This Angry Man

December 25, 2008:For the past several years, my Christmas eves were the same – Ordering food to be delivered in time for dinner and then getting ready to sneak out for the night depending on who or where will adopt me.

So what does an atheist doing preparing for Christmas eve?! I tend to view Christmas as part of the tradition, nothing religious.In fact, isn’t that how most people see and celebrate Christmas these days?! It’s sort of obligatory, something so you won’t feel left out.Besides, your friends and inaanaks are not going to let you off just because you don’t share the same religion.

Christmas eves like most weekends in our neighborhood tends to be noisy and rowdy with the requisite videoke assaulting from all directions. Occupants of almost every other house just have to do something. Videoke aside, they’d turn on blaring music, move the inuman to the street as if extending into the sidewalk wasn’t enough, ihawan, letting loose the children so they won’t mess up the house, the endless thud of basketball on the pavement up to the wee hours and then the occasional fights.

But all those get multiplied several times during Christmas and New Year’s eve.I just can’t stand it so for most weekends (the sweldo ones specially), I stay away either killing time in coffee shops, 24-hour Burger Kings, in my office or some dark nook in the city (don’t ask me what I do, nothing illegal, it’s just between me, the walls and the occasional other dark nookers).

As I took a short nap after dinner, I could hear rain falling…… then nothing…….really nothing.Earlier, I could hear people starting to do ‘mic test!’ and now, nothing.

It was a miracle, the rain.For years I have realized how the start of the rainy season seems to put the brakes on these rowdy pastimes, but on Christmas eve, it was completely unexpected and completely different.

There was the pleasant Christmassy and rainy day wet smell and feel.Maybe our version of the white Christmas. It certainly didn’t put a damper on the celebration, just appropriately moved them indoors where I suppose family and friends could be closer.

Even after the rain had stopped, the pleasantness was still there.I could hear the parties going on, but not at the head-splitting volume they used to be in.Most of the noises were still coming from the rear to our house but they weren’t that loud anymore.And the street we’re in, it was really quiet.Probably because of the long vacation, many families opted to spend their Christmas somewhere else.

With Christmas lights hanging above the street, it was an enjoyable sight and feeling. I thought “sana ganon palagi”. I know it will not last, but at least even for a night, it was something I was savoring as I stood near our gate looking at the street, the neighborhood.

I didn’t ‘escape’ from our neighborhood on a Christmas eve for the first time in more than a decade. I stayed up late eating, reading books and texting. Before I went to sleep, I didn’t set my alarm clock so that I can sleep as much as I want, something I wasn’t able to do for a long time now.

Unfortunately at 8:30am Christmas day, the videokes came with a vengeance …………blaring……from all sides ………… with very bad singers!

Fortunately, the malls are open 12noon onwards.Time to make my escape.

:p

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June 17 2008: It’s no
secret that I like Iced tea very much. Not only do I like, but I think I’m close to being addicted to it. There’s nothing like icy-cold iced tea (even
if it sounds redundant) on hot summer days.

I think the idea of bottomless iced tea is the greatest
invention since iced tea, except in some establishments where you basically get
ice in what seems like colored water. 

Iced tea has one of the cheapest ingredients and production
process specially if you make it on service site. Is it any wonder then that at one time I was
going into the tea and iced tea business (before C2 even thought of it). I still think it’s a good idea and the
potential still great but then so is the capital needed to achieve a scale in
which you can be profitable. There’s no
better business than ‘tubong lugaw’ but ‘tubong kape or tubong iced tea’ as
insiders will tell you.

Which is why you can tell how greedy a business
establishment is by how they dilute their iced tea. My worst experience was in Starbucks Araneta
center. I practically finished my
graduate paper alternately sipping overpriced hot choco and iced tea in
Starbucks. I’ve learned to tell the
barista that I want my iced tea ‘less ice’ because if you don’t they fill the
cup with at least 2/3 ice. That one time
in Araneta center, the barista did that but then refused to pour in more ‘tea’
saying its their standard. So, not only
is the drink overpriced but now I got it only ¾ filled. I told her I ordered ‘iced’ tea, tea being
the noun and ice being the adjective, not the other way around - a glass of ice laced with tea!

A decade ago I was in Puerto Galera and ordered an iced tea
with my meal, the waitress didn’t know what it was so she served me steeped
black tea with ice in it (which technically is correct). I had to ask for calamansi and sugar and
ended up making the iced tea myself while they watch what this crazy guy is
doing.

I do make iced tea at home when I’m feeling industrious and
I got praised quite often for the iced tea I make. But I’m lazy and if iced tea beckons, then
easy-open-and-ready-to-drink iced tea is irresistible. Making iced tea is work
– boil water, steep the tea in the tea pot, prepare the pitcher with the sugar,
pour the tea unto pitcher, add flavor and then the hardest part – wait for it
to chill (either overnight or until I got home from work). Which is why it’s
discouraging because whenever it’s time for me to harvest the fruit of my
labor, my sister have already enjoyed most of it.

On any given hot day, you’ve probably seen me tagging a
one-liter bottle of C2 iced tea (peach flavored to be exact). When I have iced tea, I don’t have to remind
myself to drink enough liquids – a requirement if I want to avoid the painful
experience of kidney stone again. The
iced tea beckons, while water, unless you’re really thirsty, drinking the
recommended daily volume is a chore.

