Chinese Blog Entry # 1

This is my first attempt at a Chinese blog entry. I couldn't fall asleep last night so I decided to try and write something in Chinese. It's a very simple entry and my eternal disclaimer to that is that I have a very limited Chinese vocabulary. I am working on it so be patient with me. For words which I couldn't remember the Chinese terms of, I used online translators like Yahoo! Babel Fish and bab.la. I would have wanted to counter-check with my ever trusty physical dictionary but because I did not anticipate writing anything in Chinese during the break, I left it at the apartment. One of my fears then is that I might have used some words in the wrong context. Chinese readers out there are welcome to comment and help me out.

(For some weird reason, Multiply would not allow me to paste my Chinese text here. "Javascript/CSS not allowed," it informed me dozens of times. I attached the word document instead. Sigh.)

Attachment: chinese blog.doc

Repost: The World Has Gone Crazy

Now I take time off from my self-centered rants to repost a blog entry that needs to be read by
more people.

From Bambee dela Paz's blog (highlights are mine):


Vicissitude: The world has gone crazy.

So, I just had the worst day of my life.

At around 1:30 PM today, at Valley Golf and Country Club, Antipolo City, Mayor Nasser Pangandaman, Jr., Mayor of Masiu City, Lanao del Sur, his father, Secretary Nasser Pangandaman of the Department of Agrarian Reform, and company, beat my defenseless 56-year-old dad and my 14-year-old brother to a pulp because of some stupid misunderstanding on the golf course.

This is a golf course. I have been a golfer all my life, and I have never seen anything like this. NOTHING. This is hard to comprehend. And it happened to my own father and my own brother too. Right in front of my eyes.

My brother and I were playing golf at the South Course of Valley. We were on the 3rd hole, and we see two golf carts going past us, overtaking our flight, and setting up to tee off on the next hole. My dad goes up to them and asks them why they would do that, why they would overtake us without even asking for our permission. Golf etiquette 101. One of the guys says that they're with the flight in front of us. (So what? That doesn't give them the right to just pass us WITHOUT asking.) So, we go to the 5th hole. The flight behind us catches up with us, and asks us what caused the hold up. We said that this flight just slipped in front of our flight. So we complained to the marshall. We play the 5th hole and walk towards the next hole, where there is a teehouse, and both the flights in front of us were there, talking with the marshall. The mayor of Masiu City, Lanao del Sur talks with my dad. Things get heated up. Voices were raised. But never, in my wildest dreams, did I ever imagine that someone would pull out a punch. Apparently not. He attacks my father. His flightmates, maybe 2 or 3 of them, rush to his aid and beat up my father. My 56-year-old father. My younger brother and I could not just watch. We rushed to break the fight. My younger brother pleads to the mayor to please stop it. To not hurt my dad. To just stop. His words still ring through my head..."Sorry na po, sorry na po...tama na...tama na po..." With his hands in front of his chest in a praying position. PLEADING. The mayor socks him in the face. My brother defended himself. My dad is still on the ground getting clobbered. My brother is the same way. I try to stop the fight, but all I can do is stop one person. There were 4 or 5 of them attacking now.

Someone breaks up the fight. I thought it was all over. The mayor shouts to his caddy: "Hindi nila kami kilala! Sabihin mo nga sa kanila kung sino ako!" And believe me, I had no idea who this person was. But now I know. He's the person who, with 4 other men, beat up my 56-year-old father and my 14-year-old brother. He's the person who sacks a pleading 14-year-old kid in the face. He's a person who, I am sure, is gonna rot in hell.

I lash out, but my dad held me back. I was screaming my lungs out, shouting to this mayor, telling him about what he had done. I said: "Nakakahiya kayo. Singkwenta'y sais anyos ang tatay ko. And kapatid ko kakatorse anyos. Anong ilalaban nila sayo?"

The mayor looks at my brother, point to his face, and says, "Tatandaan kita!" And he tells me that my brother has a bad attitude and that I need to watch him. WHAT THE HELL?! So, my brother's bad for defending his father?!

We leave. We walk to the clubhouse to file a complaint. My brother asks for a doctor. My dad could barely walk. Their group comes to the clubhouse, sees my brother. Once again my brother pleads, says sorry, and is crying. He was CRYING, for crissakes. But no. The relentless mayor still punches him in the face, and then sees my dad and goes after my dad again. Him and his friend pull my dad to the ground, pulls at his feet, and steps on him like he's dirt. I run to him and try to hold him back, holding him back by his shirt, while this other guy and this girl tries to stop me. She tells me to just stop it. I scream in her face "they're beating my father up and you want me to stop?!" I pull at his shirt--I don't let go. All I can see was my dad being trampled on. I didn't even see my brother getting beat up.

People pull them away. I get my dad, and I saw my brother. His right ear was bleeding. I freaked out. I told the receptionists to bring my brother to the clinic. I pull my dad away. People were separating us.

My mom and my older brother come. I tell her Bino's right ear is bleeding. They both look like they could kill. My dad holds my brother off, I hold off my mom. When I finally got my mom under control, my older brother gets away and I hold him off. Two of the mayor's bodyguards pull out guns. I embraced my brother from the back, just holding him back, crying. The receptionists came to us, crying, hugging me, my dad, and my mom, whispering to us to just leave. "Maam, umalis na po kayo, may mga baril sila...Maam...umalis na po kayo please..."

I am pretty sure the Secretary of DAR did not take part in the fight, but he just watched all this happen. He watched two of his sons, as we figured out, the other guy was his son, too, beat up my father and my 14-year-old brother. He didn't do anything to stop it. And this person is what now? A cabinet member. A politician.

Sounds like something out of a movie, doesn't it? But this is what happened. TODAY. The day after Christmas. To my family. And all I ask for is JUSTICE. The people at Valley Golf did not seem to want to help us. None of the security guards even tried to stop the fight. Right in the clubhouse. I came back after the fight was over and talked to the receptionists. They say they did not see anything. The general manager of Valley Golf would not give us the names of the men who made my brother's ear bleed. It took him an hour. Maybe even more than that. He seemed to not want to help us. Because, we were against the SECRETARY OF THE DEPARTMENT OF AGRARIAN REFORM and the MAYOR OF MASIU CITY, LANAO DEL SUR. They were all scared.

