New Gen

Last week, as I was briefing the Board on how the mother station is doing on social media, one of the Fellows-Board Members commented, "Facebook is the new religion."

That Fellow of ours is no other than the marketing guru of the Philippines, Lolo Ned.

If there are people who could look at Philippine culture now and summarize it in one sentence, I believe Lolo Ned is one of them.

I'm not so fond of fezbook and other social media sites, but I try to learn as much about them as part of work. Just another task for mother station's "communications guy."

The social media are as fascinating as they are, at times, scary -- just like the new generations called Millennials and Gen Zs.

Now I really sound old.

These youngsters have been entering the workplace in the past five years, and I've been trying to carefully find ways to harness their unique approaches to productivity.

I say carefully, because these youngsters have a completely different set of values when it comes to work, compared to a Gen X like me.

And here's a thought...

It is estimated that by 2016, over half of the voter population in the Philippines would be below 30 years old.

Remember the people who made noise in social media, saying Ferdinand Marcos was the best president ever?

Yep.

They are from this group.

The void quarter

There's a void quarter in my life.

The entire last quarter of 1997,  lost.

Everything -- notes, pictures, journal, files -- both personal and work.

The only proof of my existence at that time were the few entries I made in this blog.

It's just like the void century in One Piece.

I don't like the feeling of losing that much data.

Thank you, 2013.

It's been raining non-stop since I arrived here at the old family house in Batan, Aklan. When I took my first shower, I can only thank the heavens that the house is still intact (and that the second floor bathroom is still there).

We were lucky. Most of Yolanda's wind was absorbed by our neighbor's 4-storey apartment building from the north, while another building shielded the south side.

My mother already had most of the roofing repaired, except for the small patch at the second floor bathroom. So... it was quite a shower experience: rain trickled through the kisame (speeding up my rinsing process), and with the solitary glass window shattered, I can see the world outside and (gasp!) vice-versa.

The house is structurally intact, half of the appliances still work, and most of all, no one got hurt. That's so much to be thankful for.

What a year this has been! I don't remember ever having gone through so much turbulence in my personal life -- both at work and with family.

But with every turmoil and trial come the most memorable times of my life.

2013 is a year I should not forget. In no particular order, I look back at my personal highlights.

***

Early this year, on March 27, our father joined the Creator. He was a pioneer in his family, the very first to venture out of the very small family, geographical, and cultural circle that his clan has known for so long. To some, he was that one fruit that fell a tad too far from the tree. But in his last moments, he did good on his promise to bring us back to the roots.

We love you, Dad. We miss you. Happy New year!

***

Nelson Mandela (July 18, 1918-December 5, 2013), Cory Monteith (May 11, 1982-July13, 2013), and Paul Walker (September 12, 1973-November 30, 2013) passed away.

Walker's death has been particularly shocking to me. Sometime this year HBO featured Fast Five, and somehow I never grew tired watching it again and again. My wife could attest to this, but I had commented endlessly how well-written the script was.

***

I give thanks for Joan's smooth transition at work as her former boss retires from the judicial profession. Her new office/boss takes her closer to home, and I probably should be ready to take my work somewhere else anytime soon. ^^

***

I've seen Mayon Volcano, finally, and it is every bit as awe-inspiring as I imagined it would be back when I was just looking at the postcards.

I can also now cross-out Sagada in my Local Places to Visit list. 

And hurray Singapore (Universal Studios!) and Malaysia (Legoland!)!

***

A Catholic pope resigned -- something uncommon in anyone 's lifetime. The Catholic world was then presented a Pope unlike anyone before him, and he wants scientific data! Oh he gets the researcher in me so excited!

***

After over 15 years with mother station, I have an idea of what my weaknesses are, and one of them is handling people. This is the reason why I worked to have the communications and publications section established. Most of time it's a one-man department, but what the heck.

Every now and then, however, due to the sheer size of a project, I get drafted to do field management.

This year saw one of the biggest, most expensive projects the station has ever handled. The project was so crucial there was no room to freely choose the place to go to -- we were assigned based on how well we know the place, the people, and the language. So I, naturally, got assigned to Region VI.

Perhaps due to age and *cough* rank, my old fears were things of the past. That project re-acquainted me to all the things I love about fieldwork -- meeting new people, traveling, getting stranded in strange places, riding motorbikes on remote provincial roads, and, with some luck, rocking under the starry sky to the songs of some of my favorite local bands.

It was a difficult project, both technically and emotionally. The survey instrument was so hard to implement, and the subject re-opened our eyes to the harsh reality of poverty. We've seen mothers who never had any kind of pre- or post-natal care, children who never had a single vaccination, students who walk miles to get to their classrooms, and families so poor the only toys their children play with are the bolos and knives their parents use in the farms.

But these families opened their doors to us in complete trust, offered what meager food they have in their pots, and answered in earnest as we interviewed them for an average of three hours. This sort of hospitality is something you won't find so easily in the cities.

The project broke all our hearts, but made us better persons and so much grateful for the blessings we have.

Oh, and that project made me realize how susceptible I am to aswangs. Tsk. ^^

***

This year Joan and I explored alternative Chinese medicine (acupuncture), and had good results. The root of all my medical woes can now be explained in three words: I'm too hot. ^^

***

Thank you, 2013! It's been quite a year.

Hello, 2014!

Good evening... (another aswang story)

I thought this would be my last encounter, but 30 years later, this happened.

Happy halloween, everyone.

***

The Kalibo International Airport security personnel looked at the contents of my pockets and asked, "Sir, bakit kayo may ginger?"

I swear I heard him speak Aklanon a few minutes ago while I was queuing for the x-ray machine, so I thought it would be okay to tell the truth.

"Pangontra sa aswang," I said.

