The frenetic

The adjective is too fitting it can't be the right one. Frenetic- busy as a bee. Thanks to the 5th Chemical Engineering Week Celebration. This year's theme is "Filipino Chemical Engineers: Breaking Boundaries." 

First on the list is the essay writing contest. I'll assess my own performance. It's deplorable. I never thought that waking up after having a very bad migraine could hamper my writing. The throbbing pain was still there at the back of my eye when it was augmented by the sight of what I am going to write about: On House Bill No. 1743 otherwise known as "An Act Converting MSU-IIT into a national state university in Iligan City to be known as Iligan National University (INU)." 

I almost surrendered. I have no firm grasp of that bill. The KASAMA officers were given copies of a primer on that bill but I failed to read it. It's so unfortunate I curse the moments when I read newspaper wrappings of flowers. I read crumpled material intently yet I overlooked the primer printed in bond paper. All I can do was use a different style, and I pray the judges were as informal as me.

Next came the Lecture Series.(Assuming 2 consecutive lectures would qualify for a series.) I was asked to deliver a lecture about nuclear power. I decided to focus on the feasibility of putting up a nuclear power plant here in the Philippines. My lecture was entitled "Why go nuclear? (And other frequently asked questions about nuclear power in the Philippines)." The lecture went on smoothly, with a couple of inquiries from a persistent classmate (Oy, Russil!) barely affecting my composure. I condemn my cough for destroying my moment. I can't amplify my voice and raise intonations without straining. And the worse thing is, it shows.

Which brings me to Radio Broadcasting. Yes, the one only heard of in Schools Press Conferences is now in the ChE roster of Literary Events. They made me the anchor, Henry Gabi Diaz with a whooping cough and an "excuse me po" to countermand it. I am so elated that I did not went into coughing fits while we are "on-air." I did not have to use the "Excuse me po."

Unless of course you champion in the spelling bee and quiz bowl. Spelling bee for 2 years and quiz bowl for 4 consecutive years. You definitely have the air of what you've achieved. 

Taking all these, I've already proven myself in the literary arena. What I'm excited about is my newest venture. A cross over into the Cultural events.The WannaBe competition. I want to be surprised, even shocked by no other than myself.

I can't wait.

In search of a clean, well-lighted place in hopes of memorizing the ChE code of ethics

We found ourselves hopping from one coffee shop to another, until we finally settled for Aruma. I refused with the idea of  reading at coffee shops at first, thinking that it was not my idea of a clean, well-lighted place. (I suggested Jollibee, if you must ask. Don't laugh. I'm quite serious.) I found out later that I was right. The lights are not as intense as that in the aforementioned fastfood chain. It's relatively dimmer. However the ambience was infinitely more relaxing and that fact beats everything. 

The deliberate misspelling is ingenious. It almost sounds like the repeated syllables of a Lady Gaga song. The place wasn't so large by the way and that actually makes it homely. There are plenty of magazines (Mostly for men. No. Not anatomy magazines for men. Gadgets, tailored suits, etc. They could also pass for men's interests. Duh.)

We settled for the part beside the wall, where we stood to take the picture above.It is because the couch was more comfortable albeit you want to read intently. Also, the table design is interesting. Look.

I wonder if these are real coffee beans. Nevertheless, I never placed my things on top of it for a while. I took time to revel at the artwork. (For a coffee lover, it is.) But of course we never forgot what we came here for. (No, not the code of ethics.) I ordered an Aruma Jelly Frappe and my friend, Madam, bought me a banoffee pie. Banofee is an apocopation of banana and coffee. True enough, there's banana, coffee and of course chocolate in every bite. 

I would dare to say my sweet tooth was overworked. The pie was too sweet I could become hyperglycemic. I was a little disappointed with the frappe. I couldn't taste the coffee distinctly enough. Later, I realized i should have bought the caramel one. The taste of coffee in here was more pronounced.

What about the code of ethics? Well, I perused the photocopy haphazardly. I never got it all absorbed during the Aruma stay. The experience and the company of my friends was overpowering and in a general sense, more important.