So it was hard for me to do when I started working on my
budget and realize I could save a substantial amount by cutting among the many
‘luxuries’ I have – iced tea. Not just
C2 but drinks in restaurants and fast food which can take up a huge chunk of
the total bill. 

Pretty easy theoretically considering that there is no
shortage of potable water around where I work. But water is water, once you’ve tasted flavored water, it’s hard to go
back. Which is how I now understand my
Mom’s sometimes craving for softdrinks. I’m never a fan of softdrinks and always preferred plain cold or iced
water to carbonated drinks but when iced tea became a common beverage offered,
I got stuck. Food taste better with iced
tea, which is again my Mother’s usual line.

This year, I promised to minimize spending on ready-to-drink
iced tea ………… after summer, of course. Imagine how proud I am if a day passes
without spending on iced tea. But I also
seemed to come up with the slightest and most ridiculous excuse for buying iced
tea – feeling depressed (iced tea makes me a little less depressed), stressed
out (iced tea chill me out and help relaxes me), feeling a little bit happier
(which is rare so an iced tea to complete the feeling is in order), just want
to relax (which is rare so iced tea is a good companion for relaxation) and the
‘lets-celebrate-for-not-spending-on-iced-tea-today’.

Imagine how glad I was when I discovered that a 1-liter
bottle of cold C2 peach iced tea cost only PhP25.00 in Julie’s bakeshop than
PhP38.00 in Mini-stop. But the luck ran
out quickly when a few weeks after, they raised the price to PhP35.00. Shocked, I asked the the counter-girl again
to make sure I heard right. I did, it’s
like a price hike overnight or something. I jokingly (and hurting inside) ask the girl if there was gasoline in my
iced tea because so far only gasoline has gone up that much. Well, the shock continued when mini-stop
hiked it to PhP42.00.

Mumbling to myself that it was like drinking gasoline, I
realized that compared to a liter of gas, the iced tea I am buying cost almost
as much. While I was happy to always say
I don’t really have (direct) fuel price-hike problems like most car owners
because I commute, it was like being slammed hard in the face to wake up to the
fact that over the past few years, I was guzzling a kind of gas myself. So, it’s expensive ready-to-drink iced tea
only on special occasions…….. if I can help it.

In the meantime, could softdrink with its carbonated gas
serve as my LPG alternative??

:p

November 19 2007: Benjie
says he’s coming home for Christmas. December 06 to be exact so we were pretty happy and excited to spend the
Holidays with him again after 3 years. Then he texted, his coworker’s Father passed away and he had to stay in
Jeddah as a reliever. Argh!

Texting with overseas friends can be frustrating, you never
know if they got your reply which is usually done thru their Philippine number
except for a few instances when you cringe at the realization that you replied
to their number abroad (10 or 15 pesos) or chikka.com (PhP2.50). The exchange is hardly real-time because it
cost a lot for them to text from abroad, the messages tend to be limited.

So I waited for Benjie to get online and chat with him thru
YM. He has his webcam and mic on, I on
the other hand was using dial-up so I prefer to stick with text chatting. And even with text chat, sometimes the
exchanges could be confusing. I would be
asking him one thing and he will be answering a question awhile back which I
will mistake for another one.

Anyway, it was obvious he was chatting with a couple of
people and I was inquiring if people I know where among them. Then he said ‘darren is now online’. I said ‘give him my email add I want to chat
with him’ (because I didn’t want to fumble on how to add a friend)

After a few more exchanges, Benjie had to go. Then I got a request to be added as someone’s
friend. The name ‘blue’ is not familiar
but I thought it’s either some spammer or probably Darren given that both he
and Benjie have the penchant for using pseudonyms behind pseudonyms. So I
relented and got connected.

The first line I got was ‘hi dan told me to chat with you
asl’. All small letters and no
punctuation marks. Darren doesn’t use
punctuation marks even in mobile text messaging but it didn’t sound like
Darren. But wondered why would Benjie
ask somebody to chat with me, it’s not like I’m desperate for social contact
and I’m not in any mood to chat with total strangers (this is a sign of getting
old). I said ‘u mean dante?’ Dante is
Benjie’s pseudonym behind his internet handle. Then blue ask for my facepic. I
said ‘sorry, I don’t have those anymore because I’m now older and no longer a
prolific internet social animal’. Which
is true, because except for email, work and porn, I hardly do anything else
online.

Besides,…….. a….s….l?? If anything I remember about chatting, asl was the rudest remark you can
use as an introduction. It’s like saying
if you don’t fit those three shallow criteria I won’t chat with you. Anyway, the kid turned out to be quite
polite. But that’s another story.

I realized then that I am quite old in internet years. To the internet world, people like us in our
mid 30s (ayan buking na) are already considered the elders. The cyberworld has changed and I’m left
behind in the Victorian age of the internet where people were polite (or
pretended to be) and responsible.

Spamming was unheard of and so was hacking. If ever, computer crimes were directed at big
corporations’ computer systems, not little netizens like me. The internet, created to survive a nuclear
attack which links the US government, military and academe was an exclusive club of people that matters. When its use spread to civilian non-military
use, likewise, it maintained a certain level of exclusivity.

