Ed McMahon - June 23, 2009
Farrah Fawcett - June 25, 2009
Michael Jackson - June 25, 2009

As the fourth week of June 2009 drew to a close, I had just finished helping with an event on the Thursday and was looking forward to the weekend. But what I started out thinking of as T.G.I.F. when I left home has just become "Black Friday" as I arrived at the office, turned on the computer, and was met with news of the deaths of three icons.

Ed McMahon I hardly knew about, although I knew that Johnny Carson's Tonight Show was always introduced with "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeere's Johnny!" Something that I think other shows may have imitated to some degree, as I got confused at a younger age hearing Johnny Litton being introduced in the same way. Well, now I know, and the world bids farewell to the man whose voice and laughter introduced the original Johnny show.

I first encountered Farrah Fawcett's name in one of those jokes/ quotes readers send in on Reader's Digest, where a mother said that when one of her kids said that she (the mom) was prettier than Farrah Fawcett, for a few seconds she did feel prettier than Farrah Fawcett. So I thought, "who you?" The first thing I found out was that she had been Lee Majors' wife and later Ryan O Neal's partner. Then I lucked out on old Charlie's Angels reruns on cable while in Cebu sometime around 2001-2002, and there she was. The young and lovely Angel, Farrah Fawcett. Farewell, lovely lady. Now you're really an Angel.

I can't exactly remember the first time I heard a Michael Jackson song. There is no defining moment--- seems I have been hearing his songs through my childhood although I only found out later who sang them. Perhaps though the first time I heard a song and knew that it was Michael Jackson's was "Heal the World," way back when I was in my first year of high school, which accounts for why I always associate the man others had dubbed the King of Pop with socially relevant music.

There is no denying the impact Michael Jackson made on music since he first toured with the Jackson 5 at age 8. Millions, perhaps billions, have sung and danced to his songs (including the Cebu prisoners to Thriller). People remember "Thriller," "Smooth Criminal," "Bad," and "Billie Jean." I'd like to remember him more with "Heal the World," "Black or White," "They Don't Care About Us," and the song that always makes me cry ever since I first heard it, "Earth Song."

When I watch the videos of those songs, I always see symbols. I see Michael Jackson reaching out to the whole world. I see him bring attention to the marginalized. I see him pleading for the cause of the environment. That is the music I am truly grateful to him for. The king is dead... long live the king! The king is dead... and now he will live forever.

Thank you, Michael Jackson. Go on now, to a place brighter than tomorrow where you'll feel there's no hurt or sorrow.

============================

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee..."

John Donne
Meditation 17
Devotions upon Emergent Occasions

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Hey, it's Manila Day! Lucky people living in the City of Manila get to have a holiday; unfortunately, although I live in Manila I work in Quezon City, so-- no holiday.

It is also San Juan Day. Is it observed only in the city of San Juan, you may ask? No, for San Juan Day is the Feast of St. John the Baptist, which means it is time to get out the umbrellas and not just because Tropical Storm Feria is making for us.

All over the islands on San Juan Day, people play the same prank: they douse everyone with water in memory of the Baptist. Some use hoses, some use buckets, some use dippers, others even throw water balloons or more commonly, water in plastic bags. Everybody is fair game, and if you're on your way to class or the office in a clean uniform, too bad. At least it gives you a legitimate reason to be late, LOL.

As a student in high school and later in college, I remember having an umbrella always ready to dodge the thrown water on this day. Even if it is a hot and sunny day, jeepneys deploy the plastic tarps covering their windows to keep their passengers dry.

Perhaps I should take a taxi home today just to be safe, LOL.

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It's June 19 once again... the 148th anniversary of the birth of the Pride of the Malay Race--- Dr. Jose Rizal. While the NHI had his house painted green in his memory (the surname Rizal is after all derived from "ricial" meaning "green field") to the great consternation of many Calambenyos, Congressman Jaime Lopez sought to have him honored by moving Rizal Day from December 30 (his death anniversary) to June 19.

What can we say, really, about a man whose life and death have become the stuff of legend? Stories abound about him... his childhood prophecies about his own fate, childhood anecdotes that later on were pointed out as exemplification of his unique character, his experiences in foreign countries (and with foreign women), his writings, and ultimately his execution.

As I helped with the creation of the companion video to the Asuncion Lopez Bantug book Lolo Jose last year, we talked to many of the Rizal relatives, who recounted some of their family lore about their illustrious forebear (Bantug is herself the great-niece of Rizal, the granddaughter of one of his sisters).

Among those we interviewed was Francisco Rizal Lopez, a spry nonagenarian who was the grandson of Paciano, Jose's only brother. He recounted stories about being brought up by Paciano in a house by Laguna de Bay, and of hearing Paciano talk about his younger brother Jose.

