An Epic Failure

Almost three weeks after the hostage incident, and finding myself wide awake and mentally active despite the time, I decided to open my blog and write about it. Why now, you might ask, when everyone else has gotten tired of the whole thing? Why now when all we wish to do is to sweep everything under the rug and forget that it ever happened? It's partly because I'm just bored and partly because I just wanted those know-it-alls to quiet down before I write my part. It doesn't matter that only a handful of you will read this. But I do hope that from my twisted point of you, you'll realize that I have a point.

I watched the entire scene unfold while watching the evening news. I witnessed the drama, as you all have, the gore, the suspense, the grief, the horror and the shame. The entire thing was an epic failure. By the end of the event, I was as dumbfounded as everyone else. I even switched channels and everything was being aired in all major news channel all over the world, CNN, BBC, Al-Jazeera. Once again, the Philippines is on the map and for all the wrong reasons.

The following days dragged on like a melodramatic soap opera, everybody knew the plot and still kept watching for lack of a better thing to watch. The criticisms for the Philippine police force, the government, and ultimately, to all Filipinos mounted with a global disgust for this third world country known for its maids, tuberculosis and media killings. It was comparable to a surgical procedure without anaesthesia, large open wounds without anyone knowing how to stop the bleeding.

Amazingly, it was then that all forms of experts gave their opinions on how things should've been handled, how things could have been done differently. The blame game was on, everyone was pointing at everyone as the one responsible for the fiasco. It was a circus of monkeys and apes, everybody was suspect on who ate the last banana. The police chiefs, the hostage negotiators, the DILG people, the SWAT, the Manila mayor all raised their arms claiming they aren't bloodstained. Don't blame it on me, it wasn't my fault. And yet, there was this bullet ridden bus with bullet ridden dead bodies sprawled on its floor. Everyone wanted to be heroes if it ended in success but no one wanted to take the blame if it failed, which it did.

There was this psychologist who said, they should've changed the negotiator when the point came where he lost his credibility to the hostage-taker. I did not even think for a minute he, the psychologist, himself was credible enough to speak of matters beyond conventional matters. This is a crisis situation for heaven's sake with a desperate man and a rifle. This is something you don't see in your office everyday. It's more complicated than that. I admired Jackie Chan who said that it was impossible to predict what could've happened there. If you tried to negotiate longer, there would still be people who would say you should've stormed earlier. And if you tried to storm the bus earlier, there would still be people who would say you shoudl've negotiated longer. It could've gone either way.

What alarmed me, was that, yeah everything went from bad to worse and far worse in minutes, but do you really want to rub it in? Do you really have to go out there, screaming in social networks, commenting on blogs and articles about how stupid your people and its leaders are? Do you really have to join in lambasting the government and its police force for its inadequacies? Chances are, your government already knows it, so can you just zip it and pray? I'm not saying, we curtail our freedom of speech here. There are people who should be held liable for this mess, we all know that. But when the whole world criticizes your government, your country and your people, do you really have to pull a dagger and stab it on the back? There are alot of them out there, Filipinos taking sides with the Chinese and all them haters criticizing the Philippines side by side. Can this be more sad than it already is? When the son turns his back on his family and condemns them alongside strangers? To these people, an advice: When everyone else is against you, stick to your own. Be like the mafia, never disagree in front of other people, but feel free to argue within your own home. That's how Israel survives despite being surrounded by Arab countries. That's how the Godfather built his empire. With undying loyalty from their own people.

True, this crisis has revealed that the PNP is a big failure. I pray, we, as a people, the Filipino people, are not.

Ces-maryosep!

I watched Ces Drilon's primetime news show at ANC last night and marvelled at her complete ignorance and functional illiteracy about the plight of PTs here with the moratorium on Pinoy PTs taking the NPTE. It was amazing to see a news anchor impose her will on those being interviewed to the point she is sounding downright biased and not impartial as she should have been as a journalist. No wonder she never rose to the ranks of Karen Davila and Korina Sanchez or that she unwittingly travels to Sulu and gets kidnapped, this lady is nuts! Screws and bolts scattered all over the place. Hahahaha. I didn't see it coming though.

Anyway, there was mention of the PT thing on ANC and they invited some personalities which included people from DOLE, CHED, PRC and review centers. It was explained there that the government has no direct control over review centers as they are self-regulated. They cannot be under the Commission on Higher Education(CHED) as they are not degree giving bodies and therefore not under the jurisdiction of the said agency. Until then everything was fine and then Ces Drilon happened. Asking questions and making statements that are downright provoking but with an air of complete ignominy. To make it more painful, the president of one review center there answered with such a slow and weak response that made the interview almost unbearable. Are they both slow in the head? Drilon kept on rambling about how do you get your questions? Do you base it on books and which one? Are review centers still relevant? If the interviewee responds and the answer is something that doesn't appeal to Drilon's preference, she would shut the person up with "We are running out of time" or "We do not have time to delve into how you make your questions". Wow!

Are review centers still relevant? A nursing review owner was asked and he explained that the existence of review centers does not mean that schools do not educate their students well. However, there is a difference with having a theoretical knowledge about something and applying that knowledge to questions. Review centers, he said, teach students how to attack questions as test taking skills pertinent to licensure exams are not taught in schools. Of course, Drilon did not heed his explanation and casually moved on to the next questions.

