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.

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...

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.

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. -.-

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".

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.

Bagsak!

As a teacher, I'm black and white when it comes to grades. If you pass, you pass. If you fail, you fail. I don't care if you're always absent or always late so long as you don't irritate me and you pass all the requirements ( e. g. homeworks, etc) in my class. Moreover, I don't care if you sleep in my class or eat in my class so long as when I give a test you don't complain. That's the kind of teacher I am.

2 days ago, we had a university-wide send-off ceremony for the upcoming interns. Before that, I I proctored for their exam in Ortho-Pros. They all looked handsome and beautiful in their semen-white intern uniforms. Their excitement was evident but the hovering shadow of basi-may-failure-ako-kag-indi-ako-makaintern serves a bitter taste on the tongue. Some of them didn't invite their parents over, for fear ( or shame ) that all of these will just be exercises in futility once the grades are out. That same afternoon, I checked the papers and gave my grade inputs to Sir Mund for collation. The results were dire, he told me 3 girls failed in Ortho-Pros. They will still fail even if they perfect my Major Prax in Taping.

Yesterday, after the year-end general PT assembly, the faculty had the deliberation for the 4th year students. It was heartbreaking to see them. 4 people out of 8 are in danger of not getting to internship on time. A waste of time. A waste of energy. A sad, sad day.

Milagroso!

Omg! I witnessed a miracle today. My long dead and cadaveric computer just sparked back into life. I'm a self-confessed technological moron who doesn't know how to fix anything digital, electronic and mechanical thereby degrading myself to the ranks of the lower mammals. Approximately 2 weeks ago, my PC decided to quit on me. How dare it! Without any resignation letter or formal notification, this stupid mechanical contraption found it hilarious to just die out on me. I don't f*****g know what the hell was its problem. The monitor just goes to sleep everytime I turned the PC on. I tried to reattach the wires and and try to fix stuff ( of course I don't know what to fix in this event) but to no avail. Just this morning, I turned to computer on just to check if it will change its mind and get back to work. Still the same effect. I went to my room to watch TV and after awhile I came back out to find that it was back on its feet again. It just turned on.

What the hell is this? Miracle? Or this stupid PC of mine decided to come to work after finding out that the global financial crisis would make it difficult for it to look for a new job elsewhere? Remain my slave, PC! BWAHAHAHA

(Baw linteks ginakulbaan ko i turn off ang comp ke bac ndi nmn ni mgandar bla karun aw.. huhu...galeng ma ubra pako ya...huhuhu)

Waste of Time!

I'm totally wasting my time now. I am obliged to attend this seminar-training crap that is supposed to teach us to become teachers. Duh! Something like using technology to improve teaching efficacy. Powerpoint thing and internet sourcing. Watdapak! Waste of time!

First of all, I am a very low-tech person. Kung sa cheese curls pa tanan kamo Pringles na, ako ya nasa PeeWee stage pa lang! I don't need powerpoint to teach. I feel comfortable mgwakal-wakal kag mgsulat chalk sa blackboard! Anhon mo kung perfect ang imo powerpoint kung wala man may matun-an ang studyante sa imo? aber aber....

Second, this takes up a lot of my precious time. I should have spent this time drinking beer and sleeping till kingdom come.

Watdapak! Help me! Help me! Avah first time ko nag Ilong-lish sa blog ha... whahah