The world has gone crazy. Two politicians beat up a defenseless 56-year-old father and his 14-year-old son. At a golf course. I swear to God, I thought golfers were decent people. You would think politicians were decent people. I guess not. I guess they gang up on 56-year-old men and beat up pleading 14-year-old kids.

Please pray for my dad, my brother and for my whole family. Please pray that we get JUSTICE. Oh God, please, give these people what they deserve.

A Promise to be Fine in 12 Hours

Maybe because I hope a little too much, expect a little too soon, believe a little too often. Maybe because I just never learn, never pause before the plunge, never thought to make a plan much less plan B. But I never really know when a piece of me is enough, a single serving just right. How is it to quantify oneself so as not to give too much?

It's been a series of disappointments, one after another. And each time I berate myself for being stupid, for not knowing any better, or more often for knowing and yet allowing myself to be stupid anyway. It can get very tiring. Really. Being stupid is not what they said it is. Oh, I think that's ignorance. A close relative though so one would expect them to have the same effect.

So yeah. I was stupid yet again. And as always it ended in this, a tired refrain of bitterness and pain. Allow me this for tonight. I promise not to indulge in it for long, as always, a promise I give myself whenever this happens. So yes, I will be fine.

All Saints' Day '08

Long overdue All Saints' Day pictures. Forgive me.

Free Online Calendar for Families, Schools, Churches and more

http://famundo.com
Manila is probably the world's most planner-crazy city. To find proof of that, one only needs to visit any Starbucks store during Christmas season. In line are card-clutching yuppies obsessively counting the number of cups to go before being able to finally possess the much-coveted planner for the next year.

I am, of course, not immune to the planner-frenzy culture of chaotic Manila. I looove planners! Maybe it's the illusion of being organized that makes me feel like I couldn't live without one. Or it's an extension rooted from my attachment to notebooks. Unlike regular notebooks though, it's such a pity that one can only have a single planner in a year. Anything more would be indulgent and downright impractical.

Still.

When I stumbled into this online planner, I just had to sign up for it despite the fact that I already have an actual physical planner which serves its purpose pretty well. See, if you have TWO physical planners, that's indulgent. But! If you have one in real life and one in cyberlife, it totally makes sense!

Because an online planner will make it so much easier for you and your friends to compare calendars and plan activities together. An online planner can be accessed anytime anywhere that has Internet connection. Soon, gone will be the days when you would lug a bulky dog-eared notebook in meetings and frantically search for a pen in your jungle-bag. (No, those days will never really be gone but I'm making a case here so shut up.) Plus, an online planner looks really cool and uh... cosmopolitan. Who doesn't want cool and cosmopolitan, right?

So um, yes. You should all join me there because right now I have no one to compare schedules with and it gets lonely a bit. *sniffs

Christmas 2008 and Birthday 2009 Wishlist

Has it been a year already? Actually, it's been more than a year...

Last year at about this time, I made a Christmas and birthday wishlist (under the assumption that people were just dying to give me gifts, ok I know some of them just felt that they were compelled to, but didn't know what to give me). I now take a quick look at that list to see if I have any of the same material issues or not.

• wi-fi card for laptop --> I don't need this anymore because *ahem, I just bought myself a new notebook computer that's wi-fi ready *ahem *giggles
  
• portable vacuum cleaner, preferably a Black and Decker Dustbuster --> Yes, I still want one. Shucks, it's been more than a year!! I've been pining for this for more than a year now. Have pity, people!
  
• a pack of Sony rechargeable batteries (4 pcs.) --> I already bought myself a 2-pc pack months ago
  
• a comfortable pair of 1.5 wedge-heeled sandals --> Well, a girl can't have too many pairs of shoes, can she?
  
• a bath towel (I know. Times are hard.) --> I think I have enough to last me my entire lifetime. Just about every other person gave me a towel last year because of this post.
• Spanish lessons --> Sure! But I'll have to find the time too. If anyone wants to sponsor this, I'm sure I'll be able to squeeze it in.
  
• Advanced Mandarin lessons --> My generous boss paid for this!! :)
  
• arnis training --> Same as the Spanish lessons.
  
• disposable contact lenses --> Yes, I think I need to buy a new pair soon.
  
• a haircut and hot oil combo --> Just the hot oil will do for now.
  
• a body scrub --> I will never turn down an offer like this.
  
• a full body massage --> ...and this too.
  
• Olay Total Effects facial moisturizer --> Sure. Not a priority though. But yeah, why not?
  
• Body Shop liquid foundation # 6 --> Umm, not now. Any other products from the Body Shop is most welcome though. It would be better to check with me first just so, you know, we can avoid redundancy.
  
• perfume and/or cologne --> I think I have enough for now.
  
• a trip to Bohol/Boracay/Palawan/Sagada (You may suggest some other places. I'm very flexible.) --> Yes, please!!
  
• cash! --> Double yes!!
  

Ha! Because I am too lazy to figure out how to summarize the above list into neat percentages, I will not attempt to. Instead, I will make a new list for this year! I love lists! :D

So aside from some of the items above, you may also give me:

• a new digital camera! Sure, the old one still works fine. But if for some reason you want to give me a sleeker more high-tech model, please let the spirit of Christmas guide you.
• a slim, portable external CD drive (preferably a DVD writer too). For the new notebook computer. *giggles
  
• a white leather bag. I have been looking for the perfect one for a really long time now. So far, the ones I found are either ok-priced-but-not-to-die-for ones, or super-nice-but-my-conscience-will-never-allow-me-to-buy ones. I suggest that you take me along with you if this is what you want to give me to make sure we get the perfect bag.

Surprise, surprise, I can't think of anything else! So there. Merry Christmas!!

*big hugs again!

I was on Chinese News!

