Pinoy Blog Machine (Beta)

Palagi na lang siyang iniiwanan. Mga babae ang dahilan sa mga pinagkakahiwalay niya sa kaniyang mga naging kasama sa buhay ng hindi kasal. Ngayon ay ikinasal na siya.

Pero parang uulit na naman ang kuwento ng pagtataksil. Maganda naman siya. Mayaman kahit mag-artista. Sikat ang pamilya pero bakit. Eto mama ang kuwento ni Dolly Carvajal.

Her beloved is said to be having a dangerous liaison with a pretty facialist. No wonder he frequents the skin care center while his wife is busy working. “Private cleaning sessions”—or are they up to something dirty? Do her services include clearing his conscience?

Kabibirthday lang niya. Ay kitang-kita sa mukha niya ang lungkot at pagtatampo.

SINO SIYA. Sagutin mo ako Boy Abunda. ahek.

entertainment,Kris Aquino,Boy Abunda,gretchen,celebrities

photo from sharoncuneta.com
Alam nating lahat na magkaribal sa popularity si Pops Fernandez at Megastar Sharon Cuneta. Pero sa Valentine concert ng megastar, nagharap ang dalawa. Ahahay.

Ito ang balita ni Leah Salterio galing sa Philstar.

For the first time, Sharon shared the stage with Pops Fernandez, her special guest that night whom she selflessly introduced as "the one and only concert queen." Pops instantly revved up the crowd with her dance medley that included ditties like Break Out, Locomotion, That’s the Way It Is, Dancing Queen and Walking on Sunshine. She worked the stage that is definitely all too familiar to her, having staged successful solo concerts, too, at the Big Dome.

When they were finally together on stage, Sharon surprised Pops with a personal letter that interestingly detailed how they were born on the same year, grew up together, attended the same parties and went to the same school, but never went beyond friends. As Sharon was reading her note to Pops, photos of their childhood and teenage years were flashed on the giant screen at the upper right side of the coliseum. It was truly a surprise that made Pops cry.

More amusingly, they traded anecdotes on stage so comfortably like they were just in a talk show. For a moment, one thought the two stars were probably oblivious of the huge crowd before them and simply kept on ranting about their lives, including their respective failed marriages.

Sharon said she is honored to perform on the same stage with Pops, whom she treated as "concert royalty." Together, they carried out saccharine ballads — Something New in My Life, How Do You Keep the Music Playing, Almost Over You, I Honestly Love You and The Promise. Later on in the show, Sharon and Pops dished out a vocally challenging duet, Whitney Houston’s On My Own.

O di va ang saya-saya. Dapat pamarisan si Ate Shawie nang ibang mga artista na habang nagkakaedad ay lalong nagiging popular dahil sa magaganda niyang ginagawa.

Sharonian forever.

entertainment,Sharon CunetaPops Fernandez,gretchen,celebrities

I was supposed to post here something yesterday (If I remember it right, something about the over-hyped media coverage of the death of Anna Nicole Smith and the current boycott campaign against Globe) but I was simply deluged by the work we have right now in the office. The February issue of the PJR Reports, promotional work for the Freedom Watch desk of the Center for Media Freedom and Responsibility (CMFR) and PJR Reports, CMFR's monitoring project of the media coverage of the 2007 elections -- all in this week. (Note to myself: Please do not forget that the annual work for the Jaime V. Ongpin Awards for Excellence in Journalism has just started.) And I should have updated CMFR's website eons ago. To think it's only February. Whew. I feel like a contestant to the "Amazing Race: The Philippine Press Edition."

So, while I'm busy racing against time researching, writing, and editing for CMFR and PJR Reports, I'll leave you with these two interesting news items:

Philippines: Special Courts to try Extrajudicial killings suspects

Manila, 15 Feb. (AKI) - The Philippine government will create special courts that will handle the case of extrajudicial killings in the country. The news arrives as President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo continues to keep the Melo Commission report on the issue secret. Supreme Court Chief Justice Reynato S. Puno said the High Court will establish the special courts that will have to rule on the political killings as well as those of members of the press.

The chief magistrate said he had already directed the Office of the Court Administrator to submit a complete inventory of all extrajudicial killings which will include ideologically-motivated crimes and media killings.

Read more here.

And in the war between YouTube and the Boob Tube, which media heavyweight is going to win? The Harris Interactive in the United States clues us in which platform is slowly winning the media battle for hearts and minds.

