Can you feel the FINALS heat?

FINAL period - this is the time when college students cram to meet deadlines for requirements before semester ends. The time when your wall is filled with sticky notes. The time when you take your eyeballs out to spend 12 hours straight in front of the computer monitor writing tons of paper and editing videos. The time when you deprive yourself of sleeping. The time when you see papers haunting you in your dream. Yes, Mr. Finals Stinkinpants is getting in my nerves.. again. I have to do this, do that, write this, write that, make this, make that. Ow ef everything! I can't even decide on whether or not to go to the annual Feast of Tabernacles in Baguio, I've missed it last year and I can't afford to miss it again!!! Boohoo. But once Final period is over, I can just sit back and kiss its ass off good bye. Yeah!

Ano pong sabi nyo, Ginoong Soriano?

Sa araw ng pagliban ng aming propesor sa Filipino, nag-iwan siya ng aktibidad upang kami'y magsuri at gumawa ng repleksyon ukol sa artikulong ginawa ni James Soriano. Ito'y kanyang pinamagatang 'Language, learning, identity, privilege'...

English is the language of learning. I’ve known this since before I could go to school. As a toddler, my first study materials were a set of flash cards that my mother used to teach me the English alphabet.My mother made home conducive to learning English: all my storybooks and coloring books were in English, and so were the cartoons I watched and the music I listened to. She required me to speak English at home. She even hired tutors to help me learn to read and write in English.In school I learned to think in English. We used English to learn about numbers, equations and variables. With it we learned about observation and inference, the moon and the stars, monsoons and photosynthesis. With it we learned about shapes and colors, about meter and rhythm. I learned about God in English, and I prayed to Him in English.Filipino, on the other hand, was always the ‘other’ subject — almost a special subject like PE or Home Economics, except that it was graded the same way as Science, Math, Religion, and English. My classmates and I used to complain about Filipino all the time. Filipino was a chore, like washing the dishes; it was not the language of learning. It was the language we used to speak to the people who washed our dishes.We used to think learning Filipino was important because it was practical: Filipino was the language of the world outside the classroom. It was the language of the streets: it was how you spoke to the tindera when you went to the tindahan, what you used to tell your katulong that you had an utos, and how you texted manong when you needed “sundo na.”These skills were required to survive in the outside world, because we are forced to relate with the tinderas and the manongs and the katulongs of this world. If we wanted to communicate to these people — or otherwise avoid being mugged on the jeepney — we needed to learn Filipino.That being said though, I was proud of my proficiency with the language. Filipino was the language I used to speak with my cousins and uncles and grandparents in the province, so I never had much trouble reciting.It was the reading and writing that was tedious and difficult. I spoke Filipino, but only when I was in a different world like the streets or the province; it did not come naturally to me. English was more natural; I read, wrote and thought in English. And so, in much of the same way that I learned German later on, I learned Filipino in terms of English. In this way I survived Filipino in high school, albeit with too many sentences that had the preposition ‘ay.’It was really only in university that I began to grasp Filipino in terms of language and not just dialect. Filipino was not merely a peculiar variety of language, derived and continuously borrowing from the English and Spanish alphabets; it was its own system, with its own grammar, semantics, sounds, even symbols.But more significantly, it was its own way of reading, writing, and thinking. There are ideas and concepts unique to Filipino that can never be translated into another. Try translating bayanihan, tagay, kilig or diskarte.Only recently have I begun to grasp Filipino as the language of identity: the language of emotion, experience, and even of learning. And with this comes the realization that I do, in fact, smell worse than a malansang isda. My own language is foreign to me: I speak, think, read and write primarily in English. To borrow the terminology of Fr. Bulatao, I am a split-level Filipino.But perhaps this is not so bad in a society of rotten beef and stinking fish. For while Filipino may be the language of identity, it is the language of the streets. It might have the capacity to be the language of learning, but it is not the language of the learned.It is neither the language of the classroom and the laboratory, nor the language of the boardroom, the court room, or the operating room. It is not the language of privilege. I may be disconnected from my being Filipino, but with a tongue of privilege I will always have my connections.So I have my education to thank for making English my mother language. 

Sinagot naman ni Pareng Benjamin Pimentel gamit ang kanyang artikulong pinamagatang 'How my sons lost their Tagalogs: 'Sulat kay' James Soriano'...

