Planning For A Planner

Slurp.

(Courtesy of geog.queensu.ca)

Yes, it is that time of the year: when people of a certain economic class (or want to be perceived as being a member of it) start ordering drinks from their favorite coffee house, all in pursuit of a daily planner.

Truth be told, I tried it once (and was actually successful in obtaining one using the drink-64-orders method), and my lame-ass excuse was because while I did not smoke, my work colleague who I was constantly with did and because we both love coffee and he had to smoke, we would hang out at Starbucks which would satisfy everyone, and get a free planner, to boot.

I really shouldn't be saying "free" because (1) not even water is free and (2) have you sat down and tried to compute what it would actually cost to get the "free" planner? (The miser in me never looked back once I did the math.)

A disclaimer, first: I am not an enemy of capitalism. I think this is a shining example of creating a need where none existed before, it taps into a human need, both for tradition and inclusion, and it is most certainly legal while earning big revenues for the coffee companies.

My biggest disclaimer has to do with economic status: if you can afford it, then by good golly, go right ahead. Do not apologize for your financial success or capability (though this shouldn't apply to those who just "inherited" their money), splurge on it, the same way I don't mind people placing odd sounding chemicals on their faces or getting "cut up" in an attempt to look younger. It's your life, your body.

But the stingy part of me always raises the alarm, especially for those who are "wannabes": do you need to pay thousands of pesos for a planner, and gaining truckloads of calories in the process? (Not to mention sleepless nights with that much caffeine running in your bloodstream)

I'm talking about the people who need to go to Starbucks and other similar coffee houses because it's cool to be seen in these places, as far as perception goes.

If the defense is "bakit? masama ba mangarap?" then the answer is an unequivocal "no". Everyone is trucking along hoping to get a better future, and if you've somehow managed to do so, tastes do change. But not if you're not there yet. I know someone personally who tries to keep up with her amigas by shelling out hundreds of pesos on a drink and some desserts but actually has a problem with the amortization of her home, and needing to utang just to get a ride home.

It's people like her that seem so easily lured into the "planner mentality": I have to get it to maintain my (illusory) social status.

It's been my observation (unscientific, but there it is) that we seem to be obsessed with appearances, and not substance. As long as the guests are well-fed, who cares if we blow out the monthly budget.

We have actors and singers who can't act nor sing, but because they have washboard abs that can grate cheese or breasts that would make watermelons blush, they get the contract.

No one should know that we are in debt, so we have to keep making extravagant renovations on our house, which can be taken away any time now.

There is a preoccupation with seeming, instead of being.

Of seeming well off, instead of being financially secure.

Of seeming glamorous, instead of being happy.

Of seeming to prefer aspiration, instead of being authentic.

There is, of course, that cultural value of hiya, or shame, one we share with our other Asian neighbors. The loss of face, the gossips that might result, the judgmental stares - something that social scientists have recorded and dissected. And while it can sometimes be useful as a pseudo-warning device for propriety, I can't help but wish that there more substantial, more meaningful things to be ashamed for, and of.

Besides, where a planner is from is nowhere as important as what's inside it.

So, maybe it would be a nice question to ask, once you get the snazzy looking date book:

What, now?

Using Guilt As A Weapon

(Or how you become a topic for a blogpost.)

One finger out, four fingers back at you.

(Courtesy of neillneill.com)

After my breakfast in Greenbelt, I decided to take the less frantic route back to work (read: through the mall, and not the pedestrian walkways) since the mall would be open by the time I finished my meal.

As expected, there was a "sleepy" feel walking through Greenbelt, as shops were just beginning to open. As I got closer to the escalator, I noticed that some people were frozen in their spots. (About less than half of the people in my range of view.) Everyone else was either strolling through or getting to their shops for work.

Curious as to why some people were rooted where they are, I became cognizant that something was blaring through the mall speakers: a prayer that was asking for blessings for the day's shoppers, and the mall workers. Since there is a Catholic chapel in the midst of Greenbelt, I concluded that this was a Catholic prayer. I proceeded on my way to the escalator as originally planned.

Fortunately for my blog, I had to pass a group of "rooted" middle-aged ladies. Their heads were supposedly bowed down, but they would look furtively from side to side to see what everyone else was doing. In my mind, I described them as not really being that deep in prayer if they had time to survey their surroundings while going through the motions and appearance of being "prayerful", but that's their life, not mine.

Perfectly content with not minding them, I was not returned with the same courtesy.

The lady standing in the middle started giving me the evil eye, and nudged her companion to her left, shaping her mouth like an aardvark's towards me. And as I was about to step on the escalator, they both lifted their heads to audibly say, "Bastos. Di nagdadasal." (So rude, not praying.)

I smiled back, and said "I'm not Catholic."

As my ride was getting higher, the one on the left tried to have her parting shot: "Dasal parin to. (This is still a prayer.) You should have prayed."

In one fell swoop, she has outlined the problem with organizations like the CBCP (Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines) in the current RH Bill debates: they don't care if you're Catholic or not, they have to get their way.

I could hear the prayer still being said over the speakers. And since writers should have the last word, I motioned my finger to my ear, and hollered back:

"You're a Catholic, why aren't you praying?"

That shut them up.

Have You Seen Etiquette?

I haven't seen her lately.

This is the new norm?

(Courtesy of impactlab.net)

1. Taking the escalator upwards, we noticed a family in front of us: two adults and three teenagers. They looked excited to be having a meal, animatedly discussing options for their gustatory adventure. 

Reaching the top landing of the escalator, they decide to hold a family meeting right then and there: should we go left or right, asked the mom. Maybe we should try Japanese, quips the younger daughter.

Of course, we bump straight smack into them because the escalator doesn't stop operating just because you decide the mall is your "personal" space. And for something we couldn't help, both parents look at us and deride us as bastos.

"You decide to stop here because of your cluelessness and we're the ones who are rude? I'm sorry, is it Opposite Day?"

It went right over their heads. I was right: Clueless. And I mean in life.

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2. A public bus driver decides that since he is on EDSA (Epifanio de los Santos Avenue), he can swerve from the rightmost lane where he just picked up passengers, to the leftmost lane because it is the "fast lane", which is precisely the reason why I'm on it, so I don't have to deal with the homicidal driving techniques of those directly in charge of public transportation and the riding public's safety.

I slam the brakes so hard, the screech could rival the wail of an ambulance siren, and I feel the rear part of the car slightly elevate, almost causing me to slam my face into the windshield despite my seatbelt.

And just for fun, the bus driver decides to go right back to the rightmost lane, as his "birthright", because we all owe him the right to pick up passengers whenever and wherever.

If looks could kill, a dozen private car owners/drivers would have been charged with first degree murder.

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3. In my usual coffee shop, there is a long mirror that is accessible only from a seated position. (Or if you're willing to curve your spine to the point of stooping. Or challenging your core after your first Pilates class.)

 A lady dressed in her power suit enters, sits at the table in front of me, decides it's a good time to do her makeup and her hair while everyone is eating. For good measure, she also takes out her appliances (cellphone, tablet) and charges them simultaneously with her extension cord. 

When one of the cafe personnel approaches her (after waiting for 15 minutes to assess her) to tell her that she should at least order something so she can be considered a customer (a nice way of saying hello, you think all this is for free?!?) she has the audacious gumption to reply back, "Hello! I'm a potential customer! So rude! Just because of that, I won't order anything. You can blame yourself!"

We all thought she would leave in a huff. She stayed on charging her appliances, for thirty more minutes, without ordering anything. I guess we can at least say that she's true to her word?

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4. While walking along a narrow sidewalk, a bunch of call center agents (you could tell by the identification cards and the out-of-workplace twang in their accents) were on the sidewalk across the street, all four of them practically occupying the entire width of the walkway because they insisted on walking side by side. I assume it's because they only share a single brain and it only functions in that specific lateral position.

They come across a construction worker (carrying his tools with him) on the same sidewalk but in the opposite direction, walking towards them. There was no room to budge towards the street because the jeepneys in Makati have appropriated it as their personal parking space - any comments, Mayor Junjun Binay? - and are parked front bumper to rear bumper so I thought the best solution was bigayan (giving way) among pedestrians.

