Mardan Words

After x months...

2011-01-16T22:58:00.002+08:00

Wow.

I just reread my own posts after years... there's a certain "time capsule" feel to it.

I hope I can blog again, even occasionally. At kahit hindi seryoso or english. :)

Hay.

I Want You, Bank

2009-07-10T21:00:00.002+08:00

(This entry’s title is obviously wordplay on one of my favorite songs of the late King of Pop. I have to admit that I’m not an MJ fan, but I have to agree that his contributions to popular music was immense. In effect, he paved way for more talented black artists to emerge, and he also redefined showmanship in the world of music videos. Obviously, millions want you back, MJ, since you’re gone too soon.)

A significant number of Pisay students were sick these week, hence the cancellation of classes starting Wednesday. Because of it, I had the time to actually do things that I delayed for months already, including updating my passbook. So to the bank I went to days ago. Apparently, the branch relocated anew, about four blocks away from its previous spot (its first relocation was just 30 steps away from the original site). Since the new branch location is considerably far from my home, I decided to close my account. Here are things that I learned that day:

1) Employees’ uniforms actually have a purpose. As I entered the bank, I approached a yuppie-looking man in front of the cashier and asked him about my predicament. He laughed; he was simply a companion of somebody in line. Red-faced became me.

2) Your signature defines you. Years after having my bank account, I decided to change my signature because I though the first one was corny and very grade school-y, just in time before graduation. The new one featured more strokes and self-proclaimed sophistication (haha). Obviously, the specimen signatures the bank had were my previous signatures, so when I presented my valid IDs, the process was stalled. I explained that in the previous bank branch, I already had the matter settled. Oh well. So please, to my students, have decent signatures as early as now.

3) Spelling numbers is not effortless. Since I was closing my account, I was asked to write down the remaining amount on a certain form. Then the guy asked me to write again, this time, to write in words. Woah. Writing digits 12345 is brainless, but twelve thousand, three hundred forty-five is not. The dash is tricky.

4) Interest rates are almost non-existent. We put our money in banks primarily for security, not for the money to multiply in excessive proportions, because it will not happen. Math 5 students should once in a while take a look at the interest that a certain amount earns in x months to further understand the epsilon-delta definition of limits, especially that of limits approaching zero. If I only had the business acumen, I would have invested my money in profit-generating ventures.

5) A hot fudge sundae guarantees a smile. Enough said.

I'm Thirsty

2009-04-12T20:33:00.000+08:00

I spent my Holy Week in Batangas, where my mother’s mother resides. During summer vacation, we siblings (at times with our cousins) are sent there almost every summer when we were children. In retrospect, we actually had ho-hum summers, doing practically nothing but playing (and secretly getting junk food and softdrinks from my lola’s small sari-sari store), and waiting for beach day, which is always the culprit of our sunburns bad enough to actually survive June. In contrast, a student I chatted with recently has a jam-packed summer consisting of three sports, and cooking class on top of that.

On Good Friday, the mayor of our small town decided to cut off the water supply. I suppose I’m the last to find out, waking up at around 10:30 a.m. and finding no water in the comfort room. Apparently, mister mayor wants us to involuntarily sacrifice, and he drove his point I guess, water being obviously essential. We had little water to drink as well. Talk about abstinence. Pork I can give up, breakfast I already did (for two days), but not water. I suppose there wasn’t any advisory, else we could have prepared water pails and all the containers. Losing water was such a horror; I didn’t move much so as not to get thirsty, since the water bottles in the fridge are all empty. Tell me, how can I live with no water? Can’t drink, can’t bathe with no water. Haha. There was also a 10-minute power interruption by 6:30 p.m., which we assumed was to last until whenever, making us conclude that mayor is a tyrant.

There was still no sign of water supply by dinner. My cousin got a pitcher, put plenty of ice, and poured Sprite. Soda’s effervescence (the jumping particles on the surface that can tickle one’s nose) has always amazed me. But there was no water. Hmmm. I haven’t drank softdrinks since exactly four years ago by Black Saturday, and I don’t want to ruin my streak. Man can survive for three days without water, said science, so the plan was to chew my food slowly to prevent me from choking. If I really need to, then I have to drink Sprite. It’s very odd that we have to drink soda to sacrifice for Lent. Plan B was get a block of ice and let it be water for x minutes, but that would take too long. I realized that my no-soda streak was about to end.

In a shocking twist of events, another pitcher apparently contained water. What. Sprite and water can be indistinguishable at times, especially in the dark, and when placed in translucent containers. Yey! No more dry throats. I wondered where it came from (since I couldn’t get a drink all afternoon), but I asked no more. Those two glassfuls were bliss.

Water supply was back the next day. Indeed, absence makes the heart go fonder.

I guess the same goes for other things that people take for granted. The same can be told about good friends. And school. Yearly, as March ends, I chat with a lot of students who were jubilant after the last periodic exam (or submitted requirement), troop to the malls, forego sleep for online games or PSP, yet were already bored after four or five days of “freedom”. In parallel ways like water, good friends and school refresh, support, and sustain us. No wonder, the first day of classes is one of the moments when pure joy is indeed both observed and experienced, and when the thirst for knowledge begins.

Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone, as the song goes.

Pushing the Boundaries of Dance: My Personal Account of Math Unit’s Low Number

2008-12-21T19:02:00.002+08:00

The brains behind the Humanities Week concocted a new twist to the pseudoannual Talent Show. Billed this year as Talent For a Cause, the project urged the Pisay community to vote for their favorite student performer, and/or their Academic Unit of choice. Proceeds will then go to the outreach projects of the school. Only the top five student performers/groups will be given the chance to perform, so friends and fans alike poured in effort to collect coins and bills for their (usually batchmate) peers. In the other division, the three units that will top the money votes will be “required” to perform on stage.

Here is my personal account of the craze that lead to the ubertalented Math Unit’s Low.

Pre-Humanities Week
Thursday, 28 August 2008
In the front lobby, on my way to Ateneo, Juan (Thy Kingdom Camia 2010) informed me that the Math Unit leads Talent For A Cause voting (alongside Chem and SocSci). I am clueless, so Juan explained the mechanics, that students get to vote for the units they want to see perform. I shrugged it off, since a lot can still happen, including persuasive campaigning for other units. Kidding.

Friday, 29 August 2008
A Talent For a Cause update revealed that the Math Unit still leads with 3000+ votes. The Math Unit even outvoted all the other units combined. Either people really clamor for us to perform, or students want revenge, given the piles of homeworks and seemingly intimidating exams. Sigh. Oddly, the students’ names were also listed, and the amount they contributed. Hmmm…

Humanities Week
Monday, 01 September 2008
I once in a while went to the 4th Floor Auditorium to peek at the Opening Salvo. The scorching sun practically uninvited me to the grandstand. Teasers of the student performers were generally okay, save for (Hello ARCI’s) Isabel’s Alicia Keys-ish number, which was very upbeat and classy. I stayed in the Math Faculty Center, trying to check papers, while waiting for Bow & RO 2012 students who will submit their problem sets early. The Math Unit still lead the tally.

Tuesday, 02 September 2008
ACLE time meant that I’ll stay in the 4th floor again. Ma’am de Joya (our unit head) sort of assigned me to be in charge for the Math Unit number. At the rate the Math Unit generated votes, we’re 99% sure to perform. I left for Ateneo in the afternoon, so I missed the KKKwiz (the Cardiac RS 2011 teams had a 1-2 finish!). I texted Cyd Calub (formerly of Sagala) if he can help the Math Unit with our performance. He asked what particular songs we like to be mixed, so I texted back: Go Girl (for the boys), Don’t Cha (for the girls), and Low (all together now). He did not reply after that.

Wednesday, 03 September 2008
An update was posted in the front lobby, reminding the Math, English, and Physics Units to somehow prepare for performances in case the units stay in the top three.

The Filipino Unit held the annual batch competitions on this day, so I was in the 3rd Floor Auditorium the whole day. I’m so proud of Bow & RO 2012’s sweep in Kilos Awit (Ruby’s Dakilang Lahi finished first, while Opal’s Handog ng Pilipino sa Mundo placed second). Their performances were very simple, yet honest, striking, and goosebump-inducing. Congratulations!

The sophomores’ Katutubong Sayaw was mildly interrupted by a shattered glass. Cardiac RS 2011’s efforts were rewarded as well: Sampaguita’s Singkil earned third place, while Rosal’s perfectly-lit Pandanggo sa Ilaw placed fourth. I, personally, found Jasmin’s Manlalatik/Subli the best in the bunch.

The juniors’ Di-Kumbensyonal took the competition a notch higher, with each section presenting original songs. Cesium’s winning sailor package – with their song, white sail, sailor costumes plus matching (Krispy Kremes-based) hats – was practically highlighted by the chimney-sounding bottles. Rubidium’s vocal harmony was above the rest, so they really deserved their second place finish.

Finally, my most-awaited contest, the Sayaw Interpretasyon, commenced. I thought Tau’s Tatsulok had it, with an angas feel throughout the performance, and each sequence with a different protagonist. Instead, Muon’s Posible clinched the first place trophy, largely because of unique ingredients – the puppet portion, and the reliable black light drama. Truth (the third-place section) and Graviton deserve extra applause for using their original songs. Electron, meanwhile, opted for a supreme showcase of their overflowing talents, which surely wowed the thrilled audience. Cyd and his gang deserve some props too.

Back at the Math Faculty Center, I was again reminded of the performance, so I sent Cyd a text message. There was no reply. On my way out of the campus, some pairs were practicing for the Art Fashion Show, including Jio (who won as Best Model two years ago under the Hipon banner). I told him about the dance thing, and asked him too to do choreography just in case Cyd cannot come up with one.

Thursday, 04 September 2008
0700
An official post declared that the Math Unit topped the voting. Meaning, the dance number should materialize. I stayed in the Math Faculty Center the whole morning, studying for my Ateneo make-up exam.

1100
I tried to call Cyd at around 11 AM, but he was inaccessible. Panic mode.

1230
Since I had to attend my Ateneo class in the afternoon, all I can do is text Jio to go up the fourth floor (once the fashion show ends) to try teaching the other teachers whatever he can come up with. Providentially, I chanced upon ARCI’s Julia, another Sagala member. So I told her my dilemma, and pleaded for her to go to the Math Unit as well after the fashion show. Thankfully, she agreed.

1330
I attended my Ateneo class, and then looked for my other teacher after for my make-up exam. It dawned upon me that this is the first time I’m missing Pisay’s fashion show.

1600
I finished my exam, then hurriedly went back to Pisay for the dance practice. Meaning, there was much brisk walking in between two jeepney and one pedicab rides.

1700
Back at Pisay, I was in the second floor of the SHB when Sir Vlad was walking towards my direction. “Anong gagawin ng Math?” he asked. “Wala akong idea, nandun sila sa taas,” I honestly replied.

At the Math Faculty Center, Jio and Julia (with other Sagala members) were already acting as dance masters to Sir Nat, Sir Sherwin, Sir Leo, and Ma’am Dinah. Good thing I wasn’t that late, and they were doing the chorus of Low. The students dance really well, and they were showing no signs of fatigue; in contrast, we teachers already felt aching legs even before we mastered the steps.

1800
The kids had to leave already, and we still only had the chorus done. They were suggesting other moves that we felt were either very complex, or too funny-looking for non-dancers. The idea of mixing songs were dropped, since nobody had the time for it, bit that’s okay. Ma’am Dinah had to leave for TriNoma, and Sir Leo went home. So, Sir Nat and I searched online for Low dance moves. We laughed our hearts out: the choreography’s more intricate. We had no choice but to invent the dance moves ourselves.

1900
We were supposedly tired, but we were having so much fun that the exhaustion was not yet felt. We tried to incorporate the Running Man and the Roger Rabbit, but the transition’s too fast, we had to drop them. We also planned to pull out hankies from our sneakers in the second chorus, but we never succeeded in pulling this trick off (no pun intended). We also orchestrated the blocking and formations (and the domino effects), so as to fill in the gaps of the unchoreographed parts. Haha.

2000
The hungry group trooped to TriNoma. Slowly, lactic acid formed in our bodies. My legs were too shaky. After dinner, we went to Coffee Bean to meet Ma’am Dinah. We taught her the moves inside the coffee shop, and I drew the formations at the back page of the placemat. All the time, Sir Vlad was either texting or calling Sir Sherwin regarding school stuff. We then concluded that Sir Vlad was fishing to be included in the number. Haha. So I made adjustments in the formation groupings.

2200
We went home, tired but happy. I was able to call Sir Vlad to invite him to join us. He was only too glad at the thought of dancing with us.

Friday, 05 September 2008
Morning
I waited for the teachers to come to practice what we have. The idea of Ma’am de Joya doing rhythmic gymnastics suddenly popped up. We weren’t able to attend the entirety of the Recognition/Convocation program. One by one they came, and last night’s dancers felt similarly about our legs, so we stretched properly before grooving. Last-minute editing were done to guarantee smooth transition, and the final pose was particularly hilarious to create. We were never complete before lunch, so the blockings weren’t practiced ever.

Lunch
Sections that won the competitions performed again, over lunch by the faculty and staff. I couldn’t finish my food at the thought of performing in a few hours.

Afternoon
Before proceeding to the gymnasium, we were at last complete, so we were able to have run throughs (if there is a plural in this article, this should be it). I couldn’t count anymore as to how many times I changed my shirt. At last, after freshening up, the dance troop was ready.

We were scheduled last to perform, so we were able to watch all the numbers. The numbers of the English and Physics Units were received warmly. How I wish I could whistle songs, as well as front a band. The student performers were above average as well; I particularly liked Isabel Serrano’s moment.

The Math Unit rehearsed a few times backstage before our time to shine, so as to counter the nerves.

Actual Performance
Chaos. The adrenaline rush made us forget about our aching body parts. From the very beginning until our very “rehearsed” wave, the crowd cheered us on. Down the stage, I was semihounded by former homeroom students from Jasmin 09 and Camia 2010; that was such nice short moments of getting together again.

Days after
Videos of the performance were uploaded; sadly, almost all of them were from the same vantage point. After x times of viewing, we dancers never tired of watching us perform. Upon closer inspection, it was very funny to see the reaction of select students after we danced. Slow-motion replays also showed the particular second when Ma’am Dinah dropped her pendant, and when Sir Nat’s 100-peso bill popped out of his back pocket. It was interesting to note that introducing us took way longer than the actual performance. Some of my students already memorized my part.

Dancing was such a nice group experience for the Math Unit. It was a release that a Coffee Bean checking/storytelling sessions or Red Box moments couldn’t match. Personally, I think my previous schoolyear’s SexyBack/Lovestoned number was better in terms of choreography and visual appeal, but I enjoyed Math Unit’s Low more by a mile, since I’m dancing with the math people (no explanation needed). Plus much of the effort – choreography, transition moves, formation, insane ideas – came from us.

After the performance, we failed to recognize the people who helped us with the number; perhaps the cheering distracted us positively. So thank you, Jio Santos, Julia Negre, and the other Sagala members who dropped by. Thanks too, Cyd Calub, who could have had helped us given different circumstances. Plus, personally, thanks to Vince Severino’s magic shoes (both for Low and SexyBack).

After the buzz has died down, we remain as Math teachers. Nothing thrills us more than teaching Math, where the classroom is our dance floor.

Heath Of the Knight

2008-08-31T11:05:00.000+08:00

Heath scared me. He will almost always surely give the audience lasting creeps with his performance in his last fully-finished feature film, The Dark Knight. His acting is so raw, so larger than life, it seems Joker will literally follow you until you get home – then initiate a “game” that you’ll eventually lose, to his utmost delight.

The Dark Knight has broken box-office records as fast as the Batmobile can transform, and the mighty movie Titanic is the only ‘iceberg’ that stops it to be the ultimate champ in terms of kerching-kerching (ticket sales seems to be the domain of older films like Gone With the Wind). It’s been said that Titanic’s staying power is attributed to its use of universal themes: love, and good versus evil. A movie is usually escapist: people are allowed to halt their lives for two or so hours, as they enter a different world where their can-never-be-fulfilled wishes or moments – the hot car, the mansion by the seaside, the to-die-for man/lady, the passionate kiss, the rags-to-riches story, the sweet revenge, snow – come true. Good versus evil is a given in superhero movies, but the love aspect is not as dominant in The Dark Knight.

Heath Ledger’s untimely death is the film’s undeniable x-factor. The trailer that I watched almost did not feature Batman that for a moment, I thought the term Dark Knight doubly referred to Joker, given his very dark character. Perhaps the idea of a dead person acting on screen, that there can be no future releases featuring Heath, prompted fans and non-fans alike to troop the theaters. (Apparently, Heath has an unfinished fantasy movie, and his character will be jointly portrayed by Hollywood superstars Colin Farrell, Jude Law, and Johnny Depp)

I’m not a Batman fanatic, so I can’t say that I was floored by the movie. Heath’s acting is indeed exceptional, but Aaron Eckhart’s turn as Two-Face is commendable as well (I just found his coin-flicking villain portion too short). Morgan Freeman delivered another Morgan Freeman performance, so that’s not surprising. It’s nice to note that Maggie Gyllenhaal (who replaced Katie Holmes) is the brother of Jake, who co-starred with Heath in Brokeback Mountain. Also, Maggie, for me, looks like Kirsten Dunst, Jake’s former lover.

Oops, before I forget, I just need to mention this: Batman’s voice annoyed me. Christian Bale was really good; it’s unfair that all his efforts were somehow overshadowed by Heath. His Batman showed a humane side, unlike the action-figure acts of the previous Batmans. However, his voice, when in costume, isn’t pleasing at all to the ears. In fact, I was too distracted that I failed to absorb what he was saying.

Heath’s death saddened the world, given that his career is in an upswing prior to the over-dosage. This might be a reminder to us to give our best in whatever we do, and that we should learn to appreciate things while they last. The likes of Heath can inspire in a span of 120 minutes; we normal beings, without our utmost knowledge, can do the same as well.

Tennis, the Menace

2008-07-20T15:02:00.000+08:00

Tennis has always been my favorite sport – to watch. I never had any opportunity to play a serious game, though I remember some short rallies back in high school x years ago. Some athletic batchmates wanted to maximize the then-brand-new Pisay tennis court, so before they played, I borrowed a racquet and tried some balls with a fellow non-athlete.

I don’t know when or how my fascination with the sport began. We didn’t even have cable TV in when I was still in elementary or high school, so I had no visual memory as well. Everything I know, I got from newspapers (and encyclopedia for the history). Somehow, I can relive the experience just by reading the facts mixed with emotional statements from the players. Given too that I am a data person who enjoys lists, I constantly looked forward to the updated ATP rankings, or the new Grand Slam champion, whatever the surface is. The game’s scoring and analysis is easy to follow (unlike baseball), and the game proper is very engaging (unlike golf). The stars of tennis are a plethora of personalities, each with a different game plan and surface of choice, though the really big ones can practically play on mud or sandpaper and still bring home the trophy. Coming from a country that’s generally celebrity-obsessed, my short list of icons include Pete Sampras, Andre Agassi, and other tennis hitters (of course, besides “rockstars”, kind people, and respected mathematicians).

Sampras and Agassi. We soon had cable when I was in college, and I was always on a lookout if there’s an upcoming tournament. Alas, the two superstars were featured in the finals of a major tournament (I couldn’t recall if it was Wimbledon or the US Open of 2001 or 2002). That fact shouldn’t be surprising, except that both players were past their prime at that time, though they still were serious contenders. I usually go to school at 8 AM even if my classes start after lunch; this day was different. It’s just necessary to stay home and finish the classic match. And so I did.

