Caustic Thoughts

Random funny thoughts with a taste of Pinoy and a hint of acid.

Blog in ICU

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I’ve been asked why I bother to keep this blog. It’s obviously worth less than the time and effort it takes to maintain it. I am more likely to attract flies than rabid hordes of fans with it, although I think flies are a better option than contracting rabies.

My stubborn loyalty to my first ever crib online can probably be attributed to a flaw in my character. I can never let go of something I’ve begun even when my creation and I have become mutual parasites. But of course, being human, I prefer to paint my character in a better light so I have to create a nicer excuse for keeping this dead weight of a blog. I can always adopt the usual excuse and say that it is all for the sake of therapeutic self-expression, but I’d like to be original so I’ve deluded myself (like a virgin bride on her wedding night) into believing there’s something more.

My excuse has its roots in college. I used to be able to write in a way that would give my readers nosebleeds. Friends and teachers told me I had the potential to become one of those non-bathing, obsessive compulsive magnets of priceless (because they have no value in a pawnshop) literary distinctions, and then I graduated and reality took over.

True enough, all the jobs offered to me involved writing in some form but I was told not to write in a nosebleed-inducing kind of way because tissue paper prices were at an all time high and clients tended to balk at the idea of having to stock piles of tissue paper just to read my work.

If I insisted on writing my way, I had to become a literary writer instead. I was told though that in the Philippines, a literary writer can only hope for a comfortable life if she learned to write not just to induce nosebleeds but to induce hemorrhages, if she took more brain-killing higher studies and if she taught classes of fresh rebels who will make fun of her diction, her stone age fashion and her nose hairs for the rest of her monotonous life.

So I HAD to learn to write in a way that would not cause bloodshed of any kind, otherwise, I’d be the one shedding all sorts of body parts including my sanity for lack of financial resources. The end result is that I’ve forgotten to write in my materially unrewarding style.

This blog is an attempt to keep in touch with a small fraction of who I was as a writer before. But hell were they ever right. If crime does not pay, this pays even less.

To All the Customer Reps I’ve * Before

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I am sorry. If a head of state can use the same line and make an entire nation forget her less than sparkling trail of shit, I can say it too and be forgiven, right?

I know how difficult your job is. I once passed a call center screening but never reported for my first day of work after I got my first sample call from a fake client who sounded like the world was ending and it was all because of my inability to solve his problem. 
I know it’s never really your fault when my wireless internet connection decides to take a hike without permission. I’ve been told it’s really the fault of those tall, healthy Indian and mango trees growing around my house and the random blowing of the wind that just happens to blow more randomly on my antenna than on others. 
But for the sake of my reputation and credibility, I can’t afford to show more proof of my deteriorating sanity by shaking my fists at the wind and the trees. That’s why I indulge in my weakness of peeing horrendously when my bladder is full. I’m sorry that you are always at the receiving end. 
It doesn’t help that when you make me wait for 2-4 minutes your corporate song plays and the only lyrics I hear is, “Maghihintay ako (I’ll be waiting).” Is that some kind of hypnotic suggestion trick? I’m telling you it has the opposite effect on me. The longer I hear it the more vitriolic fluid gets stored in my bladder. Oh, and did I mention that I studied politically correct forms of mild hypnosis in college, the ones they called Marketing 101 and Counseling so I am predisposed to reject all forms of subliminal suggestions to have patience equivalent to the height of Mt. Everest. 
Don’t worry though, you’ll probably never hear from me again. Since I can’t change the fact that I live in a windy place with lots of trees, I have finally decided to ditch my wireless connection for a wired one that’s supposed to be resistant to winds and obstacles. The thing is some of my wired pals also complain about wired connections. Does that mean that I will probably have a new set of customer service representatives to * now? Oh bother. I hope they can get beyond the pitch and tone of my voice and recognize my subliminal message: I am soooo sorry.

