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They say VP Binay is ‘bad.’ Is he?

After meeting Vice President Jejomar Binay today, I realized how media played some role in destroying his image.

He and his children are facing bulk of graft allegations that hound Makati City.

I used to think that he and all his family members are corrupt. Well, a portion of me still think the same why.

But after hearing his side of the story at first hand, the graft charges were only divulged to the public after he announced his presidential candidacy ahead of the others --  who, by the way, even until now still fears to confirm.

Binay does not need a push of his party unlike other politicians. He said to become a president was his dream since he was a child.

Amidst the graft allegations that he and his son Makati City Mayor Junjun Binay is facing, none of them were proven. “It’s the verdict that makes a person guilty and not the charges,” he said. Binay also said he was never suspended nor convicted on any graft charges  filed against him during and even after his long stint as mayor in Makati. I agree that the Ombudsman with the help of the media prejudged him and somehow ruined his image. He said they made a “demolition by perception.” And, I also agree when he said that all these graft charges filed against him dates back to when he was Makati City’s mayor.

Why can’t his “enemies” find something wrong about him as a vice president.

Come to think of it. Binay may have used public funds for personal use but so does other politicians. Why should we believe in allegations? Why should we believe in something that has yet to be proven? The other part of me also thinks that, maybe, Binay paid for his way out  of these cases. That is probable given the diminishing image that the media has projected about him. But, everything is uncertain so as other presumptive presidential candidates for the 2016 elections. DISCLAIMER: I am not pro-Binay or anti-Mar or anti-Poe. I have met the other two. I have seen the intelligence, executive potential and sincerity of Senator Grace Poe. However, in my few encounters with Interior Secretary Mar Roxas, I have never felt anything appealing about him except that he facilitated the approval of the Negros Island Region --  which, as a Negrense, I am happy about.

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Starting today, I am updating this blog. I am posting anything about what I am currently interested at like music, movies, TV shows, politics, journalism, creative writing and some of my shits.

Bare with me, please.

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Purely scratch

Things that happened today make me feel terribly sad. It's all about endings and blurry beginnings.

Goodbye. The cutest little brother that i considered went back to his country with his entire family for good. I will really miss listening to his talks about almost everything in this world, especially about his Minecraft adventure and his Naruto addiction.

By far I can say that he is one of the smartest kids I have ever encountered. He is very opinionated, straight forward and smart. He sees what is inside of every facade.

I can't wait to help him put to function his plans on conquering the world through his sly tactics in gathering the world's smartest people, specifically scientists, to clone him. Goodbye Goodnight. I searched for my first crush on Facebook and I found out that we are still too much alike. Sad thing is that he has already a girlfriend who's so like me-- an educator and an English major. Another thing that I discovered is that, one of my high school friends is her friend.

Life is what we make it they say. My choices before were never foolish.

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Confession 101: My Dirty Little Secret (List of my crushes)

Funny thoughts always tripped our minds, but silly and nonsensical ones, like what I am trying to do, cross our hypothalamus when emptiness breaks in, barging our suppressed and subconscious motives.

When we first encounter new things, we create a simple perception about it, until we continue to understand its deeper complexities. For example, when we encounter a certain word for the very first time, we’ll only know its linguistic worth: its pronunciation, lexical meaning, and the whole lot of it; but as we grow old, we’ll learn the figurative and interpretative meaning of this certain word. We dig into its insides, letter by letter until, we can think of its other function in a sentence and exploit it in casual conversations and formal writing.

Our brain is the most marvellous part in our body. Not only that we cannot live without it, it gives our lives something to hold on to. It keeps all perceptions  that we have from simple to complex. I even think sometimes that my brain knows something that I don’t know.

Now, this is not about brain. No, not even about linguistics. I am telling you that this is nonsense.

Crush—I can’t remember where, when and how did I first stumble on that word. But since my brain works on its own, I was unconsciously stripped to its meaning.

