Pieces of Paper = Priceless

It was horrendous, utterly, shockingly horrendous. The way the Typhoon Ondoy devastated San Mateo was just absolutely terrible. For one little boy there I saw on the news (I forgot the name), this was certain. I mean how could he not cry given the fact that his entire house is still filled with flood waters? How could he not be saddened by the fact that most of the family's earthly possessions are gones, swept away by the current. The worst thing, however, the final blow to make him bawl his eyes out was this: all his books are now soggy mush.

That's right. That little boy was wailing was caused by his textbooks turning into pulp. It was the fact that his books plunged into oblivion that saddened him most.

Now, I know. It's books --- pieces of paper bound together meant to be read. You could procure one very easily. Hey, I even recall my second-hand copy of the classic French play "Cyrano de Bergerac" by Edmond Rostand being bought for P10. Yes, you can get a book for the same price of a McDonald's ice cream cone. So why the fuss?

But you see, those words imprinted on that paper happen to do something very valuable --- feed our minds. Through those sentences, our minds are taught to imagine. Those pieces of information and the values that come along with it will get embedded in our brains for future use. And just what future use might that be? Well, after all, the constitution mentions that education is integral to national development.

I really admire that boy for valuing his education like that. After all, like I've said, to value education is to value the future of this nation. The gratitude he had when he received those donations of school supplies to replace his submerged ones shows his appreciation to be given a chance to fulfill his dreams through an education.

I suppose it shows that they're not just mere pieces of paper, after all.

From Brapan With Love

No, that picture is not just to grab your attention nor to just simply have you drool all over your computer keyboard!

The very much dashing guy in the photograph is none other than Akihiro Sato, a fast-rising actor and model gaining fame all over Asia. Oh, and he happens to be Brapanese.

Yes, he is indeed one of them. He is part of one of the biggest trends in Asian modeling. I see a few heads being scratched out there, so let me explain.

The term "Brapanese" pertains to those individuals who happen to be a combination of Brazilian and Japanese (So no, it has nothing to do with a newly-birthed country or a bad medicine name). Apparently, there's a lot of them out there. The recent influx of these individuals in our television screens and magazine covers most certainly displays that fact.

I suppose you could blame the fact that Brazil actually has the highest Japanese population outside Japan. That's right. 1.4 million people of Japanese descent call Brazil sua casa . The huge square in Sao Paulo for Japanese festivals is evidence of the immigration to the South American country.

When you think about it, these two cultures couldn't be more worlds apart. First of all, well, take that in a literal sense. The two nations happen to be on the opposite sides of that world map. Secondly, there's the mood sort of given off by the countries. Japanese culture is deeply rooted in a very structured, black-and-white tradition. Brazil? Well, you are talking about the birthplace of the bossa nova (a song style characterised by not following the traditional beat) and Carnival. Then, there's the matriarchal vs. patriarchal societies. Brazil was, after all, Amazon territory. This is a far cry from Japan's "The-daughter-is-no-longer-our-family-once-she-marries" rules.

That's why it's utterly lovely how these two nations can easily harmonise like that. The fact that these two countries with their contrasting ideas can come together and form one lovely community is just remarkable. Yes, they may have their disagreements, but in the end they see that they are, in a way, one human family. It's just that they have different skin tones.

In the same way, we are called to harmonise with everyone --- including those whose beliefs and principles are quite different from ours. We should respect one another's opinions. Hey, it's the least we could do to our fellow humans.

Unity in diversity is lovely. Yes, even lovelier than Akihiro Sato's face.

Another Long-Winded Thank You Note

Okay, so this is the second half of my epic-long thank you to some of my favourite teachers.

This time, I’d like to focus on those from my college level, plus a few inspiring souls who may not have taught me in the classroom, but most certainly taught me in life.


Mr. Mark Cayanan (1st year college literature in English --- both semesters)

It’s hard to forget a professor who keeps harping in his class that he wants to be Michelle Pfiefer as Catwoman.

With his magenta Chuck Taylors, cute little pose sitting on the teacher’s table and faux-hawk, he made poems and short stories written in who-knows-when very fresh and current to his iPod toting class. At the same time, he also exposed us to post-modernist works that would make purists roll in their graves. He basically showed us something essential that literature espouses --- freedom. In literature, you are free to choose who influences you or which style to follow, even whether to write a poem about a glass of mucus (It’s been done. Sharon Olds, you are slightly sick!). And it is with that belief of freedom that he respected his students’ critical analyses of works, no matter how messed-up/ultra-feminist/cheesy/insert adjective here they sounded.

