Dear Filipinos,

Stop Claiming that You're Spanish!

You (probably) aren't.

Location: All over.
Mood: Venting. Perhaps a bit ranting.

It happened again. I met a Filipino guy more Asian looking than I am, claim that he was Spanish.

Uhhmm. No. I wouldn't bet on it.

I am sick and tired of Filipinos claiming this all because they have a Hispanic name. I was about to write a rant - which I justify not just as mere venting, but also a public service announcement - but I realized I've done this a long time ago.

As such, here's a modified version of a presentation I did for a class I had during the Winter of 2010 (Dr. Margo Husby's GNST 500) . This is ripped, truncated, and modified from what I handed to be marked.

Boldened sections can serve as cliff notes. The first person (I, We, Us) is used for both my Filipino lineage, and my Canadian identity - as much as possible I have made this distinct. Yes, the writing is sloppy for an essay, because it isn't one - as I said, it's fleshed out notes from a presentation/speech I did on the 6th of March 2010. The audience? Non Filipinos.

Almost every Philippine born Filipino I have met claims to be a product of the intermarriage between Spanish colonial officers and Indigenous Filipinos. That they are Spain's descendants. That they have Mestizo Or mixed Heritage. First evidence they have is the name. Indeed, such Spanish names feature prominently in my own history. In my Dad's side the family names of Fernando, Diaz, and Perez all stand out. Whilst in my Mother's side Rubio, Bello, Bueno, and Manzano take prominence.

But, the reasoning that these Hispanic names must mean a Spanish heritage is flawed! Mating was not a prerequisite to adopt the Spanish name - merely converting to Christianity and swearing allegiance to Spain was enough.

As a second piece of evidence, Filipinos might mention that their parents, and their grandparents, and great grandparents, and so on and so forth, all their known ancestors were landowners – part of the propertied class with vast tracts of land. This is also true for both my Father’s and Mother’s side. They come from completely different regions – having only met in University - but they share that in common.

But again, this is not a surefire way of saying I have some Spanish in me because historically, in administering the colonial empire, the colonists usually would favour certain local leaders to expedite the process. I mean, why reinvent the wheel? Why dismantle whatever local fiefdom or kingdom is there when you could just make their leaders swear allegiance to Spain? It is just as likely that my grandparents from both sides are the descendants of a local tribal leader, as much as they could be a Spanish Colonial Officer or some other Spanish settler. This same logic, applied to every Filipino who claims to be part Spanish, compels me to call bullshit on such claims.

Most importantly, and the main basis for my doubt, is the fact that: It is very trendy in the Philippines to say that you have some European in you, that you are a product of the Spanish Colonial Era.

Simply put, it’s Filipinos being racist. We Filipinos call it “The Colonial Mentality” – that everything foreign, Western, from the Global North (to borrow a Development Studies word) is always better.

In fact, such thinking is so pervasive, that on occasion, the cultures of surviving indigenous tribes are disdained, labeled as primitive and backwards, while on the other hand, it is very cool to claim that your ancestors were Spanish.

Even today, the existing Philippine standards of beauty are still more aligned with light skinned, European features. This is reflected in who gets to be a celebrity, a star: They tend have direct Caucasian ancestry – though for the most part, a lot of them nowadays are actually repatriated children of the Filipino Diaspora – people with actual Caucasian Ancestry. Don't believe me? Just do a search, watch Filipino shows available online, check out who does modeling in the Philippines. They are very white. The short of it is that Filipinos simply LOVE white people. I would even go so far as to say that they want to be white! Check out the skin whitening products available in the Philippines. Check out Manny Pacquiao's wife and her nose job.

And no, dear white people of the audience, I am not trying to make you feel guilty. The privilege that Filipinos give to your features is in no way a slight against you; it is not your direct individual fault that this is the case. If anything, I'm blaming Filipinos with that so called "Colonial Mentality" for thinking this way - they are after all, elevating European/White features above all as the gold standard, well after Colonial control has long vanished.

Still, I cannot put enough emphasis on this: It is very cool in the Philippines to say that you have Spanish Ancestry. In the Filipino context, it is a boast, plain and simple

If you have Filipino friends, you probably have heard of similar claims.

Now, it could very well be that they DO have Spanish grandparents.

But truthfully, unless they have unambiguous proof, as in they actually have a relative that was part of the Colonial administration, CHANCES ARE, IT IS AN OUTRIGHT FANTASY.

In a way, Filipinos who do such a thing are also in effect identifying themselves with power and status. Perhaps not so prevalent anymore, but the power base and the elite of the Spanish era definitely had mixed ancestry. In effect they are saying: “Look, I had powerful and influential ancestors!”

However, the Philippines is not Latin America. Such extensive mixing did not happen.

Evidence - Genetic Evidence - suggests that only about 1% to 4% of Filipinos have varying degrees of European Heritage from the Patrilineal Lineage, or the Father’s Side. It’s a very tiny minority! It’s not like Honduras where the majority are actual mixed race people, or “Mestizos” in the Spanish vernacular.

I say again: unless they have unambiguous proof, chances of a Filipino claiming to be a Mestizo is an outright fantasy. That’s only 1 in 100 to 1 in 25.

To put these chances into perspective, think of all the Filipinos you've met: If 25 of them say they are certain they have Spanish ancestry, then 24 are lying, deluded, or just uninformed.

That's a lot of lying, deluded, or uninformed Filipinos! And that's using the higher estimates. 1% means that out of 100 Filipinos laying claim to some Spanish blood, 99 are liars, delusional, or simply mistaken.

Now, I am critical, because I can be. I am westernized enough to be able to question such claims and ultimately criticize this Filipino Colonial Fetishism – yet Filipino enough that I can get away with it. If you are white, you may not get off as easily. If you want to offend a Filipino, when they go “my Grandparents were Spanish” - despite not looking the part by having the prototypical South East Asian features - you only have to tell them “Oh I’m sorry, I just don’t see it!”. I guarantee that you will certainly lose a friend.