He told us about Rizal's ill-fated love for Leonor Rivera, whose mother thought Jose "was not very stable" for her daughter. So Mrs. Rivera made her daughter marry another. Leonor agreed because she thought Jose had forgotten her. Both Leonor and Jose did not know that Leonor's mother had been intercepting all their letters to each other. On the eve of her marriage, Leonor was told by her mother about the letters. When she asked for them, she was told that she could not have them, because it was unseemly for a married woman to keep the love letters of another man not her husband. Leonor negotiated a compromise: the letters would be burned, and she would be allowed to keep the ashes. She put them in a box tied with a ribbon. Because of her mother's perfidy, Leonor vowed never to play the piano again-- one of her major accomplishments was that she played the piano beautifully. And she never played the piano again. She died in childbirth less than a year after her marriage.

When Rizal, then in Dapitan, heard of Leonor's death from one of his sisters, so Lolo Francisco said, it was as if he had been struck dumb. He went out to his little house in the garden and stayed there for a long time. He would not talk. He would not eat. He mourned for Leonor. It was only after Leonor's death that he married Josephine Bracken.

Stories like this made me realize that Rizal was a hero, yes, but he was also human. He was just better at many things than most other people, but he was also a son, a brother, a lover and a husband. Unfortunately he does not have any direct descendants, barring the urban legends floating around that Mao and Hitler were his offspring. I wonder what would have happened had his son by Josephine lived. Would he have been cherished by the nation as his father's memory is, and would he have grown up to bring more honor to that memory?

Whatever. All I know is, the nation and the world were definitely all the richer because there once was a Dr. Jose Rizal.

Happy birthday, Rizal. May the people you gave your life for, not disgrace your memory.

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A response to the pathetic explanation of why Filipinos are not nationalistic.

This country may be f*cked up. These people may have problems. But so help me, this is my country and these are my people. I can no more stop loving them than I can change the color of my skin or the genes in my DNA.


I admit that being born and growing up as a Filipino is sometimes the equivalent of growing up in a place where your family has just moved and where you do not have any other relatives. When you ask your parents about your family's past, they do not know, aside from your grandparents' names and the names of your aunts and uncles. When you try to trace your family roots in the town they said your family came from, all the records have been destroyed when the municipio burned down during the wars. Ano ngayon ang panghahawakan mo (What can you hold on to)? Well, you have your family legends. You have your lore. You have your family name. You have your family heroes. And you just keep on digging until you strike Trojan gold like Schliemann.

If you love to read up on Filipino history and culture as more than just a subject in school, you will find that there are many instances of heroism in our past. Lapu-lapu is just one example, although he is certainly always cited as the first instance where Filipinos opposed the Spanish invaders. Rajah Soliman, to whose memory a colossal monument stands in the park that bears his name, also opposed the Spaniards, as well as his relatives who had gone over to the foreign conquerors. His opposition cost him his people, his family and his own life, but by most accounts he died fighting for what he believed in.

Bonifacio acted as the head of his family when his parents died. He was the family breadwinner who brought up his brothers and sisters, and still he loved his country so much that he found the time to help spearhead a revolution. If he were a Filipino of today, yes, he would be an activist. Where is the self-interest in giving up your personal safety and that of your own family for the cause you believe in? It is easy to sit back and think that others can take part in the fight, however you have to think of number one first. Yet he did not do that.

Rizal was more than just a writer. He was an extraordinary man. If you look at all that he had accomplished in his short life, you would wonder if he ever slept at all. In a time when everyone else was subservient to the friars and the government, Rizal wrote stories, yes. Fiction, yes, but fiction depicting reality so strongly that it was banned from the country. His stories not only exposed the real situation in the islands to people abroad, but they also opened the eyes of many Filipinos to their own plight. His stories, and later his execution, catalyzed a revolution as Filipinos now strove to reclaim themselves. If a story that can touch a people's hearts and minds and change a country is not of paramount value in your eyes, then what kind of values do you have? To change a person's mindset, and to open a person's eyes, is an accomplishment that is far more difficult than it appears. Have you accomplished that?

Years after Rizal's death, the Americans were debating as to whether to grant the Philippines its independence. Most of those in the U.S. Congress opposed it, saying that they saw no indication of civilization in our people, and that therefore we still needed the guiding hands of our big white brothers. Until a congressman from Wisconsin stood up and told them about Rizal. "So, sir, I say to all those who denounce the Filipinos indiscriminately as barbarians and savages, without possibility of a civilized future, that this despised race proved itself entitled to their respect and to the respect of mankind when it furnished to the world and character of Jose Rizal." Rizal, and the congressman's eloquence, swayed the other legislators to his side and led to the passing of the Philippine Bill of 1902.

Gregorio del Pilar died at Tirad Pass at age 24, a general fighting a losing battle. Over his grave, his own enemies, deeply admiring his courage, raised a marker that called him "An officer and a gentleman." He has been likened to Leonidas of Sparta, the same king that inspired the film 300, because of the eerie similarities between the circumstances of his mission, betrayal and death and that of the legendary Spartan. How could you quote the film 300 and not even think of del Pilar?

Jose Abad Santos, far from being a clown, was a Supreme Court Chief Justice during the Commonwealth. For refusal to collaborate with the Japanese, he was executed by them in May 1942. His last words, before he was killed, was addressed to his son. "Do not cry, Pepito, show to these people that you are brave. It is an honor to die for one's country. Not everybody has that chance."

