Guess who’s back?

This blog’s been dead silent for the past month. I haven’t been dormant online though. My tweets and plurks have been coming in quite regularly. I’ve said this many times before, but school just isn’t giving me enough free time to devote to writing/blogging. I’m in school from seven in the morning to five in the afternoon five days a week. On Wednesdays and Fridays, I come home even later since I have UPCAT review classes to attend (the UPCAT test dates draw nearer and nearer—please pray for me!). And then there are school orgs—Red Cross Youth, Rotary Interact Club, and the school paper (whose editorial staff I currently head). During the weekends I’m usually too dead tired (and my brain too overworked) to make an incoherent post.

There have been many issues I’ve been wanting to write about but haven’t had the time to. Should my prediction that school will become less punishing soon turn out to be true, I should be back with my blogging mojo in the near future.

Namaste.

©2009 Deantastic!. All Rights Reserved.

Glad to finally be able to blog again. The first couple of weeks of school have been tough and have given me no time for R&R. More on that in a future post.

Anyway, today’s June 12, which means Filipinos across the archipelago and around the world are celebrating Independence Day. Of course, Fourth-grade HEKASI (heograpiya, kasaysayan at sibika or Social Studies) taught us that June 12 is merely a ceremonial date of independence. Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo’s proclamation of freedom from foreign rule on this day in 1898 was recognized neither by Spain nor the US, and the Americans didn’t give us sovereignty until July 4, 1946. We celebrate it on June 12 now only because of the signature of Diosdado Macapagal (father of current president GolluM Arroyo—considering what she’s doing to the country, he must be turning in his grave!) on Republic Act 4166.

But because Filipinos take every opportunity to suspend classes and revel in the streets, who cares about the actual date of independence, right? Walang pasooook! It’s time to partay!

The celebrations were obviously held in our local Rizal Park opposite the cathedral. (It is common for town centers to be in front of the local church—ironically a vestige of 333 years of Spanish occupation.) After sundown, kwek-kwek and balut vendors flock here to sell their goods. Later on in the evening, this area magically transforms into the red-light district.

The Kastilas of yesteryear have returned para mangumusta! They are pleased by what has become of their former colony. “Astig pare, their leaders today are more corrupt than ours were! We taught them well…” I thought they were there to re-enact Rizal’s execution, pero wala eh. All they did was fling their lances about.

Tourism Sec. Ace Durano was the day’s guest of honor. To his right is our vice-mayor who was substituting for our mayor (ewan kung sa’n si meyor) and to his left, Councilor Marticion who was standing in for our beloved congressman Joboy Aquino (he signed HR1109. Was going to politely ask him why, pero wala siya kasi sinundo niya sa airport si Interior Secretary Puno).

Siyempre pa, the police and the armed forces were in attendance. Bonus points if you can correctly point out who has the biggest belly.

There were also two fire trucks parked adjacent to the plaza, one of which is pictured above. Posing lang sila. Their sirens served as entrance music for the Tourism secretary.

The mega-ginormous Philippine flag.

Flag-raising na! In fairness ha, bilib ako kay Ace Durano. While the vice-mayor and councilor were busy pulling on the ropes to raise the flag, he was standing at attention, right hand to left chest, singing the anthem.

Meron ding prerequisite interpretative dance about our ancestors’ fight for freedom. Shown above, people lying on the ground after being assaulted. Supposedly a metaphor for the abuse our country had to endure during colonial times, although it can also be applied in the present day, in the administration’s blatant disrespect for the people.

Ang walang kamatayang point-to-the-flag pose.

And siyempre pa, the traditional dance! Who ever said teachers couldn’t work what their mommas gave ‘em?

Man kneels as woman dances in a circle around him. A dance cannot be considered Filipiñana unless it has this routine. This clearly preaches the philosophy of female supremacy. Saan na ang gender equality!