He gave a smile so big his chinito eyes disappeared, and said, "Juan dela Cruz lang yan, Sir."

I smiled and laughed with him. "Quot homines tot sententiae", as our office motto says. As many opinions as there are people, and this gentleman is very much entitled to his own.

But why the slices of ginger in my pockets?

It all began in Guimaras.

Oct. 23, Day One. The trip from Iloilo City went without a hitch, and we arrived at our target barangay earlier than expected. The team immediately prepped the homebase -- a simple bamboo cottage owned by the local health officer -- which will be home to 16 of my teammates for the next 15 days.

Our field supervisor, local field anchor, and I immediately went to the barangay hall to interview the Barangay Captain. It was completed just in time for lunch. The reception was positive, and we have green light to kick off the fieldwork.

I went with Fabs and Jo, both Mother Stations' experienced interviewers. In the absence of house and street numbers, we located the household after 30 minutes of walking along a remote dirt road.

The household had a new member, a 2-year old girl, which means we need to get one of our Anthro boys (those in-charge of carrying the equipment for measuring children's height, weight, and arm circumference).

I volunteered to go.

The road to the meeting point was winding, and it was getting dark. I met a few locals along way, and casually greeted them "Good evening, 'nong/'nang". I wasn't doing it as loudly and cheerfully as how my lady teammates do it, but I was being acknowledged with a simple nod or "Oi".

My cellphone rang as I was approaching an intersection. The call was from one of our Anthro boys, asking the location of our household-respondent.
 
I continued walking as I spoke with him on the phone, momentarily oblivious of my surroundings. Only after I passed the intersection did I stop to look around for landmarks.

That's when I saw her.

She was already about twenty paces behind me. She has stopped walking, and had her head turned towards me.

She was staring at me.

She must have emerged from the ricefields from the other side of the road for me to miss her.

I hung up and decided to walk on. The hairs along my nape were standing at the ends -- she was still staring at me, I can feel it.

By the time I reached the meeting point, I was feeling hot and out of breath. Rather than walking back to our sample household, I decided to hire a motorbike.

The interview took more than two hours, but halfway through I was already having cold sweats, headache, and that sickening nausea that made me want to throw up. My teammates were all aware of this -- they can hear me complaining and mumbling "Shit, nasusuka ako".

I tried throwing up, but nothing came out but bile. It did alleviate the discomfort for a while, and we walked home at around 7:30 p.m.

I was complaining again of humidity and nausea when we got home. I was more determined to get the sickly feeling out of my stomach, so when I found an empty space of grass near the house, I simply bent over...

And out came everything I had since lunch.

Talks about me throwing up were already spreading in the homebase by the time I had a quick shower, and some were poking jokes that maybe I was "napagkursunadahan" because of the way I walk. "Parang may sariling mundo," they said.

Two of my teammates from Capiz and one from Bacolod were not laughing at all. Instead, they asked if I had anything on me. I told them I have my Sto. Nino with me, but when I failed to show it after searching all the pockets in my cargo pants, I realized that I left it in my luggage.

Since I was refreshed and no longer nauseous, I considered the matter over and done with. Maybe it was just a small welcome for me. A reminder to be more careful when walking around.

However, the headache was still there.

The start-off clearing/meeting was scheduled after dinner. While most of the team were taking their showers and cigarette breaks outside, I was preparing my notes and setting up my laptop at the homebase's main table, with a few of the interviewers already settled in for the meeting.

And then it hit me.

Tanangaw.


Those familiar with the smell of this insect would describe it as "malansa", or "parang may nabubulok". In our hometown in Batan, it's normal to get faint whiffs of this insect in closed spaces. Usually we don't pay much attention to it -- nothing to be worried about.

But this one was far from faint -- it was flooding my nose with the strong, sickening stench.

And we're in a middle of a freakin' farmland, with winds blowing freely through the bamboo windows!

This only meant one thing...

One of us in the homebase was the target.

Vhic, one of our Bacolod teammates, looked at me and asked, "Sir, naamoy nyo?"

When I nodded, all four people seated with me at the table sprung into action, rushing outside to tell everyone else to go inside.

Of the 17 of us in the homebase, only three are non-Region VI residents. People outside of the cottage apparently didn't smell anything (which made it clearer that the target was someone inside), but they need only hear one word when they asked what's going on.

"Tanangaw."

We smelled and heard them through these windows.

Everyone rushed in, even those halfway with their shower (soap all over their bodies and all). Our Capiz teammates were already sprinkling salt on the window sills and doorways, and instructing the others to stay clear of the windows and cover as much of them with all available tarpaulins.

The scent went away as quickly as it came. I told everyone to get ready for the meeting. The ladies finished their shower at the kitchen, and shortly everyone was present at the main table.

But no one could concentrate on the meeting. The atmosphere was tense, and the air was thick with humidity -- and something else.

Almost everyone looked up from their notes when the sounds came. Two short bursts of it. Very faint, but clear.

Tik-tik.

"Sir, nandito na," said Vhic, the Bacolodnon who seem to be the most sensitive of the bunch. She was the one seated next to me when the sickening scent came.

"Just act normally, guys," I told everyone. "We'll postpone the meeting for tomorrow, but please continue editing your sheets."

Work-related chatter filled the homebase. Every now and then, Kel, the youngest in our team, would ask what's going on. The ladies would calmly explain the sound they heard, the tik-tik, and what it meant.

Then Vhic said something, and for the first time, I got worried.

"Sir, dalawa sila."

The ladies from Capiz agreed. "Nagsasagutan sila, sir. Pakinggan nyong mabuti."

It was a hot and humid night, but the frogs were croaking outside the house. But there was something weird about the croaking -- slightly higher pitched, and in short, quick succession.

Oh freakin' crap. Korokotok.

