22,500 words a day

Let's do some math.

If we travel for 2 hours every day from home to office or school and from the workplace to our homes, then we spend 120 minutes hailing transportation and riding, right?

If we read an average of 250 words per minute, and spend around 30 minutes walking or waiting for the shuttle in a way that it's almost impossible to do anything else, then we can still spend 90 minutes in idleness inside a transport.

What's the point? The point is, if are able enough to read inside a moving vehicle where we spend an hour and a half a day, then we can read 22,500 words a day. And if the average length of a novel is around 100,000 words, then we can finish a whole novel-length book in 5 days!

Of course, those who drive can listen to audio books or downloaded talks in audio format from TED.com. I haven't gotten the stats for that, but that's just about the same point.

'Cause the point is, there's just too much time we waste every day when we can accomplish some more.



22,500 words a day for culture.

Market shift

It feels weird I'm blogging again. It's as if I actually have time to do this as regularly as before. But I try, right? Especially now that I'm afraid I'd lose my writing skills I constantly relied on when I was in college. Now, that is weird, referring to college in the past tense. It's like being all grown up now, ready for the world and all. Who are we kidding?

What's weirder, is that I have these new modules in my My Yahoo! page.



And if you're on my My Yahoo! page, it says a lot. It says you've reached a whole new level in my criteria of immediate concerns, a.k.a. you've had me at hello.

No to the corporate world! I ate my words. I should have known how to never say never. #

After my longest "hiatus" ever

I'M BACK.


Sort of. Or so I think. #

Baby, it's 3 AM I must be lonely

But I'm not.
Even if my college days are over.
Now I'm tempted to write a long, tear-inducing, jaw-clenching, mind-bending, manic-raving, big-grinning, tributary, autobiographical blog post about people, places and memories but I won't. You know why?

'Cause I'd sound like The Steps' "5, 6, 7, 8" and it's a social crime.

Ironically though, instead of feeling free and unbusy, there are just so many things left to do. Like I know I'm at the point of flipping the page for the next chapter but I realize there are several paragraphs I missed out that have to be read so I can connect elements in this part of the book with the next and so the story is left hanging while the chapter has to be started in the best possible circumstance and with right dispositions. Got it?



Or maybe it's simply these: A blank page to write on. A happiness to discover. A change to embrace.

Graduation day, here we come. #

In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of BACHELOR OF ARTS IN JOURNALISM

Reproduced without permission from the authors:

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Mimi:

This year-long pursuit for truth was not a one-man effort. With that, I am deeply grateful to the following:

My partner, Absie, whose undying optimism made the grind easy to bear. Our adviser, Prof. Yvonne Chua, whose guidance and encouragement inspired and shaped our work. Our sources from the maritime and education sectors had been patient and generous with their time and resources. My parents and sisters, besides being my only fans, have been a constant source of joy and sanity. My friends in the College and in Bellecroft formed a collective comfort zone. And Daniw Center provided a “restful haven for one to be authentically human” (Ocampo, 2006).

--

Absie:

Sailing the sea of thesis writing is hard enough. And with an ocean-deep topic such as the MLC controversy, you can definitely feel like you’re going to drown. Fortunately, the entire experience was never solitary. And I’d like to thank the following people who kept me afloat.

~Mimi, for being the perfect thesis partner and for the conscience who kept nagging me to commit SIN (the name of our thesis) when I don’t want to anymore. I know you wouldn’t graduate without this. ~Friends, for the unsinkable ship. ~Family, for being anchors, when I need stability. ~Ma’am Chua, for being our lighthouse, shedding light to guide us and even hope, with every e-group message, when we’re lost at sea. ~The government and all its bureaucratic layers, for creating the MLC storm in the first place and the rough seas we had to ride. ~The seafarers, for being the wind that blows our sail. ~The movement, for the hope of one day reaching the shores of national democracy. #

Writing the end is as hard as starting

Actual paragraph my thesis partner and I wrote in Methodological Issues part of the last chapter:

"Since the issue of the MLC spanned a period of seven years and involved several bureaucratic agents, research employed significant archival digging and context building to establish the scope and limitations of our brains."

