Exploring Candidates' Websites Series :The Official Website of Mar Roxas

The Offical Website of Mar Roxas

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Hey, I'm not campaigning for Mar Roxas, or for anyone in particular. That is not my style. But what I am is a curious, dubious website aficionado. So today, I wondered, what does a politician's website look like? After all, with the inevitable social networking explosion these days, I'm very sure that candidates' PR departments will maximize the relatively cost-efficient avenues provided by the internet.

Truthfully, I searched "Manny Villar" first. Error there. Mar Roxas' website loaded in .2 seconds (is that a sign?). Then I realized my personal faux pas: Roxas was running for VP, not president. In my mind, he was still a presidentiable (regrets, Korina?). Anyways, the website was waiting for me to be explored explore it.

The site was fairly easy to navigate. It's actually student-friendly, with its down-to-earth, highly readable blogs (by Roxas himself), discussion of issues on education, "murang gamot", agriculture, etc. There are many interesting tidbits for the clueless like me: that Roxas is the "father of call centers and BPO industry", that he was voted senator by 20 million Filipinos (a record, the site says), and that he has 24,586 Facebook fans (as of 2:04pm today), and that he eats leche flan with rice (hmm, shades of the Obamas and their cheeseburger binges).

I can fathom what Roxas' web press team is trying to do: make Roxas a poster boy for new politics, as opposed to the "trapo" stigma that many of his elders and contemporaries are projecting. All of Roxas' pictures on the site show a smiling, laid-back guy, with a good number featuring wife Korina, the two of them in frolicking pictures of marital bliss. The site is littered with tweets of support, testimonials that sing his praises. Even the blue Atenista color helps give him an air of respectability, prestige, and nobility, which aren't exactly the nouns you'd associate with the masses. For some reason, the "Mr. Palengke" monicker is absent from the site, which for me is a smart move, as the website's target audience aren't really the market-going public.

I give the marroxas site a two-thumbs up. Props to the web design team for keeping it simple, compact, and functional. Will Mr. Roxas' political career be just as simple, compact and functional? Wait till the ballots are scanned.

P.S. Just sharing (proudly, ahem) that I was a Gerry Roxas Leadership awardee in 1987...

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NEW YEAR'S AT POTTER'S RIDGE-TAGAYTAY

I like my New Year's quiet and foggy, not loud and smoggy. So the family and I trooped to Tagaytay on the 31st, the sound of early bursts of firecrackers fading out as we exited Sucat.

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What I wasn't expecting was the icy air blowing in from two huge picture windows of our suite room. Spectacular views from both windows (one was a carabao indulging on grass) kept us entertained for hours until the fireworks started to light up the horizon.

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The best part was Mama's unbridled joy at the cool wind on her face, the sumptuous pancakes and sausage-bacon breakfast and the incessant teasing from all of us. It's a shame that her eyesight isn't too keen anymore, so she missed a lot of the heart-stopping scenery. But she was having a really happy new year, and that's all that matters.

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(Note: Mama has Parkinson's Disease, which, doctors believe developed from depression. It has affected her mobility, her eyesight, and in severe bouts of nervous tension and panic--her speech. She is our family's Baby, so we do everything in our power to make her happy and comfortable.)

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WE DON'T NEED ANOTHER READING CURRICULUM

For the second time in two years, Veritas Parochial School hosted The Gathering 2, an overnight celebration of discussing books, meeting fellow book lovers, and listening to music. The school's book clubs have decided to do this every first Friday night of December. Last year it was all about Twilight. This year, it was all about 10+ books--a veritable explosion of pages! Students discussed George Orwell's Animal Farm and 1984, and Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games,among others, to listeners in their PJs, lounging on sleeping bags.

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Podcasts of Libba Bray's A Great and Terrible Beauty and Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book were broadcast. Top discussants won prizes and enthusiastic applause.

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Unbeknownst to the sleeping book lovers, I spent the night/early morning poring over reader's journals submitted to me by senior high schoolers who opted out of the book talk. The journals were a revelation, for like most journals, they chronicle the reading process meticulously, but unlike most journals, they were bursting in color, favorite passages, even a movie stills collage. Creativity to the fullest!

