Celebrating Undas, Magandang Gabi Bayan and Lolo Narding and his adventures.

candles in front of the house

My family celebrates Undas with customary visits to the cemetery, preparation of atang for the departed souls and putting up candles around the house at night. When we were kids, my two older siblings and I loved seeing the entire house lighted by white candles and their pointed red-orange flame that sway easily with the slightest gush of wind. The chill of the ‘ber months’, the wary tales of ghostly encounters by my Lolo Narding and the tall, dark, irregular silhouettes created by the candles always made this event extra special and spooky to me.

My fascination with the supernatural started with Lolo Narding. As far back as I can recall, he would tell me stories of aswangs, engkantos and mangkukulams every afternoon to scare me to sleep. You see, I despised taking afternoon naps as a child. ‘Tsa Lumen, my nanny, would have to chase me around the house, drag me inside the house and forcibly lull me to sleep. But I never fall asleep; in fact all I do is cry and throw tamtrums. Sometimes, I would sneak out of the house and play in the backyard. People always warned me that afternoons or tanghaling tapat is the time when engkantos come out and play. To a four or five year old child, that means nothing especially if she is used to scare tactics such the bombay who takes away kids who do not sleep, the police who arrests the kids who do not sleep, or even the bad neighbor who kidnaps kids who do not sleep. I mean, really.

I started to get sick almost everyday during those times. I’ll have fever in the afternoons but will quickly resolve at night. It was puzzling how my fever never goes down even with intake of meds. More interesting was the fact that I only get sick when I play in the backyard at afternoons. At night and in the morning after, I was as healthy as anyone in the house.

Lolo Narding came to stay with us then. He is my great grandmother’s second husband from my mother’s side in Bacolod City. My mother tells me that he fights with evil mumus and aswangs back home but to me, he was feeble, thin and old, barely able to walk as steadily as I can. With both my siblings in school during afternoons, Lolo Narding would beckon me to stay inside the house to listen to his stories. At first, I never really paid him much attention until he told me that I was not alone in the backyard. I remembered looking around me, going behind the two huge coconut trees to the kamias and the bayabas trees just to see if there was anyone hiding there. He smiled at me then, seemingly amused that he finally got my attention.

May dwending puti, anak.

Now that really caught my attention. Its as clear to me now as it was then when he told me those exact words. I remember it as Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men said, crystal. And from then onwards, I filled my afternoons with Lolo Narding’s amazing supernatural stories. Nevermind that they never got me to sleep but at least they were able to make me stay put. It usually takes us the entire afternoon and often until bedtime to finish just one story since he cannot speak fluent tagalog. Instead of scaring the hell out of me, our afternoon sessions made me more curious and more determined to see those lamang lupa for myself. But as Lolo said, you never wish for things like that, especially out of curiosity.

Since then, I have always been drawn towards movies, series, stories, or just about anything with spook. When Lolo passed away, his usual bevy of scary stories was eventually replaced by watching Magandang Gabi Bayan (MGB) Undas Specials on Saturday night. Literally, everyone I know would have to come home just to watch this special segment. And sure enough, everyone at school talks about the program for almost one week after. You’d almost feel like a big loser if you missed out on this.

The old arbularyo in this segment reminds me so much of my Lolo. =(

MGB was taken off the air some years ago but the following are some of the vintage MGB Undas specials I found on Youtube.

Last Sunday, ABS-CBN attempted to ressurect a pseudo MGB Undas special, titled KABABALAGHAN in their slot for Sunday’s Best at 10:45pm. Sadly, to me at least, it was terrifyingly boring to death. After the SANIB segment of the show, I called it quits. There’s something about the old MGB UNDAS format that I sorely miss. Maybe the new one lacked the authencity, that gritty, unedited, raw, in your face vibe the former one had in abundance.

Still, Undas should be practiced to remember the dead, to offer prayers and to pay respects to the departed. Not just to play dress up to terrorize your whole neighborhood for sweets and apples.

