There will be days when I don't have anything substantial to write about, but it doesn't mean there's nothing in my mind right now. Here's a thought...



[ How many times have you dishonestly commented in someone else's post saying that you liked it (or even praised it) when in fact, by your standard, the post was a total garbage waste of webspace? .. ]

Here are two songs of EDSA. If it doesn't play good, visit Imeem website.

Handog Ng Pilipino Sa Mundo
Words and Music by Jim Paredes
Featured Artists: Apo Hiking Society, Celeste Legaspi, Coritha & Eric, Edru Abraham, Gretchen Barretto, Ivy Violan, Inang Laya, Joseph Olfindo, Kuh Ledesma, Leah Navarro, Lester Demetillo, Noel Trinidad, Subas Herrero

‘Di na ‘ko papayag mawala ka muli.
‘Di na ‘ko papayag na muling mabawi,
Ating kalayaan kay tagal natin mithi.
‘Di na papayagang mabawi muli.

Magkakapit-bisig libo-libong tao.
Kay sarap palang maging Pilipino.
Sama-sama iisa ang adhikain.
Kailan man ‘di na paalipin.

Handog ng Pilipino sa mundo,
Mapayapang paraang pagbabago.
Katotohanan, kalayaan, katarungan
Ay kayang makamit na walang dahas.
Basta’t magkaisa tayong lahat.

Magsama-sama tayo...ikaw at ako.

Masdan ang nagaganap sa aming bayan.
Magkasama na'ng mahirap at mayaman.
Kapit-bisig madre, pari, at sundalo.
Naging langit itong bahagi ng mundo.

Huwag muling payagang umiral ang dilim.
Tinig ng bawat tao’y bigyan ng pansin.
Magkakapatid lahat sa Panginoon.
Ito’y lagi nating tatandaan.

Magkaisa
Composed by Tito Sotto
Sang by Virna Lisa

Ngayon ganap ang hirap sa mundo
Unawa ang kailangan ng tao
Ang pagmamahal sa kapwa'y ilaan

Isa lang ang ugat ng ating pinagmulan
Tayong lahat ay magkalahi
Sa unos at agos ay huwag padadala

Panahon na ng pagkakaisa
Kahit ito ay hirap at dusa

Magkaisa (may pagasa kang matatanaw)
At magsama (bagong umaga, bagong araw)
Kapit kamay (sa atin Siya'y nagmamahal)
Sa bagong pagasa

Ngayon may pag-asang natatanaw
May bagong araw, bagong umaga
Pagmamahal sa Diyos, isipin mo tuwina

Acknowledgement: Visit Dr Stirring Rhod's blog for more songs on Magkaisa album. That's where I got the Magkaisa lyrics above. His blog is a wonderful find for 70s and 80s music. I guarantee you'd enjoy your visit to his blog.

Five minutes of every day
by Magdalena C Najjar
Dhahran, Saudi Arabia

Yousif goes to school every morning, just like any other kid. But unlike most who take the bus, he is picked up by a hired driver, Badong, at 6:55 a.m. from a familiar spot near al-Mujamma’.

Yousif’s father waits with him for about five minutes until Badong comes, and then goes to his office.

Sometimes at al-Mujamma’, the Commissary or the clinic, I would meet people who would comment on Yousif’s father, “Oh, he is so nice. I see him with Yousif every morning at the parking lot, and they always seem to be having fun!” One morning, I waited with Yousif. His father had an important presentation to make and wanted to get to work early.

At 6:50 a.m., Yousif motioned to me from the car to pick up his school bag. Then he asked me to fix the hood of his jacket to keep him warm. I did as asked, and he smiled at me. He then offered me his hand and I held it as we walked together to that particular waiting spot. As always, his smile filled me with joy and his touch with pride.

I put Yousif’s bag and mine on a wooden bench, then I engaged him in a game of “peek-a-boo.” Less than a minute later, Yousif looked bored and walked away to stand by the side of the shed. “What is he going to do,” I wondered.