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All this leads me to wonder why the Department of Education can't see what's right in front of them: young people thumbing across the pages of books, discussing plot and character, making book trailers, making scrapbooks--generally enjoying the reading process. If you were a parent perusing the pages of the English curriculum, with all the macro-skills blah and the Understanding By Design-BS, you'd be afraid for your child. Could he really master all 95 reading subskills? Will not spotting the main idea outright jeopardize his job-acceptance chances? Will his teacher penalize him for not buying 3 textbooks and 3 workbooks in Language, Reading and Speech, respectively?

In my 17 years as English teacher, I can now safely assure all worried parents that the Philippine English curriculum does not decide the fate of their children. Former DepEd Undersecretary Juan Miguel Luz, speaking to Diocese of Paranaque educators in June 2009, cites an international study claiming that a literacy-rich home environment is actually the BEST INDICATOR of student success:

100 books in the house
1 computer in the house
the child's own study desk in the house

(Source: TIMSS 1998, 2003)

And by student success, we don't just look at reading, but maths and sciences as well.

In Finland, a nation that consistently tops international examinations, the teachers are not boxed in by a national curriculum; they design their lessons with their students and make adjustments when necessary. Teachers and students practice equity in the learning process.

Bottomline: invest in books, a working personal computer, internet access, a study desk, and TIME with children as they read and ask questions.

As for me and the Veritas community, we just simply enjoy books, and make them available to all. We have future projects that will put 3 brand new non-academic books in every high schooler's hands for him to keep.

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I don't need an international study to tell me the overflowing benefits of reading for my students.

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I just listen to their book talks and browse their journals, and I'm happy.

TOILET TALK

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As principal of a school with +/-500 population, I don’t get to mince words when it comes to reminding students to behave. So general assembly Mondays are always freaky, both for the guilt-ridden objects of my so-called ire, and for me. Sometimes, to keep a school running, I just had to be less than cool when I remind people about haircuts and unreturned reply slips. Discipline is a bitter pill to swallow, especially for young people who are simply testing the limits of teachers’ patience. Principalship 101 posits that I should step in when the teachers’ hairs are all frizzy and their freshly-manicured nails are all ragged, to do damage control.

So instead of giving the usual howdydo pep talk at the start of the school year 2008-2009, I decided to give a brief but succinct lecture on how to use the school’s spankin’ new toilets.

Why is that so vital? Because this is a school that has gone TWO DECADES WITHOUT RUNNING WATER AND FLUSH. So in case the students have trouble remembering what it’s like to swish-swish the toilet after every use, I had to give some pointers:

1. Flush, flush, flush, but don’t push the knob of the water closet knob to death. One gentle push is all it takes to bring down the “enemy.”

2. Don’t stuff the bowl with toilet paper and other inorganic solids (in the previous year our janitors found a ball of yarn, and some scratch papers!). Clogged toilets are the other enemy.

3. Don’t stand on the toilet seat. If it were made to be stood on, then it would have been shaped like your shoes.

There were a few snickers here and there as I intoned those reminders. I understand. But what really got them pumping their fists in the air and hollering like rallyists was when I said:

“We’ve got water from the faucets this year. Hallelujah!”

So I decided to push my luck. I went on to remind them about the newly painted lockers. I warned them that if their lockers did not remain pristine and pearly-grey by the end of the school year, there will be blood (okay, not that graphic). I pointed out that the canteen–er–cafeteria is now a queueing place, and the food is not all fried. So take heed, I said.

Then I had an inspiration. I said something like, “The changes are not just in the facilities. We expect that there will be changes in you as well, since you’re all one grade level older. You should be more mature now, more responsible. That way, the changes are really relevant.”

Do I hear applause? Is that a slap in the back? Hardly. It was a somber student body that looked back at me as I ended my little speech. I hope it was a look of reflection and realization: yeah, we’re all one grade level higher. That must mean something.

For us teachers and administrators, our words of wisdom can spell the difference between a mediocre performance and a truly stellar one. Section advisers who can level with students sans the threats and clenched fists fare better, eliciting more attention and long-term respect. As a section adviser in previous years, I would have an outline of what I want to say if I know I am about to give a sermon. I practice my piece before I deliver it. I want maximum impact. So with my little toilet talk that first hour of the school opening, I tested if indeed I made an impact: yes, thankfully, all the toilets were clean, happy places at the end of the day.

