Taga-UPLB ka kung...1. Kilala mo si Mang Pogs.
2. Nalilito ka kung saan nakalagay ang banga ni Mariang Banga.
3. Tubig na lang ang tingin mo sa gin.
4. Ginamit mong reviewer ang mga old exams para sa mga midterms, prefi at finals sa math, stat, chem, physics, eco etc.
5. Hindi ka sumasagot ng UP (yupeee) kapag tinanong ka kung saan ka graduate.hahaha! sagot mo elbi.
6. Taga-elbi ka kapag kilala mo yung professor na nagbi-bike ng naka-barong na kupas. (Si climax! kalahating albert einstein, kalhating mang pandoy)
7. Ok lang pumasok sa mga klase kahit naka pambahay/ pantulog attire ka.
8. Pag nagtanong si manong driver ng "may animal ba dyan?", at may sumagot ng "meron po" ay di ka natawa.
9. Pag nagtanong uli si manong driver ng "may mens ba dyan?", at may sumagot uli ng "meron po" ay di ka natawa.
10. Di ka nahihiyang magbitbit ng malaking payong.
11. Taga-elbi ka kung pagkatapos mong magbakasakali kay Mang Pogs, diretso ka na kay Mr. Midnight .
12. Bumibili ka ng blue book sa Coop.
13. Alam mong hindi pwedeng ibato ang Batong Malaki.
14. Nung pinanood mo ang movie ni aga at regine na shot at elbi (sa may gaygay gowns) at nagtawag ng taxi si regine e nagtawanan kayo ng mga taga-LB at clueless ang iba.
15. Alam mo kung nasaan ang White House.
16. May tanline ka ng tsinelas.
17. Alam mong mas masarap ang pancit canton na niluto sa 'heater cup'
18. Sanay ka maglakad.
19. Thursday night ang gimik night mo.
20. Alam mo na ang pinakamalaking banyo ay ang Ellen's Fried Chicken, at Sizzler's ang tinitingalang kainan.
21. Kilala mo sina Saniano Boy at Girl.
22. Alam mo kung nasaan ang "Johnson".
23. Alam mo ang kaibahan ng dalawang Flatrocks.
24. Kaya mong pumasok ng hindi naliligo.
25. Alam mong si Carasus at Pegabao ay iisa.
26. Alam mong ok lang na pumunta sa Maahas.
27. Tumatambay ka sa APEC para mag inom.
28. Alam mo kung nasaan ang Fertility Tree, Kwek Kwek Tower , at ang Templo ni Bruce Lee.
29. Tuloy ang klase kahit signal number 3 na.
30. Alam mo kung saan ang pilahan ng jeep papuntang IRRI, Forestry, o kaya ay Jamboree...
31. Hindi ka kumakain ng buko pie.
32. Alam mo na bago pa man nauso ang unli rice sa Tokyo Tokyo, marketing strategy na ito ng Salad Country.
33. Hinahanap-hanap mo ang chocolate cake sa Mer-Nel's.
34. Alam mong bawal tumawid sa UPLB Gate(main), muLa Guard House papuntang harap ng Carabao Park ...
35. Alam mong may oras lang na pwede kumain sa IRRI pag di ka IRRI employee.
36. Sanay ka maglagay ng Knorr Seasoning sa kanin.
37. Alam mong ang hanging bridge ay di talaga naka hang..
38. Alam mong hindi lang dalawang pulgada ang layo ng Bayog sa Anos.
39. Kapag nate-take mo na di magpalit ng pants hanggang ilang araw.. hehe..
40. Alam mo kung nasaan ang tatlong Ellen's fried chicken sa LB.
41. Apektado ka sa pagsasara ng ic's
42. Pag may sakit ka, hindi ka pupunta "infirmary" except lang pag kukuha ka ng excuse slip.
43. Marami kang alam na ghost stories, sa ilag's, sa men's dorm, sa faculty village, sa may social garden etc...
44. Pag umihi ka na sa gilid ng SU (tuwing feb fair).
45. Alam mo na ang tunog ng pillbox. (rambol!)
46. Taga lb ka kapag kilala mo si "manang slow"..
47. Hindi mo na naabutan ang Vega mall at Robinson's.
48. Taga elbi ka kapag mas gusto mong tumambay pag feb fair kesa manood ng kung anuman sa stage.
49. Kaya mong i-identify ang specie at subspecie ng bawat punong nadadaanan mo.
50. Alam mo na ang shortest way sa papuntang st. therese from Hum ay ang dirt road...
51. Taga-elbi ka kapag alam mo kumbaket maraming natatalisod sa raymundo gate.
52. Hindi mo kailangan ng rason para uminom ... hindi mo na rin keilangan ng mesa pag iinom (... hindi mo na rin minsan kailangan ng baso ).