Although it may seem that I am painting a bad picture of Filipinos, do not forget, that we - and I am now speaking as a Canadian and a westerner - we fetishize and positively “Other” distant cultures too – and I’m not just talking about just being open minded, friendly and welcoming. I mean, we fetishize cultures.

Just check out "Stuff White People like".

It’s a very entertaining cultural observation of left leaning, democratically inclined, and globally conscious westerners – be they Caucasian or not. Sometimes it can get a little too biting, but Professor Jared Diamond agrees!

In his work "Guns Germs and Steel", he cautions against Fetishism because it can be dangerous. Especially when expressed in a manner that makes it sound like as though it’s just a few degrees shy of using ‘the noble savage’ label, which really is an underhanded compliment. I emphasize this because too often have I heard “Northern” born people say: Filipinos are so nice.

Correction: The Filipinos you’ve met are nice.

I guarantee you that we – Filipinos – are just as diverse as any other population in that there will be people who are nice, and those who are *ahem* not so nice.

But I digress.

All I’m saying is that, European Canadians do this fetishizing too! Positive kind, but fetishism nonetheless. Not just in a manner of elevating the indigenous cultures of elsewhere mind you, but also of laying claim to their own lineages. How many Fifth or Fourth Generation Canadians, who although practice none of their heritage, still make blatant claims of being German, Irish, Scot, Polish… wherever. How many people claim these exotic lineages, yet practice none or very little of the culture?

Same deal. Because it’s so cool to be from far and wide, we go and say, we’re from elsewhere.

Now, here’s the thing where European North Americans have it good: You have records. Pop on to Ancestry.com and bam! Even if you date back to when the first colonizers/settlers, there’s no denying, you have such a lineage.

Filipinos on the other hand, have no proof.

Not only are Philippine records unreliable, they tend to be non existent.Two nearly back to back revolutions late 1800's and early 1900's, plus a World War kinda does that to public records I guess. And in a country terrible for keeping records at that.

And this is very painful because I’m the kind of person who doesn’t want to subscribe to a fantasy, so I had to have proof. I don’t want to say like so many Filipinos “Oh, I have Spanish Ancestors” without any shred of proof, especially when subscribing to such an idea would situate me in a position of believed superiority. Note the distinction: believed and not factual – I’m not saying a Spanish ancestry is superior – merely that, Filipinos THINK it to be superior.

Ok... ok. I admit that I may have done that in the past - I may have stated that I too had Spanish ancestry. But hey, living in the Philippines where such a claim was common, it's hard not to claim solidarity with something that will make you instantly cool.

..(large portion that is concerned only with the presentation cut out)...

Enter the National Geographic’s Genographic Project.

It takes so long to explain such an extensive program, so you guys will have to do some self research and reading.

...(also omitted)...

Anywho, the gist of it is, you purchase a kit, you take a DNA sample through epithelial cells inside your cheek using a cheek swab, and then you send it back. The vials have a specific barcode that you can use to track progress of the analysis online.

You can either choose the Y Chromosome Analysis, which would determine your patrilineal line – your Father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s, FATHER and so on and so forth into Africa - or your Mitochondrial DNA, which will determine your matrilineal line – Mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s MOTHER and so on and so forth, into Africa.

Ultimately, I chose the Y chromosome Analysis – my Father’s lineage. I did this, not because of any favouritism in my part, but because therein lies a sort of Family mystery. Unlike some Filipino names that are either clearly Spanish – Fernando, Perez, Diaz from my Father’s side like I mentioned; or Rubio, Bello, Bueno, Manzano from my Mother’s side. It also isn’t some native indigenous word that translates to something else like Makisig which means “Strong” or “Powerful” and Catacutan which means “To be feared” – nothing as awesome as these.

It’s not even drawing from something more recent influences like Japanese, Korean, English/American, French. So if my last name is not a native indigenous word, it isn't a Spanish name as far as I know, and certainly not English or anything else, then what the hell is it? I have a sneaking suspicion that it is Hispanized Chinese.

Certainly, this is the case with some famous Filipino names like Cojuangco. Due to records, they have absolute certainty that they had Chinese Ancestry. Perhaps back in the day, there was one Kho Huan Ko, who landed in the Philippines, converted to Christianity, and either a transcribing error by mistake or by design, voila! He became Mr. Cojuanco with a Christian first name. Perhaps...

Similarly, my Dad's last name, Gulinao, has three syllables that can be broken down into three possible Chinese names. Go Li Nao. Could this be the case?

If my Dad's lineage is Haplogroup O or B, then my father's lineage is Asian, and that might lend some credence to my hunch.

Anyone care to hazard a guess?

http://www.flickr.com/photos/adogcalledstray/4580227298/

Now, no discussion of the Genographic project is complete without some criticism.

If you look at the family tree, it would seem that the Asian story is still underrepresented.

In Europe, in the Nordic countries in particular - a place where you'd think it to be a very homogeneous, they've traced two Haplogroups. Asia on the other hand only has two known Haplogroups so far. Does that mean Asians really are that homogeneous? Or is the knowledge base still incomplete? Whatever the case, this certainly wouldn't answer my other questions such as, what kind of Asian am I, to be exact? The strategic location of Philippines still leaves many options. Was he Taiwanese? Indonesian? Malaysian? My Genetic trail stops 35,000 years ago. When did HE move? During the last ice age? Or during the more recent Philippine-China Trade? By “recent” I mean anywhere during the last 300 years. The results they give cannot answer where or how, or when exactly that one ancestor of mine arrived in what is now the Philippines.

Most importantly, it gives no actual answer to my name. I'm still just speculating as to the origins of the "Gulinao" name: Be it transcription error that originally was Guliano, Giuliani, Giuliano, Galeano, etc; Or, as I mentioned, Hispanized Chinese.