After the ceremonies, the different government agencies released white balloons to signify our freedom daw. Obviously this practice is very environmentally unfriendly. Sooner or later, those plastic, non-biodegradable atrocities will burst and slowly fall back to earth where they will only add to our mountains of garbage, or in the ocean where they will unwillingly asphyxiate a fish. Unless, of course, a resourceful young lad somehow finds a way to create makeshift condoms out of the exploded balloons…

My classmates became fans of the Tourism secretary so they asked me to take a picture as they posed with him. It would’ve been a great photo-op, if only another fanatic hadn’t destroyed the shot (see the woman in purple whose hands are obstructing Ace’s face). Also, if you look closely, on the bottom left of the picture is the hand of a policeman trying to get Durano out of the crowd. Aysees, if I know, selos lang si mamang pulis kasi no one wants to get a picture of him.

©2009 Deantastic!. All Rights Reserved.

I am, like many other Filipinos, disappointed at the Senate hearing on the Haydn Kho – Katrina Halili scandal. Disappointed, not so much because it couldn’t have aided legislation in the least, not so much because it was, more than anything, an attempt to pander to women’s rights groups, not so much because it reduced the Senate to bull dung, but because it shouldn’t have taken place at all.

See, the Kho-Halili video is a non-issue. The Senate is in no position to thumb its nose in this mess. Halili’s already filed cases with the proper government agencies. The Senate does not need to hold hearings on it. How simpler can one put it?

And don’t give me any of that “in aid of legislation” shit, either. Bong, I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how your “anong nararamdaman mo ngayon? (How do you feel right now?)”, “alam mo ba kung ilang buhay ang sinira mo? (Do you know how many lives you’ve destroyed?)”, and “anong camera at software ang ginamit mo? (What camera and software did you use?)” questions would aid you or your colleagues in lawmaking. This, to me, was your attempt to paint Kho as the evil criminal, Katrina as the damsel in distress, and yourself as the Captain Barbel, the knight in shining armor. I’m not sure why you’re pandering to women’s rights groups so much (my guess is that you’re trying to gain the trust (and thus the votes) of a sizeable demographic). What I am sure of is that what you’re doing is absolute jack shit and is unbecoming of a supposedly “honorable” senator such as yourself.

I don’t know if you realize this, Senators Madrigal, Estrada and Revilla, but while you make chismis (gossip) in your airconditioned conference room in the Senate, people are starving to death in the streets. Workers are losing jobs. Government officials are robbing the shit out of our nation’s coffers. Our children aren’t getting the proper education guaranteed them by the Constitution. In short, THERE’S A WHOLE SHITLOAD OF THINGS MORE PRESSING, MORE IMPORTANT, MORE RELEVANT THAN A PLASTIC SURGEON AND A YOUNG ACTRESS’S INTIMATE MOMENTS CAUGHT ON CAMERA.

Marocharim rightfully shames the apes in the monkey suits for the utter absurdity of this mess:

Shame on the Senate for scandalizing the people.  The outcry for better social services, the outrage against corruption, the outpouring of hatred against incompetence at the expense of empty stomachs and empty pockets, have been replaced by outcries, outrage, and an outpouring hatred for someone whose crime is a sex video.  Good Senators, the adultery, fornication, and pornography that really takes place here is not a fuzzy sex video.  Pardon my language, but what takes place is the violation of justice; and on this day, at the very least, your refusal to elevate the living conditions of the very people whom you must serve because you chose to investigate a man’s videotaped sexual escapades with other women.

So please, dear senators. Don’t try to pull this crap on us again. Get back to work. Stop kibitzing in other people’s business. We didn’t elect you to talk about sex tapes. We don’t pay you to meddle in showbusiness. Get off this issue and on to more pressing matters (like, say, the Book Blockade, which by the way you haven’t called  for a hearing about yet?). Stop screwing Juan dela Cruz over.

You have long since reduced the Senate to an incredulous, humiliating circus, and the carnival has overstayed its welcome.

***

Pardon the egregious prose. I hope it was tolerable enough to get my point across. -dean.

©2009 Deantastic!. All Rights Reserved.

Slate Magazine’s Dana Stevens doesn’t think much of Angels & Demons (2009, Ron Howard).  In her review, she says that “instead of having Hanks and his love interest stand around in a series of dusty churches,” Director Ron Howard “has them rush really fast through a series of dusty churches.” A.O. Scott, in his critique in the New York Times, thought the movie was “not particularly good” and pointed out that its “utter silliness” could be “either its fatal flaw or its saving grace”.