The 1986 EDSA Revolution was a phenomenon that could justifiably be called a miracle, despite claims that the spirit of EDSA is now a hackneyed concept. It was perhaps the country's most shining hour, when Filipinos from all walks of life united to drive out a dictator. Bare hands pushed back tanks, and women and children offered flowers to gun-toting soldiers. Were it a device in a novel or a film, it would be called contrived and unrealistic. Yet it happened in real life... here in the Philippines. In a country known for its internal, often bloody conflicts, a bloodless revolution stopped years of terror and repression. If you truly look at EDSA for what it is, how can you fail to be moved? How can you say that the Filipino has no heroism?

Over the course of history, many tyrants and megalomaniacs have won battles. Should they be called heroes, then? Courage and heroism, as so many sources would tell you, is not just the fool who charges into battle hoping to mow down as many enemies as he can and win from sheer strength. It is the man who stands his ground even when he knows he cannot hope to win, because he believes that he is fighting for something greater. It is the person who is willing to give his life for a noble cause, believing that his life and death would serve the greater good. It is the person who bravely does what he must, despite the jeers of his contemporaries who think him deluded and impractical for not thinking of himself first, even though he must act alone. It is the person who stands up, even though he knows he will most probably be knocked down, because he knows that the very act of standing up is an achievement in itself. If the hero wins his battle, all the better for him. But even if he doesn't win, that does not in any way diminish his heroism, which is based on the integrity of his character and not on his loss or victory.

As for culture, a person who studies his people's literature and lore will find there folk heroes to rival those of other nations. Do you know Lam-ang? Aliguyon? Indarapatra at Sulayman? Who are the ten Bornean datus? Who was Sumakwel? Bantugan? Urduja? The main reason why our own heroes and heroines are not in the limelight is that they have not been accorded much attention by our own people. Were teleseryes and movies made about them, they should be as famous as Jumong and Jang Geum. Well, if Filipinos, especially those who could read, would read their own folk literature as much as they avidly read and memorize Japanese manga or other foreign stuff, perhaps they would know more about their own culture instead of those of foreign countries.

I would be among the first to criticize negative things about this country when I see them. I know it is far from perfect. I know our people are far from perfect. But that's because we are human. We have strengths and weaknesses as all human beings have. Much as I admit and lament those weaknesses, I would not, however, presume to denigrate or suppress our strengths, for they are what enable us, as exemplified by our heroes, to rise above our frailties. Neither would I presume to denigrate those people who have sacrificed and died in the hopes of leaving me, in their future generation, with a better country, especially if I could not do the same. That would be the height of moronic ingratitude.



"Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
who never to himself hath said,
this is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
as home his footsteps he hath turned,
for wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there breathe, go mark him well.
For him no minstrel raptures swell.
High though his titles, proud his name,
boundless his wealth as wish can claim.
Despite his titles, power and pelf,
the wretch, concenter'd all in self,
dying, shall forfeit fair renown,
and doubly dying, shall go down
to the vile dust from whence he sprung,
unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung."
-from The Lay of the Last Minstrel by Sir Walter Scott

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I've always thought that if someone wanted to see what a place and its people really are like, they should go not to the showplaces, but to the places where real people go. If you thought the traffic in Makati and on EDSA are awful, try the intersection of Recto and Reina Regente/Jose Abad Santos in Divisoria. At least in Makati and EDSA, people have some semblance of manners, you just chafe at the delay.

This afternoon, I took a jeep from Sta. Mesa to Divisoria. All was well till we reached that same intersection, really a crossing of two roads. It was chaos. I don't know if the traffic light was busted or whatever, but everyone, jeepneys, private cars, taxis, motorcycles and even padyaks jockeyed for position. The jeepney I was in took a long time making a left turn (despite the huge sign saying "no left turn") because all the approaching traffic from the other side made a mad dash to cross once the road was clear. The jeeps cut in front of each other, honking like crazy. As we crossed, this other jeep was almost jostling us, and when the driver fell back a bit, a padyak immediately swept into the gap and squeezed through. The delay made everyone else hit their horns, and it took a good ten minutes before everyone sorted themselves out. The situation seemed to be aggravated by everyone's tendency to force themselves into the gap once one showed, and no one seemed to know the meaning of the word courtesy, as in, you go first.

And weren't there any police, you ask? Well, I did spot a couple of blue uniforms and one gray. Standing in the middle of the intersection, talking to one another at first, then finally going to stand on the sidewalk.

Hay, buhay.

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OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG. That's mostly what I've been saying to myself for the past couple of hours. OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG. OMG 4 REALZ. This isn't Oprah, or Wish ko Lang, or any other such TV show. But still, OMG 4 REALZ.

Kay, nuff with the lolspik. Out with teh story.

A couple of months ago, my younger sister suddenly texted me with a name and told me to look it up on Friendster because she felt weird. So I took a look. And. There was this 16 year old girl in Misamis who had the same last name as us. Weirder, she looked a bit like me. More to the point, she looked a bit like the photos of our grandmother when she was younger.