What happens to people who spend time surfing the popular video-sharing site YouTube? A new poll reveals that many of them end up spending less time in front of the television set.

According to a newly released survey conducted by Harris Interactive, a third of YouTube viewers say they now spend less time watching TV.

With the relationship between the popular site and broadcast television already strained by threats of lawsuits about copyrighted material, the survey’s findings seem to suggest how much of an economic challenge the Internet can pose for the television industry.

Click here for more.

I think no one wanted to have me as their Valentine.

Nah. I'm not one of those single people who weep about their single blessedness or feel hatred during Singles Awareness Day Valentine's Day.

But I quite looked like being passed around today. On the 13th, my friend Claudine agreed to have dinner with me. Cathy would have joined us. But alas, that didn't push through.

So I messaged one of my best friends Maricar if she would like to catch a movie or grab a bite. She said yes, and that she was even willing to flee her dad. It was a date. As I was to leave school already, she said she cannot wait for me any longer. Ouch. We agreed to just catch a flick on the 15th. But I warned her she won't be receiving flowers anymore. Hehe.

So I'm stuck at school. Without a Valentine. (Why do I make it sound like this is such a weird thing, when it is actually the norm?) Luckily, the boys were there to save the night.

So there we were at the trusty Engwalk. Hot single young boys waiting for equally hot chicks to pick us up. All nine of us: me, Lex, Baldo, Leo, Wil, Mark, Asia, Patrick, and Renz.

There was a lot of great talk. And a lot of tasty revelations. It was a great appetizer for the coming night. Unfortunately, Patrick had a date to respond to. That traitor! The esteemed Singles Club is thereby revoking your membership.

Hungry from all the yapping and tired of waiting for girls to pick us up, we decided to move and invade McDonald's. Frank joined us, but Asia had to leave. I was not too sure, but he was wearing red and punching the walls minutes before he left. Go figure.

I learned that it was a sort of tradition for them to eat at McDonald's and just pour their hearts out. Leo and I got initiated. Yaahhooo! Woot! Woot!

Okay, seriously now. I had Valentine's dinner with the boys and I did not regret it a bit. We talked about everything. And it was not just trashy useless gibberish, it was an actual conversation. We talked about our frustrations: academics, women, and friendships. It was surprisingly serious but refreshingly funny.

Wil and Baldo had to unfortunately leave earlier, but we carried on til around 2230. Even though we have obvious differences in interests (read: DotA), I never felt out of place with the group. In fact, I really felt that I belong.

I always have fun with these guys. There is something about them that makes the conversation free-flowing, true, and surprisingly meaningful.

Remember the Tropical Hut dinner a year ago? Battered by summer classes, an uncooperating project, and a lunatic professor, we just poured it all out that night. I saw this dimension in them that I did not even think they had.

That was seriously one of the best nights I ever had. And this one too! You see, I'm a sucker for those poignant talks.

Riding the bus home, I saw the World Light Expo in its blinding glory. It was beeyootifool. I am definitely going there!

I actually felt sorry for my dad today. As my mom was still in the province caring for my grandma, my dad was left all alone this Valentine's. I'm guessing my sister had dinner with somebody, my brother was definitely with his girlfriend, and I was, well, with the boys.

My dad had actually prepared a lovely Chinese dinner for us. I got home at midnight, and saw the cold food, still untouched. It actually broke my heart. So I took a few spoonfuls. Still feeling guilty, I actually washed my dishes for the first time. I actually hope that I can make it up to him in some other ways. But that requires a separate post altogether.

Tagged Tell 5 things that people don’t know about me and I wouldn’t mind them knowing. After my digital career in graphics ends, I will pursue my dream of being a chef.I have mild OCD but I think I have a handle on it. There are some that I just couldn’t look over like misaligned things, objects facing the wrong direction, crooked and scattered wires. When I was younger I

I've always belong to Team Coffee Bean. But today I'm on Team Starbucks, even if I still find their coffee too sweet, as I attended their little seminar, Starbucks: From Bean To Cup held at La Salle.

The Coffee Masters talked about coffee of course.


We got lots of media.


And a bag of free coffee beans too.


Starbucks thinks their customers are sticker-happy, so they decided to throw in the Coffee Passport as well.

But the best part was tasting the different regional coffees.

And also which pastries go with which coffee.

This tarpaulin sums up everything.