Anyway, this is the list of my crushes as far as I can recall. I know I should even have more but my brain can’t search some files, especially those that are hidden and suppressed.

ELEMENTARY

Addison. He’s my first crush as far as I can remember. Nobody knew about it even my brother who happened to be his best buddy back in grade school. 

Marlon. I should have not included him here because he looks so ill to my eyes now, but I am trying to be honest.

Ernesto. The name is ‘kinda boring but, hell yeah, he’s one of the campus heartthrobs back then. I am actually planning to search him on Facebook but I forgot his family name.

HIGH SCHOOL

This is the time when my crushes become virtual, and my standards turned unattainable. Like, duh, who would I have a crush on when I was studying in an all-girls school?

Gerard Way from My Chemical Romance. Who wouldn't like him? He’s my ultimate crush. He’s the reason why I appreciate every inch of rock’n’roll.

Pete Wentz from Fall Out Boy. Every FOB fan girl is crushing him.

Oliver Sykes from Bring Me The Horizon. I like his tattoos and the way he looks.

Andy Sixx of Black Veil Brides. Every BVB addict can’t resist his pheromone emission even if it’s miles away.

Ryan Ross, the former lead guitarist of Panic! At the Disco. I got this cool picture of him cut from one of my Rolling Stone magazines.

Mike Frisby and the rest of blessthefall. His blond hair and lip piercing. Blessthefall was like the best band in the world for me back then, but when Beau came in, everything messed up.

Vic Fuentes. Don’t ask me why. I don’t even know. Maybe because he sounds like a girl when he sings,and I got too engrossed with Pierce the Veil before.

Craig Mabbitt former vocalist of blessthefall, The Word Alive, and now singing for Escape the Fate. I said I am a blessthefall groupie only with the original line-up.

Max Green, Escape the Fate’s bassist. His pale face, black eyeliner, and crooked smile.

Josh Farro former lead guitarist of Paramore. Every ParaWhore must like him.

Brandon Anderson, the former vocalist of Eyes Set to Kill. I am just thrilled about him being in a girl-sounding band.

Curtic Ward, the former rhythm guitarist of Bring Me The Horizon. His angelic face and taming smile.

COLLEGE

Juanito. He’s the guy I just saw at school. He looks like Addison.

Chito. He’s just too good to my eyes.

Patrick. Well, I just happened to meet him last semester in one of our classes. I should have known him before. Maybe, we could be friends because we like the same weird music.

Andrew. I have a crush on Andrew Garfield at some point of my life, but he’s not what I meant. He’s not Andrew Biersack from Black Veil Brides.

Chris Drew from Never Shout Never. Who wouldn’t like a guy who writes songs about girls he just met from a café?

Jake Bugg. He’s new on the list. He’s a bit of a John Lennon to me. I got BUGGed.

Kellin Quinn from Sleeping with Sirens. Unfortunately, he’s married.

Synister Gates from Avenge Sevenfold. He’s the world’s best guitar player.

Alex Pettyfer. I'm an I am Number Four fan. Plus, I got first attracted to him when I saw him on “Beastly”.

Nicholas Hoult. I envy Jennifer Lawrence.

Jeremy. Although I’m a Paramore fan he’s no Jeremy Davis. Fine, I also have a crush on Jeremy Renner, but it’s not him. Not even the Jeremy that Candice likes in “Phineas and Ferb”.

Franz Kafka. Is it okay to have a crush on dead people? Anyway, he’s really not Franz Kafka but the one who gave me a copy of Haruki Murakami’s “Kafka on Shore”.

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I stumbled on this link, and I was amazed by how the father wants to commune his world to his son. Maybe, if all of us thinks like the father does, there would be peace. LOL.

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STYLISTIC ANALYSIS OF GOLF LINKS

Golf Links

By SARAH CLEGHORN 

The golf links lie so near the mill

That almost everyday

The laboring children can look out

And see the men at play.