My wife and I decided early on that Tagalog was going to be our sons’ first language.It wasn’t easy.In his first days in preschool, our firstborn was miserable, intimidated by a world in which pretty much everyone spoke English.But his pediatrician said not to worry about it. Experts said not to worry about it. They even said that it’s good for kids to be exposed to many languages, that they, eventually, will adjust and adapt.And my son did.It didn’t take long for Paolo to be fluent in English, although he later, sadly, lost his Tagalog.His younger brother grew up with a kuya who spoke to him in English. They had some funny moments. Anton would struggle to tell his big brother, “Eh kuya, I just ano … uh … because … maglaro naman tayo.”But like his kuya, it didn’t take long for Anton to shift from Filipino to English. And sadly, he, too, lost his Tagalog.Well, they didn’t actually “lose” it.It’s still there. They can understand, but would not speak it.But the spirit of my mother tongue is still part of them. I hope someday that they get a chance to use it again, to be immersed once again in that world. It’ll be up to them.Which brings me to James Soriano, the Ateneo senior, whose essay on his own struggles with English and Filipino sparked a heated controversy, especially on the Web.Now, this may surprise many, but I’m glad he wrote that essay. It inspired me to write him a letter.LetterDear James,Unang una, maraming salamat. Mabigat ang dating ng sinulat mo. At alam kong bugbog ka ngayon sa mga puna at batikos. Pero dahil sa iyo, nagkaroon ng debate. Dahil sa ’yo, pinag-uusapan, pinag-iisipan ang papel ng wika sa buhay natin, sa bayan natin, lalo na ng mga kabataang tulad mo.Ipagtatanggol ko ang karapatan mong sabihin ang sinabi mo. Salubungin mo lang ‘yong mga puna, ‘yong mga ideyang kontra sa mga pananaw mo. Kung hindi mo tanggap, OK lang. Pero harapin mo pa rin. Ganyan naman tayo umuunlad at natututo. Ngayon, tungkol doon sa sinabi mo na Filipino “is not the language of the learned” – sakit mo namang magsalita p’re. 

Classy, lowbrow 

Do you really believe the implied equations in what you wrote? English = Classy, smart people. Filipino = Stupid, lowbrow, very emotional people.For I can share with you several instances when knowing just English (and Filipino) really made me feel unlearned.One was when I was in Cotabato in the late 1980s as a reporter covering the lumad, the tribal Filipinos struggling against militarization and social injustice. I don’t speak Cebuano. They didn’t speak English or Filipino.We needed help. And that help came from an unexpected source – a  kind-hearted Italian priest named Father Peter Geremia, who spoke Italian, English and Cebuano. (I’m guessing he also speaks Tagalog since he had lived in Manila where he got involved in the protests against the Marcos dictatorship in the 1970s.) It was one of the oddest interviews in my career as a journalist. Here was this white dude from Europe helping me understand and communicate with my own people. He knew their language. I didn’t. My grasp of English couldn’t bridge that gap.Father Peter was the learned one. Not me. 

Like a chore 

Sabi mo, “Filipino is like a chore, like washing the dishes; it was not the language of learning. It was the language we used to speak to the people who washed our dishes.”Pag nagkita tayo, Tagalugin mo ako. Kasi, bagama’t ang hanapbuhay ko sa Amerika e nakabatay sa kakayanan kong umingles, kasama ng buhay ko dito ang paghugas ng pinggan. Oo, may dishwasher sa bahay namin. Pero, alam mo, pag mga malalaking kaldero ang katapat, puno ng mga latak ng mantika at tirang ulam, kinukuskos ko nang husto ’yon, p’re. 

Condescending view 

Obviously, many got upset because of what they felt was your stunningly condescending view of those who speak Filipino. Well, I must confess, I also once had an intense bias against another language: Spanish.You see, when Filipinos of my generation were in college, we had to learn Spanish, four semesters of it. We hated it. We thought it was useless. We were offended that we had to learn the language of the conquistador, of the Padre Damasos and Padre Salvis. Of the coño kids! 

Regret 

Then I moved to California. Boy, do I regret not taking those Spanish courses seriously. For Spanish may have been the language of the hoity toity back home. But in California, it’s the language of middle-class and working-class people, of immigrants like me. Many of them may seem like the people you somewhat derisively referred to in your essay as the tinderos and the katulongs. As a journalism student, I had to run around the US-Mexico border and came face-to-face with poor Mexicans and Central Americans in Tijuana and Mexicali. How I wished I could speak really fluent Spanish then. As a reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle I was assigned to cover immigration and affirmative action, which took me to Latino neighborhoods all over the Bay Area.How I tried to find the Spanish-speaking me. But there was no such person. There was only English. And English couldn’t help me out. Knowing English didn’t make me feel learned. 