After the seminar, we had coffee at, you guessed it, Starbucks Taft. We raved and bashed our professors, which was fun. I suggested a feature to Brian and Steph for our organization's paper. I'm counting on them to take what I said seriously. *Grins*

I went home with Kat, who I had a great time talking to. It's really nice to get to know someone new a lot better.

Because Starbucks made me drink a lot of coffee, my bladder was about to explode by the time I got to SM Southmall. And because of this near-catastrophe, I'm sticking with Coffee Bean.

Life always has a way to surprise us.

Never did I think I could regularly have talks with Josef. No, they're not the useless yakety yak kind. We share our frustrations. Talk about different people. Discuss our academic woes. And then comes the fashion.

Yes, most often than not, the chatter are of the sartorial kind. I've never thought Josef has this side of him. It is worth mentioning he often starts these talks.

We gripe about size and fitting. We rave about Giordano, Folded & Hung, and Topman. Complain about skyrocketing prices. Inform each other of current and upcoming sales.

Very masculine, I know.

The end-of-season sales have commenced. Since I'd like to keep up with my fellow students in the blogoshpere, err, here are my recently purchased clothes. All from Topman.

Stripes for the win!

Yes to military.

Look at the detail.

Valentine's Day is nearing so I decided to have my hair trimmed today. I went to Fix at Alabang Town Center. After a half an hour wait, I was finished. So I handed out 200 bucks but lo and behold, the cashier, who was a bit cute, courteously said the bill was 225 bucks.

225 BUCKS? Up by 40 bucks since I last went there? For a haircut? Don't get me wrong. Fix is a great salon. 225 bucks is totally worth it, considering I get my hair shampooed and conditioned with lovely imported products, and I get a top haircut which the Top Dog truly deserves. Have I mentioned the free head massage as well? It feels like their hands are making love with my hair. It's so good that I can happily sleep with my head in the sink.

But then again, 225 pesos is a bit too much for me. I am sure I can find a similar salon offering similar services for a lower price. I'll just have to go and find one.

Let the hunting begin!
_________________________

On my way home today, the tricycle driver called me 'boy'. I'm not so sure if I should be happy or not. One thing I'm sure is that I am amused by this. Do I look like a kid?

Yes, I am old. There are times when I can see the effects of alcohol and sleepless nights to my body, especially my face.

I feel old yet act like young. Childlike even.

One of our guilty pleasures in the office is watching Eat Bulaga. So, while we're eating our lunch, we watch the silly and wacky antics of Eat Bulaga's hosts. It doesn't hurt to watch a ridiculously funny show when you watch ANC, CNN, and the countless news programs all day, no?

My favorite portion of the show is the "Bulagaan", that long-standing segment of Eat Bulaga. I remember when Diane, our Fil-German intern a few months back, was still in the office. She asked why we like "Bulagaan" and watch it all the time when the hosts' antics are more or less the same every day. I found myself and Lara speechless for a moment there. Truly, how do you explain the "Bulagaan" phenomenon?

Anyway, although I still like it when it's Vic Sotto and Jose's turn, my daily digest of "Bulagaan" now would not be complete without Mitoy. Mitoy, I am your newest fan.

More airtime for Mitoy! Bring back Chuchay!



In this video, Mitoy and Chuchay appear near at the end. Just be patient in loading the clip. I tell you -- it will be worth the wait.



By the way, this is my first post after upgrading this blog. I hope I won't experience any problems with the blog-moving -- heard some bad experiences from others who earlier upgraded their blogs.

That's it. Another term, another slew of botched quizzes. It hit me then that if I want to get rich and buy useless stuff later in my storied life, I better get my ass working right now.

So I've gone classical. Ever heard of the Mozart Effect? One study suggested that listening to Mozart (or any classical music for that matter) will increase your performance in class. I was THAT desperate, so...

For the past two days, I was listening to Vivaldi. Great stuff, actually. I listened as I reviewed. I listened before I slept. I listened while riding the bus. I had Vivaldi for breakfast.

Now, I cannot verify if it worked or not (I hope it did), but what I know was that I got weird looks as I bumped my head up and down like a rabid pianist. Treat this method with caution, people.

But that wasn't enough for me. Hell, if I wanted better grades I must as well feel like I could really get them. I needed to dress the part as well. So may I now present to you, Top Nerd.

That knitted jacket was my dad's way back in the 70's. Yes, it smelled like aparador.

Now I have had a few similar fashion blunders quirks. There's my "punk" phase.

I had a penchant for things cranial.

My heroes? Simple Plan and Avril Lavigne. You may now shoot me.