This poem is an example of a compound-complex sentence. “The golf links lie so near the mill that almost every day” is a dependent clause composed of “links”, the subject that is modified by “golf”, “lie”, the intransitive verb, “so near the mill”, the adjective phrase denoting the location of the “links”, and “that almost every day” is an adverbial phrase denoting frequency. “The laboring children can look out and see the men at play” is composed of the compound sentence in which, “children”, modified by “the” and “laboring”, is the subject and “can look out and see” are the transitive verbs, whose object is “men”, followed by the prepositional phrase, “at play”.

            This one-sentence poem by Sarah Cleghorn has very simple images of the golf links, a stretch of uncultivated flat or undulating ground where golf is being played on, and the mill, a building or a factory that contains grinding.

            The two concrete images of the “golf links” and “mill” can be easily imagined, but out of its simplicity, it attacks the social issue of child labor. This is evident in the whole stanza of the poem, especially on the third line where the “children” are being described as “laboring”, and laboring denotes kind of work that requires physical effort and difficulty that further conforms to the word, “mill”, from the first stanza, which is a factory, and in a factory you would not normally see or find a kid helping with heavy and laborious work, unless they are being forced by circumstances. If we try to consider the situation of these children, they are in pain because they are described to be looking out and seeing the men at play almost every day.

Another point that heightens the crucial mood of the imagery is the use of unusually collocated words to foreground the message that the writer intended for us to understand. Instead of dealing with the usual situation, where in the children play and the men work, the writer switch them out and created a trick of exceptional truth that this form of violence happens in our society as well.

The poem also tackles the social discrimination between the rich and the impoverished where in the children, who at their young age are supposed to play, are being deprived by their right to leisure because they need to help in fulfilling the needs of their family or they are being forced, while the men who play golf would represent the discriminating opportunity of the rich to own the time in playing golf, which is a very expensive past time.

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Out Of Darkness

Matt’s second encounter with the lassie known as Lights was, ironic as it sounds, decidedly darker than the first time around. Older (slightly), wiser (surely) and blonder (conspicuously), the artist formerly known as Valerie Anne Poxleitner’s vivid vibe contrasted an otherwise aphotic affair, while her natural effervescence was highlighted through the help of stylist Sonia Torsan and MUA Robert Weir.

Thankfully Lights’ radiance wasn’t lost in the shadows of the shoot, but it certainly wasn’t helped by the inclusion of an animal associated with the dark arts - a bird of different feather - Ruby, a Eurasian Eagle Owl, appreciatively provided by Hands On Exotics. For more of Lights, Ruby and several sinister still-life shots, click through the jump, and be certain to pick up Lights’ acoustic version of her album Siberia, out on April 30th. 

Read More

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Buho

Ginkuha niya ang pala

Kag ginsulay ang nagatagiti ng adlaw.

Sa kilid sang mayab-ok nga dalan

Kung diin sila pirme nagasumalangay,

Nagsugod sya panghukay.

  Isa kaadlaw nagpalapit sa iya si Inday

Nga may dala man nga pala

Samtang sya padayon sang pagpanghukay.

Kag sugod, sila nagbuligay pangutkot

Nga daw may bulawan nga nakalubong.

  Kag nagdalom nga nagdalom

Ang ila hukay sa kilid dalan

Kung diin si Nonoy

Adlaw-adlaw nga nagalabay

Pakadto sa iya ulubrahan

  Galgal-om yadtong aga.

Gulpi lang ang iya kaakig nanaguob

Nadalin-as kag nahulog sya sa buho

Sang iya makit-an si Inday sa tabok dalan

                Nagapamala kaupod si Nonoy.

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The journal of the soulless

The storm of my emotions has an impending trick of luring me to exhaustion. After I discovered that my tears were unconsciously streaming from my eyes, I ran almost mechanically upstairs and locked myself in my room. I shed the mist of my sorrow to my bed, trying to empty my overlapping thoughts and my fears of tomorrow; but the pain was tormenting that I cannot suppress.