He stood there in full view of the people who were on their way to work, most of them rushing. Yousif extended his hand in the air and every time someone passed by, he said hi. Some returned the greeting and continued to walk. Yousif said bye to each person as they walked away, then turned back again to greet another passerby.

Some stopped to give him a little pat on his shoulder, a pinch on his cheek, or to shake his hand. Others ignored him. I couldn’t take my eyes off him; I was full of pride. Is this what his father witnesses daily? Is that what I had been missing? I could feel my heart bursting with joy andpride.

Then a car honked. I picked up our bags, gave one to Badong and said bye to Yousif, who hugged me, hopped into the car and greeted Badong with a smile, “Good morning.”

Yousif is a very special child. He has Down Syndrome and goes to a special school where he is showered with more love than anyone could measure. He is a gift, a very happy soul and is so unlike anyone. I know that because I live with him. I am his mother, and he is my son. I am proud of that and will always be.

All of us — his father, his older siblings and I — are proud of him. The same goes for everyone who knows him.

This morning was another discovery for me because of Yousif. My husband has been lucky for having that daily five minutes with him — that very unique five minutes to begin each work day.

I remember when I started blogging, there were days when I would lurk in my own blog waiting for someone to drop me a note to say how trashy I write, or how inept my views are. I got nothing.

I even went out my way of designing a threatening sidebar graphic advising chance-upon-ers to leave a comment or else...

It generated a couple of comments and I was glad.

(I lovingly commend Khrisna because he was one of those two who left me my first comments. He said something like don't fret because people do visit you without you knowing it, or something like that. He suggested that I install sitemeter and I did. Too bad my free subscription ran out already.)

I have yet to realize my dream of getting a minimum comments of around 100 per post. Haha. But because it's near to impossible, I'm contented receiving comments from my ever faithful blogging friends, a network of OFW bloggers who, more or less, dig my wayward thoughts. Again, I thank you guys.

What works in commenting and what doesn't? I'll share you my personal thoughts.

1. Network is built on the first six months. During the first six months that you're blogging, you should already have a decent number of blogging friends who would faithfully read and leave you a comment in your posts. If not, see 3 below.

2. If you write faithfully, diligently and with a heart, comments will come. I noticed that Pinoy bloggers react to heart-warming, well-thought of and funny posts. And somehow, I don't know why, it shows whether a post has come from a heart or if it's written half-heartedly. (I sometimes write half-heartedly and I can sense that my readers sense it too).

3. Leave comments in other blogs. This is the surest way to invite someone to your network, or to join in someone else's network. But like writing your posts, your comments should also be done with a heart. It will show whether you're just plainly leaving a comment to get a backlink or whether you're commenting because you honestly liked the post.

4. Commenters also read your comments. They do. (Before I comment on someone else's post, I read first the previous comments. If I find someone's comment interesting, I make a note to visit the blog). Based on your comments, they will come and visit you. Based on your posts, they will either stay on and leave a comment and be back on your next post, or they will flee.

5. We are whatever we write so it's good to re-read what we write before we click 'publish'. I believe that most, if not all, bloggers, especially Pinoy bloggers, are intelligent, sensitive beings. Most of them actually read (not browse) what we write. (I fall prey to grammar and spelling mistakes and for that, I ask your forgiveness, guys! Too, don't be deceived by my guru-esque tone; believe me, I know very little. I'm just a little observant, that's all.)


Don't we all agree?

Personally, I ignore these rankings and measurements because I don't honestly know what they mean. (Actually, I am sourgraping because my juice is 0.5, my popularity is almost nil, I'm 25th million in Alexa, and I can't copy the uber cool blogroll and side widgets of Madjik). Sore.

But for those who may be interested in finding out how juicy you are, how popular your blog is, how many links have you got so far, etc, etc, here are some of the sources I recently googled. Try them! You may be surprised at how helpful they sometimes are. (And don't be daunted if ever you score as low as I. Let's leave it with the famous them. In time and with constant prayers, the unknown us will one day be up a notch, you'll see.)


