Resolving The Backlog

It may appear that I might already be in hiatus as far as blogging is concerned. But I'm not.

All these weeks, I've been saving posts every now and then, resolving to evolve them later on to full-length articles ready for publishing.

Apparently, that hasn't worked. Right now, I have a long list of unpublished posts stretching all the way from July. Some saved posts just have a few keywords in them, reminders of why I saved what and what I should write about.

If you must ask me why I haven't been "blogging" lately, it's simply because I can't expound on the posts I've already saved. Don't worry. Everything is tucked in my head. The only problem is that the moment I start to write, writer's block comes back with a vengeance. Call it laziness, or downright procrastination, but the point of resistance these days has grown stronger. I just can't write anymore.

That is why I'm writing this post. It's my way of saying that it ends here. From now on, I won't save any posts for October until I finish everything I've saved. So expect posts from the yestermonths popping up every now and then. It just means I'm busy cleaning up the house.

Peace out.

I Think I've Been Had

This afternoon, I just bought another device for the house: the Extreme Power Saver. It's actually a power factor correction device touted to lower one's electric bills.

My interest (and eventual decision to buy) hinged on curiosity. I found a similar device in Landmark when I was in Manila. I really wanted to buy one for our room but that purchase never materialized. Now, I saw another one tucked away in Ace Hardware's labyrinth of shelves and I wasted no time buying the device.

When I got home, however, I was overcome with buyer's remorse. I researched my new toy in the Internet and found a lot of scathing reviews against this line of products. In a lot of online forums, many techno-geeks were remarking that the product doesn't, in fact, lower your bills. If you were searching for information about these devices, chances are you'll be reading a lot of stuff purporting that these devices are mere scams.

But hope springs abundant for me, though. One site says that, although it's a long shot that such a device will reduce one's bills, it can still help in preserving the environment. The device actually does lower the amount of electricity wasted in your home, something which will prove to be crucial in the long run.

In addition, in another forum, one cyber geek exclaimed that these devices work best when there are old appliances running ancient motors in the household. These appliances might not have the electricity saving features found in newer models so these "energy saver" devices can have a huge impact in this case. We do have one ancient appliance, the rusting air conditioner in Papa and Mama's bedroom, and I hope that some magic will work here.

Needless to say, the verdict is still open until the next bill arrives. Till then, I'll be crossing my fingers.

Rethinking The Faith

In all honesty, I envy those who have converted to Catholicism rather than being born into the religion. Their faith is so vibrant, so strong that it puts my own to shame.

These are people who hail from a different religion or who are non-believers to begin with and, yet, once they've become Catholics, they become the most pious of us all. They know more about the Catholic faith because, in their journey, they have subjected themselves into intense research and soul-searching. Their stories are vivid reminders of the need to continually cherish what we have and to commit to what we believe as Catholics.

Here's a link to a site telling one such story, of a woman who had been an atheist in the past but is now a fully fledged Catholic. Let her journey inspire us even more.

TV Reality Show + School = Another Idea

Rayray made me think of it. It was another school night and my brother was ranting out on the many free riders in his group who were contributing nothing to their project.

Free riders. That word lit up an idea. I could recall vividly my first year biology class, when some of my group mates, who were serious free riders, wrote their names on the cover page of a report I labored on my own. I was fuming inside but, because of that blasted concept Pakikisama, I went along with that idea.

Free riders disgust me. Which is why we should make school projects more like TV reality shows. Let me thresh that out for you.

In a TV reality show, people get eliminated or voted out. The ones who vote are the members of the group themselves. There is no clear-cut criteria of who to vote out but the process is, nonetheless, integral to the show's concept.

In a school project, this exercise can also be implemented. Say, there is a project which would require an entire semester to complete. The project can be subdivided to several levels, each representing stages of completion. For instance, if the project is a paper, each chapter in that paper can constitute a level (with other levels added to accommodate other steps like brainstorming, rewriting, etc. whatever is more applicable).

Now that we have levels, then we have points in the project where the group mates can vote each other out. At the completion of a level, the group is given the chance to remove somebody who hasn't contributed to the group's effort. And this goes on and on until those who truly belong as a group are also the ones who are left standing in the end.

Since there should be another way to redeem those who have been cast away, those who have been voted out can form their own group as well. The disadvantage here would be that they will be starting all over again and with another group of people. If a group chooses not to vote anyone out, then it is free to do so, but at the first sign of free riding, the group must take immediate action lest it affect the group's efficiency. Having said this, voting someone out remains an option that can be exercised by anyone.

This may sound elitist to you but I really like the idea. There are a lot of people out there who ride on other people's backs. These are the people we should eliminate or at least change and I hope this simple academic exercise can pave the way for a "free rider"-free student body.

A Song

Back when I was in college, I thought of myself as a potential song writer. Never mind that I didn't play any instruments nor was I blessed with any musical gift whatsoever. But, I remember the days when, just to save a few pennies from my baon, I would walk the entire length from the National Highway to our home and come up with songs along the way (Something I already hinted in a previous post).