I am a fan of both players, though I was rooting for Sampras more. Maybe because he was the silent type like me, unlike the outburst-inclined Agassi. Maybe because he has more Grand Slam titles, though Agassi has at least one title from all four tournaments. When the game began, I was clapping for every point, whether for Andre or for Pete. I actually wanted a long game, so I was cheering for the person who was lagging behind in points. The two are friends off-court, but as the game was in play, it’s as if they were tasked to kill and obliterate the opponent. In a very civil way. In the end, it was Sampras who prevailed. Not surprisingly, Agassi was happy for Sampras.

Fast forward to the present. The Sampras-Agassi rivalry has long retired in the annals of tennis history, and the current top tennis superstars – Switzerland’s Roger Federer and Spain’s Rafael Nadal – are revving up for another epic match in the 2008 Wimbledon finals. Nadal, a power hitter, is a four-time French Open champ, doing it in consecutive years. Meanwhile, Federer is perhaps the most elegant player today, and is Wimbledon king the past five years. The newspapers have highlighted the Mr. Clay vs. Mr. Grass angle a million times: Nadal was Wimbledon runner-up the past 2 years, while Federer is twice runner-up as well in Roland Garros. There is no doubt that they are 1 and 2 (even if Australian Open winner Djokovic is slowly making his presence felt); therefore, it’s a must that I get to watch the finals. This should be an epic match.

Since we don’t have cable TV at home, I had to watch with a coteacher. Since it’s a Sunday night, I was preparing Math 1 stuff while watching. I’m rooting more for Nadal, because he came close to winning last year, unlike Federer’s French Open loss, which is very much lopsided (in exchange, I will be cheering for Roger in next year’s French Open). And he leads their career match-ups. Plus, Nadal is a leftie like me. Haha. Anyway, after the replay of the Williams sisters’ finals showdown, I was a bit impatient already because a drizzle delayed the beginning of the game.

As soon as the game commenced, I realized that Roger finishes a point almost immediately after he serves, and since I’m busy working, I miss the winning shot almost always. In contrast, Nadal allows me to work, since he maximizes the 20 seconds allowed before the ball is served (to the dismay of his opponents). Every point is very hard-earned. Just like before, I was clapping for a point by any player. Rafa won the first two sets overwhelmingly (even coming from behind in the second), and is all set to demolish the grass king.

And then the rain poured. Federer is leading 5-4 when play was stopped. Argh. Practically, the rain saved Roger from being robbed of the crown. This gave me time to work. However, I finished my Math 1 stuff already, yet the game has not resumed. It’s already midnight, and there are classes the next day, so I had to go home with much reservations. True enough, the moment I hailed a cab, play was on again. Apparently, it was the first of three rain delays. When I woke up, I was greeted with text messages that were actually straightforward regarding the outcome. The paranoid person in me insisted that Federer won a 6th, and for a time I felt sad for Nadal, for he had the momentum already, winning the first two sets. Later that day, through the Internet, I verified that I was incorrect, and Nadal succeeded in having his first non-French-Open Grand Slam title. Whew. Somebody commented that I just missed what was probably the best tennis finals in history. But I had class the next day, so it was a choice between being the supreme spectator on the couch, or the player in center court, in front of the class, on the platform. The choice was easy.

There’s something about tennis that resembles life. All the rules are laid out, things are measured (the court’s length and width, the net’s height, racquets should be in regulation, etc), and yet, once the serve is under way, nobody is in control. A player must learn how to adjust to the varying ball spins and speeds, to the wind’s ever-changing directions, to the rowdy crowd (the grunting Monica Seles must know this after her stabbing incident), to the misjudgment of the umpire, to weather changes that may cause the game’s suspension. Both players must have practiced every possible shot – backhand, forehand, frontline slams, crazy spins, unexpected drop shots – about a million times with equally agile practice partners for years, yet they are bound to commit double faults and unforced errors. That’s life. You can never be totally ready, but somehow, you should try to dominate and enjoy the ride. Who knows, after five or so hours (years) of struggle, and when the dust has settled, you will be declared victor.

Sir Recites

2008-05-08T11:30:00.000+08:00

Summer. I personally look forward to April and May, not because I dread school work, but more because of the opportunity to do things that are simply not possible or not recommended during the academic year. Sleeping late (and getting up late as well) caused by various reasons (watching TV, on-line chatting, etc) is one of these things, as well as movie marathons, frequenting the malls with high school / college friends, and the afternoon siesta. But I couldn’t afford to do as much pleasure this time around, since I’m back to school in Ateneo to continue (yet again) my MS degree.

Back in college, my course – BS Mathematics – required me to attend summer classes twice (between my 1st and 2nd year, and between 2nd and 3rd). I was free for the next summer, but I opted to enroll, together with my Math friends, so as to earn a minor degree in Economics. That summer was the only time I paid a certain nontrivial amount during enrollment, because my scholarship didn’t cover that particular term. My summers became different after becoming a teacher in Pisay, though. I was free, basically, to do practically anything. But not now.

For many reasons, I am currently enjoying my re-entry in the Loyola Schools. Being in a classroom where I sit, listen, and recite (instead of stand, talk, and sweat) is refreshing (again). Also, this is my first term in Ateneo wherein I bump into a lot of former students (mainly from Batch 2007). My classes the past semesters were scheduled either Saturdays, or late in the afternoon (4:30 to 6 PM) weekdays, so as not to interfere with my teaching schedule in Pisay (most of my classmates teach too). But since I do not teach during summer, my sched now is not set in unpopular hours, just like that of my former Geom students. I even eat lunch with them at times.

Graduate classes are very different. The pace is faster, depth is expected, and classmates are scarce. I was in a class of 10, and that was the maximum that I had so far. Some of my classes, especially the one I’m currently enrolled in, have the problem-solving approach, meaning we have to learn by alternately solving problems in front of the class. Hmmm. So if there are 15 questions in a 90-minute period, and there are 5 students in the class (including myself), in the spirit of fairness, each of us should answer three problems, given an uncertain permutation. Or in the case of a hard random problem, there is a 20% chance that I will be called to present in front. That’s a large percentage, versus a one-in-thirty chance as a Pisay student. Argh. I should study more, I guess.

Held Up, Held Down

2008-02-09T13:37:00.000+08:00

I’d like to think I was almost held up weeks ago.

It was broad daylight. I was performing my morning routine, riding a jeep towards Agham, still half-asleep, when the unthinkable almost happened.

One of jeepney’s unwritten rules is that passengers should be equally spaced, or at least seated within comfortable distances of each other. This just follows logic, and is convenient too if someone from the far end wants his fare to reach the driver. To my surprise, an old man seemed to be ignorant of the “rule,” and inched his way towards me, not only when new passengers ride the vehicle, but at any given opportunity. This strange action of his prompted me to also inch away from him, but I’m running out of space.

Normally, my mind is drifting towards random thoughts, about what happened the day before, or planning what to do for the next few hours. For some reason, I was alert that day, and I noticed that this old man (let’s label him Brutus) held something with his left hand (he was at my left): a nail cutter with one of the pointy edges out. That’s when I became tense: Brutus could have mistaken me for a high schooler, and he wants my phone or money, or both. Even though the nail cutter cannot do any serious harm, it can create a penetrating feeling when pressed with force against flesh. Of course I couldn’t give Brutus the benefit of the doubt – that he may had just wanted to perform manicure on himself while the jeep is travelling at x kilometers per hour – so I transferred to the jeep’s other side while it was moving, to the surprise of my two new seatmates. Better safe than sorry, I guess.

Perhaps I was that paranoid, but nobody else took notice of the minor weapon that Brutus had in hand. I had the urge to whisper to my seatmates that Brutus in front of us could be manong holdaper, but they might think I’m crazy. It took a while before Brutus hid the edgy part of the nail cutter – thank heavens – but no, the nail cutter was only the appetizer: he then unfolded a metal scissor that’s about four inches long. That weapon can kill, I said to myself. Adrenaline pumped so fast, but maybe again, my seatmates sensed nothing. Any minute, Brutus might attack. Agham felt like a bazillion miles away. This became my longest ride to school. Brutus was toying with his scissors, as if he was consciously torturing me psychologically (reaction of seatmates: none!). I was trying to be calm, thinking of the possible scenarios. If I alight immediately, it should be somewhere populated, and I should be able to transfer to a cab. But he can always alight with me, and even pretend he knows me, and I might be reduced to a helpless victim knowing what he possessed. Well, I can run for my life, but the non-athlete that I am, he can surely catch up. Creating a commotion (“Tulong!!!!”) was also sort of out of the picture, but who knows.

If I stay in the jeep, and he attacks, I was thinking of giving him a supreme kick from my titanium-enhanced right leg. But Brutus doesn’t look like he’s a weakling, so he can always retort to more violence which can lead to a slashed face, or a misplaced ear, or a dripping stomach, all belonging to me. So, I deduced, if he attempts to get anything from me, I should give whatever he needs: my phone, my wallet, maybe even my bag. I have always told this to people, but I doubt if it’s that easy to let go of the things you own. Yes, your life is more valuable, but given the tension, people cannot think rationally.

Fortunately, Brutus alighted the vehicle way before we reached Agham. I imagined him giving me one last slash that will leave me permanently wounded, but perhaps he gave up, knowing his ex-future victim was aware of his plans. Sigh of relief.

Processing the whole incident before I reached Agham, I realized that inasmuch as I will find it hard to give up my phone and wallet (filled with important cards but minimal cash), I will have a harder time giving up my bag, mainly because the quiz that I earnestly checked the night before were placed inside, and they weren’t recorded yet. Haha, it’s minutes before my “death” moment, and I’m still consumed by my work.

The rest of the morning left me really sad for a lot of things, but not because I almost lost valuables. This is one in-your-face moment that reminded me of the dangerous world we are living in, and we commuters are somehow more subject to this specific type of evil. Kapag oras mo, oras mo na, as they say. But my commuting students still have a lot of dreams to be fulfilled, and losing them early will be too unfair.

Unfair. Looking at the greater scheme of things, Brutus and the rest of his tribe do not perform their illegal acts just for the heck of it, but probably because they have families to support (sigh, benefit of the doubt for Brutus). Given that this is a dangerous world, this is also a world of unequal opportunities. Well, it’s not my fault that a random Brutus couldn’t find a decent job, but to a certain extreme extent, it’s not his, too. I really do hope that the government can solve important matters like these, although I know each citizen is also responsible.

Still, Brutus doesn’t have any right to inflict harm to others. Filipinos’ daily dose of news will never be devoid of petty crimes, leading to the desensitizing of the audience. It seems snatching a phone is the norm now, but it shouldn’t be. Since we cannot plead to these Brutuses to spare us commuters, let’s just be more vigilant while on the road. Meaning, drop the daydreaming until you reach your destination.

Be safe.

SUPRISE!: The TKC Christmas Party

2008-01-06T11:39:00.000+08:00

(Note: the missing ‘R’ in the title is intentional; all grammar errors (if ever) in this post aren’t)

Wednesday, December 12. Two days after the Outbound, I was to meet Thy Kingdom Camia again, this time for our Christmas Party. It was supposed to be an overnight outing either in Subic or Laguna, but apparently the plans didn’t push through. Organizing the party was a bit of a mess for me, since a lot has already expressed that they will not go, or at least seek permission from their parents first and they weren’t optimistic. Besides, I had to attend to field trip matters first. Good thing I remembered a conversation between Kit’s mom and myself regarding a Christmas party, and she was very willing to coordinate with Aveline’s dad (Camia’s PTA president). I asked Kit and Aveline to talk to their parents, and Juan and I also “summoned” Mia to prepare her place as well.

A day after the field trip, Mrs. Medina sent me a text message that the party’s already arranged, and it was to be held in the clubhouse near Mia’s home in Rizal. Camia had to meet in Pisay at 2 PM. Having someone else to organize was such a relief, as I was becoming impatient already since there were group messages that I sent to TKC that were ignored in general, and only one person replied in one simply to correct the date I specified in the text message. And the day before the TKC Party, I was with Jasmin 09, so I didn’t have to text people while watching a movie or whatever. After the Rehipons, I called Mrs. Medina as soon as I got home and asked what else should be done. She said all I had to do was show up. Wow. Plus, since she contacted the parents of TKC, more students were sure of coming. Suddenly, I felt again that this was a party indeed, since, as they say, the more, the many-er. I slept comfortably that night.

The morning of the party, TKC again did not answer my text messages, save for Josh and Mia, who resides near the Village East clubhouse. Oh well, Mrs. Medina guaranteed a good number of attendees already, so I should not worry much. I went to SM North EDSA first to buy some gifts and a party shirt before going to Pisay. While I was lining up at the gift wrapping section, Mia informed me that the first batch of people who met up in Pisay were in the clubhouse already. I found it odd at first (that people went ahead without my knowledge), but then, there might not be enough space in the vehicle, so a second trip might be needed. I was to ride with Arvin, JP, Niccolo, JJ, and Miguel.

A little past 2 PM, I arrived in Pisay, and Arvin was there, while I saw Miguel and JP coming too. I told them to text me if our sundo (Kit and mom) arrives already, since I had to get some stuff in the Math Unit. At the fourth floor, It seemed that it was a normal school day: Ma’am Joyce, Sir Petri, Ma’am Dinah, and Sir Sherwin were there, finishing their late lunch and fixing their tables. So I stayed their and chatted for a while. Then the three students came up, this time with JJ, who’s fresh from an injury that caused his absence in the outbound. I checked out his stitches on his inner lower lip. JP was busy making him laugh, since it hurts for him to do so. All of us then went for the front lobby to wait for Niccolo.

It turned out that Niccolo will be very late; Mrs. Medina and Mrs. Pangilinan were already thinking of different plans to transport us to the clubhouse without Niccolo. Since Kit’s car was caught in EDSA traffic, Mia’s van went to Pisay instead for us. At around 3:30 PM, at last, Niccolo came all the way from Cavite, so he has his own transpo. Since he had a PSP (probably the most popular gift for male teens this season), JJ and JP went with him, while Arvin and Miguel were with me in Mia’s van. Mia asked to be texted when we are near the clubhouse already. Arvin and Miguel were talking but I couldn’t hear what they were discussing, so I whiled away time with my iPod Shuffle. I just checked on the two nice guys once in a while.

I texted Mia that we already made a right turn in Robinson’s East, meaning we were about 15 minutes away. I texted again when we entered Village East already. When the vehicle’s only a few meters away from the clubhouse, I noticed that the first floor was decorated, and the tables were finely set. “Oh, there’s another party in the area,” I said to myself. Mia, Aveline, and another girl welcomed us in the place, and Mia told me: “sir, sa taas tayo,” sort of confirming that there was indeed a different gathering in the same place. And Kit’s mom also said something to that effect. Upstairs, I never looked for the food or the arrangement, but for Camia, who were clustered together in one corner of the floor. They were holding a large colorful banner, and they shouted “Happy Birthday!” I was half-expecting this part since they know my birthday occurs in the Christmas season; and I was genuinely smiling. At the back of the party banner were messages written in different colors. They motioned that we should go down. So maybe the TKC Christmas Party will now commence, briefly interrupted by the cheerful birthday greet.

I was wrong. The whole event was to be my birthday surprise. When we went down seconds earlier, the question as to where will our party be set never entered my mind, probably because I was too glad with the banner. The area with the delightful setting turned out to be our venue. They had a kiddie birthday cake, and beside it was a framed caricature of mine (as Superman), created by Portia, overnight without sleeping. I was in the process of getting flabbergasted already: TKC prepared something big for me. And it didn’t stop there: a clown appeared, asked me to sit on a monobloc chair, and he led the crowd of students and parents in singing the birthday song. By this time, I was already very overwhelmed. I covered my face for a time: part of me wasn’t sure if I indeed deserve the celebration. The scene was surreal. Mr. Clown then asked me for a message for the class, and it was hard for me to speak. I knew I had to say something funny, if I don’t want a sobfest.

There were 24 TKC students in attendance: Justin, Arvin, Job, JP, Jethro, Dan, David, Niccolo, Josh, Kit, Conrad, JJ, Marckie, Juan, Aldrich, Miguel, Emil, Jon, Portia, Zarra, Mia, Elysse, Justine, and Aveline. Which might be coincidental, since I will be turning 24 by the twenty-second of the month. Before we had our dinner, the clown invited five boys and five girls to participate in a game. The girl and boy groups were to run in front, let a garter run through their body, return to the line, and this goes on until each person has done the deed twice. Since the girls were partly conscious, the boys won. There was also a “bring me” game.

Before eating, Juan mentioned something like “akala nyo sir, hindi namin inaasikaso yung party a.” True. So that made the surprise work. Save for the unanswered text messages and an early group going to Mia’s place, there was no hint of a surprise. Besides, I should never expect one, for disappointment will just get the better of me. The food was abundant and fine, but I couldn’t processing its taste; rather, I was trying to remember the details of the area, and I was hopping from one table to another too. Oh haha there was sorbetes with kuyang sorbetero at the side.

The clown continued with his act. I thought he was relatively humorless at times, especially when Camia boys say something bluntly. Oh, at the beginning of the surprise, he said something like “diba, pangarap mong maging clown?” to which I was surprised. I have an imaginary long list of things that I want to try at least for a day, and being a clown is one of them, but I do not remember telling that to anyone.

Mr. Clown then introduced Mr. Magician. The tricks he performed were already seen before, but there’s something about doing magic acts that sustains my attention and awe. He asked me several times to blow his hand, and many things, notably the white bird, appeared. He seemed to be more personable, and he asked me to “drink” milk too. In his most whoa-provoking act, he asked JP (who had magic tricks – more of cheats – of his own) to stand to be decorated by materials emanating from his oddly empty paper bag. There was also a pabitin of goods, and I was asked to shatter a palayok of chocolates and coin (I needed a second try haha). The boys collected the coins so they would have money for their computer shop game.

Juan then asked everyone to watch a PowerPoint presentation from a laptop (there was no projector; nobody minded actually), prepared by Jon. Since he forgot to add sound effects, Jon narrated the whole slide show with live sounds, which almost made the group roll on the floor laughing all the while. Jon is a natural irreverent entertainer, way back in our MTP 1 days, but he has to showcase more of it to TKC. Fortunately, the narration was enough compensation. The slide show was heartwarming at the least, with enough mushy material that I am at home with.

Probably the highlight of the event, at least in my perspective, was when everybody present stated their birthday greeting. Understandably, some of them were a bit shy, since it has to be done with a microphone. A lot too were unprepared, and some perhaps couldn’t say it in words. Still, the statements were moving. There were funny quips, like Portia’s “sana gumaling kang magturo” and Dan’s “I hope you wouldn’t die.” Emil wished that I be his junior year Math coach and teacher yet again, but that might not be possible inasmuch as it was touching. Remarkable, and at the same time hilarious, were the metaphors of Job (eggshell) and Niccolo (trash can).

It’s just natural that I give out my message in return. Still overwhelmed, my message lacked coherence, and it became a bit lengthy when I tried to give imaginary gifts to everyone present. When I finished, they had party poppers ready, and Job positioned his directly at me. Good thing it hit me only on my left arm, and the red mark lingered. Apparently, Job wasn’t aware that its pressure could hurt. There were raffle prizes, and Juan and Justine asked me to pick out the names. I eventually picked mine. Haha. Jethro won the grand prize.

The last part involved Magic Sing. David, Niccolo, and the other boys trooped to the computer shop to play, while some others had their emo moments in a corner. The remaining boys and Justine surprised me with their vast knowledge of songs that can be categorized as jologs. Job was too hyper.

All good things have to end. I had a lot of stuff to bring home, and the boys and I contorted ourselves in Mia’s van, which will take us to Pisay. The girls – Mia, Zarra, Portia, and Aveline – rode the car. Elysse, Mackie, and Dan left earlier, while Josh, Aldrich, Kit, Justine, Niccolo and Jethro had their own means. The boys were teasing the emo guys in the van. Soon, we were in Pisay.