I decided that I would go back. But I would never bring school stuff over.

To those who advised Regine to not tell she's a Filipina during her rise in Asia-- "I am a Filipina. But I can sing!"

Yes, we are a nation of servants. The truth hurts, eh? But look, where will the rage, the affront, the repugnance bring us? To the same state of complacency and lack of desire to improve our nationalistic sense? 

This is another one of F. Sionil Jose's essays. He's an old man. All he can do is to write about what we, the young generation, the next in line, the "pag-asa ng bayan" could do. I just hope admonitions such as these will be heeded by the youth. 

How many of you have the time to watch this, instead of watching videos of your favorite Korean superstar? My theory is that the youth seeks the unintelligible to escape the piercing truth of the state of the Filipinos in plain, understandable language. Well my advice is, FACE IT. 

If not now then when? If not us, then who?

The past, the present and the future of the Philippines is enough to remind us that our generation cannot afford to screw up. 

P.S. And yes, Regine was asked to not say she's Filipina, because in neighbouring Asian countries, Filipina means domestic helper. But she exclaimed to anyone who asks, "I am a Filipina. But I can sing!"

We are poor because we are poor-- this is not a tautology. The culture of poverty is self-perpetuating. -F. Sionil Jose

It's a shame I only read an article of F. Sionil Jose. The one entitled "An Open Letter to Noynoy." (To the non-existent person who doesn't know F. Sionil Jose, he's a columnist in the Philippine Star.)
Now, I came across this video accidentally and that accident placed things in perspective. I dedicate this video to all "mayayabang" Filipinos out there.

To all of you, inhale this!

Fly Me to the Moon

I want to escape all this ruckus. And one solution would have to be flying myself to the moon. If only I'm as ingenious as Phineas and Ferb, the siblings who could conjure a spaceship in their backyard without so much of a fuss.

But then again I'm JanMell. And I should take responsibility for whatever lapses of judgment I had incurred that made things wonderfully worse. I seriously pray that these PALAKASAN issues be settled already with the least possible damage to friendships. Personally, I don't care If I lose the sympathy of a whole college. What bugs me is to lose the closeness of a single friend.

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During our Plant Tour in Cebu I bought a copy of Jessica Zafra's Twisted 8 and 1/2. (I also obtained a copy of Ian McEwan's Saturday and the classic Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas by Jules Verne. Until that time, I did not know that Jules Verne is the most translated author of all time.) One article in the compilation was entitled The Moon, The Meryl. There's this thing about the Meryl Syndrome. Apparently, people doesn't get excited with the excellent performances of Meryl Streep anymore because they have become used to her superb artistry. After reading it, I thought the same idea applies to Regine Velasquez, this time in singing. I call it The Regine Syndrome when listeners do not get too enthralled with you singing on stage because they have become used to you singing beautifully and mind-blowingly. (That's actually literally mind-blowing, try reaching B5 with pure chest and you'll know what I mean.) I think that explains why the only video of Regine who reached a million views is the video where she sang Beyonce's Listen with awfully wrong lyrics. The public wants something different from Regine's impeccable vocals. And that would spark their interest towards her.

*************

Have you made a bus wait and delayed a field trip departure just because of books? Yes I did. Thanks to the hardbound Ian McEwan, the classic Jules Verne and the wicked Grungella, Ms. Zafra. They cost Php 300 all in all and of course a scold from the official chaperon. Note to self: Do not say "be back in a jiffy" if going to National Bookstore, or any bookstore for that matter.

Where were you when...

...Venus Raj plucked her answer from Neptune?

Photo Courtesy of cbsnews.com

 I was surfing the net looking for beautiful streamer designs at a classmate's boarding house. The wi-fi is free and the television is far away. The sounds are barely audible you'd think the Ms. Universe pageant was broadcast through radio (with matching ek-ek-ek-zzz). I actually went there just to check. ( It is indeed a TV, albeit the video quality was deplorable.) That moment the top ten was about to be announced and I was happy (honest!) that Venus was in the top 15. Then I got tired of the long commercial breaks, so I went back to my work. After a short while the spectators raced towards my spot (which is the common area, incidentally) in hysteria. Apparently voicing out their utter disappointment, shaking each other, pounding the table and yes, holding back tears. Feigning interest I asked what happened and confirming what they said, I opened my Facebook account and found it studded with status updates that were either announcing Venus' rank or simply stating the word "major, major." Now, it has become a very hackneyed expression. (More like over, over and  pagxur oi!). I reckon Venus tried to translate bonggang-bongga to English. That is, I bet she was trying to say Wala akong bonggang bonggang problema. 