          There is this lapse every time our professors ask questions to assess our understanding about the matter being discussed. I call it “the thinking time”. It usually lasts for five to 10 seconds, and after which followsthe “dead air,” when no one answers.

          It was in our sociology class when I acted upon the mechanism of dreading the advent of  thedead air. I stood up and answered.

          The attention was in me, but I did not see awe in everyone’s eyes as I broke the dumb silence. Their looks were peeling me inch by inch. They were strange and piercing. I shifted my view to find ease with my professor as I grasped for words, but he looked at me like anyone else in the class, only with a hint of pity.

          I staggered to sit, leaving my sentence hanging while I involuntarily found my hands searching for my bag. I placed it on my lap, hoping that it would somehow pacify the glaring verdict in their eyes.

          My shirt fitted me ill and it gave accent to the lump that was forming in my abdomen. I knew this time that I dreaded the most would happen in no time. I was already in my second month. I could not just hide it that easily anymore.

          It was unfortunate of me that I had broken the precautions to ensure the secrecy of my pregnancy, but the possibility of such discretion was self-evident. Even my attempt to conceal it only raised suspicion.

In haste, the rumors buzzed around. I felt humiliated, loathed, hurt, offended, but really sorry. But I realized that I had no other avenger but myself. I just could not stop hating myself more and more. I thought of every little thing that died with my hopes and dreams each night. The ticking of the clock became too loud for me to hear and too disturbing for me to sleep. Sleep. I could not even blink for a rest although my eyes were itching. My cries were as alarming and as lachrymal as my thoughts were.

I felt that giving up my studies was like wasting away the time and effort that I invested for years. Although breathing wearied me to death, I went on living in the hell I made.

It was Monday. My eyes were sore of tears that windowed my sullen countenance. I resolved to pretend that everything around me is only a delusion, and that I was okay. I traversed the path going to the university, but my feet wandered elsewhere until it reached the nearby drugstore.

“Miss, can I have a box of that medicine?” I pointed out a random drug to a lady at the counter.

“Where exactly ma’am?”

“The one that is in the pink box near you.”

“Oh, I see. Themefenamic acid?”

“Exactly, just as I needed for my toothache. I want a box of it,” I said.

My face was again drenched with tears as the dusk signaled the advent of the dark. There was a riot of voices in my head that I could not sort out. The truth was, the impulse of dying was just so enticing for my absolute despair.

In twitch of fear and desperation, I unsealed the medicine box and took a handful of it. I tossed it in my mouth over and over again, until I lost control of my senses and lost my consciousness.

I let death entered my disturbed abode.

I do not know what they call the intervals in between seconds, but the sin that I have incurred is a misanthropy that I could not stop thinking about. The memory of Monday lives within me as the day that needs the repentance beyond my lifetime, and the day of my sordid loss of emotions. It was sacrilegious to think that I did not only cease the life of the unborn, but of my soulful existence as well.

Everything that happened whipped my conscience to its death. Its death that parted my being, but has started haunting my soul for reparation is highly improbable. Now, seeing each morning comes is a toll I have to bear. 

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My first teaching adventure (Part I)

They say that in life every choice you make will affect you and the people around you, hence we have to be very careful in making decisions because one nasty and hasty one will change the whole point of your future from where you are now. I remember my hasty decision of taking the course of education that paced my steps to the station of no return.

Ride of a lifetime

On my bedside, I placed my three bags in a row after checking the list of my things to bring for the five-day community immersion. Impatience entered my feelings of anticipation, as I was waiting for the clock to strike at two in the afternoon. I wandered my thoughts on what else I could possibly forget until my eyes rested on my desk fan. The thought of bringing it poked my consciousness. I take a look at my packs again, but the possibility of bringing it with me is out of my league, for I have three big bags to carry alone.