Next came my athletic look. I used to wear these wristbands all the time.

I even came to my cousin's wedding looking like the top seed at Wimbledon. The image still haunts me to this day. Notice the cute kitty drawing on my bedsheet. I hate pussies. Except the other kind.

Over the years, I managed to collect necklaces

and caps.

I am not promising to look like this everyday. It will just cause too much damage in my already crippled life.

Will the Mozart Effect work? The Top Dog Nerd will have to wait and see.

Years ago I wore something hard and stiff and tailored, had my hair and makeup done, wore heels that wouldn't quit, and spent way too much money on my prom pictures. Last night, back at a high school prom at 21, I took things much more simply. I'd learned my lesson. I put on some lipstick and gloss, threw on a slinky black dress and a wide red belt, slipped into shorter black strappy heels, and I was ready.

The night, in highlights:

• My friend Ruth, staring at the tattoo on my breast peeking out from under me dress while we were dressing up in her apartment: "What does it say?" Me: "It's a secret!" Ruth: "I'm going to be staring at it all night."

• Meeting Ruth's friend, Lizelle, who took Civil Engineering in uni and now works as an interpreter and a teacher. She told me she'd applied to SAID (a deaf school) right after graduating even though she didn't know how to sign at all. They trained her before she started teaching, and now she interprets for a living. I stored that fact away for future reference, filed under Things I Might Want to Do.

• Hearing some street children saying disparaging remarks about the deaf while I was signing with a bunch of deaf people. They were laughing to each other about how funny sign language was and making up their own signs, most of them predictably crude. I turned around and signed to them, while speaking in perfect Filipino, "Sa tingin niyo ba hindi kayo namin naririnig?" ("Do you really think we can't hear you?") The looks on their faces were priceless.
  

• Waiting for our ride and coming across two boys from the school, both of whom immediately asked to be introduced to me. One of them, Patrick, told me I was beautiful with this hilariously awestruck look on his face. I thanked him, grinning at his boyish awe. He asked me to be his date to next year's prom right there, and I said I would if I were still around. He looked at me like he'd never seen a woman before in his life. Nothing like a boy to make you feel pretty.
  

• Signing with a woman the whole night, and then both of us realizing only later that we were both hearing.

• A chaperone, in the bathroom, while eyeing my cleavage: "Mark [my date] is going to have a memorable night."

• Watching the deaf students perform their choreographed dance routine and marveling at how they could move in time with the music without ever hearing it. Noticing how observant they all were, watching we hearing people clap to the beat.

• Signing to Ruth from across the room with the music blaring and people talking, and being able to understand her perfectly.

• Learning from my date how to sign local curse words (the English ones I've already got covered).

• Being posed for the prom picture by the photographer with my date's arms around my waist and my body touching his, and trying not to giggle at how badly his hands were shaking and how... happy... certain other parts of his anatomy were.

• Watching one of the emcees (both of whom were deaf) speak into the mic as her partner translated in sign language, and realizing I was one of the few who could tell the mic wasn't working.

• Cringing at sudden shrieks of static, and having my deaf friends look amusedly at me.

• Telling someone I'm hearing and having him sign back consolingly, "That's okay, at least you know how to sign."

• Asking someone if his last name was French, and spending the next ten minutes trying to explain to him the existence of different kinds of spoken languages, and how to distinguish one from the other.

• Watching as the club lights flickered on and the dance floor became a free-for-all. Being unable to take my eyes away from the deaf people dancing unabashedly to their own rhythms, oblivious to the beat of the music. Noting in particular one couple grinding slowly and sensually against each other in their own world as the stereos blared, "Why do you bill me up, Buttercup, baby, just to let me down..."
  

• Getting surprised when Patrick came up to me with flowers.

• Watching as one of the emcees called sign language the most beautiful language in the world, and finding myself agreeing wholeheartedly.
  

What did you dream about last night?  

I don't usually remember my dreams, but today I did. It was an amalgam of seemingly random tidbits, but I'll skip through all that and get to the important part.

They were standing by the door to my parents' bathroom (which was conspicuously empty of my parents and any sign it was theirs) and when I came into the room I could hear them talking, but I couldn't hear what they were talking about. I walked on to the bathroom, calling for Ted, whom apparently I was involved with... and stopping short when I saw Rob standing next to Ted.

He was dressing up the way I've seen him dress up a thousand times. He had his pants on, and was leaning against the doorjamb as he buttoned his (still mostly unbuttoned) shirt. He looked so good, my cheesehead, that I was in shock for a full second. I hadn't expected to see him there.

