Beauty and Miss Universe and Me



Venus Raj
Ms. Universe 4th Runner Up



Oh my, my, my… I’ve just browsed the glamshots of the Miss Universe 2011 contestants, and they were literally jaw-dropping! I was smiling the whole time I was looking at those oh-so-lovely women.

Don’t get me wrong though. When I said that my jaw dropped while I was looking at them, I didn’t mean that I was sexually attracted to them (though I once experienced imagining how lovely my female classmate’s thin lips were while we were discussing a class project, and I was ogling at her, watching her lips as she speak… creepy, eh?). I just love looking at beautiful women – their breathtaking smiles, their wonderful curves, their velvety skin. I simply find pleasure in looking at someone so beautiful, whether she was airbrushed to perfection or photoshopped to flawlessness or just simply au naturale.

As a young girl, I devote hours looking at the ladies from the magazines that my aunt brought home, and those goddess-like women in mags from my cousin in Australia. Two decades had passed and I still spend time surfing the net looking at the latest fashion or makeup while still being mesmerized by the gorgeous models. And just this morning as I stare in admiration at the Miss Universe candidates, a thought struck me once again... Why do they all look so beautiful (when I use beautiful here, I mean physically attractive) despite their countless differences? From the different color of their skin and eyes to the shape of their nose and lips to their chins and cheekbones? And so I researched on beauty, and these are some curious info that I found.

·         Beauty is NOT in the eye of the beholder. Beauty is actually all about the face, and in fact, is not nearly as subjective as we've been led to believe. Each individual has got peculiar preferences and tastes but they are based upon one ideal and are only modifications of this. This means that there is a standard from which everyone generates their standards from.

·         Beauty is NOT only skin deep. The old adage says that “beauty is just skin deep,” which means that beautiful people are no different from ugly people except for their appearance. This is the second stereotype or aphorism that evolutionary psychology has overturned. It turns out that beautiful people are genuinely different from ugly people, because they are genetically and developmentally healthier.

·         The Halo Effect. In society, attractive people tend to be more intelligent, better adjusted, and more popular. This is described as the halo effect - due to the perfection associated with angels. Research shows attractive people also have more occupational success and more dating experience than their unattractive counterparts. One theory behind this halo effect is that it is accurate -- attractive people are indeed more successful.

·         The Greeks believed on the three 'ingredients' to beauty: symmetry, proportion, and harmony. This triad of principles infused their life. They were very much attuned to beauty as an object of love and something that was to be imitated and reproduced in their lives, architecture, education and politics. They judged life by this mentality.

·         A beautiful face is not determined by the skin, despite the time and energy we devote to skin care. It is what is under the skin, the skeletal structure that makes the difference. It is the various dimensions of proportions and angles and contours and curves that work in harmony to create the concept of beauty.

Beauty therefore is an objective and quantifiable attribute of individuals, like height or weight, both of which were more or less “in the eye of the beholder.”

And I am quite lucky to have some. So were the Miss Universe candidates.

(Eggheads, no need to contradict. I am merely stating the truth within the lie. : ) Seriously, I’ve been gone a long time and I missed my blog sooo much. It was difficult to not be able to write anything despite having so much to talk about. In the past weeks, I have had so many creepers in my head, thoughts waiting to be put into words. And at last, some of them have been freed now.)

Inflation Rate

Aym bak…. Na-miss ko mag-tagalog (o Filipino). Na-miss ko din ang mag-blog. Kaya nandito ulit ako. Kahapon, na-miss ko naman ang pagiging bata dahil sa inflation rate. Kinailangan ko kasi  ipaliwanag sa aking klase (sa Argumentation and Debate) kung ano ang inflation rate, dahil malaki pala ang kinalaman nito sa pagtaas at pagbaba ng ekonomiya ng bansa (katatapos lang kasi ng SONA ni PNoy kaya may hangover pa ako). Ang akala ko kasi, kapag mababa ang dolyar at mataas ang piso, maaayos na rin ang estado ng ekonomiya. Hindi pala ganun, dahil kailangang tingnan din ang kasalukuyang inflation rate sa bansa. Tatlong beses ko nang nababanggit ang inflation rate (pang-apat na ngayon), kaya hinanap ko na ang depinisyon sa net. Sabi sa Wikipedia, “In economics, the inflation rate is a measure of inflation, the rate of increase of a price index (for example, a consumer price index). It is the percentage rate of change in price level over time. The rate of decrease in the purchasing power of money is approximately equal.” Sabi naman ng Bangko Sentral, “Inflation Rate is the rate of change in the weighted average prices of goods and services typically purchased by consumers.”