The air were like soft whips that leaves cool mists on my skin as I sat on the front seat of the vehicle that we rented to carry us on our way to Brgy. Cabilauan, New Lucena which is approximately ____ kilometers away from Iloilo City. The downpour of my excitement bored my sight from the 45-minute ride of seeing endless green fields and residential areas that are widely apart.

Upon reaching the house where we had to stay in for five days, we were warmly welcomed by Sir Flavio Sevilla or rather “Tay Flavs”—as we call him in endearment. He is a retired elementary teacher in Cabilauan Elementary School and the uncle of Prof. Mae Bagsit, our course facilitator. Like his over-all disposition during our stay with him, his house is quiet and tranquil. Though it is unfinished and desolate, I have seen its grandeur as I entered and saw the grand staircase that was beckoning my feet to bask its surface. There were four rooms to accommodate us all. Luckily, our group got the best room. Although we were not allowed to turn the air conditioner on, we were still fortunate to have a bathroom inside our little abode.

Forty people living in the same roof for almost six days is the toughest job aside from teaching and lesson planning. We have known each other for like three years already, but seeing each other only at school most of the time is very different from living with them.

Day 1: The school, community and us

Waking up at three in the morning was not a hard thing to do for all of us. The pull of gravity was in reverse. Some of us might have not been able to sleep because they were new to the place and could not just rest their heads at ease, but the certain thing that was evident in each one of us was the feeling of tension mixed with enthusiasm to commence our formal activity of the day.

                At six thirty in the morning, we reached New Lucena National High School. By the time we entered its portals, we immediately prepared for the orientation activity that was after their flag ceremony. It was their first day of class for the year 2013 and it seemed that some of the students were not able to sweat out from the fever of the New Year’s celebration. Even though the program started a little late than was expected, we were able to rip the crowd of students and faculty with our short getting-to-know program. Overwhelming emotions filled me that I could not take the smile off my face until the whole activity was over. Expectation from both parties were shared and we led them in dancing the famous Gangnam Style. My feet are innately offbeat; I wished that Harlem Shake was as viral as Gangnam that time so I could do some freestyle dancing; but as I started to move with my classmates on stage, I felt that my muscle memory did not fail me for the first time.

                After the morning activity, we were allowed to roam around to observe the daily school interaction. Everything was surreal to me, because for the very first time, I went to school not as their student, but as an observer. It reminded me of the accreditors who were examining our college for the level four accreditation—like a boss.

                The school was not really that big, but it was enough to shelter and hone the minds of the students who are, no sooner than now, to be sent on the front lines of leading the succeeding generations who are next in line. Although the facilities are incomplete, especially their access to educational technology, the exchange of learning is inevitable.

                After the observation, my classmate and I started our interaction with the community. We went to the Barangay Hall and asked for a copy of their historical and cultural background. I commend the overwhelming accommodation of the employees in the barangay. Even the Barangay Captain welcomed and talked to us for a short while.

Day 2: Not playing anymore

We were in trio but the deluge of my emotions was disturbing me. It suited the rainy weather of that day. Faintly drenched, heads were trailing us as we entered the classroom. I felt a queer tension that I never had before.

When the observing teacher signaled for us to start, I realized that this is my first time to teach with actual students in a classroom. Everything is real. It was not like that of my experience in micro-teaching for our subject in Principles of Teaching. My students were not my classmates anymore. They were high school students of that school and their learning about the story, Jar of Tassai, depends on us three.

To build an interactive rapport between us and the students was hard. We started with the motivational activity, but I guess we were not able to arouse their curiosity about the topic. One thing that added to the boredom was that Nong John Rey, Jessica and I are of serious sorts, and honestly, I feel like interpersonal interaction is one of the things that I am weak at.

Another thing that added to the monotony was the topic itself. We were tasked to discuss a short story, and the whole thing about it ruined our time frame. The students were not told to read ahead of time and so it took us long.