"Bag-o nga yanggaw, sir. Pinaka- aggressive," ("Newly converted, sir. The most aggressive") said Vhic.

I've only heard stories about this type of aswang, the one making the korokotok croaks. They are said to be the most aggressive, being newly-transformed and still unable to control themselves.

This was the first time I heard them up close.

"Guys, I'm sorry for all of this," I told everyone. "Hindi ko alam na magiging ganito ang reaksyon nila." 

Somebody scraped a knife against the concrete wall, and placed the knife next to my laptop.

Good grief! The aswangs outside don't need any more provocation, and I don't intend to draw a bullseye on my forehead.

Note: The knife-scraping technique only works if you are intent on sustaining the scraping until the aswang leaves the premises. Do it half-heartedly, and you only make them angrier.

And that was exactly what's happening outside -- the croaking increased, and we heard another sound.

Wak-wak.

Then the roof made a creaking sound.

Vangie handed me a rosary, and Cora a deformed bullet. For protection, they said. I wrapped the rosary in my left wrist, and started praying. Herma, one of the Capiznons, sliced a calamansi and stuffed it inside my pocket.

"Wala tayong luya, sir, kaya ito na lang muna."

Had I been alone, "they" could easily enter the cottage here.

There were 17 of us, and two of them. I believe that was the only reason they still have not entered the cottage.

What if I was alone in this cottage? I shuddered at the thought. I was only calm and brave because I was with a big group.

"Sir, matulog na lang siguro kayo sa loob ng kwarto. Hindi sila titigil hanggang nakikita ka nila dito."

I didn't argue. It was too early for bedtime, and I already marked a nice, cozy spot by the window sill to be my sleeping area for the night.

But the croaking outside was getting more frequent, and something was definitely moving on the roof -- no way will I let any part of my body be anywhere near the windows.

I laid down on the bed next to Kel, and in twenty minutes, I was snoring. Thank God for fatigue.


Oct. 24, Day Two. At 7:00 am, the team was ready to leave homebase to cover the next sitio -- which, as typical in areas as vast as Guimaras, would take about 20 minutes on single motorbike.

As I was leaving the cottage, I smelled the scent again, and that annoying headache came back.

One of our visitors last night was still there, following me. Vhic nodded when I looked at her. She can smell it, too.

I checked my pocket for the rosary and the bullet. There's no use staying alone in homebase. I should go out, and hope that the motorbike would be fast enough to take me away as quickly as possible.

The moment we entered the next sitio, the headache faded and I felt lighter.

The people in that sitio was so much friendlier. They asked us where we were staying, and offered a little warning: "Mas maraming aswang dyan kesa dito." 

We left that sitio at 7:00 p.m. The air was light and cool, and I never felt so energized since I got to Guimaras.

That was such a nice, friendly place.

And that nice feeling lasted the whole night -- my last night in Guimaras.


Oct. 25, Day Three. After one last meeting, I left the Guimaras at 11:30am, and traveled to Aklan. I arrived in Kalibo at 7:00 p.m.

Mom and I briefly dropped by Mother Stations' Aklan homebase to say hi to the team, then we proceeded to Dumaguit to attend the wake of her auntie.

Oct. 26, Day Four. I took the motorbike to homebase, and spent the day observing the interviews. At 8:00 p.m, I left homebase and rode to Dumaguit to attend the wake.

We left the wake at 11:00 p.m., and convoyed to Kalibo, with my Mom and her driver following me a few meters back.

It was already raining when we entered Kalibo. I reduced speed to just 60 kph, minding the slippery road.

As I was passing by the Chinese cemetery near the Capitol crossing, the scent hit me -- right through the helmet.

Tanangaw.

"Tangina naman o!", I shouted through my helmet, checking the side mirrors for any sign of presence behind me. All I saw were the headlights of my mom's Wrangler, following me closely.

The moment we parked at the apartment, I told everyone what happened. Inday, a family friend and a resident of Guimaras, immediately gave me some sort of oil which I applied on my stomach and at the soles of my feet. Just a counter-measure.


Oct. 27, Day Five. I met with the team in Dumaguit, and went to work for the whole day. I spoke nothing about last night's incident.

But as we were leaving the area at around 7:00 p.m., one of the Aklan team members mentioned something about tanangaw in the homebase.

I told the team I will meet them later tonight at the homebase. I proceeded to meet my mom at the wake.

I was drenched when I got there. As I entered the house, my mom told me, "Anak, kinilabutan ako nung dumating ka. Akala ko si Auntie, pero nung makita ko na ikaw yung dumating, tumayo yung balahibo ko sa braso."

My mom's cousin, Auntie Sara (who doesn't know about my Guimaras story at that time), also commented that she felt something when I arrived.

"Guin pang likidyan ako." (In Tagalog: kinilabutan ako)

That's when I told her about what happened in Guimaras, and last night. I also mentioned what I just heard from my teammates about the scent at the homebase.

"Mami, tingin mo, sinundan ako hanggang dito?"

Maybe, she said. We decided it would be wise to go home early tonight.

On our way home, we stopped by the homebase -- just to confirm something. We spoke with the team, and asked about the tanangaw.

The scent came shortly after I left the homebase yesterday, they said.

It's confirmed.

Whoever welcomed us in Guimaras has followed me all the way to Aklan, and was searching for me at the homebase.

Mami, whose dissertation was about aswangs, decided that I should already consult a fell-pledged mediko.

This one is powerful, she said. "Hindi enough si Inday para labanan ito."

Oct. 28, Last Day. My flight to Manila was at 12:30 p.m. There was still time to visit the local mediko.

It was 6:30 a.m. when we dropped by the mediko's house. She was already up and sweeping her frontyard when we arrived.