Finally, the choice of Y Chromosome or Mitochondrial DNA testing only yields ONE line - a choice between your father's father's father's father's father... and so on and so forth into Africa. Or your mother's mother's mother's mother's mother... and so on and so forth into Africa . It doesn't take into account all the other lineages that eventually converge into me. I suppose I could test some relatives to test my father's mother, or my father's mother's father, but that would get costly real quick.

Anyway, when I told my Dad of the results, I discerned that he would have been happier if the result had said Spanish, instead of Chinese. But being a man of science, he probably was still more interested than slightly disappointed. For him, who has a masters in Animal Sciences, specifically in Animal Breeding, such scientific results are very fascinating. When I let him read the first draft of this speech, he also said, "Hah! You go and tell the world, Son. Go ahead and shut up those flatnosed, stubby legged, dark Filipinos who claim to be something they aren't!" he said.

Admittedly, I'm taking liberties at what he exactly said. I assure you however that it was that brutally frank - I do take after him. Now, there is nothing wrong with being flatnosed, stubby legged, or dark. And my Dad certainly does not disdain such features - you are what you are. But if you are claiming to be something are not, then you probably need to be put in your place. This is not a quarrel against one's actual lineage, but rather a beef against false logic, pretentiousness, and what I would term as self hating racism.

In fact, if you're a Pinay, with such features, Rejoice! ROWR! White boys will be all over you! I'm told they find it "cute".

The point however is that, it's very disconcerting for me and my Dad - self proclaimed men of reason - to hear Pinoys and Pinays lay claim to some imagined Spanish heritage.

...(large portion concerned only with the presentation is hacked out)...

And just to show you how reasonable I am, allow me to now discount my own findings (or more appropriately: The findings of Nat Geo's Genographic Project)

The more I thought about actually proving my own patrilineal line, the less it mattered. The novelty of knowing, did not really fade, but I found less and less utility for it.

Especially since I could really only use it in making this scathing cultural observation against Filipinos - which is something I already do on a daily basis, what with my self deprecating humour.

Most importantly, even though one segment of my genetic bloodline says Han Chinese, I don’t feel that way. I was born into - and spent the first 15 years of my life - immersed in the Filipino culture. There is no trace of anything Chinese in my family, save for what Filipinos in general have already assimilated from Chinese culture - which isn't saying much because Filipinos love to take a little something from every other culture they sample. And that means a mish mash of everything. As most Filipino tour guides say in describing what is Filipino Culture: "... born in South East Asia; traded with the Chinese prior to western influence; spent 300 years under Spain; about 50 years under the Americans; 3 under the Japanese; and nowadays will jump in bed with just about anyone!"

And that, dear Filipinos, in my opinion, is Filipino identity.

It isn't in your blood, it's in how you think.

But even if you will it, it won't happen. So my dear Filipinos, please stop claiming you have Spanish blood, since you - we - probably don't.

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Annotated Literary References:

Arendt, Hannah (1963) Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. New York, NY: Viking Press.

Hannah Arendt’s dissection of Eichmann’s personality and in a sense an analysis of the social mechanisms which allowed the Holocaust to occur.

Cristian Capelli, James F. Wilson, Martin Richards, Michael P. H. Stumpf, Fiona Gratrix, Stephen Oppenheimer, Peter Underhill, Vincenzo L. Pascali, Tsang-Ming Ko, and David B. Goldstein (2001) A Predominantly Indigenous Paternal Heritage for the Austronesian-Speaking Peoples of Insular Southeast Asia and Oceania. Stanford Human Population Genetics Laboratory. Accessed 12 March 2010 http://hpgl.stanford.edu/publications/AJHG_2001_v68_p432.pdf

Diamond, Jared (1997) Guns, Germs and Steel: The Fate of Human Societies. New York, NY: Norton

The famous book by Professor Jared Diamond where he scientifically and definitively dispels any racist interpretation of genetics, human migration, and civilization.

Dorai, Francis & Bell, Brian (2005) Insight Guides: Philippines. Singapore: Insight Print Services.

A superb tourist guide which gives decent background on Philippine History, the Philippines’ present culture as well as its social mores.

Frankl, Viktor (2000) Man’s Search for Ultimate Meaning. Cambridge, Mass: Perseus Publishing

Masson, Anne (Producer), & Mehta, Deepa. (Director). (1998). Earth: 1947 [Motion picture]. Canada/India: Zeitgeist Films.

A dramatization of the partition of India in 1947. This film succintly illustrates how even an ethnically close group of people can turn against each other when their cultural differences and disagreements are given emphasis – even if they had been close friends and neighbours before.

Rizal, Jose. (1996). Noli Me Tangere. (Translation by Maria Soledad Lacson-Locsin). Makati City, Philippines: The Bookmark Inc. (Original work published 1887).

Written by the Philippine National Hero, Jose Rizal, it is not only considered to be a landmark revolutionary literature with its biting social commentary, but also an accurate depiction and novelization of Philippine social mores during the height of the Spanish Colonial era. To this day, it has great relevance; to understand this book is to understand the Filipino psyche.

Sartre, Jean Paul. (1946). Humanism of Existentialism. In R. T. Matthews, & F. Dewitt Platt (Eds.), Readings in the Western Humanities (pp. 311-315). New York: McGraw Hill.

Weiner, Matt (producer) (2008) Mad Men Season 2 [Motion Picture Collection] USA: AMC Films

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Addendum:

Another good book, which I unfortunately had not yet come across when doing this presentation nearly 2 years ago is Rafael Vicente's "WHITE LOVE and other events in Filipino History".

Google Preview here: http://books.google.ca/books?id=5PZXhmERFYMC&printsec=frontcover&dq=white+love+filipino+history&hl=en&sa=X&ei=wFIDT8rwEM3UiAKPk72aDQ&ved=0CC8Q6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=white%20love%20filipino%20history&f=false

Shouldn't have sworn...
because I broke it!

Location: TBA

Well, I uhh... screwed up didn't I? I totally forgot I had sworn to at least finish talking about the revelations (oooOoooh... sounds heavy!) I had when I did my 2006 2007 trip.