Now, our last name happens to be not at all that common, frankly speaking. To our knowledge, we're the only such clan with that name and there aren't that many of us. Anyway, over thirty years ago, before I was born, my father's oldest brother ran away from home because of a family quarrel. His siblings have been trying to trace his whereabouts since then, but with no success. When my grandmother died when I was still in college, they had it announced over Radyo Bombo and Radyo Agong all over Mindanao in the hopes that their brother would materialize for the funeral. Still no luck. When we were younger, my sister and I used to entertain the idea of going to Northern Mindanao, where our uncle had last been seen, and instigating a search for him, so that he could be reunited with his brothers and sisters.

Anyway, Sis told me it was the forehead that did it for her. (Okay, nuff forehead jokes *facepalm* we DO have distinctive high foreheads lol.) The girl's Friendster profile was set to private, so we added her and sent her a message asking about her antecedents.

She replied to my message only a couple of hours ago. She gave me her cellphone number and her grandfather's name. It was the same as my uncle's. So I sent the number to my parents, and they called and were able to talk to my uncle. The call was cut short only when their cellphone batteries ran low. Until now they're still calling one another.

So LOL. OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG 4 REALZ. The weirdest part of this whole story is that it's real. I still can't believe it.

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG. OMG 4 REALZ.

Continue if you care...

The Philippines' brightest hour. Where did it go?

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A seed planted on Plurk bore fruit. The beacons have been lit. The whole of Middle Earth has been alerted. Awake and fight, o Philippines!

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As a child, my reading material included my teacher aunts' copies of the Philippine Journal of Education (PJE), because of its stories, poems and educational articles. Among those poems was one that stood out because of its simplicity and imagery. I ended up memorizing it. Decades later, when I was looking for a blog title, I remembered it. Because it was in the masculine voice, however, I had to adapt it. "Woman of Earth" at that time was an Avon brand of perfume (my favorite, too, BTW) so that was out. That left "Child of Earth," which is the name of this blog.

"Man of Earth" was written in 1932 by then 20-year-old Amador T. Daguio, who, like us Filipino bloggers of today, was faced with the challenge of introducing his Filipino self and culture to non-Filipinos in a language they could understand, yet not lose his Filipino identity in the translation. It is still one of my favorite poems. I especially love the challenge in the last verse.

Man of Earth
Amador T. Daguio, 1932

Pliant is the bamboo;
I am man of earth;
They say that from the bamboo
We had our first birth.

Am I of the body,
Or of the green leaf?
Do I have to whisper
My every sin and grief?

If the wind passes by,
Must I stoop and try
To measure fully
My flexibility?

I might have been the bamboo,
But I will be a man.
Bend me then, O Lord,
Bend me if you can.

================================

Anak ng Lupa
Halaw ni Laya sa orihinal na tula ni Amador T. Daguio

Malubay ang kawayan;
Ako ay anak ng lupa;
Sabi nila'y sa kawayan
Tayo unang nagmula.

Ako ba'y sa katawang-tao,
O sa dahong luntian?
Kailangan ko bang ibulong
Lahat ng aking sala't kalungkutan?

Kapag dumaan ang hangin,
Kailangan bang yumuko at pilitin
Na ganap na masukat hanggang gaano
Ang pakikibagay na kaya ko?

Ako ay maaaring naging kawayan,
Ngunit ako ay magiging tao.
Kung kaya baluktutin mo ako, o Panginoon,
Baluktutin mo kung kaya mo.

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Okay, so I couldn't resist the Hiligaynon translation... and then the Cebuano. LOL.


Anak sang Lupa
Gikan sa orihinal nga binalaybay ni Amador T. Daguio

Madali padukuon ang kawayan;
Ako, anak sang lupa;
Hambal nila sa kawayan
Kita halin sang-una.

Halin bala ako sa lawas sang tao
Ukon sa berdeng dahon?
Kinahanglan ko pa bala nga ihutik
Tanan ko nga sala kag kasubo?

Kung mag-agi ang hangin,
Kinahanglan ko pa nga magduko kag piliton
Nga takson kung asta diin
Ko gid kaya nga makiangay?

Kung ako sadto kawayan
Ako karon mahimo nga tao
Ti, bali-a ako karon, Ginuo,
Bali-a ako, kung masarangan mo.


Anak sa Lupa
Gikan sa obra ni Amador T. Daguio

Sayon bako-on ang kawayan;
Ako, anak sa lupa;
Ingon nila sa kawayan
Kita unang natuga.

Gikan ba ko sa lawas,
O sa berdeng dahon?
Kinahanglan pa ba nako ihonghong
Tanan nakong sala ug kasubo?

Ug miagi ang hangin,
Kinahanglan pud ba nako miduko ug piliton
Takson ug hangtud asa
Nako kayang makiangay?

Ug ako niadto nahimong kawayan
Ako karon mahimong tao.
Paduk-a daw ko, Ginoo,
Paduk-a, ug sarangan nimo.

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This song comes more and more to mind as the days pass. We need to change, Philippines. But the change has to be within us. We have to actively pursue it. We have to own it. Otherwise, this same old mess will just loop... and loop... and loop... down unto our last generations.