I waited until everybody was fetched. Justin always amazes me with his disappearing acts: nobody notices if he left already. Finally, I rode a cab with David (dropped off in Welcome Rotonda) and Emil (perennial commuting buddy, dropped off in Blumentritt Ext. cor. España). When I reached home, I just had to text people to check if they’re home already, but more to thank them for their presence and for pulling off a surprise. It was the first time that a surprise was meant for me, and the elation was simply spontaneous. True, I brought a lot of things when I returned, but the pleasant memories were just more abundant.

Rehipons

2007-12-31T10:27:00.000+08:00

Tuesday, the 11th of December. I was scheduled to meet up with Jasmin Hipons, my former advisory class, for our much-delayed gathering. Dubbed as Rehipons (with the full title “Reshrimp. Reprawn. Rehipon.”), it was also Re-Eastwood as well for it was the venue of choice. There were many cancelled school days this school year, so I thought grouping ourselves together was an easy task. But make-up classes, piled-up requirements, and Ramayana practices got in the way. I even doubted if Rehipons will push through, but the long break provided convenience. Kervin, the resident gm-er, spread the word, but some still had deadlines to beat, while others were in the province already.

Pisay was the meeting place, and at around 10 AM – which means we are destined to leave about two hours later. When I arrived, five Hipons – Das, Arvie, Jojo, Hannah, and Camille – were already in the front lobby. I excused myself for a while to get some things in the Math unit, and there were more people who arrived. I never expected Paul and Topher to come since they did not reply to my group message, and Jojo wasn’t sure when I talked to him before. Inah played hard to get over the phone with Das, while PJ and others feasted on the scarce food that I brought (from yesterday’s outbound activity). It’s hard to determine as to who we are waiting for, since people are not replying, save for Migs. Well, I actually do not mind doing the waiting game. The laid-back atmosphere with the people you miss terribly is more than enough consolation. Frances backed out the last minute, while Jio and Jenny will go straight to McDo Eastwood.

Jasmin was subdivided into 4 taxi groups (yep, no transpo). Kervin went with Ange, Hannah, and Camille (Jasmin-Sr). Arvie, Daryll, and Migs were with Paul; they were the first ones to leave. Topher and Jojo stayed with me. I designated PJ to stay behind with Das and Erin as they wait for fashionably late Inah, who arrived as my group just hailed a cab.

I asked for the plate numbers of the others’ cabs, just in case Mr. Cab Driver turns out to be Mr. Criminal-In-Disguise. The wonders of Unlitxt. It was cheaper to communicate because of the promo (well, cheaper if the promo is maximized), and we can kill boredom by sending hollow messages. 23 out of 30 Hipons are with Globe, just like me, which makes it more expedient. Jio and Jenny were already together, and soon, at about a quarter before 12, the pack regrouped.

We ate lunch at Yellow Cab, probably one of the more common group food choices. It was partly my birthday treat as well, so choosing high-end restaurants is a no-no. Plus, I have envisioned Rehipons to be a feast of Roasted Garlic and Shrimp pizza because of obvious reasons (pomelo juice will be harder to find, unfortunately). There were also 4 Cheese and New York’s Finest. We sat at a very long table with me at the end. Drinks were either Coke or Sola Iced Tea, and Daryll played with Miguel’s bottle. He put crushed chili peppers in his iced tea and asked people to drink. It seems a moment of cheap thrills is inevitable given any Rehipons. Haha. Daryll replaced Migs’ drink, and soon, we were feasting.

I doubted if we will finish what I ordered given that the girls usually eat like birds. Fortunately, the guys were more than willing to take the portions intended for the girls, plus latecomer Jiggs is never shy in times like these. Slice by slice, the food was annihilated. PJ and Daryll ordered potato halves, and I gladly took a bite.

After eating, we went outside and stood there for a time, when we noticed policemen taking pictures. One of them, Inspector Cadelina if I am not mistaken, chatted with us. We shared that we were from Pisay and that our break started already. He then asked if it’s true that Pisay scholars are a cut above the rest, to which I answered hangingly, “well,…” with matching hand gestures and facial twitches. By the way, the police was under the impression that all of us were classmates Haha, works every time.

Apparently, Re-Eastwood meant doing everything again: we were to watch a movie, and then troop to Power Station for some action. I do not mind actually; being with them again, whatever the activity, is enough. I was teasing them to watch One More Chance, especially since we should have watched Vhong Navarro’s Agent X44 instead of Night at the Museum had the Star Cinema flick been shown in Eastwood. Unfortunately, One More Chance wasn’t screened in Eastwood at that time either, to the majority’s relief. We settled for Golden Compass; Camille went home already, sadly. Choosing the seats was fun. Ten people were to sit in one row, then the other seven in the next, but not together. Three will sit at the left end of the row, while the remaining four at the right, since there is a senior citizen placed in the middle of the row. I hoped he won’t mind if our group started to imitate chaos.

The group started to buy candies and other food items, then we went inside. I sat beside Daryll, since he was a fun seatmate in Night at the Museum, plus I am a fan of his jelly beans. In spite of my egging, he didn’t buy jelly beans this time, since the flavors that he wanted were unavailable. Ange, Jenny, and Jio were at the left end, while I sat with Daryll, Kervin, and another person (was it Arvie or Hannah?) on the right end, and the rest were in the row in front. Meaning, I was nearest Mr. Senior Citizen.

In my opinion, the movie never took off. It was like a long wait for a spark, and then it ended already. Some characters in the movie had very ugly demons. Fortunately, the effects were good, and the child actress is pretty talented. We were laughing at something when we were going out of the cinema, but I couldn’t recall the topic exactly. It has something to do with Mr. Senior Citizen and one of the parting lines of the movie.

Power Station time. I just had to share that it was my first time to win in the Air Hockey with triple puck play *applause*. Kervin played monstrously, so I was delegated as the assistant, but nevertheless, I won for the first time. Jio and Ange couldn’t handle our tandem, and I had at least two aces. Daryll, PJ, and Jiggs, meanwhile, tried the punch machine. Daryll and PJ, karetistas as they are, kicked instead, and they tallied the same score. Jiggs was assigned the finale punch, and since he was doing it the conventional way, a higher score was intended. As he gathered momentum, his lower half hit the metal surface of the machine already, making his punch way weaker. That was a very funny scene. They also tried the guitar, the drum game, Tekken, and the zombie-shooting game as well.

I knew I should have recorded Miguel when he went for Dance Maniax. He was simply an epitome of grace, which might be hard to find for someone with a large built. He actually danced and he used his feet when necessary. There were confusing sequences wherein one has to use his hands over and under the censors in seemingly impossible rhythm, but Migs was always up for the challenge. Surprisingly, Topher was pretty good in Dance Maniax as well.

After our group pictorial, Das, Erin, and Jenny headed home already, while some opted to play some more. We left at about 6PM. Only Jio was to be fetched, and the rest were to commute. Arvie and Jiggs headed to a different direction. The group went outside Eastwood, to no avail. Miguel rode a jeep already. We went back inside Eastwood, and Jio was willing to let Paul, Jojo, and Topher hitch with him until Pisay.

Oh, by the way, Ange and PJ handed me a Bench paper bag with “something” inside. It was presented in the most non-surprising of ways, with the very articulate PJ doing the talking. It was a corkboard filled with messages from Jasmin and other sections as well. Actually, I wasn’t surprised since I saw the contents already as early as Yellow Cab. Nobody was guarding it! Haha, I was just waiting as to when the group will present it to me. Thanks to the simple gift, guys. It was very much appreciated.

While waiting for a cab, I asked Hannah and Inah to fill up empty colored papers to be put also in the cork board, while I bought McMilkshake (do they call it this way?) with PJ and Daryll. Soon, Kervin, Hannah and Ange hailed a cab, leaving Inah with us milkshake guys. Inah was already frantic; her mom already texted Das as to Inah’s whereabouts. Finally, the cab from heaven arrived, and off we went to Trinoma. I was a bit tired, but I was giving random questions basically to update myself, and they were willing to answer some of them. The prom season always bring excitement.

The moment we reached Trinoma, Inah left the cab hurriedly, as if we were strangers. Maybe she can feel mom’s ire. The three of us went to Food Choices to sit while waiting for Daryll’s parents, but we immediately tranferred to McDo Mindanao. PJ rode a jeep before Daryll and I crossed the street. Inside the fast food establishment, I was reading the little notes in the corkboard while chatting with Daryll. Soon, his parent called, and we separated ways. I rode the Quiapo jeep.

Before reaching home, I was recounting the day’s events, and that’s when I realized that the ties that bind Jasmin 09 and I are pretty much intact. Same old, and yet different. I looked forward to the next Rehipons tentatively set in February. I hope more people can come. We can do things over and over again, but I will not get tired of it.

Water, Mud, a Raffle, and a Rock Star: the 2010 Outbound

2007-12-30T11:09:00.000+08:00

Last December 10, Batch 2010 had their Educational Outbound Tour in San Pablo, Laguna. As Camia’s adviser, I am required to accompany my class, which is not a problem at all. Although some of them didn’t feel like going; the long Pisay Christmas break just started. Actually, this is my first Outbound set right before a vacation. All the other three that I attended were scheduled on a Friday within the school calendar. It’s a bit sad that TKC isn’t complete to a superlative degree: Job, Dan, JJ (who backed out the last minute because of a minor accident), Vinz, Jon, Jeff, Rekon, Kat, and birthday boy Justin weren’t able to join the activity. If it’s any consolation, lesser people meant lesser kids to account every time there’s a stopover.

Camia was supposed to share Bus 4 with Jasmin (the advisers, in the most recent meeting, picked random numbers), which meant that Bus 4 = corny bus. Jasmin’s not part of ARCI, but I know some of them relatively well. Jasmin is MTP-heavy (arguably “MTP-heaviest”), with the likes of Elvis, Charm, Jed, Ren, and Iman, and some others have FC status with me. The Jasmin MTP boys alone contributed much “corniness” to my life, so I psyched myself to tolerate all the one-liners (from one-liner land) that will come about.

Apparently, the Camia-Jasmin pairing was not meant to happen. Instead of four buses, there were five, which should be good news, since the buses won’t be as cramped. However, this meant also that some sections will have to be divided and distributed. Fortunately, Camia wasn’t picked, probably because only 21 were going anyway. Dahlia wasn’t as lucky, for half of the class will ride in Bus 4 with Camia while the other half will ride another bus. Dahlia isn’t part of ARCI too, but like Jasmin, Dahlia is MTP-laden, with Kristina (MSK), Nathan (double N), Rain, Lordom, Lance (CTK), and Stephen (STPN) in the line-up, so I know them somehow. Apparently, Jasmin and Dahlia math enthusiasts comprise half of the MTP 2 roster.

Oh, a little trivia. In the past years, I was assigned to be in the same bus as Jasmin 07 and Jasmin 08, and of course Jasmin Hipons 09 was my advisory class, so I rode with them as well. If the original Camia-Jasmin 2010 pairing pushed through, haha, it seems I’m destined to be with the Jasmin class in the field trip of any batch.

The batch was supposed to assemble by 5:15, and leave the school by 5:45 AM. Some students are exchanging gifts since it’s the last school day of the year. TKC students even gave me their TKCTKC (Thy Kingdom Camia’s Terrific Kris-kringle for Christmas) gifts to me, meant for their “secret” recipients, even in the bus. Juan and I tried to teach the new “sexyback” moves (inspired by the dance steps we gathered while watching the Paskorus finals), but it’s just way hilarious. The teachers were briefed for the days activities, and off we went to Laguna.

I was with Ma’am Annelle, Sir Petri, and Ma’am Monix in the front rows of Bus 4. We were joined by three Lakbay guides: Kuya McCoy (the main guy), Kuya Gitchu, and Kuya Dave. This is the first outbound I’ve been which isn’t jam-packed: the aisle seats were almost empty. Ma’am Monix lent a DVD copy of some movie about a swordsman and a princess (I forgot the title). Oh, this is also the first outbound wherein the Lakbay Kalikasan guides didn’t do much environmental talking in front. I was actually surprised that they were the ones who asked who among us brought DVDs instead of giving lectures. This were for the better in my opinion; in general, students do not like straight classroom-like stuff, especially if they already know the topics discussed.

The buses made the first stopover in Petron, and the kids ate breakfast and made kulit (of course). Most were in McDo or Petron Treats, and some just couldn’t resist Starbucks. Bus 4 had to make a second stopover, this time to fetch three students somewhere in the Laguna highway. Apparently, the Lakbay guide who was instructed fell asleep, so he wasn’t able to relay the instructions to the bus driver and therefore, we failed to stop at the specific area. The bus halted for a time as the Lakbay guides fetched two Dahlia students and one from Adelfa (Jil). Three sections represented in one bus.

The field trip was billed “Seven Lakes,” but in real life, only five can be visited. But since the Outbound also serves as the batch Christmas Party in the afternoon, there will even be less lakes. The first lake required some hiking before being reached, which was harder, since there’s light rain pouring. Which meant a more muddy trekking experience. Good thing I decided to wear my reliable Mojo sandals (instead of rubber shoes) which I bought when I was in first year college (apparently, Mojo is a brand and not a common name). They take less time to clean, and I actually don’t have a pair of rubber shoes. I’m not really an outdoor person, but I enjoyed the long walk. The students and teachers were asked to “traverse” the lake on narrow bamboo rafts, which required balance. John Paul volunteered on something which required measuring the depth of the lake on the raft. Surprisingly, it was quite deep considering its nearness to the shore; the rope’s length was probably more than double JP’s height. Afterwards, Tei was to dip a big litmus paper to check the lake’s pH level. There was no paper when he raised his hand from the water, and the group was entertained. Some people were just going through the motions of listening. Mia and Athena were having fun taking pictures, and I joined them as well. Before trekking back to the bus, the students needed to count their number of steps given a certain rope length, the purpose of which is vague to me (well, I was at the back of the pack, so I couldn’t totally hear what the guides were saying).

Back on the bus, Ma’am Annelle told me she already joined a trip that went in the same place, that’s why she isn’t coming with the group. She warned me that the second lake’s walking is way harder, and she was right. The guides had all the reasons to prohibit those from wearing slippers (but Portia went, anyway). One of the straps of the sandals of Ma’am Monix snapped, but she was innovative enough to continue; she used hair bands to hold things together.

The second lake was the highlight of the morning activity. The kids had water activities like tug of war, and of course, the classic basaan. I was with sort-of-trek-buddy Josh who wouldn’t want to get wet. I know I will be wet eventually, since it’s just way more fun if a teacher is “attacked” and I wouldn’t disappoint TKC on this, so I just delayed it as long as I could (playing pakipot). Jami acted as my shield, but he simply isn’t enough; he’s a little negligent of his tasks. And then they attacked, so I just let Mia and Zarra document the moment. Oh, Justine had a really fun “wet look” moment as well.

The kids were to travel the middle of the lake riding a wider bamboo raft, and they were divided in groups given the raft’s capacity and the availability of life vests. I was under the impression, from observing the previous groups, that there was an environmental lecture while the raft was moving slowly. I thought it was perfect scenario, romantic even. Well, the kids just waded in the first part, and were asked to dip while holding on the raft while going back. Mia, Zarra, Aveline, and Ianne didn’t do the second part.

Going back to the bus was harder. I was able to clean myself in the water, and the mud simply returned after. The sandal straps of Ma’am Monix were completely destroyed this time. Trekking, I learned, entails the mastery of momentum. There were times that I almost slipped because of, well, the mud. I was chatting with one of the guides, and he verified that Mojo was the best brand of choice; in fact, the Lakbay Kalikasan people all have Mojo sandals since they were sponsored (well he could have said that Mojo is the best since they were sponsored by the brand, but I believe that they wanted to be sponsored because they think it’s a durable brand). I thought the guide were leading us to a place where we can wash our share of mud, so Josh and I became a bit excited, only to find out we were led to the bus. We felt more dugyot. I suppose we – Ma’am Monix, Aaron, Josh, and I – delayed the whole itinerary since we were the last ones to reach the bus. Haha.

The kids were wet and hungry, so that made the trip to the resort longer. Once there, I attempted to wash myself, but the first faucet I used was a weak water source. So I ate lunch all dirty. The kids were seated in round tables, and the teachers were in a nearby separate place. Some kids started changing clothes, and soon the program started, so I wasn’t able to change, but at least after eating, I was able to spot a strong faucet, so at least I have lesser mud. There were spontaneous dance numbers, and David and Brandon’s band performed as well. I was seated with Portia, Elysse, Ianne, and Josh. Elysse was armed with corny jokes, so I had to rebutt every time. Perhaps the highlight of the afternoon is the raffle. If a person is not in the hall when s/he is called, the prize is forfeited. That made people leave less, I guess. Three TKC students won: Arvin had a Rubik’s cube, JP got a flash drive, and the biggest winner is David, who won for himself a brand-new Nokia XpressMusic phone.

There were group dynamics per class after the raffle. As Camia were doing the first task, I decided to change: gray cargo shorts and my favorite black Pisay shirt, plus black slippers. Oddly, nobody took notice of the long scar on my right leg, which was contrary to what I expected. Select students of TKC were tasked to transport a rod to the ground by passing it through fingers in rows. This needed precision, and it took them some time before they got the rhythm. I got myself busy by taking pictures.

The second activity was easier. A person should sit on a plank, and he needs to be wheeled – well, piped – a certain distance using pipes. Choosing JP to sit was no-brainer, and TKC fairly did well considering unflat surfaces. The third game required people to dip in the pool to fish out stones with specific letters (was it PSHS?). I became an instant baggage counter, holding people’s phones, watches, and other should-not-be-wet items. TKC weren’t as fast in this one, and also in the last activity. Eight people were to sit like ducks, and move like worms, and their chain shouldn’t be broken. This is hard, since their cadence never existed. After 10 years and dozens of pauses, they finally reached the endpoint. Hoorah!

The other sections were eating merienda already, so instead of lining up individually, I simply asked for food for everyone. There were a lot: doughnuts, mamons, plus junk foods. Strangely, I had to return most of the items I procured, and the parent in the counter were surprised of my act. While we were eating, ambulant vendors were selling random stuff. One was pushing her sales talk so much, she was unaware that I was not a student, so she ended up puzzled. Before riding the bus again, I tried to collect TKC for a class picture, to no avail. We just chatted while standing, until it was time to go home.

People were a bit tired already, so there’s less chaos going home. Which was a good thing, since the DVD of choice was School of Rock, starring the very talented Jack Black. I have never seen this film before even if I wanted to. I was able to watch a more recent film of his, The Pick of Destiny, which featured uber wacky songs. Watching School of Rock was such a delight, probably because of the hidden (?) rockstar in me, plus this qualifies as a teacher movie (well not in the normal way). There wasn’t a dull moment, and I particularly liked the scene where Jack Black was singing very simple Math questions to his students. Haha. Oh, the three students fetched somewhere earlier were dropped off in practically the same spot as before, and Marckie, Jethro, and Elysse were dropped off in Shell Mamplasan.

The buses made a last stopover in a gas station, a good number ate dinner already, some still couldn’t miss their caffeine shots, then we went for school. The guide was trading jokes and brain twisters to the willing audience. I was texting TKC regarding the class Christmas party on Wednesday. At last, we’re in Pisay.

I tried to wait until all TKC students were home before I go myself. I was getting a bit tired, so when everyone’s tucked already, I left school, rode a pedicab until Quezon Avenue, then rode a jeep towards Blumentritt. I needed to rest immediately, since I’m meeting Jasmin Hipons the next day, so straight to bed I went.

Sick Leave

2007-12-17T23:30:00.000+08:00

My weekly post is due yesterday, and I really have a lot to write about: the 2010 Outbound (Dec 10), Jasmin Rehipons (Dec 11), and the TKC SUPRISE! Party (Dec 12), among others. But I got terribly sick the day after (I’m still sick while I’m posting this). So maybe all the entries will have to wait, and this prolonged illness merits its own.

