This made me laugh when I wanted to cry. This is the list of choices for a question in a survey I took on Facebook.

	wala akong maisip ngayon.
	persistence is the key
	The show must go on!
	live on the edge!
	Bahala Na!
	Avada Kedavra!
	I have no special talent. I am only passionately curios
	P-p-p-poker face P-p-poker face!
	I want nobody, nobody but chu!
	Curios people are interesting people, I wonder why that is?:D
	Voltes V theme song "teret tet teret... tet tet!"
	Try and try until you succeed!
	I was Born to Leaad and not to Reaad...
	Go!

Back in Davao.

After denying it for three years, I have to admit:

It's where I now belong.

I salute to this article on SunStar Davao. It is by my high school Soc Stud and Entrep teacher (one of my favorites BUT! My blog, therefore my bias) Jocy So-Yeung.

Yeung: Katrina, Hayden, the Government, and Us

By Jocy So-Yeung
Unraveling
SunStar Davao

YOU got to hand it to our government officials. They really have effectively put their fingers on the pulse of the collective Pinoy. Our political leaders sure know what matters to the ordinary Juan and Juana. If they see how a certain issue aggrieves the nation, they jump in immediately and try to investigate. So helpful! So efficient! So fantastic!

Take for example the whole tragic melodrama starring Katrina Halili, Hayden Kho, Vicki Belo, its stellar supporting cast of Lolit Solis, Bong Revilla, and with the special participation of Mommy Irene Kho. Since the case of the scandalous video has attracted the attention of the entire Philippines, much like the boxing matches of Manny Pacquiao, it then seems like every elected and appointed government official is trying his or her best to grab a piece of the national spotlight.

Our government officials are so hard working that it's not enough that the NBI is looking into the case! Why, even the Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency (PDEA), Optical Media Board, and our inquiry-addicted Senators are also launching -- with much fanfare and press releases -- their own investigations.

According to my elementary Civic class, the Senate is part of the legislative branch of the government that focuses on making laws. But, here in the Philippines, the senators play Sherlock Holmes and Imbestigador too! Imagine, they would spend hours and hours grilling Hayden and Katrina. Drama, suspense, mystery all rolled into one! Galing!

The rate things are going, perhaps the House of Congress, Mayor Duterte, President Arroyo, and the AFP should form their own investigative bodies so this issue of grave national importance will be solved as soon as possible! Should Ban Ki Moon and the United Nations take a look at this too?

Interesting that after all the public yapping and camera-hogging, all the subpoenas and investigations, has anyone DIRECTLY addressed the problem of how to persecute individuals who circulate scandalous videos without the knowledge and consent of the people figuring prominently in the videos? I am not sure how many of the investigative teams have done anything remotely close to being an actual SOLUTION to the problem. But they do APPEAR busy, don't they?

Seriously, I believe what has happened to Katrina Halili is a very important issue. It is disturbing how an individual's right to privacy could be so grossly and repeatedly violated by countless strangers. However, this is not a new problem. The reason why most government officials are all agog about doing all they can to address the issue is simply because this is a high profile case involving popular celebrities.

As we all know, there have been many similar "scandals" in the past. It even seems as if there was a scandal from every university that had circulated one time or another via cellphones, the internet or DVDs. Has the government done anything significant about these past scandals?

No. Why? Because most ordinary Pinoys did not care that numerous women were being victimized all over the country by perverted voyeurs, vengeful ex-boyfriends, and the like. Because every Juan and Juana was too busy giggling and downloading those scandals to be loudly indignant. Because most of us think, it can never happen to us, our family or friends, and those women in the videos are probably loose party girls anyway, so it served them right to be caught on camera right? Right?

Wrong.

When I started writing this piece, I just wanted to make fun at the many government officials scrambling hard to be a part of the Katrina-Hayden video scandal case. But as I went along, I realized if there is anyone to be blamed for the government's behavior; it's us, ordinary citizens. After all, it IS the issue that we want to watch, read, and talk about the most. H1N1 virus? Too scientific. The plight of education in the country? Same old, same old. Climate change? Boring. Video scandals of celebrities??? Whoo-hoo! We're hooked!