"Put it in a book and sell it," she said.

Unfortunately, I'm not marketable. At least what I have to say won't be. I wasn't about to pull punches.

It shouldn't matter, because I could just work on it now, right?
That's true! ...were it not for the fact that I'm leaving for the Philippines again. YAY!

Mid December to Mid January, I'll be gone.

Anyway, cheers!

I intend to add a few more colours to this map:


From this page: http://forge.codedgraphic.com/lakbayan/

Click for My Actual Assessment!!

A Promise.
I, Randy, do solemnly swear to finish this story by Fall of 2010.

Location: Calgary

Narration: Nothing special. Just realized that I haven't touched this in a while.
And OMFG! I rule with the metaphors today.



I like history.

I like it for many reasons.

One of those reasons, and a reason that is relevant to this post, is because it has already passed and is rather immutable. If you actually look far enough through vast sequences of causality, you might just conclude that history happened, happened for a reason, and could not have happened any other way, given what has come prior.

Sure, depending on who's looking, who's doing the interpreting, and what point of view is being assumed, there certainly is room for reframing. However, beyond reassessing the true causes of an event, the motives of the parties involved, and the ultimate significance of an event, there really is no changing what has already happened.

Revisionism notwithstanding...



The reason I say this is because first of all, I just realized that I am not an "at present" blogger. I am not a diarist. I am not a play by play announcer. Most of all, not only am I terrible at predicting the future outcome of events, I am especially terrible at judging how I will look back at myself.

Perhaps it's a self preservation instinct of sorts: To withhold strong, opinionated judgement of a present act or activity, even an opinion or a position, is in a way a means of protecting myself just in case something I am so proud of doing presently would prove to be an embarrassment at a later date.

I also am quite private, despite the amount of stuff shared here. Whatever I share, is now so long ago that it probably cannot be used against me.

More importantly however, it is probably the Existential in me talking:
"Dude, I'm just figuring things out as I go along. Can't really ask me to judge the future significance of this event when I'm still at it... eh."


That said, my Philippine trip's anniversary is closing in on its third year (counting from its end).

It is now history.


In some ways it is bad. Time has its way of eroding a few key details, even to the most profound and life changing of memories.

But in so many ways this is also good.

Wash away the sediment of fine minute detail shrouding the foundation of any experience and all that will be left is the etched landscape, the indelible mark left in the bedrock of your soul.

I will forget a few key things here and there, but at least what I will narrate is what has stayed with me all this time, what has been reified as the lessons of that trip, and the things which truly matter.

The tone will change in that certainly, this will echo the sound of memoirs. Linearity will also be thrown out the window. Regardless, I look forward to getting back at the swing of things. Target time: Fall 2010. (I didn't say I was going to do it fast!)

And yes, I know, some people make trips every year, every season, or hell, every month. I'd like to accuse of them as bourgeois, but really, you don't need much to travel nowadays - be it leisure, observation, or social involvement. I really have just been spending it on one pastime that I'm debating whether it's time to give it up. 1, 2, 3, although at least sometimes I win.

p

A Year Behind

January 31, 2008


Location: My Own Desktop, Calgary, Alberta, CANADA

Composition: Impromptu. With great regret and self disappointment



I am now officially a year behind.

I disappoint myself with this self imposed project. It would be great if my lack of motivation was due to motivation being at a premium - that I were so busy I just couldn't take the time to sit down and put my thoughts and experiences online.

Unfortunately that's not the case. Motivation is just lacking overall. I just don't seem to have the lust for life at this time.

I suppose I was busy for a solid two months with some job I thought would be nice to do. But now that's come and gone, I have no excuse.

T, N49

Calls to Home II

Composition: Homesick for the Philippines.

Location: My Own Desktop, Calgary, Alberta, CANADA

In a previous post where I narrated a call I made to the Philippines, I put in the title of "Calls to Home".

To be honest I don't remember anymore if it was intentional that I referred to the Philippines as "Home", or whether it was only accidental.

Was I going for the ironic suggestion that despite 10 years (almost 11 now) of existence here in Canada, I still consider the Philippines my one and true"home"? Was I going for some kind of poetic writing effect? Perhaps in wanting to sound like a hopeless romantic who pines for where he formed his childhood memories, I made the conscious choice to put that in as the title. Certainly, the latter part of that entry would suggest this to be the case:

"...in order to spend the rest of our lives exclusively with a special someone, we usually cite the one criteria that we HAVE to be in love.

Why can't we be then in love with a place? I mean, when we pick a place to settle, we're pretty much saying that we're going to spend the rest of our lives there."

Considering I wrote that to close the entry, it's not so much a stretch anymore to think that I may have been going for the sentimental effect.




On the other hand, it could have been an unconscious mistake; a Freudian slip of sorts. Frankly I don't remember wanting to hide a latent meaning to what I was writing. Now, whether that was an effect of my inebriation at the time, or just because a lot has happened since then (the original entry was made in August) , I really don't know. One thing I do know though is that if I were truly going for the hidden suggestion, then I was too successful in that I caught it only now. Then again, I'm not that good of a writer, so the possibility that it was subtle enough to escape my notice until now is somewhat unlikely.

Whatever the case, I'm using that thread title again but now with the outright intention to suggest that in the 4 months I spent in the Philippines, I felt a certain sense of being "home" more than any of the nearly eleven years I have spent so far here in Calgary, Alberta.

It's a feeling that I am unable to justify fully at this time.



But justified or not, I felt "home"sick so I gave Cousin Marco a call in his cell, just minutes ago. It's the 30th of December here, so that would make it the 31st there*, New Years Eve. I predicted that there would probably be a gathering in the Gulinao Property and that they would probably all (or at least mostly) would be there. Well, my predictions were correct, and like what happened last year, and every year before that, there was a gathering, and at least an animal was slaughtered for the occasion. The afternoon would see them having goat.

"Talaga? (Really)" I asked, "Ano anong putahe gagawin?(What dishes are being made out of it?)"

