| Cinema Naga: Part 1 - The Good Days |
[25 Nov 2009|09:40pm] |
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Everybody Loves a Clown (Gary Lewis and the Playboys) |
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It just dawned on me the realization that watching films was once a community activity. Back in the early 90's, when Andrew E, Michael V, and Francis M (notice the peculiarity of their names) were budding rappers, when That's Entertainment was cool, and when Ang TV still casted the yet conservative Rica Paralejo, the people of Naga would flock the local cinemas. It was a major activity next to going to Church.
When I say "flock the place" I mean getting the theater packed with people from all walks of life. In the theater, though the Balcony and Orchestra were means of subtle class segregation, every part of the social strata was there, sharing the same laughter, same scream, same tears, same awe. The experience was felt as an organic reaction to the silver screen. Whatever movie was being shown everyone seemed to react in unison, even breathing was a simultaneous, rhythmic activity.
The theater owners had a grand ball back then: almost every movie screened, albeit a little late in terms of its actual release, was a guaranteed hit among the locals. I remember watching Coming to America with my Family. Eddie Murphy was still funny, James Earl Jones was still alive, and Arsenio Hall was still famous (as the typical "other black dude"). Near the end of the film I felt my bladder calling me, so I had to convince my father to accompany me to go outside. After a little convincing (and a grunt or two) we stood up and "attempted" to leave theater. I had to swim through the crowd just to reach the door. I couldn't help but step on a foot or two, I had to say "excuse me" a lot of times especially to the people who were sitting along the sticky aisles and stairs.
As soon as we got outside the air suddenly became pleasant. I ran to the comfort room to comply with nature's watery call. After a few minutes went back to the bar, dad was waiting for me there, fuming. I tried to locate the origin of his chagrin (as I could see smoke emanting from his head) and saw more people coming inside (or at least were trying to) the theater. I looked at him again and saw a "don't-even-fucking-think-about-it" look. So we just sat on a long bench and waited for the movie to end. We didn't return inside for a repeat viewing. I saw the ending of "Coming to America" on television a few years later. I think it was on Cinemax.
Another memorable experience was watching James Cameron's Titanic with friends. If memory serves me right, almost all the cinemas screened it (Jpoon Cinema, which was renamed "Happy Cinema" in the late nineties, still showed the usual smut). We waited in what seemed to be an endless line, as soon as we got inside we immediately took the only remaining seats in front, just a wee bit close to the silver screen. Being just young and innocent little freaks that we were, we heckled our way throughout the whole film. I remember our faces the first time we saw Kate Winslet removing her robe (the scene were Jack gets to draw a naked Rose... hmmm, "naked Rose" kinda sounds poetic. Heh.). Eyes widened, almost in shock, testosterone on a high, we then found ourselves giggling over it. It left quite a mark in our adolescent little brains, we talked about that scene for weeks till a new movie showed up to divert us to another topic.
The last major movie that I watched with friends was Jose Rizal (the version with Cesar Montano... coz there has been like 50 other Rizal films). Our school literally rented two theaters just so all the high school kids from AdNU could watch. When I say "all" I mean the entire high school student body: every year level; every section. We all lined up like angels and found our seats in an orderly manner. But as soon as the lights went dim everyone turned out to be a potential fartstarter. The juvenile tension inside was so high a single heckle could cite a riot of laughter. We went out of the cinema with a huge residue grin on our faces, probably because all we could remember were the senseless sidecomments and not the movie itself.
I remember those days, and I love remembering them.
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| The Honesty of Being: Understanding Phenomenology in an Old Café |
[18 Nov 2009|08:45pm] |
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Across the Universe (The Beatles) |
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I’m not trying to sound uber-philosophical here in fact I’m just trying to understand things the way I see them. If Martin Heidegger ever reads this I’m sure he won’t hesitate to bash me with sound criticisms. In fact you all have the right to trash this silly piece of reflection.
It all started last Friday when I was depressed due to a shitload of unexplainable reasons, half of which was emotional while the other half was merely existential. I wandered around the city looking for something to distract me, I went to the local mall but it didn’t help. My mind was still heavy with complicated matters when I decided to just go to my favorite café to eat something which hopefully could ease my mind. I went to New China.
New China is in fact a very old café located in Naga City’s busy town center, a wee bit near the wet market. Back when I was still a grade school student, my cousin introduced me to the place after watching “The Island of Dr. Moreau” from a nearby cinema. There we discussed all things geeky and fantastic and I guess the place just stuck with me ever since. Whenever I visit the city during semestral breaks and summer vacations I would usually go there to hang out, eat lomi, drink a bottle of beer or two, and enjoy a moment of solitude (this is the only restaurant in Naga City where nobody cares if you’re eating alone).
And so on a Friday night I went there to cure my unbearable malady. I ordered the usual lomi and a bottle of beer to wash down the noodles, veggies, and perhaps all the other troubles wandering about my mind. As I waited I couldn’t help but notice the little details of the old café: the glasses were so old that they were already yellow, the red paint on the wooden chairs were chipped and faded, the mirror on the wall had spots of rust and fungus, and the ceiling fans were not only spinning but also wobbling. The typography of the signage system also added charm, all of them were handwritten, none were designed with a computer. It was as if the place was somehow stuck in time, and somehow it didn’t even care to pretend what it was and what it could possibly been. There it occurred to me: The Café presented itself to me in all its truth. It had succeeded with its “Honesty of Being.”