The sad part? We're mostly just hooked on the scandal, the titillating factor, the showbiz angle, the sex. Most ordinary Pinoys are not demanding a stop to these videos, they're too busy watching the videos.

Soon, the Katrina-Hayden case will fade from our collective consciousness, our attentions onto the next hot topic. The myriad government investigations will peter out, our politicians grandstanding about a new headline-grabber. And only a handful Juan's or Juana's will bother to ask if the perpetuators were properly punished, if laws were passed to prevent the same violations from recurring, if there are now means to protect women from being subjected to such indecencies.

In a democratic country like the Philippines, the government is said to be "of the people". I guess that's what this issue has shown me -- that our government reflects the kind of people we are. In trying to poke fun at the government officials, I have inadvertently poked fun at myself.

*****

Jocy L. So-Yeung teaches at Davao Christian High School.

I have new favorite comic characters!!!

Presenting...


They're made by a friend of a friend.
Pero ang kapal naman ng mukha ko kung sabihin kong friend ko din siya.

Good Moaning!
I saw a poster or something a while ago that had the famous greeting on it and I thought I read it that way. But it is actually a very happy morning for me. :D

I was woken up before my tiktilaok alarm by my tita. She didn't feel like cooking and the usual food spots were too far to sojourn to because of the bad weather. So she woke me up to tell me we were eating at McDonald's. Despite the fact that aside from waking up on command, I HATE waking up before my alarm because it's obviously just not meant to be, I hopped out of bed. Haha. Kit, pass up on McDo??? Not gonna happen.

I guess the happy catalyst of my morning is that I did not laze away from doing my devotions early. I usually postpone until the last minute and I always feel bad about that. But I didn't and I'm just hopping up and down inside.

On the street, though, in a split second we opted for Jollibee instead upon my recommendation that the breakfasts are more Filipino-friendly there.

The Jollibee in the Exportbank building, I would go to even if I didn't have to eat. If you catch the better seats, there is a great view of the Pasong Tamo-Buendia corner, lovelier in rain, and delicious red furnished couches and ottomans (ottomen? Haha!). The renovation was SO worth it. I wanna grab n' run the lamps, too.

Anyway, I am actually posting because I read this in the paper at Jollibee while waiting for our food. It is entitled The 8th Note. That is not, however, what I noticed after reading but the SAD note it left for me.