And then I was on him, pressing my lips against all the parts of him that I could reach - arms, shoulders, chest, stomach - and I remember briefly catching the hurt look on Ted's face out of the corner of my eye... and quickly pushing the pang of guilt away. I remember finally settling down with my cheek against the center of his chest, just breathing him in and feeling him and being totally at rest. He didn't bend down to kiss me, as if not wanting to hurt Ted further with my obvious display of affection, and instead lifted a hand to my back and let it lie there.

I noticed then that he was holding a marker, and Ted was standing shirtless with an unfinished note scribbled in marker on his chest. I don't remember what exactly it said, but it was addressed to me. (Why Rob would be writing a note to me on Ted's chest I have no idea.) I smiled and told Rob to finish it, then.

He looked at me, began writing again, and I slowly spelled out the word he was writing with each letter. L... I... A... R.

My world reeled. Confused and panicked, I denied that I had lied in any way, but when I looked at Rob's face, I knew he didn't believe me. And suddenly the two of them, Rob and Ted, standing together in front of me, looked very much like two disgruntled ex-boyfriends who'd just compared notes and found me guilty.

And then I woke up, with the scent of him and the feel of his body against my lips - as well as his subsequent rejection of me - still very fresh in my memory.

Sometimes, even just a passing thought you don't act on can swallow you whole with guilt.

Anna Nicole Smith died today.

I was amused how my friend Marix and I talked about her death over the phone tonight. I mean, who was she? What did she really do for a living anyway?

Nevertheless, she was a beautiful trainwreck waiting to happen.

Some Filipino films have this tendency to put in commercial products in their scenes, especially if the stars in those films endorse such products. I've seen such films where the stars buy, eat, or use the products they are endorsing in real life. Is this some kind of a deal between the star and the product's company, perhaps, a deal that involves millions?

What happens if J.K. Rowling decides to cash in as much as possible with her last book in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows? An except, according to the Adfreak blog, would go something like this:

Chapter 2: Harry Meets His Roommates in Ft. Lauderdale

“So, like, have you ever hung out down here for spring break before?” Daphne seductively slurped a Caffeine-Free Diet Sprite, her lips doing calisthenics along the rim of the can.

Harry adjusted his Foster Grants. “My first time,” he said.

Daphne giggled, snapping her Doublemint gum in time to the music blaring from Bose speakers in the hall. The song was “Irreplaceable” by Beyonce, available at Virgin Megastores everywhere.

As Harry adjusted the cuffs of his Polo shirt and shuffled his Puma-shod feet, a dark figure appeared in a burst of smoke.

The skulking form reached out with Rolex-adorned appendages that looked more like claws than human hands.

Harry intoned: “Powers that be, protect this abode. You’ll harm us not as yonder toad!”

“Ribbit!” said the warty creature as it hopped across a copy of Blender magazine.

Daphne shrieked. “That was my fiance from Utica!”

“But ... he appeared in a plume of smoke!”

“So he likes to party. Don’t be such a narc!”

Daphne cradled the toad in her hands. “Trey wasn’t a wizard. He didn’t even have a job since he got caught stuffing his pants with McDonald’s Egg McMuffins.”

Harry’s head ached and his throat felt dry. “You wouldn’t have some Anacin or a Diet Coke, by any chance?”

Daphne gently kissed the creature’s back. “We’d been dating for six hours, ever since he drove up this morning in his dad’s Toyota Camry. It was the first serious relationship I ever had.”

“Look, I can remove the spell, change him back...”

Daphne curled up on the floor, a broad smile on her Lancome-lacquered face as she licked the toad’s bumpy head. She cooed, “Whose my widdle green American Idol?”

Behind the mirror, Sony video cameras recorded the scene for the wizards back at the Fox Television Network to air after all new episodes of House on Tuesday nights.

(Photo from Adfreak blog)

Today found me in the middle of what's got to be the most quiet cafeteria I've ever been to. My deaf friend teaches at SAID (Southeast Asian Institute for the Deaf), and she had asked me over for lunch. We hadn't met up in a while, so even though the time I had for lunch between classes was pretty tight, I said yes. I'm trying to follow the example of my friend Jay, and say yes more, so there I was.

I've been to the school before. I've taught deaf children and gone to the ice cream socials in Sacramento, so I'm pretty comfortable with being around deaf people. Still, as a hearing person, I never get used to it. Certain things surprise me about it every time.