Happy Holidays as well; I’ll be in our home province by Christmas.

Here Comes The Long Break

2007-12-09T21:13:00.000+08:00

People, it seems, have a natural tendency to want what they do not currently have. As they say, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. For instance, students loathe schoolwork so much that they can’t wait to graduate, get a job, and earn for themselves. I entertained that thought a lot of times especially during hell weeks, but now that I’m teaching, I sometimes yearn to be that student again with the heavy books and unthinkable schedule. A class discussion can still progress given a handful of unprepared students, but never, I suppose, with a teacher who just pops in class and babbles his way through his allotted 50 minutes. Studying graduate mathematics while teaching somehow brought clarity to both perspectives.

The same argument holds true given school vacations or long weekends. I do not like long weekends; it makes me long for school (and students) more, but come Monday, I sometimes want to just breeze through the week. Even students share this sentiment. On the first few days of vacation, they perform every activity that was forbidden: sleep late, videogames, basketball, etc. But three days after, they long for school, not necessarily for the classes, but because of the people and the atmosphere.

Pisay might be legendary for the very early Christmas vacation that the students willingly savor, to the envy of their non-scholar friends from other schools. One of my Ateneo teachers inferred that Pisay students can afford to take the early break anyway because they are the generation’s intellectual crop, so lessening the school days isn’t an issue. This is one theory that we Pisay alumni might want to subscribe to, but every school actually has a prescribed number of school days to complete in accordance to the law, so we do not exactly have less days. We have the tendency to forget that Pisay starts early (maybe a case of minor selective amnesia for our “moral” benefit”), most of the time on June 1, so having a break in advance is just normal. Another reason for the early vacation is the PSHS-NCE Second Screening. Teachers are sent again all over the country to administer the exam, meaning if there were classes, some teachers will be absent for their lectures.

Somehow, I get lonely during long weekends, more so if it is the Christmas vacation already. I can’t explain comprehensively. Given that I always rooted for time to do all what I fancied, when that time comes, I just don’t get to maximize it. There’s this feeling of attachment to the routine that you are very comfortable doing already.

Another reason probably is that my birthday occurs in this long vacation. The Yuletide season indeed brings extra warmth and joy. On my birthday, well, I usually am happy, but there is the strange feeling of isolation. I see teachers of students celebrate their birthdays on school days, and I will never experience that. Good thing there’s technology nowadays, so I receive messages from well-wishers. And I used to dread the 2-in-1 gift: the curse of people being born in a certain date neighborhood before or after Christmas. You get your birthday present, but your siblings receive something as well. You never receive any during their birthdays. Haha.

I hope I can do whatever I can in the next few days, before I regret not enjoying.

Heavy Metal Without The Noise

2007-12-02T23:04:00.000+08:00

(This post started as my “eight random facts about myself” entry, but, as I was doing the list, I realized that I was expounding too much on the first one that I couldn’t think of seven other facts that has relatively the same “whoa” factor, so I discerned that the other seven facts can wait.)

I have titanium in my right leg. I have a huge scar to prove it, and the metal part of the leg can actually be felt if touched. It has been there (here?) since summer of 1998. So here’s the story: I was on my way down our flight of stairs, holding a baby, when suddenly I slipped on the last step. Automatically, I clutched the child closer to me, so my hands weren’t free to support myself. My whole weight were upon my right leg, which, unknown to us, gave way. There was pain. A lot of it. (The baby’s safe, by the way)

People in our house thought that my leg was just swollen, so we didn’t bother going to the orthopedic hospital until two days after, when I still couldn’t walk. The x-ray affirmed the pain: there was a fracture, and I fell apart that instant (no pun intended). Immobility scared me, and it had to begin immediately. My lower right limb – meaning the leg and thigh – was subject to casting. The cast was heavy of course. I needed help to be transported. My right knee couldn’t be bent, and any itching, even of the mildest degree, signalled disaster. The effect of being stuck in one place was obvious. After some days, I could already reach my knee, because I was getting thin and the cast is becoming too large for my thigh. Which is good, scratching-wise.

We had to wait two weeks (I think) before we return to the hospital, hoping that the fractured bones will re-fuse. (Removing casts is fun, with chainsaw-like apparatus to tear it apart). Apparently, what held the bones together for a time was the swelling, which is already gone by then, and the bones were even in a worse condition. Casting alone couldn’t do the trick. A surgery had to take place, and metal has to be put in place (After the check-up, the new cast was only knee high, probably as a consolation). Days after, I was admitted at the orthopedic ward of a public hospital. This immersion of sorts somehow opened me to the realities of life (which deserves a future article also).

My operation day was the exact day of our enrolment in Pisay. I was rolled into the operating room early in the morning after injecting sedating chemicals through my shoulder. I never liked injections up to the present. So imagine the horror of injection – through my spine. Thrice. It was the most painful sensation that I have ever felt. I had to lie in a fetal position so that the needle will find it easier to find that unlucky spot. But I’m just human: I uncoil the moment I feel the syringe, and the nurse will scold me, “Ayan! Nabali na naman yung karayom!” I needed three shots. They gave me six, counting the unsuccessful tries. Six. Three was already a lot. But I had six. It took some time before I was put to sleep by the earlier sleep-inducing shots.

Waking up in the recovery room was a relief: wow, the task was already finished, although the anaesthesia was slowly running thin. I was soon wheeled back in my ward bed. Days after, the orthopedic doctors made their rounds, and they showed me the film of my new and improved limb: titanium occupied considerable space there. They said that removing the metal (after the bones fused) was optional. Hmmm. I hope they were correct, for I haven’t had it removed until now. Besides, spine injection is not my thing.

I had to miss the first fifteen days of school to recover from the surgery, and when I came back, I was sporting crutches (I practiced at home for this). And I needed help going up or down the stairs, or moving from building to building. Late classmates would walk with me so they wouldn’t be scolded by our teacher since they “accompanied” me transferring from one room to another. For a time, I was being referred to as “yung napilay.” Oddly, there were about three or four more students in a span of four months that utilized crutches as well. Somehow I started an accident trend. Soon, the ramp in Pisay’s back lobby was constructed, and I claim that it’s because of me.

I can walk again without crutches by August. There was extra caution on my part since then. I never had a lot of physical activity before the accident, and there was even less after the recovery. Slowly, I was thinking of my metal leg less and less. Which should be, I think.

Probably the weirdest metal-related event occurred when I was in college already. The LRT Purple Line (running from Santolan to Recto) was newly open, though it was running until Cubao only, and my classmate and I was too eager to try it. A few people knew that the train’s already operational, so there were more security guards than commuters. As the mandatory check-up was going on, the metal detector emitted noise while it was on me. The guard asked me to remove my shoe, but the same thing happened. He was now asking me to pull my pants up, and only then did I remember about my titanium; it never beeped before in the malls. Perhaps security was using cutting-edge technology to foil terroristic acts. Everyone had a good laugh.

There were times that I wished the accident never happened to me (but of course; who would want such a thing). All the wasted time, the financial aspect, and the physical pain was just too much to bear. But after going through the whole process, aside from an extra piece of sturdy solid, I gained a lot of life experiences, constantly reminded by this (life) long scar.

For Babies, It’s A (S)Mall World

2007-11-25T22:50:00.000+08:00

We are a mall generation. Malling really wasn’t an attraction to me back when I was a student; I did not have much disposable money that I somehow enjoy at present. Also, it seems there is an Amazing Race going on, with Henry Sy, John Gokongwei, and the Ayalas as the major fierce competitors. The goal is to make their respective malls as near to each major area as possible. The nearest SM Mall to our house used to be SM Centerpoint (Sta. Mesa), then it became SM City Manila, and now it’s SM City San Lazaro (well, at least as of the time I posted this entry). As a Pisay student, we used to walk towards SM City North EDSA when hailing cabs proved to be futile. Now, walking to TriNoma will save some precious minutes. Hindi na tao ang lumalapit sa mall; mall na ang lumalapit sa tao.

This mall phenomenon (or craze, or whatever label fits) is very understandable. The establishments are providing the people not only what they need, but also what they fancy. They provide the people with dozens of fastfood chains and restaurants, clothing / shoe / accessories / appliance / technology stalls, bookstores, music stores, beauty salons / barber shops, video arcades, supermarkets, and of course, movie theaters. But the list above is very much, uhm, basic. Each mall should also have the following: 1) drugstores (you never know when you will need that tablet); 2) videoke bars (to unleash the singer in you); 3) shoe shine and repair with key duplication on the side; 4) bayad centers (for all your bills – electricity, water, telephone, etc); 5) banks / ATM machines (to spend money, you should have a place to procure it in the first place); 6) lottery outlets (to fund your much-needed shopping spree); 7) e-load / prepaid cards booth; 8) massage parlors (malling can be that tiring, so you need to relax too); 9) driving license renewal booth; 10) airline tickets booth; 11) tutorial centers / IT schools; 12) pet shops; 13) a big activity center (for the mall shows); 14) competing coffee shops (to get that planner); 15) altering services (for neither-here-nor-there dress sizes); 16) medical / dental services; 17) photo studios (for the barkada pics); 18) gyms (to flex those muscles); 19) K-9 dogs (to supplement the metal detectors); 20) men painted in silver, posing as statues; 21) intricate waterfalls; and 22) [put your need here, they will provide it].

Sometimes, I ponder if the malls are just doing too much to attract customers and potential spenders. On one hand, the ease that a person will get from all the services he/she can avail of is really a great deal of relief; instead of going from one place to another, all you need to do is go to the nearest mall to accomplish all of your errands, all the while enjoying your ice cream cone. On the other, capturing their continually expanding target markets is an endless pursuit. Now you do not have to rush your shopping to fulfill your Sunday obligation. You just occupy one monobloc chair in while waiting for Father to take center stage.

But my personal ire goes to the parents who bring their babies in the said establishments. Not the toddlers, although they too can provide an unwanted scene: imagine that child who won’t leave the arcade or the toy store and will summon all his strength and vocal shrieking powers to make his point clear, complete with teleserye tears and lie-on-the-floor antics. I’m referring to babies that are still very fragile. I wonder how they enjoy being brought out when a good percentage of them still couldn’t open their eyes. In my opinion, if the couple really wants to hang out or to do their weekly window shopping, they should leave their offspring at home, where he is better off. Less pollution, less germs, less chance for disasters.

I also am curious as to how the noise and organized chaos around them permeate their brains subliminally. Malling might have been forced into our subconscious. On days I frequent my coffee shop of choice (checking papers), there would be families in nearby tables or couches, and yes, grade schoolers are enjoying their ice-blended coffee drinks, as if every kid is exposed to that. Wow, they are born into it. In contrast, I had my first taste of frappucino when I was in college already. The same argument will hold true for the very young mallrats.

Still, the most annoying for me would be the sight of empty strollers, especially on escalators. My mind instantly entertains the idea that the baby has been plucked from the cart by a stranger while mommy is deciding which color of dress suits her shoes better. Apparently, the child gets tired staying there too, so they have to be carried from time to time. But please, I hope these parents find time to fold their strollers so as not to alarm the paranoid part of the populace.

The malls are really expanding their target markets to include the very young. They have indirect purchasing power: children that nag their parents for the latest trendy (and hopefully lead-free) toy usually succeed, provided they do their part of the barter (better grades, making mano to lola once they get home, and others). Fastfood chains have their kiddie meals. Barber shops solely for kids are emerging; even spas have specialized “kiddie” versions (a more expensive touch therapy). Of late, there are baby counters, the human version of baggage counters. If you want to enjoy your mall weekend without attending to your child, you may opt to leave them at these places. They can hop around all they want (the setting usually resembles a playground), and there are in-house yayas (or teachers) provided. These toddlers, upon observation, are conspicuously enjoying; some even have a hard time leaving the said places. They might exclaim, “my parents really love me; I love this place,” to which one can reply, “yes, they do, but they also love to do things without you.” Of course, couples have various valid reasons on leaving their children, but you get my point. The mall might – no, is – not the best place for babies who still need their vital nutrients.

If there will be a mother freaking out because her baby was snatched from her stroller, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.

Equivalence Relations

2007-11-18T22:58:00.000+08:00

Probably one of the lessons in Mathematics possessing obscure importance is equivalence relations. Fundamentally, an equivalence relation must satisfy three properties: reflexivity, symmetry, and transitivity. Practice makes perfect, so they say, and I guess this is true also in proving that a certain relation satisfies the RST properties. Let’s take on an easy one first: congruent segments. By definition, two segments are congruent if they have the same length.

Claim: Congruence between segments is an equivalence relation.

Reflexivity: any segment is congruent to itself.
This is trivially true, since a segment can only have one measure.

Symmetry: if segment AB is congruent to segment MN, then segment MN is congruent to segment AB.
Again true, since, if AB=MN, then MN=AB by properties of real numbers, and we convert back again to the congruence statement.

Transitivity: if segment AB is congruent to segment MN, and segment MN is congruent to segment XY, then segment AB is congruent to segment XY.
From the two given statements, AB=MN, and MN=XY, so that we can add the left-hand side and right-hand sides of the equations, then cancel MN, then convert back to the congruence statement.

That was rather easy; in fact, proving the same for congruence between angles, congruence between triangles, similarity between triangles, and proportionality of sequences would not take much time, as long as the definitions are clear. Actually, it is more exciting to prove that something is not an equivalence relation. This exercise also invites the person to summon Always-Sometimes-Never powers.

Show: Perpendicularity of lines is not an equivalence relation.

Reflexivity: a line is perpendicular to itself.
Never true. This statement doesn’t make any sense, since a right angle needs to be formed. We can stop right now in our exercise, since an equivalence relation must satisfy all three properties. But let’s still see inspect the other two properties.

Symmetry: if line A is perpendicular to line B, then line B is perpendicular to line A.
Always true.

Transitivity: if line A is perpendicular to line B, and line B is perpendicular to line C, then line A is perpendicular to line C.
This statement is tricky. A and C will never be perpendicular – if there is an additional given that all three lines are coplanar. However, the three lines can be arranged in space so as to satisfy the transitivity statement: they may represent the x, y, and z axes of three-dimensional analytic geometry (or much simpler, the lines containing three edges of a cube sharing a common vertex). Thus, the statement is sometimes true; our two possibilities are enough basis.
[Warning: the transitivity statement above can be restated so as the answer is “never”]

We now move on to equivalence relations applied in “real-life” situations (I put the words “real life” in quotation marks since I find it hard to stomach that not everyone considers Math as real life. Oops haha). Let’s try if we can have similar assessments to other non-Math relations.

Prove/disprove: Being siblings is an equivalence relation.

Reflexivity: any person is a sibling of himself/herself.
Never true, by definition.

Symmetry: if A is a sibling of B, then B is a sibling of A.
Always true.

Transitivity: if A is a sibling of B, and B is a sibling of C, then A is a sibling of C.
Always true. However, if the definition of a sibling is tweaked so as to allow half-brothers and half-sisters, we will have a new answer.

Prove/disprove: Being cousins is an equivalence relation.

Reflexivity: any person is a cousin of himself/herself.
Never true.

Symmetry: if A is a cousin of B, then B is a cousin of A.
Always true.

Transitivity: if A is a cousin of B, and B is a cousin of C, then A is a cousin of C.
This allows for the possibility that A and C are siblings, making them non-cousins. A and C may also be totally unrelated, if they are cousins of B on different parental sides (thus the term “pinsan ng pinsan”). But A, B, and C may all come from the second generation of actual siblings, so the statement is sometimes true.

Prove/disprove: Being a “better half” is an equivalence relation. (for purposes of clarity, we limit our domain to married people)

Reflexivity: any person is the better half of himself/herself.
Never true.

Symmetry: if A is the better half of B, then B is the better half of A.
Always true. Probably A and B may argue that, if both of them are better halves, then what’s the use of using “better”?

Transitivity: if A is the better half of B, and B is the better half of C, then A is the better half of C.
Never true. It would take a totally strange society that will allow the statement to be possible.

Prove/disprove: Being a best friend is an equivalence relation.

Reflexivity: any person is the best friend of himself/herself.
In my opinion, intrapersonal skills are very important, if not mandatory, but I guess we can have a definition to make the statement never true. Think Johari’s window.

(Let’s skip symmetry first)
Transitivity: if A is the best friend of B, and B is the best friend of C, then A is the best friend of C.
Strictly speaking, the statement should never be true if “best” implies only one. This usually happens in an intimate circle of friends (barkada). But probably to make it a “sometimes” statement, all the “the’s” should be replaced with “a’s”. It might be pointless to use the word “best” if it will not refer to an upper bound, and maybe “better fiends” will be a more appropriate terms. But we are allowed to make our own definitions by now, and you can have a best friend from childhood, high school, college, choir, and so on.

Symmetry: if A is the best friend of B, then B is the best friend of A.
Surprisingly, this is not always true (think “A Separate Peace”). Although most best friends-ship are mutual, there might be some that can be hard to fathom. Though settling the question is not as important as the friendship.

If you have found that one best friend, congratulations.

Routine 3

2007-11-11T21:42:00.000+08:00

You proceed with your afternoon classes. You have always wished that all your classes are set in the morning, but the midshift is the best you can get. Somehow, the heat can be unnerving, but you disregard the discomfort. Finally, your classes are done.

You wash your hands again; you have accumulated chalkdust all over. You remove the powder on your black pants, and your hair looks like it was attacked by the dandruff monster. You clean yourself up, and you work again.

Even if you can technically go home already, you stay, since MTP is scheduled after classes. So, while waiting for your trainees, you check more papers. You notice that you used to be very fast in checking, but now you’re just fast. Your speed in checking is degrading every schoolyear; apparently you find something else to do. Checking, or correcting, papers is very tedious; it’s a good thing you adjusted pretty fast to this craft. You record the scores by alternating a black pen (for passing marks) and a red pen (for failing marks). You would want that you never shift to your red pen, but unfortunately, you use it, sometimes almost as often as the black one.

If you get hungry, you go to the cafeteria, either alone or with the other Math teachers. You chat with present and former students along the way. You try your best not to eat your food immediately; you will get hungry again by the time you’re back at the Math Unit, so you save your food for later.

You shift to your more comfortable shoes. You prepare the training materials – illustration boards, erasers, chalk, scratch paper, and the contest questions. Between 4:10 and 4:20, you bring your stuff inside either the Geom or Algeb Room (whichever room the junior/senior trainees will spare). You wait for your trainees. They come by section, place their bags on their assigned seats, then leave again, usually for the caf. This process will continue around four times, and they will settle just before you realize that more than fifteen minutes flew by that fast.

You proceed with the training. You are constantly amazed as how your prized talents perform on extreme time pressure even if they are not always serious. You share a laugh or two, even assigning them nicknames they abhor. After the Math mini-showdown, you ask some of them to stay to help in tallying the scores and in bringing back the training materials back to the Math Faculty Center.

You were exposed to more chalk, so you wash up again. You decide which things to bring at home, and wait if students will come up to consult. You chat again with your colleagues who are still working. When everyone’s ready, you go down the stairs. At the front lobby, some students will greet you; you greet back. You swipe your ID, and decide if you will go home immediately or not. If you have other papers to check, you usually do not go home directly, for the bed is just too tempting. On lighter days, you walk towards Quezon Avenue and ride the first of two jeepneys that will bring you home.

You rest after arriving, then proceed to the washroom to freshen up. After wearing comfy clothes, you watch what’s left of the nightly news. You wait for your cousin for dinner; you make it a point to eat with her. You share stories at the dinner table, even the most trivial ones. After eating, you get your cellular phone to send text messages to friends and students. If there is a class activity, you compose a group message for your homeroom class. It’s a good thing you always subscribe to unlimited message services. You contact students you need – for homeroom, geom, math training, or other matters. You are glad when they reply as soon as possible.

