Pink Sunday

First day of the Monsoon League today at Alabang.

What I miss most about playing Ultimate Frisbee is for one entire day, life’s shit, important or otherwise, doesn’t matter; for that day all that matters is getting that disc.

That said I also miss my team / old friends / swatting down the disc on defense –sarap! / catching it in the endzone / beer afterwards / eating afterwards / winning

Meanwhile, I did not miss the swollen knees / the burning sun / sore body / blisters / losing.

See you next week pinks. Oyoyoy!

Call me Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea and I’m gonna shoot me some Hakken-Kraks

I love Dr. Seuss, ate up all his books when I was a kid.

Stumbled onto this one online, thought I’d share. As applicable today as it was when I graduated high school.

Oh! The Places You’ll Go

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.

You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care. About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.” With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you’re too smart to go down a not-so-good street.

And you may not find any you’ll want to go down. In that case, of course, you’ll head straight out of town. It’s opener there in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen, don’t worry. Don’t stew. Just go right along. You’ll start happening too.

Oh! The Places You’ll Go!

You’ll be on your way up!
You’ll be seeing great sights!
You’ll join the high fliers who soar to high heights.

You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed. You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don’t.
Because, sometimes, you won’t.

I’m sorry to say so but, sadly, it’s true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you.

You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You’ll be left in a Lurch.

You’ll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you’ll be in a Slump.

And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And if you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite? Or go around back and sneak in from behind? Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.

The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.

No! That’s not for you!
Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying. You’ll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing. With banner flip-flapping, once more you’ll ride high! Ready for anything under the sky. Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done! There are points to be scored. There are games to be won. And the magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all. Fame! You’ll be famous as famous can be, with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

Except when they don’t. Because, sometimes, they won’t.

I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you.

All Alone!
Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot.

And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.

But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. On and on you will hike. And I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are.

You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)

Kid, you’ll move mountains!
So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So…get on your way!

Things fall down.

And people look up.

And when it rains, it pours.

–

Get up Joe.

Carlo vs. the World

“A nation reveals itself not only by the men it produces, but also by the men it honors, the men it remembers.” -John F. Kennedy

Yesterday on the treadmill I watched Carlo Caparas make a fool of himself on ANC as he defended himself regarding that scandalous, entirely undeserved National Artist Award. He, with shades and all, was flanked on either side by writer Butch Dalisay and critic Alexis Tioseco. Of the ten minutes I saw, Caparas’ defense was solely based on him being masa and the people against him being elitist academics.

*groan*

Butch Dalisay with calm diplomacy informed him in so many words, you’re just not good enough, I don’t give a flying fuck if you can draw; and Alexis gave him a spanking by telling him that the movies of previous National Artists for Film (Brocka, Bernal, etc) were hardly what you would call elitist and academic. It was so pathetic I couldn’t even watch anymore. Still, I couldn’t help but feel for the guy. He’s clearly not the villain. And why should he return the Award? It’s a 1M a year grant and a monthly stipend.

Learned that the Funeral mourning the death of the National Artist Award (I love this community– such a flair for the dramatic) was dispersed due to the rains and people had trouble getting rides, and so the entire thing fizzled out on its way to the NCCA. Yes, there’s nothing scarier than a bunch of wet artists clad in black pumping their fists in the air.

Random Friday Thoughts

-Woke up the right time (8 am) but slept in just cause it was so cold out. Sleeping in with the rain is one of the best feelings in the world, I half expected my Mom to come in and announce school was cancelled for the day.

-Light day at work for me, but not for everyone else, so I went to the gym over lunch, skipping the prawns Cristina brought to the office today, but not without snatching one on my way out for a lunch workout.

-Had Korean for lunch and a business meeting afterwards. Exciting stuff. Waited on Tracy, Monster and Mario to finish work though I was starving already by the time they were done (9 or so PM).

-Vastly prefer Twitter now over anything else. Today I got my first celebrity reply, from Armi Millare of UpDharmaDown, now I’m really a huge fan and when she replied, I got really kilig. But you know I just acted cool, didn’t use smileys or exclamation points, just periods and short sentences, no gushing. Reminded me of the time I first met Michael V, I also acted cool, chatted about the weather, the movie we were about to make; I was all pithy and interesting, but I was in truth SHITTING MY PANTS.

-Dinner was with the chums at Lorenzo’s Way in Greenbelt; crispy pata, gising-gising and bamboo rice. The crispy pata wasn’t that crispy, but the meat was tender and wonderful. I quit meat for 14 years before becoming a “flexitarian” last year, which probably explains why afterwards  I felt a little nauseous.

-Drinks afterwards at Corinne’s where we watched the latest episode of Top Chef Masters, though my interest in this season is cut in half by the absence of Padma Lakshmi, replaced instead by this Asian lady with a big head whose job it is to state the obvious in a peppy, TV hosty voice.

Goodbye Madame President

Corazon Aquino

1933-2009

Farewell. Here’s hoping that this time, we won’t soon forget.