I have very recently downloaded a software that finally enables my computer to type in simplified Chinese through the use of pinyin. Excited and vain, I googled my Chinese name and was very surprised that the search result actually came up with a list of articles mentioning my name. I am not only vain, I am also very paranoid. Thus, my immediate reaction was one of fear. What could they have been saying about me all these years behind my back? And because the level of my Chinese-reading is very low, I could not immediately understand the lines that stared back at me. I chose a link and clicked. I gave the article a scan... Yup, it really was me because aside from my Chinese name, I recognized the characters for "Philippines," "26 years old this year," and a number of other things that made it impossible for the article to be talking about someone else. And well, my English name was also there, albeit misspelled as Jone (come on, people! Four letters!! It's just four letters!).

Irrationally worried, I looked for my bookmarked translator site and deciphered the meaning amidst the literal direct translation of the text. And I breathed a sigh of relief.

I can actually remember that day when the "interview" was conducted. Except at that time I didn't know it was an interview. I thought it was a let's-be-friendly-and-have-a-mindless-conversation small talk. Anyway, that day I think the press was invited to the training camp and watch the national team train. I was told to drop by the shooting range which I did because I was curious. Note: I was in a very ratty t-shirt. And then the small talk with the journalist, whom I had met before because she would do translation services for the team when a foreign resource speaker sometimes came and whom I didn't even know was a journalist (I thought she was a translator!) until much later. But there were cameras, yes. The cameras must have given me a clue that it was a news-worthy day.

So fastforward to a day more than two years after when I downloaded google pinyin. I can imagine now how it must have been a tad interesting to have a foreign girl with broken Chinese teaching English to the national shooting team. I found the same "news" with slight variations in a number of sites and reprinted below one of them:

请外国教练“另类备战” 中国射击队刮起英语风 Aug 13 2006

晨报讯“这是气步枪，这个叫手枪……”昨天上午，在当天的射击奥运模拟赛开赛之前，国家射击队总教练王义夫领着一个外国女孩出现在北京射击场，两个人一边参观场内的设备，一边用英语和汉语进行着交流。

    这个被王义夫戏称为“教你”的菲律宾女孩英文全名叫ＪｏｎｅＣｈａｍ，她还有一个中文名字叫詹心帆。

    今年26岁的她在菲律宾时是个语文老师。一年前，她来到中国，在辽宁铁岭的一家外语学院任教。半个月前，她看到网上关于中国射击队招聘英语老师的信息，就 把自己的简历投了过来。“我现在还在试用期。”Ｊｏｎｅ用不太流利的中文向记者介绍，“过了三个月的试用期，我才可以和他们签合同，合同期应该是一年。”

    谈到对射击队员的印象时，Ｊｏｎｅ用“很好，他们很爱学习”来形容。谈到对哪个队员印象深刻时，Ｊｏｎｅ歪着脑袋想了几秒钟，笑道：“他们的中文名字我记不清了。”这时，男子手枪选手徐坤走了过来，Ｊｏｎｅ兴奋地说，“他的英语还不错！”

        “英语老师一周大致会给我们上两节课，每次一到两个小时。平时，我们遇到不明白的地方或者与射击有关的词汇，都会问她。”一名小队员告诉记者。

    记者在射击队一名工作人员手中看到一个印着英文的小本，上面分为专用名词、常用词汇、图例等几部分，包含了很多射击方面的单词，也有日常交际用的词汇。

       “对运动员来讲，光会打枪是不行的。文化、思想道德都得抓。”王义夫告诉记者，他鼓励教练、队员平时和英语老师对话时尽量用英语，“以前我们到 国外比赛，语言不通耽误了很多事情。亚运会即将来临，奥运会前还有很多国际大赛，射击队不能再当哑巴和聋子了，把外语学好，起码在赛场上能听懂人家说什 么。”

(彭帆)

(责任编辑：海盗)

http://sports.sohu.com/20060813/n244765703.shtml

Except for minor changes in the format and adding the date, that was how it appeared exactly. I could attempt at a translation, but I'm too lazy. One little complaint though, I wasn't a "language teacher" when I was in the Philippines. I was teaching Literature! There IS a difference. Hmp.

Light Years and Love Lost in the Oleanders by Alane Rollings

Rating:	★★★★★
Category:	Other

I found an old tattered piece of paper stuck between the pages of an old journal while I was home in Valenzuela and going through forgotten things. I suddenly remembered how much I wept over these lines at a time when I was young and heartbroken. I'm posting it here for old time's sake. And because it really is such a good poem.


Light Years and Love Lost in the Oleanders
By Alane Rollings

Does my voice reach you? You are
as silent as a star and as incompanionable.
And I have done my research on these things.
I have spent many hours with the delicate turquoise amphibians
who live under sundials. They outnumbered me.
I was barely in touch with the sky, then.
I spent my days waiting for that one bit of good news
that would turn my life around.
You. Your charms, your hesitations. No one needs to tell me
how well everyone remembers you.
But have I told you about my arms, my half-healed embraces?
The disarray of my life is no longer too personal to share,
though I still can’t remember much of what I did before,
who I went out with, how much I missed.
I’m told I spent the days reading the exotica painted on cigar boxes,
and the nights over small distress messages on computer printouts.
Anyway, I’m sorry if you got the idea that I was in control.
Wasn’t I running out of the room to cry or be sick or something
when I saw you? I remember a light unwinding over my head,
and other kindnesses I’d never have done for myself.
I noticed the distance in your voice, your eyes.
You gave me gin and ginger for my stomach,
and if there was nothing to celebrate, we were
deliberate about it, like those accustomed to their own fragility.
Your astonishing stories floated in like graceful fleets,
and I did believe you had beautiful ancestors with beautiful titles.
Don’t ever tell anyone how you do it.

I think now that I understand
the things some women make their happiness of—
the water that waits in seashells, questions that silence themselves—
I no longer tell people about you
hoping to make them think more of me.
And I will not come to you anymore for sedatives,
you from whom I borrowed my life.
I will offer you green silence and solitude
and a belief in everything.
I remember a little more now. I was a long way off.
I had nightmares in dead languages and sailboats in my backyard
that ran off to sea night after night
looking for stars that had fallen light years and light years ago.
So you see why I can’t let you pass through my life.
I suppose that you, too, have escaped in every direction,
have heard the swish of nickel and iron beneath you,
and you are no more flattered by my attraction than the center of the earth is.
But I am looking for the glare that lives
in gardens deeper than mirrors. I am hoping
that you will complete my past. Give me silent embraces,
the quiet transitions that love will put us through,
and I will only wish I’d also known you
when you were young and waiting under the lime trees
for one sweet word to fall.
I'd have been the kind of girl
you'd have bothered with.

