Justin. Just In.

by Vanessa Hagad - my beloved who writes short, sweet and never too patronizing.

 

With Justin, you either get lost when he’s talking or get lost when he’s driving. The lack of navigational skills though will not stop this future diplomat from getting places. He will get that coveted “Ambassador” title affixed to his name someday and he will be asked, “No, really, you’re from what country?”

 

Justin also has a way with words. He can make the bored interested and the skeptic believe. This budding (more like frustrated) historian always hints of nostalgia for the aristocratic past and contends he was born in the wrong era. However, those who have grown to love the could-have-been-Sugar-Baron are thankful he missed out.

 

But behind that elitist exterior is a man who ultimately wants to serve and give back to his country – yes, the Philippines, where he’s from.

Click on the picture"The name itself, Cubao-X, screams of the exotic, the unknown. It is, to a large extent, Manila’s SoHo or Greenwich, a place where bohemia remains defiantly alive."

 

*Read on the occasion of her 85th birthday, 5 July 2008, Bacolod.

"ANGELES, ka gwapa sa imo," says anyone tantalized by the charm and obvious beauty of Angeles Silos. Her response, a spirited "Of course!," "Natural!," or a demure "Thank you."

Beauty, they say is in the eye of the beholder. But when it comes to Angeles, beauty comes naturally which explains why she seems to be the apple of everyone’s eye. This may sound Imeldific but could very well lie in the fact that Angeles knows she is beautiful and would gladly affirm it every chance she gets.

Born to prominence and raised in La Carlota - what was then the premiere city south of the capital - hers was (and continues to be) a life of revelry. The many suitors, fiestas and romance novels practically made glitz and glamour an almost constant fixture while growing up. Neither did it help how Nenita and her hermanas always had their way even when it came to skipping school once in a while just because they wanted to.

Of course, cutting classes has its own merits – after all, who among the ladies here tonight wouldn’t want to bask in the glory of undivided attention from possible suitors? And for the men, what wouldn’t a bachelor give to have a glimpse of that flawless face and svelte body, strewn across the balustrades of an imposing mansion across the plaza? It would definitely have been a sight to behold and well worth missing a few lessons.

Alas, the war came and the Japanese occupation forced the family to abandon the city. Evading capture, they left for nearby San Enrique en route to Pulo where they would be safe from the Japanese wrath. While helpers were hurriedly stuffing food and rations into bed sheets and helping their señoritas gather clothes for evacuation, Angeles, unmindful of the urgency, was more interested in taking with her her most prized possession: a photo album.

Call it excessive self-love or even vanity but good always manages to come out from even the most inane of situations. Now, a good 60 years after the Second World War, we still have priceless relics of the past forever preserved through the pictures that Angeles saved. Now that’s what I call forward thinking!

Throughout the years, Lola has taught many a soul how to properly fold napkins and has meticulously gone through a ton of newspapers cutting out well-written or thought-provoking articles for future reference. Her portraits have changed very little since she started her affair with the camera. Just like the photographs in that famous album, her poses still exude an aura of glamour and natural celebrity – so rare nowadays – as if she had just fallen off the set of Gone with the Wind. Her floral perfume that always manages to latch onto unsuspecting well-wishers, perhaps most closely approximates the woman whose character appeals to all genders and transcends the generation divide.

As she celebrates her 85th birthday, our beloved Angeles is as gregarious as ever and continues to impress, inspire, and even amaze, by invalidating the notion that beauty is but fleeting. Four children, thirteen grandchildren and fifteen great-grandchildren later, Lola Angeles continues to prove that beauty and character, just like diamonds, are forever.

*Copied from Ione

The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry midterm paper.

The answer by one student was so 'profound' that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well:

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today.

Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by a certain girl during my Freshman year that, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,' and take into account the fact that I slept with the very same girl last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct..... .leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, she kept shouting 'Oh my God.'

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.
*From Liane Tan

Brilliant kid. Plus, he connected it to his own experiences pa. Good enough for Ateneo Philo. HAHA.

Excerpt from “The Negrense: A Social History of an Elite Class”

When one of the candidates in the search for Bacolod City’s Miss Golden Jubilee Queen was asked to name her favorite person, she replied, “I like Princes Di because she is beautiful and comes from royalty.” Actor Edu Manzano, the host for the 1998 pageant, was quick to latch on to this. Said he, “Well, you’re also beautiful and since you come from Negros, you must [also] belong to royalty.”