(reposted from Go Teacher Go blog, June 11,2008)

GLOBE TATTOO, I DON'T HEART YOU

Globe Tattoo, I don't heart you.
Ok, you're fast. You're very fast. Faster than Smart? I know not.
I've had you for 14 days and 14 nights, and I was satisfied.
But today I bought a prepaid card (300), dialed 223, as instructed.
But did you respond? No.
I called you (Ok I called 730-1000), but you weren't much help.
You got all my numbers, promising to call.
Did you? No.
I waited.
Waited (I gorged on chocolate while I waited.).
My brother got into the act, calling you. Calling you spiteful names.
No response.
I was heartbroken. How could I access facebook without you?
Dusk arrived. Dinner passed.
Still no call.
Until,
Until,
Until...it dawned on me: a bright idea.
(How could I be so stupid?)
I hurriedly called you (223) again from my other phone.
(I'm glad I kept the other one).
It worked!
And then I shared it all with you.
Always back to you.

But you should know,
the fact that I'm SMARTer than you,
doesn't mean you can just lie back
and ignore your deficiencies.
For next time,
I'm not going through the pain again.
I'm not going about in circles.
You'd better clean up your act,
clear up your signals,

OR I'M GETTING YOUR TATTOO OFF OF MY BACK.

MUGaling! MUGaling! MUGaling!

Two of the best gifts I received this Christmas are mugs. Seriously. While a lot of Pinoys may wrinkle their noses at the sight of their Nth mug from underneath the Christmas tree, I, on the other hand, am and will always be a grateful, ecstatic receipient of that ceramic coffee-cradling wonder.

Because people have generously gifted me with mugs throughout the years, I have never felt the urge to buy one for myself. For that, I thank my benefactors! And so, in the spirit of Yuletide joy, where a cuppa cappuccino or scalding hot chocolate is second only to family, I'm featuring my TOP 5 FAVORITE MUGS:

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This is a gift from my friend and colleague Dong Lapira. It's one of the many cool designer mugs from Multiple Choice.

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This mug is a survivor. I once had half a dozen of these, from an old Nescafe grocery store promo. This much-used, much-loved mug is perfect for those tiny sips of coffee while soaking in sitcoms like "Will and Grace" and "How I Met Your Mother."

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Ok, I admit I bought this one for myself. I wanted a maroon mug (Go Maroons!), but the UP Shopping Center had none on stock. This is the one I use in school, promptly at 3pm every afternoon.

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Peanuts! I love Peanuts! This classic cup has never been used for drinking, at least not by me. I once used it as a pencil holder, and now, it just sits in our dining room glass case with the rest of the breakables.

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Teachers Mine, Arra and Tine gave me this one for Christmas. When I opened the bag, I said to myself, "Finally!", for I've given so many Starbucks mugs in the past, and have never really received one. The classic, clean design of this one is a testament to my everlasting love affair with Caramel Macchiato.

Edit: This just in! (Or I just unwrapped this):

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Though obviously this is not a 600-year-old mug, it represents a much-revered Vincentian institution. I know that whenever I use this, it would feel like drinking from a holy cup. :)

HELP COUSIN PATTY. BUY VINTAGE LPs

LPs, vinyl, plaka (Tagalog). I have about 200 of those, inherited from my septuagenarian relatives, Auntie Charito and Uncle Sito who have since discovered the iPod and liked it. With those LPs came a Technics Quartz SL5300 record player that conked out last year when a stuffed Pooh fell on its arm in the middle of "Flashdance" (Imagine the scratchy explosive sound that blasted through my speakers!). So unless I go to Raon or have a vintage technician rehabilitate the thing, the LPs are just going to have to gather dust in my room.

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All the portable music players with their bottomless playlists cannot, in my archaic opinion, replace the vicarious thrill of sitting by a record player, sans remote, lifting the needle with care, counting the rings to estimate the track of my choice, replacing record after record until there's a pile of vinyl discs surrounding me on the floor.

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But some thrills have to come to an end. I am selling the LPs, and the Technics player to anyone out there who have a better means of preserving and enjoying these treasures. The proceeds of the sale will go to the fund for my cousin Patty Rosal, who has been confined in the hospital for two months due to aneurysm. Half that time she was in the ICU, near death, holding on to life with the help of prayers, machines, tubes, medicines and TLC. As I post this, she's still barely conscious and totally dependent on others (what's sad is she's only 41), and still in need of funds to pay the hospital bills and sustain her medication.

Please leave a comment with your name and contact number if you're interested to help and buy some records, preferably all of them.