Overall, the picture that was painted by Drilon was this. Allegations of cheating would hurt the chances of Pinoy healthcare professionals who want to work abroad and once more the review centers are to be blamed for this just like the June 2006 Nursing Licensure Exam. For review centers: You don't have to explain, just defend yourselves. For the government: Regulate them you assholes. They keep doing the same shit over and over again!

It truly is a grand exercise of ignorance by Drilon lambasting the licensure process but never having to undergo a licensure exam to get a job at ABS. Her credibility as a journalist is tarnished by her lack of research and feisty line of questioning that doesn't encourage meaningful conversation with her guests. Last night confirmed the adage: Light is faster than sound. That's why many people appear bright until you hear them speak. Thank you Ces Drilon for proving that statement true.

When a Month Becomes a Year

I went home after lunch from school yesterday and went to catch up on my sleep. I awoke refreshed and took to tweaking my computer when the call came. It was a land-line phone call and on the other end is a person from my agency. I found it weird that they call me at home but I realized I must've missed their call on my celphone. It must be something urgent for them to have call me directly at home. Alas, it was. I have received my ATT that morning and a few hours later news about NPTE test taking blew up in everybody's faces. PT graduates from India, Pakistan, Egypt and the Philippines are barred from taking the NPTE until the autumn of 2011 when the NPTE-YRLY exam will be available due to leakage of exam questions which is a serious offense to the FSBPT.

In my stunned disbelief, I posted an angry message on my Facebook wall which was followed by a series of text messages and Facebook messages and chats from friends and classmates here and abroad regarding the PT crisis we are facing. Soon after, everyone knew we were all in knee-deep shit and not knowing how to get out of it. I was scheduled for an embassy interview on the 22nd and my exam is next month and they're telling me I have to postpone everything for a year? What the hell was that? I paced around for awhile blowing smoke to try and discern what am I to do and finally decided on my most primal defense mechanism. I need a beer, a cold one. Ahhh lots of 'em. To make the long story short, I am soon sitting with Carmz, Dennis and Jini at SV chugging down beer.

The issue regarding St Louis was a very old issue that everyone thought had already died. FSBPT has thoroughly examined the evidences that they have gathered and they perhaps hadn't found sufficient evidence to prove that the review center was doling out recalled questions to students. If they had, they wouldn't have lost twice at the Department of Justice regarding the matter. Why then would they single out the four countries with special mention of the Philippines and not allow their graduates to take the exam? The answer is simple. There are fewer and fewer American students taking up PT due to the high cost of education and the rigid exam structure which has a high mortality rate. India, Pakistan, Egypt and the Philippines on the other hand send a lot of PTs in the US to work. It is a certainty that the Americans may be threatened that foreigners would take over the PT healthcare field in their own backyard. Why resurrect an already dead issue with the Filipino review centers? Filipinos have an edge over their counterparts because they speak English well and can hold high positions in PT clinics compared to other PTs who are doomed not to rise high in the corporate ladder because of language barrier, like Korean PTs.

It is not our fault that many Filipinos can pass the exam and few Americans can. Yeah, blame it on leakage of test questions for your convenience. But I'm pretty sure a lot of employers and hospitals would appeal this moratorium on taking the NPTE. They would not take this matte sitting down. There are a lot of them who prefer Pinoy PTs because we communicate well and are hardworking. Hopefully, FSBPT will see the fact that it is downright immoral and inhumane to punish everyone for the sins of a few. We will not give up our dreams and we will fight against this senseless bigotry and restore justice to our profession.

Getting Old, Anyone?

There are few subtle signs that your youth is slowly slipping away. It doesn't make you automatically old; it only means that your priorities in life are changing and that things that seem very important to you before seem less. Errr yes, that translates you you getting old (retracting my previous statement).

I have crossed the threshold of youth and maturity. Though I didn't cry (like Zaw and Tepi did when they heard What's Up by the 4 Non-blondes, the official I'm-25-and-nothing's-going-on-with-my-life-yet song), I felt a pang of sadness as I am indeed leaving a lot of fun things behind. I will be turning 26 on November, an age that makes me feel so old when I am with my students. Yet it is an age which my classmates at the center would regard as too young. An age in limbo where society doesn't necessarily dictate what you should do except perhaps hold a job. Some would suggest you have to settle down soon and some would suggest to have more stability first before jumping into marriage. Some would suggest you pursue your chosen profession and some would suggest you still have time to change directions if you want too. There are many more suggestions, I for one, don't even dare to pay even a little attention to. For now, I'm satisfied with my growth and how I am maturing (without sounding self-patronizing) rather gracefully.

I know I'm getting older because I can spend a Saturday night at home without any booze and yet not feel sorry for myself. It would have killed me when I was younger. I know I'm getting older because I don't mind jogging in a new subdivision quite a short distance from my house by myself. I know I'm getting older when I can listen to and talk about sex as casually as talking about the weather without blushing and getting wide-eyed. I'm getting older because I don't relate quite well with new singers and new songs and don't feel left out in the process as well. And perhaps, for now, I don't mind getting old at all. I've seen a lot of good and bad in my quarter-century of a lifetime. And I know, for sure, the best is yet to come.