*

Since I left Bacolod for college in mid-2005, I considered myself temporarily (perhaps even permanently) out of the “scene.” Though, now that I think of it, I doubt I was really a devotee of the Bacolod limelight – my participation was largely coincidental, never forced, especially since most of these people I am either related to or grew up with.

As my cousin Luigi, one of the most ardent disciples of social consciousness (in)famously said, “Basta may kwarta, paryente!” I would always rebut with my typical, “Gentility exists even when the money is gone!”

Laughter would then follow.

To others, this kind of language would be considered bragging or a pompous display of fading aristocracy, but to those who understand it’s all but normal.

This is why I am happy (to a certain extent) that I have been branded as a “Brag Baron” in the pathetically-written-excuse-for-a-blog (Gossipism Bacolod). Being included in such an “exclusive” list (save for a few rotten apples and never-heards) proves that after such a lengthy hiatus, I am, perhaps, considered back in the scene.

But the most interesting part is that I know who the person behind the blog is. It’s so easy once you notice the subtle grammatical errors and writing style (or the lack of). Include the author’s rather limited knowledge concerning who matters in Bacolod and his penchant of including himself in the list (to throw of suspicions) despite being largely unheard of or talked about, the conclusion is inevitable.

 Let’s just say this person fits the profile of a frustrated gossip blogger to a T – unloved, unwanted and generally unread.

Early yesterday morning (19 June, 3:45 a.m.) while on break from reading Foucault I wrote in my journal,

"(Name) and I seem to be back on track again. We have a movie/dinner date tonight at Eastwood. She claims she has a "surprise" for me when I pick her up at the UP Film Institute. This early, I'm sensing a conspiracy. But that's probably just my hyperactive imagination."

Was it really just my imagination? You tell me.

Or maybe I'm starting to develop my psychic gifts.

Everyone has their firsts:
First real best friend: Alex G. (arcade/swimming buddies 1st-3rd grade)
First celebrity crush: Sarah Jessica Parker ("Pre-fabulous" c/o A. Javier) in Hocus Pocus
First time out of the country?: Spring 2004 (US of A)
First job: Adoptivo
First Myspace friend: clueless


Everyone has their Lasts:
Last person you hugged: Vanessa
Last car ride: Earlier today (down from Tagaytay)
Last time you cried?: A month ago?
Last movie you watched: Sex and the City
Last food you ate: Mac and cheese
Last item bought: school stuff
Last shirt worn: Pinstriped Oleg Cassini oxford
Last phone call: Pops
Last text message: Vanessa
Last kiss: like Mobeh and Hercules, I will refuse to answer
Last thing you touched: tKeyboard
Last funeral: Granfather
Last time at the mall: Earlier today (Greenhills)
Last time you were excited for something: Yesterday, for Tagaytay
Last person you saw: Isa, the maid
Last thing you drank: A&W rootbeer
Last person that broke your heart: C.G. but maybe it was Kate McCloud
Last time you were really honestly happy?: Earlier at Lunch in Tagaytay

For our special day last May 28th, Van gave me a small album of our pictures through the time we've been together. The following are some of the pictures she included, it was a time line of sorts, from the time I courted her to the numerous ADS (now SAB) events:

Going through the Friendster comments of a certain SK official disturbed me.

A contact of his wrote:
"part part. may comission kna da? hahahahahah"

I found this rather gauche and, even if said jokingly, a testimonial to the way this official views public office. Clearly, this official (just like many others around him) thinks of political position not as responsibility or obligation but as a milking cow ready for exploit.

*
The "Corruptionary - natatanging diksyonaryo ng mga salitang korapsyon" published by the Center for People Empowerment in Governance (CenPEG) provides the perfect definitions for words endemic to our corrupt officials.

I have taken the initiative to list a few words that our SK official in question (and other unscrupulous officials) would relate to:

*Commission/ Komisyon
- n/pangngalan (ko-mis-yon) bahagi ng perang nakurako, na ibinibigay sa mga nagsasagawa ng ilegal na transaksyon (kaparis ng cut, kickback, lagay)

Paano ginagamit (Let's give an Ilonggo example):

Confidential Assistant: SP, pasenya lang kay na delay. (Gives the envelope)
SP: Ano ni?
Confidential Assistant: SP, commission mo ni sa budget nga dapat wala gin approve kay puno anomaliya pero gin approve sang Committee mo.
SP: (Opens envelope) Sus! Amo lang ni? Dako gd guro cut ni Mayor ay?