She invited us in, and had me sit next to her. She touched a fresh egg three times on  my head -- one at the forehead, and at either temple, and asked me to hold the egg at my stomach while I tell her what happened.

I briefly described what we were doing in Guimaras, how I was speaking on the phone while walking alone, and how sick I felt later.

After that, the first thing the mediko said was, "Mataba siyang babae na maigsi ang buhok, at yung bahay niya ay nasa gilid lang ng kalsada malapit doon sa dinaanan mo."

She's absolutely correct about the woman's description. And when I asked how she knew it, she said, "Nakikita ko ang aura niya. Nahawa lang ang isang ito sa byenan niya. Bago lang siya."

When she cracked the egg on a plate, the yolk was broken, and it formed into something very distinct.

A bat-like figure.

"Wak-wak ang isang ito," said the mediko, pointing at the broken yolk to where the head is, the wings, and the supposedly severed torso. "Kaya niya ring maging paniki, kaya ka nasundan dito."

She won't allow me to take a photo of the yolk, so there's a sketch here of how I best remember the shape was.

She touched another egg on my head, and had me press it against my stomach for another 5 minutes. When she broke it, it was intact.

"Pinapanood ka niya ngayon. Tingnan mo. Ito ang dalawang mata nya."

True enough, there were two eye-like swirls on the egg yolk -- like Rinnegan (refer to Naruto) -- staring back at us like, no matter what angle you take.

She flipped the yolk over to reveal two identical wavy lines, perfectly equidistant from each other -- like a road.

"Eto yung kalsadang dinaanan mo, paliko-liko, at dyan mo siya nasalubong."

She's correct, again.

She made me take a spoonful of bitter-tasting oil, and gave me a small bottle of the same oil and some herbs for the next three nights.

And so for three nights, I smelled of oil and herbs.

Oh, and I was not allowed to bathe for three days, either.

Reconnect

My mother is safe back home after spending a day and a half bonding with her college buddies. This is their second time to reunite after over 45 years since their graduation at PNU.

It began last year when four of them found one another in fezbuk (cue that nice FB moment music here) and decided to meet up for an afternoon of kwentuhan in Cavite. There they agreed to find the others, and make it an annual event.

And after a year of searching, last Thursday *drum roll please*, there are now five of them. My mom flew all the way to Manila to meet the same three people as last year, and another balikbayan.

I won't go into the details at the trouble my mother went through to see her college buddies. For someone with so many responsibilities, I'm amazed at the importance she gives to reconnecting with old friends.

And in some ways, it inspired me, too.

I wasn't able to attend my high school reunion last month. Too much work, I guess. It's election year.

But, of course, it would have been possible had I really, really wanted to.

The buzz in the batch's private fezbuk chat says 2016 is the next reunion.

Great.

Another election year.

More talks on poverty

Just monitoring the news.

Anyway, it wasn't shown in this news clip below (which begins somewhere around 32:00 in the video below), but I think I mentioned that a declining hunger (Question: Nakaranas ba kayo ng gutom at walang makain nitong nakaraang tatlong buwan?) among families despite rising self-rated poverty (Question: Saan po ninyo ilalagay ang inyong pamilya sa card na ito [show card with words MAHIRAP and HINDI MAHIRAP; the space/line between the two words is also an option]) is an indication of effective hunger mitigation or containment efforts on the part of the government, considering the number of natural calamities experienced by the country before the survey.

Just now

Yes, it is just now that I am opening this little box of happiness hee hee. I got this on a sale during a toy convention before my boithday -- a gift for myself. Yep, I still love this sort of things.

It's just now that I get to breathe normally after completing another project from one of our biggest partners. It's uncanny how every year they come up with something big for us to do -- within the month of my birthday. ^^ Oh well, that's work and we're thankful for them.

And so, with my handy-dandy nipper and a smile on my face, I'm all set to have myself another Gundam. ^^

Thanks to long weekends.

***

Just now I saw another good news that a friend residing in the US East Coast is safe and doing well. Hurray to fezbook! Many are still affected by aftermath of superstorm Sandy, and I pray that things over there be restored to normal soon.

As usual, it's in this extraordinarily trying times what we get to see extraordinary acts of kindness. Cheers!

11/11/11

Yet another binary date that generated so much interest. ^^

I grabbed part of this fanfare and secretly hoped for something special to happen.

Truth be told, since our old AUV was brought to the service center for maintenance, I hoped that on this day somebody will place a Jose Cuervo Gold tequila, salt, lime, and shot glasses on the common work table. And people at work will join in for a nice Friday night inuman.

That, for me, is special. ^^ I miss the days when I can do just that -- bring out the booze and effortlessly lead Tech into forgetting work for a while -- and ultimately forget themselves, literally hehe.

But morning went by without anything special.

Oh wait! I called my father-in-law to ask him something about our old Crosswind. He has a BS in Industrial Education, major in Automotive, so I run to him for a second opinion on anything related to engines, cars, and motoring. He may not be savvy with the cellphone, but he is updated with the latest in the automotive industry.

Maybe that would count as special. ^^

Other than that, morning went by like any other day.

Until 1:00 p.m. came and made 11/11/11 unforgettable.

***

Lately, Joan has been immersed in a new interest -- Naruto fanfics.

I learned from her a jargon used in fanfics: AU (alternate universe).

Wikipedia defines AU as "a type or form of fan fiction in which canonical facts of setting or characterization in the universe being explored or written about are deliberately changed."

"Stories that fall into this definition are usually what-ifs, where possibilities arising from different circumstances or character decisions are explored. Unlike regular fan fiction, which generally remains within the boundaries of the canon set out by the author, alternative universe fiction writers like to explore the possibilities of pivotal changes made to characters' history, motivations or environment."

***

11/11/11. 1:00 PM.