The 8th Note by Barbara C. Gonzalez June 6, 2009 Sometimes when I think of him, I remember what an adorable baby he was, conceived on Beef Wellington washed down with champagne. He was born small, only five pounds, five ounces, little enough to fit on one of those large oval porcelain dishes my grandmother used for Sunday lunch. One afternoon when he was eight months old, I was carrying him around the house. He held the top button of my dress and made a noise that sounded like “kng kng.” He did it again the next day and the next. He would touch the button and say “kng kng,” until I got it. He meant “button.” On another day, I was carrying him as I walked around turning on lights. I turned on a lamp. He said “ight.” I turned on the ceiling light, he pointed and said “ight.” He was only eight months old when he began to talk and I marveled at his ability to speak so early. Boys are supposed to speak later than girls but obviously not my baby boy. I adored all my babies and took good care of all of them. I guess I make the ideal mother of babies. I love carrying them, burping them, bathing them, putting them to sleep in their little cribs. Most of my children I took care of by myself until they were around six months before I invited a yaya in to help. But when they began to run around, their yayas ran after them. My children and I got along famously until they were about five and learned to answer back. But I loved them still even through the craggy road of their puberty when I turned into a witch in their eyes. Now I think they only remember the witch. Nobody remembers the adoring mother of their baby days. Who would? My mother used to tell me stories of my father adoring me so much he took care of me by himself, gave me a bath, put me to sleep until I was six months old. Do I remember that? No. Now, my children are all grown. The girls are all over 40 and the cute little baby boy I’ve been describing so far is in his late 30s. They all have families of their own and they all live far away from each other and from me. “Do you know where Panay Avenue is?” I asked my driver, who is more of a stranger to Quezon City than I am. We set off looking for this address: Unit 201 Jajaj Building, 109 South Triangle, Quezon City. We took the long way, made a few wrong turns but finally we came upon Crossings Department Store and I remember him telling someone that he was in the building behind it. There I saw his car parked. Then I knew we had found The 8th Note, my son Gino’s new venture. Gino is a musician by inclination and training. His high school grades were like a mountain range, up then down, up again, down again, until he discovered music. Then they leveled out. After high school, he went to the United States to study at a keyboard institute. He graduated from there after four years. I believe he took up Sound Engineering or something like that. I don’t remember because by then he lived with his father who took care of educating him. Anyway, he turned into a musician and after he graduated did a lot of arranging and composing for many local talents including Regine Velasquez and finally playing with Pido at Conway’s in Makati for many years but he was always in search of a business to put up. Now at last, my Gino has set up a rehearsal studio in Panay Avenue and I promised to visit it and write about it to help him get started. It is on the second floor. It has a lovely dance studio, which you can divide in two for rehearsals of dance routines for TV shows or whatever. Cotillion rehearsals? Or you can hold yoga, ballet, ballroom dancing or martial arts classes there, too. The floor is beautiful. It also has two band rehearsal rooms, one bigger than the other, and a room in between for all the recording controls. It reminds me of the studios I used to go to when I was just starting my career in advertising and we had to go to tape and mix ad sound tracks. You can rent any of the rooms to rehearse in. It is located near ABS-CBN and GMA, so if they run out of rehearsal space, they can just call and reserve. Parking is no problem. They can park on the street or in the parking basement next door. If you want more information, call my son Gino Cruz at 416-6665. He will have more information. I am just a dotty mother writing about her only son’s latest project, a good-looking brand new rehearsal place. I promised him I would introduce it to society. It’s called The 8th Note. It makes me high like the Beef Wellington washed down with champagne did once. Now, 30 odd years later, my little baby boy has grown into the 8th Note. That’s fantastic, isn’t it?

Sad. To me.

They don't know they should love her because they don't know she loves them.

To them she is just someone who washed them out along with expensive meat and imported wine.

To her they are that, and all the world more.

I am sorry. I read to many good blogs and end up grabbing. But I ask for permission.

And this is from Therese.

However, fellow freshmen, boarding, dorming, or whatever, feast your eyes on this.


10 Ways to Freak Out Your Roommate.

10) Collect potatoes. Paint faces on them and give them names. Name one after your roommate. Separate your roommate's potato from the others. Wait a few days, and then bake your roommate's potato and eat it. Explain to your roommate, "He just didn't belong."

9) Move everything to one side of the room. Ask your roommate if he knows how much an elephant weighs, and look at the floor on the empty side of the room with concern.

8) Draw a tiny black line on your nose. Make it bigger every day. Look at it and say, "The hair, it's growing. Growing!"

7) Buy some knives. Sharpen them every night. While you're doing so, look at your roommate and mutter, "Soon, soon...."

6) Collect hundreds of pens and pile them on one side of the room. Keep one pencil on the other side of the room. Laugh at the pencil.

5) Tell your roommate, "I've got an important message for you." Then pretend to faint. When you recover, say you can't remember what the message was. Later on, say, "Oh, yeah, I remember!" Pretend to faint again. Keep this up for several weeks.

4) While your roommate is out, glue your shoes to the ceiling. When your roommate walks in, sit on the floor, hold your head, and moan.

3) Make a sandwich. Don't eat it, leave it on the floor. Ignore the sandwich. Wait until your roommate gets rid of it, and then say, "Hey, where the heck is my sandwich!?" Complain loudly that you are hungry.

2) Every time your roommate walks in yell, "Hooray! You're back!" as loud as you can and dance around the room for five minutes. Afterwards, keep looking at your watch and saying, "Shouldn't you be going somewhere?"

1) Talk back to your Rice Krispies. All of a sudden, act offended, throw the bowl on the floor and kick it. Refuse to clean it up, explaining, "No, I want to watch them suffer."