Nosebleed ba? Lalo yata nakakalito. Basta ang naintindihan ko, ang inflation rate ay ang pagbaba ng halaga ng ating pera upang makabili ng mga produkto. Halimbawa, noong bata pa ako (mga 4-5), isang sentimo lang ang cherry ball, kaya kapag nakakita ako sa bulsa ng bag ni Nanay ng dalawa o tatlong pirasong barya na may mukha ni Lapu-lapu, tatakbo na ako sa kapitbahay at bibili ng babolgam. Kapag sinusuwerte at nakahingi ng singkong bulaklak, solb na ang bibig sa pagnguya ng 5 pirasong cherry ball na tatagal ng 3 – 4 na oras (at pagkatapos ay ididikit sa buhok ng kalaro kapag wala ng tamis, o kung may tamis pa ay ididikit muna sa pader at babalikan [yuck! gawain yan ng mga kalaro namin na sina Allan potpot at Bunso]). Ngayon ay 4 na pirasong cherry balls na lang ang mabibili  sa piso, na ibig sabihin ay beyntsingko na ang isa. Therefore, ang halaga ng piso noon ay iba na sa halaga ng piso ngayon dahil nga sa inflation.

Ayon pa sa nahanap kong info sa net, P8 - $1 ang palitan noon, habang P43 - $1 ang palitan ngayon. Ang araw-araw na baon ko noong grade school at P2, noong middle school ay P5 at noong high school ay P30 (kasama na ang lunch at pambayad sa tricycle na P6 sa umaga at P6 sa hapon). Malayong-malayo na ito sa baon ng mga estudyante ko ngayon na P70 - P100 isang araw.

At dahil nga sa paguusap tungkol sa inflation rate (paulit-ulit na ‘ko, wala bang synonym ito?), naalala ko na naman ang aming simpleng buhay-bata. Ilan sa mga pagkain na nabibili namin noon o madalas na inuuwi sa amin ng Tatay ko ay nasa ibaba. Ang mga presyo nito ay nagiba-iba na din, dahil syempre matagal din ako naging bata (mula 1985-1987 marahil ang mga presyo dito). Ang presyo naman ng ilang serbisyo noon ay nasa dulo ng listahan.

Pandesal                                                          10¢

Nognog                                                            10¢

Fishball                                                            10¢

Jelly Ace (2 beyntsingko)                                12.5¢

Putoseko (3 beyntsingko)                                8¢

Nutriban                                                          25¢

Nutriban na may palaman                              35¢

ET (may libre pang laruan o pera sa loob)     25¢

Texas bubblegum                                            25¢

Tootsie Roll (maliit)                                        25¢

Expo Peanuts/Expo Coated                             25¢

Tira-tira                                                           25¢

White Rabbit (nakakain ang balat), Viva, Lipps  25¢

Chocnut                                                           25¢

Keso/Ube                                                         25¢

Pompoms                                                        50¢

Zebzeb                                                             50¢

Lechon Manok                                                 50¢

Bazooka bubblegum                                        50¢

Taho (isang malaking baso)                            P 1.00

Peewee (small)                                               P 1.00

Pinipig crunch ice cream                                P 1.00

Nips                                                                 P 1.00

Coca Cola 12 oz.                                              P 1.50

Jack and Jill Chippy, Cheese Curls                   P 2.00

Chickadees                                                      P 2.50

Tawag sa telepono                                          75¢

Pamasahe sa Jeep                                           P 1.00

Tiket sa sinehan                                              P 20.00

Marami pa rin sa mga pagkaing ito ang makikita sa mga tindahan ngayon. Ngunit katulad ng ibang kalaro namin noon, hindi pa rin lahat ng mga bata ay maaaring makabili ng pagkaing nanaisin nila. Sa kasalukuyan kasi, kaliwa't kanan ang pagtaas ng presyo ng mga bilihin. Mula pagkain, bigas, gasolina, pamasahe at marami pang iba. Habang nagmamahal ang presyo ng mga pangunahing produkto, patuloy ang pagbaba ng halaga ng piso. Kaya ang mga kawawang anak ni Juan, ni pandesal na P2 na ang isa ngayon ay hindi na natikman o matitikman pa.