Maybe the call center agents have a better solution, which was to disregard anyone else who passes by from the opposite direction, and claim the sidewalk as their own. They proceed to run smack into the construction worker, and they all gasp in American expressions, with the loudest of them going, "Oh my gosh! That is so rude! Hello, we were, like, walking here! Can't you see?!? Are you blind? Couldn't you just, like, move? I mean, like, hello! There's only one of you and four of us, duh! Do you have to take up so much space? Gosh!"

Maybe they were trying to finish their English requirement for examples of irony?

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5. Fil, a friend who has moved to Singapore, relays this occurrence on social media. Apparently, being a resident of a First World country doesn't automatically mean you have manners.

Well known for their efficient public transport system, Fil takes the buses on a daily basis. On one such trip, his bus came to his stop and so he already positioned himself near the bus door so he could exit quickly. When the door opens, a nun is waiting to get on. Seeing Fil by the entrance/exit of a crowded bus, she sarcastically says: "Would you like to move?"

To which Fil replies, "Would you like to wait for the passengers to alight?"

You can also see this on a daily basis here. Just check out the MRT train stations. Watch how incoming passengers push their way in the moment the train doors open, preventing passengers who want to disembark from doing so.

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If you've seen her, tell etiquette she's desperately needed.

"What's Your Day Job?"

We should be so lucky.

(Courtesy of diyphotography.net)

This question was posed to a friend of mine, a professional dancer and dance/fitness teacher, right before she was due to make a dance performance. It was an innocent question from one of the production staff people in charge of getting information from the performers.

It puzzled her because she was doing what she loved doing, it just so happened to also put food on the table.

Pressed for a reason why a professional dancer would need a "day job", the staff person replied, "I have to introduce you as _________ (fill in "accepted" occupations like doctor, chef, etc.) and that dancing is just a hobby."

The infantile in me would have easily blurted back, "Jealous much?"

It brought one thing to focus: there is a notion (I don't think it is limited to the Philippines) that you can have something you're passionate about, and you can have work that pays the bills, but you can't have both.

People who write, dance, take photographs, anyone who is in the arts, feel this viewpoint more acutely. There seems to be a belief that once you mention that you are an artist, it must be qualified by the word "starving". Or more accurately, the qualifier isn't needed, it is implied and understood. Hence, the question asked of my friend.

The underlying message being, you don't expect me to believe that you actually make a living doing that?!?


It also explains the following scenarios:

People expecting you to take their pictures because you have a camera in tow all the time as a photographer. Gratis.


People expecting you to "show us a dance or two". For fun.

People telling you to teach a movement based class. For an hour. For free.

People making pakiusap (asking a favor) to do their graphic design needs, anyway "it's very simple only."

All the while, everyone else is making a profit out of your art, the one they insist on pooh-pooing. The one that parents like to remind their kids of as "useless" and something that "will be a dead-end." The one that is seen as a "lowly" job, one that credit card companies would perennially raise their eyebrows on.

I am reminded of one of those posters in Facebook that reads: Do something that you love, and you'll never work for a day in your life.


You see, the one thing artists have is passion. What artists do tends to be personal, because a part of them is invariably stamped on their "work". Whether it is a composition, a recital, a mural, a feature article. It isn't a job where you can "copy and paste" from somebody else - well, you can, but they're called plagiarists, and something very much frowned upon in a field that prides itself as having practitioners who can claim the word unique in everything they do.

And, I would wager, artists have a work ethic that can be described as intense. Rethinking a sentence over and over to properly convey a thought, doing a pirouette so many times the dancer's toes start to bleed but having to do it to give a perfect performance, I personally know of so many artists who are almost obsessively perfectionist in the way they approach what they do. It runs counter to some of the portrayals in media of artists who are shiftless bums with no aim in life.

I wish we had a better appreciation of the arts and how it speaks to our inner lives. Until such a time comes to pass, this view that the arts are something to "pass the time away" while slaving at your "day job" will prevail. The changing of the current viewpoint should be started by parents and schools, who should nurture talent when it manifests. Children shouldn't be given negative messages like "your talent is worth nothing", unless one was a sadist. They should be encouraged.

And I wish to differentiate it from the current obsession of young people to become artistas (celebrities). Yes, they dance, sing, act, but the companies that mold and train them do so in the view that these people are products, and are doing the "training" in order to sell records, movie tickets, etc. The prevalence of reality shows that are supposed to showcase budding actors and singers worries me, as most of the time, the "winners" are determined by text-voting, a clear cut indication that their "appeal" is more important than the actual talent they supposedly bring to the table. The siren song of fame proves to be irresistible, judging by the number of young people who line up to be part of these shows.

Back to my friend who was asked the title of this post. She declared that dancing was her day job, much to the wonder of the person soliciting the information from her.

If only everyone was so fortunate to be doing what they love best for a living.

Packets And Prada

No, this isn't the name of a cafe latching on to the renowned luxury brand.

Unlimited supply?

(Courtesy of thehairpin.com)

It is a tasteful way of regaling events that happened in the most untasteful way.

Taking my caffeine-seeking constitutional to one of my favorite haunts, I placed myself at a corner where there would be the least amount of customers passing by. The only downside was that the station where the cream and sugar packets were available was near it. It was a choice of either that, or staying where the people line up to place and get their orders. (It's a small place, but it has free wi-fi. Cost-benefit analysis. And the coffee is good.)

As with most coffee places, conversation was plentiful but hushed and huddled. There is the occassional loudmouth with their "look-at-me" disposition, and unfortunately for me, this would be one of those days.

A woman of almost 50 entered with her kids (two of them) in tow, as well as a couple of friends. She "casually" announced her new purchase - meaning with no subtelty at all - a bag from Prada. While parading across the entire coffee shop, she loudly mentions that she hates the seats of the only available table, "walang sandalan, mahihirapan ako!" (The chairs have no back rest, it will be difficult!)

As expected, they were a noisy group. She seemed to be the Alpha in this cluster, as they would wait for her to start a topic before giving their commentaries on any subject she tossed. (What a day to forget bringing my earphones.)

After a while, I noticed that she got up and excused herself from the group. She then went close to where I was seated, and started getting numerous packets of cream and sugar, enveloping them with her almost pudgy hands, then proceeds to place her loot into her by-now-well-introduced Prada bag.

The image of her earlier statements professing an air of sophistication was jarring to this recent action, to say the least. The act of trying to get these packets to "take home" when you've practically bragged how much you are spending for a bag is, to put it mildly, unseemly.

And, as is often the case with these kinds of individuals, they manage to eke out an even deeper level of incredulity in myself.

She proceeded to go back and forth to the same station four more times, getting more and more packets with each run, that I was tempted to give her a few pesos to ensure that she can buy an entire whole bag of sugar along with another bag of those individually wrapped creamers, which she obviously adores.

It's disconcerting to see this phenomenon. Unfortunately, it isn't isolated.

I once witnessed a guy of about 30, with his family in tow, in Burger King. This was when they still allowed public access to their vending machine, because they had a policy of "unlimited drinks", where you could just buy a plastic cup and refill your choice of softdrinks or apple juice all you want.

He proceeded to the vending machine with his Coleman container, and filled it up to the brim with softdrinks. He went back to where his baby's carriage was, proceeded to get another Coleman container, and this time, filled it up with artificial apple juice, much to the consternation of the restaurant manager, who did not lack in giving him the evil eye, but was rebuffed by feigned indifference.

Incidents like this must have prompted the management to change their policy on refillable drinks: they now place the machine behind the counter, and you have to ask a server to get you the drink of your choice. In the proper cup provided.

I've also witnessed people in Wendy's when they order the Make Your Own Salad item on the menu. You are normally given a plate for one person, go to the Salad Bar, and put as much items as you want. In this case, some people read it as "as much as you can", so this is what I've seen at least thrice: They get the provided plate, which they then place on a tray. The tray is them lined with lots of tissue paper, covering every available space.

They then proceed to get as much items from the Salad Bar and place these on the tray, not the plate.

Talk about getting more than your money's worth.

That's exactly what this is about: a combination of selfishness as well as nakaisa ako (I put one over you). I've noticed this pride - however misplaced - from these individuals who feel they are "beating the system": Who cares if others paid full price for a set deal, I'm going to fix it so that I "win"!

This extends into almost anything that can be considered "broken" with our culture.