And it has become so popular. I am a major, major fan.

... the SWAT was apparently swatted?

I was at school the whole day. When I went home I passed by the ATM booth adjacent to the guardhouse at the exit of the institute where the flat screen television (Ows?) was tuned to ABS-CBN News. People were glued to it, and I tried to absorb the spectacle before my eyes. What I was able to process was " Quirino Grandstand." Then the bus, then the reporters and then the police. (Corny joke: Why did they send a SWAT team, what, is the hostage taker a fly?) Then there was Rolando Mendoza, who was a former policeman. I heard myself go, "WHAAATTT??" Afterwards, I noticed the bus was painted with Chinese or so characters. I thought they're Korean. (Say goodbye to SuJu encore concert). Later on it became clear to me, they were Chinese from HongKong. I felt morbid-- morbidly disappointed. I thought of the consequent tension in the international arena. I even thought of Venus Raj redeeming some of our sweet perfume to the nations. Then I went home. I murmured "Goodluck" in my mind.

Plant Tour MMX: Purging one of the 7 deadly sins

I never thought standing in front of the real, tangible Magellan's Cross would be hair-raising. Previously we've been to Pepsi Cola Products Philippines Inc. (PPCPI) where I committed indifference and earlier committed envy with the laboratories of the University of San Carlos. My goosebumps or horripilation or in medspeak, cutis anserina   (I claim to be a frustrated medical student) could be attributed to these depravities. It's as if the historical and religious ambiance was declaring someone like me unfit for the visit. But still I insisted. I admit indifference is a crime, and I often label it as The Sin, but boredom is a sure excuse to feel indifferent and to not feel envious when dumbfounded with equipment beyond your level is impossible. Hence, I concluded it was all forgivable. Don't ask me why, we can't confirm it with God, can we?

Here's an interesting fact we non-Cebuanos share. We saw this same image from our elementary Sibika at Kultura book. (Remember the Burnham Park, the Hagdang-hagdang Palayan?). I was enthralled to see it for real and unable to help myself, asked: " If Magellan brought this cross centuries ago (1521), erected this during the country's first Catholic rites, then how come it looks new?" Disregarding the idea of termites afraid of the consecrated wood and sanctity-induced immunity from biodegradation, I read the signpost at the foot of the cross. It says that the original wood is now enclosed by the new one, probably for aesthetic reasons. For me, it also gives an additional eerie feeling knowing that beneath the superficial gloss is that thing that symbolizes all of Catholicism-- the first ever to be engraved in the minds of the Filipino natives. It's the mystery factor that prevailed. 

Nearby is the Basilica del Sto. Nino where the statue of the Holy child is kept. It has become a tourist spot partly because it is thought to be miraculous, answering deep devotees' prayers (It's the apparent trend. Saints only answers prayers from devotees. It's called reciprocation. Duh) and partly because historically, it was given by Magellan to the then chieftain of Cebu, Rajah Humabon in 1521. The Sto. Nino is the patron saint of Cebu for which they dedicate the renowned Sinulog Festival. Strolling around the vicinity of the basilica was lethargic. It smelled like the Spanish era was just around the corner. And one more thing, the balloons smelled like childhood. I felt like having one.

Thank you Wenggay for the pic and the pose.

To prove that you can learn something from this post, the ones responsible for the artwork on the ceiling of the Magellan's cross were Serry M. Josol and Jess Roa. Moreover, the enclosure is octagonal. Nothing. I just figured it would help me win a million someday. Ahh, gameshows!

Photos by Karl Ondoy. Again, tenchuu.