The predecessor to the internet we had before was the BBS or
Electronic Bulletin Board System. Somebody with a computer, money and telephone line to spare would set it
up for free to fellow enthusiasts. The
joys of connecting to a BBS can be illustrated by how one has to download a
diskette-size file for an entire hour with a 2400bps modem and still rave about
it. There’s no real time interaction,
you can only leave messages on the bulleting board like ‘Pare, nakita ko na si
Carlyn ang ganda nga!’. (we chanced upon
that message referring to a friend of ours). Lucky for me, I have a computer-addict best friend by the name of
Patrick. I’d go to his house and he’ll
let me connect to the BBS, sometimes staying till dawn just to get connected. Before that, he used to go to our house to
use my PC until his Dad bought him his own with all the bangs and whistles – in
our days, that would be called a modem.

In 1995, I had my first email add – a status symbol in this
part of the world. I think it’s jtsy@techpac.com.au
because our system would retrieve our email from the server of our
mother-company in Australia thru very expensive data-packet service. People were paying around PhP10,000 per month for internet connection. By then, modems were reaching speeds of
14000bps and later 28000bps. Leased
lines were at 64kbps and cost a fortune then.

By late 1995 to 1996, Patrick, being a computer addict was
willing to spend PhP2,000.00 monthly on internet connection. He would also give me an old 14000bps modem
and let me share the use of his unlimited account. I would create a webmail account in
rocketmail (which was bought by yahoo so the ones still using rocketmail are
very old netizens indeed) and start chatting thru globalchat.

The cyber-community was different then, the world wide web
was new, a browser was all the rage and netscape was just version 2.0 and IE
was in the horizon. No MIRC yet. The US have AOL instant messenger while
Yahoo messenger would be few years away.

In 1997, the modem speed got stuck in 33600bps (while two
sides were fighting it out for the 56kbps standard) but internet was still very
elitist. The masses were just starting
to gaze upon it from afar having been introduced to cellphone just awhile
back. Internet cafes were more like
gimmick places and hang-outs that charges like karaoke bars, chief among them
Cyberbia along Jupiter street in Makati.

Everyone you meet in the chatroom either works in the IT
department of very large corporations or they work (or own) in an IT company
with significant responsibilities. So it
was not surprising that counted among us were quite a number of system administrators
from whom we’d sometimes get free internet access. Either that or you visit one of these friends
and they let you use their computer which was why my office always has visitors
when the boss was not in town (and he’ll wonder later who was consuming the
softdrinks in the fridge reserved for clients).

Because almost everyone knows each other in some ways,
people have to behave, otherwise, they will become some sort of pariah or
outcasts. Newbies have to introduce
themselves first. No flooders, no
flamers, no spammers and no bad English (there were plenty of grammar police
online). An asl intro could get you
kicked out of the chat room.

By 2001, things were different, the masses already learned
to use the internet thanks to the proliferation of internet cafes offering as
low as PhP20.00 per hour. Everyone
including the scums of the earth have learned to browse, email and chat. The jologs age had started and asl became the
mandatory intro line. And as they say,
the rest is internet history.

;P

     Many times I stand in the theatre lobby for quite sometime
unable to make a decision whether to watch the movie or not. I look at the ticket price and always
reminded that 9 out of ten times, someone is going to ruin the movie experience
for me.

     What can I say, Patrick my best friend and doc Eugene
finally got me converted. They’re the
DVD guys, for years I have resisted and argued that I like the movie experience
better but now I think the whole theatre experience isn’t worth it anymore.

     I love movies, it’s the crowd I hate. These days I just can’t stand the movie-going
public. With ticket prices getting more
and more expensive, I would imagine the crowd should be getting better and
better but that is not so. It’s true
then that money and education has nothing to do with breeding. Whichever cinema you go to (even Imax) or
movies you watch (be it in English or an art film), you will find them, the
people who makes movies a horrible experience.

     So here are the characters I find the most irritating (in no
particular order, I hate them all, I hate everyone!!!!! I hate I hate I
hate!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

Book of Death

      The one who
holds the Necronomicon – the book of Death (of cinematic experience). The Book comparer basically does that, in no
humility, they use their companion as an excuse wants the world to know they
have read the book from which this film is based upon. Never mind the reviews, you will learn it
from them whether the film has been faithful to the book or not.

Sherlock Holmes (The spoiler)

      ‘The Butler did it!!!’ they exclaim to their
companion, actually, in a faux whispering voice, low enough but still for
everyone to hear that there is prestige in having watched the movie before
everybody else did or have they  read the
book?! They either give the ending or snippets of what is about to happen like
you are experiencing a cinematic premature ejaculation.

Big Foot (Seat thumper)

     Better not
lean on the back rest and your head on the headrest lest you want a headache or
worst – internal injury. In a country
where people are not predominantly tall, you wonder if all long-legged people
are cooped up in movie theatres where they let their ADHD take hold and
practice percussion with their feet. Sometimes a seat thumper can even disturb a whole row of seats infront
of them. If you’re a little bit taller
like me, you can try sitting upright and using your peripheral vision to get
back at the seat thumper by blocking their view. One has to slouch to kick and they can’t slouch
if you’re blocking the view unless they’re really long-legged.

Sound FX man

     Boom!
Crash! Pagoom! Born in the wrong era, Mr. Soundman should be when movies were
still silent and the audience appreciates a little realism. I only had two run-ins with soundmans, one a
kid (Simpsons the movie in Festival mall) and another a lolo (Ratatouille in
Glorietta4), both in some state of retardation I suppose.

The Honeymooners

     Here’s
Chuckie and his wife, a pair of movie-going lowlife. Giggly, smoochy smoochy,
tickle here and tickle there. I have a
suggestion: GET A ROOM!!!