I get paid in full, even if I report late and leave work early, the boss is too stupid to notice, anyway.

I'm in a hurry, who cares about this one way street sign, there are no cops and I have a party to go to!

Since my salary is so low, let me just get this office equipment, and write it off as a "fringe benefit"...what? No one uses this machine anyway!

If you add the "woe is me" view so prevalently ingrained in our culture, it is a potentially dangerous mix of people acting under the misguided assumption that life - everyone and everything else - owes them something because of their "situation" and trying to "beat the house" with a false sense of righteousness.

Yes, I got all that from the woman stuffing her Prada bag with packets of cream and sugar.

Why Corona Should "Come Out"

Coming Out is a term used in the LGBT community to describe the process more completely labeled as "coming out of the closet". It means a decision to lay waste to subterfuge, deception and fear, and allowing your real self to be exposed, and to publicly identify oneself as a member of the LGBT community.

(I have known of the term LGBT since the late-80's, which stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender. I was surprised when one of my readers had to ask me what it meant, proving once again that the struggle of the LGBT is far from over, when the very term that describes the community remains unknown to some people in 2012.)

You should really consider coming out. Now.

(Courtesy of newsinfo.inquirer.net)

So, why should Corona "come out"? He is, by all accounts - all 82 of them, sorry, I had to go for the in-joke - as straight as they come, so it has nothing to do with his sexual orientation or identity when I say that. But as I intimated, coming out implies one to be honest with oneself and with the world. There are similarities for both him in his particular situation, and for those of us who have made that trek. (So graphically described as pagladlad ng kapa in local parlance, or an unfurling of the cape. Not too incidentally, I believe this is where the LGBT group Ladlad derives its name.)

(1) Aren't you tired of hiding yet?

People who have come out of the closet - voluntarily, let me qualify that - are those who are tired. Tired of all the little stories they had to tell people as to where they really went over the weekend, who they were really with at the movie premiere, tired of having to sit through another heterosexual fix-up. Tired of hanging out with the "buddies" having beer and ogling half naked women in an attempt to be "one of the guys".

In Corona's case, isn't he tired of all the stress that he is going through? He has proclaimed, at the start of this trial, that he will face all charges "in due time". We only saw him on the first day of the trial in the audience, then poof! He has made himself scarce - in the trial that is. Yet, he goes on national TV, on various stations and even on radio, to "air his side".

Clearly he has something to say - saying it on trial will make it official. Much like those who have come out of the closet, who see it as an official break from their old life, one characterized by lying and putting up a face.

Or more likely, a farce.

(2) It becomes easier to see who matters and who don't.

One thing that became evident when I came out: I saw who, among those who identified themselves as my "best friends", saw me for who I was, and those who did not because I failed to conform to some "ideal", and that any break from that supposed ideal meant I was not worthy of being called a friend (let alone a best one).

Once you come out, you become quite adept in determining which people are worth your time, your affections and even your love. You learn quickly which relationships do not matter, or which ones are those you should cherish.

Has Corona considered what this trial has done to his family? They have been dragged into this, for public scrutiny, all because he is steadfastly clinging to his guns, trying to hide and make things murky, having TROs (Temporary Restraining Order) issued by the court he heads, having his lawyers resort to technicalities, in attempts to conceal information rather than to reveal.

(Of course, his wife is in the center of the BGEI scandal, so she has to answer for those herself. But the children, who have lives of their own, and are not in the country...they are now part of the vernacular, as party to something sordid, all because he has refused to be open about the details of his conduct.)

The common perception is that he is holding on to his position because he has to protect the person who gave him - illegally - his current position, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. He is seen as someone who can provide legal obstacles to anyone who dares to bring Arroyo to be accountable for all the horrendous transactions and practices that happened during her term. (ZTE, fertilizer scam, "I am sorry"...I don't think we can list them all.)

If Corona comes out with the truth, it will be easier to see kung sino ang mas matimbang (who weighs more): his family or his benefactor.

(3) It decreases the chances of someone "blowing the whistle".

No matter how much you suppress who you are, if it's part of you, it will be revealed, sometimes sooner, sometimes later, but it can never be completely hidden. Related to the first item, it takes work to construct a "fake life" - just ask the government agency in charge of the witness protection program. LGBT people still in the closet spend considerable amounts of time, effort, energies, all into making sure that other people remain "comfortable" in their presence.

And is a classic recipe for paranoia: "Did someone just see me buy this book?"; "I hope no one saw the card I sent her that said "I can't wait to be with you, Claudia."" Your next note, your next purchase, someone could see it as a betrayal of your membership in the LBGT community.

And someone could spill the beans and force you to come out.

I don't think we need to regale yesterday's events one more time. Wait, I think we do, since Corona hasn't considered this point.

Now that is publicly outing someone.

(Courtesy of manilatimes.net)

Ombudsman (woman?) Conchita Carpio Morales has revealed in her investigations that Corona has dollar accounts with transactions that occurred in the millions. His blanket denial of the existence of the "$10 million account" now stands as a record of just that, a denial of the truth.

Are you waiting for more people to blow the whistle? Coming out is the best "defense" against people trying to find "dirt" on you. Once facts are exposed, they lose their power over you, and your life will not be ruled by fear and paranoia anymore.

(4) Your path becomes clear.

By extension of the second item, it will become clear what you will do next. For most in the LGBT community who have made this decision to come out, it is liberating not to be weighed down by societal expectations - should marry by this age, should have kids by now, etc. - and the future becomes something exciting, because truly, the possibilites will seem endless as to what "the next step" will be.

This is where it diverges for Corona, though: when he comes out, it should become clear to him that his duty, as a public official, is to be accountable to all of us. He is imbued with great powers, so great that he can thwart a government's attempt to stem the tide of corruption that has long plagued our political life that we accept it as a given already.

He may have gotten his post because of GMA, but it was not her post to give: the power of that post emanates from all of us, citizens in a democratic country. It is we who desire for justice and truth to be served, not the capricious desires of a former President who is so drunk with power that she refuses to give up political privilege, even clinging on to a "lower post" just so her ego can be assuaged and her anomalous dealings kept hidden from scrutiny.

I would like to share this quote from one of my favorite writers, Deb Price. What she said about being in the closet was in reference to the LGBT's struggle, but it also aptly describes what Corona's situation is like now.

"One of the great American myths is that the closet is an uncomfortable but safe place. In reality, it is an exceedingly dangerous place that can feel comfortable simply because it is familiar."

And, might I add, it feels comfortable because it lulls you into believing that you do not have to be honest to yourself and accountable to others.

As Harvey Milk once said, coming out is a duty. Heed his call, Corona.

Come out, come out.

Motherhood Is A Privilege

Three decades later, I understand my mom better.

This past week, two news items seemed to underscore the truth of this post's title.

The first one was a video that has gone viral, of what turned out to be a Malaysian mom beating up her baby - why would these people agree to have themselves recorded?!? - to the outrage of netizens here (many of whom mistakenly thought it was a Filipino mom). The authorities there clarified that this happened months ago and that the said mom has long been incarcerated and serving her jail term.

The second one was a news item of a mom in her early 20's, who shook her baby to death, all because the baby "distracted" her from her Farmville game.

If there was some kind of licensure for motherhood, they would have been irrevocably revoked for these two examples.

All over the world, fertility clinics are booked solid with women who truly define the term expectant moms, because they are really expecting to be able to bear a child after costly treatments and procedures and investing so much time and effort into experiencing the joy of motherhood.

I've seen countless interviews of moms here with upwards of 10 children, who say that the more "blessings" they have, the more possibility there is of one or two of them being some kind of Manny Pacquiao who will turn the family fortune - such as it is - around and be the "answer from heaven" financially.

Some women will remain celibate - a portion by choice, but a portion are those who believe in religion doctrine that says they cannot have children without a husband, and will never experience motherhood.

And I know of some women who are adamantly against motherhood - not in the sense that they want to deny the privilege to others, but in the sense that they refuse to be defined by it in their own lives, and refuse to accept how societal norms insist that they are somehow "incomplete" without children, who know that they are not exactly "maternal material" and have fulfilling lives nonetheless.

Then there are the men - I think we all know who these are - who insist that women are nothing more than baby making machines, and a woman who doesn't do her "duty" is somehow thwarting some cosmic/divine purpose and is "sinning".