53. Alam mo kung nasaan ang Soils.
54. Mas trip mo mag-redhorse kesa mag San Mig Light.
55. Kung di man natuloy ay binalak mong umakyat ng peak two.
56. Taga elbi ka pag nakakita ka ng snow pag summer (yun yung bulak na nagkalat sa campus... kapok).
57. Taga-elbi ka rin pag handa mong gawin ang lahat pag nag-peprerog ka makakuha ka lng ng slot sa subject na yon (lalo na pag GE).
58. Alam mo kung saan makakabili ng masarap na proven at chicken skin--> dun malapit sa white house.
59. Alam mong ang devcom ay dating under ng ca.
60. Mas enjoy mo ang gimik sa apartment compared to bars and restos.
61. Alam mong ang "audi" at DL Umali Hall ay iisa.
62. Alam mong may gasolinahan sa loob ng campus (sa likod ng CEAT).63. Sineryoso mo na kailangan may kasama kang date pag drill night.
63. Alam mo kung nasaan ang Ilag's, Raymundo's at Catalan.
64. Dismissed ka na pero sa elbi ka pa rin nakatira.
65. Alam mo kung nasaan ang Batcave.
66. Gusto mong pasabugin ang PhySci building.
67.Alam mong ang LB Square ay dating vacant lot na puro talahib.
68. Nakapanood ka na ng sine sa Agrix.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Female Marker in UP
Yesterday, I attended a meeting in UP with my boss, Esther A. Vibal. UP Regent Nelia Gonzales called for that meeting which was attended by fiery women from the academe, business and government.
The meeting was about the plan to install a female marker/statue (finally!) in UP Diliman. This initiative came from the UP Center for Women's Studies. The main agenda was about how to raise funds for this project. Fortunately, this won't be a huge problem since many have expressed their desire to help.
The attendees to this meeting were DSWD Secretary Esperanza Cabral, Dean Candida Adalla (first female dean of the College of Agriculture in UPLB), UP Professors Emeritus Thelma Kintanar and Ofelia Regala-Angangco, and PCSO General Manager Rosario Uriarte.
I was surprised to know that there were no female markers in UP Diliman. UPLB has two: Mariang Makiling near the UPLB Library and the Mariang Banga near Palma Bridge.
Mariang Banga: Ang banga ba ay nakataas o nakababa?The statue/marker will represent the modern Filipina. I will not state here the commissioned artist, nor describe the proposed design. Let us just wait and be surprised!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Women Contesting Fundamentalisms and Other Forms of Intolerance
On March 11, I attended (with Team Wikipilipinas and Filipiniana.net) the UP Centennial Lecture in time for women's month. The topic was A Centennial Conversation: "Women Contesting Fundamentalisms and other Forms of Intolerance. The event is part of the UP Centennial Lecture Series which is a vital component of the celebration of UP's 100 years. WikiPilipinas and Filipiniana.net showcased the Encyclopedia of Philippine Women and Philippine Women's Studies Microsite.
The resource speakers were Prof. Carolyn I. Sobritchea, Ph.D (topic: Fundamental Ideologies and Practices: Threats on Women?), Sylvia Estrada-Claudio, Ph.D. (topic: Counter-acting Religious Fundamentalisms: An International Perspective) and long-term feminist activist for women's rights Ms. Reihana Mohideen (topic: Women and Political-Religious Fundamentalism: An International Perspective). The reactors were Ambassador Rosario Gonzalez-Manalo and Rina Jimenez-David.