This may sound a little confusing but this is how I [try] simplify my epiphany: there is no bullshit staining the identity and existence of the old café. The place is just “is” and enjoys its existence as a café. Nothing more, nothing less. Imagine yourself standing in front of a rock. The rock reveals itself to you in all its nature. Before you could even put any concept on it you already have a feeling of its presence and perhaps a clue of its nature. The rock tells you that it is standing right in front of you, 5.75 feet away, 130.43 kg. in weight, grey in color, and all natural—constructed from minerals coming from an intricate formation of molecules originating from a more complex structure and interaction of atoms. The object presents itself to you in all its honesty.
In a world muddled with concepts, theories, imposed beliefs, and representations of things we don’t even need or dare to comprehend, when have we actually experienced the basic truth and its exact presentation? In a reality (if we could even call our world an exact reality) engulfed in advertising, tradition, culture, and yes, religion, how often do we encounter the sense of the true nature of things? Mankind suffers in his association with interweaving ideas and personality, and man imposes his complexity with his immediate environment. Though we acknowledge the fact that we exist (which is even a hard task to do), how much do we try to be honest with our being? How much do we reveal to the other [and ourselves] our true nature as mere individuals, with a relation to time and place, with a limit imposed by our bodies?
As I tried to make sense of the various abstractions swimming in my thoughts the sudden smell of garlic from the lomi I ordered had put me back to my immediate reality. I was thinking too much that I totally didn’t notice the waitress placing my order on my table.
“Ito lang ba?” the waitress inquired.
“Hindi, isang Pale Pilsen pa,” I answered with a grumbling stomach.
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| Education: No Big Deal |
[11 Nov 2009|09:55pm] |
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Tired of Being Alone (Al Green) |
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As a starter for this entry I would like to share a very simple observation: You know you’re (in)famous in Bicol when your name is broadcasted all over the airwaves. The AM domain is a much more popular, more powerful media force in this region (perhaps this is also true to other regions), unlike in the Metro wherein the four-cornered telly is king. Anyway, the name of a certain local DepEd Head is all over the local radio lately. For days she has been the subject of numerous character bashings and a possible defamation campaign coming from concerned parents and teachers. The cause: she said something quite disturbing. Wait, let me rephrase that: she said something stupid. The recent National Achievement Test (NAT) results show that Naga City is ranked as being one of the lowest in the country (within the range of 100+), while a neighboring city, Iriga, is ranked at the top spot (somewhere within the range of 20 methinks). When asked for her response about the disappointing result of Naga City, she merely said “No big deal.” Okay, fine. Our students have a very poor performance in terms of learning and output. No big deal. Sheez, it’s just education anyway. What’s so important about learning how to read and write? What’s so important about learning how to calculate quantities? What’s so important about learning moral values? What’s so important about learning local history and the economy? What’s so important about learning geography, political issues, and leadership theories? Is she implying that we don’t take them seriously? Right now, a lot of kids would walk over a hundred miles (not a hyperbole) just to get to their classrooms and learn things necessary for future survival and character formation. Is she saying that their daily sacrifice is “no big deal?” If that’s the case, our city is doomed. God help us all.
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| Working with Students |
[11 Nov 2009|12:05am] |
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Goobledigook by Sigur Ros |
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Being in an academic institution, I find it quite fascinating (and challenging) to work with students. I’m still not used to being called “Sir Jay” and whenever one addresses me that peculiar title I tend to cringe for a second or two. I still prefer being called by my first name. "Kuya" will also suffice since I’ve recently come to accept the natural progression of my generation. Everyday we get to work with students, most of which are scholars. In our office, we have two student assistants who help us with our daily tasks. Most of the time they serve as our messengers, but there are also moments when we need their extra hands for logistic purposes also known as legworks. In my case, I also have two students who work for me in maintaining the web in terms of content. Both of them are scholars and budding journalists. As a newbie manager of students, I have had a hard time working around their busy schedules. To make things worse, I was also handling the AJCU EAO matters for the first time (I have a previous blog post about it), much to my chagrin. So it totally made my first semester a complete disaster for all of us. There were times when I really felt so frustrated. Having worked in companies which consistently demanded rushed submissions, I felt that there was a chaotic fluctuation in terms of pace and progress. However, I soon realized that I was working with non-professionals. I kinda scolded myself upon meditating about it. My “good” side told me that they’re just kids, but my “evil” side also told me that they were bordering to adulthood, so I had to learn when to become strict. Such situation put me under pressure. I felt that somehow I was responsible for whatever development they’re in (at least in relation to their duties to me). So I formulated something: a program of sorts for the second semester in which they could continue to write for me as well develop further their skills in terms of observation and writing. Re-establishment of the commitment was also important, so I had to reiterate to them our primal duties as keepers of the information. Back then I used to rant about it, but upon realizing the situation I kinda felt embarrassed with myself for setting the bar a little too high, for expecting too much. As my spiritual director once advised me: let it roll out slowly and we’ll see what will happen. To my two student writers, if one day you find yourselves getting a freebie or two from me it only means one thing: this is me apologizing to you.