All these have given me the perspective that motherhood truly is a privilege.

Those who have it sometimes waste it, use it selfishly, or seem to think so little of it.

Those who can't have it are sometimes the best candidates for it, but are unable to do so.

Those who don't want it are sometimes the ones most capable of having the resources to provide the best environmental support for it.

And on this day, Mother's Day, I dedicate this post to those who have been fortunate enough to experience a mother's love, whether from our family of origin or our family of choice. We, who have experienced how a mother would sacrifice all to give to her children; who knows that a mother will be the last one to fall asleep when we are sick; we, who suffered through corporal punishment, who later realized it was because a mother could not bear to leave this world without imparting what she knows to be right or wrong and wanting us to always remember it; we, who felt our mom being the biggest cheerleader for all our personal triumphs and our counselor when we needed someone to get us through a rough spot.

To those of us who have experienced a mother's love, and are still experiencing it, we are privileged.

It doesn't happen for everyone, despite what Hallmark may want us to believe. I know well enough about the world to know that sometimes, being a mother or having one doesn't mean a bed of roses; there are mothers who actually do more harm than good.

Appreciate mothers while they are alive, because many of us do not have that same privilege already. My heart goes out to them, who long to confide in their mothers but cannot do so anymore. But they should still feel privileged, because they knew of a mother's love in this lifetime.

And to my mom, from whom I derive my (some would call very strong) sense of right and wrong, who taught me to think for myself, for reluctantly giving me my independence and always being open to welcoming me back in her arms, I am privileged to have you as my mother.

Happy Mother's Day to you and to all mothers who viewed motherhood as a privilege, because our lives were enriched because of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

More Casualties Of (Gym) Etiquette

If you're just joining us, this is the continuation of delightful habits - yes, it is used sarcastically, in case you didn't get it the first time - I have observed from people who frequent fitness centers. While many gym goers are respectful of other people who share the same paid space and facilities and act accordingly, there is a segment of the population that feels differently - these posts are about the latter group.

(See http://theguywithablog.blogspot.com/2012/04/death-of-gym-etiquette.html for the first part.)

And now, on to the next items in our list of (ill) manners.

6. The Place Savers

Regular gym goers know the type: they're the ones who have a "hallowed" spot, either in particular classes, or in using the treadmill that's closest to the window. These clients seem to act like they "own" a piece of fitness real estate (did they have a separate bill entry for this in their membership fee? How ever will their accountants...well, account for this in their tax returns?) and that any intrusion (read: people who got to their usual spot first) are given such a staring down that if looks could kill, the "usurper" would have suffered more bruises and would have been more bloodied than a Mixed Martial Arts contender.

(Courtesy of myspace.com)

In case it wasn't clear, the gym is a free space: that means no holdsies, no reservations, no absurd rationalizations. It is strictly First Come, First Served. Just like any line in life - or at least those who honor lines, like myself, like to think so.

Do not get "angry" if someone is standing on your favorite spot. Di mo yan pag mamay-ari, di tulad ng inaakala mo. (You don't own the spot, even if you think otherwise.)

Do not hurl invectives at the person who got to the stair climber 5 minutes before you did, because the machine only says "Property of ABC Gym", it does not say "Step out whenever _______________ is present, this machine is all his/hers!!!"

Above all, do not make a lame attempt to justify your insistence on a particular machine or spot by saying something along the lines of "EVERYONE knows I stay on this machine/spot always!"

This is not high school. This is the real world - and not an MTV produced TV show.

7. The Pick-Uppers

Colloquially referred to as a pickup joint that's better than a bar because you see what people look like in bright lights and hear how they grunt as a preview to, er, horizontal delights, the gym is usually thought of as a place to "score" in terms of sex/dating.

I'm not a prude, let me state that clearly, and that's the reason I "get" it. People who go to the gym have to have some form of vanity in their genetic make-up, and it's only natural that they also seek this same desirability in potential dates or lays. Add to the fact that sexual attraction is perfectly natural and a basic part of what makes us "us" as humans, and I completely understand why "hookups" have become almost synonymous with gym culture.

(Courtesy of mindcafe.org)

But, for the love of all things, could you take your "dance" outside of the gym? Once you've established your interest in each other, please do not act like you are in a badly directed pornography flick, tossing off sickening one-liners as a come-on to your potential "score". And I say this to both clients of the heterosexual and homosexual variations: Don't shit where you work (out). (Again, I understand there are "gyms" where actual intercourse takes place with the hooded consent of the management. I'm not talking about those establishments, which aren't really "legit" fitness centers to begin with.)

A friend told me of such an encounter between two members of the human species elite genus: fashion models who cannot gain weight even if you force fed them a hunderd years, who "work out" to gain weight as opposed to everyone else trying to take it off.

The female was constantly doing her bicep curls from a seated and bent over position, the better to enlarge her breasts and cleavage - as I mentioned, she is stick thin so she needed all the help in "magnifying" her assets. The male model, who typically had "chicken legs" (overly developed upper body with a serious deficiency from the waist down), kept posing his guns and chest, also for purposes of "mating".

Both unfortunately and fortunately, my friend was in the middle of their "courtship", seeing them exchange their glances of longing and desire, and (like me if I were in her place) was rolling her eyes internally.

It all came to a head when the female took the direct approach, went up to her male counterpart, and asked, in full bravado: "Are you trying to seduct me?"

Someone please call Webster Dictionary. We've been saying it wrong all these years.

8. The Clique Formers

The gym is a social space, so it's no surprise that small sets of people, clumping in groups based on affinity or interest are formed. It is pretty much the same everywhere else, except that the ones in the gyms tend to have more, uh, passionate expressions of their loyalty to their cliques.

(Courtesy of ghow.info)

If you've seen the movie series of Step Up, you'll know what it boils down to: a dance-off. But not a formal one; instead, nag papabonggahan sila (they try to outdo each other) in class. It starts out with someone from the other group hearing that Ms. Thing said you look fat, so you have to retaliate by saying "your level of fat makes me look like Paris Hilton!" Pretty soon, we have two sides calling each other every name in the hog-raising handbook, culminating in a show of "talent" on the group exercise floor.

I pity the bystanders in this affair, who only went to the gym to get their daily dose of endorphin rush, and burn a few calories, who did not know that today would be the day when they walked into the middle of a television drama episode of "Gym Days Of Our Lives".

Hair pulling, spitting, chair throwing, hissing and spewing...I've seen these happen before my very eyes.

And those are the antics of the male population.

9. The "Loyalists"

In the course of work that is physically draining, it is inevitable that teachers of group exercise classes will have to endure injuries, or just have a vacation in order to recuperate both body and mind. In those instances, they are forced to call in a substitute to cover for them while they are on leave from teaching their regular classes.

(Courtesy of jwsokol.com)

You should hear what "fans" of the original teacher say once they see it isn't who they expected standing in front of the class: they can be vicious.

"Is this your first day on the job?" is an entry-level insult.

I have seen substitute teachers who have had to stop teaching midway because they had to rush to the bathroom to let out a good cry from the verbal abuse they had to endure. Some teachers have had to withstand being called names, being cursed at the way unsavory characters would give them, and being looked down upon and called a "waste of time, I went all the way here...for you?!?"

(This is the reason why teachers have to announce beforehand that they will be absent for certain days and why the gym has to inform the clients well ahead of time so that class schedules can proceed as smoothly as possible without jarring the experience of clients, and while we as teachers are grateful for their loyalty, we also feel badly for those who have to cover our classes. They certainly expect better treatment as they can choose to be elsehwere doing something much more pleasant than fielding death threats.)

True story: I had barely a year teaching under my belt when I was tasked to cover for a very popular teacher. I took it as a challenge because I wanted to see if I would be well received, and was very open to criticisms, in order to better myself in the profession I have chosen.

A co-teacher who found out where I was teaching and who I was covering for felt the need to see me personally, and gave me a tersely-said advice: "Whatever you do in that time slot, leave your pride at the door. You won't have any to speak of anyway by the time they're done with you."

She turned out to be right, and it was an eye-opener as to what kind of clients I had the possibility of facing in the future.