Haters

Some religions would claim that we are but reincarnations of our former selves which explains why we have soul mates. This would also explain why we have people we are immediately comfortable with at first meeting, the so-called "kagaanan ng loob". It is believed that in our former life, these people (in their former lives) were our friends and companions. But I'm not writing about soul mates right now. Rather, I am writing about its antithesis, of which I don't know its name.

Every once in a while you get to encounter people who immediately get on your nerves without trying. Often these people aren't doing anything to you and most of the time they are even nice and meek. But still, there is something inside you that stirs, a storm of hatred and contempt which perfectly ruins your perfect day upon seeing them. It may sound mean, but I never fail to comment about them each time we have an encounter. Is it because they were our enemies on our past life? Or is it because they reflect what we are afraid of becoming ourselves?

Since people I hate upon sight are people you don't know, there would be no bearing writing about them. Instead, I'd like to write about celebrities who gets my irk. First on my list is Samuel L. Jackson. I automatically shut off the TV each time I see him. I don't know why but he is really irritating. Sarah Jessica Parker seems like a very nice lady but I hate her as well. And I cannot understand how they always praise her for her sense of style which errr... doesn't even look stylish. But among them, nobody takes the cake but Renee Zellweger. God how I hate her. I don't have to know why, I just do. Lolz

Hating people without any reason may seem mean to other people but I don't care. It is perfectly reasonable to hate them as I'm pretty sure there are others as well who hate me for no apparent reason as well.

Time Calls Me Home

It's been a long long time since I've written and even now I don't have any intention of writing. I am practically staring at the keyboard without anything to say, to write eventhough at times I have a million things to say. There is not single soul here where I can just blurt out anything to, without feeling guilty, misjudged or misunderstood. I have been here in Manila for a couple of months, and though I could get used to the big city lifestyle, God knows I want to go home.

The way I've been raised and the way I have handled myself with people really helps alot with my initial adjustment here. And I am streetsmart enough to distinguish the crooks from the innocent bystanders. I was overwhelmed though, walking one day through the busy, colorful streets of Quiapo, to see an ocean of faces, each going their own way, not noticing each other, as if everyone's existence seem non-existent at all. To see a lot of faceless people cramped in one place is rather sad. In a city of 10-million strong, everyone is a stranger. Everyone is alone. And that is sad.

I get-by day-to-day in a monotonous routine of going to school, meeting the same people who I will leave behind in a few months time. I miss home a lot. I miss that small town I left behind. The place may not be as exciting, the women not as exquisite and sophisticated. At least the place hasn't lost its heart. Not everyone there is waiting to pounce on the weak. People there have faces. Faces recognizable through unintroduced acquaintances. They may be nameless, but definitely not faceless. So here I am. Waiting. Waiting for time to take me home...

Poem XVI (From Verses of the Red Rock)

(To the victims of the Maguindanao massacre)

The earth awoke to a solemn morn
To hushed whispers of a looming cloud
Fear is tangible--it hovers like fog
Too cold and thick to swallow.
The roads are long and winding
And the journey seems neverending.
Shadows rise on the distance
Slowly, slowly darkness came.
The shot burned skin and shattered bones
Lying sprawled and bleeding,
The sun shown the stairway to oblivion
This final breath liberates the spirit
But eternally chains the burdened soul.


8:21pm 113009

Errrrr.......

I have, once more, almost forgotten the password to my own blog. 2 months have passed since i wrote anything. In those two months, the faculty has been decimated by half. We have been struggling to keep the College working. Since both of my remaining colleagues are holding administrative duties, I was given a teaching load large enough to wear me to the bones. The load was no joke. It more than twice the load I handled a few months back. That shouldn't have been much of a problem if I have mastered the topics by having taught them for a long time. Problem is, a lot of the subjects given to me are those I have practically never bothered to study in college then and those that require me to teach strucutre and discipline to students which, of course, wasn't me at all. I strive on, trying my best to study everything and prepare well. But then again, I am no superman. I cannot be efficient in delivering if I wasn't even given ample time to prepare well for my classes. In a way, I have become the monster I didn't want myself to be. I never believed in mediocrity when it comes to teaching. And yet these circumstances drive me towards that pole. The transformation isn't complete. I hope it will never come to this. It ends here.

Powetree

I ate an early dinner yesterday evening and crawled into my bed to get a very late siesta. I grabbed a small notebook from the shelf along the way to try to read myself to sleep. The notebook was rather familiar to me. It was a collection of poetry I wrote from years ago which I intend to (hopefully) publish in the future.

Reading through the poems I wrote, I felt a little sad. They were very powerful, intense and passionate--as I was then. I wrote with angst, with vengeance for trespasses both real and imagined. I wrote with the blind conviction of a fanatic, blood and tears pouring from pen into parchment. I wrote like a victim. I wrote like a god.

I don't know which one made me more sad--having to read the anxiety and the drama that goes along with puberty and channeled into dark poetry or having to read sad but beautiful poetry written by my own hands realizing I will never get close to writing them again. I remember it was so easy to write then. I would lie in bed, with a pen and whatsoever paper I can get my hands on--tissue, scratch, receipts--and write. The outcomes were not great all the time, but I think they're rather good. Now, each time I managed to find the time and be inspired to write about something, I break. The words don't come as easily anymore. It seems my hands no longer remember how to write, my mind to imagine and my soul to empathize. Is it because I grew up and left all the angst behind me? Is it because requitted love is not as inspiring as an unrequitted one? Is it because I finally got to realize that poetry as an art eventually becomes obsolete when work and personal responsibilities eventually take the spotlight in someone's life?