"Marami! (Lots!)" Marco replied, "Yung isa my gata, yung common caldereta, at yung adobo, tapos syempre susubok kami ng papaitan. (Well, there's one with coconut milk, then there's caldereta, then adobo, and then maybe we'll see and try if we can make papaitan out of it.**)"

"Oo nga pala (Oh yeah)," Marco continued, " 'Andito kami sa puno ng Caimito, sa pagitan nung babuyan at kusina (We're doing the cooking here under the Caimito tree, in between the pigpen and the outdoor kitchen)"

I closed my eyes and I was there again. With Uncle Captain's*** Roosters crowing in the background, I was there all over again. Amazing how one phone call brings me back and perks me right up - alleviating some other bad feelings.

I later browsed through the photos I took and found this one for reference.


The animal in the above photo is a pig, and those two guys are strangers to me (volunteer helps), but it doesn't take much for me to imagine what the scene may have looked like. Also, that photo is year plus a few days old, during the Barangay Hall Christmas party. Exactly a year ago was Janelle Marlyze's Christening.



Holdonasec...

A year ago? Has it been that long? Hard to believe, but that's how life goes I suppose. Time passing by is inevitable, and I have to realize that pretty soon any sort of life decision wouldn't matter anymore, and that procrastination could postpone any self imposed projects permanently.

Cryptic? I know. I'll elaborate later.






*- I have this thing set to Philippine time, which is Standard Time +0800 UTC, as opposed to Alberta which is - 7 hours UTC

**- That he said 'try' is significant in that papaitan is an Ilocano specialty, and when done in the Tagalog region, I find that it somewhat always ends up being a lighter, slightly more diluted, version.

***- Local elections were recently just held, and My Uncle, the Kapitan, won once again. Good to know that the leadership of Tumana is in good hands, and what's more significant for me is that I could still call him Captain Uncle, Kapitan, or just "Kap".

T

Suicidal
Battling with Seasonal Affective Disorder*

or

Why I haven't been writing too much.


Location: My own depressing existence in Calgary, Alberta, CANADA

Composition: An offshoot of a post I made in some other private forum a week ago. Some parts are verbatim, some parts I tinkered with to suit this one person monologue of a blog.


I really should put into consideration the weather and the general year-round climate of a place if I were to pick somewhere to settle down. I am solar powered. Not having Sunshine does me a lot of damage.

Last year, I WAS NOT here, where I am right now in Calgary, and I had loads of fun. Hell, that's the whole point of this blog - that was the one event that spawned this medium I dub as a one man monologue. "Randy's Existential Trip" I call this, where I embark on a journey to find myself.

Still, because the likely available livelihood and the resulting realistically obtainable life comforts I could attain in the Philippines weren't likely to suit me, I didn't think it was a place where I could settle down, despite the tropical climate completely agreeing with me and all. Alberta ain't so bad, despite the winter, I thought. I'll give it another chance. Well, at least that's what I assumed at the time; having lived in First world Canada and thusly spoiled by her riches. Every day since however, I have been reviewing that position.

Hence the new tone you might have noticed. What tone?

The tone where I pit these two places as if this were a contest. Alberta, Canada and the Philippines vying for a place where Randy will choose to settle - or at least a place to live out a few decades. It is in this respect Alberta is failing. Bad. And it's all because of how I'm feeling right now.

Hopefully I'm not being emo. Emo kids are lame.

But these thoughts; how I'm feeling. So hard to turn away from. It's nagging, constantly there. Just fucking there.

I can't turn it off. It's less troubling than it is annoying. It's winter and I love winter driving. I usually would head out to slide and (since I drive a FWD beater this year, with the Lancer being sidelined) practice my rally style left foot braking at this time. And I have been doing so, with the hope that focusing on something would take my mind away from these nagging thoughts.

Yet, they don't.

Still there.

And no, "these thoughts" that I mention - they're not necessarily suicidal per se in that I wanna "off" myself.

But rather...

A general lack of enthusiasm for existing.

Sad? Oh man, I wish I were sad. Sad was Grade 10. Sad is juvenile. At least sad means things matter enough for you to care to be sad.

This on the other hand? Completely different. It's numb. It's as if nothing mattered enough to be the reason to exist. Being a guy who's secular, I have no arrogant beliefs I can draw from. No stockpile of trite and hackneyed spiritual cliches that give meaning and purpose to the life and existence of those feeble minded enough not to find one for their own.

And in case you feel like it, don't give me one, it'll just piss me off. I don't mean to offend anyone.

I'm a guy who lives for the moment. Moments whose purpose and meaning I have assigned myself.

Yet the moments I have right now, are barely worth living for - at least that's the rationale. Ok, so this summer when I had a lot of good weeks, every day didn't really amount to being good. SO what sustained me? The future - whether mere moments away or the decades ahead that I imagine.

Right now though, nothing. I either have no motivation to think about it at all, or have no imagination at this time.

It'd be great if I were just pessimistic. At least pessimism means I'm trying to imagine some kind of future different from the here and now.

Nothing physical, nothing emotional, and nothing traumatic at all is bothering me. And that's what's so troubling.

I just can't seem to stand not living every day where nothing stimulating happens. Something, anything at all would be nice. I guess it's my fault for not pursuing anything. But how can I pursue anything when I have no motivation at all. Not in this weather. Not without the Sun.





I'm sorry if this post is disjointed and largely pointless. It's a perfect reflection of how I'm feeling right now - disjointed and largely pointless. This too is the reason why I haven't been writing much. It's hard to be objective and true to your writing when you're not being true to yourself. And where you ask is myself? Gone in hibernation for the winter, as far as I could tell.

(28 Mar Update 2010) I'm not depressed in the medicated sense, and even if I were I wouldn't be because I am anti big pharma. That shit'll fuck you up.

T, N48

Why Keep On Telling The Story?
Musings on Life, Identity, Society, Mortality, and how it all ties to this form of storytelling.

