Beauty And Culture

Yi Hanui, better known as Honey Lee in the Western media, is a South Korean graduate student who represented her country at the Miss Universe 2007 pageant in Mexico City.

Honey is a cunning gayageum (Korean zither) player who can also sing the throat-clenching pansori quite well. I have heard her play and she seems to be very good at the classic arts.

Will the Philippines ever have a 'beauty queen' with so much of her country in her? It is sad that we cannot even agree on a single folk costume to have our contestants wear.

Gay Freaks

Somewhere, some page in the world wide web I get to read people talking about who's gay, how gay they are, and how they articulately thought about it the whole time. A lot of these very busy people like throwing various gay phrases every now and then too. Oh he's gay! Is he gay? That is so gay! And yet they hardly know what they're talking about. It's stupid and it makes me want to puke. If you're going to use a word, you ought to know what it means. Otherwise you'll just look like an idiot. You wouldn't like that, would you?

I guess what I'm trying to say is: Get a fuckin' life, you airheads.

Apes Or Monkeys? Chicken Or Egg?

Do humans come from monkeys?

The answer is no. Humans did not evolve from monkeys. Humans are more closely related to modern apes than to monkeys, but we didn't evolve from apes, either. Humans share a common ancestor with modern African apes, like gorillas and chimpanzees. Scientists believe this common ancestor existed 5 to 8 million years ago. Shortly thereafter, the species diverged into two separate lineages. One of these lineages ultimately evolved into gorillas and chimps, and the other evolved into early human ancestors called hominids.

Which came first: the chicken or the egg?

I have choked on that question a million times.

Species change over time in the process of evolution. Since DNA can only be modified before birth, a mutation must have taken place within an egg such that a non-chicken mother laid the first chicken egg.

The modern chicken was believed to have descended from another closely related species of birds, the red junglefowl, but recently discovered genetic evidence suggests that the modern domestic chicken is a hybrid descendant of both the red junglefowl and the grey junglefowl. Assuming the evidence bears out, a hybrid is a compelling scenario that the egg came before the chicken.

I hope this settles it. And I hope someday the local textbooks will finally get updated. That, or our money back for all the taxes we have paid for the education system. The collection of books they call the Bible is no authority on science; I do not understand why Creationists insist on some old Hebrew myth to explain their lives. Silly if not stupid.

The Gods gave us brains. Heck, we should use them!

The Truth About Gay

In addition to its original and continuing senses of "merry, lively" and "bright or showy," gay has had various senses dealing with sexual conduct since the 17th century. A gay woman was a prostitute, a gay man a womanizer, a gay house a brothel. This sexual world included 'homosexually-inclined' men too, as their willingness to disregard conventional or respectable sexual mores were "carefree and uninhibited" (i.e. "gay"). [1]

With such confusion and psychological turmoil attached to the word, I'm glad I never moved from gay = happy.

It's not homophobia to be grumpy at the co-opting of a formerly perfectly useful word. (Suzanne Thackston)

The Truth About Bakla

The dictionary is very clear on its definitions. The etymology [babae ang akala] is also clear. The mental images one evokes upon hearing the word ("Girl, mukha kang bakla diyan sa suot mo.") are likewise clear. That is why I am still perturbed why some people would readily equate 'homosexual' with effeminate/hermaphroditic/androgynous.

I understand that words evolve. This one hasn't yet obviously.

The truth is: Tagalog has no native word for 'homosexual'. Nor does it need one.

Fashion For Show

On the first night of the lunar new year, both Main Man and I wore a changshan (Cantonese: chèuhngsàam, Fukien: chongsan) jacket to work. He wore blue; I wore black. Then we swapped. It was cute.

Apparently, many people thought the whole changshan theme was 'for show'. I choked. I like showing off my heritage. I'm proud I have one. But I did not wear that darn Manchu shirt to entertain your eyes. If my grandfather hadn't been Chinese, I wouldn't have worn the thing. It's not me to wear something just because other people are wearing it to be cool.

I just want to get my point across that I am what I wear. I wear my culture, my philosophy. My fashion isn't about what's cool or what's in - it's about who I am. In this age of global uniformity, it is a treasure to be who you are.

Fury aside, I greet you all a blessed slip into another spring. 新年快樂!

Time To Shout

I just want all of you to know that I have taken two of my silent "activisms" into open practice. I hereby announce my open boycott of anything produced by a large Japanese company or anything attached to the uterus of their government.