As I write now, I remember the poetry I wrote and their words reverberated in my core. I guess we all do need something to get us through the day. I wrote them to get through mine. I think, it was wrong to feel sad reading through them. Moreover, I should've been proud. For those brief years, at least, I was able to write like a victim. And I wrote like a god.

The Heat is On

As I predicted, the past two weeks had been very hectic for me. I can breathe a little easier for now, but that is just about it. I have so much to write about and so little time to do so. So I'll keep this post rather short.

Swamped with work, classes and make-up classes for two weeks, my body is just about to give up. Adding more to the stress, is the pressure of processing my papers as soon as possible to have myself recredentialed to another state. My first choice, of course, is Ohio so I can watch a live game by Lebron james and the Cleveland Cavaliers. But then, Lebron may be transferring to another team come 2010. I am now considering Pennsylvania as my other State. The main reason I chose that is because Tepi will be going there as well. So at least, if I have someone close to me with me, I won't feel as nervous and as stressed as I would be alone. For the record, I have never ever been completely independent my whole life and that would be a very big challenge for me. A year has already passed since I passed my Toefl and I believe once I have started processing my papers, I would have to take a leave off from work to study the stateboards. Were it still taken in Guam, I will have studied while working at the same time. But because of the leakage scandal and the test's transferrence to the mainland, the level of exam difficulty I believe was raised three notches higher. Woe is me.

Adding to the stress, is the possibility that the PT office will be virtually empty by the end of the first semester. Ms Aj, Ms Ronz, and Ms Sheila are closest as possible to having themselves interviewed. Tepi will follow soon after. Left lurking in the school corridors would be Raymund and yours truly. To add to that, it is increasingly difficult to find new faculty to replace them. Furthermore, the College is also planning to open an OT department to fill the soon-to-be incredibly state-of-the-art PT department at the hospital.

It makes me want to jump out the window from the pressure. And I know soon, either Zaw, Jenny, or Emz will draw first blood on that US license. Once, one of them has it, I believe that everything will snowball. I hope it's not too early to say that the predictions of former teachers like Doc Alekz that our batch is very lucky because by the time we graduate, the demand for PT in the US will rise again. For the time being, it seems so. I hope I can get there on time.

Ang Sa Facebook na Bala

This and next week would probably be two of my most hectic weeks for the entire semester. I have a lot to do, stuff to finish, books to read, practicals to schedule, schedules to reschedule and I am wearing out. I would've wanted to take solace in alcohol but I don't think it would be helpful at this time. I probably won't be able to get drunk for the next two weeks. Soooo sad.

I thought I was supposed to have a class right at this time but Ms AJ told me she would still be the lecturer, and so here I am, writing once more.

Since I am virtually stuck on Facebook, I want to rant about some things. I have about 1400+ friends on FB. Don't be alarmed. I am not that friendly anyway. I added people I don't know because of my Mafia Wars application. I placed them on a list called "Loser Mafia Friends" and I placed people I know on my "Real Frenz" list so I can chat up with them if I wanted to. If an FB friend post in his/her wall in a foreign language aside from English, I automatically hide him/her. Even real friends who post nonsense are automatically hidden. I also hide friends who post every few minutes to announce whatever bullstuff they are doing as if people are dying to take part in the blow-by-blow account of their lives. I don't delete them as friends but I hide them. Bwahaha.

One thing that also pisses me off and merits automatic inhibition from my wall feeds are friends who post about their love lives on FB. Don't get me wrong. Professing your love for your partner, spouse, fubu or whoever is perfectly okay as long as you don't do it on a regular basis. Posting "Sigh! I miss him so much", followed after an hour or two by "Love is...." followed by "Wishes to spend the day with him" sends a shiver up my scoliotic spine. WHO CARES ABOUT YOUR F*****G LOVELIFE OR YOUR NEED FOR ONE? You don't have to advertise your profession of love for whoever prick you are interested with because NOBODY cares except you. The prick is probably having an affair somewhere right now and never uses Facebook kay nasa Friendster stage pa lang xa. I mean why do you have to post everything? Why? Because it's your wall and you can do anything with it? That's right. As I also reserve my right to hide you and never hear from you again. We are still friends though, technically, but that's just about it.

Murphy's Law

Murphy's Law states that whatever bad might happen will. Today is an exemplary proof of that.

I woke up early and finished off my facebook duties playing all my applications, accepting friends and making comments. I ate breakfast and prepared my travelling bag. I was going to Bacolod to meet up with Dame for a nice and cozy weekend R and R. It was a rainy day so I wore a jacket and went straight to school. I had a short class at 12 lunchtime and my stockpile of testpapers are still in limbo awaiting checking. The bag was quite heavy, with Dame's hair spa containers, lotions and other preservatives. Plus, I bought a book along so I could study for Monday's class.

