Sunday, September 30, 2007
Masaya 'ko, ikaw?
Paano ba masasabing masaya ang isang tao? ‘Pag ba nakangiti o tumatawa masaya na? ‘Pag ba minsan nalulungkot ka ibig sabihin ‘di ka na masaya?
Kahapon, galing kami sa Araneta ng tatay ko. Naka- berde ako, naka- puti siya. Alam niyo na siguro kung ano ang ipinunta naming dun.
Masaya kami pauwi. Siyempre, panalo eh. Kahit naubos and boses ko kakasigaw at kahit halos lumundag ang puso ko sa lakas ng tunog ng mga drums, sulit pa rin! Libu- libo man ang mga taong nagsisiksikan sa loob ng Araneta, wala kaming pangamba. Walang nag- iisip na baka manakawan o baka magkagulo. Walang ibang inaalala kundi ang laro. Parang ‘yun lang importante sa mga oras na ‘yon. ‘Yun lang ang inaabangan ng buong Pilipinas para sa ‘min.
Pagkatapos ng laban, sabay sabay na nag- alisan ang mga tao. Kumpul- kumpol pa rin ang mga berde at asul.
Naglalakad kami ng tatay ko nang may lumapit sa ‘ming nanlilimos sa may parking lot. Kawawa naman, naisip ko. Gusgusin ang itsura at nangangyayat. Walang dudang ‘di nakakakain sa oras. Siguro, halaga lang ng blouse, pantalon at tsinelas ng isang lasalista at atenista, mabubuhay na ang batang ito sa loob ng isang taon.
Napaka- unfair ko pala.
Paminsan nasasabi kong hindi ako masaya dahil lang may isang pangyayaring nakakalungkot; dahil lang sa isang talo sa UAAP, sa isang mababang marka, sa isang damit na ‘di ko nabili dahil wala ng size. Ang babaw. Nakakalungkot ‘pag nabigo ka, pag nawalan ng minamahal, pag di nasunod ang gusto. Mababaw pa rin.
Unfair ang buhay, oo.
Unfair ang buhay; pero di dahil kahit kelan ‘di ka pwedeng maging laging masaya.
Unfair ang buhay; dahil may mga taong kahit minsan hindi naging masaya.
Masaya ba ‘ko? Oo.
Masaya ba ko lagi? Hindi.
Pero kahit may mga oras na nasasaktan ako at may mga oras na parang pinagbagsakan ako ng langit at lupa, sasabihin ko paring masaya ako. Hindi patas and hilingin mong sa lahat ng oras makulay at puno ng halakhak ang buhay para lang masabi mong masaya ka. May mga taong nagugutom, walang matiran, hindi makapag- aral, walang bagong damit kung Pasko; kung dahil lang sa simpleng mga bagay sasabihin mong hindi ka masaya, pano naman sila? Parang inalisan mo na sila, hindi ng karapatan, kundi ng pag- asa para lumigaya.
Oo nga pala, ikaw, masaya ka ba?
Kahapon, galing kami sa Araneta ng tatay ko. Naka- berde ako, naka- puti siya. Alam niyo na siguro kung ano ang ipinunta naming dun.
Masaya kami pauwi. Siyempre, panalo eh. Kahit naubos and boses ko kakasigaw at kahit halos lumundag ang puso ko sa lakas ng tunog ng mga drums, sulit pa rin! Libu- libo man ang mga taong nagsisiksikan sa loob ng Araneta, wala kaming pangamba. Walang nag- iisip na baka manakawan o baka magkagulo. Walang ibang inaalala kundi ang laro. Parang ‘yun lang importante sa mga oras na ‘yon. ‘Yun lang ang inaabangan ng buong Pilipinas para sa ‘min.
Pagkatapos ng laban, sabay sabay na nag- alisan ang mga tao. Kumpul- kumpol pa rin ang mga berde at asul.
Naglalakad kami ng tatay ko nang may lumapit sa ‘ming nanlilimos sa may parking lot. Kawawa naman, naisip ko. Gusgusin ang itsura at nangangyayat. Walang dudang ‘di nakakakain sa oras. Siguro, halaga lang ng blouse, pantalon at tsinelas ng isang lasalista at atenista, mabubuhay na ang batang ito sa loob ng isang taon.
Napaka- unfair ko pala.
Paminsan nasasabi kong hindi ako masaya dahil lang may isang pangyayaring nakakalungkot; dahil lang sa isang talo sa UAAP, sa isang mababang marka, sa isang damit na ‘di ko nabili dahil wala ng size. Ang babaw. Nakakalungkot ‘pag nabigo ka, pag nawalan ng minamahal, pag di nasunod ang gusto. Mababaw pa rin.
Unfair ang buhay, oo.
Unfair ang buhay; pero di dahil kahit kelan ‘di ka pwedeng maging laging masaya.
Unfair ang buhay; dahil may mga taong kahit minsan hindi naging masaya.
Masaya ba ‘ko? Oo.