I became part of an alternate universe.

I exist, but not. ^^

Culmination

Almost ten years since I finished Frank Herbert's Chapterhouse: Dune, today I turned the first few pages of Hunters of Dune, the first of two books by Brian Herbert, Frank Herbert's son, and Kevin J. Anderson that will end the Dune series.

I guess I've held back long enough. After the exhilarating ride I had from the original six Dune novels, I used to think that no other Dune novel is worth reading if isn't by Frank Herbert.

But surely the years would have washed any fear of disappointment I had. I'm re-entering the world of Dune with fresh imagination.

It's time to end it. ^^

***

Today, mother stations is finally at the culmination of its Silver Jubilee. I feel sooo effing tired, and strangely so drained.

Just a few more days. I pray I have enough strength left for a good show on August 26.

There is something else with this fatigue, though. Something troublesome.

Very soon I will have to deal with it.

Unexpected

When the sports committee posted the team assignments a few weeks before the sportsfest, one team was expected to be the strongest, fastest, and the most winnable of all.

Because over half of its members are men.

I guess the organizers designed the teaming to be fully random, save for one condition that ensures at least one man per team. It did not, however, control for the maximum allowed number of men per team.

And so this team, which has four men and two women, was seen as the team to beat.

But after two rounds of bowling, and a delightful round of dodgeball, banana-eating race, t-shirt relay, and paper plane flying race, this said team had the least number of wins, and ended up at the bottom of the overall ranking.

Our team, composed of one man and five women (one of them still healing from a broken pelvis after an accident, while another has spinal problems), got the highest average team-score in bowling and ended up the overall champion.

The best bowler award came as a surprise.

The original rule was that the winner will be the one with the highest score in a single game. After two rounds, everyone knew who won.

And it wasn't me.

I didn't get the highest ever score in a single game. I was writing an urgent media release in between rolls so there's no way I could bring myself to break the 200+ mark (asa pa haha!).

The plan changed, however, when the stations' big boss pointed out a flaw in the original rule.

During the awards ceremony, the organizers announced that, after their meeting with the boss the previous day, the rule has been revised to put value on "consistency" instead of "one-time stellar performance".

And so the event's biggest surprise came that morning: I got the award, for having the highest average score.

I just love surprises. Is it obvious in my silly grin? ^^

Sleep

It's 2:30 in the morning. Just finished Arnold Arre's graphic novel, "Martial Law Babies". My Ragnarok Online PH client is patching in the background while I review the data from mother station's latest survey.

I just formulated the news headline that will come out on Monday. I can't wait to discuss the latest update about people's satisfaction with how democracy works in this country.

It's been almost six years since I last saw my hunter and assassin in Ragnarok Online. These are the very first characters I created in the world of MMORPG.

I'm not playing them again, though. They have in them a lot of memories -- mostly wonderful -- that I dare not disturb their rest. They will stay immortalized, safely tucked in the pay-to-play server.

Instead, I'll just create new characters in the free-to-play server. I've been wanting to see the features of the newer server Valkyrie.

The Ragnarok client is done patching, and I hear that same, unforgettably haunting opening music at the log-in screen.

Memories, memories...

But my new archer will have to wait some other time.

And I'll write about the rest of the data later.

It's 3:45 a.m. I must get some sleep.

(My goodness... fezbook's news feed is still buzzing with activity, mostly by local friends. Amazing. Is this the new meaning of Saturday dawn?)

Goodnight. ^^

The SWS-TAF friendship games

The Asia Foundation (TAF) has been mother station's longest institutional partner, going way back in 1980's when TAF gave SWS its first grant.

In my career in social research, my most memorable and fulfilling projects had been with them.

After so many years working with TAF, it was good to see them -- for the first time -- in their sports attire, talk about something else aside from projects, and engage them in a friendly competition last Saturday at the Timberland Nature and Sports Club in San Mateo, Rizal.

TAF did well in the 3-on-3 basketball, free-throw and 3-point shootout, volleyball, and three-to-five-legged race, while SWS excelled in cheering competition, billiards, "going to market", tug-of-war, wall climbing, and pool relay.

By evening, we all shared that love for wine, beer, and videoke (and Glee! Haha!).

Cheers, TAF!

(Photo credits to Mae L.)

***

I know I can swim since elementary days, and I have taken 4 units of swimming as PE. But it was only last Saturday when I was finally comfortable calling myself a swimmer.

I can swim fast. And if I practice and polish my techniques some more, I can go really fast and far.

But I'll leave it at just "fast" for now. It's nice to know I'm good at something.

And I was reminded how important it is to stay fit and healthy.

So high

For the latest Philippine news stories and videos, visit GMANews.TV

Destroy and build

There are four things I want utterly destroyed this very moment: 1) the new Monday uniform of a certain government institution; 2) its new Tuesday uniform; 3) its new Wednesday uniform, and; 4) its new Thursday uniform.

I'm not blaming the designer. Not anymore. They will always stay consistent to their unique styles, even if at times such styles may be inappropriate. I'm putting all the blame and responsibility to the committee -- if at all there was one -- that approved those designs.

The designs are unique and the construction is sound, but in my humble opinion, the uniforms scream of something else -- something distant from what the institution represent.

Anyway, it all depends now on the people who will be wearing them. If majority of them like the new set of uniforms, then indeed the world is changing.

***

My friend Cez inspired me to go back to keeping a journal.

I'm going to enjoy making this one -- the fifth since I began in 2001 and stopped in 2007. The office has been accumulating quite a pile of recyclable bond paper after the elections. ^^

***

It's been so long since I've done anything that involves creativity (the aesthetic kind, that is). Judging by how I worked in the past, it's a kind of task that requires a different kind of inspiration.