I was teaching a step class, and I saw the spaces beside me rather "vacant", so I asked the class to come closer to me, and in jest, assured them that I bathed before I came into class. They all looked at each other and said "Wala pa yung Mafia." (The Mafia hasn't arrived.)

Yes, it was that kind of client.

The "Mafia" turned out to be 4 "Ladies Who Lunch" types, in full make-up and jewelry hanging on them like ornaments on a holiday tree. The clear leader was the one who placed her step beside me on my right.

Did I say placed? I meant "dropped noisily while looking at me from head to toe".

As we were still warming up, I had the class go through some basic steps and a little preview of what was about to be taught ("rehearsal moves" in industry-speak). Already, I could see the pack leader smirking, hear her sigh audibly, and in less than 5 minutes, considered herself astute enough to size my teaching ability and class to render her "judgement".

She kicked her step towards my direction, which flew smack into the mirror beside me, she screamed "WALANG MAKAKAKUHA NYAN! PUT-NG I-A!" (Nobody will get your steps! Your mother is a whore!) and stood there beside me, trying to induce death by staring.

Everyone - including me - suddenly went in Slow-Mo Mode (slow motion): We had one foot on top of the step, one on the floor, mouths opened wide with the realization of what just happened, and thankfully I had enough presence of mind to remember that I was still conducting a class and told everyone "Alright, everyone, continue holding in this pattern while I show you the next variation."

Oh, Pack Leader wasn't done.

My indifference caused her to rage in a different direction: she then went up to the row of treadmills (which were filled up to the brim as it was a "primetime" slot for the gym, 6 PM), went up to an unsuspecting "puller" (the treadmill exerciser who raises the machine to the highest incline, locks her arm in front and starts "walking" as if being dragged in front) who happened to be at the corner, then Pack Leader proceeds to yank off the girl from the treadmill (if memory serves, she had long, beautiful black hair), who was more stunned than hurt from the shock of her being "ejected" forcibly from the treadmill, all the while Pack Leader kept screaming, "AKO NA DIYAN!!!" (It's now my turn!!!)

Loyalty can take you to some dark places.

10. The Mirror Lover

Initially, I pegged this as a men-only affliction, when those with ripped bodies - thank you, steroids! - like to face any reflective surface, lift off their shirts or tank tops to reveal to one and all their ripped six-pack, then posing for a forced audience while simultaneously saying "I'm still a little fat, I need to work out more."

Conceited much?

(Courtesy of psychcentral.com)

Lately, however, even the ladies seem to enjoy their unabashed self-love they abuse on the mirror: lifting their breasts up to seem perkier, claiming to their friends -loudly - that they still need to lose three inches from a waist that measures 20, and pouting their lips endlessly as if they are applying to be on those ads for the "Call Me If You're Lonely" hotlines.

While we're on the subject, I wish the ladies would apply less makeup, perfumes and whatnot before they workout. It would be better if they could wear none at all, as the powders block facial pores, which have to be open to sweat naturally during a workout, the body's defense and response against too much heat induced by exercise. Some people also cannot stand certain scents of perfumes, which can lead to an unpleasant experience for them, and may trigger asthma attacks in some who are sensitive.

One of them actually came up to me, in her skimpy bra top. This girl has won fitness and bikini contests, and because she had just come from the USA, she felt she had transformed into a morbidly obese person, and while still in her bra top, complained "I was so EVIL in the States! I had corn dogs, fries, chips and soda! I am SOOOOOOOOOO fat!!! I hate myself!"

I could not see where she had gained this so-called weight, even if she did ingest the things she said she did, her body had been morphed into such an increased metabolic state that she was burning calories just by standing and breathing.

So I told her honestly: "You don't look like you gained an ounce at all. In this current state, standing in front of me, you could pose for a magazine cover and be asked for your diet secrets."

She then feigned incredulity. "OH MY GOD!!! Are you blind?!? Can't you see that I am, like, the most hideously obese person on the planet?!?"

I sized up her waistline (probably a "perfect" 24), her bosoms bouncing merrily in her taut bra top, with an abdominal area that would make Heidi Klum weep, then stated nonchalantly: "If you're so hideously fat, why are you running around in full view of all these mall goers in a bra top, then?"

That stopped her cold. Talk about false humility, and bad manners.

11. The Spatially Challenged

I seem to attract this special subspecies of ill-mannered clients, which I consider to be the rudest of all the etiquette offenders on this list.

They are marked and characterized by:

(a) a seeming incapacity for remembering that a class is ongoing, even if the schedule is clearly posted at the entrance to the group exercise room;

(b) possibly irreversible deafness, as the loud music does not cue these creatures that "there must be something going on here";

(c) possibly irreversible blindness, as they are oblivious to the number of bodies moving in unison, to the instructions of an exercise leader standing in front of the room or on the stage;

(d) and due to the foregoing conditions, they proceed to go on stage or the front of the room - WHILE the teacher is onstage as well - to cross to the other side of the room to get a mat;

(e) and who suddenly regain their hearing and sight, reacting to the catcalls of the clients who boo and make comments loudly at the audacity of the said creature to show such blatant ill manners in front of the entire class;

(f) and trapped in an embarrassing situation of his or her own making, proceeds to do the logical thing: turns his/her nose up in the air, claiming some form of moral superiority in the face of public ridicule, gets BACK on stage to cross back to where s/he came from with the mat, making a facial expression to indicate "I haven't done anything I should be ashamed of!" and proceed with feeling smug that they are "correct".

I have experienced this at least 5 times in my years of teaching. In one instance, the shamed party had the temerity to lodge a complaint that she had never been so humiliated in her life, and that she worked for the Solicitor General's office, making an implied threat that she would file charges for the episode where the clients made fun of her disrespectful behavior, to the class, teacher and the clients. She even made use of the letterhead of the Office of the Solicitor General in her letter threatening legal action, implying that she had the "blessing" of the head of the government agency (and making the gym manager practically pee in her skirt). I should've hauled her ass to the Ombudsman and made a formal complaint about inappropriate use of office equipment and misrepresentation.

I get not wanting to apologize for something that cannot be taken back, but to imply - publicly - that they were "in the right" and that everyone else is wrong in their etiquette compass just reeks of what we experience in politics nowadays: those who have done grievous wrongs against our nation justify it by saying "I'm right! Besides, everyone's doing it!"

Sobrang kapal ng mga mukha. (The thickness of their hides knows no bounds.)

Who knew that the gym would be witness and party to so many lapses in judgement, manners and character? I suppose it comes with the territory: with all the attention and focus given to the physical aspects of one's body, some people utterly forget to develop the other, more meaningful parts of what makes them truly engaging: their ability to connect with others, a large part of which is dependent on how they treat others, the way they want to be treated themselves.

I have met some of the most wonderful, magnificent and lovely creatures I have had the pleasure of knowing fully and calling friends from the fitness world. It is unfortunate that, like most groups, there are bad seeds and bad apples, which give credence to the accusations of our world of being a shallow, vain and bordering-on-stupidity universe populated by dumb individuals who just happened to have won the genetic lottery.

When the truth hurts, it's time to ask why it does.

I'm A Homebody. Sue Me.

Funny how some ideas for a post come from the most unexpected of places.

An old acquaintance emailed me, and after the pleasantries, a mini-nostalgia trip, and the compliment of saying she enjoyed reading my blogposts, she abruptly applied the brakes in mid-sentence, when she said "I didn't think you would like blogging on many places, things to do and sites to visit, your Facebook persona led me to think you were much more comfortable being a homebody."

(Courtesy of livingroomdesignidea.com)

It got me to thinking what I do post on my Wall.

Her observation is actually with merit, as I find that many of what I publicly post (for my "Friends" to see, anyway) are the recipes Arthur cooks up with me as "taste tester", and how we always enjoyed "stay-cations" long before it became some kind of online and marketing buzzword. (And, as usual, advertisers have found a way to co-opt it to their advantage, calling resort stays as "stay-cations". Reminds me of the time coffee was advertised as a "health drink".)

And admittedly, I always, always look forward to lying in our own bed after a lengthy stay elsewhere, and even though some places have sleeping arrangements that are worthy of gods, nothing can compare with the simple joy of placing your head in your slightly deformed pillow on a bed that "knows" your body contour intimately.

(Courtesy of interiorarcade.com)

Here, then, are some reasons why I find staying at home can often be a far superior experience than anything else offered outside of it, no matter how attractive and enticing.