Fundamentalism, as I understood it, is a defined set of beliefs. For example, the strict obedience to the "fundamentals" of a religion, culture, ethnicity. The movement of women and how they live their life are being limited by these fundamental beliefs.Below are some quotes taken from the Lecture's Companion Information Material entitled Intersections created by Ms. Odine de Guzman of UP Center for Women's Studies:
1. "The control of women is crucial to fundamentalist politics that are informed by ideas of identity, and cultural and religious values. Fundamentalist groups go great lengths to keep women within the patriarchal home because women, as bearers of children, are believed to be repositories and transmitters of culture and purity of blood."
2. "While women hold this important reproductive role, they are not highly valued; in fact, they are jealously guarded just to secure the purity of the male line. This is seen in some communities in the veiling of women, the practice of clitoridectomy, the practice of widow burning, and the control of women's reproductive capacity by prescribing the ways to plan their reproductive health."
3. "The control of women's bodies can be overt or covert. One example of a covert form is the indistinguishable relationship between the Philippine government and the Philippine Catholic Church in which public policy on women's reproductive health is influenced by the beliefs of the Church, although the two are constitutionally separate."
4. Another example is Executive Order 003 of the City of Manila issued in 2000 by then Mayor Jose Atienza. the EO declares "the City promotes responsible parenthood not just as a method but as a way of self-awareness in promoting the culture of life while discouraging the use of artificial methods of contraception like condoms, pills, intrauterine devices, etc... denying the City's poor women and their families access to these supplies that are normally affordable to them through the public health centers"
5. "A woman is usually reduced to her body; her worth depends on her bodily functions. Jose Atienza, revealed a rather unsettling idea in his account of his own family planning practice. Accordingly, he and his wife have six children: "five came in quick succession:, while the sixth came years later. he says that was because his wife took the pill without my knowledge and I tell you, she became a devil, a demon, blaming what he thinks was hormonal imbalance brought on by the pill. Whether or not this was said in jest, language constructs reality."
Monday, March 10, 2008
Masig Brods and the FQS
Masig (Alpha Sigmans) student activists from the 70s are some of the contributors to the book Militant But Groovy: Stories of Samahang Demokratiko ng Kabataan. The book is a collection of personal memoirs from former First Quarter Storm student activists.
Masig members Butch Dalisay, Ome Candazo and Solomon Santos are some of the contributors.
Posted here is the March 10, 2008 article of Butch Dalisay in his Philippine Star "Penman column"
-----
"Red Flag, Yellow Star"
("Penman" column piece of Butch Dalisay for Philippine Star, March 10, 2008, p. H-1)
THIS THURSDAY, March 13, from 3 to 5 pm at the Main Lobby of Palma
Hall, the University of the Philippines in Diliman, a new book is
going to be launched by Anvil Publishing with the somewhat
improbable title of Militant But Groovy: Stories of Samahang
Demokratiko ng Kabataan. I wondered where the editors—chiefly human
rights lawyer Soliman Santos—had gotten that title until I re-read
my brief contribution that volume, which I'd submitted more than two
years ago, and I realized, much mortified, that it came from me.
The book is a collection of personal memoirs from veterans of what's
come to be known as the First Quarter Storm—that long period of
intense, rousing, and sometimes frightening political protest that
presaged (and, some say, provoked) martial law in the early 1970s
and set the stage for EDSA. For those of us born in the late 1940s
and early `50s, it coincided with our physical, emotional, and
intellectual coming of age; and those of us who managed to survive
the FQS and stagger on to midlife will always look back on it as our
defining moment; indeed, it defined us as much as we defined it.
The Samahang Demokratiko ng Kabataan, or SDK, was one of
several "mass organizations" that brought young activists together
under the banner of what we proudly avowed to be the "national
democratic revolution." I was 16 when I joined it and embraced its
yellow-starred red flag; barely two years later I would land in
martial-law prison. I've always considered myself lucky to have come
out of martial law alive, because many of our comrades didn't. When
I wrote my first novel, Killing Time in a Warm Place (Anvil, 1992),
it was a form of thanksgiving, of memorializing the dead, and also,
I should admit, of apologizing to them for straying from the path
that led them to their graves.