Click this to view the titles. Prices are negotiable especially if you buy in bulk:
http://seroquella.multiply.com/journal/item/1/LONG_PLAYING_RECORDS_INVENTORY

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ENTERTAIN OR DIE: THE HUNGER GAMES REVIEW

Imagine fighting to the death just so your loved ones could eat. We who have food on our table take it for granted, but not Katniss Everdeen, 16-year-old resident of District 12 in the country of Panem, a make-believe world where hunger, poverty and deprivation are everyday occurrences. The Capitol, Panem's Ruling District, has decreed that the 12 districts, as an indelible, chilling reminder of a quelled rebellion by District 13 against the Big C, should send one boy and one girl, aged 12-18, every year, to compete in The Hunger Games, a live action TV reality show broadcast throughout Panem. But The Hunger Games are no "Survivor", "Amazing Race", or "Wipeout." Competitors aren't just eliminated, they are murdered. The victor, the last man (or woman) standing, gets the ultimate prize: food for his/her district for one year.

I just described the Games. Wait till you meet the characters. Katniss, a coal miner's daughter, volunteered to compete in her 12-year-old sister's place. Her male counterpart is Peeta Mellark, a baker's son, who confesses on National TV that he's had a crush on Katniss since they were five. Media hype or true love? That's for the rabid televiewers to decide, and they seem to love the idea of star-crossed lovers with only one, or none, surviving in the finale. Katniss and Peeta, along with 22 other contenders, battle natural and artificial disasters, and each other, but in the end, the real enemy, The Capitol, becomes the target of social unrest once again. What happens next is in book 2 of the trilogy, Catching Fire.

As adventure stories go, this belongs to the family of "dystopian" literature where an alternate world is viewed as dark and depressing, where the characters are forced to compromise their very human nature due to their dire circumstances. William Golding's classic "Lord of the Flies" is an example, where boy scouts stranded in an island gradually lose their civility in the battle for jungle supremacy. Collins wrote a gem of a young adult novel, balancing bittersweet romance with often brutal cunning. Whether she intended it or not, The Hunger Games is a commentary on a materialistic society that preys on young people, making them crave, claw, and clamor, and in the process, lose their dignity and humanity.

Like the garden variety reality shows that smell suspiciously scripted,The Hunger Games has its contrived moments, beginning from the lottery that brought about Peeta and Prim's names, and Katniss' volunteerism. Put that aside, the book is a beautifully-written, character-intensive, techno-adventure novel teeming with love for family and simple joys of living. Older teens (15-19) will surely like it, and jump right into the sequel.

Clueless Ramen Girl Dies

RIP Brittany Murphy
People remember her as Alicia Silverstone's character's sidekick and rival for the affections of the guy played by Paul Rudd in Clueless. I saw her last in Ramen Girl, a pretty little TV movie about an American who follows her boyfriend to Japan, only to get dumped there. She's not red carpet huge, but she's well-loved, as i take it from the Associated Press report.Expect movie marathons in tribute to the sunny actress.

WHEEEE! FOR GLEE

I HATED HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL. ALL THREE OF THEM. High schoolers bursting into song aren't exactly endearing to me, or realistic, since I deal with high schoolers everyday and believe me, they aren't always up for pep squad or choir duty.

A HIGH SCHOOL GLEE CLUB ("NEW DIRECTIONS") BURSTING INTO SONG ON TV, AT LEAST THRICE EACH EPISODE IS SOMETHING ELSE. It is something else,entirely: funny, poignant, preposterous, sarcastic, campy, classy, witty, cheesy--you can't pigeonhole what the first 13 episodes of GLEE have been. You just can't stop with the pilot and assume that you've heard one song, you've heard them all. Instead, you watch on and sing, breathe, quip, cry, snicker with the characters.You hold your breath to find out who won the Rachel vs. Kurt diva sing-off using "Defying Gravity" as the contest piece. You cringe along with Teacher Will as he sings "Don't Stand So Close to Me" to an infatuated student, Rachel Berry. You get goosebumps as a guest hearing-impaired glee club signs John Lennon's "Imagine." So many moment, so little time. I AM SO LOVING THIS SERIES, it hurts that there won't be a 14th episode until April 2010.