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| The Living and the Dead: Musings (3 Short Essays on 1 November 2009) |
[03 Nov 2009|09:44pm] |
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Must Be Dreaming by Frou Frou |
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The Dead: Maximized
I find our memorial parks (euphemism for graveyards) quite fascinating. In contrast to the formal and often minimal look of modern cemeteries in countries outside the Philippines, ours are characterized by maximalist aesthetics.
There are two kinds of cemeteries in the Philippines. The first kind is a congested maze of stone, cement, and marble. The dead are stacked, cramped, and squeezed together to maximize space. Sometimes they look like tall apartments; sometimes they seem like granite drawers. The walls and tiles are painted white, applied with hasty letterings of poorly written black letters. Shabby may they seem, even the slightest appearance of moss and cracks add charm to a humble resting place.
On the other hand, the second kind is a lavish garden of the dead, studded with stylish coffins and shiny mausoleums. For even the lifeless are entitled to show off at least once a year. Looking from the outside of a certain mausoleum, I wonder how the dead benefit from the insanely opulent architecture. Seems like a limb or two have been sacrificed for the sake of the deceased. But is this really necessary?
Sto. Niño: An Observation of Class Divisions Among the Dearly Departed
The Santo Niño Memorial Park is located near the Basilica Minore. Look closer and you’ll realize that there’s an unintentional class division even among the dead. The park is divided into three parts, each having its own social distinction.
For the left-siders, their dead are buried six feet underground, covered in fertile soil and thick carabao grass. Unlike the thick, standing, minimalist tombstones of the west, only a single slab of marble is placed on the ground. This part of the cemetery depicts a fascinating sight: a group of square alabaster islands scattered around the sea of brown and green—with a “coffin bed” or two floating around.
For the middle-siders, their dead are placed inside marble tombs. Most of them have low (and quite unnecessary) stone fences surrounding the perimeter. Some have tin frames of simple metallic exoskeletons installed where the tenants can place their tarpaulin matts for shelter during the season of the dead, while some (who obviously have bigger budgets) have simple stone roofs constructed. For those who want to be creative with their tombs, the floors are designed with coated marble tiles or cobblestones. For those who push their limits of creativity further, landscaping is applied, with flowers, statues, and other random figures to complement a certain theme or look.
For the right-siders, well, things become ridiculously interesting. Aside from the lavish and oftentimes daunting aesthetics, upholstery and household equipments are placed inside the mausoleums. Television sets, sound devices, and even air-conditioning systems are installed. The contemporary trend demands a second floor complete with spiral staircases and ledges. Security systems such as grills and laser alarms are constructed—not to protect the dead, rather the gadgets inside.
November Night
Back in the day, the mellow candles complete the atmosphere of prayerful solemnity provided by the ghostly light from the stars and the pale moonbeam. The air is filled with chants, novenas, mantras, and other traditional recitations intended for the dearly departed.
These days the memorial parks serve the living. The golden candlelight is swamped by fluorescent forces, while prayers are menaced by modern music and videoke voices. Cars are parked everywhere, congesting walkways, stopping a person or two for a few minutes.
Kiosks and stalls are installed, satisfying those who have gastronomical needs. From cheap cigarettes, to candies, to chips, to burgers, to pizzas, to designer coffee, to alcoholic beverages, to whatever it is that people want. Business is booming to serve the living and the dead.
Sometimes I wonder, do the dead also pray for the living?
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| Gah! Books! |
[26 Oct 2009|02:51pm] |
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So I’ve been buying books from stores and bargain bins and realized that I have this tall stack in my room. Here’s a little challenge that I’m going to take: before the end of the year, I should at least read half from the list.
The Reading List (in no particular order):
Ulysses by James Joyce
The Inner Circle by T.C. Boyle
The Tortilla Curtain by T.C. Boyle
The Descent of Man by T.C. Boyle
The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand
Look at It This Way by Justin Cartwright
If You Like School You’ll Like Work by Irvine Welsh
Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
It’s Superman by Tom De Haven
Baltasar and Blimunda by Jose Saramago
Blindness by Jose Saramago
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
Aint It Cool? by Harry Knowles
Naga: The Birth and Rebirth of a City by Dante Gerona
Vignettes of Bicol History by Fr. Francisco Mallari, S.J.
Yayee 4: Embraced by God by Fr. Arsenio Jesena, S.J.
African Laughter by Doris Lessing
An American Childhood by Annie Dillard
Hip: the History by John Leland
Mortification (edited by Robin Robertson)
The Writer on Her Work (edited by Janet Sternberg)
Writers on Artists (edited by Daniel Harpern)
Ron L. Hubbard’s Writers of the Future (volumes 19, 20, 22, and 23)
Distance to Andromeda by Gregorio Brillantes
Planet Waves by Eric Gamalinda
A Tropical Winter’s Tale and Other Stories by Charlson Ong
The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick Maker by Gilda Cordero Fernando
*phew!*
So help me God…
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| Rolling with the EAO Jesuits |
[16 Oct 2009|09:30pm] |
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It was in late February when my boss assigned me to manage the AJCU EAO account during a staff duty-shuffle. My three officemates were on-leave due to academic reasons, forcing some necessary reallocation of duties among those who were left. I was quite surprised with my boss’s decision of assigning me to this duty as I believed that I couldn’t handle the job. I signed up as a writer, not as an Executive Secretary.