It's easy to see the events of 35 to 40 years ago with a moist,
romantic eye and to cast ourselves as noble heroes; the definitive,
scholarly history of the martial law years has yet to be written,
and when it is, I'm sure that all our petty foibles—the bare
humanity of those whom we swore could walk on water—will come
through. That will not tarnish nor diminish the very real
contributions of those young Filipinos to the causes and crosses
that we sadly continue to bear today: the struggle against tyranny,
injustice, exploitation, and corruption.
A few weeks ago, on the 22nd anniversary of EDSA 1—I was interviewed
on TV as an FQS activist and as a writer for my impressions of the
current political scene. As often happens with these things, I
forgot what I really wanted to say until I was driving out of the
studio. And it was this: that when we look at or look for the
champions and the heroes who will lead us out of the darkness, we
shouldn't expect to find a perfect man or woman of entirely
unblemished character.
I can't prove it with statistics, but I have a dramatist's suspicion
that every great hero is, in one way or another, deeply flawed—by
hubris, ambition, venery, naivete, or some wayward passion—but they
became and they remain heroes because, at the tipping point, they
rose above their flaws and did something for the greater good that
may have surprised even themselves. When I see all the muck that's
dredged up and thrown at anyone who dares to blow the whistle on
bigtime corruption and oppression in our society, I can't help
thinking what a demolition job they could've done on the likes of
Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio, and Ninoy Aquino—and if we had
believed them, or let ourselves be distracted by Bonifacio's pride,
Rizal's romances, and Ninoy's ambition, then we would have gained
nothing in the end, perpetually hostage to our mistrust and fear.
An interviewer asked me: how should young people—your students—look
at a character like Jun Lozada? I gave a rather broad answer, but I
should've just said, "He's no Rizal and no Ninoy, certainly not, but
if you're a teenager, just think of him as your father, warts and
all. Now what would you do and how would you think if your Dad were
caught in that situation—if armed men took your Dad away to keep him
from telling the truth?" (And for that matter, what can you say to a
child who demands the truth from his teacher, only to be told, "I
can't tell you—it's executive privilege"?)
But to get back to the book: these are the stories of a generation
of street-marchers, and how ironic and yet how apt it is that it's
being launched not in the soft and cozy lap of safe nostalgia, but
in the grip of another crisis, whose noises—whispers, alarms,
clamors, slogans, and soundbites—seem all too familiar.
Here's what I sent in for that book, and for many more of these
reminiscences from such names as Butch Hilario, Gani Serrano, Rol
Peña, Jeepy Perez, Jorge Sibal, Lynn Castilla, Ome Candazo, Jonat
dela Cruz, Efren Abueg, Ven Jose, Jerry Araos, and the late Alex
Ontong and Popoy Valencia, join us this Thursday afternoon for the
launch. I don't know how militant or how groovy we remain, nearly
four decades after the facts being recollected here, so we'll just
have to go there and see.
I JOINED the SDK almost as soon as I entered UP in 1970, through
what I later realized was the normal recruitment route—first,
membership in the more innocuous Nationalist Corps, then integration
into SDK itself. Rightly or wrongly (wrongly, as it turned out), SDK
appealed to me as being somehow just as militant but groovier, to
use a word from that time, than the fire-breathing, roughshod
Kabataang Makabayan (KM).
A lot of the people I knew and idolized were with SDK—Gary Olivar,
Tony Tagamolila, Mario Taguiwalo, Rey Vea—writers and editors all of
whom I, a couple of years their junior, wanted to follow. Some
members were also fraternity brothers in Alpha Sigma—Benny Tiamzon
and Joey Calderon, most notably. I felt I was in the best company;
these guys (and some very nice gals) couldn't possible go wrong. I
was small fry then (and remained small fry), too young to be in on
the big discussions, but it impressed me to overhear people like Vic
David and Titus de Borja chat about the "18th Brumaire of Napoleon
Bonaparte." I was good only for Mao and the Five Golden Rays.
I remember a blur of HQs—Scout Castor, Arayat, an apartment near
Sulo Hotel—but our favorite hangout was the "Trialogue," a small
room at the far left end of Vinzons Hall. At this time my family
lived very close by—we were squatters on Old Balara—but I liked
spending time at the Trialogue, watching Willie Tañedo draw figures
for flyers and streamers (I recall being entranced—with horror and
fascination—by Willie's depiction of Francis Sontillano's splattered
brain).