At around 9 PM, you start working. You usually end before midnight, then you set your alarm for the next day. The bulk of your take home work is still checking papers. Sometimes, you make an outline for tomorrow’s lesson (but you have already done this during the weekend). You are in constant texting with people. On very rare times, you call your friends using your landline phone, or they call you. Many of your friends are still in their respective offices past dinner, so they cannot afford to be too loud in conversing, or their bosses will notice. Most of the time, you are by your lonesome, with pad papers at hand. If you are in the mood, you try to be distracted by local TV. Otherwise, you lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of whatever.

You brush your teeth and get ready for bed. You switch off the lights. On tiring days, you fall asleep in an instant. On most days however, while searching for your comfortable position, you think about the day’s events. Another day has concluded, and you psyche yourself for tomorrow’s routine.

Routine 2

2007-11-04T21:53:00.000+08:00

You walk by the flagpole area. There would be times when you arrive early enough for the flag ceremony. You turn right, and then left, towards the machine that asks you to “enter your fingerprint” after swiping your ID. You usually give way to the other people who will swipe too, knowing that your shift starts at 9AM, and theirs probably started already. You are usually more than an hour early for your shift. You then read (or try to make sense of) the messages on the bulletin board, and see if any of the announcements will concern you or your students. On some days, you withdraw money from the Landbank ATM.

On days that you are early (before 7:30AM), you still encounter students in the front lobby, and each group will have its turn in saying “hi sir”. You respond by either nodding or smiling. Sometimes you do not respond at all, again due to your shy nature, or if there are other male teachers around (since they might be the “sir” they are referring to). Most of them will comment that you look like you are “bagong gising”. You conclude that you’re an expert in looking like such.

You turn to the stairs. Reaching the second floor, you will walk past the CISD and SSD, then walk up to the fourth floor. This has always been your path of choice, and more students pass by and greet. It’s harder to recognize the faces now, since the halls are badly lit. You check the Math Bulletin Board, if the things you posted are still intact. You proceed to the Math Faculty Center, where you spend most of your time.

You greet the teachers inside earlier than you, and you place your bag on your chair. You check if there are messages or other stuff placed on your table. You rest for about 10 minutes while chatting with people who still do not have a class. You turn on the Math Unit PC. You remove your commuting shoes, and place your feet inside your leather shoes. You look at your really worn out commuting shoes, plan to buy a new one, but postpone it since the shoes are still functioning (though already ugly) and you find it hard to let go (plus you’re extremely kuripot). You bring out your uniform for the day, and prepare your grooming stuff. You then proceed to the washroom, supposedly exclusive for male faculty, but there’s a good chance that a student is inside.

You wash your hands. On extremely polluted days, you wash your face again (if not, your happy spray will do). You change your clothes. You then fix your hair. Contrary to popular belief, you do not enjoy fixing yourself especially your hair. Students might be surprised to see a somehow unkempt you on weekends. Your hair is very unruly, and you need quite a strong product to keep it in place. If you had it your way, you would have your hair long, but your work doesn’t allow that. You also wanted to keep it really short, but you will be perpetually mistaken as a student. It takes time for you to be satisfied with your “sculpture”, knowing that the electric fans in the classroom will eventually ruin your creation.

While waiting for your classes, you continue chatting with Math colleagues, while doing schoolwork. You check quizzes, record scores, or prepare pad papers. Sometimes you find time to check your mail. You look at your outline for today, and make mental notes for your lesson/activity for the day. These are prepared days, even weeks before. Teaching the same subject for four years makes you practically a master, and you constantly think of ways to give your lessons a new twist (and hope, your students notice). The second bell rings, you get chalk, and you enter your arena.

You greet the students, settle them, and proceed with your 45-minute show. Usually, you are surprised to hear the bell, but there will be days when the period seems to go on for two hours, combining your sleep-inducing time slot, the uncooperative weather, and the prevailing nonchalance towards your subject. Hence you tap your inner genius/wacko to give keep them on their toes. Super corny jokes are common nowadays, and apparently, you can keep up with them, ready with a rebuttal any time a new one pops up. You wonder who’s the cause of this “corny-ness,” but you’d like to think it’s not you.

Lunchtime. You wash you hands, and go down four floors. You encounter current and former students along the way. You have always wanted to have a ticker (or whatever you call it) to count how many times you are greeted in one day. One of your coteachers comment that you are suplado to them, but you think otherwise. You are just not as verbal in greeting. In this short time span, you are somehow updated on some of your former students, and you like that idea.

In the cafeteria, you usually find it hard which viand to choose, but you always settle for heavier meat; fish just won’ last that long digestion-wise. You sometimes buy a half-order of a vegetable, and occasionally, you pick a dessert. Before, you have your microwavable container and place half of your lunch there. This is multi-purpose: you are not as full when you get back at your afternoon classes, and you have something to eat if you get hungry. You also save money supposedly for your merienda. You are trying to revive this habit of yours, but there are days when you can eat a horse.

You are back in the Math Faculty Center, and talk with coteachers about anything. You head again towards the washroom, this time to brush your teeth. Before the bell for your class rings, you try to grab a nap on the sofa, but throwing funny stories with your click is just way more fun. You never noticed that half your day is done already.

*to be continued*

Routine

2007-10-28T23:27:00.000+08:00

You wake up. You switch off both the alarm and the electric fan, and you doze off again, after realizing your brother is off to work very early. You wake up, this time for real, 20 minutes after. You stretch, your version of an exercise. You always say you will perform a real exercise the next day. You get your towel and toiletries, and you see your mom is heading towards the washroom too. You again lightly argue who goes first. On the few times you give in (especially Fridays, when she needs to leave earlier because of the coding scheme), you try to eat breakfast without the appetite, knowing you have to eat since you will eventually get hungry. You stare at the fried something for the morning, usually hotdog, and scheme something for the next morning to get to the washroom way before your mom. You wonder why you always argue. You wonder why, on the many times you went ahead first, she always knocks and asks if you are done, and you always hold yourself back from sarcastically answering, “yes I am, but I really find it cool to hang out here inside for a while.” You always conclude that the “are you done?” question is really a rhetoric.

You get your turn. You try to adjust to the coldness of the water. You wonder what happens if water runs dry. Hmmm. You wash your hair, then your body, then your face. You sing, by the way. On some days, you have to shave your facial hair. You do not like these days. You spend extra time in the bathroom, and you risk wounding your face yet again. You ponder: if cats have retractable claws, why can’t men have retractable facial hair? You admit to yourself that you also like the effect of your stubbles, for it makes you look older and rough, for you will always be teased for looking like a student. And you picture all those students in the campus who look way older than you. If you switch clothes with them, outsiders won’t even notice.

You then proceed to dress up. You go up and down the stairs, always forgetting to procure everything you need at only one time. You have always wondered why there is a very large probability that your pair of socks will have a missing half. You find it hard too to dry your feet. You are now dressed up, with your “scratch” shirt on, while you fold your uniform into your bag. You pick the white one if it’s a Monday. It’s your only official uniform, and you remind yourself to count the number of times you will be kidded that you look like a student. On Tuesdays, you get the beige striped polo. You have two choices for blue Wednesdays, and two more for mocha Thursdays. You are amazed that having less polos to choose from makes dressing up faster. You look at the dozens of polo in hangers that you stopped using after following the color scheme, and you think that your brothers, who now use them, are very fortunate. Weirdly, you do not like no-uniform Fridays. Still, you have to choose one, and you never make it a point to prolong the choosing. You get your toothbrush, off to your breakfast (if you still haven’t eaten) you go.

You love brushing your teeth. You always recognize your teeth’s imperfection. You then go up again to get your bag, and take a look at the mirror one last time. You practically never used a comb since high school. You pop in your supplements, and you leave the house.

You walk around two blocks where the jeepney stops. Riding a tricycle is actually cheaper by two pesos, but you’ve had a lot of bad experience that trikes take second fiddle. The jeep/tricycle travels seven blocks, then you alight the vehicle. Waiting for the red light, you scan the headlines of the broadsheets sold by the ambulant vendor. You cross the street with the other commuters. Sometimes, you spot students wearing the Pisay uniform, but, true to your shy nature, you pretend you did not see them. You choose your jeep that will bring you to Agham Road, and sit on the left side, since the sun is on the other side, and you don’t want the extra heat. You reach for your makeshift coin container, and pay the exact amount. You have had encounters with drivers who overcharge. You place your bag on your lap, and entertain yourself until you reach your destination.

Sometimes, you chance upon a jeep playing FM radio. This is not always a good thing; the song choices are not that good, but you have to admit that you know the words to most of them. You like it better when there is the sound of silence, and you get to choose which songs will play in your mind. You even change the lyrics of some songs and try to finish it, and you try to present it to your class. Continually, you reach for the change of the other riders.

You are observant. You look at the new billboards. You try to find advertisemnts with wrong grammar. You look at the shoes of the other male commuters, and decide if you want a similar pair yourself. You know they are headed towards Makati, since they are in long-sleeved shirts. The shoes will be wiped by a streetchild in rags, who will eventually ask for spare change, and suddenly Smokey Mountain’s Paraiso is the background music. The pollution will make you feel taking a bath is useless. When there’s heavy traffic, you look at the plate numbers of the vehicles, and play your weird numbers game. You wonder if it will catch on to your students. You laugh.

You notice a new trend. By the time you reach EDSA, majority of the commuters will alight, and since EDSA is the traffic capital, the jeepneys will then travel in reverse until it reaches Hi-Top, and proceed to the underpass (you have coined this trip as Hi-Way Ibabaw/Ilalim). This means you will have to alight near the Lung Center and walk some meters towards Agham. You try not to mind; this is actually faster as compared to the jeepney maintaining its supposed route. You wait until the cars stop, and you cross the street. You have already memorized the sequence of the color changes of the traffic lights. You remember your high school friend who first told you that you will eventually memorize traffic light patterns without you noticing it. You watch out for those pesky drivers who thinks that traffic lights are mere suggestions.

You ride a pedicab. You have always wanted to walk to save six pesos daily, but you think that the Agham Toda caters only to a few customers, so you decide to be pedalled to school. You mention the word “Science,” and you know the driver will bring you to Pisay. You get your ID and lace from your wallet and bag, respectively, connect them, and place it around your neck. You reach for your “coin-tainer” and prepare six pesos. If you arrive earlier than usual, you will encounter the MMDA traffic enforcer in yellow. He helps students cross the street, and everytime he sees you, he will always (yes, always) ask if you were the celebrity he saw on TV last night. You give him an awkward smile, but he will hound you until you reach the Pisay gate, opened by the lady guard. The MMDA person will confirm to the lady guard if indeed it was you on TV, as you try to walk faster. Apparently, you have made their day already, but yours is just starting.

*to be continued*

First Gimik of the Kingdom 2

2007-10-21T23:39:00.000+08:00

What I liked about the arcade leg of the Camia gimmick was, this was the only part wherein I didn’t have to shell out money, which should always be a good thing. At least four people had their reloadable Power Station cards with them, and they swipe it like there’s no tomorrow, and reload as if mom or dad would approve. And of course, I play for free (maybe me playing against them is such an honor).

Before we trooped to the cinema, we cramped ourselves in one of the karaoke booths, and we just had to choose crazy songs. This part was very vague; I couldn’t recall exactly what occurred (weah). But I heard the first performer got a perfect 100 for his rendition of a classic Ricky Martin song (in the absence of Timberlake’s), after which the room was filled with applause (this is the vague part). The second song was the standard Andrew E. hit (yes, the local rapper), to which everybody couldn’t relate, since the song prods the listener to find someone panget. The last song must have vocal acrobatics and insane range, so Bohemian Rhapsody it was. We had more pictures inside (since Justine, Elysse, and Ianne won’t join us for the movie), and rushed one floor up. We had about ten minutes to claim our reserved seats.

Of course, because of Murphy’s Law, there were seemingly scheduled unfortunate events to happen. Emil and Conrad were missing for a time (they went to the washroom), and some people had to buy snacks, so there was mild chaos (at least on my perspective, since I have the tickets), especially since the usherette reminded us that the last trailer was already being projected. So I have to stay by the doorside to distribute the tickets by subgroups, not minding who sits where. In this manner, every person will have his/her food, and I will be the last to enter.

Oddly, contrary to what the usherette said, there were more trailers on the screen. This frustrated some of us since we were in a hurry (and there were those who passed on buying food in order to watch the movie from the very beginning). Oh well. Making use of the light available, I then cut my doughnuts into cute but uncongruent halves, to be shared to all elevn of us. They were busy munching popcorn and other snacks.

Stardust is a nice movie feature. I did not know that this is a book adaptation, so I wouldn’t be able to make comparisons; I’m not good at that, in the first place. The story is very basic, but its treatment was very vivid, solid, and of course creative. Watching Stardust is probably fostering the child inside that looks forward to hearing tales of grandeur. The interpretation of a star being a two-fold persona/matter is very inventive. Utilizing the universal theme of love, the movie did not appear contorted in that respect. There was hardly a boring part; the development of the story is fast-paced and straightforward. On the negative side, there were too many editing problems, and the continuity director should have been more meticulous (especially on the prosthetics of Michelle Pfeiffer). The actors were good in general, and for a time, I forgot that it was the same Claire Danes who, allegedly, somehow spoke ill of our country many years ago (I never knew if this is verified). Every illogical scene (like when Tristan and the Star seem to chase the shattered glass instead of evading it) can always be forgiven, since this is fantasy.

Films with a comic nature of sorts always amuse me. I am a fan of European humor, or at least, the humor of European characters, since they almost always have sarcasm in their blood (in Music and Lyrics, Hugh Grant’s character was very hilarious). And sarcasm is something I utilize whenever needed, even to students. One of my favorite scenes was when the king was in his deathbed. I just had to master his laugh when one of his sons pushed another towards the window. Very sinister.

After Stardust, Camia had a new tag phrase, courtesy of Captain Shakespeare: Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! *clenched fist* The girls, by the way, had a picture taken with one of the robotic live mannequins in silver paint.

We, again, had a hard time choosing where to eat dinner (MYMP was playing nearby). We were supposed to eat at KFC, but, with the suggestion of Josh, we headed to Pho’Hoa instead. We… ate *some story deleted*. Since it was getting late, the people were leaving by subgroups, headlined by Justin, who literally vanished (Josh had a funny and believable short acting piece, mimicking him). If this was to go on, nobody will be left inside to pay the bill, and we will be banned in Eastwood.

I, together with JJ and neighbor Emil, hitched a ride with Mia until the Santolan station of LRT-2 (purple lane). Eventually, we were all home, tired but too happy. All good things come to an end.

I want to thank my natural accounting powers. I guess a gimmick is more fun (for the students) if settling individual bills is done days after. Yes, I did not give out a treat. I’m not that capable, and my birthday’s not coming soon.

Oh, I now know what gift I want in December. More people attending the next Thy Kingdom Camia event, and a babylon candle.

First Gimik of the Kingdom

2007-10-15T00:05:00.000+08:00

wiSaturday came. The date of my Algebraic Structures final exam. Since there were no classes the day before (last day of Ramadan), I had some time for studying, after resting. The exam was harder than I expected; I studied some parts lightly, only to encounter them again. The sad part is, the said questions are in our handouts, with complete solutions.

Good thing I’m going to meet Camia (or, those who were allowed to go plus those who really wanted to go) in the afternoon. This day is also the First Screening of PSHS-NCE. I had to beg off proctoring duties because of my exam in Ateneo, but little did I know that the finals for my other subject was moved on a weekday. I can still sign up as proctor even in the afternoon only, but all the slots were filled. So it means that I can have the free time with Camia.

It was perfect timing, I guess. Thy Kingdom Camia (well, every student probably) had piles of things to do and study for the last two weeks of the second quarter, and this Saturday was the first weekend where there is relatively nothing to do (Some Saturdays were even made school days), so they deserved a break. Plus, Camia placed second in Speech Choir, so the day will also serve as a celebration of sorts (maybe the 4th-place Tinikling finish should also be included). Plus, my semester is soon over. So to Eastwood we trooped.

I met up first with Emil, Josh, and JJ in Katipunan. We brought Cello’s doughnuts (we’re in Katipunan already, so I might as well buy some boxes). The others are in McDo Eastwood already: Aveline, Zarra, Elysse, Arvin, Ianne, Aldrich, and Justine. Mia arrived after us, then we transferred to Yellow Cab for lunch (I suppose the management of McDo encounters people who meet up in their place, then leave without eating, on a regular basis). Justin and Conrad were just in time for New York’s Finest. Some didn’t eat, since they ate lunch already, and busied themselves with card games. By the way, Elysse brought some brownies she said she baked herself.

I sort of dictated the plan: find a studio where we can have our pictures taken, then buy tickets for the movie, then Power Station (a must), then movie, then dinner. By the way, Conrad, Aveline, and JJ each had a very hilarious statements, the details of which I will leave out, since I’d love to live until I’m old. Since we weren’t successful in finding a studio, we just looked for a nice backdrop and we prepared our digicams. Nakatipid pa tuloy. Some of us were sucking jawbreakers, which Elysse bought for us, and I swear this candy is a choking hazard.

Next: the movie. It was a tough call: which movie to watch? Resident Evil, Kung Fu something, and No Reservations were interesting, but the choices were narrowed down to two: Stardust and Apat Dapat, Dapat Apat, a local film boasting of today’s top comediennes. Since I will be paying for the tickets (and they will pay me after), and most of them responded “kahit ano”, it was up to me then. Some of my students haven’t watched a local movie in a theater ever; this could be their first. And the thought of meeting up in Eastwood to watch Pokwang and Eugene Domingo is very thrilling, not to mention blackmail-friendly. And, to quote Robert de Niro’s character, our/their reputations, which took so long to build, might be destroyed in a snap.

So Stardust it was. (Though I joked, and some believed, that it was the local movie we were watching.)

Next came the exciting part: Power Station. I wasn’t exposed to arcade gaming as a child, so I’m practically an amateur in this arena. For the record, combining Jasmin 09 and Camia 2010, I am unbeatable in air hockey – in Timezone. Somehow, the same is not true in Power Station: I am winless in the three-puck play version. I really wonder why, since three pucks at a time never bothered me. Then the realization: the goals in Eastwood are wider, so my defense strategy is not working. JJ beat me by two points, but Josh beat him. Josh insists he, in effect, beat me by transitivity, but that is a big contradiction, since air hockey is not an equivalence relation. By the way, JJ and I teamed up against Emil and Conrad, to no avail. My losing streak continued.

Josh and I weren’t able to settle our score in air hockey, so to Dance Maniax we went. Hah! I beat him by millions of points (…), so Josh, JJ, and I are even – for now. Eventually, JJ and the girls “danced” as well.

Aldrich asked me to play Time Crisis, and I was no match to his gun skills. I was having a hard time to reload; Justin was a better partner to Aldrich. Conrad, on the other hand, played the rockstar game, and he positioned his guitar vertically, so he doesn’t have to do the showtime move. Harhar. Arvin was beaten by Zarra in racing (Zarra is a driving menace). This racing game is fun: you can transform the wheels of your opponents in cubic form. Justin and Conrad tried driving too. Justine had Emil in hand in playing a mathematically-inclined game. Elysse and Ianne played some hoops.

So much can be done in 90 minutes.

*to be continued*

My Days Are Numbered

2007-10-07T22:30:00.000+08:00

I don’t know when I started being fascinated with Mathematics. I can still recall a quiz in kindergarten wherein we were asked to do three addition items, and three subtraction items. Addition was easy, with the help of fingers. However, I was stumped with the second part. Since I honestly do not recognize the operation, I just made the subtrahend as the answer. I got the first one: 6 – 3 = 3, but the two others are wrong (like 9 – 4 = 4).