(1) Gone With The Wind.

And by that, I mean the gassy fumes you exhume after a heavy meal, and just preceding a run to the bathroom to do the colloquial "No. 2". Home means never having to apologize for being human - part of which involves us farting, picking at various orifices for, uh, gunk, conveniently "forgetting" to fix your hair. In short, the actions that all of us do but would be mortified if it were exposed in a public setting, you would - pun intended - feel at home doing it, as these things are just as natural as breathing.

(2) Play A Love Game

I really, really loathe Public Displays of Affection, especially the torrid variety. As has often been noted, humans are the only creatures that seek privacy in lovemaking. (Exhibitionists and adult film stars, you are hereby excused from this generalization.) So when I see couples doing anything remotely resembling lovemaking in public, I get nauseous being forced to witness a peep show I don't recall paying for. (Believe me, the mental trauma is too hideously high a cost.)

Keep it in your pants, do it at home, don't perform in public.

(Courtesy of michaelnus.com)

Pwede?

(3) Far And Away

That's the one place our car won't be going. It will be parked, in a shaded, secured area (that is what we pay for), it will not be using up gas (Have you seen gas prices lately? Whoaa!!), we don't have to stress ourselves looking for a parking slot, we do not get tied up in gnarly traffic, and we won't deal with idiotic drivers who seem to think that motorcycles are meant to weave beside side mirrors, pedestrians who get down in the middle of the road and cross without looking, luxury cars (always an SUV) with policemen escorting them sans the wang-wang (but with blinkers and lights on, and the same cocky "law enforcers" angrily waving for people to get out of the way, or drivers who think texting and driving at the same time is a multi-tasking act that should be emulated by children.

We save gas, mileage is intact, zero chance of a car accident.

The car gets a vacation. I talked to him, he'd like more days like that.

(4) And The Living Is Easy

Home is a place where the vibe is naturally relaxed. By definition, it is your literal sanctuary from the stresses one encounters with any form of contact with other humans in the outside world. You can lay around, read a book (lately, my e-reader) from whatever position on the couch or bed (believe me, I've explored a number of them), and not really care if you can't find the remote, as the trashy reality show onscreen is numbing your neurons to the point of alcohol-induced stupor.

(5) Close To You

I've heard so many advice columnists saying how important it is to "jazz things up", take a night out on the town, make a grand romantic date where you have to wear clothes you'll only use twice in your lifetime at best, all in the service of keeping the spark alive in your relationship.

While those are certainly appreciated, I find that it is in the mundaneness of everyday life that you can actually gauge your compatibility the best: I can't tell you how many times washing the dishes has lead to an impromptu sing-along in our home, and why the appearance of a cockroach always elicits laughter from Arthur. (I find them hideously disgusting. Seriously. You want me to freak out in a way that would make Roseanne Barr blush? Just show me a cockroach.)

When there really isn't anything "exciting" to do or go to, is that person beside you the one you can stand being with? Or are you using these "social events" to mask the terrible truth that you would rather be anywhere else than trapped at home with the person you are supposed to be the most initmate with? (And I don't mean sex. Well, for the most part.)

(6) The Ugly Truth

You can talk freely about everything and everyone when you're at your own fort. The things that you have to edit saying because you still want to salvage a friendship, the nasty thought you keep to yourself about your co-worker. All of these are given free rein and room to come to life - and gossip about - when you're at home, whether you chat with a friend online, make a telebabad call (how 80's), or make snide remarks for you and your spouse to laugh about. A place to let your guard down, another reason why staying in is more fun.

In the Philippines, or anywhere else.

(7) Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These

A chance to catch up on much needed sleep, in surroundings and furniture that have been with you longer than you care to count. I have not checked the official statistics, but if our own lives are to be the gauge, I am confident that people are sleeping less and less these days, and the time you spend preparing for an "event" until you come back home could be better utilized in nocturnal pursuits.

I remember medical advice stating that we need 8 hours of sleep daily to function effectively. No wonder it's so hard to get things completely well done. I don't recall being able to sleep more than 8 hours straight in recent memory - until this Holy Week, and we were at home.

I slept close to that, or closer than I've ever been: 7 hours. Dang. That was a good snooze.

(8) I'm Sexy, And I Know It

You could go au naturelle, without the accompanying "what the hell gave her the right to strip here" stares in a sauna or nudist camp, or the possibility of an indecent conduct charge from a law officer. (Of course, those with kids have to be more prudent about this, as children have a knack for showing up where they're not wanted.)

And you'd have to keep the blinds closed.

Hands down, given a choice, I would prefer to stay home. Which is vastly different from a house. I thought I'd make that distinction patently clear: Just because your house is a picture perfect, Architectural Digest cover-worthy creation does not make it a home.

So, yes, I am a homebody. Who likes to go out occasionally. So when I rave about a place or anything else, it must be something worth leaving the comforts of home for.


Ehem.

When God Coached Manny

This latest turn of events in Manny Pacquiao's life, considered our country's greatest boxer, hardly seems surprising: As of late, he has been seen toting the Bible instead of his boxing gloves, photographed in Bible studies instead of a boxing gym, and mouthing off Bible verses instead of his opponents.

Ladies and gentlemen, Manny Pacquiao, the preacher.

(Photo courtesy of fighttime.net)

It is the latest in his reincarnations: from a struggling hick from his hometown, his almost - dare I use the pun? - godlike ascension into our national consciousness and international prominence was paved by way of the most barbaric of sports: punching a man senseless.

While most athletic endeavors base a participant's success by how fast they have traveled, how many baskets shot, or how many goals they have kicked, boxing is the only sport I know of that scores based on the punches on another person. (I have to include mixed martial arts, often referred to as MMA, in this category. Not so much "pro-wrestling" like the WWF, which seems to be the equivalent of soap opera for men swooning over other testosterone filled men.)

While most sports accept physical injuries as "collateral damage" in the service of the sport (strained shoulders from too many overhead shots, an ankle sprain from overuse in running a large football field), boxing is the only sport I know that has for its primary goal purposely inflicting injuries on another opponent, resulting in broken noses, lost teeth, massive blood loss, head injuries, and in later stages of a boxer's life, some have contracted dementia or Alzheimer's disease as a result of the beating received.

In turn, his success at this violent endeavor so widely celebrated (I see no difference between boxing and the gladiator games of yore, frenzied crowd cheering and betting while the bloodshed spectacle happens live) has been parlayed into business and entrepreneurial success, having many business endeavors run by both him and wife Jinkee.

He is also a one man advertising cash cow: With advertisements left and right, his earnings from these appearances in videos, photos, magazine spreads for international sports brands and local motorcycles, to name a few, are enough to last anyone 10 lifetimes and have a prosperous run on each of those lives. His "Midas touch" where ads are concerned has rubbed off on wife Jinkee and mom Dionesia, that they are "celebrities" in their own right, with their own product placements and target markets. I'm waiting for Manny's kids to go mano a mano with baby James (son of "Queen of All Media" Kris Aquino) in the tweens department anytime soon.

His latest endeavor: preaching the word of God.

God, apparently, told him to desist from the world that introduced him to all of us.

God, according to Manny, appeared to him in a dream, a divine vision, supposedly telling him: "You have done enough. You have made yourself famous but this is harmful." (Hmm. Even God acknowledged that the fame you attained was your own doing. Curious.)

(See: http://sports.inquirer.net/38473/manny-pacquiao-says-god-told-him-in-a-dream-to-quit-boxing)

It's interesting to note that he declined to give an actual number, of how many fights he has left in the ring, before he "retires" on account of the divine message he received.

It reminds me of embattled Chief Justice Renato Corona's fighting words, that he will answer all charges against him "in due time". When pressed for specifics, he suddenly becomes hard to interview.

A few comments, from someone who was raised in an environment that can be described as conservative, Christian (Protestant), Baptist and generally intolerant of other people's beliefs. These are based on what my formative years in school and church have informed me.

(1) Will you wage war against people who do not follow what you will preach? That is essentially what was taught to us, it's a war for souls, "we" (whoever speaks this line, apparently) have God on our side, everyone else who doesn't see it "our way" is evil/going to hell/the devil's minions. If yes, go to question 2. If no, skip 2 and go to 3.