I fancied myself a propagandist and had had some training in theater
with PETA, so I signed up for what was then Dulaang Sadeka as soon
as it was formed, and even joined a chorus that performed a piece
from Brecht—can't remember now which one it was, exactly—in
whiteface at the ALEC. This was even before Gintong Silahis emerged
as SDK's cultural arm, and even before Brecht had be set aside for
being too bourgeois in favor of more overt Peking-Opera- style
tableaus.
It was exhilarating to be in as many rallies and demos as possible,
to be right there in the thick of the Diliman Commune, to march with
a thousand others from Los Baños to Manila, to actually carry a
small Beretta in a hollowed-out Bible, Godfather-style, for Tony
Tagamolila at the CEGP conference (not that I would have known what
to do with it; I'd never fired a shot in my life, and still never
have).
There were, of course, deaths and betrayals to contend with,
especially as martial law approached and took over the landscape.
The bloated face and mutilated body of my tocayo Butch Landrito has
stayed with me all these years, and the last time I counted all the
people I personally knew who died in the FQS, I came up with 21, and
certainly there were more, too many more. There was this one time,
early during martial law, when I found myself in a UG house with
people who've all passed on—Tony Hilario (with his trademark way of
holding a cigarette between the tips of his circled fingers),
journalist Henry Romero (technically still a desaparecido) , and Jack
Peña (ever the Ilonggo, railing against imperiali-sum and the o-well
price hike). Ironically, I may have been saved by being arrested in
January 1973 and spending the next seven months in Fort Bonifacio.
And so I live on, we live on, as the articulate survivors, a little
yellow star imprinted in some imperishable corner of our graying minds.
Masig members Butch Dalisay, Ome Candazo and Solomon Santos are some of the contributors.
Posted here is the March 10, 2008 article of Butch Dalisay in his Philippine Star "Penman column"
-----
"Red Flag, Yellow Star"
("Penman" column piece of Butch Dalisay for Philippine Star, March 10, 2008, p. H-1)
THIS THURSDAY, March 13, from 3 to 5 pm at the Main Lobby of Palma
Hall, the University of the Philippines in Diliman, a new book is
going to be launched by Anvil Publishing with the somewhat
improbable title of Militant But Groovy: Stories of Samahang
Demokratiko ng Kabataan. I wondered where the editors—chiefly human
rights lawyer Soliman Santos—had gotten that title until I re-read
my brief contribution that volume, which I'd submitted more than two
years ago, and I realized, much mortified, that it came from me.
The book is a collection of personal memoirs from veterans of what's
come to be known as the First Quarter Storm—that long period of
intense, rousing, and sometimes frightening political protest that
presaged (and, some say, provoked) martial law in the early 1970s
and set the stage for EDSA. For those of us born in the late 1940s
and early `50s, it coincided with our physical, emotional, and
intellectual coming of age; and those of us who managed to survive
the FQS and stagger on to midlife will always look back on it as our
defining moment; indeed, it defined us as much as we defined it.
The Samahang Demokratiko ng Kabataan, or SDK, was one of
several "mass organizations" that brought young activists together
under the banner of what we proudly avowed to be the "national
democratic revolution." I was 16 when I joined it and embraced its
yellow-starred red flag; barely two years later I would land in
martial-law prison. I've always considered myself lucky to have come
out of martial law alive, because many of our comrades didn't. When
I wrote my first novel, Killing Time in a Warm Place (Anvil, 1992),
it was a form of thanksgiving, of memorializing the dead, and also,
I should admit, of apologizing to them for straying from the path
that led them to their graves.
It's easy to see the events of 35 to 40 years ago with a moist,
romantic eye and to cast ourselves as noble heroes; the definitive,
scholarly history of the martial law years has yet to be written,
and when it is, I'm sure that all our petty foibles—the bare
humanity of those whom we swore could walk on water—will come
through. That will not tarnish nor diminish the very real
contributions of those young Filipinos to the causes and crosses
that we sadly continue to bear today: the struggle against tyranny,
injustice, exploitation, and corruption.