The ensemble cast is just magic. Except for Jesalyn Gilsig (Spanish teacher Will's shrewish, duplicitous wife) whom I've seen in Boston Public, CSI:NY and Nip/Tuck, the rest of the cast are unfamiliar to me. Every single actor, from the regular leads (Teachers Will and Sue, Sophomore diva Rachel, singing quarterback Finn), to the recurring characters (Coach Tanaka, Guidance Counselor Emma, the other diva Kurt)carries his/her designated stereotype with gallant humor. Of course, the razor-sharply-worded script can be accredited for the actors' spot-on performances. While all the episodes teem with heart and soul, the penultimate "Mattress" episode rocked my Christmas socks off with the glee club's bouncy version of Van Halen's "Jump", revelations of each character's inner turmoils, and a very nasty breakup.

Perhaps Glee's unique charm lies in its unabashed championing of misfits and underdogs. The very premise of the show, that high school's pariahs can overcome their real and imagined handicaps and sing their way to success, may be the stuff of feel-good fantasy, but it is also an affirmation of what education ought to be: a venue where strengths are harnessed, talents are nurtured, and disappointments are dealt with courageously. Schools ought to be a home for diversity and tolerance, not a factory churning out model spare parts. Much props should go out to Ryan Murphy, the show's creator. Glee is a seminal television masterpiece that should delight a broad spectrum of audiences. Episode 13 airs locally (Jack TV, Mondays at 8; ETC, Tuesdays at 10 and Sundays at 8pm) in a week. Then it's 4 months of marathons. Pop the corn!

PREDICATES

am back

was busy

miss ya'll

got blog

(www.xanga.com/millette_espiritu)

am back

here

GRADING THE SONA

Bravo! Excellent speech, Madame President! The iron will apparent in your voice reinforced your continued support for value-added tax. Every few paragraphs were punctuated by "thank you." Brilliant touch. Give gratitude where gratitude is due. You brought along live specimens of progress: lady welders from Hanjin, a mayor in minimalist tribal costume, a budding (at 56 years old) farming magnatem as well as four wide screens for the audience's viewing pleasure. If all college lectures were like your SONA, halls and auditoriums will be packed with awestruck undergraduates poised to write those ubiquitous reaction papers.

Props to you, Madame President. You dissed popularity ratings, choosing to be the kind of unpopular president who just does her job (Ambassador Kenney even came to your defense, pointing out that President Bush lacked "pogi points" himself these days.). Then you proceeded to rattle off statistics that meant nothing to me, like high school math meant nothing to me in my days of teenage crisis. You more or less codified the Philippine situation in terms of number of RORO ports and provincial airports you opened during your term. I'm sure these things impacted the lives of many, but I have yet to talk to someone who equates the price of Gardenia bread with RORO operations.

It was a stupendous speech, Madame President. But I need your help explaining this to my students tomorrow. You see, I have the notorious habit of injecting social issues into my Literature classes, and tomorrow, I have a class on Medieval literature--The Canterbury Tales, in particular. It's a work that clearly delineates social classes, and your SONA will fit in perfectly, don't you think? I need your advice: Do i tell my students that nothing much has changed in the last 700 years? That hard work will get you where you want to go in life, but be prepared to die of exhaustion and frustration in the process? Should I divulge the idea of corruption, as in The Friar's and The Summoner's Tales, or should I delete it from my lesson plan?

You see, Madame President, I don't think of your SONA as all lies. I truly believe that our country, though in economic straits like the rest of the world (except Switzerland, I reckon), is actually making strides in practically all fronts: business, agriculture, education, health, technology. But you may have been a teensy bit selective in your data.Never mind the surveys and polls that persist to drag you and your cabunet in the muck. I am more concerned with the baby steps we are taking to ensure the progress you've been talking about. I see it this way: the country wants to move forward a hundred steps, but "kurakot" pushed it back 98 steps. That leap we want to make as a country is hampered by immorality, lack of transparency, and patronage, so all we can do is skip. I would have appreciated statistics that dealt with how much we lose to corruption. But of course your speech writer may have forgotten to encode that one.

Thank you, Madame President for your SONA. Sorry if I can't give you a grade for your efforts. There is no grading system, no rubric, to measure a speech that says so much, but achieves very little.