BAGONG SIMULA sa BAYANIJUAN

KEVIN ROY:
parang isang gabing walang katapusan
sa bawat mesa, asin lagi ang ulam
umaalog sa alkansya pisong pinagpawisan
batang nakahubad kumot ang lansangan

YAEL:
lupaing kinalbo minsa'y nadidilig
ng dugo sa away ng kapatid sa kapatid

MARC:
sa kalagayang ito tayo ay nakagapos
parang awa sana ay dito magtapos

KEVIN:
todo na 'to!

YAEL:
liparin ang langit na bughaw
pagningningin mga tala at araw

MARC:
mamumulang muli ang silangan
sa bagong simula ng ating bayan

KITCHIE:
wag nang maulit kapalarang kay pait
wag magpabaya wag kang manahimik
wag kang manlalamang, wag kang mangigipit
wag magkanya-kanya, magkaisang bisig

YENG:
magmalasakit ito'y kabayanihan
gawin mo anumang makayanan
kalagayan ng bayan sumasama lamang
kung walang gagawin tayong mamamayan

ALL:
todo na 'to!
lliparin ang langit na bughaw
pagningningin mga tala at araw
mamumulang muli ang silangan
sa bagong simula ng ating bayan

ipakita natin sa ating mga magulang,
mga kapatid,
kaya natin 'to!
isang subok pa,
sabay-sabay na,
walang kokontra!

PLACID:
todo na 'to!
lliparin ang langit na bughaw
pagningningin mga tala at araw
mamumulang muli ang silangan
sa bagong simula ng ating bayan

TUGMA PART

ALL:
todo na 'to!
lliparin ang langit na bughaw
pagningningin mga tala at araw
mamumulang muli ang silangan
sa bagong simula ng ating bayan

======================================

A New Beginning in Juan's Country
Translation by Laya

KEVIN ROY:
Just like an endless night
On each table, only salt to serve as viand
The peso coin so long sweated for rattles around inside the piggy bank
The naked child has the street for his blanket

YAEL:
The denuded land sometimes is watered
By blood from the war between brothers

MARC:
Unto these circumstances we are bound
Mercifully, we hope that this ends here.

KEVIN:
Full speed ahead!

YAEL:
Fly into the sky so blue
make the stars and the sun shine

MARC:
The east will grow red again
for our country's new beginning

KITCHIE:
We don't want repetitions of such bitter fortune
Don't just stand by, don't you just keep quiet
Don't cheat, don't oppress
Don't be selfish, stand arm in arm

YENG:
Caring is heroism
Do whatever you can do
The nation's situation only worsens
If its citizens don't do anything.

ALL:
Full speed ahead!
Fly into the sky so blue
make the stars and the sun shine
The east will grow red again
for our country's new beginning

Let us show our parents,
my brothers and sisters,
we can do this!
Just one more try,
together now,
with no opposition!

PLACID:
Full speed ahead!
Fly into the sky so blue
make the stars and the sun shine
The east will grow red again
for our country's new beginning

ALL:
Full speed ahead!
Fly into the sky so blue
make the stars and the sun shine
The east will grow red again
for our country's new beginning

Continue if you care...

I must have to say I admire Katrina Halili, actually.

She's not my favorite actress, although she has been portraying strong, if at times sorely misguided, women in her TV roles lately. We all wanted to pull Angelika Santibanez' hair, after all, but she had chutzpah. I don't approve of celebs "going sexy" either, or the way they cater to men's excuses to indulge their libidos, or the way they just make some women think, in spite of themselves, that they have to conform to such standards of beauty or be forever considered under par.

But boy, do I ever admire her chutzpah. Her cheek. Her way of saying, yes, I slept with someone, so what? No matter what you may think of me, or say of me, I loved him. It was wrong, but it doesn't automatically make me a whore, and it was no excuse for him to treat me like this. I am a human being, goddammit, like the rest of you, and I'll bet none of you can act like they have clean hands either. So respect me like one.

I sure hope it was not another role she's playing! Other women would cry. Others before her, faced with the same situation, effaced themselves, figuratively and literally, thinking that they had nothing left. Some killed themselves, believing that they no longer had value. Some faded away into the woodwork.

Katrina Halili stood up and fought. Although I never liked her much, I have to admire her for that.

Thank you, Kat.

Continue if you care...

I, Filipino citizen, taxpayer, blogger and patriot, herein hereby invoke my rights under Article III of the 1987 Constitution of the Republic of the Philippines, which is valid and subsisting at the time of this writing, and until amended or revoked by the proper authorities. I specifically invoke my rights, under Section 4 of said Article III, to my freedom of speech, of expression, of the press, as well as the right of the people peaceably to assemble and petition the government for redress of grievances. I as well specifically invoke my right under Section 7 of the same article, to information on matters of public concern. I invoke these rights not only in my own name, but also in the name of my fellow citizens.