A few weeks ago, on the 22nd anniversary of EDSA 1—I was interviewed
on TV as an FQS activist and as a writer for my impressions of the
current political scene. As often happens with these things, I
forgot what I really wanted to say until I was driving out of the
studio. And it was this: that when we look at or look for the
champions and the heroes who will lead us out of the darkness, we
shouldn't expect to find a perfect man or woman of entirely
unblemished character.
I can't prove it with statistics, but I have a dramatist's suspicion
that every great hero is, in one way or another, deeply flawed—by
hubris, ambition, venery, naivete, or some wayward passion—but they
became and they remain heroes because, at the tipping point, they
rose above their flaws and did something for the greater good that
may have surprised even themselves. When I see all the muck that's
dredged up and thrown at anyone who dares to blow the whistle on
bigtime corruption and oppression in our society, I can't help
thinking what a demolition job they could've done on the likes of
Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio, and Ninoy Aquino—and if we had
believed them, or let ourselves be distracted by Bonifacio's pride,
Rizal's romances, and Ninoy's ambition, then we would have gained
nothing in the end, perpetually hostage to our mistrust and fear.
An interviewer asked me: how should young people—your students—look
at a character like Jun Lozada? I gave a rather broad answer, but I
should've just said, "He's no Rizal and no Ninoy, certainly not, but
if you're a teenager, just think of him as your father, warts and
all. Now what would you do and how would you think if your Dad were
caught in that situation—if armed men took your Dad away to keep him
from telling the truth?" (And for that matter, what can you say to a
child who demands the truth from his teacher, only to be told, "I
can't tell you—it's executive privilege"?)
But to get back to the book: these are the stories of a generation
of street-marchers, and how ironic and yet how apt it is that it's
being launched not in the soft and cozy lap of safe nostalgia, but
in the grip of another crisis, whose noises—whispers, alarms,
clamors, slogans, and soundbites—seem all too familiar.
Here's what I sent in for that book, and for many more of these
reminiscences from such names as Butch Hilario, Gani Serrano, Rol
Peña, Jeepy Perez, Jorge Sibal, Lynn Castilla, Ome Candazo, Jonat
dela Cruz, Efren Abueg, Ven Jose, Jerry Araos, and the late Alex
Ontong and Popoy Valencia, join us this Thursday afternoon for the
launch. I don't know how militant or how groovy we remain, nearly
four decades after the facts being recollected here, so we'll just
have to go there and see.
I JOINED the SDK almost as soon as I entered UP in 1970, through
what I later realized was the normal recruitment route—first,
membership in the more innocuous Nationalist Corps, then integration
into SDK itself. Rightly or wrongly (wrongly, as it turned out), SDK
appealed to me as being somehow just as militant but groovier, to
use a word from that time, than the fire-breathing, roughshod
Kabataang Makabayan (KM).
A lot of the people I knew and idolized were with SDK—Gary Olivar,
Tony Tagamolila, Mario Taguiwalo, Rey Vea—writers and editors all of
whom I, a couple of years their junior, wanted to follow. Some
members were also fraternity brothers in Alpha Sigma—Benny Tiamzon
and Joey Calderon, most notably. I felt I was in the best company;
these guys (and some very nice gals) couldn't possible go wrong. I
was small fry then (and remained small fry), too young to be in on
the big discussions, but it impressed me to overhear people like Vic
David and Titus de Borja chat about the "18th Brumaire of Napoleon
Bonaparte." I was good only for Mao and the Five Golden Rays.
I remember a blur of HQs—Scout Castor, Arayat, an apartment near
Sulo Hotel—but our favorite hangout was the "Trialogue," a small
room at the far left end of Vinzons Hall. At this time my family
lived very close by—we were squatters on Old Balara—but I liked
spending time at the Trialogue, watching Willie Tañedo draw figures
for flyers and streamers (I recall being entranced—with horror and
fascination—by Willie's depiction of Francis Sontillano's splattered
brain).
I fancied myself a propagandist and had had some training in theater
with PETA, so I signed up for what was then Dulaang Sadeka as soon
as it was formed, and even joined a chorus that performed a piece
from Brecht—can't remember now which one it was, exactly—in
whiteface at the ALEC. This was even before Gintong Silahis emerged
as SDK's cultural arm, and even before Brecht had be set aside for
being too bourgeois in favor of more overt Peking-Opera- style
tableaus.