(2) Will you choose your denomination now, for the record? As I understand from news reports, your current "faith revival" is largely due to a pastor of Protestant origin, conducting Bible studies with you on a regular basis. But the problem is you have identified yourself for so long as a Catholic; in fact, a priest who was asked about your closeness with this pastor said that the Catholic Church considers you their child despite this new relationship.

Let me tell you, nothing sparks more incense in the childhood sermons I have attended as a child and teen in our church services. Catholicism has always been despised in our school and church, and when asked point blank if Catholicism is wrong, they would answer by verses that pertain to "not having graven images before" God.

This means, Manny, you have to be clear: Are you now a Protestant, or still a Catholic? You cannot be both, as it appears now in the press, as there are fundamental differences that make your association in both sects an impossibility.

(3) Aren't you disobeying God by not giving a definite time frame of when to stop your boxing career? My understanding is that, when God says something, an order to do or not do a certain action, that is instantly executed. There's no "uh, let me think about it" scenario, lest you wish to be smote by the one who gave you the order. As one of your largest brand endorsements says for its tagline, Just Do It.

I hear you're still preparing for your next match with Bradley. This would be in direct violation of what God told you in your dream, wouldn't it? I mean, God even explained why, that it was harmful...so why still go on?

You can't be an effective "messenger of God" if you can't follow God's command to you personally. And you even publicly announced this, making us all aware of your disobedience.

You may want to rethink the career shift, given this shaky start.

(3-a) Does this also mean that God commanded you to beat up people for money, this whole time that you were boxing? Where I come from, people who do that are called by a different name.

(4) You have been quoted as saying, "When I speak, people listen." Your level of self awareness notwithstanding, you may want to ascertain the reasons why this is so. As I mentioned earlier, people are vicariously living their gladiator dreams through you, you get to beat up a person without the threat of a lawsuit but instead you are rewarded billions in pesos. (Is it in dollars already at this point?)

You may, again, want to think this through: Your first run in politics proved that your fame in boxing does not necessarily translate into political gold, you were beaten by Rep. Darlene Custodio.

Similarly, just because you now say you are a "changed man", does not mean you will be effective as "God's spokesperson". You claim to have a direct message from God, but you disobey God at the first instance of your test - you are still pushing through with the Bradley fight.

Talk about mixed messages.

When Paris Hilton speaks, people also listen. And not for lofty reasons, or because she has something of substance to say or contribute. Other than "That's Hot".

(Photo courtesy of tarlani.com)

The problem with fame is that it deludes people into thinking that they can be more than what they really are. You see this phenomenon all the time - an actress who thinks that her fame gives her license to start a singing career, even though she has a voice that would make all species extinct. Or a career executive thinking she could be the top dog, not knowing that when people mention her name - and they mention it constantly - it is with derision and contempt for her lack of work ethic.

Manny, your current announcement reminds me of that famous Susan B. Anthony quote, as to why she distrusts those people who claim to know God so well. (Have your people look it up for you.) This seems more to me like an attempt to have the basbas ng Diyos (blessing from God), to make it seem like a divinely inspired and guided direction.

One thing I also learned from my religious upbringing is that, at the end of the day, it is you, and you alone, that will decide what to do next. (Free will is a major theological - and moral and ethical - discussion. Which reminds me, must get Sam Harris' book.)

In a country that prizes religiosity and piety - on the surface, where it really counts in Filipino culture - your latest public relations attempt may dazzle many.

But I have no doubt of one thing.

Your will be done.

The Irony Of Connectivity

Taking the elevator down to our building lobby, with about 7 people crammed into a small box just a little roomier than an extra large coffin - now there's a jinx-laden image - I noticed one unmistakable fact.

Everyone was hunched and huddled over their Blackberry, iPhone and Samsung Note.

You could argue that this was an effect of violation of personal space - that having this much in-your-face contact in such a confined space readily lent into this behavior, looking elsewhere but at another stranger's face - but these people were already busy "connecting" with "other people" before they got on the elevator.

It got me to thinking about how ironic a situation we have right now.

More than ever, we stay "connected" - social media, push emails, phone alerts, we've accepted "tweeting" as a verb. But I cannot escape the fact that these advances and innovations in communications have succeeded largely in making us avoid face to face, actual human contact altogether.

Prior to my elevator ride, I was heading out the door when a phone call came and I picked it up, and to my utter surprise, I was talking to no one.

Because a recorded message played as soon as I said "hello".

"Hi, this is PLDT. We want to inform you, as a loyal subscriber, of our new promotions..."

I hung up.

Will we be eliminating human relations services in the near future? I never thought that the scene from futuristic movies would be playing out before my very eyes - or ears - right now: Human "surrogates" taking the place of actual human voices and live reactions.

I can see the advantage of this phenomenon from a business cost and overhead perspective: it will obviously save up on having to undergo a hiring process, having to orient new employees, worrying about benefits of those newly hired as well as their salaries, space considerations in the workplace, zero possibility of complaints from dissatisfied "team members", and so much more.

But what is the cost in terms of what this is doing to relating to each other on a level that requires us to know each other, even if for a mere blink in time?

You see, when I talk to an operator, they get to understand why I am frustrated on a particular service that their company is not living up to despite their promise. When I tell a waiter or manager in person that their food was impeccable and I see their relief and even happiness at receiving praise, it confirms that everyone needs others to validate their work.

I dread the day when actual human conversations and relations will be altogether, summarily replaced with cost efficient methods, machines and automations.

Have we forgotten the potency of what a singular human act can do? Are we on the way there?

(Photo courtesy of flickr.com)

Now I have to find my beloved for a hug.

Learning Ethics From A Raffle Ticket

Thanks to my mom, who has declared me a "luck magnet" where raffles are concerned, I do have to confess a more-than-usual interest in reading the rules and regulations of the raffle contests I have taken part of - yes, I'm one of "those" who actually reads the fine print.

Mainly because I want to win, to use local parlance, na walang sabit. (With no hitches.)

The part that always caught my fancy as a child was the perennial provision that says: Relatives of employees of XXX Company, up to the second degree of affinity or consanguinity, are prohibited from joining the contest. I didn't know those words at that age, so I would end up always looking in a dictionary for what they meant.

Affinity is defined as a "relationship by marriage, or by ties other than blood."

Consanguinity is defined as a "relationship by descent from a common ancestor; kinship."

(Definitions provided by http://dictionary.reference.com/)

I remember asking my mom about it when I accompanied (read: forced to carry the grocery bags) her to Cherry Foodarama, back then it seemed like a "hit supermarket", located at Shaw Boulevard, which still stands to this day. She knew I would ask more incessantly, as most children do, so she gave a terse, concise answer: para walang duda ang pagkapanalo mo ng raffle. (So no one would doubt you as the winner of the raffle.)

I would understand this later on, and strangely, it would be part and parcel of what formed my personal conduct.

From an ethical point of view, it certainly makes sense: A customer who wins should be drawn out randomly and should have won it fairly, using only the laws of probability. There can be no issues concerning tampering, as this would void the raffle results. Human mistakes should also not figure in, and more specifically, human intervention must not be a factor in deciding a winner. Which leads nicely into the provision about affinity and consanguinity.

Employees of a company would be privy to many data and facts that outsiders/customers would normally not be cognizant about. How many tickets are issued, what the raffle ticket serial numbers are and where were these particular numbers assigned/delivered to, how many tickets were actually returned to the company, etc. Knowledge of any one of these factors, or a combination of two or more of them, would be considered "insider information", and anyone who has them would have an advantage in trying to thwart the laws of probability.

Again, it leads nicely to the question of "who would gain from the insider information", which we have already identified as the employees of the company. Therefore, it is imperative and essential that in order to prevent any doubt as to the raffle winner results, employees are barred from entering the contest. The "affinity/consanguinity" provision (I'll call it the ACP Provision from here on out) also recognizes the possibility that employees could also ask relatives to "join the raffle" and then manipulate results in such a way that it is their relatives that end up "winning", colloquially called "kakontsaba" (working in collusion) and they can just split the spoils of war, or in this case, the raffle prize/s, into a specified arrangement later on.