After class, I went straight to Biscocho Haus to buy some pasalubongs and to eat lunch there as well. The rain was starting to pour a little heavier and the smell of steaming hot dinuguan is too tantalizing to resist. Alas, they don't have rice anymore. They even ran out of puto. After I finished buying a box of biscocho, I decided to eat somewhere else. Fortunately, across the street was a small eatery serving bopiz, one of my favorite spicy foods ever. The food was divine and I felt better even after carrying my heavy travelling bag over one shoulder and the box of biscocho on the other hand.

Then, I remembered I had to get some money from the ATM machine so I took a detour towards SM Delgado. I went straight to BDO Valeria and waited in line. The line was relatively long so I was starting to get impatient. As my turn was nearing, the guy who was withdrawing kept for very long. I saw on the screen something written like "Please take your cash". Problem was, the screen never changed for about 10 minutes. The ATM hanged and crashed. I wasted my time waiting in line for nothing. Irked but helpless I crossed the street and went inside SM BDO. 2 ATM machines were offline, the other one can only process balance inquiries and the last one had people falling in line like fans wanting to see their dead idol in Rudy Fernandez's wake. This time, I'm starting to get impatient walking around for nothing, carrying a heavy bag and straining my shoulders. I strode towards BDO Quezon, hoping for a ray of light. The stupid contraption of a machine called ATM was once again offline. Cursing under my breath, I stomped towards Robinson's to get my money. The rain was pouring but it was humid and I was sweating. My armpits and my brows were sweating profusely like I had a workout. And as fate would have it, offline man ang depota nga ATM sa Robinson's! Argh!

I angrily texted Dame if it would be possible for her to withdraw from her ATM and I will just replace it when I come back and she said yes. I checked my watch and hurriedly commuted towards the pier. When I got off the jeepney, I saw people walking away from the pier and I happily grinned that I made it on time. Time check 1:45. Next trip is 2pm Weesam Express and 2:15pm OceanJet. I will make it! Hurray! My luck is finally changing!

Boom! I spoke to soon. The booking counter for OceanJet was swarmed with commuters. They were noisy, rowdy and wet from the rain. They looked like refugees from war. As I entered the crowd, I heard the terrible whispers of my fellow would-be passengers. Weesam Express announced at 10am that they will cancel all their trips from Iloilo to Bacolod for today. Apparently, their two boats need repairs. This explains why everyone is crowding at Ocean Jet. It's Friday and everybody wanted to kill to go home. I fell in line to get a ticket. The line is a short version of the Great Wall of China but wound like multiple letter Z's attached end to end to accomodate everyone. To make matters worse, it was raining. Hard. As I inched my way towards the counter, they announced that the 3:45 trip is already fully booked. Steam rose from my nostrils as I gritted my teeth in frustration. Soon after they announced they are giving out 5:15 pm tickets. Chance passengers only. WHAT? YUDIPOTA! GINAGO NA GID NA YA! I'm wetter than a pornstar's mons from falling in line in the pouring rain tas hambalon lang chance passenger ko? YUT imo na lang na! Some people approached me and told me to go to Dumangas and take a RO-RO with them. It was okay actually I'd be paying 250 pesos for the entire trip. Problem is I would arrive in the evening when I don't have a bus or a van to take me to Dame's hometown. that would be a double whammy.

Defeated and chilled, I decided to just go home. I tetxed Dame and she was very understanding about it thankfully. As I was walking away, I made a mental image of myself cursing the heavens and shouting "Bakit ako pa?" BAKIT AKO PAAAAA...... kag nadanlog ko. Mayo lang ke nakapanguyapot sa railings. Ay linte na pangabuhi ni ah. -.-

Licenxa

I almost jumped out of my chair in shock last night when I heard that only 2 out of the 6 board takers from school passed the PT licensure exams held during the weekend. It's a big blow to the morale of the institution and the college. It is a bigger blow to the PT faculty, including myself, because such result puts into question the competency of its mentors to educate. And although I have been teaching for less than a year and I haven't really handled this particular batch of boardtakers, still this does not spare me from the burden of having to bear the dismay of those on top. We only had a 33% passing rate when the national rate is about 40+%. That is dismal.

Right after the board exams, the takers confided to Ms Tep and Ms Ronz that the APK (Anatomy, Physiology and Kinesiology) part of the exam was a killer. APK used to be the easiest as most of the questions were recycled. I noticed that year after year the exam gets harder and harder to pass. Yes, when the demand for PTs abroad went from a surge to a standstill, the exams (including the one I took in 2006) were a bit easier. Now that the demand is on the rise again (thanks to the baby boomer generation), the exams tend to get a little bit harder each time. This does not spare the State Board Exams necessary to work in the US. I remember 3-4 years back a lot of people kept on passing the US exam on the first take. These days, if you pass the exam on the first take it's either you are indeed well prepared, smart or just damn lucky.

I had a lot of hopes for this batch of takers. I even told my colleagues at work that the least we can get is a 4 out of 6. I was even betting for a clean slate. However, this did not translate into reality. I am frustrated. Part of me wanted to console those who did not pass telling them in God's time we shall be colleagues as well. But a part of me is still in shock. A thousand people took the exam, 400+ passed. You only need 1 out that 400+ new licenses. How come you did not get it? The main reason is: YOU LOST FOCUS. The local board exam is overrated. It's just that from the academe, the PT student has already conditioned his mind that the exam is a terrible, extremely difficult test that it must be a gargantuan prize to pass it. It is NOT. If it were so hard, only 5 people out of a 100 should pass if that were the case. It's not luck and it is not God's will. God's will is for you to be prepared come exam time. He will not just wave his miraculous hand and make you pass if you did not prepare well or if you lost focus somewhere along the way even if you went to church everyday and lit candles for his glory.