It always seems to me that the Deaf are more intimate in their conversations than we are. Sign language is immediate. It's personal. With any spoken language you can distance yourself from the words. Sign language is a lot more tactile. You can't tell a sad story without reenacting it, using not just your hands but your facial expressions and posture to add emotion to the words. With sign language there's no disparity between what you're saying and how you're saying it; signs and emotions should flow into each other into one coherent story.

The Deaf are also much less anal about personal space. When a deaf person has his back turned to you, there's really no way to catch his attention than to come up behind him and tap him. Even during group conversations there's a great deal of touching between them for emphasis or to express a desire to sign.

I really should start meeting my deaf friends regularly. Today during lunch (which, by the way, took forever to finish - how can you eat while you're using your hands to sign?) I felt like I'd unlearned a lot of the signs I've learned before, but then that's my own fault for not practicing. I do pretty well when they slow down their signs for me (the equivalent of enunciating words), but when they're talking amongst themselves and signing one-handed and including some local slang, I'm still lost - especially when they're having a go at me and purposely speeding up their already lightning-fast hands. Even their fingerspelling went by way too quickly for me to pick out more than a few letters.

"Don't try to pick out the letters," a deaf person once told me, laughing. "Just pay attention to the shape." Right. Of course. The shape.

I'm also still having a bit of a problem because I learned American Sign Language, and over here they use Filipino Sign Language. FSL is similar to ASL, true, but there are still a lot of local signs to learn and replace my ASL ones with.

Still, I love it. There's something about learning (relatively) esoteric languages that really gives me a rush. Why I'm an Economics major is beyond me.

I definitely enjoyed my lunch out, as rushed as it was. Ruth (the teacher) and I made plans to meet up more regularly so we can get me up to my old signing ability again before the prom.

Yes, the prom. I was asked by one of Ruth's students to be his date for the prom, and in the vein of saying yes more, I said yes (with Rob's approval, of course). My first deaf prom - with dancing and music and everything. This should prove to be interesting.

So I finally decided to give blogging a try...

Wait, I own several blogs! But I mostly write for myself. This time, I'm gonna take blogging a bit seriously.

Let's see where this takes me.

Let me tell you a short story.

It was my sister's birthday.


We decided to have dinner at Gumbo, Mall of Asia.



We waited

from sunset

til nightfall.

The food came.

It was okay, but not memorable. Not nasty but not exceptional as well.

We watched the fireworks

which was the exact same shit I saw last week when I had mango crepe at Cafe Breton.

Made our way to Chocolat for dessert. I had the mandatory Bailey's Deep Dark Chocolate cake.

All this left The Topdog a happy and sane man.

Lost: Flash drive

It's the start of the term and I'm already unlucky. I just discovered that my dear flash drive was lost. She may only be 128 MB but she punches like a Terabyte.

I just do not know why she needs to run away. Did I not take care of her well? Certainly not! I may not have shown her much appreciation, but I was hoping she knows how I treasure her deeply. I always carefully place her in the deepest pocket of my messenger. I thought she felt safe that way. But maybe she felt suffocated.

She was a real beauty. And probably the sexiest I've ever met. When my friends see her, they always gasp at how small she was.

I will miss the way she swivels into life. I will miss how she gladly welcomes stranger ports and even hugs them without qualms.

Mademoiselle Flash drive, please come back to me. From time to time I may have mistreated you but I promise to take better care of you. We've been through a lot already. From keeping me awake during Dr. Cruz's class to seeing me bullied by Bryan during Cocirla. I've always trusted you, I've always thought you will be here for me always. I just did not expect to see you go away especially now that I need you for Mr. Francisco's class. Please come back Mademoiselle. I am not closing my door on you.


Go Kimmy!

So my dear Kim Clijsters served a couple of bagels to her poor opponent.



You were a bit unforgiving and ruthless. You could have sprayed a few balls outside for her to at least score a game. I was expecting it. You were always like this, unnecessarily serving bagels early in the tournament. Despite that, I still love you.

Dear Pilipinas, Di ko na alam kung ano mararamdaman ko sa iyo. Madalas pinapasakit mo damdamin ko. Pero nakakabawi ka naman dahil madalas din tuwang-tuwa ako sa mga katangian mo. Minsan di ko na kaya ang mga bagay na ginagawa mo sa akin. Minsan naman laking pasalamat ko dahil sadyang ganyan ka. Nakaka buang ang magmahal sa iyo, Pilipinas. Mahirap kasi dahil hindi kita matimpla. Di ko alam kung

Finally, the oldest creature in the ancient world of newspaper print shifts online. What does this development tells us? Are newspapers really going the way of the dodo?