Making Progress

I have five remaining sessions in my Mandarin class. That means I have had 22 hours of the lessons, and ten more hours to go. A part of me likes to think I am making amazing progress, another part of me knows I am not even halfway near the finish line--if there is even one. I try and not think of that "finish line" because that can be too daunting a goal. While my teacher and I meet twice a week, two hours per session, I take it upon myself to have the discipline to study by myself at least two hours in a week, more if work is not toxic. I actually enjoy the auto-didactic sessions and sometimes lose myself in the exercise more than I thought possible.

During our first few sessions whenever I would mispronounce a word while reading the Chinese text aloud, I would hit my palm to my forehead and let out a frustrated growl, followed by profuse apologies, more to myself than to my laoshi. I have since tried to control the intensity of my reactions out of consideration to my laoshi. He seemed shocked at these outbursts. I do not blame him. 

Learning Chinese is probably one of the most difficult things I have subjected myself to. That, and writing a novel--still in progress, sometimes I fear will forever be in progress. In an age when most everything is designed to be easy, instant, and just a click away, learning a language--and in fact, writing a novel too--is my constant reminder that for some things, you will have to devote time and a lot of hard work. No shortcuts: not all the money in the world is going to make you better at it without that hybrid seed of desire and determination first taking root. And just as with anything that has real value, it will be worth the heartbreak and frustration. It is precisely because it is never easy that makes it all worthwhile. 

(And yes, I think we have long established my masochism in previous entries.)

Alone Time

Today I decided to have my alone time. Armed with a couple of books, a notebook, a pen and my ipod (just in case), I set out to the mall. Of course I understand a mall is hardly a place to be alone in but there is much to be said about the contrast between being around people and yet being alone and separate from the crowd. And so I decided the mall will be the site of my alone time.

As I was having lunch at Burger King, facing the glass window outside, I saw a man with his two daughters and a son queuing at a Snowstorm kiosk. Their group's sudden movement as they turned away from the kiosk caught my attention. I sensed their delight more than saw it and so unnoticed, I watched more intently as the father gave a spoonful of ice cream to the son, a daughter, himself, and finally the eldest child and I was struck by the innocence and magic of it all: a family enjoying ice cream together on a Sunday afternoon. The whole thing lasted for only a few minutes and then they walked away. I'm guessing they had at most three spoonfuls each. But could there be anything sweeter as sharing ice cream with people you love on a bright Sunday afternoon?

And then I went window shopping, always a good exercise on solitude. I was successful at prying myself loose from all the yummy leather bags and sandals latching on to me as soon as they caught sight of me. I was not, however, successful at Powerbooks where I walked away with the scholarly Harold Bloom's "How to Read and Why," and the more obscure Lily Tuck's "Limbo and Other Places I Have Lived." They were on sale! And a lot cheaper than the shoes!!

Because I remembered I still had Starbucks gift certificates, I decided to continue being alone at Starbucks instead of the cafe of choice, Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. As luck would have it, I was randomly chosen to answer an online survey and get a free tall drink on my next visit. Ha! A confirmation of how good things indeed come to good people (because I am not just holy, I am holier than thou, or so I have been told *giggles).

Of course now that I have Bloom's book, I could not help but read it first. Besides, why else would the universe let me find it today of all days when I had been after it since college? How fitting, to read a book about reading--itself a solitary act! And on a day I had especially designated to be an exercise on solitude.

I now leave with a quote from Hemingway's "The Snows of Kilimanjaro," one of the stories Bloom used as an example and one that struck me most because of how simple pain was laid out, "He had loved too much, demanded too much, and he wore it all out." That line reflects those rare times when pain is so beautiful that you cannot help but ache for more.

My First (Ob)Session of Masochistic Fun

At 7 tonight, I had the first session of my Mandarin lessons. I am, to say the least, exhausted. Two hours of mental acrobatic translations can do that to you. It's been almost two years since I last conversed in Mandarin for more than fifteen minutes and I am now all drained of whatever Chinese words that inhabited my brain.

But it was fun. Because my brain particularly enjoys getting a linguistic beating from time to time. It thrives at the sweet logic of language and the sensual sound of words as they roll off my tongue and escape my lips. It delights at each discovery of a new word, phrase, pattern... very much like a lover thrilled at the little pleasures of a new affair, so much more pleasant as they come to her in surprising little bursts... A new language, like a new lover, comes with so much promise, so rich with potential that one cannot just say no for fear of what one might miss.

Although come to think of it, Mandarin is hardly new to me; but a lover nonetheless--teasing and mysterious, revealing itself one day at a time. Just when I think I know enough, it takes off one more layer of its clothing, and then I realize again and again and yet again how there is always so much more to know. Because just as it reveals, concealed underneath is even more than I could ever fathom. For when does it end? Does it ever really end?

And oh it demands so much of me! How it demands so much of my time and energy, my patience and devotion, my passion and love. But despite it all, it refuses to be possessed. And that only makes me want more.

Thus the exhaustion.

It should be worth it. To love is to exhaust oneself for the beloved. Otherwise what's the point?

The Covers Project

I got this from good friend Trina, and as promised, I am reposting it here in the hopes that some artistic soul would read it and want to be part of it. So go, go, go!


Hey Joni!

Sending you an invitation for THE COVERS PROJECT, a collaborative art project by Filipino artists from around the world. Please check it out and let your friends know about it too! We're trying to rally 3000 Filipino artists to create one cover each for the first issue of the Art in Site magazine. It will be really cool.

Sincerely,
Trina




Where are all the amazing, brilliant Filipino artists?

The Covers Project count to date is 989 artists -- a great response given that we launched the project just 2 weeks ago. From the looks of it, Manila artists make up the list 3:1. We want ALL Filipino artists represented! Don't be shy. Create a cover for the Art in Site magazine at www.artinsitemagazine.com. You have 4 weeks to shout loud and proud from your corner of the world.