Need I mention the fact the modernist and post-modernist poems we discussed in his class are my influences in writing style?

Mr. Ariel Diccion (1st year college Filipino literature --- 1st semester)

Let’s just say I wrote a piece about him for an essay writing competition in the newspaper. Oh yes, that’s how much I admire this guy.

I do not know where to begin to describe this man. I suppose I could start by saying how much he cared for each one of his students personally --- enough to take time to memorise us by our nick names rather than just call us Mr. /Ms. (Insert surname here), like many professors opt to. Or, perhaps, I could start by telling you of how he loves sharing his passions to his students. We truly enjoyed our class viewings of plays (as theatre was certainly a passion of his). Perhaps, I could start by saying that he was the most understanding, respectful professor I’ve had. He never tires of answering his students’ questions, not matter how mundane it is.

Perhaps, it’s this (and the fact that he’s admittedly cute) that made many of his female students have a crush on him (myself not included!).

Ms. Myrna Escoto (Literature)

We at the writers’ guild fondly call her Mama (pronounced the French way) for a reason. She is, after all, the number one encourager and (when needed) nagger for us to expand our creative wings. She’s always up to date with upcoming literary competitions or symposia, so we, her “children” could join them.
Just like a Mum, she also knows every single secret our guild members hide in the deepest chambers of her heart. She knows, for example, the man who’s the cause of the sudden de-sarcasm of my poetry. Haha! We trust her like that.

But please, Mama, why not just a gentle nudge than a nag? Haha!

Sir Winston de la Cruz (Copywriting)



In the past semester we’ve known him, he’s mentioned stepping out of the box probably hundreds of times already. That’s exactly who he is – unconventionally wonderful. I mean which other advertising teacher would assign his students to write love sonnets to unreachable objects of admiration?

Kudos to him for making writing fun.

Ms. Julie Manzon, Mr. Charlie Codizar, Ms. Alexa Aguipo, Ms. Jessah Princesa, Ms. Karen Pedroso, Ms. Fatima Rico, Ms. Michelle Jakosalem, and Ms. Gretchen Flores (BSEd – English)

They’re also known as my future teacher friends (as they’re secondary education majors)

I utterly enjoy every single minute of intelligent conversation with them –whether talking about the complexities of Shakespearean verse or discussing a poem one of them has written or simply talking about the day’s events. That’s the thing with hanging out or conversing with teachers, I suppose. You most certainly learn oh so much every time you’re simply with them --- whether in class or barraging their Multiply with comments.

Their big hearts full of passion also show whenever they talk of a certain inspiring student or a new idea on how to teach a topic. It’s very much encouraging, really. To see hearts so on fire about impacting their students makes you want to ignite that flame of purpose in what you do.

Oh, need I mention that they have the most rapier wits ever, so every “banatan portion” is extra hilarious?

God

I don’t think I need to expound on how amazing a teacher He is. He is, after all, Lord of All, including teaching. Enough said.

To all of you noble souls who use your lives, talents, and intelligence to impart wisdom, yes, you guys who mould us to be history makers, I greet you a very happy belated Teacher’s day!

A Long Winded Thank-You Note

You want to pass out from all those exams they give. They suddenly call on you to answer some question about Marshall McLuhan’s ideology on communications. They make you do piles and piles of paperwork. But, they also inspire you with their passion to impart, not just knowledge, but wisdom. They guide you through the tumultuous world awaiting for you after school. Sometimes, they even lend their listening ear as you pour out your soul to them.

And today, we celebrate these noble individuals we call teachers. Yes, it’s Teachers’ Day, a chance to appreciate these souls who have moulded us to be who we are today.
Like any individual on this planet, I’ve had my fair share of mentors who have left an indelible mark in my persona. Who I am can be partially attributed to they who’ve spent some time in the classroom, imparting wisdom to their students (myself, included).

So in honour of Teachers’ Day, here are a bunch of educators who hold special places in my heart. Oh, and if you detect an English/Literature/Writing teacher bias, well, you’re not the only one. Haha! Blame my interest for these subjects, I suppose.