As a grade schooler in Lourdes School of Quezon City, I treated Math just like any other subject. Apparently, it was my teachers who took notice of what I can do. Starting Grade 3, I became one of Lourdes QC’s MTAP contestants. It was always tough, every school year, battling with the Chinese schools, who end up being champs almost always (trivia: Math majors will recognize the phrase “almost always” since it is used in higher Math). I think the effect of being selected as a school representative for Math prompted me to elevate it as my favorite subject; the converse (I like Math, therefore I will try to make it as a contestant) wasn’t the case.

As a high schooler in PSHS, knowing that the generation’s best will be my classmates, I had low expectations for myself in terms of being a contestant for the school. Somehow, my Math 1 teacher, Ma’am Helen Salac, took notice of what I can do (but what her “basis” is, I wouldn’t know) , so (I think) she recommended me to Ms. Banjo Bautista, then Pisay’s Math coach, and it snowballed from there on. (Coming back to Pisay to coach the new set of marks a full circle) In my last two years in Pisay, Sir Petri took over as our Math coach.

I was exposed to different topics in my Math subjects in Pisay, and that was when I realized that Mathematics is vast, and what I have learned so far is just a small (and to a certain extent, trivial) portion of it. Computations and arithmetic does not define Math at all, though they are very essential. Knowing the possible values of x is not as important as the solution accompanying the final answer. Math, then, is not just about speed, but also about elegance. Every statement in a proof should be side by side a fitting reason. It is no wonder eventually that I had BS Math as my course of choice.

As a college student in the Ateneo, the elegance part of Math took over, though this wasn’t always apparent to me and my blockmates, especially during hell weeks. Diversity came full blast too: Algebra, suddenly, became a mere tool, so that we will be equipped with the next courses to be served. There’s of course Calculus, taught in Math 5 in Pisay. We also had Abstract Algebra, where we learned that not commutativity is not always true in a given field. Linear Algebra focuses on matrices, its use in systems, and how they represent transformations. Real Analysis (no, there’s no “Fake Analysis”), summons calculus powers and analytic thinking. Ordinary Differential Equations was altogether different, but fascinating nonetheless, with its many visualizations. Actuarial and Financial Mathematics were offered as electives, and I took them both with excitement. Complex Analysis is about the algebra and calculus of complex numbers (a + bi), and many similar and contrasting results were discussed (we also had an oral exam in this subject). My favorite would have to be Discrete Mathematics, where counting techniques, combinatorics, recurrence relations, generating functions, Math logic, and graph theory arose. My interest in the subject made me excel too in my Probability class, and later on, Statistics. Of course I had a Geometry class in college, but we weren’t limited to Euclidean Geometry; we also discussed the hyperbolic, spherical, and affine kind. Another favorite is the Problem Solving Techniques class under Fr. Nebres. The aforementioned subjects, by the way, were scattered in my four-year stay, if you should ask.

I think I learned in high school how Math works, and I learned in college why Math works.

Still, the wonders on Math is evident in both the computational and conceptual perspectives. Recently, I shared to Thy Kingdom Camia one of my more nerdy Math games. When in traffic, I have the habit of looking at the plate numbers of passing vehicles. Standard plates contain three letters and three numbers. With the letters, I try to think of words (in English or Filipino) wherein the three letters appear in sequence. Given WRT, one cane think of write, warts, warranty, swerte, and so on. The numbers part is more exciting. I try to express the three-digit number as a sum of squares, and each square should only be used once. Thus, if the plate reads WRT 791, 791 should be expressed as 729 + 36 + 25 + 1 (the squares of 27, 6, 5, and 1, respectively). 467 can be expressed as 289 + 144 + 25 + 9 (the squares of 17, 12, 5, and 3, respectively). It is possible that a three-digit number can be expressed as a sum of unique squares in more than one way. Well, some of Camia became interested, but most were at best shocked and/or surprised, all the more when I said that the game should be played mentally, since you should try your best to find the sum before the vehicle leaves and another plate number is waiting to be decoded. More strange looks. Haha.

Number Theory (in which the little game above is categorized), to some, is useless and is relegated as just a series of exercises, but a certain field of Math can be around for centuries without apparent use, only to be very essential in the next. A fine example is cryptography, used by banks in security, and even the Internet. Two extremely large prime numbers are multiplied, and it (the product, an even larger number, but composite) serves as the code of protection. Only the makers of the code know the encoding key (big prime number 1) and the decoding key (big prime number 2). Before, the search for prime numbers is not considered important at all.

It took me very long to post a Math article just because I don’t know where to start. This entry isn’t even coherent. I have to admit Math figured prominently in my life (I deal with numbers on a daily basis), and I think it still will in the years to come. I hope too that it will, in yours.

A Letter For Myself

2007-09-30T23:12:00.000+08:00

March 16, 2001. My freshman year in the Ateneo was about to end. In our last English 14 meeting, our teacher, after summarizing what we have gone through the past five months, asked us to bring out pen and paper for one last writing activity: we have to write a letter addressed to ourselves. The letter should basically contain what we have learned throughout the semester, and to write what we feel that moment. After finishing our letters, she then gave each of us an envelope, and asked us to put our letters there, as well as to write our mailing addresses at the back. The letters will be sent to us after graduation, she informed us. Probably most of us forgot about the activity the week after, since the final barrage of exams already started.

Fast forward to the present. Last week, I woke up with a white envelope beside me (obviously someone wanted to give it to me, but the person fond me peacefully sleeping). No, it wasn’t another Landbank letter informing me of my available balance left. I looked at the back portion, and it took me about 5 seconds to recognize my own penmanship. This dumbfounded me for a moment, but, after some pondering, I realized that this might be the letter that our teacher promised to send. True enough, after opening, I found a back-to-back letter written in intermediate pad, written by and sent to myself. Before reading, I calculated how long I wrote it, and wow, the letter’s more than 6 years old. Then, I tried to recall the stuff I wrote, but I couldn’t remember a bit. Thrilled, that’s when I started reading.

I have to admit that I was disappointed about my letter’s content. Apparently, I did not take the exercise seriously. I think I assumed that my teacher would be reading the letters of the class, and this made me write sipsip comments for her. Also, the content of the letter is very exaggerated and sarcastic: I was wishing that the English block could take more classes together, when, in fact, I am not close to any of them. And I had to hold back nonexistent tears because of such “once-in-a-lifetime experience”. Wow. My letter is devoid of what I was really feeling back then.

On a positive note, there was unadulterated thrill before I opened the letter. I never felt that sensation in a long while. Also, it was fun to reminisce what happened to me in my freshman year, specifically in English, since my letter specified some events:

1) Our En11/12 teacher would ask a random person from the class to write one paragraph from his/her composition. After the student finished writing, he will then ask the rest of the class to edit the work. I was surprised (and relieved) that even my very fluent classmates had problems with their grammar and tenses. But I was most delighted when our works were made “tighter”: unnecessary phrases and metaphors were deleted to give way to simpler and more apt ones.

2) Our En 13 teacher made us read 8 novels – in one semester. Considering that I was a slow reader compared to the others, this was a nightmare for me. But of course, the rewards came later.

3) I had to do a small part in the play of our En 14 class. That was very unthinkable back then, since almost all the other actors were close friends already, and they can really act, while I was only volunteered for it since nobody else would. I played a priest with issues that I already forgot (I think gambling).

I am considering to write to myself again; I believe this is a healthy exercise. The letter from years ago can highlight the many changes that you have been through. An electronic version just wouldn’t do – it takes away some essential elements. Though I just can’t keep it in our home and read it five years after; it will guarantee a lesser experience, for the envelope’s sight will make you remember the stuff you wrote. Asking the post office to mail it to myself years after might only result to prolonged stares or laughter. Having someone to keep it for you might be the best alternative, provided that the person is very much trusted (and not a voyeur or a fledgling blackmailer), is still young and not forgetful, and can be traced when the time arises.

Past might be past, but we are equipped to go through them even for one last time.

The Philippines heart EY

2007-09-23T21:59:00.000+08:00

Last Friday at around 5:30 PM, after my Geometry classes and some math training matters, I trooped to Trinoma with Ma’am Joyce to watch the first of a series of shows of American Idol finalist Elliott Yamin at the Ayala Malls. I have marked the date September 21 months back, when I first read about the event on a local broadsheet. I secretly longed to watch him perform first-hand; I even wished that for some reason, he came across my blog and read my tribute to his rare talent - and he will give me exclusive backstage passes and signed CDs. Ironically, I was sporting my Fall Out Boy look, and some students were convinced I was going instead to Araneta to watch the band (I heard FOB’s show was sold out, so there was no chance for a last-minute switch).

I can say that I’m a fairly frequent Trinoma customer, so I was re-reminded about his arrival last week, when huge tarpaulin posters paraded the mall. I never told anyone about Elliott and his Philippine stint, save for close friends and co-fans, so I wasn’t pleased of the advertisement at first. I want as few people in the activity center as possible to increase the probability of minimizing the literal distance between us. But then, that’s just very self-serving; great talent should be showcased to a huge audience. So I had to face the fact that there might be shoving and slight chaos given a glimpse of the star.

Former Pisay classmate Patrick informed me that, earlier, he lined up to get free stubs for the show, but he wasn’t successful. The concierge started giving stubs at 10, and they were out of stubs by 10:45. It seems it’s obvious by now that I’m not the only Elliott fan in the city. So I aborted my plan to go to the mall by 3 PM.

When Ma’am Joyce and I arrived at the activity center, people were already positioned on the metal railings, immediately behind the still-empty seats. There was a table selling Elliott merchandise – CDs, posters, etc – and I almost bought an album if I had enough money. Which made me realize that, inasmuch as I’m a fan, there still are people more rabid than I am, those who had the CD when it first reached Philippine shores (as opposed to downloading the songs), those who memorized each line of each song already, those who voted for the said songs in MYX and requested them on the radio stations, and those willing to cut class or skip work just to try their luck with the stubs. Apparently, the members of the official Yamin fan club (Yaminoys, if I’m not mistaken), walked past the mall guards, probably after proving their identities. They made it a point to wear identical “I EY” shirts, which were sold exclusively at their yahoogroups, and they brought with them their own stylized tarpaulin. They represent the least upper bound of a certain non-empty set, while I’m just a mere upper bound.

Since the first floor spots are already marked as territories, we headed to level 3 for a balcony view. Incidentally, that’s where Pisay Bio teachers were waiting, including Dacs, someone who, like me, followed Elliott’s rise to fame. She informed us that Elliott visited the Bench store, and he went onstage already to do soundcheck. And that he muttered Filipino words like “salamat po” to the delight of the people. Since the show won’t start until 7, and we still have one hour of waiting to do, I joined them in sitting on the floor, and I managed to check some quizzes. I just stopped when other fans were targeting the same balcony view that we have.

Ten minutes before 7 PM, the railings were full of people, and I can’t concentrate on my QuadraPop cellphone game since some people were practically glued behind my back, so I have to do some harmless but obvious shoves. When the band members took their spots, the ladies started shrieking, which solidified by the time Elliott took his. He was clad in simple clothes, probably to highlight his no-hype voice. The girls beside me were shriek experts: it’s as if they were the ones cueing the crowd when the next set of shouting should be. If Elliott had a three-hour show, I would eventually partially deaf like him. My left ear was never exposed to this proximal high intensity that could catalyze a new wave of iceberg shrinking.

Dacs was quick to mention that the empty chairs were mocking us. We totally don’t get it: they lined up early to get stubs, and they will be late for the show. Well, the seats were more likely reserved for the sponsors who do not know what they were missing.

Elliott was still the same idol that we monitored; probably the only difference (aside from the curly locks and vulcanized teeth) is he’s performing meters away, which is a big deal. He mentioned that his Trinoma performance is his first show abroad. Wow, I’m part of (the footnotes of) Idol history. He was such a powerful presence. I only know two songs from his album, but the effect of the other songs were just as strong. I sometimes caught myself with an open mouth, in awe as to how this guy sings splendidly well. He started the show with his upbeat Movin’ On, and he ended with three popular songs: Wait For You, the smash hit; A Song For You, his AI audition song (or probably the song that started it all); and, when the audience clamored for more, he did Moody’s Mood For Love, a capella. When he took his exit, the multitudes trooped to level 1 for the meet and greet.

Ma’am Joyce and I settled at the Math teachers’ “extension office” in Trinoma to continue checking papers, after we greeted our friends in the same venue (some Pisay students were inside the restricted area). The Elliott experience had after effects: I will drop my red pen to mention superlatives for the singer. It was a fun moment to foster the fan in me this day.

I guess if you put your heart to where it should be, things will fall in the right places. I hope we can hear from Elliott for decades; as I mentioned earlier, his talent is of no hype. And if ever he returns again and I’m fortunate enough to have a free schedule, I hope the the two shriek experts would be miles away from me.

Walk This Way

2007-09-16T22:49:00.000+08:00

About 3 in the morning, I awoke to an unusual pain. My left leg was suffering cramps. The non-athlete that I am, I did not know what to do to lessen the suffering. I am not aware which position will cause relief. For about one whole minute, the solid feeling was there, and I almost shouted for help, but thinking about how our neighbors would react, I decided to find a remedy by myself, for myself. Probably the most normal thing to do was to massage the muscles affected, and it worked. Back to sleepland.

Looking back, I did walk a lot yesterday, more than the usual walk I do to get to school (Ateneo). Since September 15 is ACET day, I woke up earlier than usual, and decided to take the Cubao-LRT route than my Philcoa-UP routine. I walked a little over two blocks to ride a jeepney that will take me to España, then I crossed the street, then rode a Cubao jeepney. Afterwards, I headed to the Araneta Center-Cubao LRT station, and alighted the train when it stopped at the Katipunan station.

Other students riding the LRT would prefer walking for about 3 minutes from Aurora Boulevard until they reach the tricycle terminal near Mini-Stop Katipunan. From here on, they will just ride the trike displaying an Ateneo sticker and to their class. I however, am a big fan of walking (and saving my coins for something else). From Aurora Boulevard, I travelled by foot to Ateneo until I got to my classroom (a pitstop in a washroom is a must, for my sweat glands will again perform its niche).

I like to think that I am good enough in walking even with vehicles just inches by your side, since sidewalks are not always pedestrian-friendly. When “trapped” in between an approaching car and a parked one, I do not hesitate to contort my body and my bag to avoid collision (as opposed to just taking a few steps back). With this oh-so-useful talent, I can appreciate the establishments on my right. I don’t usually buy, but thinking about what they offer keeps me busy and makes me forget the agony of the feet (a pun I got from Thy Kingdom Camia’s Portia). Here are the more notable ones for me:

Mini-Stop offers Hot Loops doughnuts - not my favorite, but they are the most accessible, so they will do in cases of cravings – plus all the C2 flavors. Pan de Manila has a reasonably-priced Pesto Cheese Bread, perfect when reheated. Then there’s Craving’s; I only get to eat in this place when it’s someone’s treat. McDonald’s Katipunan will always be a group study haven, and it seems the manager is aware of this; the ambience is very conducive for reading.

Crossing the street, there’s Shakey’s, where some of the McDo customers park whenever there’s a shortage of space. I have yet to try their ice cream buffet. Beside the pizza parlor is Cantina, where soon-to-be-drunk dudes hangout. Starbucks accommodate the more sober clientele. Then everyone’s favorite, Jollibee is side by side National Bookstore, with two cannons at the entrance.

I then walked up the overpass, and as a matter of habit, I looked left and right and inspect Katipunan traffic. Then, while heading towards the other side, I will look at the FBR Building and check if an orange sign is still there. The orange sign is for Cello’s Doughnuts and Dips, my hands down favorite. After entering Gate 2.5 (affectionately called as such, since it is in between Gates 2 and 3), I walked first towards the library to return some books, then to the cafeteria to eat a waffle dog.

My Algebraic Structures teacher wasn’t around for my 9AM class, but she left us a seatwork, due on Wednesday. After trying to answer the items, I left Ateneo at about 10:30AM and headed to Rizal, but I had to be back by 1PM for my Modern Complex Analysis class. On the way back, I feared that ACET traffic will be in its full force, and true enough, vehicles in Katipunan are barely moving. So, again, I had to walk from Aurora to Ateneo (I bought siopao and a dougnut from Mini-Stop for my improvised lunch), this time faster, since it was already 12:55PM.

I arrived at my building at 1:10PM, but luckily, my professor isn’t around yet, so I wasn’t late and I was jubilant while eating my asado siopao. After more than three hours of reporting, I again needed to go back to Aurora to ride the LRT, then enter Gateway and proceed to MRT. This is also a long stretch, but commuters do not mind this already (I’m even updated on what’s going on in Araneta Coliseum). After buying my ticket, I alighted at North Avenue and entered Trinoma since I have matters to do. After that, I had to cross Mindanao Avenue to ride a Quiapo jeep, which I will alight to ride a Blumentritt jeep to reach home and get my rest.

It’s odd that my right leg isn’t hurting as much; as far as I remember, I use both legs alternately. Maybe I put more force with my left that with my right? I wouldn’t know.

Another mystery for mankind to solve.

One Ring To Rule Them All

2007-09-09T21:32:00.000+08:00

The cellular phone could have only been a trend. I almost dismissed it as another marketing triumph in the same league as hand sanitizers and iced coffee, in terms of redefining necessity. Yet it stayed as a necessity, not only because of the marketing savvy of Globe and Smart. It took a while before PLDT fixed their backlog problems, and pagers were useful in certain circumstances, but obviously lacking in a lot of aspects.

Going digital was a major move for the two telecommunications companies to capture the market. There were cases before wherein a subscriber’s bill is multiplied five-fold or even more, because some other people can access their numbers for some reason (their phones were cloned, so to speak). Also, the phone companies that produced the units – with Nokia at the forefront (at least in the late 90’s) – manufactured classier versions of the bulky phone (remember the extendable antenna). The color, size, and weight became not only necessary but sufficient criteria for some middle-class buyers.

Features probably precede the physical appearance of a phone in what a customer wants. Nowadays, a cellular phone is also a digital camera, a personal computer, a media player, a radio, even television is now mobile. This is on top of what is in a “regular” cellular menu: clock, stopwatch, calendar, alarm, calculator (some even have foreign exchange) and games. I, however, am not one who wishes for a phone with the abovementioned packages. I only need to things: an expansive phonebook memory (with every new batch of students comes a new set of phonebook dwellers) and a lot of space for the messages (I have kept important and striking messages for years already). I do not need IR, or Bluetooth, or GPRS, or 3G, but it might be harder and harder to find a unit with not one of the unneeded features.

There was a time when changing phone casings, logos, ringtones, and even the backlight were a big deal. An Identity needs to be established, and the cellular phone is the outlet of choice (probably the reason why teenagers won’t let go of their phones even when eating). Greenhills was (still is?) the haven. Actually, the trend persists up to the present: the downloading of games, ringback tunes (wherein something aside from a ringing tone is heard by the caller) , and (polytone) ringtones continue. The fact is, the combinations of the line carrier, the phone unit, and all the hundreds of features is a lot, but still is countably many. Finite. With roughly 45 million subscribers from all the networks (figure has no basis and is just an estimate) in the country, a person cannot personalize a phone. Or still, if ever there is a unique phone, the owner is still part of a greater Identity: that of The Cellular Phone User, someone who follows the dictates of society. Why, some people really treat the cellular phone as a status symbol. No wonder the cellular phone is still the top graduation gift.

