Monthly Archives: January 2008

High School [dot] Com

Posted on by Marocharim
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   Back in high school, we were processing spreadsheets in Lotus 1-2-3, typing documents in WordStar 7, and making databases in Foxrun.  Even having Windows 3.11 was a rarity in those days: the operating system of choice was MS-DOS 6.22.  This was at the turn of the 21st century: in the year 2000, the computers were upgraded to the earliest versions of Windows 95 and Microsoft Works.

   So you can understand my sense of relief, now that my alma mater – Baguio City National High School – has its own website (accessible here).  While I am disappointed with some bits and pieces of the website, I find it a bit weird: it took too long.

   Having been exposed to a more robust information infrastructure in college, I am of the belief that computer literacy is paramount in high school education.  The biggest universities of the Philippines – UP, Ateneo, de la Salle, and UST, among others – have information infrastructures that are integral to their other infrastructures.  For example, UP’s campuses all over the Philippines are connected to each other in one of the strongest connections in the country.  I am told that in UST, the wireless broadband grid goes well up into 1 GB of bandwidth, for a reasonable cost paid every semester.

   This was supposed to be the Department of Education’s “Cyber-Education” program.  However, the sad thing is that there are a lot of things about public schools that demand urgent attention more than computers and Internet connections, like classrooms, books, facilities, competent teachers, and reasonable teacher-to-student ratios.  But for urban schools, I think that strong information infrastructures are necessary for their graduates to stand a chance at university education.

Thank You's: Week One

Posted on by Marocharim
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Now this sounds cheesy, but I made up my blog resolution today: to thank my readers.

Bloggers like myself would cease to exist without an audience, and even a brief visit is most welcome.  You make it all worthwhile.  I’d like to particularly thank my overseas readers from the United States to England, and a few people from Tokyo, Japan, Antwerp, Belgium, and San Jose, Costa Rica.

And how can I forget my Filipino audience?  Salamat!

"The Battle of Angels:" Pinoy Version

Posted on by Marocharim
9

From a CNN report: in Thailand, the flight attendant unions are complaining about a soap opera called “The Battle of Angels,” or “Songkram Nang Fah” in Thai. From what I watched, cabin crew slap each other, yank at each other’s hair, and engage in all-out catfights while dressed in miniskirts. I think of it as Thai-style “Marimar,” with the battle choreography of “Zaido” and the convoluted plot of “La Vendetta.”

So what are the Thai flight attendants so up-in-arms about? They’re worried about the overall “bad impression” that “The Battle of Angels” will have on the viewing public. In the soap opera, flight attendants are dressed in risqué outfits and have sex on flight stopovers. They squabble over the handsome pilot, and bitch-slap each other at high altitudes.

I like it: I can’t wait until they release the DVD version complete with subtitles, and I don’t mind watching a dubbed Filipino version. The idea of high-altitude cat-fights are a welcome respite from the usual formula of a Filipino soap opera.

It’s an automatic choice: “The Battle of Angels,” Pinoy version.

Now the Pinoy version of “The Battle of Angels” is not something I would like to see in GMA-7: I would like to see it in ABS-CBN. ABS’s talent pool is literally oozing with talent suitable for this soap opera.

I’m thinking Anne Curtis, Ruffa Gutierrez, and Jodi Sta. Maria as the stars of this soap. As far as the hunk pilot is concerned, I’m thinking that the Pinoy version of the controversial Thai soap is a good way for Jordan Herrera to make his showbiz comeback (he’s a former adult film star, and he was also in “Pinoy Mano-Mano: The Celebrity Boxing Challenge,” which means he knows a lot about boxing). If that doesn’t work, the best thespic choice for the role of hunk pilot would be Diether Ocampo. After all, “Margarita” flopped.

Speaking of “Margarita,” the Pinoy version of “The Battle of Angels” is a good way to sell the love-team of Wendy Valdez and Bruce Quebral. After all, Wendy has already played the bitch role in “Pinoy Big Brother Season 2.” I also thought of fairly decent titles for the Pinoy version, like “Biyaheng Langit,” “Langit, Lupa, Impyerno,” or “Alapaap.”