Masaya ba ko lagi? Hindi.
Pero kahit may mga oras na nasasaktan ako at may mga oras na parang pinagbagsakan ako ng langit at lupa, sasabihin ko paring masaya ako. Hindi patas and hilingin mong sa lahat ng oras makulay at puno ng halakhak ang buhay para lang masabi mong masaya ka. May mga taong nagugutom, walang matiran, hindi makapag- aral, walang bagong damit kung Pasko; kung dahil lang sa simpleng mga bagay sasabihin mong hindi ka masaya, pano naman sila? Parang inalisan mo na sila, hindi ng karapatan, kundi ng pag- asa para lumigaya.
Oo nga pala, ikaw, masaya ka ba?
# posted by Liana : 7:32 PM
Moved On
This is the article published in New York Times last week. i only inserted some comments. read it and be the judge.
Nation’s Passion Lives in a Rivalry of Green vs. Blue
By RAPHAEL BARTHOLOMEW
Published: September 23, 2007
By RAPHAEL BARTHOLOMEW
Published: September 23, 2007
QUEZON CITY, the Philippines, Sept. 21 — Senators, foreign diplomats, cabinet ministers, a smattering of Forbes’s 40 richest Filipinos, movie stars and enough professional basketball players to play five-on-five. They are the elite of Philippine society, and they all gather at Araneta Coliseum in Quezon City to watch the men’s basketball rivalry between the universities Ateneo de Manila and De La Salle.
La Salle Coach Franz Pumaren said, “The janitors in Araneta always say, ‘If there’s an Ateneo-La Salle game, once everybody’s out of the coliseum, it still smells good because of the all the socialites watching.’ ”
In the basketball-crazed Philippines, where former players have become senators and nearly every public square has its own court, it is hard to imagine a crowd like this assembling for any other event. Kristie A. Kenney, the United States ambassador, attended the season’s first meeting between Ateneo and La Salle in late July.
Ateneo and La Salle are the most prestigious private universities in the country. The question of which institution provides a superior education is a toss-up; the tie breakers take place on the basketball court.
The quality of education is NOT A TOSS-UP, mister. DLSU ranked 392 (or something close), while ADMU placed 488 (sure about that). ‘Nuf said!
Although Ateneo and La Salle have similar upper-class student bodies, their respective basketball teams are very different.
The Ateneo players have a squeaky-clean image. The team’s prize freshman, Kirk Long, came from Faith Academy, a high school in suburban Manila for the children of foreign missionaries. Guard Eric Salamat’s surname means thank you in Tagalog.
I guess you forgot to mention that one of their best players, Jai Reyes, was married just recently because he got his girlfriend pregnant. Now that’s talking about coming out clean.
La Salle’s players have a menacing swagger, with tattoos, headbands, shaved heads and chin-strap beards. In 2005, La Salle revealed that two of its players had used phony high school equivalency results in their applications, and the team was suspended for the 2006 season.
It’s ok to compare both teams, but you did it in a very biased way. On the flip side, thanks for mentioning that DLSU REVEALED about last year’s controversy. We weren’t caught; we chose to do what’s right.
The teams also play different styles, with somewhat different results. The De La Salle Green Archers won four straight national championships from 1998 to 2001 thanks to its vaunted trapping defense.
“The dreaded press; you know your guards will turn over the ball against it,” said Joel Banal, who coached Ateneo in 2002 and 2003. “I used to have nightmares about it.”
Ateneo plays textbook basketball, with man-to-man defense and an inside-out offense that relies on post-up moves and perimeter shooting. The Blue Eagles won the 2002 championship, their only title in the last 17 years.
If Ateneo wins Sunday’s game against the University of St. Thomas, it will face La Salle for the fourth time this season, in the national semifinals. Ateneo has won two of their three meetings this season, games decided by a total of 6 points.
In each of these nail-biters, the 15,000-seat arena was sold out, with supporters standing in aisles and stairwells. Almost everyone on La Salle’s side of the coliseum wore green. On the other side, Ateneo’s fans wore blue. Marching bands blared fight songs as spectators on both sides chanted.
The frenzied crowds are often led by some of the most prominent alumni. Senator Richard Gordon, a former Ateneo cheerleader, is renowned for sideline antics like jumping on the scorer’s table to rile up the crowd. La Salle counts the former finance secretary José Pardo and the shipping mogul Enrique Razon Jr. among its supporters.
The rivalry allows Manila’s elites to relive their carefree college days, said Ricky Palou, Ateneo’s athletic director. “It’s the passion they have for their alma mater,” he said. “They become immature. They act like kids.”
The fans’ excessive behavior is matched by the largesse that the alumni lavish on their teams. A group from Ateneo installed the hardwood floor used for the 2000 N.B.A. All-Star Game at the university gym. Not to be outdone, Razon donated about $1 million, which went toward refurbishing La Salle’s sports center and financing athletic scholarships.
