Erratum

I know, I know. There are dozens of typos and errors in usage in this blog. I think fast, type even faster and so my punctuation and usage sometimes most often falters.

As for my spelling... my spelling really sucks. It has nothing to do with the speed at which I think or type.

I realize the problem, readers. And I strive to improve myself. For something like this, knowing you have a problem is half the battle (not unlike alcoholism).

And so I re-read the blog and proof for typos and whatnot. I tighten sentences here and there while I'm at it. Usually a post goes up twice or three times, before all most of the errors are corrected.

Bear with me, W.I.M. I'm on the case.

You can't make this stuff up

I have to admit I was deeply saddened by this news of Anna Nicole Smith's untimely death. She was a real character and her passing gives people less to talk about while having their hair permed. Well, for a couple of weeks her passing will really give some people something to talk about. But on the long term, less.

There are many things I liked about her. First she had that three name thing going on. Who is Anna Smith? Who is Nicole Smith? But we all know who Anna Nicole Smith is.

Then there were those shamlessly fake boobs, hair, nails and skin color. She showed the world that artificial beauty is beauty nonetheless.

She did what all women secretly want to do: marry an old man for money. Marrying a guy your age for money is just tragic. That's a whole lifetime of regret and quasi-prostitution. Marry an old geezer worth a billion dollars who does you the favor of croaking in 14 months, that's a love story.

Her life was like a good soap opera or a bad Sidney Sheldon novel:

She was born in a small town outside Dallas and was raised by a single mom. At 17, while working as a waitress at Jim's Krispy Fried Chicken in Mexia, she met Billy Wayne Smith (note the three name thing again), the short-order cook at the restaurant. They married and had a son. They divorced within a year and Anna Nicole supported herself and her son by stripping becoming an exotic dancer. She worked hard and in the end she came out on top (pun intended). She became a Playboy Playmate.

More than 20 years after her son is born she gives birth in the Bahamas to a daughter she names Hope. A few days after the child's birth, the grown son visits Anna Nicole and Hope in the hospital. He dies in Anna Nicole's hospital room from what would be discovered as a lethal combination of Zoloft, Lexapro and methadone.

Two weeks after her son's demise Anna Nicole weds lawyer Howard Stern (his real name, but not the shock jock) on a boat. Well, not really weds. A commitment ceremony of sorts.

Less than 6 months later, she will be found dead in a hotel room in Florida.

I wonder who will play her in the Movie of the Week special.

You know when you're in a Filipino wake when...

1. There's lots of Zesto. Exactly when Zesto became the juice drink of choice for wakes, we will never know. But the fact remains that Zesto has cornered the wake market.

2. The flower arrangements are horrendous. I don't know why some enterprising Chinoy hasn't put up a flower shop that sells non-tacky funeral wreaths. And why do flower shops insist on using glitter and gaudy ribbons to let people know who wasted their money to purchase such incredibly ugly arrangements? These are the questions that keep me up at night.

3. There's enough food to feed a private army. Grieving family members greet visitors with the question, "Have you eaten?" As if people go to wakes to have dinner. At one wake I was at a couple of years ago, there were actually waiters serving full course meals.

4. Complete strangers come to visit. I consider wakes and funerals to be very private family affairs. Unfortunately, in the Philippines, when word gets out that someone has died, his/her tailor's third cousin usually shows up to "pay their respects". Why people go to wakes of those they hardly know I will never understand. The male parental unit says it's to show support for the grieving family members. While that may be true, why do these strangers need to look at the body with a sadness like they've lost their right foot to gangrene. Get over yourselves. You did not know the deceased.

5. Snacks are passed around at hourly intervals. In case you did not partake of the full course meal, snacks are distributed every 60 minutes. Mamon, ensaymada, hard candies, and of course, Zesto.

6. Mass cards are displayed. Because really, we want to know which set of cloistered nuns are praying for the deceased's soul. And how often and for how long they will pray.

7. The more masses, the merrier. Because one mass a day won't get you through the pearly gates.

8. People don't talk about the dead guy in the room. Of the conversations that go on during wakes, about 5% are about the deceased. 95% are about everything else. At the wake I was at last night, there was a guy obsessed about squatters and convinced Gawad Kalinga had to take over the Philippine housing shortage. Show some respect, people.

9. Guests never leave. Why people want to sit in a room with stinky flowers (I'm not going for the obvious here) for hours and hours I will never understand. Letting a friend know you're there for them should take about an hour, max.

Full circle

I am a creature of habit and routine. I get up at the same time every morning without an alarm clock. I sleep at the same time. I have a routine when I get up, work, have lunch, leave the office, get home.

I like sticking to a schedule. It relaxes me. There's something satisfying about knowing what comes next. It's like watching a movie you've seen before. Re-reading Shakespeare.

But then sometimes you need to travel, and your routines run out of whack. You get up in a hotel room, go to a place you've never been before, meet new people, discuss new things. You don't know what lunch is until lunch time. You don't know when the day will end, what you will be doing in 3 hours.

I get antsy when breaking my routine. I feel like I'm missing out on something. I am constantly thinking of what other thing I should be doing; what the routine says I should be doing.