Thanks to those who have already signed up. If you know a friend (or two or three or four) holed up in their studio or in some region without internet, passionately working on their next latest and greatest -- please help us SPREAD THE WORD!

PHILIPPINES
1 Aklan
1 Albay
1 Amodeo
1 Bulacan
4 Antipolo
1 Antique
1 Aurora
1 Bacnotan
2 Bacolod
2 Bataan
7 Batangas
8 Benguet
4 Bicol
2 Bohol
17 Bulacan
24 Cavite
13 Cebu
6 Davao
3 Ilocos
13 IloIlo
1 Isabela
2 La Union
24 Laguna
2 Lanao del Norte
1 Leyte
5 Luzon
768 Manila
2 Mindoro
2 Palawan
9 Pampanga
3 Pangasinan
4 Negros
2 Nueva Viscaya
1 Sorsogon
1 Tagaytay
1 Tarlac
1 Taytay
1 Valenzuela
1 Zambales

THE REST OF THE WORLD
2 Australia
1 Belgium
1 Bosnia
1 Canada
1 Great Britain
1 Indonesia
1 Iceland
1 Japan
1 Saudi Arabia
1 Singapore
1 Thailand
1 Taiwan
32 USA
1 New Zealand

My PSA Work Area

I have been meaning to post pictures of my work area but never got to doing it. Since I've recently promised a friend I would, that gave me motivation at least.

It must be said that I nest. I can only feel comfortable in a place once I've surrounded myself with things familiar and loved. So yes, I am very comfortable in my work area.

Beijing Revisited

Our ultimate turista experience for the year finally pushed through the third weekend of June. We took this very seriously, being on turista mode days before our scheduled trip. I even dug out my belt bag for the occasion.

So Nuna, Akoh and I hardly slept the night before our morning flight. The trip held individual meanings for each of us. For me, it was a chance to share a glimpse of my life in China with two important people in my life.

Read and see Nuna's version of the China turista experience here: http://thejonastory.multiply.com

My Independence Weekend

I had not been reading fiction lately. In fact I had not been reading anything literary these past months, nor had I been watching plays nor movies. And we all know TV can hardly be considered literary. (Yes, I'm a snob.) The void was not immediately apparent, though, as my days were pretty much filled with words upon words of analyses of the ever-changing political landscape that was the Middle Kingdom. Yet my spur of the moment trip to Powerbooks on Saturday exposed the jarring hole. The realization was so sudden and unexpected. I had almost forgotten what I was missing.

Or perhaps I needed a justification for my purchase of the two books. I always feel the need to justify buying things, it's almost an illness. So I bought two books: a collection of short stories by the Canadian writer Carol Shields and a compilation of interviews of creative writers on the way they write, aptly titled, "The Way We Write." I couldn't wait to start reading them but it was late and I was tired so they had to wait.

I started on the interviews first, over a large flavored coffee at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on a bright Sunday afternoon. Again, something I hadn't done in a long time. There is something about the unfolding of people's stories that never fails to move me and, cliche of cliches, make me feel more human. But that has become a luxury.

Yet another workweek starts and I have to put off my humanity in favor of more important issues for more important people. Stories will have to wait.

On My Lack of a Lovelife

About a week ago, I overheard my sister Nuna telling our friends that she wished I would finally get myself a boyfriend, the reason being it had been a long time since I last had one. She would probably only know that I heard her when she reads this... which is right about... now. There. Hmp, talking about me behind my back. :p

And then last Saturday, after a hearty meal in Tapa King and while waiting for the halo-halo, she said that maybe I should go out more so I could meet more boylets. I had to ask again to clarify that she meant "me," as in, "I" have to go out more? Yes, of course. For a while I thought we were gossiping about someone. So where do I go about finding this boylet who has the ability to magically change my life? "Why don't you join one of those dating events?" "Speed dating?" "Yes!"

Now, I am a very lazy person. In addition to that, I am also very stingy. I refuse to join speed dating events (even as I had helped organize one before) because I would much rather buy myself something nice instead of paying for an overpriced dinner. Not that I don't believe in speed dating. I just cannot bring myself to cough up the money required to attend one.

And I do admit to having very high standards. Well-meaning friends would ask, "So what's your type?" hoping to set me up with their single guy friends. Without batting an eyelash, I would retort, "Why, nothing short of perfection." "No, really, what's your type?" as if I was joking. "Really, he has to be perfect." "But nobody's perfect," would come the reply, four out of five times, I swear. But you asked for my type and that's my type!

Of course "perfect" is relative. It's just that I don't want to have to enumerate all of these traits that everyone wants anyway. Really, would you rather that I rattle off smart (oops, not just smart... more like brilliant), sweet, charming, sensitive, responsible, sincere, affectionate, funny, articulate, successful, ambitious, kind, loving, cute, and open-minded? In random order, of course. I mean, would you? And doesn't it already follow that any woman would want a man who's all of those and then some?

And then people would ask why I don't have a boyfriend. Because there's a dearth of brilliant, sweet, charming, sensitive, responsible, sincere, affectionate, funny, articulate, successful, ambitious, kind, loving, cute, and open-minded men that's why! (In the remote chance that you are all of these, AND a man--a straight man, that is, and single--that's important too!; please come forward.)

Not that I haven't seriously wondered enough about my lack of a lovelife. In fact, I've wondered so much that I have gotten so sick and tired of wondering about it. Now I just spend the time reading about Mao Tse Tung's lovelife (the asshole, cheating on his wife!) because really, what else is there left to do?

Oh. And in another remote chance that you actually know of a living, breathing single straight man who is all of the adjectives above but who for some reason might not be able to read this, do me and my sister a favor and forward this to him. Thanks!

Stupid Pig’s China Blog

http://chunzhu.wordpress.com/
Here is one China blog that I've started following recently. The blogger (the stupid pig, if you must) is an American of Cantonese-Chinese descent, and he mainly writes about his life in China where he works now as an English trainer at Microsoft Beijing’s Advanced Technology Center.