AJCU EAO means Association of Jesuit Colleges and Universities in East Asia and Oceania. It’s a council composed of Presidents and Representatives from Jesuit Universities and Institutional Partners in the East Asia and Oceania Region. It’s like the ASEAN, only that it’s composed of Jesuits and their Lay Partners. My boss happens to be the organization’s Chairman.
Handling the AJCU EAO is my most difficult job so far. Aside from getting myself updated with the latest issues and collaborations, I also happen to be the aleph (a.k.a. Point Person) whenever there’s a major event.
There are two main challenges in this job. First, you have to find a way go around the language barrier. I remember my first few long distance calls being disastrous. Most of the time I couldn’t understand what the others were saying…and vice-versa.
There was an instance when the person at the other end of the line suddenly hung-up—I guess he or she panicked when I spoke english a little too fast. There was also a time when I couldn’t find the person I’m looking for because I couldn’t pronounce his name correctly, I then had a crash course in Korean accent just to get his name right. There was one time when my call was repeatedly redirected to different phones as most of the staff in the office couldn’t speak English.
Here’s a memorable conversation with a machine:
Machine: *Speaks first in Chinese*… for English, please press 2.
Me: *presses 2*
Machine: Thank you, Goodbye! *click*
Here’s another:
Me: Good Morning! This is Jay Salvosa of the AJCU EAO calling from the Philippines, I’ve sent you a message a few days ago and I’m looking for some updates.
Secretary: Uh…
*Dead air*
Me: Yes?
Secretary: I… can read English… but not good speaking or listening it... (he was stuttering a bit while he was saying this).
Me: Okay. Okay. Email! Email! Read Email! Then reply! Okay?
Secretary: Okay. Goodbye!
Second, it is important to know that the schools have priorities other than the AJCU EAO. Most schools, when asked for some materials, respond late because they’re busy with whatever priority they have...much to my chagrin. Constantly phoning them (a.k.a “nagging”) is the key. Though I have to pace this carefully as some actually get irritated. When the speaker at the other end of the line changes his or her tone, you have to be careful on what you say next, and how you’re supposed to say it. This usually happens when I’m quite assertive in some conversations (when I’m in Panic Mode because the deadline is near, or when they’re responses are so delayed). Panic Mode is automatically initiated when my Boss’s Boss, who’s a Jesuit from a higher office, demands urgent submission of materials from our association.
What’s good about working with the association is that I get to know the “other” more, to realize that I’m having a dialogue with people from another place and another time (this is technically true as our timezones vary). It’s never easy to coordinate with people with varying languages, governments, and cultures. Except for the Philippines and Australia, most of the countries covered by the AJCU EAO have Catholics as minorities (usually around 5% of the entire populaiton). Some countries even have ridiculously tough restrictions concerning religious practices. Most of the institutions can only teach [academics]—not preach.
Whenever I mess up at work, whenever a task gets too complicated, I always ask myself: “Why me?” (with an imaginary tear rolling down my right cheek). Coordinating with the Jeusits, secretaries, and representatives from different countries in the EAO region is like conversing with the people of Babel. Sometimes I just want to give up, to quit, to pass the job to another person. But whenever I think about it another question pops up: “If it’s not you, then who will take your place?” I would always reflect upon this question. Having known Jesuit culture for almost half of my life reaffirms me that I am the right person for the job, albeit clunky most of the time. I guess what really matters is that I get to speak to the people, to show them that another person from another country is always there to have a meaningful and unique dialogue: not in terms of mere business and collaboration, but of understanding one’s place in a global sense, the bigger picture.
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Last August during the Annual Meeting in Australia, for the first time, I get to see the people behind the phone calls and emails. Honestly, meeting them in person felt deeply wonderful, as if meeting a long lost friend. While I shook their hands and introduced myself, I would jokingly say:
”Hi! I’m Jay. I was the one who kept on nagging you at the other end of the line.”
To which they respond with a sweet, heartfelt chuckle and a spoonful of apologies.
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| Writer's Block: Airplane reading |
[07 Oct 2009|09:47pm] |
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Headlock (Imogen Heap) |
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It takes about eight hours of road travel from Naga to Manila. I usually take the night bus just to sleep through the rest of the trip. However, during day trips, especially when I'm with my family, I kill time by reading Readers' Digest. I tried reading novels but the rocky road on some areas makes it hard for me to read through the tiny letters.
Why Readers' Digest? Because the font is larger and the typeface is highly legible, plus it has pictures (ha!). Also, my attention span is quite weak so the eclectic topics of RD kinda gets my groove. I remember finishing a whole RD issue not in chronological order (first page to last page) but by jumping from one random topic to another (I actually read the comedy sections first). The occasional naps refresh my eyes for a while (reading while the car is shaking is actually not advisable), then after waking up I immediately go back to my reading... or counting trees.