lexaprone

SENTI SA CENTENNIAL

Funny how the UP Centennial makes me think not of the beehive that was Palma Hall, nor the cold white floor of the Faculty Center where my friend Ria and I used to sit, waiting for an audience with one of our professors. All my happy sappy memories are of Kalayaan dorm, that haven for freshmen plucked from every region of the country you can think of. I remember bitching about the food, and gagging at stories about the fish eating Dona Paz victims, and us eating the fish. I remember filling my dorm room walls with magazine cutouts of my males of the month (yet I don't remember who they are now). I remember Ely Buendia, pre-Eraserheads, sitting alone in the cafeteria, and teaming up with the St. Scho girls for the all-freshmen volleyball team. I remember swapping Loveswepts and Candelight romances with Shy and Rahnee, boarding Recto-bound jeepneys to get to second-hand book stalls, which would promptly fold up at the hint of a raid.I remember waking up one morning to a loud radio broadcast of a coup d' etat, which, until that day, I only read about in history books. I was on the first floor--Room 105--and the whole dorm was abuzz with coup news. Our first concern was, "May pasok kaya?" We then gathered that there were government troops storming Philcoa, a jeepride away from Kalayaan. Someone was warning us: "If you have subversive materials, tear them up or hide them!" I thought about my Loveswepts, dismissing them as non-subversive. I remember our Residence Assistant advising us to stay inside the dorm, but somehow, Rahnee and I were able to slip out to the Shopping Center at the back of Kalayaan. We were hoarding supplies--peanut cakes, sanitary napkins, Coke-in-cans. There was no telling how long we were going to be holed up in the dorm. When we got back, my daddy was there, waiting to bring me home. A group of dormers gathered around us as we got ready to leave. But the dorm admin did not allow anyone to leave unless parents themseves came to fetch them. My dad was the first one there, and I was the first to leave.I hated leaving my friends behind. Daddy explained that it would be irresponsible for him to take them without the knowledge of their parents. I waved goodbye, guilty and bothered. I was rather amused by his mode of transportation: a white cargo vehicle with the single word PRESS in big bold red letters, PRESS as in PRINTING PRESS, not Inquirer or anything. But I figured those flashing red letters did the trick. We were not bothered by anyone from any armored personnel carrier as we sped our way home.
I spent four years in UP, but that one semester in Kalayaan--my first 6 months alone in a big school--is the most vivid. After that sem, I was able to brave the endless lines of registration, my first great heartbreak, my 2.75 in Math.

Happy Centennial, UP kong mahal!

REMOTE TVictim # 4: Cold Case, Wednesdays at 10pm, aired at C/S Channel

This blog series is my take on various TV shows that I don't watch on a regular basis. I review just one episode, and will most likely not do so based on context or series "mythology." What you are about to read is rather shortsighted, often biased, and probably loopy. Please do not be offended if I diss your all-time favorite TV show at one point, or if I adore the ones you hate.

One of the things that draws me to a TV show or movie is the soundtrack. Back in the old cassette tape days, I would splurge my saved allowance, and later, my salary, on soundtracks of the movies I liked. I still have the warbly tapes of Lethal Weapon 1 & 2, Top Gun, Vision Quest, My Girl, A League of their Own...(rummages through the the tapes in the box)...aha! Jesus Chrust, Superstar, Grease, and Big Themes from the Big Films (Superman, Star Wars, E.T....). A couple of years ago, I lovingly presented a former student and friend, Tin-Tin, with what should now be a vintage cassete tape of the Pretty in Pink soundtrack (Tin, I hope, wherever you are, you're still grooving to OMD's If You Leave).

I sat down to watch Cold Case because I was drawn to the grunge music coming off the screen, accompanying four high school students in detention (Later that night, I dug into the box of cassettes once more, this time, finding Pearl Jam's Ten and Nirvana's Never Mind. I slept at 2am).

I smelled dreary teen spirit coming, and I was curious. After all, that was what attracted me to grunge circa 1993-1996ish. I was a wee bit past my teens, but I was still--umm--finding myself--career-wise, I was a copywriter for an ad agency in '93, and raspy guitar riffs and throaty vocals were in the air. I resisted the urge to wear plaid. But I couldn't resist the music.

Back to Cold Case: Trevor Dawson, the center of the story, and the victim, comes across in flashbacks as a soulful, depressed young man, secretly going out with Dawn Hill, a preppy African-American. Two other miscreants whose names I forget are part of this conspiracy to kill dawn's stepfather for molesting her. In the end, stepdad gets to live, and Trevor is dead. the case was marked suicide for 14 years, until new evidence--half of a note that casts doubts on the suicide angle--emerges, and the cold case is hot again. It turns out that Trevor and the other guy were seriously arguing about backing out of the kill-stepdad plot--on the rooftop of the school. The other guy went all angsty, wanting to kill himself for being worthless, and Trevor tried to reason with him. On the precipice, the two struggle, and it was Trevor who plunged to his death. Involuntary manslaughter for the other guy, 14 years after the incident.