But after a few days I let go, and living outside of the routine is a pleasant, sometimes wonderful experience. You respond to things as they occur, not by anticipating the inevitable. You examine things for the first time and then put them aside for yet other things. Everything is new and stimulating. You think of so many things at once, not enough to have a meaningful insight about any one thing, but it does not matter. You're on the go.

And when you get that way, when you're gliding over things and not paying attention to detail, your natural reaction is to stop.

You stop and delve into things and inquire. You do this slowly, methodically, purposefully. You establish a pattern of thought and behavior. A method of examining the world around you.

And before you know it, you're back at your routine.

Top 10 Reasons to Enjoy Manila*

10. You speak the language and read the signage.

9. You can speed and violate all sorts of traffic rules with impunity. (And I'm not talking about bribing law enforcment officers. I'm talking about the fact that apart from going past a red light and the occassional swerving violation, traffic offenses are not prosecuted in Manila.)

8. The sky is big and it is blue.

7. Trees are perfect. (If you have a good eye and look out for them.)

6. Massages.

5. Endless conversation over cups of coffee and overpriced buko juice.

4. Family and friends.

3. Red Horse beer.

2. Sisig

1. Fresh oysters.

* Not necessarily in order. But it could be.

Kina-career

I love how Filipinos give regular words new definitions.

Take the word "salvage". Salvage means to save, to recover. In the Philippines, it means to kill a person and then to dump the dead person's body in a grassy knoll or along a dark street.

I was thinking of other equally "novel" uses of otherwise rather ordinary words, when i came upon this Wikipedia article. It's not the greatest collection of "Filipinized" English terms, but you get the picture.

And so today's post is about the word "kina-career", yet another intriguing Philippine idiomatic creation. It means to apply oneself unto an endeavor so fully and with so much focus and determination, it is as if that activity is one's life-long career or profession.

But to fully express the irony that the term "kina-career" is supposed to contain, you need to use it to describe how a person attacks a rather ordinary task.

Like opening a jar. Or getting a car to start. Collecting Happy Meal toys. You don't let up until you get what you want.

"Kina-reer nya yung pag ko-kross stitch nya. Kaya ayan-- may mantel na siya."

Personally, I think the most appropriate/funny use of "kina-reer" or "kina-career" is to describe a single woman's quest for a husband. These women apply 100% of their time, energy and emotion towards bagging a husband. I find these woman fascinating. They are at once kind, cunning, manipulative, pathetic, and sad.

x x x

And in case you think I have not noticed, I do realize that I have not blogged for about a week. Don't worry. Kina-career ko na ang blog na ito.

Illiterate

I'm not reading.

I haven't been reading.

This is not a good thing.

After work I go on-line or watch a video or surf channels on tv while thinking about the next day's activities.

I'm not reading.

At work I read a lot, a hella-lot but a lot of offering documents and contracts to purchase energy and orderly marketing agreements... they don't count.

I need to start reading books again.

Why I keep my Globe number

I spend a ridiculous amount of money keeping my Globe number. It's Manila based, so I'm on roaming 24/7. But I don't care. Why? Because some days, I get texts like this:

Saw this on the back of a taxi. Deep, pare.

TELL DEATH DO US PART. JUST CALL MY NAME RICHARD.

OR

A furniture shop in the US called "Sofa King" advertises, "Our prices are sofa-king low!" I love it!

Pivotal Questions

These 10 questions originally came from a French series, "Bouillon de Culture" hosted by Bernard Pivot.

Now they're better known as the questions that James Lipton asks every guest at the end of "Inside the Actor's Studio".

1. What is your favorite word?

Yes.


2. What is your least favorite word?

Pain.

Trivia: Cousin T.'s least favorite word is "merienda"


3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

Good writing I was not expecting.


4. What turns you off?

Arrogant idiots who have nothing between their ears.


5. What is your favorite curse word?

PUTA FUCK (said together, really fast, and really loud)


6. What sound or noise do you love?

Philip talking.


7. What sound or noise do you hate?

An alarm clock going off.


8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Op-ed columnist for the NYT


9. What profession would you not like to do?

Sailor. Macau Tower bunjee jump operator. Elevator operator.


10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Pwede bang what I don't want to hear? I don't want to hear:

"I can't find your name on the list."

"I think there's been a mistake."

(Speaking to Mother Teresa who's come in ahead of me) "I'm sorry lady, but you just haven't done enough."

An Open Letter to HK Women

1. Please stop curling or coloring your hair.

You have such beautiful, shiny and straight black hair. Thousands of animals have died so that scientists can create products that replicate Asian hair. I have personally spent a small forture trying to keep my hair straight. You on the other hand, persist on curling your hair (and not all the way through, mind you, only from the nape down). Please stop.

And what's with this desire to be blond? Well, no, I understand this. I too want to be blond. But blond while being Caucasian and at least 5"10 (with Nordic features). I don't want to be me with blond hair. That would look funny. Hint. Hint.

2. Please stop wearing boots.

Exposed boots are not flattering on women with short legs. And I'm sorry, we're all short. Anything under 5"8 (and a 115 lbs) is too short for the whole boots tucked into pants look or boots with skirt look.

3. The 80's are not back.

Please stop wearing the over sized purple sweaters with wide belt hanging loosely from the hips. This look went out with Irene Cara. And even she did not wear boots with this outfit.

4. Please stop being thin.

Ok, I admit, this is a personal peeve. How can you guys stay so skinny? The food's so good here!