For plane trips, though the ride is smoother, I don't bring any reading materials as I'm actually distracted by 1.) the screen in front, 2.) the in-flight radio, 3.) food, and 4.) the stewardess. If the in-flight movie is not interesting, I force myself to sleep.
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| Technological Devolution |
[05 Oct 2009|11:12am] |
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Hesus ng Aking Buhay (Himig Heswita) |
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Being new in this office, I have inherited not one, but TWO antediluvian computers, one PC and one Mac, each having their own history, both dying naturally. In fact, as I look at my history in terms of office technology, everything seems backwards.
If you read one of my previous entries (Livejournal, Circa 06), my very first office iMac (ORP) did its best in fucking itself up, forcing me to use my ever trusty laptop for design and documentation projects. I remember wanting to smash the iMac into bits everytime it froze or went to "umbrella mode" for like an eternity. I didn't have much problem with my second iMac (Hinge Inquirer) as it was properly maintained by its previous owner. I think the net connection was the issue most of the time but my unit was reliable in terms of layout and illustration assignments. As for FA (Final Art) renderring, we usually use another unit for it as it causes extreeeeeeeeeme lag.
I believe that the best unit that I used (and abused) was in O80 Publications. I was assigned first with a PowerMac which consistently crashed because of the negligence of its previous owner. I had to remove gigatons of useless typefaces just to free a good amount of memory and to "liberate" InDesign from the atrocious loading time. I remember cursing loudly whenever the page that I was designing suddenly disappeared, forcing me to start over again...and again..and again. But overtime we kinda " fell in love" with each other. I did the proper maintenance, systems check, and monthly back-up to save memory. My unit didn't crash anymore and all the files were in perfectly good condition.
However, during my last few months in the office, I was reassigned to a newer, slicker iMac which made me drool all over the table. I constantly cleaned its monitor and prevented anyone from touching the screen (argh! thumbmarks!). It was also perfectly calibrated by LEX Media and I dared not touch the adjustment screen to prevent it from misrepresenting any color details. Personally, that was the best unit ever.
Things went downhill from there. As soon as I jumped ship (went to another job), I started using a PC again, much to my chagrin.
My fourth unit, which was fortunately a powerful PC (Chelsey McCaw Publishing), had two monitors. I found the second screen useless as I was much used to utilizing only one monitor. My officemate stated that its previous user treated the second monitor as a dumping ground for excess pictures and stuff. I wasn't also comfortable with my PC as I couldn't play any music or watch DVDs with it. Ever since my first job I was happy to use my unit as a tool for anything "extra-curricular." I remember going overtime just watching videos or doodling around with the illustrator. Also, using the office PC for design for the first time made me extremely paranoid. This time, my works are virus-prone.
When I transferred to a smaller design firm as a copywriter. I was assigned to a less powerful PC unit (Bluethumb Graphics). I thought it was just OK since I would only be using MS Word but due to certain improvisations with work (and with my boss taking advantage of certain contractual clauses) forced me to use design software which didn't work well with it. Also, my internet connection totally sucked.
Now, things are getting worse. I was given this third-hand PC having only around 800Mhz and a RAM of 512mb. However, just a few days ago, this unit crashed and was considered beyond salvation. I was forced to transfer all my important documents to a Macintosh... an old one having only around 500Mhz and with a ram of 250mb. Why don't you just give me a Pentium II unit? Even loading the MS Word takes a lot of time (around 3 minutes tops). Sometimes I think that at some point last year the god of Apple cursed me, or cast me out from Techno-Eden.
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On a lighter note, my Acer laptop, which is already three years old, is still reliable. Though it's slower and older now, I can still connect it to the internet. I can still use the Adobe basic software with it but only on a limited scale since its RAM and Memory are now getting senile every month (who the hell has been putting useless files in it?). I get to clean up my laptop once in a while, hardware and software, though I'm not really sure how long will this old lady last. I'm saving up for a new one, maybe a PC will suffice.
But dammit, I also want a DSLR!
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| Waiting and Water |
[02 Oct 2009|07:09pm] |
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Just before lunch our Officer-in-Charge decided to suspend all activities from 12 noon today till Sunday, meaning there’ll be no classes and office work. I sighed with slight relief but as I looked outside the flood had already welcomed itself inside the campus, slowy turning the Ateneo de Naga University into a shabby replica of Venice.
I found it fascinating to see the pathways flooded and unpassable: clear water blanketing grass and concrete. Most of the students who travelled across buidlings raised their pants and tiptoed hurriedly to their destinations. As I surveyed the main entrance/exit, students and faculty had already crowded the concrete shore, hoping for Mr. Tricycleman to rescue them from the murky waters. I decided to take the Sta. Cruz gate which still had some patches of land to step on…though the rain still kept on pouring. Wearing my sister’s USI jacket and taking out my cheap new umbrella, I braved the rain and left school.
The river outside is slowly rising, just a few hours ago it swallowed a shanty house which was situated a little too close (and too low) to the riverbank. I find looking at the rampaging river hypnotic—brown water flowing effortlessly to some unknown place. The typhoon is already ravaging Catanduanes, soon it’ll pass by the jagged edges of Camarinues Sur, letting its tail whip the sh*t out of us.