If it's Japanese, I'm not buying it. (Thank goodness I'm not into animē.)

This shall be my protest until the Japanese Government and the Chrysanthemum Throne confirm their errors to the world and make up for them. (I shall give no history lecture; all of you should know very well of their unresolved atrocities.) Perhaps if we stop feeding their corporations with our hard-earned money, they could have some real Nihonjin humility and finally apologise?

Idealistic? Certainly. Impossible? Close. Pointless? Maybe. But this is my stand. 'Tis not a case of an unforgiving heart. Should they seek forgiveness, I can bestow it. But no one from their party has ever sought it...sincerely.

I would hate to forget about eating at Japanese restaurants, but I must do this. I want to think Bushidō, Kokoro, and The Last Samurai. But alas, I cannot forget that period in history when they raped half of the globe when they promised to liberate it.

I am not calling for hate. I am calling for resolution. They should compensate. (No, cars and porn will not do.)

--
On a similar level, I have also stopped patronising anything that devotes itself to globalist consumerism, its poster boy being McDonald's. If your company is told that your practices harm the environment; that your company inflicts suffering on animals, feeds unhealthy substances to unsuspecting children, and serves fries containing meat though they were claimed to be vegetarian - you should listen, stop, and do something. Unless one is deaf to morality or is solely interested in profit. (I suspect both for they have been repeatedly told to little effect.)

Sweet + Impossible

Got these links from my friend keanoidd. It would be needlessly cruel not to share them.

First one is something that I think is undeniably full of love (you're supposed to click it). I am no fan of the music played but I cannot help but smile and admire the beautiful couple.

Second one is something that did not stop me from laughing. In keanoidd's words: Like Super Mario, only impossible. (Darn right!)

Thank Weirdness

[Aldrin talking about the country and degenerating civilisation.]

Some shmuck: "Ayan ka nanaman Aldrin. Ang weird mo talaga." (There you are again, Aldrin. You are so weird.)

[Aldrin with his ears a bit red but still very British.]

"I've come to terms with my being weird. At least I'm not like everybody else. Who would want to be so ordinary?"

Nonetheless, I can't seem to figure out what was so weird with talking about civilisation!

Grey-eyed God, wise one and warrior, artisan and philosopher, help us to cultivate wisdom, reason, and purity. Remind us that ignorance is inexcusable and a stagnant mind is an abomination. Remind us to learn new things whenever possible and to never fear new knowledge. And to philosophise, yes that is good. We would rather die as wrinkled wise men rather than beautiful idiots. Khaire Athene.

Hellboy meets Tolkien meets Warcraft

I had a view of this and hell does it look promising. At least in my taste.

You should see the elves. They look a bit like Haldir clones but with extra darkness. Works for me.

It's not Nazis, machines and mad scientists but the old gods and characters who have been kind of shoved out of our world. I kind of equate it to the whole American Indian situation. The Indians were shoved onto reservations. You had your old, wise Indians who said, "You know, this is the way it is. We can't fight anymore. We just have to accept our fate." You then have your Geronimo character saying, "Or we could just kill the White Man." That's kind of the situation we have in the film. We have our elf characters resigning to the way things are and then there's one saying, "Or we could take the world back." The main difference is - what if the Indians had a nuclear warhead? The elves have their equivalent of the weapon that is too terrible to use. What if this guy decided to use it?

Ommmmmmm

I haven't finished my resolutions. Inspiration drives me to pray instead. (Some lines inspired from various poetry by Hearthstone, Ceisiwr Serith, Sannion, and Brynhyld.)

Hail to you day, hail to you day's sons; hail to you night and daughters of night. I look to you with glad eyes, may you be witness to my prayers.

I pray to the wide and all-seeing heavens who look over the earth and her children; whose anger is the storm and whose mercy is the rain. To the ancient one before us all, may you secure our people and our property; keep us safe from typhoon, meteor shower, and cancer-causing UV. We know you are unbiased but you are also merciful. I've always campaigned against smoke-belchers; I have never burnt plastic nor patronised chlorofluorocarbons. For another year, old father, protect us. So that we may give you praise forever and look upon your sapphire-painted face with smiles.

I pray to the broad and all-feeding earth who is both gentle and terrible; whose anger is the quake and whose mercy is the richness of soil. To the mother of all that grows; on whom we walk, from whom we come, across whom we go on our life-long journey. May your compassion never tire to forgive us when we wrong you; may you preserve our existence and our happiness as we feed from your all-nourishing bosom. For another year, oldest of mothers, sustain us.