    
Scream!
     In horror films, an unknown
actress-wannabe is the first victim, she screams till her lungs’ out because it’s
her only shot then the screen darkens setting the plot for the horrors to come.
Otherwise known as the Scene Stealer and female most of the time, the creature
craves attention in the dark. Some do it
deliberately, shrieking loudly and extendedly even when the suspense is over or
there was none in the first place while others try to extend the 15 second of fame
they had when their earlier genuine scream elicited laughs from the crowd. KSP – Kulang Sa Padyak!

Jeepers Creepers

     Who is that
peering behind you in the dark?! You can hear and even feel them breathe with
one (or two) hands clutching unto your seat’s backrest. Creepy isn’t it?! Don’t ask me why and how
someone can watch movie by extending their head to almost besides you FROM THE
BACK! While keeping your head straight,
your eyes roll to the side wondering whose head it is. The horror comes when they
suddenly sneezes.

Space Invader

     Otherwise
known as ‘The Blob’. Fortunately I don’t
meet them often anymore because cinemas are hardly packed these days. The Space Invader needs arm rest and leg room
- his and yours. Mostly men, they’re
probably the ones you see in jeepneys who can’t help spreading their legs
because their ‘balls’ are in the way. Maybe something’s in their armpits as well.

The Phone / Cellular

     Technology in the wrong hands, the world is doomed! Some people want to have it all, they don’t want to miss a scene and
neither do they want to miss a call or text. They also doesn’t want to turn their cellphone off or at least the
ringer off. They let their phone ring
hoping it will stop or pretend people doesn’t know it’s their phone. Some even have the gall to answer calls and
talk while others hold up their phone proudly like the Liberty statue beaming
light unto your eyes while they texted. These
are the times you wish cellphone radiation can cause cancer or they be stricken
with carpal tunnel syndrome. I could
hear Arnold saying “I’ll be calling
baaaack!”.

Children of the Corn

     I call this
the unattended child-negligent guardian combo. Times must be desperate, it used to be that children under 8yo were not
allowed into theatres but these days you can find children as young as 4yo
running amuck inside theatres with parents condoning what they’re doing. As we say in breeding, it starts early. These fine tiyanaks will grow up to be the
future horror of movies if they are not already one. If you think watching last full shows helps,
forget it, the negligent guardian also doesn’t believe in early bedtime for
little monsters.

The Mob

     Oh yeah,
the party is here. Strength in number is
the motto and because they’re a group, they can’t help lording it over the
whole theatre. It’s like they own the
place. Here’s a suggestion, wait for one
of them to go to the toilet and pick on him/her. Then one or two of them will come looking for
the missing, then you pick on them one by one just like in the horror films
except in this case you’d be doing everybody a favor. At the end of the film, only one will be left
so you let him/her go so that there will be a sequel!

The Voices

     More than
whispers, the chattering in the background becomes more and more audible as if
pushing you to commit murder – towards where the voices are coming from. In the beginning, there was light, then
shadows that makes movies – silent movies. Then came the talkies. Unfortunately there are those who do not realize the audience should
still stay silent. For the likes of me,
I can’t understand why people chose to go to movies when they want to have a
chat.

RadioMan

As if accompanying somebody blind
to the movies, the radioman (or person) describes everything in the movies –
just like the good ‘ol days of radio drama.

The Dubber

     For crying
out loud, the subtitles’ are not supposed to be read out loud! Here are a few simple rules a dubber misses:
watch only films in language you can understand.

The Twit / The Critic in the flesh

     Some people
are pure wit and some are just plain annoying. Often trying to be smart or funny but ends up doing the opposite with
their not-knowing-when-to-stop side comments on everything in the film as if
audiences need some comic relief or their opinion on would’ve should’ve been a
better what. Here’s a safe one everybody
can agree on: “SHUT UP AND JUST BLOG IT!”.

The Seer

     Blind to
social cues, the seer only sees what’s going to happen next as if there are
prizes to be won for guessing the correct outcome. If they’re proven right, they’ll be rewarded
with the right to stay “told you so!” or its tagalog version “sabi sa yo eh” or
“kita mo?!”. “Yes we saw it, but we’d
rather not hear you” is what you hope their psychic power could pick up from
your mind but according to the ancient Seers’ curse, they can only see anything
except for their own.

Nanny McPee

     Another
market niche just opened up for makers of adult diapers. Not just for those with incontinence but
there are also those whose bladder is big enough only for a sitcom’s length of
run and not an entire full-feature film. The plot is set when McPee sits in the middle of the row with a 20oz
drink in hand.

January 06, 2008:   Earlier the day (January 05), the Design defense of which I was the ‘adviser’ was rescheduled because one of the panel member didn’t show up (I think he forgot).  When I walked into the room, I was greeted with a ‘YOU’RE LATE AGAIN MR. SY, PALAGI KANG LATE!’ by sir Noel in front of the students.

Actually, I didn’t think I was supposed to be part of the defense with sir Noel being their course adviser and then the 3 panel members.  The night before when I received a text about the defense, I ask the students to clarify if I was really needed because as far as I know, I was asked to be their ‘docu’ adviser.  Surely the format, flow and ‘docu reverse-engineering’ (done the design and prototype before thinking how to justify it) would not be the subject of the defense?!

No news until it was too late when I was snoring gleefully on a Saturday morning that the text came in confirming my attendance is a must.  Turns out the students indicated in the paper that I’m their design adviser, that’s why.  Besides, I am a habitual latecomer.