When I was in fourth year, I did manage to come up with one last piece, a sort of last hurray to college life. I had the lyrics in place and the tune played perfectly in my head. I even managed to have my sister sing the piece for recording so I can endorse it to someone who can come up with the musical notes for the song.

That I actually did, or at least I tried to. I had a classmate in fourth year who was an adept guitarist and a good singer too. Faith heard the song, thought it resembled another one, and that was the end of the song's journey to stardom (In hindsight, I should have paid her. Talent fees would have been cheaper then).

Perhaps, someday, I could hire someone to actually bring the song to reality but, for now, I'll just write the lyrics down. If you're curious about the tune, just let me know. And if you happen to have a friend who can finish the song (ergo, "play it" with real live instruments), I would be happy to meet him or her. Here goes.

Song Title: Graduation Song
(Yeah, after two years, the title is still a work in progress)

Song Lyrics:

Summertime is coming and graduation is near
And I guess it would seem that I'll be missing "you and me"
Yet I thank you for the years that had been
For the time that we'd spent with each other

And I hope that wouldn't mind
If I didn't want us to bid each other goodbye
Because what I'm really trying to say
Is that I don't want to see you go away

Let this not be goodbye
Let this be not the end
Let this be just a point
Where we start all over again
And I wish you would say that
We will see each other again

It's okay if you meet someone new
Friends who'd be there
Always near beside you
It just hurts that our time had to come
When we must part ways (journey apart)

Let this not be goodbye
Let this be not the end
Let this be just a point
Where we start all over again
And I wish you would say that
We will see each other again (someday)

Help me remember the memories
I don't want to let them go
If you could just hold my hands
And say those words
We'll make it last forever
You and me together

Let this not be goodbye
Let this be not the end
Let this be just a point
Where we start all over again
And I wish you would say that
We will see each other again

When Aid Is A Bad Word

Contrary to common belief, aid can be a two-edged sword. Here's an article from Boston Globe explaining just that.

One example in the Philippines is how a political clan in Central Mindanao had manipulated USaid and other sources of funding to solidify their political dynasty in the area (Another article here). It is widely believed, but not thoroughly investigated, that most of the funds intended for the development of the ARMM region have been diverted to serve the interests of the Ampatuan clan.

Perhaps, one lesson to be gained here would be the imposition of a criteria for would-be beneficiaries of international aid foundations. One organization can employ strict metrics in measuring the progress of their interventions. This then eliminates any attempt at misappropriating funds and holds the beneficiary accountable for any diversion or ill use of money. If one country fails to do so, aid is cut off. As simple as that.

Pretty harsh but, still, it might work.

Anyway, just to digress, here's another article from The Atlantic featuring a new brand of philantrophy. Read on.

Weddings And Marriages

I just like to share an excerpt from W. Bruce Cameron's book, 8 Simple Rules For Marrying My Daughter.

The scenario is this. Sam, the author's daughter, is about to get married but a pretty stressful confrontation with her groom's sister has left her seriously questioning whether to get married at all. Bruce, the father, comes to the rescue assuring Sam that she can cancel the wedding "right up to the moment you walk down the aisle..." This pretty much lifts the bride's spirits and Bruce beckons the groom to have a private talk with Sam. Standing outside the room, Bruce eavesdrops on their conversation:

I couldn't hear what they were saying, at first, until Geoff raised his voice.

"I don't care about that, Sam!" he said sharply.

I decided that in the role of protector of my daughter I should slide over to where the voices were coming from, by the vent. If I needed to burst in and punch Geoff in the nose, I was willing.

"I just want to be married to you," Geoff was saying. "I never cared about the wedding. Look, why don't we take the tickets and just leave, go to Hawaii. Elope, get married there."

I found myself sort of wishing he'd come up with this idea a few thousand dollars ago.

Sam asked him something I didn't hear.

"No! None of that is important. It's you, Sam, don't you see? I love you. I want to be with you. That is all I care about."

I unclenched my fists. Who a woman marries is her choice, not her father's, though clearly we could use some legislation to fix that. So ultimately, whether there was a wedding today was Sam's decision, but were it up to me, I felt that Geoff had earned the right to be her husband.

The moral of the story, you say? Well, if your groom doesn't care about the wedding as much as you do, don't fret just yet. Maybe, he cares about something bigger than the wedding. Maybe, he cares more about getting married to you than being wed. Dig?

Revisiting Arnis

It was my Tita G's forty-day anniversary (She passed away earlier this year) and we were having a dinner salu-salo at my Lola's house to celebrate the day.

Out of the blue, my uncle, Bingbong (who is actually younger than me), brandished his arnis stick. He had to leave early because he still had to practice.

I was surprised and for good reason. You see, my uncle isn't exactly the sporty or the warrior type of guy. Bingbong is thin and would fit better in an internet cafe rather than in a gym full of flying sticks. But there he was, saying he had to go because he still had arnis practice.