Last night, literally at the eleventh hour, the House of Representatives passed House Resolution 1109 calling for a constituent assembly to amend the 1987 Constitution, without the participation of the Senate. At first, they barred the media from sitting in on the deliberations, then later, when it was too late, allowed them to enter. There were no representatives from mainstream media to cover what had happened; only reports from those bloggers who had managed to attend the proceedings. Were it not for them, we would not have known the details of what transpired that night. We would have known the bare bones of what had happened, yes, the parts they wanted us to know. But what about the parts they would not have told us about?

Dear legislators, why are you so eager to hide your actions? You know why many of us do not want the amendments that you propose to the Constitution. Why should we allow foreigners to own land in this country, when many of our farmers do not even have land of their own to till? We could not compete with them financially. Should we wake up, then, to a day when we find that we are considered squatters in our own homeland?

The issue on foreign ownership of Philippine land is only one of the reasons. We do not want the Charter Change that you are pushing because we suspect that it will be used to further purposes that are inimical to the public interest and the public good. Last night, you only gave a token nod to opposition before you went ahead and did what you wanted anyway. To make matters worse, you completely disregarded the fact that you are not the only house in Congress. You want a constituent assembly in order for the Senate to vote jointly with you on the issue, which would completely negate their existence as your co-equal house.

Today, you are telling us that what you did doesn't matter because it will die anyway. You assure us that your little exercise was just the creation of a “justiciable controversy.” Controversies may be decided one way or the other, right? According to you, it has been created. There is, then, a 50 percent chance that the decision is in your favor, as good odds as any. And you tell us soothingly not to worry. We should not be concerned about it.

It is our right to be concerned. It is our future at stake. It is the future of our children. It is our voice that should be heard, not silenced. The days of the rajahs and the datus, the dons and the senyors, who made decisions, gave edicts, and expected the peasants to follow them, are long gone. You officially obtained your positions not through some accident of heredity, but through the votes of your constituents. We are not your peons and your villeins, nor your timawa and alipin; we are the people who made it possible for you to be where you now are. When we speak, you have the obligation to listen, when we ask you for the truth, it is your obligation to give it, because you owe your positions to us. The taxes that are deducted from the money that should feed and educate our families pay for your salaries in Congress, and that of your staff, as well as for the upkeep of your offices and your jaunts abroad. Those same taxes pay for your pork barrels, as well as for the projects that you sponsor, as well for the kickbacks that some of you might receive. If there is anyone who should feel entitlement, it is us, not you.

Instead of listening to us, however, you persist in going ahead and doing what you want. You say one thing and then do another, and expect us to accept your inconsistencies. To make matters worse, you are proposing to muzzle us little by little, on the pretense of fair play. Our journalists and activists are hunted down and killed for daring to speak out, and no real efforts are made to obtain justice for their deaths. Now that we ordinary citizens are turning to the blogosphere, your Right to Reply bill, once passed, would also impose penalties on us for saying what we think, when you do not even have to include us in that bill, for our blogs have the right of reply already built into them in the form of comments.

Dear legislators, why is it so important that we be kept dumb and ignorant? Is it because, once all of the people know that power in this country is vested in them and not in you, you would lose your privilege to act with impunity? We do not need you to extend your terms. We are looking for what you should have done in the terms that you already had.

Our people barely have enough to feed and educate their children. Many have no jobs; many of those who have jobs are not happy because they are not working in the fields that they really want. Our schools are sadly lacking in books, our public clinics lacking in medicine and personnel. Many of our farmers have no land, and can barely afford to buy seed, fertilizers and pesticides, let alone farm machinery. Many families have no homes of their own, either due to natural calamities, war, or plain poverty. Are these not important enough issues for you to tackle, instead of scandals and jaunts? Where are the programs for agriculture and small entrepreneurs that are badly needed? Where are the laws on women's rights, on gender rights, on reproductive health? Why do our people need to go abroad and hire out as servants to other nations just to give their families better lives?

We do not need you to tell us what you may have possibly done, dear legislators. We do not even need you to show us. We just have to look at our country as it is today, and the state of our land and our people speak more volumes than your words. Right now, you do not need to change the Constitution, or the system. You are the ones that should be changed.

Note: A list of the legislators who endorsed HR 1109 can be found here.

Photo 1 by °м!мoji° on flickr; copyrighted.

Photo 2 by ossiak on flickr; CC License BY-NC-ND-2.0.

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I am tempted to do a Franklin Roosevelt and call June 2, 2009 "a date that shall live in infamy." At the 11th hour, when most of the nation was already asleep, our great and valiant legislators, many of whom are now in their last terms of office, passed House Resolution No. 1109 calling for a constitutional assembly, or con-ass. Knowing, however, how trigger-happy these same legislators are to pass their much-lauded Right of Reply bill with which they will seek to require us to make sure that they will personally rebut anything we might blog that they might construe as demeaning to them, or else they will use all their vaunted riches to send us to jail, I will just content myself with explaining how I chose my name.