Without the 3rd panel member, sir Noel refused to proceed with the defense with only two  and neither would he allow an impromptu replacement given that it’s too bothersome specially to the professors the students will try to ‘ambush’ and beg upon.  Moreover, the docu had to be read by a panel member well in advance.

So with nothing else to do, I passed by SM City Manila to buy towels and then some other stuffs.  After that I headed towards my office in Binondo, have dinner and then kill time in my office.  I avoid going home early on a Saturday night because our neighborhood becomes a jologs version of Malate complete with surround-sound (each of several blaring from different directions) videoke songs like ‘Skyline P.Jones’ repeated several times!

Past 2am, I decided to go home and hope the party fever would’ve wound down by the time I get there. 

Since I would have to go to school for the defense in the afternoon, I decided to leave my laptop in the office and come back for it after the defense.  When I got to the ground floor of the lobby, I suddenly remembered the stuffs I bought earlier.  Well, I thought, since I was coming back for my laptop later the day, might as well do them in one go and save taxi money.  After all, saving money and minimizing taxi-rides is one of my new year’s resolution and it’s more difficult to get a taxi on a Sabado night.

I walked toward Lawton via Jones bridge and waited for a jeep outside The Met.  A few meters after I boarded a Cubao jeep, two guys did too at the foot of the Quezon Bridge.  Have a bad feeling about the newest passengers so I decided to get off in Quiapo after the bridge.  I think it’s bad to get off immediately because that might invite more trouble if they realize you’re on to them.  And besides, where can you actually get off in the middle of the bridge?!

That’s exactly where everything happened.  When the jeep got to the middle of the bridge, one of the guys ordered the driver to stop the vehicle and announced a hold-up!  ‘AMIN NA LAHAT NG CELFON NYO!’ one of the guys screamed.

I think I’ve rehearsed this moment in my mind several times before specially when you hear stories like people getting killed for refusing.  So I calmly gave him my less than 6-month old Nokia E50 while avoiding eye-contact and hoping they won’t notice I’m Chinoy.  As much as it hurts me, I think it would hurt more if I refused and he would’ve ended up getting it anyway.  The knife they were holding didn’t look sharp but I wasn’t planning on finding out either.  Besides, the stab of a dull knife probably will hurt more than a sharp one.

One of the passengers said he didn’t have a cellphone, so they took everything he has including his bag which he later said contains his salary.

After they got what they want, the robbers fled on foot into darkness (which is basically what the surrounding area of the bridge is). We got off immediately in Quiapo to get help and like TVs and movies, the cops are never around when you need them.

It was a bad experience but we can only be thankful that things could’ve been worse.  Hate the thought but I think many of us are already used to being thankful of being less unfortunate by now.  Most say be thankful nobody got hurt, that they took only cellphones and nothing else (for which I realized later that my bag contains cash I was supposed to take out earlier in the office but forgot), that it could’ve been more traumatic if the hold-up was focused on me as an individual (specially thankful when you hear stories of Chinoys being singled out among the passengers in a jeep hold-up) or that I could’ve been raped (ok, I made that up and its wishful thinking).

Still, thoughts crossed my mind.  Why did they have to rob people? Do they do this for a living? If so, why did they have dull-looking knives? That one of them was wearing neon-green t-shirt (definitely not good when you’re planning to disappear into the dark) while the other was in a fisherman hat and long jacket (like the killer in ‘I know what you did last summer’) that made them stood out like a sore thumb.  How long have they been doing this? (both guys are in their late 40s or even early 50s).  Will they be among the faithful a few days later in Quiapo to ask forgiveness during the feast of Black Nazarene (where a huge chunk of devotees looked like they spent time in Bilibid)? Will I remember them every time I ask students in ethics class about the moral dilemma of robbing people to feed their own children?  Why did I have to save money of all time and wind up losing more? Why did I not bring my old Sony-Ericsson phone that I am more willingly to part with? Di ba talaga pwedeng puri na lang?!

I’m still a little traumatized after the experience.  I’m still jumpy specially when somebody suddenly talked loudly in a jeep or bus and I’m probably more vigilant than before but hopefully not being paranoid.  It’s not just the phone or material possession that was taken from you, it’s your sense of being safe in public spaces.  It’s a feeling of being violated, your rights, your freedom.  I still cringe at the thought the criminals might be viewing pictures of my family members and friends stored in the phone.

A few days later, I saw a police mobile unit with a sign that says if this mobile unit did not respond within 7-minutes, please call 091X-XXXXXXX.  I thought it was funny because it sounded like a Pizza delivery guarantee - ‘If we fail to deliver in 30-minutes, your pizza is free’.  That might apply to the cops – ‘If we do not respond within 7-minutes, the criminals get away free!’.

My sister said she saw on TV that two robbers similar to how I described them were caught (by their intended victim) in the same bridge.  I hope it’s them.  I still miss my E50.  I still haven’t gotten to sending the affidavit to NTC to blacklist the phone’s IMEI.  I have to admit, I admire their Modus Operandi (in the sense of operations strategy) – it was quick, easy and effective.

Hindi ba talaga pwedeng puri na lang?!