The heightened atmosphere of the rivalry puts coaches and players under enormous pressure. When Joe Lipa coached Ateneo in the late 1990s, the former president Corazon Aquino, whose daughter Kris is a 1992 graduate, would call Lipa to check on the team’s progress, said Ricky Dandan, Lipa’s former assistant.
“You can lose to all the other teams, but not to La Salle,” Banal said.
When his team defeated La Salle for the championship in 2002, it was “my most fulfilling accomplishment,” Banal said, adding: “After that championship it’s like the whole Filipino nation knew me. Like if you go to a restaurant, you eat, you’re paying your bill, somebody from Ateneo got it already.”
This is all about ATENEO; all about Banal. Wala na bang iba?
But the shame of losing also haunts players and coaches. In the final game of the 2002 national championship series, the La Salle star Mike Cortez missed 11 of 13 shots. Afterward, La Salle students and alumni accused Cortez of throwing the game. Although Cortez is now an all-star guard in the Philippine professional league, many fans still regard him as a game fixer.
I’m seeing some pattern here. Let me say it this way:
Pure praises for ADMU and all bull for DLSU.
The rivalry has loosened the bond of friendship between the teams’ coaches. Ateneo Coach Norman Black and Pumaren won several professional titles together in the late 1980s with the San Miguel Beermen.
“If you’re part of the rivalry, you just don’t like each other,” Black said. “Franz played for me and he was my assistant coach, but that has little bearing on what’s happening right now. He’s the coach of La Salle; I’m the coach of Ateneo. Let the chips fall where they may.”
Raphael Bartholomew, who did research at Ateneo de Manila University and was an adjunct lecturer there, is writing a book about Philippine basketball.
Talk about independence; both in mind and appearance. I’ll give you a D, man.
The first time I read this article, it really hit me badly. But after a few hours, I realized there’s no reason to feel really upset about it. Readers of NYT aren’t dumb, I’m sure about that. This article won’t damage DLSU’s image in anyway.
And to Mr. Bartholomew, what you tell people about DLSU and ADMU doesn’t just tell them about these schools; it’s tells them about you. Writing this article was definitely an opportunity to showcase your skill and fairness as a journalist. But you chose to do it OTHERWISE.
# posted by Liana : 7:20 PM
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Death Threat In Progress
Whoever is that RAPHAEL BARTHOLOMEW, and wherever you are right now, you're fortunate i still don't have the time to comment about your ONE SIDED article in New York Times!
I'm going to work on that over the weekened and i'm gonna nail your Caucasian AsS!
# posted by Liana : 6:15 PM
Leech- like Commitments don't work for me (or for anyone else)
Four more terms and I’m done with my undergrad life. I’ve been having constant trips to that distant future awaiting and I am often caught dreaming in broad daylight.
I am completely aware of those pot- holed streets I would have to pass through to that ‘happy ever after’. I am preparing myself to the sacrifices and heart- breaking decision I will soon make, and one conversion I had with my “boyfriend” gave me a preview of the many serious talks coming.
“What if there’s an opportunity for me to study abroad after graduation? Will you let me?”
If I heard that question from him years ago, I would have turned into that green- eyed insecure monster I once was and give him a DEFINITELY NOT answer.
But since I’ve already changed and matured in a lot of ways I never thought possible, I answered yes.
I said yes not because I know he wanted me to.
I said yes because I love him.
We’ve been together for four years. And even though our relationship remains unlabelled, we know exactly where we stand in each other’s life and we know for a fact that we want to be in each other’s future.
Four years is four years. It’s long enough to get tired of being with the same person, yet still too short to say I already know every inch of him.
Until now, I’m puzzled by how much I’ve grown as a person with him. I never thought I could love someone this much. Yeah, there goes that line again. But now it actually makes sense.
No matter how much I love being with him and no matter how much time we’ve spent together, I never, not even once, forgot who I am as a person. Because who I am when with him is that same person I am when alone or with someone else. My principles, my faith, my few disgusting habits; I don’t have to set them aside when we’re together. It goes with me… it stays with me… and he loves me with all that...
# posted by Liana : 5:55 PM
One Love, One Lifetime
Another boring day, I thought to myself.
I’ve already watched all the dvds we had, scanned every tv station and still found nothing interesting. So I stood up from the bed, tied my hair in a pony tail and went out of the room. From where I stood, I could see my dad reading the newspaper in the terrace. As I approached to join him, I smiled at what I saw:
my dad was holding the newspaper he was reading at one hand and the other was holding unto our rocking chair where my mom was sleeping. My dad was continuously rocking the chair so my mom could peacefully sleep.
Usually, whenever I see a couple being sweet to each other, I tease them. But this time around, I just stood there and enjoyed the scene. The smile didn’t leave my face for seconds and in my mind and heart, I was thankful for having wonderful parents to show me that true love is real. That unlike in fairy tales, true love doesn’t mean perfection. It is coupled with sacrifices and pain, heartaches and disappointments. But my parents are a sweet reminder to me, that if the love is genuine, it can stand any test.