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| Rainy Days and Fridays |
[02 Oct 2009|08:31am] |
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I'm just here in our office, alone, typing away as the air conditioning system hums its daily tune of monotony and boredom. Click-clack-click-clack sounds like the raindrops on crack. Signal numero uno the radio announcer said, Elementary and High School Classes are suspended, save for a few "diligent" schools whose secondary students are still sitting down on their respective desks, probably groaning or whining.
I checked outside: a black, muddy lake miraculously appeared before our gates. I'll probably use the Santa Cruz exit later, hopefully there's still some land left for me to tiptoe on.
I wasn't supposed to go to work today, too rainy, too cold, too lazy. Though duty tells me to report and make some final calls to people outside the Philippines. And I find it fascinating to know that while the weather here is officially screwed, others are enjoying sun. I'm happy for them.
For now, all I want is whiskey.
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| Peeping Peping |
[01 Oct 2009|10:15am] |
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restless |
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No matter how well-versed you are in Meteorology and Climate Change, when it comes to Typhoons and other calamities, everything is tad unpredictable.
Bicol has always been the first region to absorb the whiplash from any incoming storm from the Pacific. Though we can say we are used to it, the repetitive punishment inflicted in our region turned us into hard-headed citizens or in local terms "tigas ulo." We are persistent to the point that we become ridiculously defensive (though I also theorize, as a side note, that because of the constant battery of "climattacks" we've become optimistic...or sarcastic).
So now, as of 1 October 2009, the local government has declared Signal #1 in our area. The last time I checked www.maybagyo.com, Peping invited a nearby typhoon to merge with him, becoming an awesomely powerful force of nature. As I look outside the window, the sky is gloomy, and gentle wind is slowly turning into breeze. Peping is heading North West. Its tail is already taunting our local borders, like a thinking ticking bomb, still figuring its existence if it should blow up or not.
In this scenario, we do what we always do best: Pack up, strengthen the barricades, and wait. As soon as the first drop of rain hits the ground, we'll be ready...I hope.
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| Old Social Sites: Still Worth It |
[30 Sep 2009|10:52am] |
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mood |
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bored |
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The world is rapidly evolving in terms of Social Sites. Five years ago everyone was into Friendster. Now it's Facebook. And if you're still stuck with the former, people might say "Where have you been?" or worse, "Ang jologs mo."
So everyone has to keep up with the pace. Sure, I've finally surrendered my Friendster account. I'll wait for it to get lost somewhere in cyberspace. I created my own Facebook account just a few months ago and realigned myself with all the folks who migrated to the new social network. I also made a Tumblr account but I find it hard to post something there, probably because set up is still needed in order to create a comments link, which I find a wee bit cumbersome. (Though I still keep it to get myself updated with some of my blogger friends).
Though as much as I want to go with the digital flow, I find it hard to unsubscribe to these four websites: Livejournal. DeviantArt. Multiply. Plurk.
Why Livejournal (rectorjay.livejournal.com)
I still find this social blog site easy to use. I remember logging in for the first time and immediately pouring out a lot of emo thoughts on it (We all went through a phase of angst when we were younger, didn't we?). I chose this site over Blogspot because of it's social networking feature: you don't need to open another tab or window just to check out the blog of a friend (though I think blogspot has this feature now). Once I did try to set up a Blogspot account but I kinda find it a tedious to customize (in terms of page layout and entry) because it's too code-y. I want to write entries, not codes.
There are times when I look at older entries just for the sake of nostalgia. I cringe every time I read an entry of rant, self-pity, lamentations, depression, and whatnot. It's like reading a dusty yearbook and looking at my past self (or selves) through an outsider's perspective. Now I feel like a stranger to myself.
I also miss the days when a lot of my friends were still into Livejournal. Now it's becoming a ghost town. I wonder where did everyone go? Oh yeah, tumblr or twitter or plurk. Everyone is into microblogging these days. When I opened my plurk account I kinda neglected my Livejournal probably because of the quick tempo of my job, which forced me write shorter entries... or I was just plain lazy.
Why DeviantArt (rectorjay.deviantart.com)
Sure, there's Tumblr, Flickr, and even Facebook where you get to post your works, but I still find DevArt as a place for my portfolio. I don't get to post new artworks and design stuff any more but at least I still get to follow a couple of projects or two from friends and artists. I theorize that my DevArt friends have finally moved on when they learned how to the dabble in the arts of HTML coding which I think is very much useful if you want to customize your own site especially when you're an artist or a designer.
Why Multiply (rectorjay.multiply.com)
I have to confess that I'm a late bloomer when it comes to Multiply. This site is still convenient when it comes to storing pictures, posting blogs, or submitting a review. The video, music, and notes portions seem to be a bit useless today since there are better sites for these.
I remember Multiply achieving its golden age just last year when everyone was into selling their stuff (mostly shirts) via this site. I think when eBay landed here every small-time cyber-businesses transferred there...but I'm not really sure. I don't trust cyber-transactions much as I'm afraid that exposing or sharing my bank account number with anyone over the internet might become starting point for getting financially hacked. That's my paranoia.