Ang Babae sa Septic Tank

To all those people who expect to fall, laughing from their seats, I suggest you give this movie a wee bit slack but a lot more credit for being entertaining in a different way. This is not Eugene Domingo doing another Kimmy Dora nor is it about poverty and pedophilia and the Philippines being a 3rd world country. This movie is all about dreaming big, falling hard and then crawling your way out of your hole.

Chris Martinez wrote the script for the movie and I have to say, I just love, love, love this man. I love his Last Order sa Penguin and I love Kimmy Dora to death.  He keeps everything neat and simple and his punchlines never go overboard. His characters are very real and when you try to read Last Order sa Penguin, its as if the characters are right in front of you. Galing, galing. For this Cinemalaya entry, Martinez teamed up with director Marlon Rivera, Eugene Domingo (as herself), Kean Cipriano (Director Rainier), JM de Guzman (Producer Bingbong), and Cai Cortez (Production Assistant Jocelyn).

GIST: Three indie filmmakers are dead set on making an Oscar-worthy film. They have the vision, the right script, the perfect location, the brains to make everything work, and the bankable leading actress in their hands but their fickle minds seem to put them astray from their original plans. The trio gets a reality check when they meet Domingo for the first time and realize that they have to do a major overhaul on their plans just to get her signed on. With authenticity in the movie seemingly gone, a load full of theatrical revisions and incredible diva demands from their lead force Rainier to accommodate her demands in exchange for a small hope of making it big. Although hesitant at first, Rainier caves in when tragedy strikes them and puts them in a tight spot.

The top star falling into the septic tank, to me, means that everyone is bound to have a shitty time and hit rock bottom. But life goes on and you have to find ways to go around your problems and make them work to your advantage. No one stays at the top or at the bottom for too long; you just have to endure, make the most or savor the moment while you can. You make the best out of your misfortunes by learning from them.  And you just have to see the final scene to know what the hell I’m blabbering about.

Comic relief came from Eugene Domingo and the trio’s director-arch nemesis. GAWD. The scene in the coffee shop was really funny. As in WOW, ang galing. Galing…galing. That director-arch nemesis dude should get a slice of the credit. Darn it, give the dude some EXPRESSO. You were annoying and entertaining at the same time. Whoever you are, MORE POWERS to you. I totally enjoyed your scene.  And of course, Eugene Domingo’s performance was CHECK na CHECK.

If the hype about Eugene Domingo winning Best Actress for her role  in this movie is not enough reason for you to see this, then add Best Screenplay, Best Director, Best Film and Audience Choice awardee to your list.

Dilemma about Noda

I usually take a seat at the back, the farthest I can go away from the professors and their trigger-happy, chalk-loving hands that love to point randomly at students and force them to recite. I just hate that. So I dodge their looks and pretend to preoccupy myself with taking down notes, even if all I really do is draw nasty caricatures of anyone in class.  Even when I love the subject, I only find it necessary to talk when I am in a debate, present a report, ask a question, or join in to make fun of someone. But the thing that I hate most in class is the BIBO or the pa-BIBO type who make it their life’s mission to shoot their hands high up in the air every other 5 minutes and talk non-stop, TANGENTIALLY and CIRCUMSTANTIALLY, about things that they THINK are related to the topic. Its basically migraine-inducing.

Noda WAS such a person.

I sat next to her in a basement classroom during college. She was this geeky-looking girl who wore her shoulder-length hair as straight as Sadako’s. Everytime she went to class, you would see a black jacket constantly TIED to her oversized ‘piano’ shoulder bag. She would wear her ultra thick eyeliner behind her ultra thick black-rimmed glasses. This girl also wore layers upon layers of unnecessary clothing. I am used to the ‘walang pakialamanan‘ fashion subculture that UP has but she would come to class as if Philippines is in Antarctica: donned in polo or in tees worn over long sleeves,sometimes paired with jeans and knee-high boots. And did I mention we were classmates during summer?

The first day of class started with us getting seated in alphabetical order. As I sat in the front row, Noda beamed at me behind her black glasses. I smiled back and introduced myself, as I always did for my seatmates. She gave me her real name but insisted I call her ‘Noda’, after her favorite anime character who, like her, is a genius with the piano. After I smiled and nodded politely, I turned my attention elsewhere to try and scan for familiar faces but then she taps me on my shoulder and the next thing I know, she had told me all about her ravishing childhood in some foreign country, her 2 failed relationships and why she ended up in UP and not in ADMU, UST, DLSU, MAPUA, FEU, and other schools in Manila all in 10 minutes. I thought it was nice to have a chatty seatmate especially since the prof looked like he was boring to death.