Being a Star Wars fan since childhood, I adored Princess Leia. I wanted to be like her, but since there were no spaceships around, I figured writing a story like hers was next best. Funny, however, that as a child, I was at some degree aware of the concept of intellectual property because I never resorted to the fan fic type of writing (not that I knew then about fan fic). Instead, I created my own characters and my own universe. This time, though, the princess was not going to wait to be rescued. She would carry the sword, she would be the heroine. In a nod to my original inspiration as well as my own roots, I called her Princess Laya. I was then about fifteen.

The story started out as a space opera same as Star Wars, with the age-old theme of battle between good and evil. Her people had been enslaved, but were still fighting for their freedom. Laya didn't know who she really was, but her family had given her a "forbidden name," first, because it meant freedom, and second, because her people wanted freedom so much that Laya was a name given only to their princesses and queens. Through the years, however, it has undergone a lot of metamorphosis, from space opera to fantasy. The conflict remained the same, but the story in my mind became an allegory of a nation. Princess Laya, however, still stands, holding her sword, ready to fight on the side of good.

When I changed my e-mail address years ago, I didn't want to use my real name. All the other names I tried was taken, so finally I ended up using Laya's name for my e-mail. Then I wandered into a yahoo chatroom, and got so used to being called by that name that it stuck. I am even thinking now of officially changing my name or registering it as an official nom de plume.

When I think of Laya today (her handwritten, half-finished story reposes in a box at home, needing to be typed), I associate the name with a song I have also always loved since I was a child. It is the song we associate with EDSA, the song thousands upon thousands of Filipinos sang while they prepared to repel tanks and soldiers with their bare hands . One of the most beautiful songs our country has ever had.

Bayan Ko

Ang bayan kong Pilipinas
Lupain ng ginto't bulaklak
Pag-ibig nasa kanyang palad,
Nag-alay ng ganda't dilag...
At sa kanyang yumi at ganda,
Dayuhan ay nahalina.
Bayan ko, binihag ka, nasadlak sa dusa.

Ibon mang may layang lumipad,
Kulungin mo ay umiiyak,
Bayan pa kayang sakdal dilag
Ang di magnasang makaalpas?
Pilipinas kong minumutya,
Pugad ng luha ko't dalita,
Aking adhika, makita kang sakdal laya...


My Country

My country, the Philippines
Is a land of gold and flowers
Love is in her hands
She freely gives beauty and splendor...
And because of her sweetness and beauty
Strangers were attracted
My country, you were taken captive and plunged into the depths of despair.

Even the bird that has freedom to fly
Would cry if you caged it.
Would not such a lovely country
Aspire to escape?
My treasured Philippines,
Home of my tears and torment
My own desire is to see you fully free...

Continue if you care...

Life is good for a writer

"...life is a good thing for a writer. It's where we get our raw material, for a start. We quite like to stop and watch it." - Neil Gaiman

A friend of mine in another blogging community once told me, when I was lamenting writer's block:

"the gift never leaves you. it merely begins to sleep for a time. but even so, it will come back if you sit down w/ a notebook and pen. perhaps however what you need to do is go into the world and see it. they "write what you know". i believe in that--to an extent. but in order to have something worth saying, i wholeheartedly believe that you must continue to experience things to find your inspiration.

so rather than cursing the fact that your pen or cursor do not move, i suggest calling a friend and going out into this crazy world, taking in the sights and sounds of the people around you.

the gift never leaves you, and perhaps this will be a good way to re-connect w/ it?"

Yup, what books could we possibly churn out if we were trapped in an ivory tower, like Rapunzel? We would be chained forever to watching the world pass by in a mirror, like the Lady of Shalott. And theories are all well and good, but they still don't beat the authority of having experienced or seen something for yourself. Well, most things, anyway.

I think it's not just the actual experience, or the number of experiences, that one has to have in one's life, though. It's the ability to live in the moment that a writer has to have. It's the ability to look around you at a particular moment in time and be aware of everything: the sound of the aircon or electric fan, the coolness or warmth of the room, the prickles in your leg that had gone to sleep, the sound of your computer keyboard. It's the awareness that your hair has fallen out of its bun and is straggling around your shoulders, that somewhere outside your neighbors are yelling at each other because of money problems and their child is crying, and that your elderly neighbor on the other side is exercising on her rooftop to the tune of Spaghetting Pababa while wearing a purple leotard. When you have that awareness and you can write it down, you can then communicate it to your reader so that he or she can be transported to the same scene through vicarious experience.

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Dissociation

Ever since I was a child, I have had these strange experiences of being able to stand apart from myself and view a scene or a moment from the viewpoint of a stranger. I don't know if it is cause for alarm, though (do any of you shrinks or pop psychologists have an interpretation for this?)... anyway, read on.

I can remember many of these instances, triggered when I focus on something very intently. You know that moment when you stare at a word for so long that it becomes a meaningless jumble of letters? Or at an object, until you lose all sense of the object itself and see only a meaningless jumble of colors and shapes? I remember brushing my teeth while staring at the wall and thinking "wall", and then something fell out of sync, and I began to turn over the word "wall" in my mind and see the individual letters in themselves. Then, I began thinking about why the word is as it is, and from that leapt to the question of identity (why are things named so and not so?), and before I knew it, I was standing there with foam still in my mouth, questioning my own identity and getting lost in my own mind. It was a very alien feeling. I felt as if a stranger had taken over my own skin and I was looking through that stranger's eyes and questioning every thing that should have been familiar to me.