For what it's worth though, a license is never a trophy for being a good and decent PT. There may be a lot out there who have good decision-making skills in the clinic who do not have a license. I, for one, have a license but I am not as confident in the clinic as I am in the platform of a classroom. What's the use of having a license then aside from the legalities and stuff? It makes you credible and statured in the field of PT. That's why we all aspire to have it.

For those who passed, kudos and goodluck in your career. For those who didn't, I will not give you a pat on the back and tell you it's okay because I know it's not. I will not tell you better luck next time because I don't believe in luck. I will not patronize and I will not pretend to understand how you feel because, honestly, I don't know. I will just let you be, let you rise from the ashes, build up momentum and take that elusive piece of plastic with your name and number on it. By then, I will shake you hand, congratulate you, patronize a little bit, and together, perhaps, we shall altogether reach for our American dreams.

Uniporme

It's been a terribly long time since I filled up my pages. I promised to revive this sorry excuse for a blog but unfortunately, since I don't have something worthwhile to talk about I decided to put it on hold again.

I'm screwed. I have a lot of things to do at hand in preparation for the compressed Midterms at school and yet I have to leave it all behind when I got to Bacolod on the weekend. Also, I can no longer roam freely around the campus. A new directive for the faculty to comply with is that we should wear a color-coded uniform for each day of the weak and that means I have to wear slacks. It should have been easy just to obey this new rule. Problem is, I hate wearing slacks and polo shirts. As for you who know me, I have always been the T-shirt and jeans kinda guy. So everytime I go to school, I am compelled to hide within the corners of my college office and only venture out into the wilderness if and only if it's utterly important. I have to decrease the chances of me meeting up with a superior and get reprimanded for my uniform. I can't even go to the canteen to have lunch lest I be confronted.

I certainly cannot understand the concept of me, the great Toto Dyud, wearing faculty uniform to "look" professional. That is pure bullstuff. As a teacher, I prepare well for my classes, even burning the midnight oil which I didn't do way back in college. I discuss well and with passion. There are many out there who wear their uniforms but suck at educating kids. They may look professional, but damn me they are tramps. There are many who are overly strict over matters that should not be of great concern like hounding students over the color of their hair, or ponytail, or missing pin or cufflinks. Trivial matters like that should not be too fussed over with. A simple comment to catch the student's attention is enough. Anyway, they are in college. They know what's right from wrong. You don't have to impose your will over them. I find some professors so pathetic they constantly report student activities to college heads. By constantly, I mean always. Like, don't they have anything more worthwhile to do with they bloody lives?

However, in a way, I feel sorry for them. Not only because they are losers who want to make young people miserable, but also because all their lives they followed the rules. They never broke them. They are these people whose lives are so patterned and predictable the only things that could break that mundanity is a stroke or a freak accident resulting in death. These are people who have nothing exciting to talk about their lives with their grandchildren only that they did very well in school. It's a sad thing really. Nothing worthwhile ever happened to their lives except that they went to school, graduated, worked, got married, had children, retired, and died.

Sooner or later, I will be forced to comply with the school policy lest I find myself out of work. But never fear, my adoring legion of admirers. I will still be the great Toto Dyud that you love and worship--- just a little more cultured, say, a little more "professional".

Octopus Man

For days now, I kept on seeing ads for the Discovery Channel documentary entitled "Octoman". I was actually intrigued by the documentary. Luckily enough, I managed to catch its premier tonight.

The Octopus-Man is a freakshow favorite here in the Philippines. He has seven limbs in total, politically incorrect as an octopus should have eight. I was surprised to learn he is an Ilonggo. Had he been a singer, an actor, an athlete, or a beauty queen, the media would probably have had his face plastered all over the frontnews praising how his talent or beauty has given "honor" to his country. Alas, beauty queen he is not. He is a freak of nature. He has had an unformed twin brother attached to him, hence the extra limbs. His only bet on newsworthiness is a short skit on features, Sagip Kapamilya, Wish Ko Lang, Maalaala mo Kaya or Kuya Kim's MatangLawin. If I were completely apathetic, I would call him hideous. The kind of ugly that will put Quasimodo to shame. I am not talking about his face (which is rather average), but his overall appearance is simply appalling.

As would have been expected, the only job he's been in is showbusiness--albeit not the red-carpet type. He is a carnival star, raking in his income by attracting fiesta goers to stare at his deformities. However, 10 years ago he decided to finally end his life with the moving carnival. He eloped with a magician's assistant, ran off to a far-off place somewhere in Panay island, and raised a daughter, who I find to be rather charming and pretty. Nobody knew where he went, not even the carnival people.

He was finally located by a researcher and was interviewed. At present, he is already suffering from quite a lot of ailments. To make the long stroy short, he was brought to Manila to be examined for his condition. Examination revealed him to have high blood pressure and so on and so fort. The hypertension and stomach ulcers were attributed to the extra appendages on his body. It was found out that his extra appendages were indeed a twin brother but he is parasitic by nature. Therefore, he shares the blood, nerves and nutrients of the Octoman.