*For official's use only
- adj / pang-uri (for-o-fi-syals-yus-on-li) tawag sa sasakyang panggobyerno na ginagamit ng mga opisyal bilang personal na pag-aari (hango sa totoong tatak sa mga sasakyan ng gobyerno an nagsasabing "For official use only")

Paano ginagamit:

Juan: Nababasa mo ba ang nakasulat sa sasakayan na yan?
Juana: For official use only.
Juan: Eh bakit nakaparada sa tapat ng beerhouse, alas dose ng hatinggabi?
Juana: Oo nga, ano?
Juan: Kasi, sa totoo lang, for official's use only yan.

*Kagalang-galang na magnanakaw
- n / pangngalan (ka-ga-lang-ga-lang-na-mag-na-na-kaw) opisyal na mukhang kagalang-galang ngunit magnanakaw pala ng salapi ng bayan.

Strangely, my good friend and alter ego Arbie "Blacklisted in Drew's" Baguios wrote an entry on his ideal proposal. I'm sure it'll be a while until he pops the question unless he's unlucky when popping other things.

*
My ideal proposal would be on a yacht in either the Aegean, Caribbean or, more realistically but no less romantic, Manila Bay.

As soon as the sun retreats, champagne will flow on the finest crystal while classics are played on a Spanish guitar. Then, as soon as the stars start filling up the night sky, the guitarist will play Casablanca's "As Time Goes By."

*
The ring.

A few days ago my brother told me how a diamond of my late grandmother was cut up into three (or four) pieces and given to each of them for their engagement rings.

I'd prefer an heirloom piece with a classic cut set on platinum. It has to be a diamond. Diamonds are, after all, forever.

*
A sumptuous dinner will follow with the finest wines and cocktails. Fireworks will have to cap the night.

The yacht setting is romantic but also secures an almost definite "Yes."

A denial will definitely force me to politely ask the unwilling bride-to-be, "If you don't want to walk down the aisle, please do walk the plank."

Note: All seas, as per research, are shark infested. So I wish her the best of luck swimming to shore.

*Link to Karla Mesina's blog entry.

" i have to warn you now. this part of the entry is about Justin and the many things he can accomplish by simply stepping into a room.

justin is the only guy that belle and i know who effectively and instantly attracts all sorts of admirers: gay men, old matrons, giggly girls. it doesn't matter what he's wearing or where we are. most eyes zoom in on him wherever he is.

i cannot imagine how his girlfriend feels about having to compete with everybody else. justin isn't dazzlingly handsome (in my opinion, at least) nor does he exude waves of sexual appeal (ditto). there's this just this aura about him that makes people crane their heads for a second, third, fourth look at him. he's perfectly comfortable with this bizarre reaction from people because it's been happening for the longest time. i think he'd actually feel puzzled if they suddenly stopped staring openly at him.

one time, mama and i were riding a jeepney and this fair-skinned guy wearing a shirt, shorts, and slippers got in. i noticed that he had really white feet, so i pointed them out to my mother and said,"see how white that guy's feet are? that's how fair justin is."  "

There's no doubt how practical and convenient taking the MRT or LRT is. What usually takes 30 minutes to an hour driving from Greenhills to Makati, the MRT cuts down to barely 15 minutes.

What I don't like is the sea of humanity that packs the compartments like sardine cans (except the "Female Area"). Though I'm sure during rush hour, even the sexist section is crammed like anything. Some people call it a "claustrophobic nightmare." I say groper's paradise.

The only people who would like a situation like this are those overly touchy lovers who simply cannot afford a room even in the sleaziest motels. The cramp space gives them the perfect reason to touch each other in public.

*
Sidestory: In the Tayuman station with my two "cute bodyguards" Belle and Karla (we had to go to LTO Manila), a guard told me to stay out of the "Female Area." I asked him with my usual sarcastic tone, "Do I look like I sexually assault people?" He looked at me puzzled. Poor guy. I had no choice but to proceed to the "For ALL Sexes Section."

Since not so many people boarded at Tayuman, I was able to sit down. In Carriedo, an old lady with shopping bags entered so I politely offered my seat. Strangely, the other men who were seated did not mind her at all, nor the other women who were made to stand and hold on to the railings set too high. Que barbaridad!