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Another world

Anyway, that reminds me of a moment about a month or so ago. Easter Sunday, I believe. I spent the holidays with friends, and that afternoon I was sitting outside in a hummock, enjoying the breeze and my last few moments of peace before I had to go back to the bustle of the city.

I was also idly watching and listening to everything around me... my friends' relatives and neighbors gathered at the gate, gossiping. Who won the lotto, who had problems with their husbands, why did the couple next door have a quarrel at the tops of their voices so early in the morning, what grades or year levels would their children be in June, who was courting whom, who was marrying whom. There were children running, playing games, rolling tires, playing chinese garter, eating fishballs, or isaw, or buying junk food from my friend's store. Across the street, at the bilyaran, the men of the community were either playing billiards or tong-its, and their wives were also discussing how to make their men stop.

In short, there were Larry Alcala vignettes everywhere.

As I watched and listened to them, so engrossed in the minutiae of their everyday lives, I realized that although I could blend in with them to the extent that most of them treat me as part of the family, there was a part of my life that they could never understand.

I know what a takalanan (people borrow money and pay for it with rice) is, and how a farmer's life goes. I know the tribulations of a sari-sari store / barbecue stand owner. I know how they live. I can live with them.

But they don't know what a blog is. What Plurk is, or twitter. Or LOLcats. Or even just LOL. Or a meme (as in sleep? they might ask). They would not understand why I spend so much time plugged in to the Internet. Or why I love reading for its own sake.

I looked up to the sky and realized that for most of them, the four corners of their barangay, of their town, was all they knew. That of all present, I might be the only one who knew of many more worlds than the one I was in, the only one who could walk in more worlds than they could know or even imagine. I was bound only by the limits of my own mind, but they were firmly rooted in their place. Yet, I was the one who could walk anywhere, fit in anywhere, but belong nowhere, while they knew of no other place than where they were, and did not care. And I didn't know whether to feel sorry for them or to feel sorry for myself.

Continue if you care...

You know you're really lonely when...

You check your crushes on their Facebook accounts daily in hopes one of them turns single.

You want to go out and when you call all your friends they have plans to go out with their respective partners.

You try to watch a movie with some friends, and you end up watching it after torrenting it instead;
Or you end up in the cinema alone and getting annoyed at the lovey-doves all around you;
Or you second-guess rejecting the guy who tries to make an indecent approach on you in the cinema.

You ask people out to watch the latest movie with you. By the time you find someone to go with you, the movie is already on HBO.

You're literally the odd man out in a group thing. Everyone goes with their S.O.'s, you go alone. Guess who gets to be the driver.

You meet a guy you'd like to know better... but he's already taken In fact, they all are.
...or he's gay.

The last person you held hands with turned out to be a guy.

Your ex-boyfriend is already married and has kids.

Your ex would rather get with a guy who looks like a frog because at least, he's Chinese.
You decide you also want to look like a frog because of that. (I'd rather just be Chinese, yo.)

You go online and look for someone to talk to when you realize that all the people you know are busy with their lovelives.
Or they talk to you... until their S.O. comes along.

You don't have anyone to spend the big holidays with (Holy Week, Undas and Christmas)

It's Valentine's day and all the other girls around you are carrying bunches of roses... so you buy a bunch of roses for yourself.

You plurk and nobody replies

Prostitutes pity you so much, they pay YOU to talk to them.

You send yourself text messages and pretend it's from someone special.
Your ex is around and you pretend to be talking to a significant other on your cellphone
Your ex is around and you pretend to be talking to a significant other on your cellphone -- and then your phone rings!

You keep telling girls you like who find boyfriends na "you're happy for them", but you're stifling a tear.

Your boss doesn't have any compunctions about asking you to do a lot of OT work because she knows you won't have anything else to do anyway.
You actually LIKE to OT because it helps you forget you're alone.

You end up being treated as one of the guys instead of, well, an interesting girl.

You're beginning to envy your old computers. At least sila, meron pa ring compatible.

You begin to hate listening to those Saturday radio programs where people ask for love advice... coz you have nothing to ask advice for.

You contemplate pulling a Mrs. Doubtfire just so you can teach in ICA.

You give a name to one of your pillows, the most huggable of them.
And... You sleep with pillows all around you.

You repeatedly go into malls para magpakapkap sa mga lady guards. (naku! iba yun ah . --Oist, hindi naman lahat dyan, based on experience!)
When you have a picture of your hand in your wallet and you are starting to think about proposing to it.

You get invited to an occasion and others bring their significant others. You bring your younger siblings.

Your idea of a "wild night" is videoke.

When you hear the word date you think of a desk planner and not a person... Hence, March 25 is a "hot date".
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This is from a Plurk thread started by Mistervader and participated in by yours truly, stuplurkdous, KimOfTheWorld, and jesterinexile.

It's still a work in progress, I think. LOL.

Continue if you care...