After careful analysis, lab exams and all, it was revealed that he could be operated upon. What's more, the doctors are offering the operation for free. Octoman went home and discussed the proposal to his family. According to the doctors, he's got a good chance of success. Now here comes the anti-climactic part. THE FOOL DID NOT GET THE OPERATION! His reason was, God made me this way. I have accepted it and I will die this way. What the fuck was that all about? What a complete waste of airtime. What a complete waste of MY time! Damn, there are soooo many people who need operations everyday and they can't have it cause they don't have money. And here comes Octoman being offered a complicated operation for free to save his life and improve his quality of life and he fucking refuses it. Because God made him this way.

Yes, I think maybe you would think I am being severely and unwarrantedly blasphemous. But damn is he stupid! If I were an Octoman and I prayed to God to make me normal, he wouldn't snap his fingers or zap me to normalcy. That is too predictable. God works in mysterious ways and he only gives opportunities that would make Octoman "normal". The first one he gave was that magician assistant and their daughter. The next one would be this free operation by experts. Now, which one is more disrespectful to God, my ranting about how people just accept how things are because God made them that way or him turning his back on a perfectly humbling philanthropic experience that would have been a work of mercy for the doctors?

Instead of I getting inspired by that docu, it made me angry and feel a lot less sorry for him. Stupid people irritate me. Stupid people making God as an excuse for their cowardice or melodrama make me furious. And stupid people getting airtime make me livid. I got all of that tonight.

From your biggest fan

His name is always on the tabloids reeling in scandal and negative publicity. That homo. That pedo. That has-been of a popstar.

Today his name is once again on the papers. This time, they announce his tragic end. It is a rather sad ending for a King who was brought down to his knees by the humiliation of his bankruptcy and alleged pedophilia.

Till now, I think everyone, fan and critic alike, were secretly hoping and waiting for a true comeback from the self-professed King of Pop. They were waiting for him to electrify the stage by his performances, shatter the mic through his vocal prowess, and ultimately revive his genius. That day never came. It will not come at all.

Jacko is dead. And the world mourns for what was, what could've been and what should've been. After all, MJ was a music icon, a big one at that. He sold the most records ever behind Elvis and the Beatles. He made MTV a household name with Thriller. In the music arena, MJ was as near to a god as anyone could've imagined.

I am a big fan. I mourn his death more deeply than I mourned Francis M's. I was a secret dream of mine to be able to watch a live performance by Michael. It is a dream yet unfulfilled. However, there is a silver lining to his death. Had he died 20 years after, his name would've been buried in bad rep so deep not even Tom Hanks can brink back any integrity into it. His sudden death would drive people to listen to his music once again, same as what happened to Francis M's. Through this, his name will be forever etched in history and his music will be played for all eternity.

Godspeed Michael. Rest in Peace.

Pay It Forward

Two days ago, I happened to catch on a movie entitled Pay It Forward on HBO. It stars Haley whatsisname, the child star on Bruce Willis' The Sixth Sense who immortalized the lines "I can see dead people". With him is Helen Hunt, Jon Bon Jovi and the remarkable Kevin Spacey. I've always been smitten by the subtle and powerful performances of Kevin Spacey since I saw K-PAX. However, I am equally impressed by this Haley boy who gained my well-deserved respect after this movie.

Haley plays a 7th-grader raised in a broken home with a mom who's a recovering alcoholic and is seldom home. Spacey plays his school teacher who inspired him to develop a Pay It Forward principle. By virtue of this principle, a person is required to do one big and extraordinary good deed to three people. Those three people have to pay it forward meaning they also have to do good deeds to three other people each. It is a rather ambitious endeavor, relying purely on a person's goodwill. And as such, failure will ultimately be its end.

Pardon my apathy. In real lfe, something like this will never happen. Doing something great for someone you perhaps do not know at all may perhaps be noticed and lauded by society, but more often than not it will be forgotten, shaken off as a happenstance that won't happen again, or not recognized at all. As part of the Filipino culture, doing a great deed for someone requires him, by virtue of utang-na-loob or indebtedness, to pay you back in kind. Failure to do this will deem him an ingrate, a leech, someone who doesn't know how to look back from where he came from. If you are the doer of the great good deed to someone without asking for something in return just a wish that he also pay it forward to someone else, you will be considered a showoff, a fool, a politician in the making, a naive creep, or someone who attaches strings to everything. It is a hopeless scenario if you ask me.

Inspite of it all, however, there is nothing wrong in hoping. There is nothing wrong in having faith in people. There is nothing wrong in believing that people do apply their better nature. Naive as it may seem, sometimes we don't have to make things all that complicated. Only adult minds make things complicated. At the end of the day, we all have to contribute if we want to make this cruel world less cruel may it be in deeds and dreams that may seem miniscule compared to what rich philantropists do. It doesn't matter. As long as we have faith, we all have the potential to make life suck less to ourselves and to other people. Though this sunshine disposition is usually out of my league, today at least it is in.

....... ZZZzzZzZzzz....

I am reviving my blog. Nah, resurrecting it back from the tombs of Aku. This doesn't mean I now have the luxury of time to write. Nor does it mean my passion for writing or for any other literary pursuit has taken the front seat of the present. I am writing because I am compelled by time. Or, more accurately, the seeming lack of it.