As the office's 25th anniversary celebration draws near, I'm in desperate need of this particular kind of inspiration.

Mercifully, a piece of that familiar mix of feelings came back yesterday -- driven, informed, updated, motivating, challenging, and inspiring.

How I missed that feeling!

It's been a while. Thank you thank you!

Memory gaps

The young journalists waited expectantly as mother station’s Papa Bear reflected on his response. They just finished reciting the questions they have prepared for him. In that pause, I snapped a few candid shots of our unexpected visitors.

Ten minutes ago, I was summoned by Papa Bear to observe while he’s being interviewed.

“Bring a recorder,” he said.

It was an unusual request, one that I normally get when we’re up to something more serious.

“They’re from (name of organization).”

Darn it! I’m bringing my camera, too.

I was poised take down notes the moment I sat down the round table, directly facing the two journalists, ready to jot down whatever these guests were up to.

But the first set of questions was pretty standard, and Papa Bear coolly and efficiently answered them.

As the interview proceeded, however, I noticed something was amiss. The questions were coming more and more from Papa Bear, and the skin under his collar was slowly changing color.

The unchanging pleasant expressions on the journalists’ faces, and the kind of questions they were asking, confirmed my suspicion: they have no idea at all – zero, zilch, nada – what their organization did, or haven’t done, to mother station.

I let go of my pen, leaned back, and watched the young journalists with wonder. Has it been that long? Was it neglect on the part of these younglings’ superiors to send them here to mother station without any idea of what happened in the past?

Or is it because they simply don’t care anymore about history, much more bother rectifying the deeds of their own organization?

And so the next half hour was spent Papa Bear educating them of what transpired ten years ago.

I hope those young journalists see the whole point of what happened during their visit. If they really embody their organization’s claim of being fair and transparent, it would do their organization good to rectify their own history.

Only then can both organizations finally close that particular chapter of democracy with smiling faces.

And I don’t have to bring a voice recorder and camera next time they send someone over.

***

Yesterday, Maundy Thursday, Joan and I chanced upon a local romantic movie that was partly about how neither party can move forward without the other clearing up the past.

I was only previously aware of the movie One More Chance, starred by Bea Alonzo and John Lloyd Cruz, because a fellow techie knows its famous lines – about breaking up and moving on – by heart.

Can anyone fully move on when something’s amiss in your shared history?

Perhaps, like in the movie, a simple question or a confession could have made everything okay.

And that it’s never too late to do so.

***

My mother has been doing a good job documenting the lives of her children and grandchildren. Neatly archived in her home in Aklan are bits and pieces of our lives – photos, old school uniforms, medals, diplomas, trophies, sketches, and even my recycled toys.

This is the place I’d go to if I ever lose myself.

But there are gaps, of course.

The most obvious would be the absence of baby photos in my albums. The yearbook for both my highschool and college never saw the light of day. And, maybe the most painful of all, my earliest creations of recycled toys were lost.

It can’t be helped, I guess. Some memories are bound to be lost, through nobody’s fault.

***

In my evening jogging sessions, warming up is usually spent on stretching and brisk walking.

However, when the back entrance to the UP Theater is empty, it’s a chance for me to practice some TMD kata.

As the body isn’t as supple and strong as it used to be, kata numbers 2 to 4 could really warm me up, if not tire me out entirely. The memory of the movements is vivid, alive, and wonderful.

Amid the motions, a totally different move would occasionally slip in – awkward, wide, arching, and dance-like.

Definitely not any of the TMD moves. But the memory of that beautiful, graceful move is broken, lost.

This one is my fault, and one of the saddest moments of my life.

***

Rafiki, Smores, blue, Naruto, Chuck Bass…

It’s nice to be reminded of, and again take a closer look at, your favorites. Funny how some changed, and others stayed the same.

A blessed weekend to all.

New light

The coming May 2010 elections will be my fifth national election since I joined mother station. And just as in the past four, I will not be casting my vote this year.

It’s not that I’ve lost faith in democracy. On the contrary, with all its flaws, I marvel at the whole process that I rather step back and watch it unfold from an emotionally sanitized distance.

The elections of 1998, 2001, and 2004 will always be my best experiences of national elections. From getting down and dirty setting up regional command centers (I love you, Region VI!), training field staff, doing the interviews, to spending long, sleepless, nerve-wracking hours getting the data ready for broadcast.

In 2007, I was not given any field assignment, and it seems I won’t be getting any outdoor adventure this coming election either. Being the station’s “communication guy” requires me to stay put in the office.

Oh well… I just miss going on field at the crossroads of Philippine history – personally asking the questions and listening to the answers.

Anyway, the excitement generated there at the frontlines is not so different compared to the indescribable moment as you watch the numbers reveal how the sample has spoken, and telling the latest story to everyone else.

This year’s automated election – a first in Philippine history – amid the colorful political show the major players are putting up, is putting a whole new light to an old exercise.

It’s scary, but exciting.

******

I’ve been swimming the beaches of Napti since my family moved to Batan, Aklan in 1983. Last January we paid a visit to one where, once upon a time, I nearly drowned.

It’s not the same beach I used to know. There are fewer coconut trees now, and there is nothing but a long stretch of sand in places where houses used to be.

This beach, like the others lining the coast of Batan, is slowly disappearing. The coastline is eroding at an alarming rate of at least 10 centimeters a year.

But in the face of its slow destruction, the beach has become more beautiful.

I hope the locals find a way to preserve the beaches, soon.

******

Oh no… here comes yet another fezbook moment.

I’ve already expressed my initial reaction when my brother and sister connected with me in FB.

It felt creepy. The idea of any family member getting to know my virtual lifestyle was something I did not approve of at first.

But with FB, I guess it’s just a matter of time.