I pray to the all-reaching waters who are both under and above us; in deep crevices under your sister earth and above her the mighty seas. From you all life has sprung and continues to thrive. Continue to provide us with water to drink and blood in our veins to exist. We know you are slow to anger; may our lives be so lucky to never see you in fury. For another year, live with us, live in us.

For another year, may we remember that by loving you we are loving ourselves. Your current state of being is our survival. Oh eldest of gods, hear us another year.

Firsts

New Year's resolutions can sometimes be over-rated. People should inspire themselves to change for the better whenever need calls for it. But we must admit that new beginnings have their effect. It still makes sense to make them [annual resolutions]. I believe in the cosmic significance of rituals.

Like Sannion, I promise to:

1. To refrain from saying witty, unkind things, unless they are really witty and irreparably damaging.
2. To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time.

[From James Agate, London Sunday Times drama critic from 1923 to 1947.]

I greet you all a joyous, bountiful, and safe new year!

two thousand and eight | MMVIII | 2008

More Holiday Imperialism

I wrote this some weeks ago for our company. I was planning to wait 'til they publish it but it's been too long. I can't wait; Christmas is nearing. Must...insult...holiday...commercialism.

Halloween.

People here in this country have come to love this largely American event. It's a license to do all sorts of things that Filipinos are too shy to do. Cos-play; pig out on candy; throw loud parties. Bleep our program, or bleep our company for that matter, is no exception. After all we are an American company, aren't we? Yet this is where I put down my smile. While I find nothing wrong with us celebrating Halloween despite a lack of inherent connection with it (chokes on 'nothing wrong'), I just find it sad that none of our programs have ever celebrated the holidays that are native to us. Has anyone raised a Philippine flag during June 12th? Put up pictures of Dr José Rizál during his death anniversary (does anybody even know the date by heart)? Has anyone ever raised a toast to the heroism of Andrés Bonifacio? We invest hours for Halloween parties; have we ever aired a short prayer for our dearly departed? It's shameful if you ask me.

We work for an American company; we converse with an American audience; we are probably paid by their money. But we are not Americans (and I must thank the Gods for that, no offence). Halloween parties and Easter egg-hunts may seem fun, but those traditions are alien to us. But what's new, eh? We've been raking in foreign utterly useless customs since the first G.I. Joe set foot here. It's been a tradition. And it's alright (chokes some more). As long as we don't throw away the traditions that really matter, that is.

This December, I am willing to bet my left nut arm that at least one person will be decorating his/her station with a "White Christmas" theme - oblivious to the fact that we have neither snow nor intimate knowledge of the significance of plastic evergreen trees. (I'm half-European and I've never don my Yule tree with fake snow. It's ridiculous in a tropical climate!)

I'm not asking any of you anything. I'm not asking that we start putting up flowers for Flores de Mayo or flags on Independence Day (but lechon for Araw ng Maynila would be excellent). We don't need to if we don't want to. I am simply airing my sentiments. What I believe matters.

Advanced Happy Bonifacio Day, everyone!

Dead King's Weeping

A poem of mine from my college days. Inspired by brilliant paganus Isaac Bonewits' poem "Cú Chulainn Wept". I never got to title this, unfortunately.

'Twas the twelfth of June we called him
To join in the spirit of the night.
Rose a ghost in the silence of a song
Of a lord, Soliman to our sight.
In royal red, mightiest of elders
As his steady eyes upon us did fall.
Anguished was his face, full of despair,
His bearing had shamed us all.

"Too long have the islands been ravished...
"Too long have my people wept."
"Oh my Lord," I replied, in a voice so anguished,
"The old glory is no longer kept."
"My name is no longer remembered," the Lord responded;
"The language, bastardised aghast.
"The greed of its stewards unfolded,
"Treachery has triumphed at last"

Through the fog and the smog we watched him
Drew his sword to strike some cow'rd foe.
Falling tears could the lord hold no more
As the rajah saw Manila below.
"Where are all Her trees?" eyes blinking
"All rivers and lakes have been fouled
"Winds now are fetid and stinking --
"Who has raped my city?" he howled.