Over the past few months, my office inbox has been flooded with spam from Manila-based company offering mostly trainings and seminars.  Not only do these people spam, they are relentless even after you email them politely to take you off their marketing list.  Some of them even text and waste our fax paper.  There’s powermax, poshmarketing, itpros, eccp (european computer center of the Phils.), phoenix one, etc.  (you might want to put them on your spam list).  There’s even comedy bars and Italianis MOA.  business must be getting desperate for these people.

Finally I had enough, here you expect better from supposedly legitimate companies occupying expensive office space but they’re no better than viagra and dildo salesmen and scam artists on the internet.

so when I received a spam touting a seminar on among all things: ‘leadership’ and compromising our email add by exposing the lengthy recipient list, I decided to fire away by clicking ‘reply all’ and hopefully people answer to the call of ‘do not patronize spammers’ business’.  Research has repeatedly shown that the reason we’re being spammed is that there is that stupid 1% of the population who bought whatever they’re selling.  and since it doesn’t cost anything to spam, 1% is a good return.

the following is what transpired so far, but I have no intention of answering back again because I have said my piece, besides, I’ve learned I’m not corresponding with human intelligence or any intelligence for that matter.  Or tell me you detect intelligent life form:

monkey learns to type:
From: PSI Leadership Seminar <psileadershipseminars@gmail.com>
Date: Monday, October 22, 2007 11:15 AM
To: 28 email addresses exposed
Subject: Leadership Success Seminar

:p
Anybody has any suggestion to make life miserable for spammers and telemarketing companies for a change

March 2007: It was
more than a month when I last did my laundry for all sorts of reasons – the
weather, weak water pressure, it was late at night I didn’t want to turn on the
water pump that might disturb people sleeping, didn’t want to suck water from other
people’s use, Mom did her laundry, sister did her laundry, etc. etc.

But the real culprit would be that the washing machine went
bonkers when I was ready to clean that pile of dirty laundry which was now tall
enough to get admitted to roller coaster ride or pay full-price in buffets and
movie houses.

It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that the amount of
clothes hanging or folded-up in my closet is inversely proportional to the
amount of clothes I have in my laundry hill, er, I mean basket. That pile of dirty clothes probably
collectively contain enough human (mine) skin sheddings, hair (from every nook)
and possibly dried bodily fluids (I’m thinking of urine here, or tears, snoot,
saliva and maybe blood from squashed mosquitoes) to make a mini-me.

Luckily, I have many clothes because after reaching
adult-hood, I’ve hardly grown (except recently my waistline….and more face?!)
and have retained most of my clothes for the past decade as part of my
wardrobe. I also tend to dress conservatively (meaning: not into the latest
fashion which you can’t wear the next season).

Then there’s this bunch of new clothes I have the habit of buying
and stocking during 50%-off sales that I can pull one out when necessary as if
it’s my birthday, New Year or I finally got a date. The downside of course was
that I couldn’t even get into my brand-new pants bought when I had my what I
thought would be my eternal 29” waistline.

So if you noticed me during those days, I tend to
aggregately over several days look like an image on a malfunctioning TV or
computer monitor. I will be in color-faded
clothes a few days then flicker I will be in vivid-color then flicker again
into color-faded clothes.

But even with large stock of decade-old clothes and new
stocks waiting, the possible wardrobe combo was starting to dwindle. Even the long-sleeved shirts were in their
last two pieces during the harsh summer month.

Fortunately, the washing machine was finally fixed after a
month of misdiagnosis, cajoling, cursing and negotiating with the service
center and repeated visits by the different technicians.

I was already out shopping for a replacement but couldn’t
find one that can compare with our old-reliable (12 years running without any
glitch except now) Daewoo 12kg fully-automatic.

Laundry services were considered as short-fixes, but
replacement was really on the table as an option even if I have to compromise on specs and budget as I reached farther and farther into my closet for
something to prevent me from catching the chills or getting arrested for
indecent exposure whichever comes first.

I could almost see the lamppost. It’s only a matter of time before I would reach too far into the closet
and find that only a piece of scarf remains…..around someone’s neck.

My friends noted my need to be near clean toilets for those not so occasional ‘emergencies’ that comes with very short notices.  And I have more or less gotten to know some quite discrete but clean washrooms because of it. Then there are also ones notable for some other things .

There’s the one in Gateway mall with impressive squeaky-clean black tiles, that is until you realized that you and your cubicle-mate next door can literally see each other off the polished floor and then you wait for which of you to get up first.  Or the one in megamall that does not just flush, it bubbles like a Jacuzzi too.  The one in Robinson’s Place that spit on your shoes.  Or how about those countless ones that you hold your breath and keep you fingers crossed because they turned out to be more of flooders and than they are flushers.

If its toilet humor or loo-ny stories, I have plenty.  Probably my favorite would be the pretentious girl I overheard in Coffee Bean (& Tea Leaf) Greenbelt asking (with a fake twang) her girl-companion: “….is there flash?!”  I was tempted to ask her if she’s planning to take pictures while in the toilet.

I’m one of those who think pay toilets in malls are a god-sent considering toilets for men tend to be icky if you need to ‘sit’.  There, you have the place to yourself.  You can hum, you can bum or you can groan in pleasure and in pain.  And sometimes I use the women’s toilet in our office if I know I have the floor to myself at night or on Sundays.

My doctor friend Eugene finally told me I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome on top of my being a lactose-intolerant ice cream and dairy fanatic!. You can shorten it to IBS which I’m not surprised sounds like EBS.