Napaisip tuloy ako ng malalim. Nais ko sanang tanungin si PNoy kung may maitutulong ba ako, pero dahil alam kong hindi siya makakasagot, ginoogle ko na lang ang sagot. At ito ang aking natuklasan: Ang tanging solusyon sa implasyon ay ang pagtangkilik ng mga lokal na produkto.

Kaya naman pala mas maraming nabibili noon sa P5 baon ko, hindi pa gaanong mataas ang inflation rate. Wala pang mga ukay-ukay. Wala pang mga malls na nagbebenta ng signature clothing, signature bags, signature shoes, signature perfumes, signature chuchu… At higit sa lahat, hindi pa kasi uso ang mga “MADE IN CHINA.” Lahat na yata ng bagay dito sa Pilipinas ngayon ay made in China. Napatambling ako ng makita ko na sina Barbie at Hello Kitty ay made in China na (kelan pa naging Intsik ang blonde na si Barbie at ang pusang si HK?). Pero at least, simple lang pala ang solusyon sa problema natin. Ang tanong na lang ay: Kakayanin ba ng mga simpleng Pinoy na mamuhay na hindi nakikipagsiksikan sa ukay o bibili ng kahit anong made in China? Kakayanin ba ng mga mayayamang Pinoy na hindi bumili ng signature products?

(Eggheads, kung halos lahat ng bagay ay gawa sa China, may mabibili kayang matinong lider na made in China? Yung mataas ang kalidad ha? At dumaan sa masusing quality check kaya walang damage. Kung meron, pabili nga ng sampu. Size 9 lahat, color beige. Tawad na yung isa, may nisnis.)

FAREWELL, HARRY




courtesy of: artorg.info

 

I first met Harry Potter in 2000 at the National Bookstore in SM Fairview. It was my first year of teaching and since I got my own money, I decided to have my own teeny-weeny library in my teeny-weeny room. Seeing the vibrant cover of the Sorcerer’s Stone – a boy in round glasses with a bolt in the forehead flying in a broom - I picked it up and checked the blurb (the ‘teaser’ or sort of synopsis at the back cover of a book), and decided that it was well worth my money to belong in my precious shelf. I have no idea that it was a New York Times Bestseller, or that it was being made into a film. I am not much into contemporary/modern literature back then for I was more engrossed in Shakepeare and Poe, and I didn’t even like books about witchcraft, thinking it was one, but I wagered in the end.

Picking up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone has been my ticket to the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 ¾. Everything in it was riveting – the unusual arrival of Harry at the Durley’s doorstep, the vanishing glass at the reptile house, the arrival of the letters, the giant Hagrid, Diagon Alley, Gringotts, Hogwarts Express, the sorting, the sardonic Draco Malfoy, He-who-must-not-be-named, Quidditch, meeting Ron, rescuing Hermione from the troll, and much, much more. I remember reading the book in one night (which I’ve done in almost all of the books), oblivious that the sun had almost risen up when I finished. When Chamber of Secrets came out, I was drawn deeper into Harry’s world as I met Dobby, the mandrakes, Aragog and the basilisk. I even filed for a sick leave from work and pretended I had dysmenorrhea just to finish reading it. Finishing Books 3 to 5 had similar tales of filing for sick leaves and/or sleepless nights, transforming me into a bystander along the halls of Hogwarts.  Finishing the rest of the books (Books 6 and 7) had been easier yet woeful. Easier, since I was not a prisoner of the bundy clock anymore. I was able to reserve each book at National bookstore and became one of those who had finished it while drinking chocolate chip frappuccino at the nearest coffee shop. Woeful because of the sudden deaths of people I have learned to respect and cherish, and knowing that like death, the ending of Harry’s story is inevitable. Reading the epilogue of the last book felt like a lump in my throat had been removed, yet an empty hole in my chest formed. But I forced myself to smile, knowing that the movies are still coming. And now that they had, I still felt sad, but at least I have prepared myself for this. Yes, there was sadness, but its a sadness you feel when a loved one moves away, a feeling of knowing that once they left, you will never see them again, yet you know that they are just out there somewhere.