So the big-name film critics essentially dismissed the film adaptation of Robert Langdon’s first adventure as a so-so work, lacking luster when compared to other blockbusters. With that assessment in consideration, I walked into my local mall’s cinema yesterday, popcorn in one hand and Coke in the other, wary that I would be sorely disappointed.

As soon as the story began to unfold, however, I found myself disagreeing with the meager critiques the movie earned. I was only mildly excited about the plot itself largely because I’d already read the novel (although I was interested in how the book would translate into the big screen—would it be how I imagined it to be, or would I be treated to an entirely different interpretation of the novel?). What got me hooked were the subtle nuances to the enchanting and mysterious Vatican City (particularly  its well-observed rites of conclave), as well as the astute incorporation of the majesty and splendor of Rome—its Bernini sculptures, Raphael chapels and all. Ron Howard did a good job in making sure that the ancient rites of the conclave—the event around which the entire story revolves—were not neglected in the movie, at the same time keeping the overtones subtle to make way for Langdon and Vetra’s wild dash across Rome. With the sealing of the doors, the registering, canvassing and burning of the ballots, and even the new pope’s donning of his vestments, the film easily wins over those who, such as myself, were drawn to the novel for its sneaky incorporation of ancient Vatican tradition.

What can one make of the mad dashes through Rome’s ancient churches? They’re nothing to rave about, really—unless you’re into gory murders. Throughout most of the chase through the four altars of science, Langdon and Vetra are cruelly one step behind the preferiti’s assassin, getting to the murder scenes just after the bells ring to mark the hour and just after another cardinal is murdered. After discovering a body, they oddly mill about the scene of the crime for a while before realizing, “Holy crap, we need to look for a clue that’ll lead us to the next altar! Now that we’ve killed some time—time we badly need—by making chitchat in this ancient church, we won’t be able to save the next cardinal from certain doom!” How conveniently to the detriment of the protagonists, one would think, but the discontinuous rush is heinously to the detriment of the moviegoer, too.

I must commend Tom Hanks’ performance in the film. Although I’ve had my qualms about him taking on the symbologist’s role, he portrayed the character quite well. The Robert Langdon of the movie was the Robert Langdon of the novel—a man enthralled in history (watch him bit his finger in excitement as they approach the Vatican archives) and whose eerie cleverness with obscure, well-hidden symbols makes you smirk.

Ayelet Zurer could’ve been more seductive, though. All she did throughout the movie was tail Robert in her conservative outfit (in the book, Vittoria wore skimpy shorts). She wasn’t so much a love interest as she was a sidekick sleuth who spit out facts Langdon already knew about.

Ewan McGregor’s performance as camerlengo was excellent, in my opinion. He was perfect for the role. His simple garments and somewhat diminutive stature made him stand out amidst the sea of flowing red robes. There was a certain resoluteness in his face and in his attitude that underscored the importance of his role, before and after his father’s death: as a faithful chamberlain who stood in the sidelines and as a man of power (if only temporary power) upon whom the Holy See was entrusted.

To sum it up: judging from the relative indifference of many a respected movie critic, Angels & Demons as a movie in itself is nothing more than unremarkable. On the other hand, I think many of those who’ve read the book will enjoy its silverscreen counterpart. Ron Howard did a commendable job at masterfully transferring Dan Brown’s gripping narrative to film, respecting the many clever, little devices that made the novel compelling while implementing his own cinematic wizardry to concoct a stomachable if not applaudable motion picture.

Ancient rituals, a mysterious scientific organization, and a mad dash through the Holy See and the Eternal City—Angels & Demons didn’t fail to please this Dan Brown fan. In spite of the fact that I still can’t quite wrap my head around Robert Langdon being played by Tom Hanks (whatever happened to Harrison Ford in Harris Tweed?), and that they sadly omitted the novel’s final scene from the movie, I nonetheless give Angels & Demons a deantastic A.

***

The MTRCB gave Angels & Demons an R-13 rating—the same rating they handed to The Da Vinci Code. While I believe that TDVC should’ve been marked PG-13, I understand why they decided to restrict A&D’s audience. It certainly isn’t for the faint of heart, what with the gorish brandings and gruesome deaths that are as graphic on film as they are in words. Don’t take your kids to see this one, and if you or your companion are a queasy symbology buff or Tom Hanks fan, you might want to consider bringing a sickness bag.