Here’s how I see the plot: Anne plays rich girl-turned-noveau poor who is forced to take up a job in an airline to support her family. Diether plays young pilot, and is new to the airline. First day on the job, Diether meets Jordan, his co-pilot. Jodi plays flirtatious flight attendant, fianceé of Diether. Diether falls in love with Anne at first sight. Diether, is engaged to Jodi, so animosity builds up between Anne and Jodi. Enter Ruffa: chief flight attendant, sugar-mommy to Jordan, but has the hots for Diether. Ruffa is willing to dump Jordan for Diether, and Jordan grows suspicious. However, Jordan also has feelings for Anne.

Wendy plays squatter girl near the airport. She is the live-in partner of Bruce, who plays a blue-collar worker. Wendy dreams of being a flight attendant, but Bruce – ever the patriarchal archetypal lalake – would have none of it. While selling halo-halo near the airport, Wendy meets Jordan, and concocts a plan to seduce Jordan for her to be a flight attendant.

Oh yeah, I smell ratings. ABS-CBN producers: here’s your new soap opera.

Development Aggression

Posted on by Marocharim
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   Tomorrow is inauguration day for the multi-million peso BGH flyover.  This magnificent piece of engineering cuts through a water table, threatens the survival of a park, and affects the peaceful surroundings of a convent, a monastery, a hospital, and a university.  This is just one of the many plans to “develop” the City of Baguio.

   We in the social sciences have a term for this: development aggression.  Ramon Casiple defines “development aggression” as such:

“Development is development aggression when the people become the victims, not the beneficiaries; when the people are set aside in development planning, not partners in development; and when people are considered mere resources for profit oriented development, not the center of development.”

   I am a young man from the City of Baguio: I have a lot at stake on the future of the City.  In all my 22 years, I have known of no other place to call home but Baguio.  For a while, my own childish naïveté took the better of me: I was a kid back then, and I thought that “development” can be measured by malls, overpasses, and arches.  But then again, it’s not all that it seemed to be: this small city has three malls, a dozen overpasses, and twice as many welcome arches.  The City Government has literally “concretized” its development plan for the City.  The last straw was when Mayor Peter Rey Bautista laid out his plan to “develop” our parks: souvenir stalls in Mines View, a parking complex at Burnham Park, and turning the Botanical Garden into a “theme park.”

   In case those other young people in City Hall – Mayor Bautista and Councilor Pinky Rondez, among others – didn’t notice, they are depriving everyone of a future.  Not only have they deprived the street-sweepers at Burnham Park a source of livelihood by demanding high school diplomas, but they are depriving us young people of pride of place.  The City is turning into a giant parking lot.  My naïve childhood ideas have come true: Baguio looks more like Manila now.

Fight Notes 1

Posted on by Marocharim
9

Lesnar vs. Mir, UFC

   It’s big news in Yahoo! Sports: former WWE Champion Brock Lesnar versus former UFC Heavyweight Champion Frank Mir in the octagon.  The headline reads: “Fake wrestling star tries UFC.”  Can Brock Lesnar, an untested MMA fighter who made a name for himself in professional wrestling, beat a seasoned MMA fighter in Frank Mir?

   Tale of the tape: Lesnar is 6’3″, 265 lbs., 1-0-0 record in MMA, wrestler.  Mir is 6’1″, 240 lbs., 10-3-0 record in MMA, Brazilian jiu-jitsu specialist.

   Let me break it down for you: this is mixed martial arts, this is the Ultimate Fighting Championship.  This isn’t about whacking a steel chair over somebody’s head or choreographed fighting with soap opera elements thrown in.  This is “real fighting,” although it involves a great part of watching two men roll around on the canvas for three minutes or so.

   Because this is “real fighting,” my crystal ball is not as clear as it is compared to predicting plot lines in pro wrestling.  Having watched my own fair share of both fighters’ fight videos to make “objective” predictions, it’s still pretty vague to me who will win the match.  As good as Lesnar is on the mount, Mir is equally good on his back.  The cinch is that Mir cannot escape Lesnar’s powerful takedown, but he’s in the perfect position to dispense with an armbar.

