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February 5, 2009

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Social Animals

February 5, 2009

Here is new and interesting site for all of us…

it is called ScrapGroup.

Just like any social networking sites, here you can invite and add a lot of your friend in your locality and abroad. Here, you could also upload pictures, join in groups and chat with your buddies, and join in several forums, to mention a few. So cool!

Scrapbook really is the new thing.

So join now!

Northern Downpour (Panic at the Disco)

January 8, 2009
If all our life is but a dream
Fantastic posing greed
Then we should feed our jewelery to the sea
For diamonds do appear to be
Just like broken glass to me

And then she said she can't believe
Genius only comes along
In storms of fabled foreign tongues
Tripping eyes, and flooded lungs
Northern downpour sends its love

Hey moon, please forget to fall down
Hey moon, don't you go down

Sugarcane in the easy mornin'
Weathervanes my one and lonely

The ink is running toward the page
It's chasin' off the days
Look back at boat feet
And that winding knee
I missed your skin when you were east
You clicked your heels and wished for me

Through playful lips made of yarn
That fragile Capricorn
Unraveled words like moths upon old scarves
I know the world's a broken bone
But melt your headaches, call it home

Hey moon, please forget to fall down
Hey moon, don't you go down

Sugarcane in the easy mornin'
Weathervanes my one and lonely
Sugarcane in the easy mornin'
Weathervanes my one and lonely
Sugarcane in the easy mornin'
Weathervanes my one and lonely

Sugarcane (hey moon) in
(Hey moon) the easy mornin'
Weathervanes (hey moon) my
(Hey moon) one and lonely

Sugarcane (hey moon) in (hey moon)
The easy (hey moon) mornin'
Weathervanes (hey moon) my (hey moon)
One (hey moon) and lonely

[Continues in background:]
Sugarcane (hey moon) in (hey moon)
The easy (hey moon) mornin'
Weathervanes (hey moon) my (hey moon)
One (hey moon) and lonely

Hey moon, please forget to fall down
Hey moon, don't you go down
You are at the top of my lungs
Drawn to the ones who never yawn

Hey moon, please forget to fall down
Hey moon, don't you go down
You are at the top of my lungs
Drawn to the ones who never yawn



January 7, 2009

September 23, 2008 � Kelly John D. Mahipus

For the reviewer, the coming of the colonizers is the start of the masquerade. Many have worn different masks. When they try to remove them, they just find they can�t.

Identity crisis.

The Filipino as Spaniard, the Filipino as American, the Filipino as Japanese � when is the Filipino going to be himself? He has worn so many masks; appearance is difficult to distinguish from reality. But the mimic, no matter how expert must, sooner or later, be himself. The act must stop, when the lights go out, in the loneliness of his room, in the loneliness of his soul.

For centuries Filipinos had constantly to prepare a face to meet the faces that they meet: those of their new rulers. Protective coloration is the scientific term for it (thanks wiki!). Protective coloration tends to be, with human beings, overprotective. The Filipino who would survive Spanish rule tried to be more Spanish than the Spaniard, more �Catholic� than those who brought the faith here.

The Spanish or American regime produced a grinding sense of incompetence in the Filipino: before so much Spanish or American know-how, he could only feel overwhelmed. How could he ever be as good as a Spaniard or an American? If he could not be one, however, he could seem to be one. Hence, the cultivation of Spanish and American ways, including their language and (*coughs*) accent. The Filipino would be indistinguishable from Spanish or American � in the dark. After all, one woman is equally so from another under the same condition.

The motivation here is obviously not protective but something else. Not fear but admiration is the compulsion. No people ever came under a foreign rule that went for it with such enthusiasm as Filipinos did for the Spaniards and Americans after the initial brutalities. When independence came, it brought no great rejoicing but nostalgia and regret.

Admiration however, is all very well, but it leads to what? The thing admired is not the admirer. Filipinos who go to the US � this is all they need to realize that they are not, in spite of having elevated Americanism to a religion, Americans. They are not Americans at all. But what are they? They are filled with an overwhelming sense of not belonging; they would go home � but what is home? What is the Philippines? What is the Filipino? An imitation American�

The question arises: What is the Filipino after he has been stripped of his many disguises, of his successive masks?

But the attempt to recover their past self � the Filipino before he was called a Filipino, before the Spaniards, Americans, Japanese made him ever � has produced only a thriving business in old images. Air-conditioned mansions now display more or less authentic examples of folk art. Westernized Filipinos find the �exciting� � that is the operative world. And, indeed, the na�ve against the ornate � it is exciting, they suppose, as black stockings on the white thighs of an expensive prostitute.