I love the tongue-in-cheek humor in his posts, and the way he manages to present a different argument to anything from normal everyday situations to issues of national, or even international, concern. Plus he never takes himself seriously, which is fun. And he makes a lot of sense too.

So yes, I recommend that you read him. Go to his page. Now.

Pagbilao Beach, May 2008

I finally got to swim this summer. The last two times I was within five meters of a body of water, I had my period so swimming was out of the question. And because I love getting my picture taken, I had the most pictures. *giggles

I stole most of these from Jing and Artie.

Supersized Paranoia. To Go, Please.

As I was going home last Friday night, I noticed a woman wearing a black burkha (you know that head garment that basically covers the whole head and has only a slit for the eyes) sitting in the innermost part of the jeepney. Because she was dressed in dark colors, it was easy to miss her but once you'd seen her, it was impossible to ignore her. At first I was curious so I watched her. And because she was covered from head to toe save for her eyes and hands, there was that sense of watching something that could not watch back.

And then I got paranoid.

Thoughts flashed: She could be a holdupper pretending to be a Muslim so she could cover her face!

I watched even more.

The two women across from me were talking. One said, "Teka kinakabahan ako. Parang gusto ko na bumaba. (Wait, this is making me nervous. I think I want to get off.)" Friend replied, "Tara, baba na tayo. (Let's get off here.)"

Now that's mean, I thought.

I watched the woman some more. That's a pretty big bag. Wait, where's her hand? What's inside her bag? What if her hand's inside her bag, fingering a gun that she would point at us at just precisely the right time? What if she's a suicide bomber? What if she's not even a she?

Know that I am paranoid by nature. Compound that with the fact that everyday I read about attempted terrorist attacks, real or imagined. Really, it's like breakfast: a bus exploded in Shanghai. Pfft. A woman was reportedly caught with inflammable liquid onboard a flight going to Beijing. Um, is it time for lunch now?

Still I fought the urge to get off the jeepney. I was not going to discriminate against people of a different faith. I was not going to be mean to this innocent woman who did nothing wrong to me nor to anyone I know. I was not going to be one of those ignorant... wa-wait, I was not going to be in the headlines the next day!

Just make your hands visible, lady. Please. There, there. One, two. Two hands in sight. Ok, maybe five more minutes before my stop. Eyes on the hands...

Yes. Yes, I know. I am very, very ashamed of myself. I should not be thinking these thoughts.

I tried not to breathe an audible sigh of relief when we got to my stop. I got off the jeepney then walked fast. Away before it could explode.

Of course it did not explode and I berated myself even more.

And then she was there with me again on the jeepney last night. I was sitting beside the driver. I turned around and there she was right behind the driver.

The fact that nothing terroristic happened the last time should have been enough reassurance that nothing would happen again this time. But I could see her dark presence out of the corner of my left eye. And I couldn't keep watch of the hands this time.

And so I am here confirming that no jeepney was bombed last night.

And I am very, very, very ashamed of myself. Please forgive me.

Biting into the China Cake

I am taking a break from writing my special report on China's social unrest to retain my sanity. At least whatever's left of it. If you remember how it was back in school, two weeks before the final paper is due, then you'd have a fairly good idea how I feel every time. At best. Because unlike being in school where you have the whole term or at least half the term to fret about what to write, I have all of two weeks. And my heart would beat even faster as the days start passing me by...

As if that wasn't bad enough, I now also write special reports on top of the regular reports. It's like another term paper, only the deadline is more flexible. But not too much because then it would never get written. That's what I'm doing now: making sure it gets written. But then what's so special about it is that its scope is usually wider and the information more detailed. So I'm trying to work those in, aside from just getting it written.

The sense of intimidation emanates from the fact that I have only quite recently started serious reading of Chinese affairs. Every time I approach a topic, I would have at least 30 pages of research (font 9 because I want to save as much paper as I could) to read through before I can confidently convince myself that I know enough of it to write a credible article. And that's still only little crumbs of a much bigger cake that is China itself. Five thousand years of civilization! Can anyone blame me for feeling inadequate? I am always just trying to catch up at best.

And so everyday I calm my nerves enough to take a little bite and chew what I could handle. Never mind that it terrifies me to read about, we're not even talking about writing yet, inflation and how the yuan's rise impact the lives of both foreign investors and ordinary Chinese. Never mind that I didn't even know where Tibet was on the map previous to the riots that erupted there in March. Never mind that I could not identify more than half of the African countries China is now dealing with if not because of an article I had to write about the Sino-African relations.

And then comes the confession. Some masochistic part of me enjoys this biweekly torture. Maybe precisely because it reminds me of school. Or maybe because I am genuinely interested in the readings, except more often than not I wasn't made aware of their existence until I was already chewing on them. Or maybe I really am just a masochist.

And so break's over. Time to cram for my term paper due tomorrow.

Weekend Goal

So I was hanging out at the Mindstorm office, leafing through an old issue of Time Magazine... It's weird but everything I do now has to be related to China somehow. I couldn't help but leaf through Time and see if I could find anything on China that I might be able to use some time in the future. It feels like I learned so much about China these past two and a half months than at any time in my life.

But that's not really the point of this entry. I got sidetracked as early as the second sentence. So going back, I was leafing through Time and I saw a blurb about Miranda July's book. I didn't even know she has a book. I greatly enjoyed two films that I saw by her so that got me excited. Plus the blurb said, "The lives of misfits told in quirky, almost unbearably intense short stories." And then I suddenly missed writing.

Following that was a conversation with Artie how we also want to write intense stories. Unbearable ones, too. Sigh.

So I'm gonna try and write a short story this weekend. Hopefully, an unbearably intense one. I owe myself that much.

Life Update

It has occurred to me that my poor neglected Multiply has not had a single entry for almost two months now. My social calendar, too, does not seem to see much activity these days. It being a Friday night, I have decided to (no, not have a social life but something better!) update my blog!! Nothing exciting to report, really, except that I know my two readers out there are curious about what I've been up to so here goes:

• I've transferred jobs, which most of you already know. Yeah, no big surprises there being the Touch-and-Go job-hopper Joni that I am. As a result of the new job, I am now very knowledgeable about all things Chinese. Okay, maybe not all. Let's just put it this way: on any given day, I would have read scores and scores of articles on China and whatever current issue is plaguing it. That is not an exaggeration.
  