I know that my parents won’t always be there for me when times get tough. They won’t be there to forever protect me from pain. But their simple and natural gestures taught me the greatest of life lessons without them even knowing it. It will not be their words that will echo in my head whenever I am troubled. It will be their memories, pictures of them showing me that together, they led the best life possible.
Someday… one day…. I want to be able to tell my parents, with the innocence and sincerity of a child, that they are the best parents in the whole wide world.
# posted by Liana : 5:48 PM
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I Saw My Dream Walking
[note: this was written months ago. I’m sane now.; back to my old self]
Statuesque body. Refined movements. Pearl- white skin. Long jet black hair. Thin red lips. Innocent smile. I saw this figure walking towards me. I’ve read hundreds of descriptions of angels and she fits them perfectly. Yes, she is a she. She is my living dream. Or should I say, she is living my dream?
Few years back, my dream of becoming a court side reporter was beyond possibility. But a couple of minutes ago, I was standing a foot away from this girl with whom I share only one thing: that dream. Our heartbreaking difference was, she actually had the time to make it real.
Back then, I kept on telling myself it was impossible; that it was too glamorous for an average girl like me. It killed the frustration for a while but what am I supposed to tell myself now? What excuses am I suppose to make- up just to get through another day seeing other people live their dreams… live my dreams.. They say it hurts when others take your dreams away from you. Yes, it does terribly. But it is a hundred times more painful when you CAN’T give yourself the chance to try; when you CAN’T give yourself what you deserve. I believe that in this life, our regrets are not the wrong things we’ve done but the right things we didn’t do and the opportunities we didn’t take.
Statuesque body. Refined movements. Pearl- white skin. Long jet black hair. Thin red lips. Innocent smile. I saw this figure walking towards me. I’ve read hundreds of descriptions of angels and she fits them perfectly. Yes, she is a she. She is my living dream. Or should I say, she is living my dream?
Few years back, my dream of becoming a court side reporter was beyond possibility. But a couple of minutes ago, I was standing a foot away from this girl with whom I share only one thing: that dream. Our heartbreaking difference was, she actually had the time to make it real.
Back then, I kept on telling myself it was impossible; that it was too glamorous for an average girl like me. It killed the frustration for a while but what am I supposed to tell myself now? What excuses am I suppose to make- up just to get through another day seeing other people live their dreams… live my dreams.. They say it hurts when others take your dreams away from you. Yes, it does terribly. But it is a hundred times more painful when you CAN’T give yourself the chance to try; when you CAN’T give yourself what you deserve. I believe that in this life, our regrets are not the wrong things we’ve done but the right things we didn’t do and the opportunities we didn’t take.
The hardest thing about studying in a university like La Salle is that it slaps the opportunities right into your face every single day and yet, you don’t actually have the time to grab them.
You may ask, am I happy? Yes, I am. But I don’t know if it’s because I’m doing what I want or is it just because I beat the challenge and I’ve never been this challenged all my life. Am I working hard? Yes, even too much, at times. But I don’t know if it’s because I want to get there and become a CPA or I just don’t want to fail. Accountancy is very difficult; unbearable to many. Yes, I am getting by but I don’t want to do something for the rest of my life just because I can live with it. I want to find something I cannot live without, pursue it and be passionate about it all my life. I can’t help but imagine myself on my death bed. Will I be able to smile and say, “Lord, you can take me anytime.” or until the last hours of my life, I’ll be begging God to say that reincarnation is real and I can go back to this earth to live my unfulfilled dreams someday?
I am a then- writer, a then- ball player, a then- debater, a then-dancer, a then- happy- go- lucky person. Is it worth giving up all these to become a CPA? Or should I just pack up and be a then- CPA wanna be?
.
# posted by Liana : 10:51 PM
Monday, September 24, 2007
The LIZMORASCH experience (every girl's ritual)
I was boyish. I WAS boyish.
Jeans and shirts were the only things that belonged in my closet and sneakers were the only shoes welcomed in my shoe rack. I didn’t wear earrings, or any accessories for that matter, aside from the Nike presto watch I used to own.
I never treasured my Barbie dolls.
And I never dreamt of looking like them.
My elem days were about basketball: playing the sport and watching the games. I was never the reserved type who would sit in one corner during PE classes. I run. I play. I get dirty. And I sweat like a pig.
But then, no matter how much I enjoyed those days, I needed to grow up.
Time flies so fast and suddenly, I was already a College student. It was like I was dropped into an Era different from the one I used to belong in.
I thought it would be difficult to adjust.
Fortunately, it wasn’t really that tough.
Not long after, I started adapting to the culture.
I started wearing clothes I never thought I would look good in. I learned about sandals, slip- ons, flip flops, stilettos, etc. I wore earring, necklaces, belts, bangles and whatever there was that could make my outfit more interesting. I learned socializing to strangers I meet in every class (since we don’t have blocks). And I finally accepted that not all DLSU students are elitists.