Why Plurk (www.plurk.com/rectorjay)
Though I'm trying to revitalize my LJ, I'm still into plurk. Why? Simple: the accumulated karma points is telling me not to give this site up. That's how shallow I am sometimes. Does Twitter have karma points? Nuuuuuu. [though IMO Twitter is more hip and modern...I'm not just into it]
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| Convergence |
[29 Sep 2009|11:33am] |
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mood |
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cold |
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music |
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1979 (The Smashing Pumpkins) |
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I find myself writing again, though I think I lost some of my skills in Graphic Design due to lack of time and plain laziness in accepting projects. I find myself looking back again and saw how chaotically eclectic I was which is just happens to be so problematic. Now I have to settle with a hundred and one personalities like that Alpha dude in Joss Whedon's latest series, Dollhouse (which is actually a must-see for Whedon fans).
A person, I theorize, is a compilation of various characteristics picked up from the genes of ancestors, other traits are soon developed as a response to exposure on present scenarios. I for one received my parents' swift anger trait, yet along the way I've learned the ways of tolerance during my college days. Patience, unfortunately, is a trait yet to be learned. I also picked up my father's pack-rat trait, though in my case I've mixed it with my being sentimental, which is really just a variation of, what do they call it these days? Oh, emo.
On the aspect of being "spiritually conscious," I got it from my mother whose roots have always been gifted with devotion, but I have, fortunately, went through the phase of agnosticism and, for a while, atheism. It opened my eyes further in terms of observing the landscape of faith and spirituality. In fact, I respect the atheists for their standpoint in life, and my being an existentialist, I think we have a common ground.
I think man is just a smorgasbord of previous and future personalities. Individuals stand somewhere at the center where the past and future converge. A certain being, whose learnings from the past enables him to respond to the incoming future, shapes the present with his actions... but that's just my speculation.
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| Don't... Just Don't |
[29 Sep 2009|06:43am] |
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mood |
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 irritated |
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We all know that for every tragedy there's this douchebag or asshole waiting to post something ridiculously vile. They're like ticking time bombs: one false tweet or status message will cause thousands of flamers, trolls, and haters to pounce the living shit out of the unlucky bastard. Some people just love to post his or her own "kick me" sign, digital style.
I'm not even going to bother posting the name in my entry as it may evoke further hate. Just ask anyone and surely they know who he or she is, or send me a private message and I'll send the name (but that's really not important, srsly). So let's just get to the point shall we? First, I do hope that everybody should be sensitive to any situation especially if it's tragic. Yes, you may be lucky or unaffected due your location but please, if you don't want to mourn or help, just try to be quiet and move along.
Second, we respect your opinion, but you if can't make a credible or rational defense then by all means just shut the fuck up. Also, try to communicate clearly on what you mean. The world is just fucked up these days due to miscommunication or the lack of it.
Third, do not fan the flames. He or she might be some delusional asshole but it doesn't necessarily mean that you have to match his or her level. If you want to make a comment try to be diplomatic. If he or she doesn't want to listen then we can't really do anything about it, can we?
We don't need pitchforks and torches. What we need right now are shovels, wheelbarrows, clean water, and some optimism. Don't waste your time bashing people online, coordinate with the rescue instead, that's very much a priority these days.
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| Rain, Rain Go Away |
[27 Sep 2009|02:21pm] |
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mood |
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cold |
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music |
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the sound of breeze |
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One man's rainshower is another man's natural disaster. Ondoy just breezed through Bicol with normal downpour but it struck the Metro with flash floods and unforeseen tragedies. As I look at the television screen and observe the unfortunate exodus of people, I merely wondered about the could-have-beens if I was still residing in Makati.
It was creepy listening to the pleas of the people who were stuck on the roof which became tin islands. Everything sounded so...apocalyptic. I also found it fascinating to read the messages of the people on facebook, twitter and plurk. Some of the messages even found their way to the TV screen. I guess every form of communication technology was used to ask for help, but unfortunately not everyone could be saved. Unfortunately.
I find natural disasters as nature's way of cleaning up a particular. The story of Noah presented a scenario of God pressing the reset button. A disaster, though tragic and traumatic, will always be an avenue for change, and whenever there is change, there's opportunity.
Of course, there will be a percentage from the populace who would cry out: Why! or Tangina ba't nangyayari ito sa amin?. This usual event will always be exploited by post-disaster vultures such as the politicians who would just love to make a campaign out of this tragedy. I say they should just quit it, shut up, and do their best in helping their people. Besides, what people need now is respect, not PR.
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| ...and the Sheep, Slaughtered |
[26 Sep 2009|07:47pm] |
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mood |
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contemplative |
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Death’s tempo is progressing at an unusual rate. Blink. The girl you hardly knew yet cared about never survived a gunshot tragedy. Blink. A guy you met back in college got shot, along with his girlfriend from Europe. Blink. The guidance counselor who introduced you to high school life was robbed and murdered in his apartment. Blink. A family, whose mother served you iced tea with a smile, from a place you used to hangout in Makati recently joined the ranks of the deceased, murdered in cold blood.
Blink and you’ll miss.