Ms. Josie Flora (5th grade English)
We can call her the woman who started it all. By “it”, I mean this insatiable, arduous, fervid love for literature and language that I still carry in me now. This fine educator made grammar rules (Shock!) fun with her with her quirky way of delivery full of games and other tricks. The spark to ignite my literary flame, she is.


Ms. Aurora Rufo (1st year high English)

A foundation needs reinforcements, and Ms. Rufo was just that to my developing love for words. How could you forget a woman who, for example, came to class in full Spanish-era costume to explain a short story? Or how could you forget someone who presented the debate between Jose Garcia Villa’s “Art for Art’s Sake” movement and Salvador Lopez’ “Art for Society” mantra as a sort of literary catfight? She made the world of words oh so tantalizing to a high school freshman like me.

Oh, and the fact that she never spoke a single negative word to her students? That must indeed be commended.

Mr. Kiko Vega (2nd year high English)

If the first two mentors started creating a love for words in my heart, this man cemented it there and put it in some impenetrable, bullet-proof titanium box so nobody can conquer or destroy the passion. I can not find where to start on how he pretty much encouraged me to further dive into my passion.

He always believed that there is great potential lying inside his students, so he always pushed us to try our best – whether in public speaking, writing short stories or in the cheering competition (as team manager for the sophomores). Oh, and that encouragement for someone like me who was, well, way outside the box, greatly impacted me. How great? Part of the reason I completely changed sides from La Salle to Ateneo (where he graduated) was because of this guy’s teaching! I thought if the university can produce a teacher of this caliber, it must be a wonderful place to study in. Haha!

Mr. Roel Elardo (3rd and 4th year high history)
…Not to mention, one of the most kick-bum class advisers on the face of the earth! He won’t take c**p from his students, but he was always there to listen to everyone who just needs someone to be there. Yes, he was a father figure to us. He was sort of embodiment of the saying “A teacher is your second parent”.

As a history teacher, I loved how he always asked “why”. Every event in history indeed has a reason --- rational or not. And I suppose it showed the humanity in these historical figures….and how we, ourselves, can be history makers.

I think this entry is getting a little too verbose. I suppose I’ll just have to continue on another entry.

Typhoon Mastercard

This is a story of a might-as-well Mastercard commercial set in one day due to the Typhoon Odong.

Texting your friends where to meet up to help in the relief effort ---- P5.00, probably.

My friend Kim always has this heart to help people. Her generous, caring heart is indeed one remarkable thing about her. Whenever you need volunteers --- whether it’s to organise the PE 12 dance or to help collect money for Xeroxing handouts --- expect her to be there, ready to lend a helping hand. And so, it came as no surprise that she’d be involved in the school’s effort to bring goods to the victims of this ravaging typhoon.

But, of course, an operation as massive as this needs as much people willing to volunteer their time and effort. So when Kim asked me if I could help out in sorting and packing goods for the mission, I readily accepted. It was five pesos of load for a cause.

Time spent carrying goods to the gym, sorting them out, and distributing them evenly ---- 5 exhausting hours.

When I arrived at the college building I saw just how much work I was to perform. Boxes and boxes of noodles, toiletries, clothes, canned goods and other relief materials littered part of the first floor of the college building. I was then called to the covered courts to sort out the donations.
The amount of materials in there was even more massive than that of in the college building, and what? I’m partly in charge of sorting them out? Okay then, let’s go. I separated medicines from a previous medical mission according to whether they were expired already or still usable. After that, I was called to separate the boxes of goods according to categories --- apparel, canned goods, noodles, powdered drinks, and liquid drinks. We had to carry the boxes and place them in particular areas of the gymnasium set up as zones for each type of good. My goodness, my rather muscular arms have purpose after all! Then, the clothes sorters called me on to further separate the apparel according to age and gender classifications. As I rolled each piece of clothing, I was growing tired, and it seemed to me that work would never stop. For some reason though, I kept smiling as work loomed and loomed. Perhaps, it’s the realisation that yes, I am making a person out there smile with my toil.

After a pizza break (Thank you, Sir Harvey for treating us volunteers.), it was another plunge into work. This time it was removing the individual packages of noodles from their wholesale bag. Again, my athletic built worked in my favour as it was easy for me to open each bag without relying on scissors. Then, it was on to separating the streams of Milo and Nescafe sachets into individuals.