• I've started working out. In a week, I exercise about two or three times before going to work in addition to the two yoga classes that I attend. I like the painfully sweet feeling of sore muscles healing.
  
• I joined the Women's Groups march denouncing GMA's leadership in Mendiola on International Women's Day and almost got into an ugly fight with the police. Well, it would have turned ugly if I hadn't controlled myself.
  
• I got myself an ipod. I know, I know. That's really quite extravagant of me but sigh. Now I'm trying to find the time to fill in 80gb of memory! Send me songs! TV shows or movies! Whatever! Just send them to me please.
  
• I went beaching in Bataan and shopping in Subic with family on Holy Saturday (is that what it's called?). As usual, Baby Iel took the spotlight with her super cute and kikay poses. I'm still waiting for her mom to post the pictures... *hint hint.
• I got myself a stalker. Not that I intentionally planned to have one but it was, as most things in my life, because of my stupidity that this little episode in my life had to happen. Notice that I used the past tense, hopeful that the fact that he neither called nor texted today means he has given up and I will very soon be able to look back and laugh at this. Details will be given when that time has come when I am already laughing about it. Be patient.
  

So there. Now give me updates on your lives. I never seem to see anyone anymore.

A Country in Desperate Need of a Hero

Even the most hardened pessimist could not help but hope that perhaps, Jun Lozada can be that guy who can finally expose the Arroyo administration for what it really is: corrupt and self-serving. Because hell, we all know that it IS corrupt, but so far, not even coups had managed to topple it down.

I first heard of the ZTE controversy when JDV III cried foul, exchanged heated words with FG Arroyo, then promptly left the country. I am not especially fond of JDV and his clan but even then, I believed JDV III. One, he is the lesser of two evils (come on, FG has horns!) and two, he would not have had the courage to go against the administration if he weren't telling the truth. I was hoping for a showdown. A let's-say-bad-things-about-each-other-until-we're-blue-in-the-face. That would have been so much better than any soap ever produced. But then it died down.

And then Jun Lozada comes along. I cannot follow the live telecast of the Senate investigation that started last Friday so I had to content myself with checking the Inquirer every so often. Like everyone, I had to hold my breath fearing that Lozada might get cold feet and refuse to talk. After all, it happened with his friend Neri before. But Lozada did not disappoint.

As expected, Arroyo's allies are now pouncing on Lozada's credibility. Again, anyone willing to go against the president's hubby already has credibility points in my book. Strangely enough, the very things they're throwing at him and should supposedly make him unreliable are the things that make him more believable.

I believe Jun Lozada because he does not paint himself a saint. He admits to his own irregularities while he was serving as President of the Philippine Forest Corporation under DENR. He admits to giving out projects and deals that did not go through the proper biddings. He admits to advising Abalos (I've always hated that prick) to lower his commission because "bubukol ang $130M." He admits to flying to HK to evade the Senate investigation. He is every bit a person who gets tempted, follows his bosses (he was asked to "moderate their greed." Abalos' greed, of course, knows no moderation.), fears for his life but is now capable of telling the truth as it really is.

In a country where heroes are always lacking, the likes of Jun Lozada surface from time to time. For now it's enough to keep the rest of us afloat.

Pacific Strategies & Assessments

http://www.psagroup.com
Now it can be told.

I applied for and got a job at the abovementioned company. I’ll be a researcher/analyst which is basically a writer and I’ll be starting with them on the 16th of the month. My focus will be on Chinese affairs and after being on training and being comfortable with the job while based in Manila for about a year, I will have the option to be transferred to Shanghai. While in Manila, I will hold office at the Enterprise, Tower I, a stone’s throw away—if you throw it hard enough—from my present office.

To answer anticipated questions, here is the series of events that led to this seemingly sudden development in my life:

I think it was on my birthday when Evonne suddenly sent me a message asking how I was. You may remember Evonne as my grade school classmate whom I lost touch with then met up with again while I was in Shanghai. She then told me of an opening in their company. Because I was fairly happy with my present employment, I was a bit hesitant about applying. We agreed that I was to send my resume and take it from there.

Turned out that my resume was interesting enough for them to want to schedule me for a preliminary interview. Flashback: Remember that there was a birthday date, which went pretty well. Fast forward to two days after when the date and I first agreed to stop seeing each other. The depression led me to be excited about the job prospect. I then started to seriously pursue it. And because I now wanted it, I had to evaluate my chances of getting it. My issues were fluency in Mandarin and inadequate knowledge of Chinese politics, economics, etc. But I was on fighting stance. Pity anyone who dared get in my way.

First interview went well. I was pretty confident about the writing test before and while taking it, but had praning thoughts after. You see I had a lot of time left but being the confident prick that I was, I said, "ok I’m done," without rereading and revising until the end of the one-hour test. Naturally, I had to pay for that cockiness while I was on my way home. Thankfully, my article wasn’t really as bad as my praning mind tortured itself to believe.

Next step was an interview with the big boss and a phone conversation in Mandarin with a local Chinese. Vowing to charm the boss into hiring me, I psyched myself up to be Ms. Personality days before the interview. I think I was successful despite Murphy's Law coming into play: it was the first day of my period. The conversation in Mandarin was a different story. It went smoothly during the first three-quarters, but hit a roadblock when the voice on the other end said something long and complicated. I had it repeated a number of times but I still couldn’t understand most of what it was saying. Sensing annoyance from the voice after having repeated itself so many times, I just said yes in the end. I wanted to hit my head on the wall after that.

I was, however, comforted by the fact that the boss said he did not expect my Chinese to be on the same level as his staff in Shanghai and said the same to the voice before he gave me the phone. In effect he was telling the voice to go easy on me and that boosted my fighting spirit.

The hardest part was the waiting. They were still interviewing other candidates so I waited more than a week. I finally found out that I was in while in the hospital.