Who knows? While you’re reading this, a possible aquaintance might be another victim of some robbery, waiting to go wrong at any moment. It’s murder waiting to happen. The suspect, probably high as a fucking kite, is loading his [or her] gun with cheap bullets. He [or she] might be sitting at a nearby sari-sari store in some obfuscated corner, waiting, calculating, probably imagining scenarios with several violent variables.
Blink and they’ll shoot.
The world, it’s people, the system—is a devolving—into what? What have we become?
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| Prophecies and Lost Things |
[06 Jul 2009|02:00pm] |
I've just realized a few hours ago while talking with Ms. Missy that I've just fufilled some sort of promise/prophecy. I remember writing something about it here in my LJ just a few years ago...I've become Xander! Ahaha! Hindi nga lang Fine Arts, but close enough.
Had a little chitchat with the Xander Khan just a few minutes ago. I was also introduced to the new FA Director Dr. Benilda Santos. I think I've just shook hands with a goddess of writing. Passed by Filipino department to see if Mitch was around but he had class, met up Sir Jerry Respeto instead and had a conversation about the state of literature in Bicol, which as of the moment is in a state of suck.
Still planning if I should teach in AdNU or not. I have other "vocational" plans to think about. Hahahaha.
I also found a book called... you won't believe it... "The Book of Lost Things."
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| Been a While |
[03 May 2009|04:40pm] |
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mood |
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contemplative |
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music |
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Some chillout trance track |
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Wow, it's been a while since I last posted an entry here at Livejournal. I've succumbed to the lethargic state of laziness and have, unfortunately, been only lurking around this site. I want to write again but there are so many things happening inside my head right now, I don't know where to start. Perhaps I need to organize them bit by bit. Too bad I want to put them all at my top priority list.
Oh well, we have to start with something at least. So here goes...
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I don't work in NCR anymore. In fact, I've been living here in Naga since February, to the surprise and chagrin of some of my friends. I kinda like it here. Sure, it doesn't have the quick conveniences found in the Metro but I guess this place will do...for now. Besides, I could actually save some money here. My old account has just died, fucking ATM ate it all up. Now I've set up a new, payroll account and has withdrawn just quite a few sum from time to time.
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To be honest I miss the Metro so badly. I miss walking alone at the park in Legaspi Village, sitting on some dusty bench and thinking about existential things. I could still remember the sunny Sunday afternoons, passing by the nearby floating market, observing the diverse people.
When you're in Manila, you'll see a lot of different people. When you're in Naga, you'll only see Bikolanos.
I miss Greenbelt, I miss Powerbooks, I miss the free soup at Jollyjeeps, I miss the 7-11, I miss going to the cinema every week during summer, I miss my double deck bed, I miss the smog, I miss the smell of synthetic materials, I miss waking up at 8:30 in the morning, I miss the soundtrips at SaGuijo, I miss visiting Katipunan every other Sunday, I miss the crackling sound of my parents over my mobile phone, I miss the overexpensive beers, I miss Mr. Kebab, I miss Cubao X, I miss my Alma Mater, I miss UP, I miss the crowded MRT carts, I miss the barbeque meals near Walter Mart, I miss playing card games, I miss going to Netopia, I miss walking alone at 10 in the evening, I miss getting drunk all alone in my room...
I miss the feeling of loneliness and solitude. Yes, I do admit that it does sound emo or masochistic but I do appreciate the feeling of sadness once in a while.
On a lighter note, I have put my shit together and devised a plan for world domination (insert thunderclap and evil laughter). I do get to visit the Metro once in a while (business trips) and I do get to appreciate it very much.
Anyways, I'll keep in touch.
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| New Testament Re-imagined |
[10 Feb 2009|06:18pm] |
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mood |
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 creative |
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Just a thing I came up with when I was bored...
Imagine this: a movie about the new testament with a modern flavor or theme. Remember Highwaymen, Marie Antoinette, or A Knight's Tale where they are set in the olden times but they have this really cool modern soundtrack? Plus the dialogue's a little bit updated (or uses the modern dialect).
I was imagining this scene where Christ was recruiting his disciples, and the background music was either The Beatles's Come Together or M.I.A.'s Paper Planes. And having a dialogue like this:
Christ: So, you wanna be a fisherman... or a FISHERMAN?
James: *chewing some pati or mediterranean food* hmph *grins*
Christ: Well, wadda ya say?
James: I'm in.
*High five*
*background volume grows louder*
Here's another one... remember the baptism scene?
*Christ approaches John in the river, the latter notices him*
John: Aw man, no, no way, not me.
Christ: Oh c'mon, man. You're John, you're the man.
John: Hell no, you're THE MAN.
Christ: Nah, it's you dawg.
John: Jeezus.
Christ: What?
John: Huh?
Christ: Just do it John. Baptise me.
*when the pigeon hovers above Christ to signify his baptism, cue in P.O.D.'s School of Hard Knocks emphasizing the line "are you ready to rock?"
Here's another... the desert scene
Christ is walking in the desert. Then the devil came, portrayed by either Snoop Dogg wearing mediterranean clothes with a pimp twist (like having this loud purple color or a makeshift fedora hat).
Too bad, I can't think of a dialogue for this scene yet.
I want Steven Soderbergh or Danny Boyle to direct. With Seth Rogen as Christ.
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