"Good manners are made up of petty sacrifices." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

I always thought manners maketh man. These people, I guess, find making petty sacrifices too demanding.

"Life is not so short but that there is always time enough for courtesy." ~ Emerson

*
What the MRT and LRT should do is set aside a few compartments for "Business Class" passengers. Personally, I wouldn't mind paying a higher rate to sit comfortably and not run the risk of contracting a respiratory/skin disease.

Also, they should have an "Express Lane" for those travelling "Business Class" - ticketing, exit and entry.

And why wouldn't it work? Imagine all the yuppies, students and middle class professionals who would gladly take the train considering the spiraling prices of gas (without sacrificing too much comfort or health). The administrators of our metro systems should definitely look into this rant-cum-proposal.

Considering my previous rant about the (ab)use of language, I couldn't help but educate the sad sad soul who recently set up a Multiply account.

"Honestly, i really don't like to make an account here. Haha. but nakakainis kasi. most of my friends have & soo many people are also asking me if may multiply daw ako. and i kept on saying naman na wala 'cause i have friendster lang talaga. i don't even have myspace. Haha. tamad ako gumawa ng account eh. and you have to check the updates pa, so hassle. but oh well. since vain naman ako. [tssss.] haha. yan! i made one na. so sa mga nagtatanong dyan na bakit ayoko magka-multiply. eto na po. haha. wala ng makulit aah. hmph. i'll just see you around everyone! :))"

If you didn't think that was horrible, check out her succeeding entries:

"grabe. i don't know what to say but i just feel so hurt right now.
i can't even explain how painful it was when i heard everything about it.
ang sakit. sooobra. ang sakit-sakit talaga. :((
i hope i can fix this piece of  bullshity crap na talagang pagsisisihan ko habambuhay!"

Did she just use the term "bullshity crap" ?! Que barbaridad!

Mind my Hiligaynon, "Grabe! Bullshit na, crap pa gd ya!"

*
Her latest entry reads:

i guess i could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me. but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes, i feel like i'm seeing it all at once.. and it's too much. my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst and then i remember.. to relax and try not to hold on to it. and then it flows through me like rain. i can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life!
you have no idea of what i'm talikng about. i'm sure. don't worry. you will, someday.

If this was my ex-girlfriend trying to make me feel all guilty about dumping her, she'd only get me even more confused... and happy of my decision.

There were other factors for the break up I'm sure. Perhaps a disturbing mole or the constipated smile she thinks is cute. All the reasons taken into account, I'm sure the decision was worthwhile.

Word of advice: Anyone who uses the term "bullshity crap" for whatever reason is unworthy of being taken seriously. Sure, others may have the same difficulty understanding which letters to capitalize or have no clue in the world what an ellipse is, but these are minor flaws one can make light of. The use of "bullshity crap," however, is beyond reprieve.

Notes:

*Thank God this specific user allows only contacts to view her entries. At least only they have to bear with her "bullshity crap."

*Bullshity crap? it's like being called a "Fucking Blowjob!"  (Russell Peters - 2:19)

*I knew this one Atenean (Freshman) who said an ellipse was when the moon obscured the sun.

 

Lately I've fallen victim to certain individuals who send cellphone messages en masse. These people usually send their inane messages at the most ungodly hours (only to mention something about the weather or beg for credit, que horror!) obviously insensitive to those whose sleeping patterns are affected by their intrusion.

Frustrated and tired, insomnia easily sets in and plagues me until it gets sunny outside. It is in these times that I think about all sorts of things (it's so difficult to stop), some of which I will gladly share.

Note: Please forgive the randomness.

1. Soggy espadrilles are gross to walk in. Anton was right, I'm a season too late.

2. I am a frustrated politico. My entry into electoral politics was mired by a landslide defeat which was really expected since even I voted for my opponent. The second run, by far the most colorful (looking back I call it vulgar) campaign, was lost by 25 votes. I then sweared I'd never enter politics again. But I reneged the very next year when I was given an overwhelming mandate. I ran with the tagline, "A True La Sallian," harping on my opponent's "new student" status.

After a year's hiatus I made a run for a higher post and won handily. It was an interesting match up since it pitted old, entrenched families from the north and south. Simbulan in "The Modern Principalia" noted both families as "politically dominant" in the post-war era.