Anyways, the other day, I felt like trying something new. I don’t go to salons to have regular manicures and pedicures. I used to do it by myself. There was just this time I went there with friends to have that usual girl bonding. But the other day was different. It was the first time I went to Lizmorasch, in my own free will, to subject myself to the “Ritual”.
I enjoyed it. Really, really enjoyed it.
It always feels good to be pampered.
I just went there for a pedicure but I ended up paying P300 for a manicure, pedicure and nail art. I also got free foot massage and free stories from Ate. It was really worth it.
Sometimes, I still miss that ‘factory worker’ look (in jeans, shirt and sneakers) I used to have. And I terribly miss basketball and other rough games. But I’ve already enjoyed those things at one time in my life. Now, I’m just enjoying that part of me who loves flowers, pink tops, skirts, flip flops, head bands, shopping sprees and pedicures.
Jeans and shirts were the only things that belonged in my closet and sneakers were the only shoes welcomed in my shoe rack. I didn’t wear earrings, or any accessories for that matter, aside from the Nike presto watch I used to own.
I never treasured my Barbie dolls.
And I never dreamt of looking like them.
My elem days were about basketball: playing the sport and watching the games. I was never the reserved type who would sit in one corner during PE classes. I run. I play. I get dirty. And I sweat like a pig.
But then, no matter how much I enjoyed those days, I needed to grow up.
Time flies so fast and suddenly, I was already a College student. It was like I was dropped into an Era different from the one I used to belong in.
I thought it would be difficult to adjust.
Fortunately, it wasn’t really that tough.
Not long after, I started adapting to the culture.
I started wearing clothes I never thought I would look good in. I learned about sandals, slip- ons, flip flops, stilettos, etc. I wore earring, necklaces, belts, bangles and whatever there was that could make my outfit more interesting. I learned socializing to strangers I meet in every class (since we don’t have blocks). And I finally accepted that not all DLSU students are elitists.
Anyways, the other day, I felt like trying something new. I don’t go to salons to have regular manicures and pedicures. I used to do it by myself. There was just this time I went there with friends to have that usual girl bonding. But the other day was different. It was the first time I went to Lizmorasch, in my own free will, to subject myself to the “Ritual”.
I enjoyed it. Really, really enjoyed it.
It always feels good to be pampered.
I just went there for a pedicure but I ended up paying P300 for a manicure, pedicure and nail art. I also got free foot massage and free stories from Ate. It was really worth it.
Sometimes, I still miss that ‘factory worker’ look (in jeans, shirt and sneakers) I used to have. And I terribly miss basketball and other rough games. But I’ve already enjoyed those things at one time in my life. Now, I’m just enjoying that part of me who loves flowers, pink tops, skirts, flip flops, head bands, shopping sprees and pedicures.
I’m just having fun being a girl. Ü
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And that’s evidence. *wink*
# posted by Liana : 7:27 PM
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Who Taught You How To Ride A Bike?
Who loved you enough to spend time watching you closely as you tried to push the pedals and maintain your balance?
Who cared for you that much to always be a step behind, ready to protect you from any harm, yet, confidently, loosened his grip and let you go?
And who was there, waiting for your return, when you finally got it right and biked a few more blocks?
KENG TAUGHT ME HOW TO RIDE A BIKE.
I can tell you more about who he is and how he changed my life. But that pretty much says it.
ya and cess
Who cared for you that much to always be a step behind, ready to protect you from any harm, yet, confidently, loosened his grip and let you go?
And who was there, waiting for your return, when you finally got it right and biked a few more blocks?
KENG TAUGHT ME HOW TO RIDE A BIKE.
I can tell you more about who he is and how he changed my life. But that pretty much says it.
ya and cess
# posted by Liana : 6:10 PM
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
NOT THIS TIME!
I thought UE sealed our fate.
I thought our come back was doomed.
I though ADMU would have their smooth- sailing trip to the finals.
Fortunately,
I thought WRONG.
I thought our come back was doomed.
I though ADMU would have their smooth- sailing trip to the finals.
Fortunately,
I thought WRONG.
Saturday, September 15- I watched the ADMU vs. NU game with just one goal in mind: to see the irresistibly good- looking face of Chris Tiu ( ‘yaw pa kasi introduce sa ‘min ni cousin dex eh… hehe).
That game was useless. ADMU can definitely beat NU. No sweat!
It turned out that I (and so did the ADMU) underestimated the NU bulldogs badly. They came to win. The game ended in overtime. NU won with an 8- point margin.
And we saw the light once again…
A third chance… to beat the team that broke our hearts twice…
Then came that much- awaited day…
September 18, Tuesday- I really wanted to be a part of that game. I wanted to be at Araneta and cheer for DLSU. But no matter how much I wanted it, I couldn’t. I still have a 6pm class after a four- hour break. DLSU hadn’t suspended classes just because of UAAP games. We’re not just about basketball, anyway.