The demonstration teaching has made me felt what it is like to be a teacher, to speak in front of students with varied dispositions. Some students seemed to be very eager to deal with us, but some were acting passively. I felt seriously awkward about it, especially when I started asking questions to assess their understanding about the matter being discussed; and when the thinking time was over, no one answered. It reminded me of my childhood experience of talking to an imaginary friend.

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This is how, Hayley, Jeremy and Taylor sound without Josh and Zac, and I just think that they are trying really hard to make their new music diverse from their previous releases. It's just that I can't appreciate it yet. The obvious use of autotune in some parts of the song is so new to me. It's unlikely Paramore(ish). To wrap things up, I hear no hint of punk angst in their new song, just a whiny cliche, that they are coming back from a long hiatus.

However, to a long-time Parawhore like me I have seen them grow, and I have to commend them for that. In Now, I don't hear similar guitar riffs from their old songs, unlike in All We Know is Falling and Riot!. Also, I think Hayley is trying to make her voice distinct from their other records, which I love listening to.

I can't wait for their new record.

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People with disturbed minds

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Facundo, lipunin mo nga ang kongreso at pakitawag na rin sa Presidente. Sabihin mo na maghain na sila ng mosyon na mag-aaproba sa anti-EPAL Bill. Awang-awa na talaga ako sa laganap na pangpuputol ng mga puno para sa mga mapapel na politiko.

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Last Trip

  Nangangalay na ng aking mga braso.

Mga paa tila ay pagod na rin.

Isa, dalawa, tatlong oras ang lumipas.

Wala pa ring dumarating.

  Pawis na pawis na ang katawan,

Hinagkan ang usok at alikabok sa daan.

Pero nandito pa rin ako nakatayo.

Naghihintay ng dyip patungog CPU.

  Ako’y dumukot ng barya sa bulsa ,

Karampot na anim na piso ang nakuha.

Sapat na sana para sa pamasahe.

Subalit, naunhan na naman.

  Palibhasa’y gumagabi na,

Lahat ng tao’y nagmamadali.

Ako’y ugod-ugod, hindi na kayang makipagsiksikan.

Sa samu’t-saring taong isa lamang ang patutunguhan.

Note:My first Filipino poem that I finished in not less than 20 minutes.

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Unsent Letters

  Dear mom,

I have always wanted that toy.

The one I see in the grocery store,

That the lady uses in the counter.

Well, I have seen a miniature of it.

My classmate, Amber has it.

She plays it with some of her friends.

I just thought, that maybe if I had it,

Girls in the class would befriend me,

Not that I want to be miss popular.

  I promise I would not talk to John anymore.

I know you hate seeing me talk to him

Because you think he doesn’t exist.

He does, mom. I always hear him.

But I swear, I wouldn’t speak to him

If you buy me that little cash box.

-xoxo-

Your little girl

  Dear mom,

Now that I am old enough,

I want that boy in the other class.

His face is etched in my mind.

During lunch, I always sit near him

Just to steal a glimpse of his face.

I wonder what it could’ve been if he is my friend.

  Yesterday after lunch,

I tried to talk to him

And told him how much I like him.

It sounds petty, but I just want him to know.

A while ago, I haven’t seen him at the cafeteria.

Maybe he feels sick.

But mom I still want him

Just as I wanted to talk to John years ago.

  With lots of love,

Your daughter you don’t hear anymore

  Dear mom,

You do not know yet

But I have been dating Carl.

He says he loves me and I like hearing it.

So, I told him that I love him too.

  One night, he held my hands and kissed me.

That time, I felt surreal.

We did everything we want for love.

  Just this morning I found out

That my tummy bears something.

Mom, I am confessing

That soon, I’ll become you.

I do not want it.

  With regrets,

Your daughter knocking on your sepulcher

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The scanner is good, but I don't know with my penmanship. :3

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