Alexa claims that it is one of the most accurate freely available tools in finding out how well your site ranks up against millions of other sites on the Web. The rule is that the lower the Alexa ranking number the more heavily visited the site.


The Googlerankings Position Tracking tracks your website's Google position. Had extreme difficulty getting results from their site but Page Rank Checker can easily get and display for you the Pagerank value of your web pages.


The authority pertained here is the number of blogs that are linking to your sites, for the last six months. The higher the number, the more Technorati Authority the blog has. Technorati's site explains that the best way to increase Authority is to write things that are interesting to other bloggers or linking to source material to help others find what you find interesting. In simpler terms, this measures how other blogs link your site.


It determines the “blog juice” for your blog based on your Bloglines subscription, Alexa rank, Technorati rank and inbound links in Technorati. (Mine is soooo low I can't even call it a droplet).


I love this site! It will calculate the page size, composition, and download time of your blog. It sums up each type of web page component and offers sound advice on how to improve your page load time. No matter how good a blog or a site is, if it loads longer than I make my coffee, I will certainly never revisit.


This computes and displays your blog's worth using "the same link to dollar ratio as the AOL-Weblogs Inc deal". I don't know what this measurement really represents. If you find a way to encash our worth, then do tell me.

It's not a sin to want to -- and even aim to -- be popular. The downside is that (I believe) the more popular the website is, the more impersonal it becomes. For me, the best measure of my blogging ability is when someone comments on my work, no matter how short the comment is, no matter how remote the comment is from the post topic, no matter if it's from a stranger who chanced upon my blog by accident or from someone who I've been exchanging comments with since birth. Honestly, everytime I get a comment, tumataba ang puso ko! I'm pretty sure most bloggers do.

Allow me to thank my perennial commenters who never tire reading me. (And I forgive you even if, in reality, you don't read me but still manage to put a sound comment in my post which makes me believe that you dig me somehow; I'm just kidding): RJ, Blogusvox, Madjik, Ever, NJ, Yanah, JVC, Mr and Mrs Thoughtskoto, Eyecandy, Khrisna, etc. This I promise you: I will forever be your fan. Even if I become too popular. Haha. Just kidding.

Himig Heswita's Huwag Kang Mangamba
Four Christmases ago, I gave as a gift to my mom Himig Heswita's Your Dwelling Place album. It has been her favorite since. I will always remember her while listening to any of Himig Heswita's songs.



Himig Heswita's How Lovely is Your Dwelling Place

Sweetest of music. It lulls my spirit and I feel rested whenever I hear this.



Israel Kamakawiwo`ole's Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I first heard the song from an episode of ER (tv series) and at the end of Drew Barrymore's 50 First Dates. I thought I would forever hate the song when Jason Castro sang it in American Idol. I didn't. I still hate Jason Castro's hair and voice up to now but I remain to love Israel's Somewhere.



Mika's Grace Kelly

The first time I saw Mika on tv, I was a bit dismayed because I thought his look was 'so gay' with his neon color garterized pants and pink shirt. But when I heard his Grace Kelly, I thought he's kind of cool. The song is bit loud and a bit unmanly but still cool. It has been my favorite since.



Any Bob Marley's

What else can I say? No matter how down I feel, whenever I hear Bob Marley and the Wailers, I feel invigorated (and yet I'm asking you to bury me in this song? Ironic).

I don't know how to swim and when I venture in any swimming pool, I always end up like a talaba: immersed in water but clinging on whatever stable matter I can hold on to, never letting go.

I fear heights. Whenever there are scenes on tv particularly showing a POV of someone on a building ledge, I feel an uncomfortable sensation in my groin!

I fear snakes. I fear poverty. I fear popular people.

And now that I'm no longer, ehem, young, I hear William Wallace's famous Braveheart line: ...and dying in your bed, many years from now, would you trade this day to that day...!