A Distinctly Modern Demise for the World’s Oldest Newspaper
By Katharine Q. Seelye

The Swedes, who jumped into the newspaper game back in 1645, are taking another great leap forward: what is said to be the oldest newspaper in the world has gone digital and is now available online, and online only.

The World Association of Newspapers says that the country’s Post och Inrikes Tidningar, or PoIT, is the world’s oldest newspaper still in publication. Its new editor, Roland Haegglund, is its only employee.

“The change in format is of course a major departure, for some possibly a little sad, but it is also a natural step,” Mr. Haegglund told Agence France-Presse, which first reported the story.

Read more here. See also the Wikipedia entry on PoIT and its website. Dodo bird's picture taken from this site.

20 years old na ako…
Sabi nila kelangan ko ito icelabrate
Dahil ito ay isang step sa buhay ng tao Ang pagiging bente anyos ay isang tanda ng pagiging ‘malaya’ baga…
Sabi ng isang kaibigan,
“dapat icelebrate mo yan dahil 20 ka na, hindi ka na teenager!
Dahil mula nang mag 20 years old ako,
Hindi na ko tinatawagan o tinatanong kahit late ako umuwi.”

So syempre dahil sa tulak ng mga kunsinti,

The United Nations will be sending an official to the Philippines to conduct a probe on the spike of extra-judicial killings in the country.

According to this article, "Philip Alston, Special Rapporteur of the UN Commission for Human Rights, will conduct the probe from February 12 to 21."

"More than 800 people have become victims of extra-judicial killings in the Philippines since 2001, most of whom were leftist activists. Other victims were human rights workers, labour and peasant leaders, as well as journalists," the article added.

According to the Center for Media Freedom and Responsibility, there have been 61 journalists and media practitioners killed in the line of duty since democracy was restored in 1986. Half of these killings happened during Pres. Gloria Macapagal Arroyo's watch.

This just in:

From TXTPower's Tonyo:

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Visit TXTPower's site here for more details. The banner above was taken from the said site.

As they ridiculously say in NBN 4's Teledyaryo, "Balitang Taartits muna tayo.... Cha-cha-hin mo, beybeeh!"

Quezon City court drops editor’s libel cases against actress
Source: Freedom Watch

TWO LIBEL cases, this time filed by a journalist against an actress, were dropped on 30 January 2007 after both parties reached an out-of-court settlement.

Quezon City Regional Trial Court Branch 88 Judge Rosanna Fe Maglaya junked journalist Jo-Ann Maglipon’s suits against actress Claudine Barretto after confirming that the editor-in-chief of Yes! and former executive editor of Hi! magazine was withdrawing the suits. Yes! and Hi! are both entertainment magazines published by Summit Media.

Barretto first filed an injunction and a civil suit for damages against Maglipon on 22 July 2005, claiming that her photographs had been published in Yes! without her consent. The July 2005 issue of Hi! magazine carried photos of her daughter’s christening. She also claimed to have received “non-stop negative publicity, craftily disguised as feature stories.”

Read more here.

Is CNN's fair-haired (no pun intended) boy Anderson Cooper the counterpart of celebutard Paris Hilton in the TV news world?

Entertainment columnist Gail Shister of The Philadelphia Inquirer writes:

Anderson Cooper, Paris Hilton: See the resemblance?

Who needs Rosie and Trump when CNN and Fox News Channel are duking it out in a Steel Cage match?

Latest volley in the verbal jihad between the cable rivals is an FNC ad in trade journal Television Week blasting CNN golden boy Anderson Cooper as "the Paris Hilton of television news."

Responded CNN president Jonathan Klein, "It's a sign of desperation to resort to infantile name calling."

Read more here. Photo of Cooper saying to his co-anchor in 1997, "talk to the hand!" taken from Wikipedia.

By the way, while I find the phrase "verbal jihad" Shister used quite amusing, can we use jihad to refer to any fight or argument?