The prof started by giving us the lecture syllabus and proceeded with his class rules and other academic requirements he wanted. It was fairly typical. By the end of his mandatory speech, he looked around and asked if we had questions. Noda raised her hand and even before she was recognized to speak, she said (as accurately as I can recall, in verbatim):

Sir, totoo po bang may multo sa St. Therese? Kasi po dun ako nakatira. Baka magalit parents ko.

First of all, she was in 5th year and I would have forgiven her curiosity if she was a freshie. Second, were campus ghosts within the scope of PI 100!? Third, I see no logical connection between ghosts and her parents getting mad at their presence. As I contemplated these things in head, there she was beside me: smiling and looking around for affirmation in the class – but all I saw were irritated faces all around, mine included. The prof however was kind enough to tell her that stories would not have been passed around for so long if they had no basis.

So Sir, hindi totoo?

I thought maybe she had a hearing defect or something. But as I learn in medicine now, maybe she had an auditory hallucination at that time. The prof this time said flat out,

50-50.

And with that, I thought the class would have finally ended. As I start to gather my things, Noda raised her hand and asked,

Sir, hindi ba kayo naniniwala sa ibang dimension?

My eyes rolled. I was pissed. Not only was I late for a PE class that was miles away, but I was scared out of my mind that I might have to endure the entire summer sitting next to her.

I must have forgotten to pray that night or I did not pray hard enough to let those migraine-inducing, hand-raising events to not get the better of me. I was literally depressed and annoyed and angry and uninterested with everything about that class after that fateful first day. It was such a pain to come to class and more so to hear her questions and to see her raise her hand to every little darn thing. I just shut down after a couple of days and as the 1st week ended, I was fuming mad at that alphabetical seating arrangement. I was staring into space and praying that the class would end in 10 minutes or less or that for once Noda would be absent. Or better yet, she decided to drop the course entirely.  I was looking for excuses to have the class dissolved, even if we were more than enough to fill a decent-size class room. I was mad, mad, mad.

I remember very little from that class, apart from the 2 required books the prof made us buy (new tagalog versions of Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo) and my new found love in reading Ambeth Ocampo’s works about Rizal. I cannot recall my classmates, their names or if I ever shared a decent conversation with any of them. Everything was overshadowed by my hate towards Noda and her oh-so brilliant, pa-cute questions.

Summer ended. I was exempted to take the finals in that subject and I was freaking happy to exit from that whole miserable experience.

—

Just recently, a classmate from that subject added me in FB. He was kind enough to introduce himself as such and, seeing as I do not remember anyone from that class, I was obliged to add him. We had the opportunity to talk (via chat) and reminisce about our class during that particular summer. It somehow felt weird that this guy would add me after all those years and after all those nightmarish days I spent in that class. Things got even more strange when he told me how funny me and my seatmate were.

Seatmate? Noda?

I told him that I do not remember a lot from that class since it was so long ago. And that he needs to remind me big time. Well, apparently, a lot of people found Noda very amusing although at first they all wanted to choke her with their bare hands for asking those silly questions everytime. But as the days and weeks rolled by, the majority of the class actually found her funny! As in F-U-N-N-Y! In my head I was like,

Are you sure your adding the right person here?

And what was my role in all this super FUNNY business? According to him, they found it funny whenever I would slouch in my desk or nod and roll my eyes everytime Noda would speak up. And after all this time, I thought I did those things very discreetly. I can tell he was laughing in his seat, behind his laptop as he typed with so many emoticons and LOLs and HAHAHAs and exclamation points at every end of his sentences. He told me things I honestly did not remember and even  quoted his favorite Noda lines. My response was all blah, like HAHAHA and LOL and HeartHeartHeart without saying anything at all. I mean, how could I when all I could ever recall was this intense boring pain in my brain?!