Yes, I would trade any day to that day when I could learn to swim or I could bungee jump without fear.

Because you see, one thing that my parents forgot to teach me is to be adventurous because they themselves weren't. They let go of their adventurous spirit in lieu of our future -- my sister's and mine. You know that thing called sacrifice for the betterment of your children? My parents did that and have forgotten how to become adventurous.

Don't they have courage? They do. There's no question about that. My father was raised in Carles, Iloilo; my mother in Anao, Tarlac. They traveled to Manila at very young age: poor and full of dreams. My father pursued radio technology; my mother midwifery (nurses were not in at that time). Both didn't finish school and, at 20, had to work in a factory. And work they did for more than forty years! That's how hard they struggled in raising us, providing us the provisions we need, with the meager income they get out of that factor. They let go of their personal dreams and wasted their youths so they can raise us decently.

And that same 'loyalty' had rubbed off to my sister and I. My sister, a registered dietician, found her job (so unrelated to her degree) right after college and stuck in that job for more than 17 years! Now that she's 40 and retrenched, she has nowhere else to go.

And I have been in this same company in Saudi for more than 12 years! Although I'm sure I will not get fired anytime soon, I still fear that, if indeed I am fired, my chances are now more limited and my job choices a lot fewer than when I was younger.

Today, I thought that maybe it's time I take the plunge, dive the unknown. As Birdie Conrad in You've Got Mail said: ...(dare) to march into the unknown armed with (pause)...nothing. Precisely that's my point. Why do I fear when I have nothing to lose? It's been too long that I'm playing it safe here in Saudi and I honestly feel that my fear had cost me a lot of opportunities.

Before I went to Saudi in my mid-20's, a friend offered me a job as her assistant for a major advertising company in Manila. I declined. She's now in the US and the last thing I heard of her, she's working at a big advertising firm in New York.

Some ten years ago, a friend invited me to apply for a scholarship in Germany for an engineering degree. I declined because I said I'm getting well paid as a secretary in Saudi. My friend, a BS Psychology graduate, is now in Canada as a Contracts Manager.

Because life has no Control-Z (shortcut for undo in Microsoft), I can only wonder what my life would have been had I took a different set of choices. I will never know.

I'll wait for the summer because I think the changing weather is making me conjur up silly thoughts. It's the weather alright. It's the weather and that naughty post I did yesterday. Or maybe because it's full moon tonight.

I know. I'll plan for it. I'll plan for it and take action. I'll take action and see whether I'm right or wrong. I read in a study on risks that willingness to take risks decreases with age and them taller tend to take risks more than the smaller us. Bah. We'll see.

{Code PBA0985620qn for PBA Best Blog}

Warning: This post about those hidden spots is definitely not suitable for young audiences. If I were you, I'd rather read about my lessons on love.

Why is it when we talk of sex, either the organs or the acts, there's always that patina of guilt and restraint? Like we don't want our family to know that we once secretly enjoyed reading Xerex, that sometimes even inside the church, we get impure thoughts, that there are people we meet everyday with whom we fleetingly imagine having sex with.

This post is not a comprehensive discussion of sex; just a brief brush of the g and the p spots (no pun intended).

These are my caveats: I strongly believe that in sex, there's no such thing as right or wrong, except when taken with a stranger who refuses to do it with you, or with something inanimate or with a non-person. It must be agreed mutually and never, ever done with a minor. Secondly, I don't espouse extra-marital affair or sex out of marriage. Thirdly, I'm not an expert; just being naughty this Valentine.

For me, these are the most erotic parts of the body: the ear, the neck (particularly below the ear), the lips, the breast, near the pelvis, both thighs, the penis and the vagina. Unless we're pressed against time, let's not dive into the situation right away. If you can, venture away from it and lick (yes, using your tongue!) those erotic parts as gently as you can.

Now let's concentrate on the spots.