My heart goes out to Trevor, so caught up in raw, teenage feelings of loss (Kurt Cobain just died), first love, disillusionment, and minutes before his death--hope. "I just want to love somebody. I just want--life things", he says passionately to the other guy who was clearly losing it. the other four teens, and the adults they've become 14 years later, are some of the best ensemble guest actors I've seen on TV. The detectives who reopened the case, or the actors who played them, may have their names on the opening credits, but I don't even remember them now, much less the investigative process they followed to solve the mystery. I recall watching two other episodes of the show, months back, and the same formula was at work. The guest actors, particularly the murder victims whose fates rotted away in sterile boxes in some stockroom in the police department, carried the show and held it aloft.

The soundtrack, as I first pointed out, was an eerie commentary on the decade in which the events took place: the mid-90's. Smashing Pumpkins' "Today" played in the background while Trevor and Dawn were pouring their hearts out over the phone. STP's "Vasoline" blared in the scene where the two boys break into Dawn's house. Smashing Pumpkins again--"Landslide" serenaded Dawn and the other girl in detention, as they laid flowers on the spot where Trevor died. The music, the story, the characters simply melded together and left me with a lingering refrain.

MY KIND OF BIRTHDAY

My birthday bash lasted for two days. May 11th, the actual birthday was pretty quiet, since most of my friends were mothers celebrating Mother's Day. Can't compete with that! My brother cooked me a mean carbonara dish and unbelievably juicy chicken barbecue. After lunch, I went ahead and gave myself a present: registration and first post in the twilight lexicon. For the befuddled, let me explain: The Twilight Lexicon site (www.twilightlexicon.com) is the top-rating, long-standing fansite dedicated to all things Twilight, plus its sequels, New Moon and Eclipse, and other works by Stephenie Meyer, perhaps the hottest author in the universe today (J.K. Rowling has since taken a backseat). I've been dying to register, but I admit was intimidated by the truly insightful posts by hundreds of thousands of readers. On the afternoon of my birthday, I took a deep breath, filled up the profile fields, and clicked "submit." There. I'm a member! My first post was a self-introduction (as instructed by the moderators), and I proudly announced that it was my 38th birthday. Within a few minutes, I received half-a-dozen welcomes from around the twilight universe. The number tripled within a few hours. Besides the happy birthdays, they mostly applauded me for my...er...maturity. Heck, I got messages from 13-year-olds, forty-somethings...it was unbelievable. Never before have I seen with my own eyes the connections forged by the internet.

May 12th was the real party. My co-teachers and I shared bilaos of puto and pancit, and they gifted me with a brand new Swatch watch (aww, shucks...). We didn't party all day of course, being a work day ( I had to sneak out because I had a queue of interviewees waiting for me in the office).

All in all, I'm thankful for another year. I couldn't ask for anything more. I've got family and friends who love and support me--I've always had them, actually--but now, I've got friends in cyberspace too.

REMOTE TVictim # 3: Private Practice, aired Thursdays at 9 (?) over Studio 23

(This blog series is my take on various TV shows that I don't watch on a regular basis. I review just one episode, and will most likely not do so based on context or series "mythology." What you are about to read is rather shortsighted, often biased, and probably loopy. Please do not be offended if I diss your all-time favorite TV show at one point, or if I adore the ones you hate.)

Warning: My impressions of Private Practice are largely based on guesswork and speculation, with a small, microscopic part extracted from cynical and prejudiced views against hospital dramas post-St. Elsewhere.

First impression: what is Addison, McDreamy's ex (Grey's Anatomy, you know) doing in a spin-off? Is she the lead star here? Apparently, coz in the episode I watched, her opinion even as a wellness center newbie seems to matter. Musclebound Taye Diggs and award-winning Amy Brenneman are also cast as private practitioners, but Tim Daly's and Paul Adelstein's (loved him in Prison Break!) characters interest me the most. The smoldering looks and innuendos between his character and Addison hint at things to come. Hah. What a way to say, McDreamy can go to hell, preferably with Dr. Grey.

The show may boast of a powerhouse cast, but how long can they keep up viewer interest in alternative medicine? I would imagine that this fact should remain insignificant in the face of burgeoning relationships among the doctors. Seems likely in this particular episode where two African-American infants are switched at the nursery of another hospital, and the sick infant is brought in for consultation. What follows is so predictable, I was tempted to switch channels. I stuck it out until the end, waiting for another boiling hot lookfest between Addison and Dr. Pete the herbal medicine expert. Now that didn't disappoint me.