Rising From the Ruins

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“It rained for four years, eleven months and two days… Macondo was in ruins. In the swampy streets there were the remains of furniture, animal skeletons covered with red lilies…”
—One Hundred Years of Solitude
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
At least five people have told me that they don’t like to watch the news because it’s always about depressing bad news. I’m sorry to say though that I have little choice but to write about bad news. My previous post was about the January 5 Cagayan de Oro flash flood. On January 11, another one hit the city. Since then, I had been holed up at home for five days while the rain poured and reminded us who’s boss and how easily politicians can be sent on wild hunts for donkeys to pin the blame on. 
 
The calamity is not the worst of its kind. For online workers like me though, the incident was the equivalent of not having been able to get into Noah’s ark. Days of electrical connections that are like Christmas lights (now you have lights, now you don’t) and wireless internet connections that get so easily blown out of trajectory like an emaciated dieter in a blizzard are like slow death by drowning. A few days away from the virtual world can lead to lost subscribers, customers, advertisers and gulp, those green pieces of paper we swap hotdogs and Starbucks for.
But again, I cannot— should not whine like a spoiled socialite who got an espresso instead of a macchiato by mistake. At least those were all that I lost (sniff*). Others have lost traces of their existence along with their wrecked houses. According to last Monday’s news, the number of affected families has risen to 13,000. As if to prove the veracity of the reports, more and more basketball courts (that are omnipresent fixtures in Filipino communities) have been converted to shelters. 
I should know better though than to worry too much over my fellow Kagay-anons. The top picture taken by fellow CDO Blogger Pangitster is not an image of people fleeing from the floods. It is a photo of people enjoying the flood. This, my friends, is a perfect picture of Filipino character even in the face of disaster. Hit this country with a calamity and a smile will beam right out into the world. 
I’d like to believe that this collective Filipino trait is not the result of plain simple-mindedness, or worse, idiocy. Some say jollity is simply a natural Filipino trait that defies explanation. I think though that the poverty, hardship and/or simplicity that have been forced upon us by the twin diseases of greed and corruption have rendered us immune to sorrow. Why should we sweat the big stuff when we always have so little to gain or lose? If we’d been rolling in the filth of ill-gotten wealth, we’d have descended into the pits of depression if we’d lost all that filth.
So while people did suffer at the heat (or cold) of the disaster, as emotionally captured by Titus Velez, we can only expect the Filipino Kagay-anon to rise again. 
*Photos by Pangitster of CDO Bloggers
P.S. The CDO Bloggers have been able to raise P10,000 in 48 hours through the help of bloggers, plurkers and tweeters from all over the country and the world. The money raised was used to buy goods for those affected by the flash floods. On the photo to the right are a few of the CDO Bloggers with the goods. We wish to thank all those who have helped us help those in need.
Since we are all aware though that con artists are everywhere, we would like to clarify that the official Paypal e-mail to which donations can be sent is jamgfx@gmail.com. All other requests for money made in behalf of the CDO Bloggers with other e-mail addresses indicated do not come from us.
*PBA verification code PBA09op0q8q4

Hell Hath No Fury Like Nature Scorned a.k.a. the Great CDO Flood

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I’ve been away from some of my online haunts lately. My momentum broke because the week began with a flood. Not the knee-deep flood that is the staple in expanding Philippine cities but the run for your life kind of flood that makes you wonder if the sins of mankind have yet again merited another Biblical Great Flood. This time, the story stars not a local Noah but the embattled conman or martyr (depending on your loyalties) from the people’s palace who came recently with a grin and matching relief goods.

It’s tempting to blame the calamity on the entities in power, the same ones who regularly mount circus acts that are more astounding and convoluted than the acrobatic shows of the Cirque du Soliel. Unfortunately, not even Filipino trapos (traditional politicians) can make complicated rain dances that cause floods so they can display their beneficence, pocket disaster funds and chisel their names on the concrete projects intended to prevent disasters.
Of course, the old ones still believe in conspiracy theories and they suspect that the powers that be have been affixing their signatures in invisible ink on logging clearances. The younger theorists though tend to believe more in the effects of global warming. The Cagayan de Oro flood may very well have been our first taste of the nastiness of this new-fangled environmental mess. 
I once worked in an education institution that taught its students that global warming is, beyond doubt, real. I never knew until I read about Michael Crichton’s differing stand that some experts dispute the theory of global warming. Of course, if Leonardo DiCaprio says it’s real, it must be because I am female and he said so (that was a joke). 
The sad fact is, whether global warming really causes floods or not, these floods are likely related to the price of what industrialists call development, the kind that they enjoy. The ones whose homes were underwater for a day or disappeared with the water forever probably can’t appreciate anything. 
So while my initial reaction to our two days of no electricity was to scream that I would not survive without the internet, I’m not about to complain. Many of the thousands of affected families (5000 according to one report) have had to swim for their lives, contend with washed down snakes and sleep on cold concrete for days after the flood. Who knows where they’ll be sleeping next and what they’ll be feeding their kids when the relief from those relief goods run out. 
P.S. Is it just me or is the riverside balut maker’s hut missing? Where have all the ducks gone? I suppose there will be a shortage of unborn chicks for my drinking buddies to feast on.
*Third photo by Robstroy of CDO Bloggers