G-spot, books say, is the most erotic part of a female. Touching it (together with the clitoris and the urethra) gives pleasure to the woman. Fondle the g-spot to stimulate it, and stroke it gently with either your middle or fore finger and mostly your tongue. The movement should mimic that of flirtingly calling someone to 'come here' using your finger or like taking that elusive part of a 'kuhol' using your tongue.

In bed, when she moans, unless she's good at faking things, don't stop. Vary your position when you get tired.

Let's go to a man. To pleasure him, try licking everything else except his genital. Concentrate on his p-spot but first ensure that your partner has washed thoroughly. Salted eggs are best taken with rice or on top of ensaymada. P-spot is man's most erotic part. It's above the opening of the rectum and that stem beneath the ball. Lift the balls and feel it. If you can't find it, go ahead, don't be shy, ask your man where his p-spot is. Then tongue it.

Do everything as slowly as possible. Never haste. Unless you're playing basketball, never dribble. Slide in a rhythmic fashion. And never stay in one place for too long. Vary.

Don't be too shy to feel using your hands. X-rated films always show rough sex with lots of oohhs and aahhs and shriekings. Don't be fooled thinking that the noisier the sex, the better. Duh. Noise has nothing to do with it. In fact, sex, the act, is like a slow dance ritual. It must be suave and gentle; wet and sweaty and steamy. And the only sounds you must hear are the beating of your hearts and the slow, rhythmic panting of two souls.

I'm done.

Shari Cruz's Give and get knock-your-socks-off sex discusses these spots more clearly; her article actually inspired me. And then there's this web article that promises the ultimate technique in reaching the peak of or---. Oh, please just read them!

This post is definitely so un-me!!! (Magmalinis b?)

Take a 10-30 minute walk every day and while you walk, smile. (And sweat, too).

Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day. (The longer you can, the better. It's what you call meditation).

When you wake up in the morning complete this sentence: My purpose today is to ... (And it has to be a positive purpose unless you're a suicide bomber whose purpose is to annihilate mankind).

Live with the 3 E's: energy, enthusiasm, empathy, and the 3 F's: faith, family, friends.

Spend more time with people over the age of 70 and under the age of six. (I lived with my two nieces and my aging parents. I am bored most of the time. Maybe I'm just missing the lessons there).

Dream more while you are awake. (And don't ever forget: dreams must always be followed by action).

Smile and laugh more. It will keep the energy vampires away.

Life isn't fair, but it's still good. (I totally agree!).

Life is too short to waste time hating anyone. (I think it's normal to hate but not as much as it ultimately becomes our character. Never ever be a vindictive soul!).

Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does. (I totally agree with this one. Mistakes have their own way of solving itself).

Make peace with your past, so it won't mess up the present. (Tell me how to do this because, frankly, I thought this is too profound to follow).

Don't compare your life to others'. You have no idea what their journey is all about. (I, 100%, agree).

Burn the candles, use the nice sheets. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special. (I hope my mother reads this).

No one is in charge of your happiness except you.

Forgive everyone for everything. (Except those people who sap your positive energy all the time! Run away from them!).

What other people think of you is none of your business. (What this line should say is that we should not try to please everybody).

Time heals almost everything. Give time, time.

Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your family and (at least one or two of your) friends will. Stay in touch. Call your family often. (Or YM them to limit your telephone expense).

Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful. (I think this pertains to memories. Because if we get rid of unuseful, ugly, grouchy people, the world will end up with a lot fewer population).

The best is yet to come. (Oh, yes I do believe).

Believe. (I just said that).

Do the right thing! (In our office, there's a big sign that says do the right thing, the first time! Difficult to live by, I'm telling you).

Each night before you go to bed complete the following statements:
I am thankful for...
Today I accomplished...

Remember that you are too blessed to be stressed.

Make the most of it and enjoy the ride. (And I wrote about it in my previous post about life being a trip).