I already filed for my resignation and am scheduled to be here until the end of the month. You may have noticed an overlapping period. I must let you know that I will be relying mostly on my Superwoman abilities to do two or more things simultaneously. To let you in on the secret, it's actually an illusion. I do things so fast that normal people think I'm in two places, doing two things at the same time. It's really just the speed, just the speed.

(But the mosquito is faster.)

Approximately a year from now, do visit me in Shanghai. There are direct flights from Manila. No excuses this time.

My Dengue Experience

Some of you may have noticed my sudden and prolonged absence in cyberworld. Most of the time, such absences of mine are usually brought about by either laziness or simple lack of material to write about. Or both. This time, however, is a bit different: I had dengue fever.

It started out innocently enough. Muscle and joint pains that I thought was just me being plain lazy. And slight fever, which wasn't really all that unusual if you're me. I called in sick the next day, a Friday, to sleep it all off. Sleep is usually my cure-all, from dry and ugly skin to colds and fevers to headaches and heartaches. So I slept. But instead of feeling better, I kept feeling worse. I had a headache so painful I actually briefly entertained the thought that it might be brain cancer. Oh and dengue also went as a passing thought but you know, it's something that happens to other people... Not very unlike brain cancer, actually. By nighttime, my housemate Brian bought me a couple of Biogesics and like miracle, everything disappeared after about fifteen minutes of taking a tablet. Biogesic lang pala ang katapat.

Armed with more Biogesics, I even reported for work on Saturday morning. I promptly went home and slept after though and if not for the magical tablets, I would have been rendered absolutely dysfunctional. And because the fever returned every time the effect of the drug wore off, I asked Nuna to get me some antibiotics. In the meantime, I researched about dengue. I had all the symptoms: severe headache, fever, muscle and joint pains. No rashes, however. The articles did say that sometimes there are no rashes. That did it. Armed with my overnight stuff, Nuna and Binbin brought me to St Clare's Medical Center on Dian St.

I had a platelet count of 181. Low but still normal. The next day, we went back for another test. My platelet count had dropped to 129. Panic ensued. But only between Nuna and me. Everyone else was calm. We took a cab and transferred to Chinese General Hospital where the place at least was a bit familiar. Again, except for the two of us, nobody seemed to think that there was an emergency. And there I was thinking I was about to die any minute.

But I didn't. I survived four days in the hospital, with needles constantly drawing blood from me. These were days when the only news that was of any importance was how low my platelet count had dropped. I had to drink bottles and bottles of gatorade and was to stay away from dark colored food. And I finally understood something I always wondered about in the past.

I never could understand why people always complained about hospital food, until I had to eat it myself. I used to think of it as something akin to airplane food, which I kind of like but everyone else seemed to hate. But while food on the plane is a part of all the excitement brought about by travel and adventure, the food in the hospital represented my total helplessness, immobility  and weakness. On the first night that I was faced with the cold and tasteless meal, I teared up, looked at Nuna and said, "I feel so kawawa." Nuna bought me wanton mami from Chowking.

Although my platelet was not stable, it did not go lower than 129. The lowest while I was already in the hospital was 152 and that's still within the normal range which is 450-150. I was finally discharged on Thursday. I still feel weak. And I might have gotten thinner. And I tire easily. Plus I got my heart broken again, for the gazillionth time. But hey, I'm alive.

In Defense of Multiply

There have been petitions going around, calling for a Multiply boycott on the 18th of January, Friday. This is in light of Multiply's recent move to limit music-sharing among its users. One of those rants can be read here.

This blog is being written in response to Budi's message asking me what my stand is on the issue. I could not have been bothered at all simply because I did not feel the seemingly collective outrage that this move has elicited. But alas, my opinion was requested. So now let me tell you why I am not joining the boycott.

Eversince I can remember, Multiply has always had a note on its "upload music" page that goes like this, "By clicking upload, you certify that these files do not violate Multiply's Terms of Service and that you own all copyrights or have express permission from all copyright owners to upload them." Or something like that. In fact I can vaguely remember that at some point, Multiply stated a warning saying that Multiply has the right to take down music that did not pass rules on the copyright law. Or something like that. It might have been tweaked a bit over the years but we are all aware that Multiply was never lacking in informing its users that sharing copyrighted materials is bad. Therefore we are not to do it. That we have been naughty and did it anyway is not Multiply's fault. That Multiply was lax in implementing the rules had always been something we enjoyed and cheered for, and hoped would last forever.

And then Multiply is sued.

Is it now Multiply's fault that it has decided to be stricter?

"Oh, but Multiply lured us with its promise of free music! And now that they have the numbers to attract advertisers, they'll go back on their promise. We mean nothing to them!"

I'm only grateful that there was a time when we were able to access free copyrighted music when we really shouldn't. That's better than nothing, right? Besides, again, its promise of free music has always had a note attached to it that goes something like, "as long as its yours," and "as long as you have permission from the owner."

So there.

Stop whining.

For Evonne Chiu!!

If you're not Evonne, please ignore. :p

Evonne, I'm not sure how you can read this. Worst case scenario: use a magnifying glass. Hahahaha!

Birthday Blues

So today, the 8th day of the year 2008, I turn 28. Yep, that's because I was born in the year 1980. I am numerically destined to be lucky this year and I claim all the luck that the universe is willing to throw my way.

So far, the day has not started very well. I woke up with red splotches on my face, possibly a result of allergies. To what, I still have no idea. This is the second time in less than a month that this has happened. Not very amusing.

And then I got into a pseudo-fight on YM with a new friend. It was nothing serious but for some reason, possibly PMS, I felt really bad about it. Yes, bad enough to shed a few tears over it. And my face being red as it already is today makes it even more obvious that I cried.

And then came the call from Nuna telling me that my hard drive crashed. Or almost crashed. My thesis! My thesiiiiiis! Thankfully the laptop is working again and yes, they have made back up files of my thesis. Nothing can be as important as the thesis.

I'm halfway through the day. Enough time to make my birthday the lucky day that it should be. Oh, if you want to help, gifts always brighten up my day. Yeah, even when it's not my birthday. No? Ok.

Oh, I do have a birthday date to look forward to. A friend has generously volunteered to take me out to dinner and maybe coffee afterwards. We'll see how that will turn out.