*PBA verification code PBA094s174r9

Married to Google: My Blogging Tip for Domestic Bliss

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One of the most controversial statements that rocked the Pinoy blogosphere in 2008 came from socialite Malu Fernandez. For those who don’t remember or never knew about the foot in her mouth incident, this is what she had to say about blogging and bloggers:

“But blogging, aside from Perez Hilton and other big time bloggers (you know who you are) is for me a slacker job or a medium and pastime for lonely people to connect. Unless you’re in bloody Siberia or in a Gulag prison, try stepping outside your comfort zone and turn off the laptop or pc, you just might find some real live people to talk to instead of typing away in cyber space.” —Malu Fernandez in Manila Standard Today

Needless to say, her statement, name and reputation were all dragged into the virtual town square and beaten till blue. I participated gleefully in the beating but even at that time, I had no idea to what extent Fernandez had been mistaken.

A few months after the beating, I met a number of great Pinoy bloggers, the quiet, golden ones who get checks from Google every month but who are wise enough not to brandish their skills and earnings in plain sight. If they did, I bet Malu would have that foot throat deep by now.
I had no idea so many Pinoys enjoy secret success online. I wish I were one of them. This is no longer about the lure of unrestrained self-expression. I was never one to blog about the quality of my baby’s breath or my decade delayed angst to begin with. This is about finally finding something I would love to do for the rest of my waking hours without having to beg at the table or perform intricate article tricks for scraps from other blog owners.
I must admit that inspiration has driven me into blogging addiction. It had gotten so bad that at one point, it took an assortment of creepy, crawling critters that had accumulated over what they must have thought was my decomposing carcass to extricate me from the Matrix. I found out after waking up that clawed, canned goods-subsisting creatures in dreadlocks had replaced my husband and child while I was away.
But now that I’m done with nail clipping and hair grooming, I’m not about to volunteer for admission into a rehab or bloggers’ anonymous support group. I’ve decided to dive deeper into my addiction at least until after I have achieved blogging success or after the orderlies take me away.
I suspect though that much depends on how well I use the blogging tips I’ve learned last year. There were a lot of them but one lesson seems to stand out in my mind right now:
Be loyal to Google or prepare to be a whore or gigolo.
Google is like a domestic partner, the half of the relationship that holds the purse strings and the rewards that go with it. Get caught looking at the sexy competition and you will get publicly asphyxiated and stripped of your page rank and Adsense earnings till you and your blog are cold, naked and humiliated in the blogosphere public market. If one desires domestic bliss thou shall not overuse keywords, participate in traffic exchange programs and write paid posts. Google is a demanding spouse.
If, on the other hand, you take offense at Google’s lordship there is no stopping you or Google from filing for annulment. In this case, you’d better be prepared to sell yourself body and soul. Without Google, you’ll never survive with just one mistress or boy toy.
Now I have to decide if my blog will be a meek wife or a multi-talented adulteress in 2009.

Christmas Economics

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My blog is distinctly missing a Christmas greeting and it’s not because I’m Scrooge in the flesh. Despite appearances, I am a Christmas fanatic. I studied in Catholic schools where every year, traditional tableaux reminded me of whose birthday it was we were celebrating. For some strange reason, I was never chosen to play Mary, Joseph or one of the three kings. The closest I could get to a role in a school tableau was as donkey alternate.