It was exhilarating to be in as many rallies and demos as possible,
to be right there in the thick of the Diliman Commune, to march with
a thousand others from Los Baños to Manila, to actually carry a
small Beretta in a hollowed-out Bible, Godfather-style, for Tony
Tagamolila at the CEGP conference (not that I would have known what
to do with it; I'd never fired a shot in my life, and still never
have).
There were, of course, deaths and betrayals to contend with,
especially as martial law approached and took over the landscape.
The bloated face and mutilated body of my tocayo Butch Landrito has
stayed with me all these years, and the last time I counted all the
people I personally knew who died in the FQS, I came up with 21, and
certainly there were more, too many more. There was this one time,
early during martial law, when I found myself in a UG house with
people who've all passed on—Tony Hilario (with his trademark way of
holding a cigarette between the tips of his circled fingers),
journalist Henry Romero (technically still a desaparecido) , and Jack
Peña (ever the Ilonggo, railing against imperiali-sum and the o-well
price hike). Ironically, I may have been saved by being arrested in
January 1973 and spending the next seven months in Fort Bonifacio.
And so I live on, we live on, as the articulate survivors, a little
yellow star imprinted in some imperishable corner of our graying minds.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
2008 Women's Day
In time with 2008 Women's Day, we launched yesterday two portals for women: Wikipilipinas.org's Encyclopedia of Philippine Women and Filipiniana.net's Philippine Women Studies Microsite.
The launching was held during the 2008 National Women's Day Celebration spearheaded by the NCRFW at the PUP Gymnasium.
I gave a presentation to an audience of about a thousand students, NGOs and government agency representatives.
I talked about the Filipina, HER image in the internet, and how the women portals can contribute to HER upliftment and empowerment.
I also appealed to all to visit the sites and READ, WRITE and SHARE to these revolutionary projects. I invited everybody to Celebrate the Power of the Filipina--online by writing the story of their mothers, sisters, daughters, or any Filipina who made a mark in their lives.
I was also moved by the presentations of Ms. Noemi Lardizabal-Dado and Ms. Dine Racoma (the great ladies behind the Filipinaimages.com) and their advocacy of reshaping the image of the Filipina online.
Modess also presented their Aim High Pinay campaign -- inspiring stories of women.
I really salute them, and the other Filipinas who are actually doing something for the empowerment of the Filipina!
Mabuhay po ang mga Kababaihan!
The launching was held during the 2008 National Women's Day Celebration spearheaded by the NCRFW at the PUP Gymnasium.
I gave a presentation to an audience of about a thousand students, NGOs and government agency representatives.
I talked about the Filipina, HER image in the internet, and how the women portals can contribute to HER upliftment and empowerment.
I also appealed to all to visit the sites and READ, WRITE and SHARE to these revolutionary projects. I invited everybody to Celebrate the Power of the Filipina--online by writing the story of their mothers, sisters, daughters, or any Filipina who made a mark in their lives.
I was also moved by the presentations of Ms. Noemi Lardizabal-Dado and Ms. Dine Racoma (the great ladies behind the Filipinaimages.com) and their advocacy of reshaping the image of the Filipina online.
Modess also presented their Aim High Pinay campaign -- inspiring stories of women.
I really salute them, and the other Filipinas who are actually doing something for the empowerment of the Filipina!
Mabuhay po ang mga Kababaihan!
Incubus Live in Manila! Light Grenades Pacific Rim Tour
I am so excited. In a few hours, I will be at the Incubus concert in Araneta Coliseum. I really want to see Brandon Boyd in person. This man is sooo sexy, talented, charismatic. He is really a great performer.
I am going with Niovic and a friend who claims that she is Brandon's wife.
I'm sure we would have a great time tonight!
I deserve to have fun after a good job yesterday at the Women's Day (another post) So tonight, I will shout, jump, dance, and sing along with Brandon and the rest of the band.
"Pardon me while I burst...."
I am going with Niovic and a friend who claims that she is Brandon's wife.
I'm sure we would have a great time tonight!
I deserve to have fun after a good job yesterday at the Women's Day (another post) So tonight, I will shout, jump, dance, and sing along with Brandon and the rest of the band.
"Pardon me while I burst...."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