It was a choice between filling a tiny spot there at the Araneta stands and attending my law class. I chose the later.
Thirty minutes before the start of the game, I was already rushing my way to Z2. It had been a tradition to set up a screen there so students could watch controversial and much- awaited games of DLSU. And, of course, games played against ADMU were usually highly controversial and very much awaited.
The game was about to start. I was lucky to find a place at the 2nd floor. It felt like we were at Araneta’s extension. The second floor was the Upper box, the first was the Patron, and anywhere outside the hall was considered the Gen. Ad.
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the Gen. Ad.
It was an exciting game; definitely a classic. The hall was filled different reactions like:
“Arao, ang pangit mo! Di ka pang- tv!”
“Monfort, daga!”
“Na- injured foot ni Rico! Dapat pututlan ng paa si Arao!”
(response ng katabi): No way, dude! Dapat putulan ng ulo si Arao!
Paa lang ni Rico mukha niya!”
(while Tiu was making his free throws)
Note: sobrang mixed yung cheers
“Booooooo!”- the guys
“Go!”- the girls
“ang gwapo mo talaga!”-the gays
(when an Atenean was shown on screen as the face of the game)
“ang pangit! Double eeeewww!
(when an alumnus of DLSU was shown)
… clap to the max!
(when Gary V. was shown)
….clap to the max, ulit!
(when 3 La Sallites holding the “Not this Time” banner were shown)
…. Clap and shout to the max!
It was an awesome experience! It felt like we were there, watching it live. We even extended our hands pointing ‘one for La Salle’ whenever free throws were made. And of course, what could have made it even better than leaving our seats victorious.
It was such a glorious time. Not a single cheer leader was there to guide us; no SC rep to make commands. But when the game clock froze at 00.0 and the score board flashed 70 -69 in our favour, we stood at our feet, raised our clenched fists and, with all the ANIMO burning inside us, shouted:
D-L-S-U ANIMO LA SALLE!
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a venue filled with people full of pride
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Torn Between Two MEN
Life was a lot simpler back then; when there was only one guy in my heart. No competition. No jealousy. No need to weigh options and make choices.
Those days are gone now. I’m in a dilemma. I’m stuck between two men who are very special in heart:
my DAD and my future boy friend.
My dad and I are inseparable. He tags me along to practically everywhere he goes to. We even hold hands when we walk and I still (automatically) baby talk whenever I answer his calls.
My dad is my favorite mall buddy. I love the fact that he just stays at Power books while I do my shopping with his wallet in my bag. Then, we’ll meet three or four hours later, he’ll inspect every single piece I bought inside the car and complain about almost everything. But since they were already paid for, his you-cant-wear-this-shirt-at-school speech ends with him feeling so irritated and, of course, with me smiling from ear to ear.
Those days are gone now. I’m in a dilemma. I’m stuck between two men who are very special in heart:
my DAD and my future boy friend.
My dad and I are inseparable. He tags me along to practically everywhere he goes to. We even hold hands when we walk and I still (automatically) baby talk whenever I answer his calls.
My dad is my favorite mall buddy. I love the fact that he just stays at Power books while I do my shopping with his wallet in my bag. Then, we’ll meet three or four hours later, he’ll inspect every single piece I bought inside the car and complain about almost everything. But since they were already paid for, his you-cant-wear-this-shirt-at-school speech ends with him feeling so irritated and, of course, with me smiling from ear to ear.
my dad and i @ araneta, watching dlsu vs. admu
However, my dad has been acting a bit weird lately. I suspect he’s getting jealous; and not just the plain jealous type, but the “boy friend jealous” kind of jealous. You know what I mean.
One time he told me to just send him a text and he’ll pick me up. I was surprised by that look on his face when he saw me at our doorstep- with keng. I knew then that he wasn’t mad about me not texting him. I was certain he got jealous because I chose keng to bring me home rather than him.
My dad isn’t ready to let me go. He’s still not prepared for that i-entrust- you-my-daughter scene he’ll soon be facing. I can’t blame him. It’s not easy to see your only girl become some other guy’s girl.
I love my dad.
My dad loves me more. He showers me with a love as pure and as unshakable as that of a mother’s. And unlike most dads, he’s not afraid to say it.
I’m a self- confessed daddy’s girl. He’ll forever be my no.1 guy.
He will still be my favorite mall buddy. I still look forward to watching basketball games with him. I will still sit on his lap and hold his hand whenever (and wherever) I want to. And I will still send him ‘I love you’s on his cell phone on Christmas and Valentine’s.
But….
Soon, he’ll have to open our house and his heart, to this one special guy I chose.
He’ll have to entrust his little girl to this guy he sees as competition. He might not like him, but he’ll have to be polite, or else his hurt his baby’s heart.
One time he told me to just send him a text and he’ll pick me up. I was surprised by that look on his face when he saw me at our doorstep- with keng. I knew then that he wasn’t mad about me not texting him. I was certain he got jealous because I chose keng to bring me home rather than him.