My home situation contributed too to developing holiday eagerness. I grew up in Baguio where some houses, including our own, had chimneys. That and the cold weather gave my mom an excuse to to feed her kids the illusion that the Philippines was part of Santa’s itinerary. So I came to believe in St. Nick even if commonsense told me that Santa needed a century’s worth of Atkins or South Beach to fit through our non-western, slim, robber proof chimney flue.

So if I love Christmas so much, why don’t I have a post about it? I’ve been preoccupied with worldly, economic concerns. A few months before the holidays, a company beside my husband’s workplace announced that it would let go of all of its probationary employees. Of course, that was not pleasant news but that was still too far from home to cause me more than the expected distress at someone else’s misfortune. Two days before Christmas, my husband tells me they’ve all been put on forced leave. For daily paid workers, that’s some kind of “whoa!” That hit home.

No, we are not about to starve, but all of a sudden, the impersonal, intangible statistical figures on unemployment rates, inflation and falling stocks are singing carols at my doorstep. It may soon be my misfortune and not someone else’s. Today we lost the Christmas ham. Tomorrow we could lose the daily bacon.

That’s why Christmas almost flew past me. It’s a good thing I live in the Philippines. This is where even the dirt poor always have smiles to spare even when it’s not Christmas. This is the land of eternal smiles where worrying, especially during Christmas is out of place. It goes without saying that this is one of the countries where Christmas is most at home. No amount of economic crunching can detract from the collective happiness, the perpetual sense of family and the timelessness of His kind of love.

*Photo from Download Free Pictures

World Domination and Value Meals

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If there’s one thing in the Philippines that sprouts faster than weeds, it’s Jollibee outlets. It seems there’s always one in every corner. A little over five years ago, Cagayan de Oro only had two or three outlets around. Today, there are about ten of them with the newest having recently opened across Lourdes College. TEN! The number is enough to give you nightmares of swarms of giant yellow-orange bees out to get your pocket money and of thousands of chickens rising against chicken rights violations.

And they said the country is in economic distress. Apparently though, business must be doing great for Jollibee. We Filipinos just can’t seem to do without our value meals. A minimum wage earner will not hesitate to squander a good portion of his fleeting income for the tasty treats. That is even if Chickenjoy prices constantly threaten to send consumers into a coma and Yumburgers now resemble bald, thinning, receding hairlines. 
I must admit, I have a soft spot for Jollibee even if I like McDonalds better. I get emotional when anything Filipino rises to great heights (technically speaking, the founders seem to have strong Chinese origins, but the Jollibee characteristic taste is simply Pinoy).
I suppose it could only get better. Jollibee could be the next big tool in our bid for world domination, next to OFWs, TFC, and that infernal novelty song-infested noontime show. There are outlets sprouting outside of the Philippines. It’s only a matter of time before people from across the globe become infected with the urge to splurge on our value meals. Harharhar.
P.S. My daughter once said I look like Jollibee because of my generous rump. I wonder if that makes me qualified for mascot duty. 
*Photo taken from Sandy and Jasmine, my former students. These were my former publication staff members on their second childhood with Jollibee.

Bloggers with Bling

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I finally met a famous person. For a moment in time, I was within breathing distance of Blogie, a Mindanao blogger so exceptional that fate had decreed him worthy to in turn swap air with WordPress founder and every female blogger’s dream geek charming, Matt Mullenweg. If there is any truth to the new age, self-help, photocopied teaching available in Gullible Alley, my recent association with greatness will prompt the universe to reward me with an equally promising future in the blogosphere.


I guess the positive energies of the universe are taking longer than usual to reward me maybe because it can’t find my tiny corner in its vastness. Either that or the universe doesn’t know enough SEO to give me a lift. Nonetheless, the meeting with Blogie did not disappoint. Surprisingly though, the greatest insight I got from it was not the fact that earning through blogging is more difficult than curing hernia through positive thinking. It was the realization that Cagayan de Oro (CDO) may be missing an identity.


Apparently, there is a big chance that CDO will host next year’s Mindanao Bloggers’ Summit. One requirement is a standard logo for CDO bloggers. We’ve got a fabulous green logo actually but it seems we don’t have the equivalent of Gen San’s tuna and Davao’s eagle on it. Mistress of WordPress themes, ChiQ Montes mentioned that it could be because CDO lacks an identity.