My ate was the first to have a cellular phone in the family; she had a Nokia 6150 if I remember correctly. The rest of us had to share when our tita from Melbourne sent us her Panasonic unit she wasn’t using anymore. This was about eight years ago. We were really excited; my brother used to have only a pager. They hurriedly bought a SIM card in a mall (how cheap these are nowadays) and activated the phone. Even if sharing a number with my two brothers was a hassle, we nevertheless enjoyed the idea of connecting with our friends via current technology. We used to drop calls to our contacts, and tried our best to answer theirs, which will cost them eight pesos. We were also addicted to forwarded messages. I recall that SMS messages were free before, and then the free messages were limited to 150 starting October 1999, until
Eventually it wasn’t offered.

I had my own cellular phone around September 2001. It was supposed to be a grad gift, but I had no qualms in receiving it semesters after my actual marching from high school. I was also not particular with the brand and model, so I was elated to receive a Nokia 6210 Cyber Silver edition. It looked very stylish and elegant, and it was capable of – gasp – sorting messages into folders, a feature that I really liked. Haha, I was also amused of playing snakes without the border and with special fruits for bonus.

I miss my first phone. I never had “cool” monotones, or any logo or wallpaper. I never wanted to replace it, even with the onset of color phones, and it was still with me even after graduation (March 2004). My number then was the contact number I wrote in my resumes for job applications. So I was both mad and sad when I lost my first phone. It was May when my mother-side lola slipped and broke her femur; I’m done with college, and all my siblings had either a job or summer classes, so I was her hospital companion. I really didn’t mind; I will just look for a replacement if I had to go to Makati if there was a scheduled job interview. One morning, my phone wasn’t on the table where I usually put it. Maybe it was a nurse or a maintenance crew who got my phone. I was at fault too; I became too comfortable in the hospital room designed to look like a normal room in the house. I then realized two things: my sorted message folders are gone, and, more importantly, my contacts. The incident just had to happen while I’m looking for a job. Fortunately, my mother lent me her phone for the moment, and I eventually formalized things with Pisay.

My second phone is another gift from my mother; probably a late graduation gift, but more of a replacement for my 6210 so that I can return her Nokia 1100 already. Again, I didn’t dictate which phone I should get. I received a Sony Ericsson T230 around August 2004, a classic phone in my opinion, and this one’s in color. It has more features that I never maximized, but it has less space for messages. Through my years of teaching, this is the only phone I used, while my coteachers and students upgrade once I a while (some even have multiple units). Maybe I’m being exponentially thrifty. There were actually a lot of times when I could (or should) have bought a new unit. Unlike with my first phone, I was less careful with the second one. I dropped it approximately 80 times already, thrice from a double-deck bed, with full speed. This T230 is very sturdy, to which I can attest. It never collapsed or disintegrated, but was of course subject to minor scratchings.

I once dropped this phone face first, and the screen popped out, but it was still intact. I was too lazy to glue the screen back, so there it was, unpermanent. I misplaced the screen, and for months it looked like my phone was skeletal. When I finally found the screen in a bag compartment, I made sure to use epoxy on it.

There was another instance when the phone wouldn’t function anymore after yet another drop. After turning it off and on again, I know the phone is still functioning, but the screen is black. I realized I can manage calling or sending text messages, since I can imagine the menu without the need of a visual. I wonder how long this will go one. The next day, the LCD was working again, only to find out that, among the around 250 contacts in the phonebook, only 40 were accessible (for Jasmin Hipons, only Daryll and Jio were). There was a way to see the other numbers, so I had to copy each number by hand, and type the numbers everytime I need to contact the invisible people. It took about a month before the other contacts were again accessible, and again, I hushed all the people persuading me to buy a new unit.

There were no unhurdled problems with the phone, but the accompanying charger isn’t as indestructible. Probably squished by the books inside my bag, one of the small metal rods (I don’t know how it’s called) broke and became unattached. Part of the charger is already exposed; you can already see the microtechnology. However, skilled (or kuripot) as I am, I managed to find a way to charge the phone by attaching the rod at a certain angle. It was actually very dangerous: sometimes, the outlet will spark. Still, the day came when the technique couldn’t charge the phone already. I knew I had to buy a new one.

Last September 3, after our classes an some other matters, I trooped to the Sony Ericsson store in Trinoma with Ma’am Joyce and Sir Edgar. I realized that this will be the first time that I will buy a phone for myself, with my unit of choice. I did not dwell too long in choosing which unit; as long as it’s basic and cheap, then it’s an option. Preparing the paperwork actually took longer. So here with me now is my third phone, a black K510i. (I’m still not ditching the second; I will still have the charger fixed by a professional)

I hope this phone lasts for years also, like the first two. I hope also that I would still not depend too much on it (except for time telling, since I do not sport a watch). I didn’t buy immediately because I have to, but because I need to. I have to be contacted by a lot of people, and I need to contact people in return.

I have witnessed people who just can’t survive without clutching their phones and texting the night away, or those dying in vain just to here the phone ring. This technology has already dictated our needs, but its benefits cannot be denied as well. I just hope that we will still have good sense no matter what new features will come about in the years to come. And may we always remember that it is just a tool to serve our more relevant functions.

What's Cooking

2007-08-31T23:03:00.000+08:00

I happened to catch another Tagalized episode of Yakitate Ja-pan on local TV (apparently, I misplaced the title’s hyphen in a previous post), back when the students had a six-day weekend (well, five and a half, according to Thy Kingdom Camia’s Josh). Again, the episode didn’t fail to entertain. On a hotdog contest, a competitor tried to lure the judges by lavish proportions: scallop, crab, shrimp, and other seafood were cramped in the hotdog bun to make it more appetizing. Our hero’s friend, meanwhile, only had a plain-looking hotdog in a bun, but he eventually won, because of the concentrated flavor that his entry possessed. He said he had to do it in real life: since he hailed from a poor family, he had to improvise with vegetables and make them appear as cold cuts for his siblings. Tear. The episode was unsurprisingly wacky all throughout (food judging is always the fun part); even the American character pitted opposite our hero was voiced in typical Taglish with the exaggerated nuances.

Speaking of scallops, the seafood was featured in the only Iron Chef America episode I ever watched (in the same long weekend). The contest format is very exciting: two chefs (the iron chef and his challenger) are tasked to prepare five dishes in an hour, given the theme for the day. Wow, that’s roughly a dish every 12 minutes, and plating and presentation is also part of the criteria. Not only should they cook fast, but the food should appear as if prepared by a 5-star restaurant. Well, I suppose the contestants are professionals, or experienced in the culinary arts at the least. The challenger only came up with two dishes, whose intricate names indeed sound yummy (I believe food-naming is an art to attract potential eaters); the iron chef, with 5 savory dishes, ended up as a winner. I like to judge this show: eating yet-unknown food, and getting the chance to criticize. By the way, I was watching the show while eating breakfast; the usually tolerable hotdog and beef tapa seemed insufficient for about an hour.

It seems an uberlong weekend dedicated to food isn’t complete without a full-length feature. Hours after watching Iron Chef America, I went to Glorietta, hoping to catch Disney and Pixar’s Ratatouille, which is about to be pulled out already after weeks of release. I was about to settle for Surf’s Up already, but luckily, it is still showing in Greenbelt, so my college friend and I trooped the classier cinema.

Conjecture: the newer the animated film, the finer the graphics. Some scenes are too realistic: the Paris skyline, the buildings, and the rats, especially when the ceiling fell down and the irrational old maid aimed the shotgun at them. Given that I’m not too fond of pets, I am not too eager to taste any food prepared by any animal, let alone a rat. Near the end of the film, when the cooking crew turned their backs on Linguini and the rats formed an assembly line, I almost swore to prepare food by myself.

The film had its slow and uneventful parts, but the movie became more engaging when the two protagonists encountered each other. The feasibility of controlling motor skills by activating (or mutating?) follicle nerve endings might be an improbable Intel-worthy research venture, but, if any mad scientist will succeed, I hope the results will reach me. Wow, if a student falls asleep in class, I will just strategically pull his hair to make him do a dreaded seatwork. The possibilities are endless.

The film also featured a grim-looking food critique, whose approval is craved for by any restaurant. When he tasted the ratatouille (I never heard of this dish) that Little Chef prepared, he was transported back to his past, in a quaint home where he grew up, with his mother preparing food for him. This storytelling technique is often utilized in Yakitate Ja-pan, though implying that Pixar borrowed from the Japanese hit series (or any previous cartoon) is both baseless and unnecessary.

Still, Little Chef is amusing to watch when he is on a kitchen momentum. I wish we can be like him, in the sense that we find what we really want to do with our lives, and do whatever that is with passion and dedication.

Maybe anyone can cook, but a select few can cook well.

Storm's Up

2007-08-25T22:02:00.000+08:00

Weeks ago, the church urged the congregation to pray for rain. Oratio Imperata. The prolonged dry season is already affecting the farmers, and dams are in a critical level already. It seems there was too much prayer; storms entered the Philippine area of responsibility one after another.

Classes were disrupted. 5 school days were cancelled due to a certain typhoon, or at least the anticipation of one. Prevention is indeed at play, for there were days that were oddly un-stormly. Two consecutive Mondays will also extend the weekend of the students, in accordance with the new law regarding holiday economics.

I left my laptop at the Math Unit; I was also done with my grades and all my checking. Therefore, I had practically nothing to do. Even all my siblings were out; I’m the only soul who still gets the no-classes benefit, working in the premier high school of the country.

The premise seemed to promise boredom, to which I’m an expert. I can lie on the bed for hours catatonically. Fortunately, I borrowed a Coelho novel from Ma’am Dinah, and I remembered that I haven’t opened yet one birthday gift: two books written by engaging authors, given last December 2006. So I finished the Coelho novel first, intentionally flipping back, to prolong the time spent for reading.

Since the “vacation” took an unexpected extension, I randomly picked one birthday gift, tore out the plastic, slightly opened the room’s window to feel the cool (but potentially raging) wind outside, and plunged on the pillows for a good slow read. Coffee and doughnuts (from Cello’s) would have completed the scene.

I miss lazing around.

Straw Stories

2007-08-11T21:37:00.000+08:00

I had lunch one Saturday at the Ateneo cafeteria with Rob Roque (’07) ( I was done with my Algebraic Structures class; he just finished shooting his political party’s ad for the freshmen elections). We reserved our table by leaving our stuff on it, and got our food at the sizzling counter.

I kidded Rob for getting a drinking straw for his complimentary iced tea (this last statement should be hilarious in an esoteric way); a lot of environmentalists discourage the use of straw for drinks, including Lakbay Kalikasan (the group responsible for all the Pisay sophomore Outbound Activities the last three years), for straws contribute to non-biodegradable trash. Rob countered by saying that he avoids immediate contact with the liquid; the cold drink causes pangingilo for him, thus his need for a straw. I rebutted by saying that using straws (especially in fast-food chains) make me accident-prone. I once tipped my drink by its straw, and saving all the food and things on the table from the wetness is such an adrenaline moment. By not using straws, I am lessening the chances of minor disasters. “Ang negative naman ng paradigm,” Rob commented.

It seems a drinking straw is useful for a lot of reasons. Aside from Rob’s dilemma, drinking a cold drink directly by the rim might not be the optimum way to maximize taste. Since ice floats, the drink’s flavor is more diluted near the rim than the bottom of the cup; with a straw, a person sips a more concentrated drink that is considerably cold. Of course, practicality should also be considered. There are tall and slim glasses that require straws. Zagu products and the like dictate huge straws for the sago and other solid ingredients. However, drinks in tetra pack do not actually require straws, even though they give complimentary ones. One can easily cut along the flap or in the corner and gulp.

A drinking straw is also one of the simplest tools that exhibit a lot of Physics phenomena, specifically air pressure. I remember a simple experiment in grade school, wherein a student is challenged to drink using two straws simultaneously: one in the water-filled glass, the other outside the glass, exposed to the air. It will take a bionic man to accomplish this.

Probably my first straw encounter happened when my siblings and I buy Coke at the sari-sari store in front of our house. We do not want to leave a monetary deposit for the bottles, so we just ask the vendor to put our soft drinks in plastic (I have always wondered as a child how these vendors perfected the art of transferring soda from the bottle to the plastic while containing all the “bubbles” that results from the action). We then walk back to our house happily, each sipping with a straw. We sometimes tie up the opening of the plastic and bite the bottom, drinking dextrose-style.

We actually buy the Family Size Coke more often since this is less expensive. Wow, the joy of transferring the soda to your cup and letting the effervescence tickle your nose. Thus my rule: straw when plastic, no straw when cup (sorry, Rob). How I miss soft drinks in general; I stopped drinking more than two years ago (in an effort to eat more healthful foods).

I was also fond of collecting our used straws and connect them end to end (I just realized now that they were unwashed). The unlimited polygons (especially quadrilaterals) formed amazed me. But I will not attribute my fondness of Mathematics to this events, though it might have helped.

Straw dispensers are another story. The first time I saw them in Jollibee, I was struck with awe. I just had to get ten straws for myself, while the person at the counter tried to stop me, all the while smiling. Bright people never stop inventing cool stuff.

Rob and I finished our lunch, and we had to part ways. I hope he wins; Rob has a lot to offer Ateneo, as witnessed by the Pisay community. If indeed he does, Ateneo’s SOSE (School of Science and Engineering) can just sip and relax.

The Pisay Movie 2 (Or Our Inadvertently Long Trip to CCP)

2007-08-04T20:54:00.000+08:00

Making a movie about PSHS showcasing the iskolar ng bayan should be a big deal to the Main Campus. When school officials permitted the four batches (three on Friday, July 27) to watch the film right at CCP, I wasn’t surprised, even if it was the week before the first quarter periodic exams. I know that the class advisers will have to play a key role in this event, especially when I learned that the Batch 2010 PTA couldn’t provide buses for the sections. Apparently, the cost per student is around P250 for the transportation alone.

A student will just have to show up and watch Pisay (directed by Auraeus Solito; I misspelled his name in my previous post); the advisers, meanwhile, are in the thick of preparations even the week before the screening. Each homeroom class was surveyed if they were willing to watch and pay the ticket at a discounted price; all 30 Thy Kingdom Camia students said yes. Next came the reply slip and payment for the tickets. It’s a good thing that the class officers (Juan and Portia) took care of this one with my minimal intervention.

The biggest problem was the transportation. Batch 2010’s plan was carpooling, and as of Monday before the screening, Camia only has two vehicles. Even if there were enough cars already, monitoring all vehicles - if they are in the proper route, or if they are spared from any accident - is such a logistic nightmare. I have signified to my other sections (from Hello ARCI) that we might have to hitch a ride with them just in case we cannot find enough cars. Fortunately, Camia produced 6 cars by Thursday (courtesy of Kit, Aldrich, Aveline, Justine, Marckie, and last minute Josh).

Next came the vehicle designations. Who rides which car and with whom? Haha, I thoroughly enjoyed this part, to the point of spending too much time that I forgot to do my Abstract Algebra homework (bad, bad). This might be one of the finest real-life Operations Research example which imposes constraints and tasks the solver to maximize, in this case, space and fun. These are the constraints, some given, and some self-imposed:

1) Each vehicle owner should ride his/her vehicle. Easy.

2) Each vehicle should have at least one class officer or the adviser on board, as required by the batch adviser. With six officers plus me, this is still attainable, even if the set containing car owners and the set of class officers intersect. (sigh I miss Venn diagrams)

3) Kit’s Filipino 2 groupmates should stick with Kit. Apparently, Kit wanted to bring his groupmates to their house in Parañaque from CCP after the viewing. This means that we will have less cars heading back to Agham Road, so I might as well pack Kit’s van with his groupmates. However, Aldrich is a groupmate too, so that means two less cars for Camia! Well, I have to assign non-groupmates in their cars (who will ride other cars going back to Pisay) to satisfy the first two conditions.

4) Vehicle owners should have a say as to who they want to ride with. Well, with three more important concerns, the other car owners do not much options left in the end.

5) Spread less-space-consuming students evenly. Meaning: size matters.

6) Spread potentially rowdy boys evenly. From elementary Physics, a lot of external factors may cause potential energy to become kinetic energy.

7) Participating parents will have to be designated too. Parents (each a vehicle owner) expressed their intention to watch with the class. I didn’t anrticipate this, and since they owned the cars too, I simply assigned them to their respective cars and displaced some students (little did I know that they wanted to be together; they eventually agreed to my assignment).

Come Friday, the front lobby was swamped with students, mostly bagless, from the three batches. The sophomores were in the flagpole area, with yellow cloth distributed to each student for easy recognition, and yellow stickers on the windshields of carpool participants (for convoy purposes). This looked like a prelude to Family Day come September. After minutes of checking attendance and grouping by cars, each “team” headed to their respective vehicles. I assigned myself to C5, with Aldrich, David, and Conrad.

I was busy texting the officers in each car that I didn’t notice that we took the EDSA route to CCP (we were following car I2); all other Camia (and Ilang-ilang) vehicles took the faster España route. Of course all of them reached CCP way, way before we did as I anticipated, and told Juan to take over first. We were stuck in classic EDSA traffic, and when we were in busy Buendia, the time interval of class president Juan’s calls were becoming shorter and shorter; they were being told to line up already. Of course they were concerned about us, but they care for themselves too; all Camia tickets are with me (even those of parents)! It was really fun at first, since we do not have to suffer the long wait just like the others did, but the excitement was just too extreme. We lost sight of car I2 and saw them many minutes and stoplights after, and realized that Ilang-ilang tickets were also with them. It’s a good thing that the batch adviser just made a way for the students to enter without the tickets at hand.

When we were three right turns away from CCP, we then hit another problem: there were road barriers positioned such that we cannot alight the vehicles right in front of the theater. This is a super so-near-yet-so-far moment, and I know that the screening is about to start in a few minutes. So cars C5 and I2 were about to perform the three right turns again to CCP, when a speeding vehicle behind is honked its way past us. The driver is so much in a hurry this means only one thing: the car is from Pisay too. And true enough, it’s R6 from Rosal (as I remember it).

Sometimes when things couldn’t possibly get worse, they will. As R6 was about to make its second right turn, it collided with a motorcycle. In front of our very eyes, the bike wobbled, and the rider and its passengers were on the ground seconds after. Thankfully, there was no sight of blood or hurt people getting wild, only evil stares. Of course, running late is less important than the safety of the people riding R6 and the motorcycle riders, so we slowed down to check on them. Apparently, aside from the driver, only Mr. Espinas (Adelfa adviser) rode R6. He went to our car and asked us to go ahead while handing the Adelfa tickets. Wow: tickets of three sections were late.

So we proceeded on our photofinish journey. There indeed was no way to alight right in front of CCP, so we just walked a fairly long distance just to make the screening, under the blazing sun. Since we were late, we were accommodated in the balcony already. Seconds after we entered, the national anthem was played. Wow. We were very much on time (for the screening).

As expected, the Pisay crowd became restless and noisy during the film viewing: when the title was flashed onscreen with a nice shot of the flagpole area, when an extra turns out to be a friend, when matters discussed are actual class lessons, or when there will be an inside Pisay joke or comment. Solito was again present at the end, and he received a standing ovation. He acknowledged Shayne again, and asked the extras to join him onstage. Claps.

After the film, the sections again assembled at the lobby, and Camia had nice class pictures at the CCP stairs. I like class pictures. We were actually one of the last sections to leave CCP. Back in car C5 heading for Pisay, Aldrich, Conrad, and Jethro (traded for David) were soundly sleeping after having a few bites. My body was feeling tired too, but somehow, recalling what had happened hours earlier amused me. I learned that real-life (accident-free) adventures filled with adrenaline rush are very much welcome especially when the predictability of routine kills the fun already.

The sight of Agham Road signalled the end of today’s journey. I wish that, after watching the movie, the students realize the hope that they carry. And may each of them master the roads and sidestreets of Metro Manila.