What Private Practice lacks, in my humble, non-medical opinion, is sustainability and connectivity between doctor and patient. The doctors seem too self-absorbed to be in any way attuned to the people who seek alternative healing. The premise lends itslef to early self-destruction, especially to those of us who get our escapist adrenaline rush from the zooming gurneys of E.R. and the acerbic storylines of House. Or I could be wrong. Maybe Grey's Anatomy viewers will throw some love at the wellness center, and keep the private practice alive.

UGLY BETTY IS A PRETTY GOOD SHOW AFTER ALL

A warm, fuzzy feeling enveloped me as I watched my second straight Ugly Betty "realizations" episode. Once again, Betty helps more than one person in dire need, but I suspect that Boss Daniel Meade (she was rehired) will always top her list of people-who-need-saving-from-themselves.

REMOTE TVictim # 2 : Terminator, The Sarah Connor Chronicles

(This blog series is my take on various TV shows that I don't watch on a regular basis. I review just one episode, and will most likely not do so based on context or series "mythology." What you are about to read is rather shortsighted, often biased, and probably loopy. Please do not be offended if I diss your all-time favorite TV show at one point, or if I adore the ones you hate.)

My memories of the Terminator movie franchise can be summed up in this order:

Terminator - Michael Biehn rocks.

Terminator 2: Judgement Day - Linda Hamilton's arms: prosthetically-enhanced?

Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines - Nick Stahl can't be Michael Biehn's offspring!!!

Because I was then so focused on the actors, I missed the mythology of the whole thing. So hit me, Ahnuld. Last Saturday, a really bad cold and lethargic limbs prevented me from going anywhere, so I lay down to watch all three films, one after the other, on Star Movies. And I went, wow. Is that what it's all about? Strangely unsatisfied, I switched channels and found the TV series version: Terminator, The Sarah Connor Chronicles. I decided to go the extra mile and see if the TV version will fill in the gaping holes left by the movie storylines.

This particular episode had Kyle Reese's brother Derek in it. With no effort, the scene I caught (I failed to tune in at the beginning), where Resistance fighters were supposedly caught and herded into a basement, and chained to the floor, tied in neatly with Kyle's story in Terminator I. Five seconds later, I got lost, as the scenes vacillate between Derek, lying injured on Sarah and John's couch, and the 2029 (?) Derek whispering bitter nothings to a guy who keeps saying, "It's my fault. I built Skynet." Cut to commercial...

It was an awfully excruciating experience to have a trilogy so fresh in my mind, so vivid in my awareness, come crashing down with a rude thud, as the characters, plot, even the effects go bouncing off in different directions. I find the actress who plays Sarah too be all wrong; I can't explain why. Thomas Dekker's John Connor looks ill at ease, like he was cast for his slight resemblance to daddy Kyle, and nothing else. And who did they replace Ahnuld with? Cameron Philips (the obvious reference to THE James Cameron is cheesy), a ballet dancing cyborg. It was all so contrived! I had more empathy with Jessica Alba in Dark Angel, though I find that series just as pretentious.

It will take some superhuman effort, but I'll have to wait until Terminator 4 slams into theatres in 2009. Christian Bale has reportedly been cast as an adult John Connor, and a yet unnamed actor will appear as Kyle, whom I miss so terribly. Maybe then I'll get my answers, and my revenge against the tv series producers that dreamt up the nightmare I just endured.

GOLDEN VOWS: Uncle Inar and Auntie Conching Rosal say "I do" again! You're invited to view pics of the wedding of the half-century...

The groom and his sister, Charito

The charming Terol sisters

Bottom (L-R): Auntie Charito, Auntie Lina

Top (L-R): Auntie Vita, Me, Kuya Al

The bride and groom: Auntie Conching & Uncle Inar

(L-R): Auntie Elvie, Auntie Vita, Kuya Al, Auntie Lina, Ate Cacay,

Auntie Charito, Ate Ging

It was a lovely, solemn affair, broken only by Ate Cecel's tearful Prayers of the Faithful, and the bride's zealous "I do." So sorry I missed the reception, but I heard everyone had a grand time there too! Congratulations to two of my idols, Uncle Inar and Auntie Conching!