It means that that cool relaxed façade you see us with have an internal equivalent that is the literal ‘kulo sa loob’.  I mean, how can you do anything than just be still when something’s a-fighting to come out.  You know a little unnecessary twitch could be the spark that will ignite an explosion.

And how many times was it that a feeling of bliss became horrible in such a short instance.  Stomach aches, churning and growling, cold sweats, farting and trying haplessly to ‘contain’ the situation.

And so goes a number of bad experiences when nature proves to be stronger than the will of man.  What can I say, shit happens – in my pants.

June 28 2007

It happened again.

I just came from HMR warehouse where Richie dropped me off
at Megamall. Attracted to some
architectural and graphic books on National Bookstore’s window display, I went
to Powerbooks (its’ high-end sister-bookstore) where I think I could have an
easier time finding copies unsealed for browsing.

After sometime, I couldn’t find them in the art and
architecture section so I sailed down that row of shelves section by section
hoping I might just have missed them (which is so …. me, the tendency of
missing what’s right in front of my eyes).

Focusing on the row of books like a DOM with glaucoma on
pretty young legs, I heard it uttered quite formal sounding a few inches away
from me: “This is Jojo Sy”.

Knocked-off my purpose for a few short seconds, I turn
around looking for who said it. Then I turned again. Like I said, I’m good a missing what’s right in
front of my eyes.

It was Glenn.

That Glenn, who on my earlier blog I referred to as the one
who got his pants slashed. Glenn, two
weeks earlier in Coffee Bean and Tea leaf Greenbelt and yet in another missing what’s right between the eye moment later chided me
for reminding him that incident in my blog when he had already forgotten that
traumatic or was that embarrassing experience.

“This is Jojo Sy”?!

So what’s wrong?

When was the last time you got introduced or referred to so
formally by friends and social acquaintances?

There’s something about my name that compels people to refer
to me in its entirety or at least always with my surname. Jojo is like soap, or detergent – you have to
attach Sy to make it an identifier, which is what names are all about. And sometimes as if Sy is not enough, given
the near genericness of it akin to Cruz, Reyes or Santos,
my middle name had to be included to make sure it is I they were specifically
referring to, not just any Jojo or mr. Sy or Jojo Sy.

And yet in all its genericness, my name seemed to be one
most difficult to forget. I know people
who I have already forgotten who still remember my first, last and middle
name. The irony of my name – generic and
yet effective in managing my person as a brand. And if you couple that with what someone once referred to as my
weirdness and easily identifiable walk, laugh, voice and appearance, you have
one person better not commit a crime lest be easily identified.

I could see it now: “hinding hindi ko makakalimutan ang
salarin! I can still remember how he looks like, how we walks when leaving the
scene of the crime”.  I can also see how
when the cartographic sketch is aired on TV, someone somewhere is going to say:
“hey, I know that guy, that’s JOJO TAN SY!!!”.

Not good for someone who values anonymity and have
entertained thoughts of doing some (more) despicable acts.

Sometimes it reaches embarrassing level when my entire name
is uttered loudly in public as if I was formally being introduced to
everyone. It’s different when you say
“this is Jojo” than to say “This is Jojo Tan Sy”.

I once ran into some friends at the beach and one of them
said: “Jojo Tan Sy”. I said “kumpletuhin
mo na pati address, telephone and SSS number”.

I used to hate my name when I was younger. Not only is it generic, its probably the most
common pet-name in the country. Everyone
whose name starts with ‘JO’ is a Jojo regardless of whether he or she is a
Jonathan, Joseph, Jolina, Josephine or Josa ng Kagandahan (ehem!).

I hated it, I used to resent people with Jojo as their
pet-name. For every person who has Jojo
as a nickname, I felt my identity was threatened. I feel like “meron naman kayong sariling
pangalan bakit nakiki-agaw pa kayo sa akin eh yun lang ang pangalan ko”. And I find it awkward filling out forms or
slumbooks that ask: nickname? Like I
need one? Oh yeah, I can say my nick name is Jo, or J or O. whats the
convention for coming up with pet-name as a percentage of a person’s real name. Besides, people might even think its an
acronym for something like Osmosis Joe backwards or Jack-Offreo! Which is another thing I resent: people with
two or more first names. Swapang, as I
would say. May namumulubi ng pangalan
dito tapos dadalawa or tatlo-tatlo sa inyo?! Of course I’m kidding but do have
to admit I envy them.

And would you believe, several times people
actually took it upon themselves to give me a formal name. Knowing I’m referred to as Jojo, people will
refer to me as Joseph or Jonathan in a formal letter thinking that  that is the
logical formal name. And I have to
explain over and over again why my name is Jojo:

That my parents doesn’t know English and had always relied
on friends and relatives to name (English/Christian) their offsprings. They
asked my second maternal uncle what to call me, it was the 70s and Jojo was the
man he thought he was a loner  ……

My uncle died when I was 2 years old and I have never
mentioned to anyone that I hated my name lest I be tagged as the prime
suspect. Of course not, it’s because
family members always refer to my name as his ‘pamana’ to me. I used to cringe whenever my name is
called. Its short, it lacks character,
and there’s probably a thousand people in the room who would also respond to
that name whether they’re male or female.

I also remember classmates and playmates used to call me
‘Jojo Candy’ when we were young because it was a popular brand of candy (taste
like Fruit Tella or Sugus).