‘Unang nobela’ 

Binigo rin ako ng Ingles noong unang pagtatangka kong sumulat ng nobela.Sa Ingles ko unang sinubukang buuin ang “Mga Gerilya sa Powell Street.” Sa San Francisco ang setting, kaya, siyempre, inisip kong dapat Ingglisin. Pero ayaw makisama ng mga tauhan. Iyong mga beteranong nakatambay sa may cable car stop sa San Francisco, ayaw umIngles. Kahit anong gawin ko, hindi umuusad ang kuwento.Para bagang sinasabi ng mga matatanda, ‘E bakit mo ba kami pinag-iIngles Boying, e mga Filipino kami.’Kaya kumambyo ako. Sinulat ko sa Filipino. Saka umarangkada ang kuwento. Nabuhay ang mga tauhan.Sarap ng pakiramdam.

 Fil-Ams’ yearning 

You want to know why I wanted our children to learn Tagalog? Because when I moved to the US, I met many young Filipino Americans who were disappointed, a few were even angry, that their parents didn’t teach them Filipino, didn’t expose them to Filipino culture. It’s really strange, in a way. Here you are declaring that Filipino is “not the language of the learned … not the language of privilege.” But here where I live now, thousands of miles from our homeland, young Filipino Americans, who yearn for the privilege of speaking that language, are searching for ways to embrace Filipino. 

Baybayin script tattoo 

They take Tagalog lessons, even learn the Baybayin, the original Tagalog script. They even have Baybayin script tattooed on their bodies.Joey Ayala, the folk singer who lived in Berkeley for a time, put it best when he told me, “Things that are distinctly Filipino are often more valuable to Filipino Americans. Filipinos in the Philippines look to the American dream. Filipinos in the United States have the Philippine dream.”
Quite a stirYou caused quite a stir with what you wrote, James. I’m sure you’re still reeling from the criticisms. But like I said, I’ll defend your right to express your views, even if I disagree with many of them. That’s how we learn, after all. I’m guessing your views may still evolve, grow wings, take flight. 

Good sign 

I actually see the backlash as a good sign. It tells me that young people feel strongly about these issues, about language, culture and society. (I don’t get Jejemon, but hey, that’s part of the debate, of the process of finding answers.) And it’s important to remember that culture and language are not static. They change. Consider some of the big changes over the past 20 years.When I was growing up in Manila, pretty much all the TV newscasts were in English. When I was growing up, we got fined for speaking in Tagalog on campus. Five centavos a word!
Well, OK, I hear that still happens in some schools. But I also hear there’s a congressional bill trying to put an end to that silly practice. Progress!Even my eldest son’s attitude toward his first language has been changing. He used to tell me that he really didn’t want to speak Tagalog anymore, “Because it’s not cool, Tatay.” 

Apl.de.ap’s Bebot 

Well, when the Black Eyed Peas’ apl.de.ap’s “Apl Song” and “Bebot” became hits that changed. Suddenly, Tagalog was “cool.”And during our last visit to Manila, he even realized the value of his Tagalog-speaking self when he witnessed a street fight in Ermita.“I understood what they were saying, Tatay,” he said. “One was saying, ‘That’s mine. ‘Akin ’yan.’”I imagine that he could very well have been talking about his Tagalog.For while it’s buried within him, it’s still his. It’s still there.Nandoon pa rin.

http://mb.com.ph/articles/331851/language-learning-identity-privilege


http://opinion.inquirer.net/11655/is-filipino-for-stupid-people 

In memory of what we used to call "in love"

Newsflash: Haven't felt the 'kilig' feeling for quite some time!

    Well that's kind of a bit shocker. I don't know why, but since the start of my 2nd year in college, suddenly 'kilig' and 'in love' poofed out of my vocabulary. Why so? Thus, I kind of prayed to let no guy enter my life just yet for I just can't bear another heartache. And so, God gave me an answered prayer. Oh my Father, I knew I could always count on you! :) But somehow, I miss feeling that I-can-hear-the-bells-when-I-see-him feeling. I miss receiving "Good morning <3" and "Good night <3" text messages. I miss spilling my "kiligness eklavu" to my girlfriends. I miss being distracted whenever I study for exams just because I think about him every single time. I haven't had that lately, which is a good and somehow bad thing though. Well, sure, I am loved by my friends, parents, whoever, but hey I want to feel 'in love' for the nth time around. I want the words 'kilig' and 'in love' to poof back to my vocabulary. I've been struggling to deal with things lately, so I kind of want to have someone who'll say that "Everything will turn out fine. I believe in you." Someone who will give me a tight long hug when fate goes rough on me. Someone who will make me cry for laughing out so hard. I just need someone to make me feel that I am LOVED.

    Where are art thou, my knight in shining leather shoes? It is I, Rachel, waiting for you to turn my blues into a kaleidoscopic rainbow. Please love me for who I am not who I can be. Love, big word huh? One big word you'll never regret of feeling. 