Perhaps, the hardest and most grueling part was when we had to distribute each type of good to form one relief package. There was calculation involved (Is one Aro chocolate milk cup equivalent to two sachets of Milo?). There was some kneeling and back bending involved trying to place the goods on spots on the floor. There was even me almost tripping on a can of corned beef.

It was indeed one grueling time, but it was time very well-spent. By the time my parents had to pick me up at 3:00 pm, I was ready to sink into the car seat and collapse.

Six packs of biscuits (courtesy of me) + one frozen yoghurt to rejuvenate from a day of work (courtesy of dad) = P245. 00

When we got to Alabang Town Centre, there was one place I wanted to go to --- Makati Supermarket to get some biscuits to add more food to those to be distributed. As my Mum scoured the aisles to get food for the house, I decided to compare prices and grab the most sensible deal to add to the cart. I promised I’d pay for those, wanting to give out of my own resources.

Then, my Dad announced that he has a little surprise for me. You see, I’ve always wanted to try White Hat’s frozen yoghurt, and he thought that I deserved it after the exhausting time I spent sorting and carrying stuff. I must admit that it was delicious, but what was more scrumptious was the pride in my parents’ eyes as I regaled them with stories of a day well-spent

Knowing you’re part of alleviating flood victims’ situation --- priceless.

*** Okay, so my story-telling skills aren’t as splendid as usual. But hey, give me a break. I’m writing this when what I really want to do is crash.

SM

*** This is my valiant attempt at Tagalog poetry. Yes, indeed, it's my very first time to write a poem in my vernacular. It's just my first draft; I'll most probably edit this out.

This is a little post-modernist, so go ahead, give it your own interpretation. And yes, I do hope you like it!

Comments are very much duly appreciated.

SM

Ang ibig sabihin
Ng SM ay
Shoe Mart
Ang ibig sabihin
Ng shoe ay
Sapatos
Ang ibig sabihin
Ng mart ay
Tindahan


Eh, bakit ang dami-daming taong
Nagpupunta ng SM

Tumatambay at
Nagsasayang
Ng oras,
Nanonood ng sine upang
Makawala
Sa mundo,
Inuubos ang pera
Kakalaro
Sa Timezone,
Nagbabayad ng mahal para sa
Pangalang
Naka-imprenta sa baso ng kape

Ngunit di naman
Bumibili ng sapatos?

Foot Raising

This is basically the third part of my “I Love Heels” saga. Oh yes, I still am very much enamoured with footwear some of my friends compare to Medieval torture devices. Much to the dismay of the people I tower over even in flats, I could practically say that I live in heels (After all, even my slippers at home have a wedge heel.).

But, I never realised it would actually reach this point. I never thought my penchant for foot raising devices would actually affect me when it came to orthopaedics. I suppose it’s inevitable. After all, I hadn’t worn flats for more than two months, so when I did, I felt a strange sensation in my feet. Could it be? Have my feet gotten so used to heels that wearing flats now makes it hurt (unlike the usual in reverse)?

I couldn’t deny the sharp, shooting pain on my feet’s arches. I’m not quite sure what caused it, but my guess is the constant use of the pointed foot position required for heels. To have to suddenly release my feet from that raised pose must have shocked the arch, ergo, the throb. Neither could I deny the abrasive feeling of the floor being so close to my feet. Yes, I sort of felt that my foot was being grated by wood parquet or concrete or whatever I stepped on. Blame the fact that I always kept my heel at least two-and-a-half inches (my lowest heel length) away.

And yes, I do admit it. It’s not natural to feel this way about flats. As my dear friend put it so aptly, “You know what? You are quite the opposite of most girls. I know of a lot who complain about having to wear heels, but you?” To have my feet complain for their being in the natural position they were made to form is quite hilarious, ludicrous even. My goodness! I’ve made the pointed, unnatural foot the normal.

And that’s exactly how you start a habit. I know that in today’s society, it’s not really normal anymore to not cheat, or follow traffic rules, or smile at people, but if you actually start to put these things you want to develop into practice, the abnormal becomes normal even if just for you. All these habits become intrinsic to you if you actually make it a, well, habit --- something you do every day. So if you want to start making a change for the better, you better start.

And yes, that means I’m still going to wear three inch heels to school!