Illustration by Anita Kunz for Time Magazine.

Twitterer

Haven’t been updating here lately cause of Twitter. I think I’ve gotten the hang of it. I like the microblogging aspect of it, the celebrity stalking, and basically just hearing what everyone is thinking of.

I follow around seventy people so far, ranging from celebrities to friends to friend/celebrities.

For one I enjoy @carlosceldran ragging on Chiz Escudero (@sayChiz). Chiz is a good sport and does engage his followers on Twitter, and his tweets range from his opinions on bills to the traffic situation on EDSA. @gangbadoy of RockEd is nicer to Chiz, Gang usually tweets about RockEd things.

@shoevagirl updates everyone on what shoes she’s wearing (apparently it’s a bet, one different pair of shoes for ninety days). @dododayao tweets in haiku, as does @rayamartin, though he’s usually angry about something.

I’m always this close to replying to one of novelist Elizabeth McCracken’s (@ElizMcCracken) tweets but I couldn’t bring myself to… hiya ako eh hehe. I’m also fanboy-stalking Armi Millare of Up Dharma Down (@capricious_and), she likes chicharon and again I’m this close to gushing about her music, but I wouldn’t want to freak her out.

@Mark_Wahlberg is medyo makulit and seems to be very into whatever he’s doing. @KevinSpacey gives updates on what he’s shooting at the moment, though it sounds like press releases. I also follow @SarahKSilverman (funny), @rainnwilson and @pennjillette. For a dose of funny I also follow Texts From Last Night, which are actual texts from people who drink-and-text (@TFLN) and @TheOnion.

Like other online communities you get as much from Twitter as what you put in. Haven’t been that into it yet but I can see the potential of communication that people have been raving about. When Michael Jackson died, during the Iran election riots, when Fed and Roddick went 18 rounds at Wimbledon– the thoughts of people all over the world flooding into my computer, and me talking back to them, was amazing.

Gone Too Soon

Michael Jackson

(1958-2009)

I’m glad to have lived in the era of Michael Jackson’s music. Rest in peace Michael, and everyone in heaven is lucky to be hearing you sing.

—-

Father’s Day ‘09

Tet grilled some burgers and made clam chowder for the three (well four) fathers in the house. My Dad, my brother, Richard (with his brand-new daughter) and myself (Hammer).

So it was us, the clan, out in the hot, humid terrace.

Paolo the eldest nephew had just gotten the all-clear from the DOH that he doesn’t have H1N1, after a sick classmate of his sipped from his frapuccino Monday. Paolo was excited just to be outside his room. Ysabella, one month old, was decked in a Daddy’s Girl jumper. Bianca, almost 12, is too dalagita to care and would rather go back upstairs to Facebook.

The adults: Ate Yvonne clicking away at her ancient camera, Kuya Billy and myself stuffing ourselves with burgers. Tet clucks and complains about her sister’s wedding dress designer.

Joshua, 13, goofed around as always, excited about his new school (DLS-Z), deciding on what name he should be called in La Salle, since he was so successful in convincing everyone at his old school that his name was Bob. G, who just turned 7, is disappointed that his real name of Guillermo or nickname Billy Boy isn’t catching on with his classmates.

At the head of the table, Dad bursts into song, something from his favorite musical Carousel, and sings to G:

Not Bill!
My boy, Bill! He’ll be tall
And as tough as a tree, will Bill
Like a tree he’ll grow
With his head held high
And his feet planted firm on the ground
And you won’t see nobody dare to try
To boss or toss him around!

Then Dad turns to Ate Yvonne, 39, and sings the next part of the song, which he used to sing to her when she was a baby:

You can have fun with a son
But you got to be a father to a girl
She mighn’t be so bad at that
A kid with ribbons in her hair!
A kind o’ neat and petite
Little tin-type of her mother!
What a pair!
I can just hear myself bragging about her!
My little girl
Pink and white
As peaches and cream is she
My little girl
Is half again as bright
As girls are meant to be!

This from a guy used to send platoons straight into the jungle. When I think about my father, I think about him singing.

Soft-shell crabs

Brillante Mendoza’s win at Cannes (Best Director for Kinatay) should be treated with nothing but pride and warmth by any decent Filipino filmmaker. Or any Filipino, for that matter. It is a monumental achievement by a hardworking director and he deserves nothing less than our respect.

So quit clawing at his knees, stop pulling him down to your level. Pick on someone as small as you.

Meanwhile Roger Ebert’s scathing review of Kinatay drew the ire of many Pinoys, as expected. One moron in particular threatened that Ebert should never visit the country because he won’t be welcome; to which Ebert says, I reviewed a movie not your country. It’s not so much how sensitive we are (what can we do, that’s who we are), it’s how we overreact. Like Ramon Revilla. Or the two year-old flamewar that happened when an American woman posted about her Jollibee experience (obviously meant for fun). Poor lady had to shut her forum down, because she kept getting messages like these.

You’d think we’d be tougher than that. Or in the case of Brillante’s local detractors, better people.