Brain Contour

I was browsing TV channels tonight and happened to land on the KESD public channel with the Worldfocus broadcast. Worldfocus featured a short clip of the US-Philippines relationship, which they described as a love-hate relationship.

Watch the video below. This is so short a clip that I don’t think it is enough to describe how we Filipinos share friendship with the Americans.

My little brother, Jeffrey, who works in Manila, was among the thousands of people affected by the tropical storm “Ondoy” (international codename: Ketsana) that hit the Philippines this weekend. After my sister (in Illinois) and I heard about the worsening situation in Manila due to flooding caused by the torrential rains, we immediately contacted our brother, but to no avail. His phone, and all his friends’ phones, were unreachable. We posted messages on Facebook hoping other friends and relatives could somehow trace our brother’s whereabouts.

Last night, we finally got a note that my brother and some others were trapped in the second floor of a two-story house. Water on the first floor was about chest-high.

My Collegian column this week.

Roosters here are known as gamecocks in the Philippines. Sundays can be celebrated in so many ways by so many common Filipinos living in faraway towns. It is the day off for most house helpers and they usually enjoy their free time at town plazas. It is the day for the faithful to go and hear mass. It is also the best day for a “sabungero” to exercise his gamecocks. For the locals, the smell of fighting cocks, the sight of tricycles parked in already crowded streets, the sound of people shouting for bets … all tells the same thing: There’s got to be a derby going on.

I am a Filipino. I was born in Argao. The place has yet to be swayed by civilization and advancement or exploitation perhaps.

In that southern part of Cebu, Philippines, houses are situated beneath green slopes, mostly concealed under a lush shade that seems to have existed long before my great-grandfathers. My own home lies up the field, a kilometer or so away from the town proper and across meadows.

I write about national issues and also about touching lives. This is about two of my Filipino friends, Sharon and Mimi.

The oil-rich Saudi Arabia became Sharon’s home right after her college graduation. As an entertainer in a foreign land, money fills her purse with no trouble at all when she belts out her songs like no other could. Today, she is as rich as the country she is working in.

Mimi’s talent has brought her to a far away place. I knew it the first time I saw her twist her waist gracefully in a local dance competition. Precisely so, she boogied herself to Japan. For money and family, she dances with pride.

“You are qualified to win the daily lotto, to join please text back……”

I suspect that the number of text messages sent daily is growing very rapidly anywhere around the world. As per estimate, the sent rate is hundreds of billions per annum. With its wide coverage, text messaging has been the target of spammers, and text spamming is becoming a bigger problem than e-mail-based spam.

For over a year of owning a phone in the U.S., there were only few instances that I received text spams from the network provider. This is in contrast to what David Lazarus said in his article for the San Francisco Chronicle that millions of SMS spams are circulating already in the U.S., of which younger cell phone users who send the most text messages are usually targeted. What’s more, many cell phone subscribers face the double whammy of having to pay 10 cents for every text message received, whether read or unread, solicited or unsolicited.

My column for the March 4 issue of this paper entitled “One too many beers changed this life forever” spawned quite a frenzy from readers who thought I was glorifying a rapist. To those who commented and reacted, thank you for raising the questions that I obviously failed to answer in the previous article. At this point, I do not even need a second thought to write part 2.

Did I write the column to glorify the rapist Smith? Or was it to say Nicole, the victim, lied about the rape? No, for the first, and yes, for the second. I am against rape, but I am also against injustice. I am for truth, I do not condone lies. What people might have read from online reports were products of Nicole’s ivy poisoning each and every fragile mind of her dishonesty. She managed to make people believe she was raped. Truth of the matter, she was not.

Say you found a stranger very attractive (however you define attractive). Would you want to have sex before or after gulping bottles of beer?

Sex under the influence of beer is common and easy. All you need to do is get yourself drunk (10 bottles will suffice) and in a matter of hours you’ll find yourself on someone else’s bed, most likely with the stranger you often exchange smiles with in the bar, whom you lusted or dreamed so long to be with. Make sure that both of you are extremely intoxicated so that the alcohol will do all the thinking, talking and the strategic planning of where and how you would perform the sex escapade – hmmm, in the car, at the park, beside a big rock, behind a pine tree, in the garage or just to make it sound so nice, in the comfort of your own room.