As a Cebuana born in Baguio, ChiQ’s observation seemed accurate to me. My first few years in CDO did not give me a strong sensation of the city’s uniqueness like the scent of Baguio’s pine and the feel of Cebu’s queenship did.



It was only after the meeting concluded that I remembered that CDO did have an identity. Long before it became an adventure capital, long before Emano attached 3Bs to its name (Bloom, Blossom, Boom?), long before it became popular as an open entry port, it was (still is?) the City of Golden Friendship. It is uncertain whether this second name is an intended or an accidental reference to its name, Cagayan de Oro which has a number of translations depending on who you’re asking. It may roughly mean river of gold/ to rake the soil for rocks or gold ore.



Indeed before the city’s hospitality bore a resemblance to the value of gold, CDO’s river sputtered gold. I remember how a former city counselor, who was once my host before I decided to finally live in the city, took gold from the river and fashioned it into two rings, one for him and one for his Visayan bride. When opportunity gave him the chance to leave for an adventure abroad, he gave it up to return to his golden city and his golden friendships.



This is a golden city, a literal and figurative modern El Dorado at the mouth of Mindanao. But because I’m not a creative designer I wouldn’t know how to fit that into a logo. Besides, the gold concept can’t help but bring to my mind CDO bloggers sporting bling bling in gold which is just plain freaky.

*Photo credits to ChiQ, Butiti and that PJoe’s waiter

All Quiet in the South-Eastern Front

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It’s that time of year when crime rates are at their lowest, when streets enjoy light traffic and when the MILF declares ceasefires without fail. I’m not talking about Christmas. I’m talking about Pacquiao bouts. This last one with Dela Hoya has done all these plus it has made every enterprising Filipino with a cable connection richer by a few hundreds. If Pacquiao wants to help maintain peace here in the south and encourage some small measure of economic health, he could risk his life in the ring more often. That would make him a true heroic martyr worthy of a tin shrine next to Bonifacio’s desecrated one.

For those of us who are too miserly to get a cable connection, the benefits of Pacquiao bouts take longer to happen. So while the rest of the neighborhood ooh and aah in real time, we misers have to wait for three hours for a delayed telecast that’s generously peppered with five minute advertisements for every three minute round. Some of my housemates retreat with earplugs to the farthest corners of the house to escape well-meaning neighbors intent on spreading the news of the outcome. 
But it is impossible not to find out who the victor is before the delayed show. After years of hearing the neighbors howl, weep and recite expletives, it’s easy for every late viewer to develop the skill of determining Pacquiao fight outcomes based on human emitted sounds alone. My father-in-law however has a way of justifying not getting cable for the sake of watching Pacman destroy someone else’s face. He doesn’t mind watching delayed bouts with prior knowledge of the outcome because it’s watching the process of slugging that counts. 
In any case, delayed or not, I enjoy Pacman days because everyone’s behaved down here. Pacman brings peace like no other living creature can.
Photo Credit: cooldude

Marky Cielo is Dead

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I was never a huge fan of most local showbiz personalities but I like some of them. One of those that stood out for me was Marky Cielo. I liked this guy from the start because he wore his local origins like a badge of honor. I originally came from Baguio City and it was such a proud moment for me to see someone in showbiz who was not ashamed of being an Igorot and who wore the local colors like natural skin and without shame.

Marky Cielo died yesterday amidst all the hubub and rejoicing over Pacquiao’s win. Indeed it was a pain to watch that local showbiz talk show where the hosts had to vascillate between gravity and glee in the light of both events.

I don’t know how he died but he might have died in his sleep. According to initial reports his mom went into his room and found him dead. Some sources suspect that the young actor may have gone the same way as Rico Yan. As of today though, Marky’s family is awaiting the official medical assessment. He was only twenty.

It is always a pity when young people die but it is even more of a tragedy when the young ones who die are the ones gifted with talent, humility, integrity and unaffected Pinoy pride.

Why do the good ones have to go early?

Photo Credit: kamza08