From Wikipedia:

Jihad, sometimes spelled Jawwad, Jahad, Jehad, Jihaad, Jiaad, Djehad, or Cihad, (Arabic: جهاد‎ ǧihād) is an Islamic term, literally meaning struggle in the way of God and is sometimes referred to as the sixth pillar of Islam, although it occupies no official status as such.^[1] Within the realms of Islamic jurisprudence, jihad usually refers to military exertion against non-Muslim combatants.^[2][3] In broader usage and interpretation, the term has accrued both violent and non-violent meanings. It can refer to striving to live a moral and virtuous life, to spreading and defending Islam, and to fighting injustice and oppression, among other usages.^[4]

Jihad is defined here as "striving in the way of God." It also said that "jihad is often used to refer to an armed struggle fought in defense of Islam." In this site, jihad refers to a "holy war or struggle." A more thorough discussion of jihad can be found here.

I hate when people tell me "it wasn't meant to be" - whatever it refers to at that time. They always say it so soothingly too, with concern etched into their faces. As if it's supposed to make me feel better. As if they mean for what they say to be consoling.

I know that people who say it mean only the best, and so when they say something wasn't meant to be, or speak of fate, I try just to smile strainedly. I try not to take it personally as I know it usually isn't meant personally. But really, I can't help but feel offended.

The idea of fate might be comfortable for some, but in my opinion it is appalling. If something is not meant to be, who means something to be what it is? The very statement presupposes the existence of some higher power which controls all aspects of my life - of everyone's life. The very notion of fate insults me by robbing me of my freedom to choose. It insults me by assuming I am so weak, so incapable of willing, that I can't live my life the way I want to.

I don't mean to say that I can do anything, or that my will solely determines my life. I can want something and do everything I can to get it and still not have things turn out the way I want them to. I believe we're all thrown into the river at birth, a river whose current draws us down the stream, and no attempt at swimming against the current will succeed for long. We can change our paths a little, but the overal flow of it - downstream - is something we can't escape.

How is this different from the idea of fate? The idea that such a path is meant. That that such a path is the only one that exists.

Something that is meant is something that is planned. I refuse to believe that my life is planned. Sure, the general direction of it is set in stone, but the river is only a tributary with many paths and many endings. Often - not always, but often - I can work with the flow to choose which path it pushes me into. The only thing "fated" is death. What I do to get there, or even how and where I die, is left primarily up to me.

Something that is meant is planned in such a way as to make it meaningful, with the right to coin the definition of meaningfulness arbitrarily assigned to some "Un-meaned Mean-er" (sorta like Aquinas' Uncaused Cause, except much more grammatically awkward) or Unfated Fate. I determine what is meaningful in my life, thank you very much. What people call fate or destiny or divine will I call coincidence. No meaning about it. If I step out of the house and get struck by a freak streak of lightning, that isn't some unescapable verdict from the universe about how well (or badly) I am living my life. That isn't a sign from god that I'm a sinner. That doesn't make me 'unlucky'; the kind of luck I believe in does not curse or bless with some predetermined pattern. Luck is random. Coincidental. So the lightning? I would say it just happened. And move on.

I look at where I am in my life today as a combination of luck and will. Some parts of it I decided I wanted and worked to get. Other parts I never thought to want or did anything to bring about. These coincidences I certainly didn't plan, but that doesn't lead me to conclude that anyone else planned it for me, either.

"Not meant to be" is a crutch. It's what people tell others and themselves to reject the threat to their egos. No, it's not that I was lazy or that I didn't try hard enough; it's that it wasn't meant to be. To me that's disgusting. Comfortable and convenient and understandable, but still disgusting. Either take responsibility for your actions if the disappointment was due to your lack of will, or accept the random tragedies that comes with the luck of the draw. Don't create some abstract entity to shoulder your burdens.

On the flip side, "meant to be" is plagiarism. Have you ever done something you're really proud of? something you worked hard for and sweated over and cried over because you wanted so badly to get it right - and you did? I have. I won't say what it was, but I will say that the first person I told about it said of it, "It really must have just been meant to be". I wanted to slap him. *I* made it. Me. Don't tell me that the only thing that kept you from making it instead of me was my 'destiny'. It was my effort, unique to me and willed by me, that made the difference.

Really both sides ("meant to be" and "not meant to be") are cases of plagiarism - except that instead of attributing my mistakes (or the striking of chance) to Fate, "meant to be" attributes to Fate my triumphs. The truth is that my successes, as well as my failures, are mine and mine alone. To deny this truth would be cowardice or ignorance.

If I ever come to you crying, don't tell me "it wasn't meant to be". Tell me only that it happened. Tell me only to move on.

*** Disclaimer: the preceding entry is not based on recent events.