No, I am not dying and I am not sick. I am simply getting old. I will soon be joining the throng of once-so-young-but-not-anymore yuppies tearfully singing along the 4 Non-Blondes What's Up. Nine short months have passed since passing my Toefl exam. Nothing happened. Nothing's happening. I don't think that being a teacher has helped me in my pursuit for that elusive American dream. Even now, I am losing the spark, the flame of what moved me to become a teacher in the first place. Gone is the almost berserker-like fervor of which I envisioned myself transforming and educating the younger generation. All that is left is the pressure of meeting deadlines and completing school duties.

I'm not even sure of when and where I lost the spark. Perhaps because it is with the indifference shown by the students. Or with their apparent lack of appreciation for your sacrifices. Maybe it's because I finally understand that I may not be able to become as magnificent as I have always thought I would be. Or maybe it's because I feel that my charisma alone will not change the mediocre minds of the many sheeps I tend to everyday. Or perhaps it comes with the hopelessness of having to look after sheeps with brainpower comparable to that of a microscopic amoeba.

Or maybe I am just getting old. It is human nature I believe. Few mentors maintain their level of enthusiasm for instruction throughout their lifetime which explains why only few of them get remembered. Little by little, you get dragged to the pits of mundanity. Until eventually, everything becomes routine. Now everything is routine.

I am old. I am bored. Nothing has happened. Nothing's happening. Pray, something will happen soon....

April Reign

I got so stuck on Facebook I almost forgot the password to my own blog. Haha. Well, I went home under a humid midmorning sun and wasn't really expecting rain. As soon as I got home, I rushed straight to the PC to play,of course, ate my lunch, and went for a quick siesta. Then suddenly I heard the crackling sound of whips from the sky. Rain fell so hard and so quickly, I rushed to turn off the aircon and the PC avoiding the possible risk of them imploding due to electrical surge or whatsoever. Lightning and thunder rolled with the heavy rain, totally unexpected on a summer midafternoon.

Little by little, the horrors in those documentaries by Al Gore, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Edward Norton are starting to unfold before our very eyes. This is the effect of climate change and global warming. Last year, Panay experienced its worst storm ever with 200-800+ people (depending on the source) dead. The extremely heavy, storm-caliber rains experienced just this afternoon is also a direct consequence of that. How did this happen? In simple terms, I will explain it like the omniscient philosopher that I am. Bwahaha! Due to increased carbon dioxide in the atmosphere ( from fossil fuels, factories, dumpsites, cattle and swine farming etc), the temperature of the earth gets warmer. If the temperature gets warmer, of course evaporation from oceans increase in volume. Increased evaporation equals more cloud formations. More cloud formations equals heavier rains. And the cycle would begin again.

A bigger threat with these crusades to fight global warming is the mere fact that people don't want to give up the lifestyle that is comfortable. Because of GW, people turn on their aircons. More aircons equals more energy expenditure. More energy expenditure equals more fossil fuel burning. More fossil fuel burning equals more global warming.

Feeling depressed now? Just wait next time when I have the energy to write about galcial melting and its effects on the price of ice water on the sari-sari store. Haha. For now, I'm signing off again.

The Most Dangerous Zodiac Sign

Is a crab. Cancer. Just returned home from my granddad's home where we attended Uncle Warren's wake. Uncle Warren died of cancer. I will always remember him as a very kind uncle who keeps on feeding you salad every five minutes just becoz he's already drunk. He almost always seem to be drunk, with the red chest and slurred speech. You see, my uncle is an alcoholic. Not the noisy, irritating, out-of-control type (like yours truly), but rather he's the attentive one, the caring one who comes to you and asks you "Nagutom ka to? Kuha taka salad ha". The only problem is, he does that every five minutes or so. As long as you are in his line of vision, you will always be full. He's the eldest of my dad's siblings (they're 9 kids) and he will sorely be missed. Yesterday morning, we bade farewell to my grandad and mom and all the uncles and aunties and cousins that were there. I was saddened when I kissed Auntie Janet (his wife) goodbye and she said, "To, ikaw na lang siguro mabantay Ceres ke wala na si Uncle Warren mo". Ahay nasubuan ako. As long as I can remember, basta magpapuli na kami nga daan from Nabas, Aklan it was my Uncle Warren who always volunteers to go out in the hot summer sun to wait for a Ceres bus. And now he's gone.

Because of this zodiac particular zodiac sign. He died of lung cancer after years of smoking and drinking. Nope his liver was not so bad. He died of pneumonia secondary to chemotherapy for his cancer. This scares me in a way I've never felt before. My Auntie Mila, my dad's sister and who probably is the most beautiful among the Lasernas, also has cancer. I remember her Greek features, high nose, porcelain skin and beautiful eyes. I haven't seen her for a long time but my cousins told me she had been reduced to skin and bones. Her painscale is at 10/10. I can't imagine why good people such as them get to die painful deaths. There are so many assholes in the world who deserve this. Not them.

I'm scared. Not just because it's confirmed that we have familial tendency for cancer. Not just because I can't afford cancer treatment. But more so because I don't have an unwavering faith in my God. So far, I seem to have lost it (again) somewhere along the way. And that bothers me. Much more than this zodiac sign of a shellfish with pincers.