My dad isn’t ready to let me go. He’s still not prepared for that i-entrust- you-my-daughter scene he’ll soon be facing. I can’t blame him. It’s not easy to see your only girl become some other guy’s girl.
I love my dad.
My dad loves me more. He showers me with a love as pure and as unshakable as that of a mother’s. And unlike most dads, he’s not afraid to say it.
I’m a self- confessed daddy’s girl. He’ll forever be my no.1 guy.
He will still be my favorite mall buddy. I still look forward to watching basketball games with him. I will still sit on his lap and hold his hand whenever (and wherever) I want to. And I will still send him ‘I love you’s on his cell phone on Christmas and Valentine’s.
But….
Soon, he’ll have to open our house and his heart, to this one special guy I chose.
He’ll have to entrust his little girl to this guy he sees as competition. He might not like him, but he’ll have to be polite, or else his hurt his baby’s heart.
Dad, I know it will be difficult, even bloody, considering how close we are and how protective you are as a dad. You may not be cool, but you’re irreplaceable. And no guy can take you out of my life. You have a place in my heart, deepened and made special with every trip to the mall, every basketball game, every graduation, every “simbang gabi”, every Christmas, every “date”, every joke, every argument, every hug, every good night kiss, and just about everything we ever shared.
And, by the way, there’s no reason for you to get all nervous. He’ll take care of me, dad, because, believe it or not, he’s like you. A lot slimmer, but just like the way you are.
And, by the way, there’s no reason for you to get all nervous. He’ll take care of me, dad, because, believe it or not, he’s like you. A lot slimmer, but just like the way you are.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
dETERMINeD fUTURe
determined...
future...
two words...
often heard...
easily spelled...
too bad they can never go together;
or at least they won't make sense.
future...
two words...
often heard...
easily spelled...
too bad they can never go together;
or at least they won't make sense.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Why not the WORLD?
Why not the world?- this tag line was used by Inquirer (if I remember it right) months ago for their ads. And, as weird as it may sound, it just popped in my mind on a long and tiring trip home.
So, why not the world?
A lot of people, with their beaming eyes and dreamy tone, have told me that with a DLSU diploma and a CPA license under my name, I can work in wherever place I wish to in this whole wide world.
I believe them. My professors are living proofs.
But why is there not a sole chance I ever think of conquering the world as a Certified Public Accountant? Why have I never dreamt of climbing up the corporate ladder of a multinational company? And why am I so passionate about pursuing law, yet not having the intention of working as a lawyer?
I’m a competitive person, or so I believe I am.
Though I’m not the G.C. type they expect every BSA student to be, I still exert effort to prepare for they day ahead. I don’t do extra researches or read loads of stuffs but I’m confident that I, at least, know the general idea of the topic to be discussed. I can call myself hard- working but I’m not a nerd. I don’t think I’m ‘worthy’ to be called one, anyway. I still choose watching basketball games and talk shows before reviewing for exams. I still copy home works from those people who are willing to share theirs. And I didn’t even bother to review much for a 110- item quiz I would take the next day so as not to have eye bags on my graduation pic. ( duh? My pic was more important!) Anyway, despite my quite confusing priorities, I manage to consistently maintain a spot in the dean’s list.
So why am I doing all this? Why am I working so hard? And the most important question to ask actually is: what do I really want to become?
My friends, my parents, my professors, and uhmmm, well, practically everyone I know have asked me that question. And believe me, I asked myself the same five times more than everyone else who did. And every time, one word will come out of my mouth: HOUSEWIFE
I have received a lot of different reactions because of that. Some find it funny, some are amazed, but no one has ever reacted violently and I’m keeping my fingers crossed on that.
Sometimes, I wonder whether they think of me as someone stupid to ever dream of just becoming a housewife. Maybe some judged me as being dim- witted or a dumb ass. I don’t care. Yes, I feel delighted after seeing a 3.5 or 4.0 in my course card. But the ecstasy it gives lasts for just 10 minutes! Being a housewife, I know, deep within my heart of hearts, will bring me contentment and happiness that last long enough to give me the strength to even smile on my death bed.
My dreams aren’t made of plaques and fame and thousand dollar pay checks and stilettos. My dream has always been about a lifetime love and wonderful kids and hours in the kitchen and drawings all over neatly painted walls.
I will conquer the world one day. But not the same world Lea Salonga had in mind when she pursued her dreams. My world isn’t composed of vast continents and unfathomable seas. My world is small, protected, taken cared of, loved and filled with the aroma of freshly baked lemon squares and cream puffs.
So, why not the world?
A lot of people, with their beaming eyes and dreamy tone, have told me that with a DLSU diploma and a CPA license under my name, I can work in wherever place I wish to in this whole wide world.
I believe them. My professors are living proofs.
But why is there not a sole chance I ever think of conquering the world as a Certified Public Accountant? Why have I never dreamt of climbing up the corporate ladder of a multinational company? And why am I so passionate about pursuing law, yet not having the intention of working as a lawyer?