I sampled one of his sticks. Hmmm. Not bad; not too light but not too heavy either. The guy knew how to select his rattan (unlike me who would go for the aesthetically pleasing varnished sticks which weighed like feathers). I then asked him the name of his group and I was again surprised when he uttered, "MK".

Mandirigmang Kaliradman.

MK was the group I joined back in college and it was also the same group I visited when I went to Manila. So before Bingbong left, we had small talk about what had happened to the group over the past years.

As for me, I haven't wielded a stick since early last year. I don't know. Maybe, I just don't have the time to rekindle this passion.

But I still would like to practice again, even if it means going back to Level 1. Bingbong had invited me to come aboard again but I knew it wasn't the right time yet. I still have lots of stuff I must do and returning back to arnis is the least of my priorities right now.

Maybe next year. Next year then.

Confrontation 3

Oh man. It's been over a year and I haven't done this yet. Got to find time. Got to find time.

Anyway, for those seeking enlightenment, here's a link to an article about open burning.

Writing Block

It doesn't mean that if it's a lazy Saturday morning, then I can write.

I love this saying from Sir Dom's presentation:

Art begins with resistance - at the point where resistance is overcome. No human masterpiece has ever been created without great labor. - Andre Gide

Like any other creative process, any other art form, writing, even just for a blog, is demanding in its own unique way. I would rather doodle all day than squirm my butt trying to finish a post. Though informal, a blog post is still a micro-essay; it has to make sense and it has to be complete (well, sort of).

What makes blog writing funny (as opposed to "fun") is that one doesn't have to do it. Most of the time, there's no external reward and there's no punishment either for not updating your blog. The motivation is purely internal; it's something which cannot be grabbed from somewhere else.

But, I guess, what makes it tantalizing to write another post is the fact that it's quite gratifying. It's gratifying overcoming resistance. It's gratifying finishing something you don't like in the first place. It's gratifying pouring out your soul, no matter how laborious it must be, into words and sentences conjured out of thin air.

So there you go. Another post. Another point of resistance surpassed.

De-urbanization

Cities grow bigger and bigger. That's the natural tendency since history began.

However, city planners nowadays, especially in Europe, are faced with a novel dilemma: how to deal with shrinking cities.

I just forgot where I read that article but it featured de-urbanization and how some city planners are preparing for it. It may sound alien now but, over time, this concept will soon evolve and become a philosophy of its own.

It thus contradicts with what we are currently practicing. Today, raw land is converted to either residential, commercial, or industrial lots since that is its highest and best use: to be converted into something "beneficial" to humans.

But, in the future, there is a huge possibility that a lot of areas in the world's cities will be abandoned. I might say this can be an effect of both a shrinking population and a gradual shift to a more sustainable lifestyle (which thus shuns the energy-intensive city life in favor of life lived in the surrounding rural landscapes). By then, we will have to contend with what to do with those vacant districts.

I think that article mentioned that such a phenomenon is happening already. Due to the economic crisis of 2008, much of Detroit became deserted. In Germany, there are operations to demolish lonely parts of the city and revert these back to nature.

Maybe, that's just a natural progression. Rather than the end of civilization as we know it, de-urbanization is just another step towards a more nimble, more nature-friendly human race.

Accident

There was an accident when we were going home from Nabunturan. It was along a curve near Mawab. A motorcycle with two passengers, a man and a woman, collided head on with a van. We happened to pass by just moments after the accident happened.

Papa stopped the car while Mama, being the Red Cross volunteer that she was, inspected the victims. My cousin, who was a policeman and who was with us then, began contacting his colleagues in Nabunturan to report the situation. My sister got hold of the victim's cellphone and began contacting some numbers in the phone book, informing the mother and a sister about what transpired.

Why am I writing about this? Well, that's because I want to talk about the typical Pinoy response to this kind of "spectacle".

Soon after, a traffic jam ensued. The van, the victims, and the twisted motorcycle were left untouched. But a crowd began forming a circle around the two victims and the main issue soon revolved around how to control the crowd.

Most of these people were simply curious, like wide-eyed children on their way to their first trip to the circus (Some disgusted me, like that one fellow who bellowed to his companions, "Bay, naay bangga bai!", with a grin plastered across his face).

Some had good intentions which, unfortunately, were matched with equally idiotic reactions. There was a man, according to my mother, who proposed that they lift the woman by the arms and legs and carry her off to a car bound for the hospital in Tagum. Thank goodness, Mama was there to stop him. Otherwise, such a haphazard way of transferring the victim would have aggravated the woman's injuries.

Another scene involved a tactless woman who approached Mama and exclaimed, "Ay, patay naman tong lalake." At the mention of this, the woman-victim's eyes grew big and Mama had to comfort her again, saying her husband was being treated and there was no need to panic (The husband died anyway but at the hospital, not on the scene).

Papa kept a straight face throughout the episode but it was clear he was affected when he started shouting at us to climb aboard the car when the medical van and the police finally arrived.

I, for one, was the diligent spectator. Knowing there was nothing I could do, I looked on at a distance, observing the flurry of movement.

The driver of the van was nowhere to be found.

And that sums up a story.