Lame Val and blind Tina

That's what you call love. Both goodlooking. She is blind, he is lame. And everybody thought they're made in heaven. And on the night they were married, although it was raining, some claim they saw glints of stars in the sky. Ironically, everybody thought the marriage will not last: she is blind, he is lame, remember?

And because she is blind and he is lame, they had difficulties making through life. Val never had worked, he is lame, remember? Tina did all that has to be done to make both ends meet. After all, she's only blind but she's capable. Everybody thought the marriage will not last; it did for the next seven years.

But miracles do happen. One day, Val is no lame anymore. He found a job that could now support his family; and not just a job he took. He also took another wife.

And Tina can finally see. She is no longer blind to what's happening around her. And the irony of it is that there was no longer love between them. They loved each other despite he being lame and she being blind. And when their circumstances changed, so does their love for each other.

There were glints of stars in the sky that night Val and Tina parted ways.

Three Madonna

She carried her in her womb alone and sorry, for Madonna got pregnant out of a night's drinking binge. Although she had an idea who the father was, she can't run after him because he's married. And so she had to travel that lonesome, difficult journey of single motherhood, alone.

Madonna's daughter grew up beautiful and loving. Madonna gave her her namesake too, in fact. And everybody's against it because they were afraid that Madonna, the child, would grow up like Madonna, the mother. The irony of life is she did. Madonna, the child, grew up like Madonna, the mother: with unknown pregnancy at a very young age. In her deathbed, Madonna, the mother, felt sorry for naming her daughter after her. She thought her daughter's life would have been better had she named her Susan or Maria or Monica.

What Madonna, the mother, didn't know was that Madonna, her child, named the newborn as another Madonna. And everybody thought the same cycle of sorry and sorrowful life would continue. They were wrong. Madonna, the mother, promised herself that her Madonna will not live like her. And so she toiled day and night, ensuring that her Madonna gets the best education. In the end, Madonna, her child, grew to become a successful hairdresser.

Madonna, who was once a daughter to a mother named Madonna, in her death bed, smiled and said: I'm glad I named her after her grandmother.

Perfecto

The only thing that's perfect about him is his name. Everything else seemed out of place. He is cross-eyed. His left foot is shorter than his right. He stutters when he speaks and drools all the time. But, as his father always proudly exclaims, he is the most intelligent among the kids. He could read at three, could do Math at six, and was considered a computer whiz at 12. At 20, he was already a millionaire. He still stutters and he is still cross-eyed and everybody wonders why, with his money, he still hasn't considered an operation to improve his look.

Perfector said: I was extraordinarily loved by my family because of how I looked. They thought I was the most vulnerable. All my life, I get this feeling that everybody around me seemed to be proud of my achievements; everybody seemed to be prodding me to strive harder like it's their own battle that I'm fighting for. All because I don't look threatening.

He stuttered a lot on his wedding vows. No one seemed to mind though. Every mothers thought they were seeing their own son get married.

Have you played Hangaroo? In tagalog?

I saw the game from the award-winning blog of Samjuan. He got it from the site of Marhgil Macuha. It won't play on Firefox though but it works well in IE (or perhaps I just don't know how to tweak it).

I played it and, let's put it this way, if real kangaroos were hanged everytime I play the tagalog version, there'll be no kangaroo left in Australia. Hangaroo in Tagalog is very, very difficult. (My nieces and I love playing Hangaroo in English and seldom have we hanged a kangaroo).



Here's my sorry effort.



And here's another one I wasn't able to answer.

This is sad. During the 2007 elections, only 15.5% out of the 504,110 overseas Filipinos who registered actually voted. This is a paltry figure in comparison to 2004 where 65%, or 233 thousand out of 359 thousand registered voters, actually voted. For the 2010 presidential and senatorial elections, I hope OFW voters increase in number.

Let's.

Below is the text of the press release issued by the Philippine Embassy in Riyadh.

Too, there is an ongoing drive to amend the current registration schedules in Saudi Arabia to include Thursdays and Fridays.