The HP series is indeed spellbinding. Personally, the series has unsealed a world where I want to purchase my own real estates, one at Privet Drive, one at Hogsmeade, another in Godric’s Hollow; a world I seemed to watch from the other side of the veil in the Department of Mysteries; a world where I rejoiced for all of Harry’s triumphs and where I lamented for all of his loss – from Sirius to Dumbledore to Dobby and to Lupin and Snape. (I cried whenever someone dies, not just because I adored these characters, but because I agonized with Harry.) Each time I enter Hogwarts, whether through the books or the movies, I am a child again - a Gryffindor like Harry, a Slytherin like Draco, a Hufflepuff like Cedric, a Ravenclaw like Luna.

JK Rowling is a genius that we, fans of Harry Potter, are indebted to. She had been the architect of this universe, not unlike a parallel reality where there are good – but not perfect – people like Harry and his friends Ron and Hermione, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid and Snape; where there are not-so-good people like Voldemort, Lockhart, Umbridge (the character who annoyed me the most), Bellatrix, and Pettigrew; where there is hate, jealousy, treachery, bigotry along with love, friendship, devotion, loyalty and courage. And for that, I thank her.

And as for Harry, the boy who lived, “It has been an honor knowing you.”

(Eggheads, did you know that by the time Book 7 was released, everyone I bumped into along the mall’s corridors were clutching copies in their hands? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows holds the Guinness world record for fastest selling book of fiction in 24 hours in the US, and it was reported that sales reached a rate of 15 books sold per second.)

SPEECH TO CONVINCE: Muggle Studies

I just gave my students their first quarter project on my English Elective class. I asked them to write and deliver a speech on a particular college course assigned to them, from the point of view of someone who has been presently working in the field related to their college degree. I made the speech below as an example.



The Speaker, Meenataur Diggory
Photo courtesy of: hogwartsreborn.forumotion

Professor Dumbledore, our Headmaster, had once told us that “It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.” Professor Dumbledore had always been an eccentric man, but he never failed to amaze me with the wisdom and truth behind his words. Indeed, a man is not made up of intelligence, skills, and abilities alone. We are more than that.

Good morning to all of you, young witches and wizards, and of course to the Hogwarts staff especially to our Headmistress, Professor McGonagall. It has been so long since the last time I set foot on the Great Hall. It was just after the Great War, and every Hogwarts alumni had returned to help restore the castle, which took less than three days. Now, I stand here in front all of you this morning, not to speak about the war, but to enlighten and inspire you as you plan for your future. I just didn’t know that standing on the podium where all the previous Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses had stood would make me this nervous.

Many of you may have known me, but for the sake of those muggle-borns who had just met me this morning, I would like to introduce myself. I am Meenataur Diggory, a graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, from the house of Ravenclaw. As a student, I gained twelve Outstandings in N.E.W.T. (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test) and excelled at Transfiguration. After Hogwarts, I went to Marseilles, France and studied at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for two years where I majored in Muggle Studies. After school, I went to America and became a professor at the Salem Witches’ Institute for three years. While teaching, many of my writings had been printed in various publications including Transfiguration Today, Wizarding Genealogy and Ministry of Magic Weekly, to name but a few. In addition, I had been the editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet for two years and during these times, I have authored several books including Advanced Transfiguration, Home Life and Social habits of American Muggles, The Great War and its Impact on Muggles, which was co-authored by Mrs. Hermione Granger -Weasley, head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Defensive and Offensive Magical Theory - co-authored by Mr. Harry Potter, the head of the Auror Office.

At present, I am the head of the International Magical Office of Law under the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic. It is an agency that attempts to get wizards from different countries to cooperate in wizarding actions both political and public. Our work includes keeping track of laws and policies set down by the International Confederation of Wizards and advising Britain's Minister for Magic and the Wizengamot on matters of international law in order to prevent contradictions between British magical law and its international counterpart. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement actually enforces the international policies and laws of the International Confederation of Wizards on British soil, albiet often relying on the advice of the International Magical Office of Law.