Dig lang ng dig, okay?

Okay lang 'yan, James Blake, okay lang

Oo, napatalsik na naman kami. Third round pa lang 'yon sa Indian Wells. Masakit pero nangyari na ang nangyari. Yun nga lang minsan, parang game! tapos makikita mo na lang, unti-unti, parang manghihina na ulit. Alam naman ng lahat na si Santiago ang isa sa mga bihirang manlalaro na may kakayahang sipain si Federer in two sets of three. Pero kasing hirap ko lang 'yata magsulat sa Tagalog, ganong kadali matalo ng mga unheard-of players ang bet ko.

Bakit ganon? Inconsistency, pare.

Kung babagkasin ang kasaysayan, 'di pala nag-iisa si James, pati ang mga naging paborito kong atleta inconsistent din tulad ni Peja at Hantuchova. Para bang one shot deal. Mapapahanga ka at mapapanganga for a period of time, tapos gano'n na lang. Talento at lakas? Meron. Follow through? Wala.

Ganito ka rin James. The fact na sinusuportahan kita kahit ano'ng mangyari ay nagsasabi din ng maraming bagay tungkol sa'kin. Lalo na ngayon na wala ka na sa top 10, na 'di ka makapanalo ng five-set matches, na nakukuntento ka lang sa pagpapahanga ng audience sa bilis at talsik ng bolang tinatamaan mo, na kapag mahirap 'yon bang na akala mo wala ka nang mabubuga dahil halos limitado na ang nalalabi mong araw sa laro.

James, hindi 'yan nasusukat sa awesomeness o sa angas o sa experience. Feeling mo ba ayos lang na itapon ang laro kapag umaabante na ang kalaban? Dahil ba magte-trenta ka na at sa larangan ng tennis ay 100 years old ka na? Hindi, James. Kaya mo pa eh, obvious naman. Konting inspirasyon lang siguro (para sa fans lang ba) o mahigpit na coaching (at coaxing). Dudepare, consistency lang 'yan.

Madaling magsalita dahil nanonood lang ako. Ang nakakagulat dito ay ...
ikaw at ako, Blake, pareho. #

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photo credit: tennischick.net
Kudos for the Blake commentary!

The Urban Patriot

There is an industry. There is art. There is a wonderful country.

And nobody else wanted to shout this more than Francis Magalona, the man of the moment, "The Man from Manila." Everything on TV is him now and I think it's just proper. Real visionaries deserve more than that. And this is not even to credit him yet as a person outside the world of show. From what I've heard and have been hearing, and through encounters with his family, it's all approval.

I feel like a loser for not having known his contributions to the industry and the nation while he was still alive. I loved "Kaleidoscope World" though, and I remember my high school friends Saab or Frank shrugging away expressive admirers of their great dad. I guess they're too used to it and they tried hard to look for ways to say it's already a given. Like there's no question the man is admired and loved and that's the way it has always been. We've heard all about it, humor us.



I give it to you, Francis M! The last post-humous tribute I wrote in this blog was for the previous Pope. I'm proud to have met you even just once. Thank you for giving us the music. I mean, I think I wouldn't be known as the rapper among my friends if I wasn't inspired by your performances. Hihi. Your family is one of the most generous I know. No doubt you grew it. #

Caught in the undertow

At least two people outside the maritime industry believe the seas can be the country's key to regain spot as a minor economic power -- that's me and my thesis partner. For almost a year now, we've been working on an investigative report on some unnecessary training courses government agencies have imposed on our esteemed seafarers. They are burdened, misled and taken advantage of. And they don't deserve any of it.

It's not a very well known fact that the country is the top provider of seafarers in the world. We power the global shipping industry that conducts around 90 percent of world trade. The field is lucrative and bustling that it continually demands involvement of more people. And Filipinos happen to be the men for the job. For heck's sake, we are surrounded with water and we've been trading our abundant gold across seas long before Magellan met Datu Humabon. Seafaring runs the Pacific, as it does in our veins.