P.S.

I'm not searching for a boyfriend.. just someone. 

xoxo,

Rachel

Perfect tune for rainy days

Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson

Can't you see that it's just raining
Ain't no need to go outside...
But baby, you hardly even notice
When I try to show you this
Song is meant to keep ya
From doing what you're supposed to
Like waking up too early
Maybe we can sleep in
I'll make you banana pancakes
Pretend like it's the weekend now

And we could pretend it all the time
Can't you see that it's just raining
Ain't no need to go outside

But just maybe, laka ukulele
Mommy made a baby
Really don't mind the breakfast
'cause you're my little lady
Lady lady love me
'cause I love to lay here lazy
We could close the curtains
Pretend like there's no world outside

And we could pretend it all the time
Can't you see that it's just raining
Ain't no need to go outside
Ain't no need ain't no need Mmmm MMmmm
Can't you see can't you see
Rain all day
And I don't mind.

The telephone is singing
Ringing it's too early
Don't pick it up
We don't need to we got everything
We need right here
And everything we need is enough
Just so easy
When the whole world fits inside of your arms
Don't really need to pay attention to the alarm
Wake up slow, yeah wake up slow
You hardly even notice
When I try to show you this
Song is meant to keep ya
From doing what your supposed to
Like waking up too early
Maybe we can sleep in
I'll make you banana pancakes
Pretend like it's the weekend now

And we could pretend it all the time
Can't you see that it's just raining
Ain't no need to go outside
Ain't no need, ain't no need
Rain all day and I really really really don't mind
Can't you see can't you see,
You gotta wake up slow

I just love the sound and the serene feel of the rain. And pancakes are the bomb! I can live with just pancakes as my meal for the rest of my life, seriously. So this song pretty much suits for me, minus the fact that I don't have someone to share banana pancakes with. Bummer! -.-

Delayed Success

Rejected! Rejected! Now you just got rejected! R-E-J-E-C-T-E-D.. Rejected!!! - Zoey 101


    Remember how I mulled over taking the exam in Heraldo Filipino, DLSU-D's official publication, on my previous posts? Well, I spent 5 hours working my ass off writing six feature articles, answering grammar and personality tests last Thursday. Skipped lunch, went through the heavy pouring rain with no umbrella then went straight to my first class. After 3 hours, my friend, Jesti, got the immediate result of her exam, and yes, she passed. And as for me, nadda! I can't help but shed tears for some unexplained reason. Bragging aside, I really did expect that I would pass the exam for I think I did well somehow. But an hour passed, class dismissed, got home, still no text message from HF saying that I passed. Got over it for a second or two but it keeps slipping through my mind. "Bakit wala pa? Hindi ba ko nakapasa? Bakit ganoon?" Everytime my phone rings for a message, my heart literally skips a beat, anticipating that it could be from HF. A day had passed,  Jesti was having second thoughts on whether to attend the panel interview or not. Of course, I don't want to be the reason to repress her. The most powerful encouragement that I had to offer was "Pag di mo tinuloy yan, magagalit ako sayo. Ano ka ba." And so she got through the panel and the devastating news was before me.. I didn't pass. I tried not to burst out in tears for I still have to focus on my Philippine Constitution quiz. After the quiz, out of the blue, Mr. Mazo fed us with his encouraging words of wisdom.

"Anything and everything you're suffering right now, it's temporary."

"There's a rainbow always after the rain."

Somehow, it eased the pain that I was feeling. Maybe HF isn't really for me and maybe I do deserve something a lot better as what my crush, Jojo, said. Went home and binge on my a pint of ice cream as I bawl   and utter "Bakit ganoon? Yun na nga lang yung gusto ko, hindi pa ipabalato sa 'kin." Of course, my roommate, Leobhel , had to listen to everything I say and correspond it with advice that'll make me feel better. My bestfriend, Arvie, called and did the same thing. She actually told me a story about her professor and relate it to what I'm feeling, pride is equal to suffering. Amidst everything I felt, it made me realize that I'm blessed to have these people around me who really cares. Another enlivening thought has captured my attention as I was reading Steph Ayson and AJ Perez love story on Candy mag's September issue..

"Thus, we are never left empty-handed. In fact, we have more to be thankful for, like being on the receiving end of God's many blessings. For those of us who have yet to be called back, life has not reached its end."

And Eunice, my shook, shared Toni Gonzaga's favorite quotation.

"It's not failure. It's just delayed success."


I'm now feeling a lot better. I wouldn't let my failure to get through HF uninspire me and stop expressing myself through writing. I'll just take this as an experience that'll make me a better writer as I've always want to be.