Part 1: Life
Part 2: Identity
Part 3: Social Commentary



Location: My Own Desktop, Calgary, Alberta, CANADA

Composition: I don't plan anything. Almost everything I write pretty much just determines it's own course. I may plan and make outlines, but then I wouldn't follow that anyway.



I visit a number of online Message Boards. All kinds of them; running the gamut from a forum for enthusiasts of a certain make and model of car, to something as generalized as a "Dear Abby" for adolescents and young adults.

As well, my level of involvement runs the scale from being a lurker, to even having been charged with moderator and administrative powers.

Now, if one were to make a list of all the forums I frequent, one thing would be conspicuously absent : Forums that cater exclusively to a Filipino crowd. This comes as a surprise to some. For all my pining and my longing to visit the Philippines again this winter of 2007-2008, I don't seem to seek out Filipino online discussions. I do check out other Filipino bloggers (see the links on the side bar), Philippine news, and the other issues regarding the Philippines itself. But other than that, I don't particularly belong to any online Filipino community. This is strange since there is not a shortage of websites with forums catering to the international Filipino. We have spread all over the world as foreign workers, migrant residents, and statesmen of all sorts. And it is for this reason why the Filipino has embraced the internet completely and wholeheartedly. It is a priceless tool for bringing together and communicating with other people from similar backgrounds who have found themselves in such disparate locations all over the globe.

For this lack of participation I have neither an excuse nor justification. I don't have to. I mean, I don't have any participation with any exclusively Filipino online community (except perhaps this blog as a contribution) because that's just the way it works out for me. I use the internet to connect with other people with the same interests - such as the case with my car hobby. Whether I bump into other Filipinos is just incidental.

Besides, this blog entry isn't about my online participation, but rather what I recently just experienced online.

Despite my not browsing too many exclusively Filipino Message Boards, I'd be lying if I said it didn't excite me to find other Filipinos perusing the same message boards that I frequent.

This is what brought on this blog entry.



Once in a while, in a forum with a specific interest, yet with an internationally diverse crowd, you would get "shout out" type of posts. And with enough Filipinos hailing from all over the globe in one forum, it is almost inevitable that sometime in that message board's lifespan there will be a "shout out" post to all the Filipino members.

These kinds of posts always excite me. I always make it a point to show off my Filipino identity by making entries in Tagalog, telling jokes of the variety that would appeal to Philippine humour, or perhaps telling anecdotes that wouldn't mean much to people of other backgrounds but would strike a chord with anyone who would consider their identity and sensibilities to be still mostly Filipino.

One time, just recently, whilst making many consecutive posts in Tagalog, in a forum that doesn't necessarily cater to Filipinos yet has quite the Filipino membership, somebody asked,

"No offense, but Provinciano kaba?" (translated "No offense, but are you from the Provinces?")

No offense?

NO OFFENSE???

"Now why would anyone start off a question with 'No offense' ", I thought. For me, what this means is that, in general, if they were wrong in their suspicions - as in if I were not from the Provinces - I could potentially have taken offense to that assumption. It is a 'loaded' remark, so to speak.

So that begs the question: Is there something particularly bad about being a Provinciano (someone from the provinces) ?

For some Filipinos, yes. Some.

It is a kind of Philippine Elitism. I have already made passing comment of this in another entry.

Manilenos (residents of Manila), and other Filipinos living in the more cosmopolitan urban areas of the Philippines, tend to look down upon the rural and Province dwellers. But not all city folk look down on the Province folk - in fact I worry that since I am making a post about it, that I might impress upon others that it's far worse than in real life.

Still, it exists.

"Promdi" is the derogatory label used. And what it describes is the caricature of the unsophisticated, sometimes uneducated, oft times a simpleton, rural dweller.

Although primarily a prejudice against someone's geographical roots, it is at the same time a class, and ethno-cultural prejudice. In the larger picture, it is a subscription to negative cultural and linguistic stereotypes; the decadent Visayan, the cheapskate Ilocano, the underhanded Capampangan, the vice ridden Batangueno... to name a few.

What's more sad is that these things are not just held as a belief, but they also sometimes come out in practice; Filipinos are quite capable of discriminating against their fellow Filipinos as I have witnessed during my trip (of which I was getting ready for, about this time last year)

It's sad and unfortunate. And just as unfortunately, I have so far failed to narrate too much of these negative things I witnessed.

One excuse I have is that I haven't really gotten around to telling the story of my backpacking, island-hopping adventure. (My last narrative entry was me having a haircut 8 months ago!)
I have so far strived to make the narration in the order as things happened, and I'm not about to break tradition.

Regardless of that fact, reading back some of my previous entries, it seems as though I was all praise - full of nothing but an idealized and romanticized view of the 'Motherland'.

Well, even Rizal, with his intense love and veneration for the Philippines, spoke unflatteringly of all the social ills he saw. In Noli Me Tangere, in dedicating his book to the 'Motherland', he wrote:

"...I will attempt to faithfully reproduce your condition without much ado. I will lift part of the shroud that conceals your illness, sacrificing to the truth everything, even my own self-respect, for, as your son, I also suffer in your defects and failings." (*)


Similarly, though not to the same extent and grandeur as Rizal's works, I originally intended for this blog to not only serve as a place where I could tell my story, but also where I can inject my own social commentary.

And so, a third reason to continue telling the story emerges: to analyze the Philippine condition as objectively as I can. For only in being frank and honest about our own grotesqueries could we ever have a chance of ever fixing them.

Enough of this self-indulgent, 'me me me' crap.



* - From the translation by Soledad Lacson-Locsin.

N47, T

Reminders

Location: My Own Desktop, Calgary, Alberta, CANADA

Composition: Impromptu. Full on Sisig and some Corona Beer. I also have the TV on with Godfather Part I showing on channel 26 on basic Shaw Cable - "Speak Softly Love" occasionally punctuating the movie's soundtrack.





"O, may Sisig ako! (Hey, I brought home sisig)", was the first thing my Dad said the first time we saw each other today.