I used to (and sometimes still do) envy people with ‘better’
or ‘cool’ sounding names like Patrick, Joseph, Jose, Michael (ok, maybe not
that, its also generic), Darwin, Derrick, Renato, Procopio, Mang Belekoy or
Melissa. And sometimes I console myself
that at least my parents (and uncle) didn’t give me a truly embarrassing name
like Nike Air Jordan Sy, Zonrox Sy, Adolf Hitler Tan Sy or Bantay.

Sometimes I wonder if people with notable names feel the
same way. I know people with real first names
like Baby, Boy, Bimbo, Tonton, Jollibee, Nestle, Sir William, Yuri Gagarin (his
first name and surname respectively), George Washington, Prince, Raffy Rafael
(first name and surname respectively), Sining (the sister) and Agham (the
brother), Adonis, Elvis, Einstein, etc.

But I have grown accustomed to it and have embraced it. Jojo is me, that’s who I am. But I’m still troubled on why people always
find the need to call my name in its entirety.

This is Jojo Tan Sy, ……. Signing off! (for now)

I love watching movies, specially before. There’s something about watching movies in
movie houses that I don’t quite get from watching videos.

Maybe it’s the better sound system (unless you own your own
THX or 5.1 system), the acoustic, the huge screen, the fully-airconditioned big
theater that seats hundreds or everything coming together to give that
movie-magic experience.

It used to be better, lights would dim, everybody hush-up,
then the reel starts rolling. There is
the sense of grandeur when the production company ID starts off the movie –
whether it’s the rotating earth of Universal, the growling lion of MGM, the
stomping squarish G of Golden Harvest film or the dignified posture of the Columbia lady accompanied by the intro music telling you something good is to come.

These days, I long for the older movie days. Not the black and White era but the 70s, the
80s. Theaters were free-standing and
quite huge, usually in Art Deco or Art Nouveau style. There is a sense of art, a sense of space
that was mandatory. These days, they are
more interested in efficiency – small boxy theatres even with toilets located
in a common lobby. And the crowd, I
don’t even know where to begin.

When I was young, my parents were very strict in the choices
of films we watch. They don’t know
English so only Walt Disney pictures have their seal of approval. Usually it’s the State theatre in Avenida that
shows Disney films. I also remember
watching most of the Superman movies (starring Christopher Reeves) there.

We also don’t get to watch much Tagalog films because like
American films, they think there’s too much sex and violence. My parents used to say that if you watch
Tagalog films, its usually iyakan, bakbakan, sampalan or toilet humor. But that was the 70s and 80s. My Mom adore the likes of Nida Blanca and
Gloria Romero even to the point of going to watch their film in-between port
calls of the boat she takes to the province for her teaching assignment not
minding she might get left behind. She
always complain they don’t make movies like they used to.

The movie houses before have 3 levels – Orchestra (the
cheapest), Balcony and Lodge (most expensive). The haughty ones in Makati and Cubao will call theirs De Luxe and Premier.

Recto and Avenida was the Moviehouse center. There was Galaxy (which is in the process of
being demolished after the adjacent old Mapua High), huge huge theatre with
adjustable seats. I remember watching
the animated Space-battleship Yamato and Voltes V. Although I didn’t watch it, I still remember
vividly the billboards of John Travola and Olivia Newton-John (Grease) tied to
the theatres pillars along Avenida.

In the 80s, the moviehouse scene switched to Recto near
University Belt – there was Miramar,
Maxim, Tandem, Gotesco (where some people died in one of the theatres when the balcony caved into the orchestra) and Eastern where I watched my first Horror Movie –
Fright Night (and got a good scare and laughs).

Thanks to cineplexes like SM, the free-standing moviehouses
begun to lose business. The Chinese
theatres in Binondo, like Capitol (along Escolta), Kings theatre and Southern
theatre (along Ongpin and what is now the President’s teahouse) on the other
hand foretold of what is to come for the mainstream theatres – closing one by
one and losing to the phenomenon of video. Betamax has come to fore in the 80s and together with dipping standards
in Chinese language education, nobody was interested in watching Chinese language films anymore. Their location also added to the woes, too obscure for the
mainstream Filipino movie fan. Capitol
in Escolta switched to Viva films and my sisters, fans of Sharon Cuneta always
watch her films there to avoid the crowd.

I still remember the PhP7.00 ticket. When I was in High
school and even college, movie ticket cost less than PhP20.00. It was only these past few years that they jacked
up ticket prices. In 2004 and 2005, I
was still paying PhP50.00 and PhP60.00 for a movie ticket. I would usually catch the last full show with
Oscar, Ronald, Tacing and Alain at Robinson’s place.

Then the ticket jumped to PhP70.00 then the next thing I
noticed they were all charging more than a hundred pesos. Sometimes I miss the jampacked opening day
feel. Before, I usually avoid opening
week.

The economics of watching a movie is simple as my friend
explains to me before. She has 4
children, to watch a movie, they would have to pay for 6 tickets. On top of that, when they go out, they pay
for gas, parking and the requisite Jollibee for the kids. Now the alternative (few years ago) was to
rent a video for a fraction of a ticket price where the children can watch it
over and over again for the next few days. Now throw in the newer phenomenon of the dvd at PhP30.00 then the
economics of watching movies at moviehouses suddenly doesn’t make sense anymore
unless you’re a movie-romantic like me.

But I’m starting to lose my interest too. Because of the ticket price, I’m now more
choosy and with other movie patrons’ behavior, it makes you wonder if the money
is worth spending.