We ended our chat after 20 or 30 minutes. My fingers were too tired from writing HAHAHAs and LOLs and <3s so I called it a night. After a few days, a couple of more people from that class added me. All of them had the same stories about me and Noda and how entertaining that class was. They even proposed to meet at the ELBI FebFair for a mini reunion. And I was like,

Ano?

In my head, I’m thinking 1) they must be adding the wrong person, 2) they must have been high on buko pie that summer or 3) I might have been mentally and spiritually absent all those time. And what was more surprising was that every single one of my former classmates are raving about Noda and our tandem. I seriously cannot recall anything from that class more so the FUNNY moments that these people keep on telling me.

Was I THAT detached?! Did I imagine all those annoying things about Noda and if not, why am I the only one able to remember them?! OMG. I think its time I chill, cut people more slack and be more receptive towards other people.

Its time I stop being too judgmental.

The issue is beyond Willie Revillame being a pompous prick

Its not just his face, his obnoxious voice or his extravagant display of wealth and influence on TV ratings that make me want to punch Revillame square in the face. Why is it that networks wage wars to get this prick on their sides? He’s not even funny. This man is disrespectful in every way and thinks too highly of himself. For all the mess that he has created over these past years, I have yet to hear him accept responsibility for his actions. He is arrogant, immature and is too afraid to admit his faults, perhaps even to himself.

I do not know WHY noontime shows were ever reformatted to their current state of tasteless entertainment. I understand the part of giving money and the games and the bevy of sexy dancers and kooky hosts, but I am completely clueless as to the why contestants have to perform or show whatever TALENTS they have before they play. With or without talent, contestants have to make do with whatever wares they have and bite down humiliation as they sing, dance or act in front of national tv. If people want to show what they are capable of, then they should join TALENT SHOWS instead of GAME SHOWS.

I get the fun in doing something silly as in drinking sprees and parties but to make someone do it for your amusement is not right. To begin with, people who are less fortunate flock to these game shows because they need easy money; not because they want to be artistas or the next singing/dancing sensation. Game shows mean to help, I know that, but they tend to exploit the players’ situation by making them perform when they obviously cannot. Actually, most of what we see on TV is geared towards presenting a challenge and then handing out cash to the victor. But every program has to have a selling point or else every program on TV will be boring and redundant. So do Philippine Game Shows bank on making their players look stupid? To a lot of people, I think they call this ‘entertainment’.

So who is at fault: the industry who feeds Revillame’s ego or Revillame himself?

Now that a lot of companies are pulling their ads from his show, Revillame will soon run out of endorsers who fund the prizes in his show. If the endorser are gone, money will go with them. And with money out, will people still go to Revillame’s side? I think not. You put someone else in Revillame’s shoes, have him throw out loads of cash and people might like him just the same. As I see it, people want him and will stay with him because of money and NOT because of his winning personality, brain-splitting humor and God-given hosting skills. Despite several calls that they have abused the 6 year old Jan Jan, TV5 is willing to back Revillame. And why not, the network has invested a ton of money to buy him on board; they’re still not done milking him.

Revillame has always been bastos and TV Execs are always seeking ways to keep their shows ENTERTAINING but Jan Jan’s parents should have been the primary ones to guard their son from abuse. In the first place, how could a 6 year old boy learn to dance ala macho dancer without anyone prodding or teaching him? The boy could have done something else on the show but that dance routine was probably the product of intensive training under the tutelage of whoever was so desperate and sick to make him dance so provocatively and inappropriately for his age.

Come to think of it, are we also to blame? Perhaps the networks think that we get easily turned on by these spectacles. Sometimes I think that we are also immature in terms of what we want as an audience. And its not just game shows, but the same goes for movies, series, telenovelas, fantaseryes, and actors and the other people we see on tv and tend to worship. I want variety, substance and originality but often we get repackaged, formulated and copied works that are just too annoying to watch. And I beg pardon if I am straying from the main issue here.