Last Dance Ladies' Choice at Prom Night

Posted on by Marocharim
6

   You’re in high school, and it’s Prom Night.  Every girl is dressed like Miss Universe, and every boy is dressed like a waiter in some high-class version of McDonald’s.  You smell magic in the air: it smells like Maybelline New York and Jōvan Musk.  You can make out the faint smell of mothballs from the girls’ tables.  The guy in front of you forgot to take off the tag from his crisp shirt bought from the Van Heusen outlet at SM.

   Tonight’s the night!  Weeks of practicing the waltz has led to this one night, where you’d finally take the girl you’re crushing on to the dance floor.  For months, you have longed to sit beside her in class, to admire her perfect penmanship, to take a whiff of her scent that makes you want to go to sleep forever.  Sometimes, she asks for your help for a class assignment, and you stammer your way around the rules of subject-verb agreement.  You can’t even talk to her outside of those topics, but you treasure them, guarding those moments like they were the Holy Grail.

   You call her your “inspiration,” but vehemently deny having romantic feelings for her whenever your friends tease you over a game of DoTA.  “Hinahangaan ko lang naman,” you say in irritation.  But deep in your heart, it’s more than just “admiration.”

   Face it, kid, you’re in love.

   You scan the girls’ tables and look for your “inspiration.”  Ah, there she is, seated with her friends on the far left, just by the window.  The apple of your eye, the meaning of your life, the Rita Hayworth to your Gene Kelly… or maybe the Rita Avila to your Andrew E.  Just what are they giggling about?  Just what are they talking about?  Could you muster up the courage to dance with her for 30 seconds, perhaps invite her for coffee afterwards?

   I can’t say I blame you, lad: she’s beautiful.  She’s fair-skinned, has long flowing hair.  Her eyes are quite attractive, too.  Hah, even that’s not enough for you.  Her skin is as pure as the first cloud of a bright summer morning.  Her hair is like a cascading waterfall, shining with a light that comes from within.  Her eyes are like sparkling stars torn from the very fabric of the universe.  Her lips are like rubies from a Queen’s crown.  She is, to you, the personification of love itself.

   She reaches into her bag for a handkerchief.  Those long-forgotten Shakespeare lectures in English class suddenly rush to your head.  Oh, were you that kerchief upon her hand, that you may touch that cheek!

   One song passes.  Two songs pass.  Three, four… and the disk jockey has gone through an entire CD of romantic songs, from Frank Sinatra to David Pomeranz to Edwin McCain.  What are you doing, boy!  Get up!  Ask her to dance!  No, you sit there drinking your bottled water, content to watch your girl being led to the dance floor by every dumb jock who wouldn’t know a verb from Viagra.  You seem to be content to watch the folds of her dress flow about the floor with the grace of doves on a wedding day.  What are you waiting for, kid!  Tonight’s the night!

   Suddenly, your trance-like state is broken by the sound of a teacher saying, “Last dance, and it’s ladies’ choice!”

   Surely she won’t dance with you now.  It’s over: you might as well pick up your coat, leave early, and learn how to drink.  It seems that you’re forever fated to watch your girl from a distance.  It’s the last dance, and it’s ladies’ choice.  There’s just no way in hell you’d be chosen now.

   You see her walking towards you.  Slowly, as if in a dream, as if she’s walking on thin clouds.  Then she walks around your table.  Round and round she goes… right behind you.  Your heart is beating a million miles an hour.  You feel a gentle tap at your shoulder, and those words: “Do you want to dance?”

   You look over your shoulder… and nobody’s there.

   Damn!  Everyone else is dancing, but not you.  The dance floor is so full of people now: your girl is probably out there dancing with somebody else or something.  Why couldn’t it have been you?  Sorry, kid: tonight’s not your night after all.  You might as well go home now and tell your parents some made-up story that you danced with a girl.

   But wait a second: who’s that seated in the table at the far left?  It’s your girl!

… to be continued …