Majoring in Muggle Studies had contributed a lot to my success in the several fields I have been to – that of being a teacher, an editor, a writer and a head of the Office of Law. Muggle Studies is considered by some people to be a soft option while in school, but I personally affirm that it is important for magical people to have an understanding of the non-magical community, especially if they work closely with Muggles, such as in the Ministry of Magic. I was not very good at Runes, nor adept at duels or fighting, nor skilled at Quidditch, but I was told many times that my charm could work wonders especially in dealing with different people, so I pursued this course. Taking up Muggle studies would give you a proper viewpoint of Muggles and educate you to detest bigotry, which I believe is something that brought us the Great War. MS would also open doors for various fields that you may want to venture into after NEWT.

I would like to end my discussion this morning with another statement quoted by Professor Dumbledore, which had become an adage among Muggle Studies students: "It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be." Wizards are humans. Muggles are humans. Half-bloods are humans. What else could we be but a group of bipedaled sentient beings?


Thank you and a good day to all.

(Eggheads, do not forget that when you deliver your speeches next week, everyone must be in business attire.)

KINDS OF LEARNERS

Throughout the years, a lot of educators have devoted their time trying to understand and analyze student behavior. Some have been successful in trying to identify each kind that appears in the classroom. Being a teacher for 11 years, I have met thousands of students. But sometimes, when times are rough and the work becomes stressful, teaching becomes a burden. But then the passion comes in. Doing something you love makes you see the positive side of it.

One of the joys of being a teacher is knowing that you are trying to help others and that deep down, they do appreciate it - even if they act up and misbehave in class. Since I love PopCap's Plants vs. Zombies, I found out that many of my learners have something in common with the zombies. Let us now meet the different zombies, er, learners.

·      Yeti Zombies – the endangered species

They are the very few and exceptional learners who excel academically, perfects quizzes and exams, submits projects on time, leads group tasks efficiently, do all assigned tasks responsibly but are well-rounded (sing, dance or act well) and still find time to perform extra-curricular activities and have fun with friends. They gain the respect of their peers as well as their teachers.

·      Newspaper Zombies – members of the geeksquad

They are highly intelligent but don’t care about anything except books, exams and the teacher. They do not involve themselves in activities not related to studying and they seldom socialize. A number of them could either be hunch-backed (for bringing tons of books daily) or almost blind (for reading in dim light in the wee hours of the night).

·      Football Zombies – very persistent

They know that they do not possess the intelligence of the achievers, so they try to cover up for their weakness by submitting effort-laden projects, reciting in class a lot (keeping their hands raised all the time though they are unsure of their answer) and leading group works. They often belong to the achievers’ group and the ones who (most of the time) become successful in later life.

 

·      Jack-in-the-box Zombies – the class’ clowns

For a fellow student, the class clown is one cool guy, one who has a smart and funny response for everything that happens, one who wakes up the class when everyone is just about to snooze while the teacher mumbles in front and one who enjoys the attention when being reprimanded. For a teacher, the clown could be very bright or very poor, but one who continually disrupts the class, too busy clowning to finish his work or makes funny remarks to cover up poor performance and often comes to school unprepared.

·      Dancing Zombies – the celebrities

They are the dancers, the politicians, the title holders – the Ms. and Mr. blah blah. Most of them also do not excel academically in class, but redeem themselves through their efforts in participating in school programs such as pageants, fund-raising projects, the student government, intramurals and many others. Since they are always part of school activities, everyone including parents of grade school learners knows them.

·      Balloon Zombies – the daydreamers, drifters

Learners in this category are grouped into two. The drifters are those who seldom attend class, whose seats are always vacant. The daydreamers are those who are present in their seats, but the answers to their exams and their outputs or projects are often absent. Both were floating, floating on the river of nowhere, uncertain whether they will be admitted to the next level or will repeat their present level.

·      Bungee Zombies – the cheaters

These learners are very determined to pass… at all cost. They peek at their seatmate’s answers, they ask questions to the one in front or behind them, they have codes (tapping, sneezing, winking, clearing the throat, hand movements, foot movements, eye movements, etc.), they flip pages of their books using their feet, they write notes on a 3mm x 3mm paper which can be folded and hidden under their fingernails, they write on walls, their palms, their shoes, their socks. In short, they will risk their lives to be able to bungee-jump on everyone in the class just to get one teeny-weeny answer.