Ahhhh Sisig. That dish whose origins are actually from leftover lechon ( 1, 2 ) is in itself a perfect example of the admirable Filipino spirit of making the most of what you have - or what you have left.



It was around an hour ago, 6pm maybe. Both him and I just got back from work. Him from his job assembling gigantic fluid valves, and myself from my landscaping job where I either pilot a single axled, big block V8 dump truck with a 12 ton gross capacity, or a measly wheelbarrow only capable of hauling around about 250kg of load per trip.

My parents and I, we never get to see each other until the end of the day during the weekdays. Until a full day's worth of hard work when we get home - that's the only family time we really get in this hustle and bustle Albertan boom economy.

Being the only occasion where we could really get together, you'd think we'd make up for it by having a grand dinner where we talk about the day behind us and the days ahead of us. You know, the stuff you see the Italians, the Spanish, the French or any other Latin culture doing all the time on TV and movies. Loud, boisterous, happy family dinners.



But no, we don't even have time for that.

No time to cook anything. Besides, being in a blue collar line of work means we're also too tired to prepare anything that takes longer than a few tens of minutes. And being in the lower tier income bracket we really haven't enough disposable income to devote to eating out in restaurants too much.

Just microwave something out of the fridge cooked by mom over the weekend.

Open up something canned.

Or maybe on the rare occasion, I may get to have those ready made meals. The kind where the bottom is black molded plastic and the top is clear cellophane that you're supposed to stab with a knife before putting it in the microwave. This is so the heated gases don't pressurize the cellophane to the point of explosion.

Whatever. I always make it a point to not to stab it anyway just so I could have some dinner entertainment. I may have to clean the microwave later, but at least I saw something pop and make a mess.

This is what passes for my daily life here in Canada.



This was supposed to be a place where I'm supposed to be having a much more improved quality of life.

But as I pause and reflect on that - as in, how exactly do I define "Quality"? As far as I remember, this type of rushed and pre-prepared dinners was daily fare when we were still in the Philippines. Mom worked in the capitol and had no time in the mornings or the evenings, and Dad too was busy being an in demand veterinary consultant. So I wonder: Am I necessarily living a better life as I would have if I were in the Philippines? As in, supposing I never moved? Or, maybe I did a re-migration?

It's hard to picture the possibilities for they could range anywhere from the most mundane to the most fantastic. It's hard to really picture anything, for if I learned anything during my travels, anything is possible, really.

Whatever the case, aside from taking home various sorts of images, impressions, and mindsets, I also took home a great deal of self realization.

One of those is the realization that I am actually quite low maintenance.

(oh, they just showed the scene during Michael Corleone's honeymoon in Sicily. You know, the scene where they show Appolonia's boobies)

Where was I? Oh yeah, low maintenance.

I found out that I could exist with very little provided that I get to experience two things: Some excitement once in a while, and the time to pause and reflect.

I found out that I could actually have less, yet still be happier.

As well, I especially remember the words I spoke in reply to the most commonly asked question as soon as I got back here in Canada.

The line of greeting usually went like, "Good to have you back."

"I'm not sure if I'm actually glad to be back", I'd reply.

(Sonny just got killed at the toolbooth. They cut out some of the more violent clips, notably the one where one gunman with the Tommy Gun fires one last burst point blank range to make sure Vito Corleone's eldest is dead.)

"Isn't Canada good enough?" they'd then question me.

"No, it's not that," I then would answer, "It's just that, it totally answered for me the question of 'Can I leave my Canadian life?' The answer is 'Yes, without a second's hesitation.' "


And why is that you ask?

Don't I have any vested interests here?

(Appolonia just blew up inside Michael's car - she triggered the car bomb that was meant for Michael)

Nothing that I can't leave behind.

(Below, my Right Hand Drive, Japanese import, 1992 Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution 1 that's disguised as a III. Photo by Ian Gulinao )

Even now, even after I've just dropped nearly 9 grand into a car that I find so hot, exotic, fast, and absolutely insane in its power and speed potential, I don't think I'd have second thoughts in turning it over - so long as it's for some profit or the same price that I've spent on it so far.

Ok, so maybe I haven't bonded with the thing yet.

My previous car, a 1988 Mk1 Toyota MR2 NA Hardtop, was something I've gone through hell and back. It was a car that I've assaulted blizzards of winter, the promise of springs, the heat of summers, and the gloom of many autumns. It was a car that I knew inside out and then some. I've raced it... I've cruised it... I've driven it for long stretches... for short jaunts... I've even crashed it! I went through everything with that car and knew her character inside out. It handled great, and it was a unique, funky, quirky car. I had the most fun with that thing.

It may have had rust. It was relatively slow and weak. It was less car through and through. However, she was MY car.

Racing photo credits Clockwise from Top Right: Matt Pearson, Shawn Bishop, Shawn Bishop. All posted without permission. Would gladly remove should the said photographers deem this unacceptable usage.

The Lancer Evolution 1 (disguised as a III) however, hasn't really inspired confidence in me - what with all the damned fixables and serviceables I'm finding right now.

Despite that, I'm giving it a chance.
Despite being a car that was the foremost reason why I'm not going to the Philippines this time.

In fact, that's actually why the car is fast becoming one of my biggest regrets; I fucking traded another Christmas and New Year spent in the Philippines just so I could have this car.

And what kind of car did I get?

(Photo by Ian Gulinao)
The suspension, in it's stiffness and lowness, is a tarmac setup meant for absolute speed that it'll be undrivable in the gravel and dead of winter without a few changes. The brakes also need servicing in the form of new Rotors, Pads, and a full brake flush. The underbody needs some undercoating - in Japan they treat cars so disposable, they don't bother to undercoat their cars with the rock proof tar.




And just recently, the 15 year old plastic radiator cracked.I have a full aluminum racing radiator on order, but the wait is killing me. The car, for all intents and purposes, is undriveable in this condition and will be until the rad gets here from Hong Kong. That's what I get for buying an exotic. They're not much. I can do them all myself - in fact I've repaired far worse from the MR2.