True enough, I now have nephews, nieces, cousins, and my cousin’s children in my friends list. Uh-oh haha!

But that’s just a minor moment of resistance. For the most part, fezbook did good in keeping me in touch with old friends, finding new ones, and reconnecting me with those that were lost from my sights for some time.

Hey Jov! Our fezbook kwentuhan is giving me a new way of looking at ancient highschool history. Thanks haha! Keep in touch.

To Ria and Sanctius folks, I see you now under a whole new light. Cheers!

For the soul

Feel-good moments are extremely hard to come by these days, and oftentimes it takes too much effort to snatch measly bits and pieces of it.

So much effort that, at times, you end up wondering if it’s worth it at all.

Anyway, the last I remember – the one that didn’t require effort at all – would be the time I turned 34.

Yes, I love it when I get another year older. It means another year overdue of the age I believe my original lifespan would have been. (That would be 30, thanks to a recurring dream I used to have.)

This year wasn’t so different from the last one, and maybe from the three others before that: I was again in the office at the first hour of my birthday.

However, the people surrounding me in those first few hours had always been the ones that define the moment – always different, always wonderful.

The Techies and all who brought the videoke to its breaking point (tsk tsk haha!) never failed to cheer things up. And thanks Anne and Sergey for bringing me to the KMS party –

I had fun, guys. Thank you.

And for the past three years, the best part of the day would always be coming home to Joan. ^^

***

We’re used to calamities. During the early parts of my childhood spent in Metro Manila, I had my share of riding rubber tubes and wading through deep floods in Pandacan. When my family moved to Aklan, I had my taste of mind-blowing super-typhoons and freaky flashfloods.

But I only have good memories in all those experiences – playing with classmates in the floods after classes were suspended, gathering fruits from fallen trees around the town, standing in the beach wearing a crash helmet while waiting for the gust of wind to lift me off the ground (it never happened, though, maybe my body was too streamlined to achieve liftoff), breathing lungfulls of cool, crisp, leaf-scented air after the storm, and spending another day or two at a friend’s house while waiting for the roads to be clear of floods.

Back then, there were no fears of leptospirosis, no mudslides, no murderous floods or mudfloods, and barely are there scenes of people crying on their rooftops, or running or swimming for their lives, or people begging for help and mercy on national TV.

Either I was brain-dead back then, or something is really wrong today.

***

Every morning since typhoons Ondong and Pepeng, I listen to the radio on my way to work, and get snatches of feel-good moments from news of people helping others, sometimes in the most unique way – boxes of condoms and contraceptive pills donated to evacuation centers were the least I expected to hear.

But hey, just keep the help coming.

And everywhere in Facebook, blogs, and online news, there are people reaching out a helping hand.

Cheers to you all!

Of course, one has to endure all the bad in majority of the news to get these bits of feel-good ones. It’s all about being selective.

***

Natural selection.

Here’s a term stuck in my head recently. Life is all about making choices, and from those choices or decisions arise the fate of not just your own but those of others.

If a team of multi-tasking individuals was given one project too many, each one of these individuals will autonomously exercise a selection process determining which among their many tasks they will prioritize.

And which to sacrifice.

Ultimately, the collective choices of these individuals will determine the fate of a project.

I know now how it feels like to lose every spare tire, every lifeboat, and all reserve fuel needed to finish a project within the deadline.

Sigh. First time for everything. But hopefully never again.

***

This is it.

What can I say?

When it comes to what he does, Michael is perfection.

***

I’m finding it so hard to resist these cute and satisfyingly lethal little characters.

Luna Online by Run Up Interactive Corp. is slowly becoming my worst nightmare – an addiction. It’s been feeding my love for “hybrid” characters.

Gaah! Please let this not be the Ragnarok-type of addiction, or it will ruin my life. Haha!

My first duel -- what a rush (especially if you've won haha)!

Happiness and well-being

Salamat, President Cory Aquino.

July 16-23, Florence, Italy. My presentation at the 9th Conference of the International Society of Quality of Life Studies was about satisfaction with democracy and quality of life in the Philippines.

It was scheduled at 8:30 am, and apparently it’s a time that most of the conference participants find difficult to attend. It was hard for me to wake up early too. The Italian summer nights are so short – it’s there where I first wore sunglasses at 8pm, and the sun still rises at 6am.

Few participants made it to my talk. Thanks to four of my colleagues in SWS (the five of us were the only Filipinos out of over 300 participants) and those of my co-presenters’ from mainland China, Singapore, and London, the beautiful, ancient dungeon that was converted into a classroom didn’t look so empty and lonely.

It was a 20-minute talk, which I find too short if one is to discuss over 50 years of Philippine history as a nation. So I breezed through the highlights of the country’s experience with democracy.

I placed special emphasis on 1986 – President Cory, People Power, and restoration of democracy. The regular study of democracy, subjective well-being, and public opinion in the Philippines became possible as certain liberties such as elections and freedom of speech were re-established after 13 years of dictatorship.

So how’s democracy doing so far? Unfortunately, the democracy that President Cory re-established eventually gave birth to a new breed of corruption. But while we are sick of it, the idea of democracy is something we, as a people, are not ready to abandon.

There’s always hope. We’ll see how democracy plays come Elections 2010.

****

July 16-27, Florence, Pisa, Rome, and the Vatican, Italy. There’s extra happiness everywhere.

It’s in every local beer I occasionally had during lunch and dinner. Nothing compared to my all-time favorite San Mig Pale Pilsen, but their delightfully potent 4.5% to 5% alcohol buzz took away all my pre-presentation jitters.

It’s in the lovely scooters that dominate the narrow, cobbled streets of Florence. Here, these pocket rockets look so pristine and classy, far from the ones we see in the treacherous streets of Manila.

It’s in all those delish pasta, pizza, Mediterranean foods, and gelato! Yum!