If you want to find out whether you're a registered OAV, COMELEC's website alphabetically lists the voters' names by country and consulate.

Related articles on the web:
OFWs urged to register for 2010 elections
COMELEC downloadable forms

You may or may not believe it but these are what I think of OFW's:

1. Every salary period, we hold in our hands a minimum of three different accounts where we send most of our salaries to. One of those accounts we hold secretly from our missus or parents.

2. Most of the salaries we remit in the Philippines go to expenses. A little or maybe none gets saved.

3. None of OFW children are enrolled in the same public school that the OFW went to.

4. We have been belittled, once or twice, by an OFW kabayan. We have been discriminated upon, more than once, by other nationalities.

5. All OFW's have been invited or have attended at least one bible study even in countries where bible is deemed illegal.

6. Visit an OFW house and you'll likely find any or all of the following in their bedside table: a bible, a rosary, a prayer book, even in countries where non-Islam religious materials are banned.

7. Most OFWs are devout TFC or GMA Pinoly subscribers but when on vacation in the Philippines, they rarely watch Channel 2 or 7.

8. We are more updated about the political and showbiz happenings in the Philippines than our family in the Philippines are.

9. OFWs, while abroad, all learned to cook out of necessity and we are never without Mama Sita flavorings.

10. OFWs are health conscious while abroad but devour pork crackling without a second thought while on vacation.

11. While abroad, OFWs savour tuyo, tinapa and itlog na maalat with kamatis but we don't want to eat them while in the Philippines. (Courtesy of Azel). It's true and I wonder why?

The saddest part is that I tend to agree with them not because it's true but because I have nothing to show to refute their so-called 'claim' about my being 'mukhang mahirap'. Firstly, my complexion is dark and I have constant sores (and evidence of sores) in my arms. Normally, a mosquito bite in my arms becomes a sore and then becomes a pus after some time (I'm just kidding). A mosquito bite reddens my skin very easily and it leaves a permanent mark -- peklat ba!. When I was small, my mom said, I was covered with galis all over -- even in the head.

She said it's because my blood is unpure, unclean (honestly, I think because my blood is blue...dugong bughaw ba!).

I was well taken cared off. Even today, my mom wouldn't let me sleep without a mosquito net (kulambo). Nightly, I rub lotions in my arms (feet first actually!). I wish I could shun away from chicken meat but I can't because it's my favorite. Sadly, however, I can never tend a chicken coop because my skin is easily gets bitten by chicken ticks; I don't know why.

For us Pinoys, if you're not kutis porcelana, you're negra! And no matter how many black Ms U wins and even if the most powerful man on earth is Barack Obama, I still believe that for Filipinos, black is not in...never!. (Deep inside, although we, Filipinos, are secretly die-hards of Ate Guy, we would still vote for Ate Vi as the more beautiful).

That's why the Philippine market is constantly deluged with beauty products promising a 'whiter, clearer, fairer, more beautiful skin'...'in just 60 seconds' (ay Eye-Mo pala un!).

That's why Saudi has now the 'magic cream' and some other beauty products from the Philippines like Likas Papaya.

Are all Filipinos -- men, women and women-looking men -- really dying to be 'white'? Maybe not. But I think we're all so enamored with anything western that we, unknowingly, are all dying to look, sound and feel Western.

Why? Because for us, having a white skin is a rich thing. I remembered when I was small growing in Anao, Tarlac, everytime we see a white-skinned kid, we always say 'he's a Manilenyo' (he's from Manila). When I grew up in Manila, everytime we see a mestiza, we call her 'artistahin'. Parts of our everyday language are the words 'mukhang katulong' and 'mukhang pulubi'.

We are indeed chronic, pathetic profilers!.

This morning, I cut my UPS calendar's January 2009. And when I looked at its blank black sheet with a picture of a speeding UPS delivery truck, I thought it would be a good backdrop for something. A poem perhaps.

Here's that something.

(I fireworked it using whatever little knowledge I have of Macromedia MX).