I admit the project's somewhat ambitious for two inexperienced journalism students. We started out with a hunch and a clue then pursued it aimlessly, banking on luck and hope -- and some wits, of course. For the longest time, I've feared we've just been making things up and connecting dots that don't exist. After all, the human mind in pride plays tricks and comes up with the grandest rubbish passed for brilliance.

Still, we pushed on, with the intention of covering an area unexplored by mainstream press and therefore also unknown to many. But what we value the most is the thought that the welfare of thousands of seafarers and their families depend on our report's potential fruits. However unworthy and vulnerable we seem to be, we can be all they got.

For now though, nil. It does get frustrating and challenging sometimes. We know the names, we have the faces, but we lack evidence. Once we nail it, we'll hammer it on, but we don't have enough lumber yet to construct the big picture.

AND WE HAVE TWO WEEKS.
Graduation's in a month and we should be on our way to journalism superstardom.

I think, since we started out with a noble intention, we should stick with them. It's our lifeline, after all, and it seems there is no other way to do it. Competition, distraction and ambition sometimes get in the way. What we need though is faith, hope and genuine concern for others. And no, this is not about being religious. #

Note: Selected proper nouns are deliberately left unmentioned to protect sources and crucial information from notorious Googlers. Thank you.
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Photo: fc55.deviantart.com

Big Fat Geek Website

My friend Karen and I were in a conference just this week and we were asked by panelists if we believe the media can educate. For us, it wasn't even a question, but a given. Why should it be? If a significant part of our formal education is reading books and receiving information from them, then aren't the media also regarded and treated the same way? Why put such distinction? Books are primarily a medium, a channel and storage of information. The media aren't called mediums collectively if they don't do the exact same thing.

I just advised a research paper for UNIV on the youth's participation in YouTube. The ideal is, of course, to use the website as an educational resource. But as a primarily commercial entity, YouTube is mainly utilized for entertainment and is therefore not maximized as an information website.

Thing is, we can forget about YouTube once we've met TED.


Technology. Entertainment. Design.

TED started in 1984 as a conference that brings together some of the most influential and brilliant minds in these fields and get them to talk. Like you know torture them to extract their secrets, like that. For more or less 20 minutes, accompanied by slide show presentations, they give the talk of their lives. Since then, TED has expanded to cover virtually all fields that include literature, health and values. And now it has a website that shares these talks to the world and licensed with Creative Commons for the extra generosity.

I discovered TED.com through my good friend Noreen who once showed me and my friends a video featuring Ken Robinson on how schools kill creativity. It's one of the most interesting speeches I heard in a while and so I started paying TED a regular visit to download and watch talks of leading figures in my favorite fields: design, technology, art, the media. Only on my moments of rest, of course, and fine also sometimes of distraction. 'Cause it's such an addicting preoccupation, like you can't really get enough from these walking geniuses on the face of the earth.

If you've been reading my blog, maybe you've noticed I have a particular admiration for mega bestselling author Elizabeth Gilbert. Okay, I haven't read any of her books or anything but I've heard some addresses she gave through YouTube and the like.


Here she gives a talk on genius and how it shouldn't be regarded as of an individual. It's too egoistic, she says, to think such immense creativity only comes from a meager self. She instead attributes it to the divine, sort of like going back to how ancient Greeks regard it to be. Old in concept, yes, but some things should really be made to last. #

"Atheism – sleep in on Sunday mornings."

Says an anti-God poster as part of a near-worldwide Good for Goodness' Sake campaign.

We say plain dumb.
If there was no God, we'd be working on Sundays too. Because Nothingness didn't rest on the 7th day.



Wanna be cool?
Jump aboard Darwin's bandwagon. It's like wearing skinny jeans -- your silhouette's just like everyone else's. It's a fad, the heck, and like all fads, it will eventually go kaput. Then appear again then off again.

While religion has been the in thing for two centuries now -- and counting.

Don't be vulnerable. Don't be a cop-out. Don't go dawkin' and hitchenin' with strangers. They're not smarter than most of us.

Plus, they're just too preachy. #

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photo from dangerousintersection.org

Let's

Another one of those ads.