It's just that... Right now I'm not sure if my enthusiasm to have a fast driving and awesome handling car is enough to make me want to keep this thing. It's A LOT of car for the cash I shelled out, but I'm not so sure if I'm willing to put up with its quirks as I did with the MR2.

As pretty...


...and as hot as it may be.

Rally racing heritage. 250hp, 0-100kph in 5 seconds. Turbo, All Wheel Drive. Tommi Makinen, anyone?

(Photo by Ian Gulinao)

(Photo by Ian Gulinao)

So anyway... all these. These frustrations, setbacks, and regrets.

They're all swimming in my head right now that, for once, I was thankful the meal that my dad brought home turned out to be take out Sisig he got from Shun Fat, a Chinese Grocery store with a ready to eat meal section.

Despite heating it up in the microwave, despite adding mayonnaise instead of the authentic Ox brain, and despite it not being decadently greasy, it was enough to bring me back to a few months ago when I had Sisig in the Philippines.


I'm not even sure how many times I ate this dish whilst over there. Whatever the case, two instances stand out: During my last hour in Sabang Beach, Palawan (although I had the Tuna Sisig variation), and during cousin Marco's birthday with the Sisig that cousin Jojo prepared himself complete with sizzling plate.

This was food prepared with painstaking preparation and loving attention to detail so that it tastes just right. When it was eaten, it was done so in the loving presence of all involved.

None of this instant, ready made, reheat it up, and then consume, kind of food.

That latter kind isn't so much a meal as it is ingestion of necessary food materials for sustenance. Sustenance just so we could keep on functioning and serving this boom economy that is Alberta's.

I hunger for meals that are at least a bit more ritualized, where food itself is regarded with a bit more respect and art.

More and more the meaning of Tyler Durden's words strike a chord with me...

"Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need"
-The Character Tyler Durden, in Chuck Palahniuk's "Fight Club"

No time for self. No time for family. No time for any real personal fulfillment and development.

Hell, I haven't even got time to update this blog too often.

That's my gripe.



I'm learning more and more that material crap that's turning out to be not exactly all that fulfilling. The Sisig, being a dish of leftover Lechon parts, became a reminder that sometimes, good things could come out of un-extravagant things - you don't need opulence to feel good.


...


I'd like to end this on a happier note - to put a more cheery coda that summarizes my previous rap yet see it from a perspective that's more positive - but I can't.

"The things you own end up owning YOU."
-the character Tyler Durden, from the the book "Fight Club"

(Don Vito Corleone just had a heart attack in the tomato Orchard whilst playing with one of his grandsons)


I just can't.

(Tessio just arranged his betrayal of Micheal during Mama Corleone's funeral. Hey, despite being "impromptu" I do take a while to write things out because I revise, re read, and tweak it many times over)


----------------------


UPDATE: The Next Day.

Here's that good note.

Today, the morning after last night, I had brunch with the family. Kare kare with authentic Bagoong from Pangasinan.

Good stuff.

P

September 17, 2006

Location: My Own Desktop, Calgary, Alberta, CANADA

Composition: Kinda excited from a recent purchase



It's my Birthday.

I bought myself a present.


Seller's photo.


More information later.

T, N46

Why Keep On Telling the Story?
Musings on Life, Identity, Society, Mortality, and how it all ties to this form of storytelling.


Part 1: Life
Part 2: Identity



Location: My Own Desktop, Calgary, Alberta, CANADA

Composition: Sugar rush from Mom's baked Banana cake. I like saying that, "Baked Banana Cake, Baked Banana Cake, Bakedbananacake, bakedbananacakebakedbananacakebakedbananacake..."





The date was the 21st of May, 2007; just about a month after I got back from the Philippines.

The location was right in the heart of the Canadian Rockies, west of the Great Divide.

I was sitting in the passenger side of my brother's Subaru Impreza 2.5RS. We were heading eastbound very early in the morning, going back to Calgary after having spent the weekend in Kelowna for the Knox Mountain Hillclimb.

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As I squinted through the windshield, I saw the sun just barely peeking over one of the numerous sharp and jagged snow capped peaks that characterize the Rocky Mountains. I grabbed both my brother's SLR and my beater Canon Powershot A40, 5 years vintage, and snapped some shots of this special and rare experience.



How rare? Sunrise over any mountain (single or range) in Canada is something I've yet to experience too much of, seeing that here I am living east of the Rockies in Calgary. The closest mountain east of this city is thousands of kilometres away.

This suddenly triggered a few images from my Philippine trip. Having just come back a month prior, those memories were still very fresh in my mind. I thought of all the mountains I had seen whilst there. Whether I saw a sunrise or a sunset over them.
I then also thought of all the sunrises and sunsets I got to see.
What other land features did I see the sun emerge or disappear from? I asked myself. What about bodies of water?
Urban city scapes?
Who did I see and experience them with?
Then I thought of all the people who touched me during that trip...

One after the other memories came rushing forth. I may have been looking and admiring a Rocky Mountain Sunrise, but I was at the same time experiencing a recall cascade. It was like a word association game - just substitute words for experiences - that was unfolding inside my head.




This is the magic of memories.

We don't just store them inside our heads only to be recalled or relived later on. No. Memories are so much more than that. They become a part of us. With every new update to our archive of experiences and sensations; with every new addition to our scope of views; with every new image imbued in our mind's eye, we are irrevocably, irretrievably, and irreversibly changed.


For better or for worse.

And I am a changed person due to my Philippine experiences whether I like it or not. It is to that which I owe many a great changed viewpoints, realigned opinions, and reassessed priorities. It is to that which I blame for as to why there are things which I will never see, think of, or value the same way ever again.

But it doesn't have to be that I now 'see' everything from a whole new perspective. It could just very well be that I now see some things and get a certain feeling of...




Poetry.


Sunrise over a mountain isn't just another sunrise anymore.