But alas, Jan Jan and his family recently confirmed that it was the boy himself who learned the routine. Apparently, the boy was mature enough to decide that he wants to be an artista. Even suggesting that he was supposed to use Careless Whisper as his background music on Willing Wilie. So what, Jan Jan wants to be Hayden Kho? Assuming of course that Jan Jan got the idea from Kho’s macho dancing routine with Katrina Halili. How in the world could a boy his age think of using Kho’s infamous dance? Really, a 6 year old child could do that?!?!? Wow, money does work wonders.

Johari Window

I take a lot of things for granted. People even. I suck at savoring THE moment. I cling, I nag and I have the nasty tendency to forget someone and deny they ever existed. Most often, I am unforgiving. I am never good at being subtle and I do not consider a late apology. Mind you, I always burn that in my memory. And it stays there glued, like FOREVER. I am stubborn and I am rational and stupid. I never learn my lessons and I characteristically make the same mistakes, not twice, but as many as I could possibly handle before I cry. Yeah, cry baby too, I might add. But surely, everyone is ironic. Or else everyone could get arrested for being so boring.

I am the ‘usual suspect’ when it comes to almost anything. Not because I am but because I look the part. I may have the habit to pull pranks, gather up the latest gossip and tease people mercilessly; I maybe a lot of things mischievous but I, believe it or not, am not the type to start anything. People who judge me solely on my looks make that mistake a gazillion times over before realizing that they put the blame on me for no apparent reason. And that pisses me off. Do not make me the bad guy. But what pisses me more is when meek and kind-looking people do not own up and instead let the mob lynch me. Karma is a b*tch, I tell you. And I hope someday it catches up to you (in the past, present and future tense).

Maybe because I talk too much or that I talk big. Or maybe I resemble someone from the Sopranos enough to scare their pants off. First of all, I do not intimidate and, as much as I applaud Machiavelli’s preference of fear over love, I do not employ that in my everyday life. Maybe it’s my aura or something that signals other people that I am evil and mad and capable of nasty, nasty things.  One of these days, I should see myself from other people’s perspective. Hello Johari Window.

I remember doing the Johari Window in my SpeechCom 2 class back in college. It was pretty standard and lame and I think it did not serve its purpose. Why? because my friends and I did not take it seriously. And because I did the Johari Window for myself and for my friend. She was suppose to do one for me but she forgot to so that’s that. Anyway, if you want to know more about the Johari Window, go here.

During undergrad, we had this very cool professor for Psychology. He loved to make every member of the class send notes to each other and make us EXPRESS what we feel HONESTLY towards one another. In other words, spell trouble for the entire class. I hate doing letters and have to write to people I barely know but for some reason, I kept the notes I got from this class. The professor’s instructions were simple: TELL THIS CLASSMATE WHAT YOU THINK OF HIM/HER (1) AT THE START OF THE SEMESTER AND (2) NOW (end of the semester). BE HONEST. In total, everyone of us got 35 x 2 = 70 mini letters.

The following were the most memorable I got:

AT THE START OF THE SEMESTER

studious

tahimik

mataray

naghahabol ng grades (in college terms, running for honors not someone who is bound to fail)

MAHINHIN

serious

BIBO

mabait

snob

OC

mukhang laging nagta-top sa exams

classmate kita sa stat. Pakopya manual ha. mukha ka naman nice

Mukhang matalino. may dala palaging Hyman e.

 

NOW

Magulo

madaldal

maingay minsan. snob sa labas ng class

palaging naka-kunot ang noo

favorite ni sir

bukang bibig ni sir

laging may dalang cat bag — hindi mo pwede iwanan sa dorm? lagi kasing nakaharang sa daan

mataray

palabiro

pala-asar

mapang-api — pero mabait ka naman sa akin. Sabi lang ni ___ mapang-api ka. Ni-relay ko lang sa ‘yo.

laging tinatawag ni sir para tapusin ang tula/lyrics/kwento. kaya dapat lahat ng ginawa nating kwento/tula ang title e Ninya’s story or Ninya’s poem. Pero funny naman yung mga dinudugtong  mo kaya okay na rin

laging late

amoy formalin minsan — kaya ba lagi kang nasa pinto umuupo? Pero I like you. peace!

 

Gosh. I wish I kept more of those letters.