The Pisay Movie

2007-07-29T21:32:00.000+08:00

Last July 21, some Pisay teachers watched the film Pisay, a 2007 Cinemalaya entry with Aureus Solito (Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros) at the helm. I looked forward to watching this movie for many reasons. I am a proud Pisay alumnus of Batch 2000 (best batch ever pero secret lang *bias*), and I seem to have gone full circle, returning to Pisay four years later to teach Math and experience Pisay at another level. I am interested as to how the movie will be treated, for there really is a complex Pisay culture, and there is just too many perspectives to consider. Moreover, I know my students will act as extras, and Shayne Fajutagana of Batch 2007 was cast as one of the leads.

Months ago, when Jayson, a Pisay batchmate, sent an e-group message about Solito’s plan to do the Pisay movie, I became really interested. I even told Jasmin Hipons (my first homeroom class) about it and told them jokingly to audition in Nagtahan (at the director’s house). Little did I know that the auditions will be brought to the Diliman campus, and dozens of students excitedly filled up forms and acted with a camera rolling. Hiring actual PSHS students to portray the definitive scholar actually makes sense; they might have to deliver lines that may be deemed too technical for some but is just everyday jargon in Pisay.

Assembly time was 2:00 PM at the front lobby. I went to Pisay from Ateneo, fresh (?) from my Algebraic Structures class. We rode the Pisay bus, along with the English Journalism class. It could be labelled the ultimate Pisay Movie experience: meeting up at the campus, riding the Pisay bus, then travelling towards the CCP Complex to watch the film. The airconditioning of the bus was at most inconsistent. It will stop functioning at seemingly random, but very conspicuous, time intervals, agitating a lot of passengers. But we just had to deal with it, just like Pisay students deal with a motherload of requirements, consecutive long exams side by side with looming deadlines.

At the CCP lobby, the lines were long and almost assuming a smoke diffusion pattern, but this was a non-factor at all. Familiar faces were at every corner: my classmates and batchmates, former students slash fresh alumni, and some notable people (including Jessica Zafra). The gathering could easily be mistaken for an alumni homecoming. It’s nice to see my friends again, and my ‘07 students too. There was something in the atmosphere, a certain Pisay collective, an intangible that makes me want to see the movie more. After minutes of waiting and picture taking, we were ushered in.

Each batch, each scholar has a story to tell, and Aureus opted to give the film a personal touch: the film was set in the 80s (he was from Batch ’86), at a time when the dictatorship is nearing its end. Characters of the movie are based on true accounts of his batchmates, and also of their more memorable teachers. The movie is aptly divided into four parts, from Freshman to Senior year, with 2 of the 8 leads as focus for every chapter. The movie was also interspersed with documentary material, like historic shots of Ninoy Aquino (no pun intended) and martial rule. The Pisay scholar is depicted in a holistic manner: all-encompassing and accurate in Math and the Sciences and its applications, creative and provocative in the humanities and arts, as well as pursuant and proactive in the social relevance aspect.

I wouldn’t know how a non-PSHS student will appreciate the seemingly nonchalant manner in which highly technical lines were delivered by the leads. There might also be the impression that our scholars are intellectually arrogant. But that’s how life is in Pisay: we actually don’t notice but our everyday jargon is very academic by standards even if mixed with humor.

The film has a lot of wonderful shots of the Pisay campus. A personal favorite is the scene where cadets were jogging while orange-red petals adorned the road. The opening aerial shot at the front lobby was also very chilling on my part. Sequences of the Junior year are very powerful, especially when the class report of Andy gives justice to Macliing Dulag’s heroism, while Liway (Shayne) had to flee the country for safety. The tween actors are very impressive, and I’m really glad that the likes of Eugene Domingo and Ama Quiambao (in a very short role) were included in the cast.

Outside the Main Theater, the crowd who lined up earlier were looking for their respective batchmates practically to say in unison “ang ganda!” and every positive remark imaginable. The photo sessions continued, with batchmates and former students. Food was served, and I could have rubbed elbows with the stars, but older people were busy chatting with them. The mood was very light and warm. I think Pisay pride got a notch higher. It was indeed a fun day.

With a brilliant film at hand, the PSHS scholar may now get the mainstream mileage it has always deserved (although I know this is not a concern at all). Every other school has always feared (but they wouldn’t admit publicly) competing with the PSHS delegation. Now, through the movie, the heart of the scholar is exposed. I hope that current Pisay scholars realize that the burden of proof is upon them, not only academically (for this is almost always a given) but socially also when the times call for it.

The bus ride to Pisay could have been labelled uncomfortable, but in this sea of life that flows, and after the CCP experience, it could easily be brushed aside.

Resurrection (?)

2007-06-03T11:46:00.000+08:00

Hala! Bagong schoolyear na and yet wala na talaga akong na-post... Hay. Ang dami nang nangyari, so baka futile isa-isahin.

I hope I'll find the time to post regularly. Ayan. Haha walang promises.

Good luck na lang sakin sa bagong schoolyear.

Excuse Letter Part 2

2006-09-03T23:02:00.000+08:00

Again, a very late post.

The first quarter of the schoolyear is over, and I gave report cards to parents just yesterday. Being a class adviser is actually fun amidst a lot of work. Pisay's family day was also held yesterday at the gym, the highlight of which is the cheering competition.

I was in Pisay again today, for the dorm open house, and also to accompany my Jasmin students in their practices in line with the Humanities Week. I really hope that the class will do well, for they are really working hard. Go Jasmin!

~ * ~ * ~

The Ateneo Blue Eagles are doing well in UAAP Basketball. I wish they reach the finals; if they do, I might have the chance of watching firsthand - and it will be my first time in Araneta Coliseum. (Yes, I haven't been inside the Big Dome ever)

Absence = Excuse Letter

2006-07-29T02:08:00.000+08:00

After more than one month of absence...

The first quarter will be over in 2 weeks, but still I haven't posted anything related about Pisay this schoolyear. I became very busy doing new duties in school: Math Club Adviser, Math Training Program for First Years (MTP1) Coach, and Class Adviser for Jasmin 2009 (it's my first time to be a class adviser, and Jasmin was also my section when I was a sophomore). I was also asked to be MaSKara's adviser (haha, even with my lack of talent). A lot of things have happened already regarding the said tasks (aside from teaching Geometry for the 3rd straight year). So I cannot recount all the events in this entry. Makes me think twice about maintaining a blog... I find it hard to find time to be online, though I still am interested to use the medium.

Math Club is fun. Many of my new and former students joined the club (maybe one of the reasons is that I'm the adviser), and a lot of freshmen are enthusiastic in joining too. If I'm not mistaken, the club doubled in number as compared to last year with my efforts to pull in a lot of applicants (with the help of the Club's Board of Directors). We had our First General Meeting last July 6, and our Acquaintance Party last July 20. Good food!

MTP1 is challenging. For two years, I was handling Math 6, the third year level elective slash training pool. This year, I'm handling the freshmen. We gave a diagnostic exam to the whole batch, and the scores of this test and their Math NCE Second Screening results were summed up. The Top 31 qualified for MTP1. More exams were given, and the Top 20 will move on in the Second Quarter, and only ten will remain by the Fourth Quarter (Math training with a hint of American Idol, hehe). Six members of MTP1 of batch 2010 (yep, 10 batches younger than I) competed already last Thursday (July 27) in the annual Australian Mathematics Competition held in St. Stephens High School. Results are out in October.

Being Jasmin's adviser is worthwhile. Having 30 kids as if they were your own is hard to imagine age-wise, but I somehow understand partially the feeling of a person with parental authority given the responsibilities. I see myself more as an older brother to them than as a parent, maybe because we still share the same pop culture. We meet weekly to discuss topics of the week (Disaster Prevention, Code of Conduct, Environmental Awareness, etc), but more about hearing feedback in their schooling and studies. Bulk of the work is yet to come (accomplishing report cards, consultation with parents, etc). We had our acquaintance party last July 21.

Geometry is Geometry.

This schoolyear appears to be my most exciting yet.

By the way, my first batch (07) are already seniors, so some of them asked me to do recommendation forms for their university applications (Ateneo). I did this last schoolyear already, but the process still strikes me as surreal. I'm flattered, though, that some of them want my reccomendation.

The First Quarter was full of suspension of classes. 2 days each were cancelled because of two typhoons (and SONA); 1 day for the annual fumigation; and one half-day for the annual National Science and Technology Week at the PTTC. To think the schoolyear kicked off on June 13, not on June 1 as the school usually do. May the Second Quarter be better, weather-wise.

I don't know when I can post an entry again.

On Life

2006-06-09T23:10:00.000+08:00

I got the following quote from one of my philosophy professors in university:

The Tree of Life is watered by tears of adversity.

Very true.

Take This Bread

2006-05-31T02:25:00.000+08:00

Since we do not have cable TV at home, the channel is usually set only to either ABS-CBN or GMA (ABC it is during American Idol nights, and soon, Philippine Idol). Studio 23's reception is hazy, and MTV's is worse. I can actually type right now in this entry ABS-CBN's lineup of shows depending on the day. I can even notice trends, like plugging that a show will be simulcast after one show and before another, instead of just mentioning it's time slot.

Example:
Manuod po kayo ng Star Circle Summer Kid Quest, pagkatapos ng Pilipinas! Game KNB? at bago mag-Wowowee. (Hah! Cringy)

Having no cable is not that bad, especially since I don't get to watch much television during the school year (thus, I can tell my students that "no TV during weekdays" is tolerable). However, things change when you find time to actually watch TV and kill time. You might as well get comfy with women losing inches off their desired body parts, or formulaic melodramas that try to revive careers of some stars.

Recently, I was with my brothers and cousin one late afternoon, lying on the sofa. Somebody switched the channel to ABS-CBN. Since I was waiting for the local news program, I paid attention as well to what was on air. In the next minutes, I was down with laughter.

The show is entitled Yaki-tate Japan! From the advertisement I saw before, this Japanese cartoon is about a guy who tries to perfect The Japanese Bread that will make its mark globally, just like the French bread, English bread etc. The episode I saw featured the male lead (I'm poor with Japanese names), a budding baker competing for a scholarship grant to study bread-making in France (I might be wrong, though), in the middle of a bread competition. He and his competitor have to make the best croissant (two jurors will taste their breads).

The male lead's foe possesses such confidence: he was explaining his technique while making the multiple layers of his dough, all the time declaring that his recipe cannot go wrong. Our hero, meanwhile, prepared his bread silently (using his "solar hands") and actually finished baking first. The jurors take a bite, and hilarity takes over.

The jurors fell down the floor, like cadavers, but with smile on their faces. The audience is taken aback, accusing the male lead of poisoning the motionless taste testers. He defends himself by saying: "hindi sila namatay; dahil sa sarap ng tinapay ko, napunta silang langit". What a treat! Meanwhile, the jurors are actually experiencing nirvana: they were being entertained by pretty gals dressed in bunny attires. The realization that they are not in heaven yet came when their bodies disappeared little by little.

Back on earth and in full consciousness (but not in full sanity), one of the jurors declared the lead as winner for this stage of the competition, and demanded that he eat more of the croissants to go back "to the other side"; the lead then tells him that the other juror ran away with the rest of the bread. The opponent naturally appealed; his bread wasn't even tasted yet. More funny things happen, and this is sustained until the end of the episode.

The scenes I retold are really bizarre and even exaggerated. Kababawan. But this cartoon's entertainment value is a far cry from the violence of transforming robots or alien invasions (I get tired from these shows' attempt to achieve complexity). True, there still is a hint of competition, and maybe the antagonists will resort to dirty methods. But the idea is refreshing - one episode even featured the recipe of a bread baked (?) in a rice cooker. Move over, Jang Geum.

Yaki-tate Japan! reminds me of a Chinese comedy I once saw. It was entitled God of Cookery, a competition in search of the best chef. The male lead (was it Stephen Chow?) cooked a buchi-like delicacy that's hard enough to be played as a ping-pong ball, but has tenderness deep inside (after biting, gallons of juice will splash from it). The juror also goes ga-ga after tasting sumptuous meals: imagine a prim and proper businesswoman rolling over a giagantic slab of porkchop.

Apparently, local TV can be entertaining too. At least for shallow beings like me.

Amen for Yamin

2006-05-23T00:10:00.000+08:00

Last Week, American Idol bid farewell to the soulful Elliot Yamin. For me, this results show is the most emotionally charged for three reasons. First, this is the last elimination, and the two lucky people who had more votes will move on to the finals. Meaning, the eliminated fellow was just one show away to the grand finale (and probably a record deal). Second, even with more than 50 million calls and texts, the contestants barely surpassed each other’s share of votes: 33.68%, 33.26%, and 33.06%. Well, one can argue that it may look only a difference of 0.2%, but this translates to at least 100,000 votes. But still, statistics may conclude that the margin is near to negligible. And third, and saddest of all, the lowest number of votes were tallied to Elliot, proud son of Richmond, Virginia.

Elliot was the primary reason I glued myself to the fifth season of AI. True, I also checked out how Fil-Am Sway Penala will fair, but Elliot’s talent grabbed me early on. He may not have the personality of Taylor (or Kellie), or the confidence of Chris and Katharine, but Elliot Yamin has this certain charm, accompanied by his suave vocals, that I noticed early in the competition when every other person was rooting for Chicken Little Kevin or Ace and his eyes (both I dislike with a capital D). I seem to lean on people with the soul/r&b flavor marked on them, and to the people who don’t wear a mask.

Honestly, I cannot remember Elliot’s audition (of course, at the beginning, we are more likely to remember the awful and funny performances) but I know which song it is. Elliot made his mark in the group performance, where his efforts were applauded by Randy. He was in the same group as Sway, one of the annoying twins, and a forgettable guy. Back then, I’m quite sure his talent is Top 12 material, but I’m not that confident if he gets America’s nod too. It’s enough for me that I took a glimpse of such a wonderful voice.

During the Top 24 (12 boys and 12 girls), I was a bit worried that three of the six spots for the guys will be occupied by three Buble-ish crooners (oft-cuddled Kevin, one-dimensional but hunky Dave Bradford, and Will, who can choose nice songs) and their rivalry will be the focus of Season 5. Chris was already steady by that time, Gedeon matches the confidence of Chris, and of course Taylor, who I already labeled as the competition darkhorse, can convince people to either like him or detest him totally. Sway did not make it to the Top 6, but Elliot did, along with Kevin, Chris, Taylor, and two other contestants I regarded as jokes: Ace and Bucky. I realized then that I really cannot predict America’s pulse. But hey! Elliot’s in!

The girls are a bunch of talent too: Paris Bennett wowed the judges early on with her homage to the great old songs. Beautiful Katharine McPhee can effortlessly carry a tune. Mandisa is a powerhouse. Lisa Tucker seems to lack the depth of Mandisa and Paris, but Simon said she has the X-factor. Kellie Pickler is perky, and it worked for her for a time. Melissa rounds up the six girls (haha).

In arguably the most competitive season, I was hoping Elliot will reach as far as he could, so that more people will notice his talent, and I can hear him sing more and more. I really wasn’t optimistic for him, for he never really went far from his shy self unlike his rivals, but Elliot being himself was enough to catapult him to a Top Three finish. Accompanied by talent, of course.

In a field where some already had albums with their bands, and some other had joined other contests, or sang in a choir or weddings, Elliot was virtually a beginner. Knowing that he is allergic to most things, that he is practically deaf in one ear, and that he easily cries makes him easier to relate to. He is not your catalogue boy-next-door, and his teeth are another story. But he accomplished something that the others cannot or did not: Growth. Whereas others were becoming predictable, or tiring too watch, or showing their bad side week after week, or has ran out of cards to play, Elliot was a mean machine, improving after every show (even with occasional Bottom 3 scares), impressing us with unpopular song choices, most of which are almost impossible to sing with both pizzazz and restraint. But he has the ability and to passion to render his music with ease.

And we are impressed, big time. I still cannot decide which song he did best; I like most of them. His Moody’s Mood For Love was the proof of Elliot as the vocal royalty. His Somebody To Love reminded us that he has an amazing range and rage, and he too knows how to have fun and sound astounding at the same time. His A Song For You showed us his heart, no less.

Perhaps most will identify that Elliot’s night was the Elvis night. He had three words for the other three contestants: Bring It On. He conquered the stage with magic and showed that he too is worth the adulation of many and the praises of the judges. His If I Can Dream was lovely, masterful, and of course soulful. And if we thought that he’s done already, we were wrong. Elliot pulled all the stops for Trouble, pushing the competition higher than ever. Result: Elliot was in the Top 2, and Chris Daughtry sang his last song.

I don’t want to sound bitter, but I thought the judges and Clive Davis did not choose the right songs for Elliot. Or maybe they did, but they had magnificent choices for Kat and especially for Taylor. Elliot appeared tentative and stiff, but he performed well anyway. Maybe it was hard for him to top his Elvis performance. Maybe the nerves got to him also. Or maybe he realized that “hey, I’ve gone too far already,” surprising himself with his achievement, the simple man that he is (the last one sounded like I know him personally. haha).

When the screen showed that Elliot Yamin will leave the competition, I wasn’t really surprised, but I was sad. Looking at the tribute, I was amazed by what he has accomplished so far, winning more fans, impressing the most established of artists. He deserves the title American Idol, maybe more than the finalists. I had a bad day, just like the background song says. But this is not the end of Yamin and his E-Train; this is just the beginning.

I’m not about to say now which person I prefer to win, because this entry is not about Taylor or Katharine. This is for Elliot. I can say that he can truly inspire, from the songs he gave life to, or his life so far. There will be more seasons of American Idol: there may be better contestants, more splendid audition clips, more powerful singers, more deviant characters, more successful future recordings. But because of Elliot Yamin, the American Idol scene is now totally different: one that is laid down with heart and soul.

The Blog Wagon

2006-05-19T02:26:00.000+08:00

Yes, I recently joined the blog bandwagon. A summer dedicated to practically nothing at all led me to the decision to try this medium. But, less than a week after the blog’s inception, questions started bothering me, but I tried my best to answer them myself:

1) What will my blog be about? Well, I'd rather that this blog take me to a certain direction that I will not dictate right now. Maybe today I will share my views tightly-guarded political opinions, the next day I'll be shouting to the world (wide web) my craving for an unpopular song. I don't want to be limited by a single perspective; rather, I'll try to be as eclectic and dynamic as possible. If I can discuss current events with enough gusto, I will. If I want to resurrect age-old questions (or has-been celebrities), I will. Hah! My own corner of the cyberspace.

Perhaps easy topics (for me) to write about are: Mathematics (surprise! Look at the first post), music, lyrics, human interactions, celebrities, events, random thoughts, and nothing at all. I still have reservations on posting my favorite so-and-so, for I might convince you to make them your favorite so-and-so too, and we will soon be walking reflections of each other. (Such great expextations...)

I want to write spontaneously.

2) What will be the tone of my entries? This depends on my mood. I can be ecstatic or sarcastic, sad or mad or glad, poetic or apathetic. Or even attempting some rhymes. There is a part of me to make this blog serious and revolutionary, but I'm afraid I still have to discover more along the way. For there is ALWAYS something more, something else, to learn.

3) How cyber will this blog get? Right now, I'm not inclined to put a lot of technological effects because at a certain point, I'm ignorant with computers. Haha. I'll focus more on the words that I will input (thus the blog's name).

4) Will this blog be 100% gramatically correct? I wish! Although I have, for the past years, embarked on a serious effort to write in English with proper tense, grammar, and semantics. Perhaps the best way to do things right is to actually do it.

5) Will entries always be in English? Hindi po.

6) How do I want my blog to be perceived? Well, I hope nobody gets mad if ever I have personal ramblings. Ideally, I want to inspire, but there won't be any conscious effort on my part to do so. I want to be funny. To draw sympathy or opposing views. To be charming. To transcend social stratifications. Hah! Looks like I'm headed towards politics.

So there. This will be exciting. I hope.

Pilot

2006-05-15T00:29:00.000+08:00

1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, ...