·      Zombie Bobsled Team – male and female groupings

They come in groups and do everything – as in everything – together. The girl group eats together during lunch, giggles together when a cute guy passes, whispers together, gossips together, brushes their hairs together, or goes to the restroom together. On the other hand, the boy group sniggers together, courts a girl together, struts in the school grounds together, laughs boisterously together, plays DotA together or shapes their hairs into Mohawk together. The learners in this category often make faces when grouped with other members of the class, claiming that they can only function successfully when working together. When I encounter one, I always send them to the counselor’s office together.

·      Gargantuar – the bully

Most bullies are big, much like Gargantuar. One look at him and you’ll be running away with your ‘tail between your legs.’ But not all bullies are big in size. They could be anyone, regardless of height, weight or even gender. Physical bullying* like pushing or punching seldom happens in school, but emotional (spreading rumors, ostracizing, provocation, making faces) or verbal (using foul languages, name-calling, extreme teasing) bullying is more common.

·      Digger Zombies – “emo,” blacksheep

Their name says it all: they wear their emotions on their sleeves. These learners are very pessimistic. They tend to lose control easily and blame it on all the hardships and sufferings they have in life. They want to be treated invisibly in class, but do lots of things to themselves that draws attention (they wear dark eyeliners and often has cuts in the arm). When ‘depressed’ they do not participate in class, do not follow what the teacher asked them to do (believing that it was all pointless) and just sit on their chairs, wanting the ground to swallow them whole.

I used to be a Football Zombie trying to be a Yeti Zombie, yet I ended up being a Newspaper Zombie, since I do not have extra talents. What kind of zombie are you?

(Eggheads, did you know that the initial planned name for the game Plants vs. Zombies is Lawn of the Dead, a pun on the title of the movie “Dawn of the Dead?”)

*Bullying is generally defined as repeated physical, verbal, sexual, or psychological attacks or intimidation by one individual who is perceived as being physically or psychologically stronger than another.

Rainy Days, not Mondays

Rainy days (not Mondays) always get me down…



(courtesy of mylot.com)



When I was younger, I used to love the rain. I took pleasure in looking at the little drops falling like sticks from the sky. I reveled at the black and gray clouds swirling violently above. I found pleasure in watching the trees sway fiercely with each mighty gust of the wind, as if dancing. I enjoyed gazing at the brown puddles on the streets, mesmerized at the ripples made by each raindrop as it kissed the muddy water. Whenever my mother told us not to bathe in the rain, I would go up to our room, open my hands to catch raindrops and wet my hair so I would feel like I had played under the rain. Once, when I was six, I even let my umbrella be carried away by the wind and then laughed as I run after it (it was all beaten and bruised up when I got home, so I told mother that I accidentally let go of it because of the strong winds). Each morning after a rainy night, I would visit our small farm (we had a fairly big vegetable garden and a large kangkungan) and watched the tadpoles as they grew into frogs. Rainy days were indeed a perfect moment for me then. Until we moved houses.

It was July, the middle of the rainy season, when my parents decided to transfer to our new house. I was eight and very confused. My mother and two brothers had left with most of our things, but I was left with my father while he arranged certain matters. I cannot understand then why all our furniture were being packed and taken away, why everything was a mess, why all the adults were in pandemonium. I cannot comprehend why there were men battering down our house. I did not understand anything, nor realized that my chest tightened as I watched them removed the walls and the roof, that my eyes stung as they removed the windows of our bedroom where I watched the rain pours, or the stairs where my brothers and I run up and down, or the windows in the living room where we teased Allan Potpot and his sister whenever they wanted to watch in our TV.

As I try to figure out what was happening, the rain fell. It was a downpour. I ran inside our house and look for a place to take cover from the rain, but was unsuccessful since the entire roof was gone. Everything including me was wet and the water began to rise inside, bringing with it a few of our toys and old school things. I wanted the rain to stop, stop drenching everything, stop flooding my house, stop submerging my memories, stop engulfing me. But it did not. As the rain fell, my tears fell too. I understand one thing at that moment; I have nothing to go back to.