I have never seen the ACP Provision stricken out, except for informal raffles in events like college reunions, which are really more of a fun activity than something open to the public, which needs to be regulated by a government agency. But let me share a true story relayed to me by a friend who recently attended her college reunion, in order for us to appreciate this provision further.

They held their reunion in a huge hotel, and after the usual pleasantries were exchanged - including snarky comments of how fat/bald/old they have all become - there were two highlights that everyone was looking forward to: the hotel's celebrated cuisine (my friend commented "I've had better...it's not bad, but its reputation led me to expect much more") and the raffle at the end of their meal.

The chosen emcee for the night was not a surprise: she was an outspoken student leader back in the day who practiced "social friendliness" long before Facebook was even a twinkle in Mark Zuckerberg's eyes. She was announcing the winners of the raffle (numbers announced were based on their meal/admission tickets) and as usual, the "top" prizes were the ones eagerly awaited for.

That list included an all-expense paid trip for two to Hong Kong/Macau, an expensive watch, and an overnight stay at a local hotel.

The emcee herself won the trip, while her boyfriend won the expensive watch.

And the emcee, owing to her sociability factor, was part of the planning committee that organized the reunion.

My friend described the reaction of the audience: It became painfully obvious that the ones vigorously clapping and cheering were the emcee and her boyfriend, there was only a smattering of polite, weak applause, people had their eyes bulging out, looking at each other. There was palpable whispering, and the general consensus was: Ano yan, linuto? (What was that, a rigged event?)

The party went on, and my friend said that she was sure the "winning couple" could feel the weight of people's stares and thoughts on their "winnings", and they were very good actors for not letting on.

Questions of credibility and ethical behavior were invariably raised because of, let's describe it as "interesting" results. I do not doubt that it is statistically possible for both of them to have won, but the probability that they would both win the top prizes is very, very, very small, which explains why everyone was straining incredulity at the results. A factor that mattered for them was that the emcee was one of the organizers of the reunion, and would have a hand in the preparation and logistics of the event.

Raffle ticket pa lang yan, ha. Ang dami nang tanong at haka haka. (And that's only a raffle ticket, which raised so much questions and speculations.)

My question then, is: Why do we demand so little accountability, transparency and propriety from our public officials? Why do we subject them to a much lower standard of ethical conduct? Are we saying, as a society, that we care more for who wins in a supermarket raffle than testing the credibility and fitness of the Chief Justice of our judicial system, or the government head of the agency that oversees gaming in this country?

(Photo courtesy of asiancorrespondent.com)

(Photo courtesy of globalnation.inquirer.net)

Why are we misplacing where our ethical concerns should matter more?

Why should public officials - who are public servants paid with public money - be "proven beyond reasonable doubt" if they have done something unethical, whereas the "lowly" raffle ticket has regulations in place that would seem to suggest it values credibility and ethics much more? That companies who run raffle contests are being too careful, too conservative, para hindi mabahiran ng duda ang resulta ng kanilang mga pa-raffle? (So that raffle results will not be tainted with any doubt?) They even have provisions about how the DTI (Department of Trade and Industry) will receive any complaints, if there are any.

In contrast, public officials who are under investigation do not go on leave while it is going on, they can even manage to prevent co-workers from testifying in an investigation.

Is this what's become of us where ethics are concerned?

In hindsight, it wasn't strange why what I learned from the raffle ticket became part of my personal code of conduct.

And I didn't need to go to law school to learn its lessons.

Why Trinkets Unease Me

As a Filipino-Chinese, I am often asked how I celebrate the Chinese New Year. The only response I have given a few years running now is "Uhm...I don't."

With the impending approach of the said holiday this 2012, I was suddenly in a nostalgic state and tried to remember what transpired every time the Chinese New Year would "commence".

The presence of tikoy was a must, drenched in egg yolk and fried to a crisp. Incense sticks to be lighted and prayed over with incantations I still have no clue about. Mahjong for those so inclined - although my mom strictly forbade us kids from engaging in it as it fell under the general heading of "gambling/game of chance", which she saw no differently from casino games. There would be a "grand game" of "Roll The Dice" - with prizes that were not cheap: I remember there were roundtrips to Europe or Hong Kong and a complete appliance set (refrigerator, oven/gas range, etc.) as top prizes. And the red bags (ang pao/hong pao, depending on whether you used Fookien or Mandarin) filled with money - yes!


Given these activities, you would think that I would at least have a positive experience about it. But looking back, the "traditional" part always left a sickening feeling right smack in my gut. And it's only now, with the advantage of a rear mirror view, that I can articulate why.

We would be "required" to place various trinkets, beads and what-not at strategic places in the house (determined by feng-shui principles) . There would be a certain number of fruits to be put on display, ostensibly for prosperity. There would be items or activities that would be forbidden because they brought "bad luck" and would cause money to "slip away".

(Photo courtesy of 1800sunstar.com)

(Photo courtesy of us.fotolia.com)


And the piece de resistance would be a consultation with a feng-shui master himself, who, using your "animal" according to the Chinese horoscope, would then use that "knowledge" together with "what" year it was, and voila!, he can supposedly predict how bad it will be for your business, or maybe a debilitating illness would strike someone in the family, or, as my aunts and uncles would always hope for, things would be on the up-and-up with the businesses they ran.

Recalling those times, it seemed to me that there would always be some kind of remedy whenever the master would "see" an unfortunate event on the horizon.

I remember that in a friend's house where there was such a Chinese New Year celebration, the master advised the mom of my friend to make a donation to the temple where they both went, and that he would be going weekly to their house to perform some "ritual" to cleanse her of the potential ill that he saw befalling her in his "vision".

One of my aunts would always have a golden fish/pig/dragon/whatever animal was needed as some kind of centerpiece in their living room, then miniature versions would abound around the house, in the car, where their office was, etc.

As I am now "removed" from that world (by choice), the unease that I felt, I realize, was something that can be summed up thus: someone was being conned.

The reason I say this is because, in all these situations, a cash transaction was transpiring, for services with methods and supposedly causal results that, charitably speaking, are dubious to a level of the highest order.

Even back in those days, I know these "masters" were being paid in hundreds of thousands of pesos. (Blame my sharp ears back then.) Added to that, you needed to cross their palms with even more money, to buy some statue, or fountain, or smiling cat, to "ensure" good fortune to flow your way.

This is nothing more than enriching oneself at the expense of others. And why I have always been "funny" about it is because the enrichment comes at a hefty price.

I'm not talking about the cash transaction itself, which is already too much to begin with. I'm talking about the way people are preyed upon - preyed on their hopes, dreams and fears.

Everyone wants to get ahead in this world. Everyone wants to be rich, if only for the sake of their family or children, that they never go hungry. No one wants to get a lingering disease. No one certainly wants to be dirt-poor and sick. Parents want to "be sure" that their daughter is marrying into a well-to-do clan and will not be physically abused.

It is these buttons that these "masters" are pressing, stoking smiles or terror as they "see" fit.

It is no different from a religion that tells you to cough up a "donation" to ensure that your father will be saved from a fiery after-life piece of real estate. Or "leaders" that tell you "for the glory of" (insert deity here), they need to build a building that's almost worth one billion pesos. and little schools in the hundreds of millions.

Greta Christina made this very point at a recent talk she gave: the danger with these "promises" and "predictions" is that none of them could be verified. It's all a matter of trust and faith, which almost always requires you to shut off your mental faculties and "just believe".

Believe that a red trinket in a very intricate pattern will make you a millionaire this year, who cares about working long and hard hours, waking up at 5AM to ensure your business runs smoothly, whipping employees into shape.

Believe that a significant monetary gift will ensure a smooth ride to a "pleasant after-life".

Believe that putting loads into a donation box will return to you tenfold, and not because it is the decent, humanitarian thing to do.

I know many people have a predilection to romanticize these rituals as "cultural heritage", saying things like "well, they're beautiful, and we're used to them, and it doesn't feel like (insert event here) if we don't do X."

Aaaah.

Culture. Something I see - our particular culture, that is - as a very large part of what keeps our country from progressing forward. People afraid to "rock the boat" because "it's the way things have always been done", a recipe for mental atrophy and stagnation, and even regression.

Before you write me off as some Gloomy Gus, let me just say that I take the good and just discard the bad: I certainly enjoy having tikoy this time of year. Even though my heart doesn't seem to think it's good for me.

Wait.