The Filipino-as-Filipino is, somehow, unconvincing. It is like to write English entirely in �English,� that is, by avoiding words that are not of Anglo-Saxon origin. The foreign, however, becomes in time even more native than the native; to exclude words of foreign origin from one�s speech is to be, if not completely unintelligible, certainly affected. The Filipino who would act as if the Spaniards and the Americans had never been here should go about in a G-string.

Is there no identity, then, to be usefully recovered � or manufactured? They were much impressed, some time ago, by images of Mary and Joseph in a church in the Visayas; they were presented as Filipinos. They had known the two, who were Jews, with features derived from Italian renaissance. They were impressed by the new presentations, but it has less meaning for us than Mary and Joseph as Europeans. The old images had not been replaced in our hearts by the native version.

Whatever he was, he is. Whatever he pretends to be, if he pretends long enough, he becomes.

His masks become his nature. When he tries to remove them, he finds he can�t. If he could, the face underneath would prove to be the same as the masks. The Filipino is all he has tried to be, the masks he has put on. To be a Filipino is not a simple thing but a great confusion, a matter of great complexity, which is only a way of saying what it is to be a man. The native returns, but only to himself. The inescapable one.

To cultivate the virtues of honesty, industry and justice, to learn how to love is to be human.  To be a Filipino, in the best sense of the word.  Whether as Spaniard or American or Japanese, or as nationalist, the Filipino must reckon with himself at last. He has no excuse for what he does; he should blame nobody but himself for hat he is. If he has courage, he is brave; if he is honest, he is true; if he loves justice, he is descent; and if he loves rather than hates, he is at ease. The rest is merely economics, politics, and the movies.

Thus, with the coming of the colonizers – Spaniards, Americans, and Japanese � many Filipinos have joined the masquerade. And now, they don�t know their way home.

Jubilate on the eve of the New Year

December 31, 2008

FIREWORKS, family gatherings around midnight, and fellowship and goodwill in communities are expected tonight as we welcome the New Year.

With the customary revelry comes the anticipation that the New Year will bring more blessings, an optimism that is part of the character of Filipinos that has served us well, in good and not so good times.

Many of the traditions that accompany our New Year’s Eve celebration will be observed by families – from the dozen round fruits on the dinner table that are believed to bring good luck, to polka dots on clothes that do the same, to the encouragement for children to jump as high as they can so that they would gain more height in the New Year. Turning on all the lights in the house and opening all windows and doors are supposed to invite all the good spirits in. These practices add a folk dimension to a jubilant celebration.

Children and adults alike will also troop to the streets to welcome the New Year. We do hope that in doing so, they will heed the advice of the Department of Health to stay clear of danger, to make noise without the risk of injuring themselves.

Although the incidence of fireworks-related injuries and death has declined over the years, proof that the Department of Health’s Iwas Paputok campaign has worked, there is really no reason for any one to bid the year goodbye and welcome the New Year in a hospital.

Beyond these practices, however, one must not neglect the fundamental truth, that the New Year is a blessing from the Almighty and those of us who remain faithful must welcome the year not only with revelry but with reverence to His grace.

Single Ladies (lyrics) – Beyonce

December 17, 2008

All the single ladies (7x)
Now put your hands up
Up in the club, just broke up
I’m doing my own little thing
Decided to dip but now you wanna trip
Cuz another brother noticed me
I’m up on him, he up on me
Don’t pay him any attention
Cried my tears, three good years
Ya can’t be mad at me[Chorus]
Cuz if you liked it then you should have put a ring on it
If you liked it then you should have put a ring on it
Don’t be mad once you see that he want it
If you liked it then you should have put a ring on it

I put gloss on my lips, a man on my hips
Hold me tighter than my Dereon jeans
Acting up, drink in my cup
I could care less what you think
I need no permission, did I mention
Don’t pay him any attention
Cuz you had your turn
But now you gonna learn
What it really feels to miss me


Don’t treat me like things of this world
I’m not that kind of girl
Your love is what I prefer, what I deserve
He’s a man that makes me and takes me
And delivers me to a destiny, to infinity and beyond
Pull me into your arms
Say I’m not the one you own
If you don’t, you’ll be alone
And like a ghost, I’ll be gone

All the single ladies (7x)
Now put your hands up



December 10, 2008

They say I should wear orange. Too bright for me.

They say go out with us.  Ain’t too sociable.

They say eat with us. Too expensive.

They say I  mustn’t be silent. I’m a man of few words.

They say I must know that. I really do.

They say don’t be silly. Who isn’t?

They say I can do it. They did. I didn’t.

They say be happy. I’m sad at times.

They say don’t refuse. I don’t know how.

They say I’m funny. They knew I am.

They say I’m a good friend. Can’t feel they are.


I’m looking for another THEY.