As I grow up, I understand why we needed to move houses at that time. It has something to do with the death of my youngest brother (it was just a year and a half then). Our parents had difficulty accepting what happened which led to their many quarrels, until they decided it was time for all of us to move on. And moving houses was the best option. It was quite a sudden decision, one we were not prepared for. It was difficult to adjust to our new environment in the beginning, but we tried very, very hard. My brothers and I always talked about our old ‘adventures’ and our playmates, and we even tried to re-enact most of our old exploits with our new found ‘friends.’ It also helped that our new environment is not as crowded as the one we are used to (for we have found this sense of privacy, a time only for ourselves). And thankfully, despite the pain, there were no permanent effects of the moving as we grow older (as researchers have proven otherwise). We all probably needed a change of environment to accept what happened to my brother.

(courtesy of vi.sualize.us)

Moving houses is really traumatic. And because of the not-so-good experience I had while we were leaving our old house (imagine an eight-year-old kid watching their house being torn down in the middle of a downpour with her hair and clothes dripping to the ground), I blamed the rain. And so, whenever it rains, I feel sad and gloomy, for it brings agonizing pictures in my mind. And later in my life, when most of the childhood memories have faded, I have associated rain with bleakness and sorrow.

So, Mang Egay, Mang Dodong and Mang Falcon, I want you to know that rainy days (not Mondays) always get me down. And dearest Sun, please come out of hibernation...

(Eggheads, the rain is pouring heavily this afternoon. There might be cancellation of classes tomorrow because of the flooding, the water lilies and the unfinished flood-control projects. So hurry home before you get leptospirosis, eczema and diarrhea when you wade in floodwater.)

FALLACY: Cakes and Fathers



source: eastleigh.towntalk



Last Sunday evening, we celebrated Father’s Day at my parent’s house. Our original plan was to bring my father and mother at the mall and have dinner, but because of the heavy rains, we cancelled our ‘date.’ We opted to have a simple dinner at our house, where we brought food and some presents and celebrated with my Tatay. It was a simple dinner, but Ganda had fun taking pictures of our gifts to her Lolo Max  (Chivas and boxer shorts*) as well as the food.

Earlier in the afternoon, the three of us – Ganda, hubby and I – went to church and then to the mall and had an early dinner together where Ganda gave our gifts to hubby (boxer shorts and a PvZ shirt). Then we went out to buy cakes and kakanin. My mother asked me not to buy regular cakes anymore, but a brazo de mercedes (a creme-filled log cake made of meringue rolls filled with golden yellow custard filling), so we headed for Goldilocks. Surprisingly, when I got inside, there were no more cakes – no more log cakes, round cakes or rectangular or square cakes. All their display shelves and refs were empty, even their egg pies, cassava cakes and brownies were all gone. Panicking, I almost run and left my hubby and Ganda, and immediately went to Red Ribbon and found a horde – two long lines of people battling and grappling for the few round cakes left, almost snatching and grabbing what was left in the display shelf. I wasn’t expecting what I saw and I was really pissed of being the last in the line. I was about to complain to my hubby when they caught up with me, but then I realized there was nothing to be mad about. Those people were just like me, wanting a little something to bring home to their fathers or husbands or uncles or brothers. So I just whispered to him, “Nakakatuwa naman ang mga Pinoy, love na love ang mga Tatay nila. Inubos lahat ang cakes sa SM.” Those who have heard me smiled in confirmation.

It was funny, but almost true. So if we are to make an analysis out of this, it would be:         

         It was Father’s day.

        All the cakes in SM were gone.

        Therefore, most Filipinos love their fathers and husbands.

I know that this is another logical fallacy – the fallacy of hasty generalization which commonly involves basing a broad conclusion upon the statistics of a survey of a small group that fails to sufficiently represent the whole population (from wikipedia). Despite my fallacious conclusion, I am certain that there is still some truth to this. And I am so glad to know that there are many more lucky children out there.

We ended up ordering sanrival (four layers of cashew meringue sandwiched with French buttercream, and topped with chopped cashews) instead of brazo. It was a great choice for a great dinner on a great evening with a great dad.

(Eggheads, off you go. There will be no more seatworks for today. I have to go to the bakeshop and eat brazo.)

* As I was paying for the Chivas, here is my conversation with Ganda:

Ganda: From whom is that gift? Is it from you?

Me: No, all these gifts are from you.

Ganda: Even the wine? Lola always gets mad whenever Lolo drinks.

Me: Yes, even the wine.

Ganda: Ah, ok. You’ll just tell them it was from me, so Lola will not get mad at you for spoiling Lolo.

Me: Hmmm… Yeah.