Now, let's.



Alright. #


Disclaimer: This post does NOT promote agnosticism. It's only meant to be a pun. Oh what pun!

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image 1 from richarddawkins.net
image by author

Today is just so Green

I almost forgot I love Green Day until I heard "Warning" in the car earlier.
And to make up for it, I shall blog about them today.

I mean, I know all their hit songs. For a rock band, I understand them quite well. Like I love Coldplay too much but I don't get them sometimes. Coldplay's all symbols with a cerebral aesthetic and experimental guise, sort of a post-impressionist, Fauvist art (and I sound like I really know what I'm talking about). While Green Day is comparable with Warhol or Lichtenstein. Their imagery is all too familiar, mainstream in a sense, but you can understand why it's art. Social critique like that, leftist at times, moral-spiritual on occasion, dilemmas and all.

Being a punk rock outfit, Green Day curses and name drops chemicals ("I'm blowing off steam with methamphetamine'), to show the world they're cool and rebellious, and therefore likable. But they also come up with lyrics like those in "Good Riddance" that accompanied me when it was time to make hard calls:

Another turning point a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question but a lesson learned in time.

See? As if they're guidance counselors in all black and hair wax. But they sure have heart.

For what it's worth, it was worth all the while.
It's something unpredictable but in the end it's right.
I hope you have the time of your life.

Few words and I feel like my life story has been told, ironically by guys I'd undoubtedly run away from if met on the street. Because they look so bad. Cool bad.


#

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photo from www.smellslikelalternative.com

Yesterday was good news

then why should today be any different?

First up, had my over-delayed braces taken off yesterday and I feel like a new man. Although I realized I'm a quite toothy person, much like Willy Wonka, it's liberation to smile without metal brackets that make even smirking a pain.
I was also able to finish a couple of designs in the morning and I finally got to spill the beans to a friend after a long week. I went home to a hearty dinner with my family for Mom's birthday, go pistachio cake and good wine my Dad almost drowned me with. Two new puppies - christened Mocha and Oreo - also arrived in their new home. They stink, but they're awful cute. We ended the evening with The Dark Knight I've been dying to watch for centuries. Before I went to sleep, I received a text message from my research partner and informed me our paper got accepted as finalist in a congress this February.

All's well that ends well.

I'm now home from Katipunan. I had to return to the Center several times early this evening especially after my wallet and pencil case (with my new makeup and possibly jewelery in it) got nicked. Here's my Dad's wrath because of the money lost. Earlier that day, I forgot to eat lunch 'cause all I had in mind was to get to the Center to chill and read today's news. After, I slept through half my science class, missing bulk of the lecture. I left my cellphone at home too, while I've been waiting for important messages for job interviews since yesterday. After checking it now, only one has replied, and it wasn't even for me.

But my friend says omnia in bonum - everything for the good. And so it is.

I met several people along the way today - strangers, the kind I'd never befriend and normally wouldn't trust. After my stuff got snatched and I didn't have a single cent, I walked into a humble cafeteria and asked the owner if I could use the phone. I told him I couldn't pay but it wouldn't take long. I called mother, but I knew I had to ride back to Bellecroft or to the Center to save my neck somehow. I didn't have money for a trike ride, of course, and so the owner offered some money. I refused though, that's pride I admit, and cheerfully told him I'd ask someone from my dorm to lend me some once I get off.

In the end I still had to go home. It's the main priority on a Friday, you see, especially now that I had to make it up to my parents. I slept in the jeepney the entire journey from Quezon City to Antipolo, and I looked all washed-out and grim I bet. The driver's assistant, a middle-aged man with three daughters as I learned, took pity on me and offered to assist me to the trike station three blocks away. I had bulky luggage so he helped me with those too. I told him my story and he offered fare for my last ride home. I readily refused again.

Wow, I thought. People are kind, and the kindest of them all happen to be the most unlikely. Despite Gaza, despite the Alabang Boys, despite thieves targeting broke and unemployed college students, despite Communist professors. There's hope. There's good news. #

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photo from forgotston.com