I’m a competitive person, or so I believe I am.
Though I’m not the G.C. type they expect every BSA student to be, I still exert effort to prepare for they day ahead. I don’t do extra researches or read loads of stuffs but I’m confident that I, at least, know the general idea of the topic to be discussed. I can call myself hard- working but I’m not a nerd. I don’t think I’m ‘worthy’ to be called one, anyway. I still choose watching basketball games and talk shows before reviewing for exams. I still copy home works from those people who are willing to share theirs. And I didn’t even bother to review much for a 110- item quiz I would take the next day so as not to have eye bags on my graduation pic. ( duh? My pic was more important!) Anyway, despite my quite confusing priorities, I manage to consistently maintain a spot in the dean’s list.
So why am I doing all this? Why am I working so hard? And the most important question to ask actually is: what do I really want to become?
My friends, my parents, my professors, and uhmmm, well, practically everyone I know have asked me that question. And believe me, I asked myself the same five times more than everyone else who did. And every time, one word will come out of my mouth: HOUSEWIFE
I have received a lot of different reactions because of that. Some find it funny, some are amazed, but no one has ever reacted violently and I’m keeping my fingers crossed on that.
Sometimes, I wonder whether they think of me as someone stupid to ever dream of just becoming a housewife. Maybe some judged me as being dim- witted or a dumb ass. I don’t care. Yes, I feel delighted after seeing a 3.5 or 4.0 in my course card. But the ecstasy it gives lasts for just 10 minutes! Being a housewife, I know, deep within my heart of hearts, will bring me contentment and happiness that last long enough to give me the strength to even smile on my death bed.
My dreams aren’t made of plaques and fame and thousand dollar pay checks and stilettos. My dream has always been about a lifetime love and wonderful kids and hours in the kitchen and drawings all over neatly painted walls.
I will conquer the world one day. But not the same world Lea Salonga had in mind when she pursued her dreams. My world isn’t composed of vast continents and unfathomable seas. My world is small, protected, taken cared of, loved and filled with the aroma of freshly baked lemon squares and cream puffs.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
I Saw Him Raise His Clenched Fist
It was replayed in slow motion thrice.
Yes, the basket did not count but it also showed the referee raised his hand signalling a foul when there was point two seconds left in the game clock.
We lost to Ateneo twice this season. The first one was protested due to a rule violated by the other team but it resulted to nothing. The UAAP said it wasn’t material to change the game’s result, therefore it was pointless to nullify the game and set a re- match. Honestly, I agree with that decision. But still, I was disappointed with UAAP’s action. A team violated a rule. Therefore, they must be penalized. Whether they suspend the player or the coach, or just let them pay a fine. What’s the use of those rules when those who disobey them will not be punished?
Going back to last night’s game, yes, it was painful for about 3 minutes after hearing the buzzer that sealed our fate. But after I saw the replays, it was evident that the referee did call a foul even before Rico made his shot. That made my heart bleed a minute more.
I still don’t know whether the school will protest the game (ill find out later), but for me, they should, even though the other camp probably will throw us that they-don’t-know-how-to-lose statement for the second time. Our players work hard every single training day and they work harder as students. (some of them had been my classmates). Staying silent about this issue might send these boys the signal that we don’t really care about them, about our team.
Our players did their part; they played their hearts out last night. Now, it’s time for the management to do theirs. This isn’t about winning or losing. This is about fighting for our team, for our school; this is about fighting for those fierce young men who shed blood, sweat and tears in every single game just to give us pride.
Yes, the basket did not count but it also showed the referee raised his hand signalling a foul when there was point two seconds left in the game clock.
We lost to Ateneo twice this season. The first one was protested due to a rule violated by the other team but it resulted to nothing. The UAAP said it wasn’t material to change the game’s result, therefore it was pointless to nullify the game and set a re- match. Honestly, I agree with that decision. But still, I was disappointed with UAAP’s action. A team violated a rule. Therefore, they must be penalized. Whether they suspend the player or the coach, or just let them pay a fine. What’s the use of those rules when those who disobey them will not be punished?
Going back to last night’s game, yes, it was painful for about 3 minutes after hearing the buzzer that sealed our fate. But after I saw the replays, it was evident that the referee did call a foul even before Rico made his shot. That made my heart bleed a minute more.
I still don’t know whether the school will protest the game (ill find out later), but for me, they should, even though the other camp probably will throw us that they-don’t-know-how-to-lose statement for the second time. Our players work hard every single training day and they work harder as students. (some of them had been my classmates). Staying silent about this issue might send these boys the signal that we don’t really care about them, about our team.
Our players did their part; they played their hearts out last night. Now, it’s time for the management to do theirs. This isn’t about winning or losing. This is about fighting for our team, for our school; this is about fighting for those fierce young men who shed blood, sweat and tears in every single game just to give us pride.
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