It’s in all the beautiful sights, artwork, pieces of history, and symbols of faith that used to be just pictures. To see them, touch them, walk through them, breathe them, climb them, do all sorts of poses next to them, and pray before them was a wonderful experience.

It’s in that very rare chance to run into someone whom you haven’t seen for more than ten years, in a place that you least expect it. In case you’re reading this, Van, it’s good to see you again. Mukhang pinakyaw n’yo yung nasa souvenir shop ng St. Peter’s basilica haha!

It’s in every little chance to see something good. The ice-cold water that comes from every fountain scattered around Rome, the amazed looks from locals and tourists alike every time I deploy my handy-dandy extendable camera monopod, and that nice feeling of not hearing a single car horn during the entire visit.

I had some share of unpleasantries, but not enough to deserve mention in this blog.

****

Well-being. Happiness. All subjective concepts that can be gauged by equally subjective measures.

President Cory ushered in a way of life that has been giving legitimacy to the kind of democracy we know now. This democracy has evolved – it’s crazy, and we’re not afraid to let the democratic institutions know how much we’re dissatisfied with them. But like an old car that has served us through the years, we don't see this particular democracy as something that needs to be replaced.

It just needs fixing.

When I went to Italy, I refused to be a tourist, but instead be a guest. With Joan’s help, I tried to learn some of the basic etiquette in this locality: I kept my voice down when speaking in Filipino or English, I greet shop and restaurant owners and staffs in Italian, never starting a conversation directly in English, and I try to be mindful where I point and shoot my camera.

The returns are subtle but measurable, and worth every bit of the effort --

A lovely smile, or an extra scoop of my favorite nocciola gelato.

You'll find more photos of my visit to Italy here. Ciao!

Over-react

As of blog time, I’m still feeling weak after a stressful day.

Writer’s block, inexplicable negative aura in the workplace, and now fluctuating cellphone signal wiped out my already depleted emotional reserves.

I’m used to the first two, they happen on a regular basis. The third one caught me off-guard today.

When you can’t reach someone who was trying to contact you just seconds ago, the mind could conjure the worse possible scenario.

Did the phone lose power? Maybe. Or was it turned off? Is the person okay? Is there an emergency?

When these questions go unanswered in the first sixty seconds, I’ll be a whirlwind in the next three minutes.

Mercifully, the signal came back after several agonizing minutes. Within that time I have dialed five numbers -- three of which did not answer, while the other referred me to the fifth person, who also came up blank.

Panic. It doesn’t happen to me often, but what an unpleasant feeling it is.

I have a tendency to over-react, it seems. In the end, I realize I have too many unfounded worries, leading to unnecessary drama. So sorry about that.

I’m glad everything’s okay.

Amazed

Boredom.

I have secretly dreaded this word since I took on a bit of mentoring role at work. I must have seen one too many colleague complaining of boredom just before they filed their resignation.

But it occurred to me that I owe a lot to boredom: it was what spurred me to look for other things to do within the organization, eventually creating a new group (even if it’s a one-man group haha) and another slash in my job title.

And thanks to boredom, I realized that if I say it repeatedly with that certain tone, my favorite name for a girl sounds like that of a porn star’s if coupled with my surname.

Darn. Haha!

Who’s afraid of boredom? After all, it’s what makes us human and not plain automatons.

***

Not so long ago, matters about virtual online gaming life crossing over the real one were usually limited to light topics like this one:

You know you’ve been playing too much MMORPG when…
- You think you can teleport or warp to get home after work.
- You start referring to your clothes and belongings as equipment.
- You challenge someone "PVP na lang" instead of "suntukan na lang".
- You yell “pa heal!” when you get hurt and "pa buff!" when you're tired.
- Your answering machine message says "AFK".
- You give your family a guild or clan name.
- You hit a cat with your car and you go back to see if there were any item drops.
- You sit down on the ground when you’re tired.

The online community has gone a long way since then. Right now I’m watching a channel on TV which features events and activities of one of the country’s leading game publishers. Amazing how the country's top gamers have been elevated to celebrity status, and online gaming has taken on a real, breathing, and dynamic lifestyle.

So real that it’s found its way to the local courts.

Thanks to my wife and her friends in the legal circle, I recently heard an account of a gamer complaining to a city prosecutor about his online character getting hacked and stripped of all its valuable equipment.

By sheer coincidence, on that same day I received a text message from our PerfectWorld clan marshall informing us that one of our officers was victimized by a hacker.

The clan officers recorded the in-game conversation between the hacker and our clan members through a series of screenshots as the hacker took control of our officer’s character.

It was eerie reading how our officer struggled to regain control of his character – two different persons with totally different ways of speaking (or typing, to be more accurate) alternately emerging from just one character.

It was like watching an exorcism in progress, and it was enough to send a certain chill down my spine.

The hacker got away with valuables and rare in-game items that took a lot of hard work, long hours, and, of course, real money to acquire.

There are people out there who can really pull off this sort of heist, and I doubt there are enough legal and institutional measures in place to catch them.

***

I’ve been asking too many whys lately – from the latest development in the “Nicole”–Daniel Smith saga, to how I feel, think, and react to certain aspects of life.

Resolving the latter on my own is easy, but my lifelong (adult life, that is) habit of approaching any research question by triangulation compels me to seek answers from others.

I may, at times, get tired of reality, but I doubt if I will ever lose this wonder. Believe it or not, it takes so little to amaze me – so little that I sometimes ask myself, “Where in the freakin’ world have I been?”

I’m just grateful I’m blessed to have met more evolved versions of myself, people who’ve been there and done that, and good folks who have the patience to listen to my questions and bear my naïveté.

Thank you.



Omg... so emo. Again. Haha!