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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.

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Tuesday, March 20, 2007

entry arrow2:06 PM | Thoughts Trail Off as They Come Along...



I'm browsing through Friendster and one of my friends has this photo of him having dinner with The Imelda. At first, I was fascinated ("Wow, Popong is having a sit-down dinner with Mrs. Marcos..."), but the discerning (really?) political animal in me soon kicked in, and I had to wonder: if I were in a social situation with the former dragon lady, what would I do, given what we know of history? I've always said that Filipinos are particularly tragic for their capacity to forget too easily. So if it were me in front of Imelda, would I: (a) grab my fork and knife and carve her up in the name of all victims of martial law? or (b) throw my Italian shoes at her and shout, "Add that to your collection, bitch!" or (c) be dazzled like the rest, and be silent, and treat the past as a sad footnote that should not be a downer for any party? or (d) finish my wine and tell myself, "Yay, sikat na ko. I'm so sosi. I'm dining with Meldy! Here's to all the jealous fuckers back in Dumaguete who called me a social-climbing whore! ... Yes, madam? You like the caviar?"

What would you do?


From Kokak's Diskurso blog...

During our radio program last week, ... I sat with three beauty titlist in Australia. All of them were half Filipinos and half Australians... Needless to say they were all gorgeous. I highly believe that when you mix Pinoy blood with any other race, you almost always come up with that perfect mixture of features. These three beauty titlists were no exception.

When asked about their plans for the next five years, all three responded that they would be going back to the Philippines to pursue their passion for acting, singing, and modelling. The Australian audience isn’t much for oohing and aahing over celebrities. They do scream and go gaga sometimes, but not to the same extent that Filipinos in the Philippines do when in contact with a celebrity.

While they were off air, one of the beauty queens remarked about her experience in Manila. She spends quite a lot of time there (half the year, if I’m correct) and so she’s had more experience about the Filipino atmosphere than the other two beauty queens. She said the first time she went to one of the broadcasting company’s audition building, she couldn’t believe the length of the queue of half-Filipino half-whatevers from all over the world.

When Pinoys breed, they breed big time.

There is honestly no shortage of mestizos in Pinas who want to be on TV and be idolised like every sikat celebrity on TV. She was surprised. But it only strengthened her resolve to learn Tagalog and pursue her dream of being in the spotlight.

Well, for every Sam Milby, you also get a cold, flash-in-the-pan Troy Montero.


A brief history of happiness. An excerpt:

Happiness is linked to such words as happen and happenstance. Greek tragedies were filled with the idea that happiness was a matter of fate.

"The Gods are spiteful and capricious," McMahon said. "Just when you think everything's going well, they pull the rug out from you and send a thunderbolt down."

That began to change with Socrates, but the concept of humans having some control over their own happiness didn't flower until the 18th century.

"If you ask somebody today what happiness is, they'll inevitably tell you that it involves feeling good," McMahon said.

But it meant something more to the Greeks and Romans. Aristotle held that happiness was based on a lifetime of experience. You couldn't really tell if you were happy until you were dead.

Is anybody dead yet?


I should really get back to work. Now.


I posted this as a reply to a comment somewhere below, for a post about existing in a time warp last Saturday, which I felt to be a Sunday -- a feeling I couldn't shake off no matter how hard I tried. But my reply bears repeating. My new theory is that I was abducted by aliens. The same thing happened last week, on a Friday. I was grading a group report for my Philippine Literature class, and I simply could not remember one particular student reporting ever. The weirdest thing was, I was fully awake, and I took copious notes of the proceedings! I asked the student sitting beside me, "Did So-and-so report?" And she said, "Yes, sir. She spoke on the invisibility of Filipino-Americans in the United States." I said, "She did?" But I could not remember anything at all. What happened in those lost minutes? Did I disappear? Did I black out? Did I go to Pluto and back again? Is this an early sign of coming dementia? Crispin! Basilio!


Where in the world is Jessica Zafra? (And why is everybody pointing their finger at me?)


I just realized my second passport expires this year.

Jeez. Didn't even get to use it. Have I been Philippine-bound this long? Where have I been the past four years? Suddenly my feet itch to travel. But first let me renew this damned green book.

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