Farther north did he go, "Women?" asked he
"Pimped by their own mothers and reviled?"
Foreigners buying 'slaves' too young, I replied
And brutes who their daughters defiled.
The anger on his face, stuck to us forever,
As he saw what cowards we've been.
"What has happened?" he whispered, "to the women of the islands?"
"Know you nothing of Urduja the Queen?"

Then he wept, how he wept, the noble Lord of the Nilad.
For the the rape of women and country, he wept.

Then he turned his eyes south to the land of his faith.
What he saw made him amuck in despair.
He saw cowards and monsters, called to God as if noble,
While bullets and bombs covered the air.
Murder and terror without care as if with sanction
Muslim and Christian shot and left to die,
And the villians a-bragging, how "for God" were their actions,
"Not knowing how their ancestors cry?"

Now he raged, how he raged, the noble Lord of the Nilad.
For the shame and dishonor, he raged.

"A curse upon greedy stewards and barbarian defilers:
"May no night fall for you to sleep.
"May the ghosts of the past and the cries of your victims,
"Make you wail, to the ground may you creep!"
"May the curse of all gods and all kings,
"Descend on all traitors of the isles
"Who've perverted all that was sacred and holy,
"Who had passed off their crimes with false smiles."

"May the wrath of the old warriors afflict all law abusers,
"And defend the people against foolish mires.
"May those who've polluted the Motherland's body
"Fall screaming into Mayon's fires!
"This curse, it shall last, 'till spirits true are rekindled
"Honored at last by as of old.
"And demons of manhood perverted are vanquished
"For the love of our country hold."

How he raged, how he wept, the noble spirit Soliman.
In anger and sorrow, he left.

Not very good times we have now, eh? Not here, at least.

Not The Halloween I Know

(Let's pretend I posted this on time.)

I love Halloween. Fires, dancing, soul-singing, tricks, treats, apple pie. Unfortunately, the Halloween I love depreciated over the years thank you very much American-spawned commercialism. Today's Halloween is what I prefer to call Hallmark Halloween, along with Hallmark Easter and Hallmark Christmas. Today's Hallmark and Hershey's holiday is about spooks (and marketing money out of it). Scaring people with images of gore, darkness, and death. Fearing otherworldy beings and mocking their existence. No, All Hallows is not about fear and scare. While fear is natural, it is not for this day. The whole point of this yearly feast is to grow appreciation and respect for that necessary fact of darkness. It's about death, our mortality, the fragility of life, and the inevitable end. This day marks remembrance. Of old things, of dead things; roots, ancestors, the hidden and lost, the inevitable coming of winter (with our without snow, it's still winter), silence, darkness, last harvests, shadows, mysteries.

That is the All Hallows I know. Much like the Irish Samhain and Korean Chusok. Much like the local Undras. (Yeah, before it got bastardised, and yes with an R.)

And since today is about ancestral backtracking, I backtrack to an old post from two years back.

+ + +

Music playing: “Elysium” – Hans Zimmer & Lisa Gerard

First day of the month. First day of November. Summer rains and warm breezes are all fading into chilly whispers. The inevitable chill shall cover the earth once again.

On this day, of whose night is darkest amongst all nights, and yet brightest as all candles are lit, we remember those who have gone. Those who had woven all their shares in the fate of the world. Fetched by grey steeds; boarded on grey ships into the Parting Seas. Those who had earned their still passage into the Undying Lands. We remember. We give honour and hail.

Hail, the Blessed Dead. And all our fathers and mothers of old before us. To the line of our people back to the beginning.

We remember. Hail.

On this same day and night, as we commit to our ancestral rites, we remember the place of death in the world, interim and absolute; of an inescapable and fragile mortality we must all acknowledge, from simple to tragic. At the same time, we are reminded as well that this passage should not be feared, nor bitterly received when the time comes. Such reflections are the purpose of this time.

But for now, as all pilgrims not through with their journeys, we pray Death another year: “You have your own place, Death, and this is not it. There you rule as queen; here we are the most common of people. There you dwell in a noble palace; here we live in a simple house. There you enjoy sparkling riches; here our poverty shames us. Go to your place, Death, and wait for us there. We have heard your message and we will respond. But we are busy here, Death. We have many things to do. Be patient, we will respond, but only when the time is right. Return to your home, Death, and wait for us to come. For you it will be only a little while. For us it will be a lifetime.” [Ceisiwr Serith]

We pray you O' Coverer another year. A few dozen more, even. And until that time comes when we have grown weary of the world, we will pray again a couple more.