3. Manila City Hall is full of fixers. Even children are trained to "assist" unwary citizens and charge exorbitant fees for "services rendered." They are touchy too. Which would be okay if you didn't see them wiping off snot a while ago.

4. I want a condo with an unobstructed view of either the Makati skyline or Manila Bay's sunset (or both). I've developed a liking (bordering on ambition) for the Icon residences across Manila Golf. Yes, I'm a dreamer.

5. My "cute bodyguards" (Belle and Karla) are tenacious journalists who leave almost no stone unturned in their questioning. I tend to ask the more personal, subjective questions. Other than that, I'm the wheels.

6. I hate mascots. What the hell is Grimace supposed to be?! A chicken nugget gone bad?!

7. I am overly praning with everything... especially contraception. Who knows, someone could have punctured holes into that condom you're planning to buy.

8. Another (quite shocking) testimonial confirms once again he's "very small." All the other ladies(?) he's been with echo the same sentiments.

9. One of my long term goals is to publish a daily and write a society-cum-current-affairs column.

10. I go to the gym for the aesthetic qualities it brings over the health benefits. Yes, I'm superficial in that way.

I obviously think too much. So please, message me only when important and not when you just want to say it's a "chilly morning" or continually ask how I am even when I obviously never reply.

Kate Spade wrote in her book "Manners,"

PARLA INGLESE? - No one abroad will expect you to speak their language fluently, but it is a sign of respect to learn how to speak some basic phrases. (The well-known exception is in France, especially Paris, where your perfect English is preferred to your broken French.)

*
I am repulsed by people who insist on using a language they have little or no command over. Take the lady who insisted she did not feel any pressure at that given moment or the one who, if given the chance to go anywhere in the world, would proceed to Disneyland (said "Deeeesneeelhand")... Hong Kong, because of her Mickey Mouse obsession.

Travel destinations aside, I believe it's very important to use a language one knows, and stick to it.

*
The deleted reply read: "Looooooza" (probably "LooooTHa" if spoken by the author)

I asked the one who received it, "How many Os did he put?"

He quipped, "More than I have teeth!"

"Wonderful. Did he use s or z?"

"For the love of god, he used z!"

*
Even in Multiply, I believe your perfect Hiligaynon (or whatever language you know by heart) is preferred to your broken English.

My grandmother the gregarious Angeles Silos (nee Martin) was, and undoubtedly still is, one of those enduring Negrense beauties. Seen here as a teenager in Assumption, she caught the eye of the most eligible bachelors of her time.

Now approaching 85, Angeles the chatterbox is as fiesty and sociable as ever. She continues to be my inspiration and a permanent fixture in my list of role models.

In this picture Angeles, fondly called Lola Les, accompanies her grandson Len Gatuslao (in blue polo) as he files his candidacy for mayor of Himamaylan. Ana Mercedes S. Gatuslao (in pink), the eldest daughter of Angeles, shows her support with Len's wife Denise and son Francis.

I promise a tribute for her birthday this July.

*It's time to write about the history of my family, lest time warps memories and all we have left are faded pictures of a bygone era. It truly is amazing how our very own families can provide an almost inexhaustible treasure trove of the most fascinating stories.

Wanting to surprise my mother, I ordered a vase of carnations from this supposedly reputable flower shop. To my shock and horror the arrangement would have fit perfectly at a wake. So, with the venerable Kate Spade as my guide, I took out all the flowers and arranged them myself. The result:

Have I found my new calling? Hahaha.

Finally I have beheld the face of that Himamaylan non-resident who insisted on silencing my political views last election. In doing so she showed the enthusiasm of a much younger woman since her brain has obviously not matured at the rate of her other body parts.

Through a friend's mother (they were office mates, if I remember correctly) she claimed I had nothing to do meddling with politics in Himamaylan. She insisted I was "too young" to voice out my political opinions. (link to my arguments against this "arisocracy of age")

I replied with a short note saying, "Tita, please do tell your friend that I am only exercising my right as a registered voter of Himamaylan, which she clearly is not. Also, if your friend thinks 19-year-olds are not worthy of suffrage, she should write to the framers of the 1986 Constitution and blame them. I do hope she enjoys the calendar. Sincerely, Justin Gat"

The calendar, you ask? I sent her the campaign calendar of my brother, who was running against her candidate, my aunt.

I wonder if my package ever reached her. If it didn't I surely hope she gets to read this entry.