©2009 Deantastic!. All Rights Reserved.

That’s right, people. Hitler and Hussein are breaking out their snowgear and skating on the frozen River Styx. Kris Allen, the dark horse, the underdog, has become the new American Idol.

I’ll be honest: I completely wrote Kris Allen off after Danny Gokey was eliminated. After all, Simon, Paula, Kara and Randy clearly favored Adam Lambert, and not without good reason: Lambert reeks of rock and roll, what with his amazing voice and rocking style. Which is not to say that Kris Allen sucks donkey balls—he is no doubt a phenomenal artist, but between him and Lambert, there’s no question (to me, at least) who stands out.

But it was America, not the judges, who chose whom to award the title of American Idol, and with 100 million votes cast, the decision was made loud and clear. Hopefully, most of those who voted for Allen chose him because they thought he deserved the title. Undoubtedly, of course, there are some who voted for Allen for other reasons—perhaps human instinct, which moves us to root for the underdog.

Kris Allen has a great career in front of him.

But in my opinion, Adam Lambert has the potential to go beyond “great”. He has all the makings of a Rock and Roll legend, with or without the title of American Idol. His leathery get-up, dark eyeliner and freaking wicked hair remind me of My Chemical Romance’s Gerard Way and—I will probably draw some flak for this—even Elvis Presley. (Yeah, Elvis didn’t wear eyeliner [did he?], but you get the point.)

So Kris Allen is this year’s American Idol. But you really have to stop and wonder: with all respect where it is due, who really won the title?

[Image taken from americanidol.com. Had to crop Gokey out of the picture—sorry, dude!]

©2009 Deantastic!. All Rights Reserved.

Hello, blog friends!

It’s been raining constantly here in my neck of the woods for the past few days. Cool weather = bed weather. Cool weather = laziness. This week has been full of unproductiveness.

***

We’re halfway through the month of May, which means I’ve got 15 days of summer vacation left to savor. At this point in time, my body clock’s been altered quite a bit—I sleep at 02.00 or 03.00 and wake up at 11.00 or 12.00, when during the school year I usually sleep at 22.00 or 23.00 and wake up at 05.00. In order to prepare for school, I’m trying to slowly switch  back to my regular body clock so I can wake up early and participate in the most awaited part of any student’s weekday, the flag raising ceremony.

I think I’ve become a mild insomniac. I can’t sleep in my bedroom anymore, and even when I move to my parents’ room, it takes a while (and a considerable amount of shifting, twisting and turning in bed) before I fall asleep. I’ve also found out that my body’s gotten so used to me listening to podcasts in bed (and falling asleep with the earphones still in my ears) that I can’t sleep without This American Life or The Tech Guy playing on my iPod anymore. I tried white noise but that didn’t help. I’ve got to get this fixed before school opens.

***

House MD S05E24 was one big pile of confuzzlement for me since the House MD I’m following on Jack TV is Season Two of the series. One big pile of confuzzlement. And the next episode won’t be out until September!

***

American Idol is wrapping up. The season finale is next week, and Adam Lambert will win and Kris Allen are set to battle for the coveted American Idol title.

Seriously though, why do the judges feel the need to kiss Lambert’s ass? “Yo, dude, so listen dawg, you’re gonna be a great artist someday, you’re ready right now…” (I reckon Paula Abdul was singing Lambert’s praises, too, although with her you can’t really tell.)

I was really shocked to see Gokey go, although Kris Allen’s “Heartless” did kick ass. (”Better than The Fray’s version, better than Kanye West’s version!” said Jackson. What slander!) I feel glad for Lambert, though. His career looks slightly more promising than those of past Idol winners. He won’t come crashing back to the ground so quickly. Expect him to fly high for a considerable while.

To Lambert: when you win, try to look surprised, ‘K?

***

Angels and Demons is finally in theaters worldwide! Not here yet, though. Our local mall is uber-kachipan—they have a penchant for screening movies weeks or months after the theaters in Manila and Cebu have stopped showing them. I and my friends even feared that from “Next Picture”, A&D would be demoted to “Coming Soon” (because Gaisano Mall Butuan is Benjamin-Buttony like that). Schoolmate Arbee reports that they aren’t screening A&D just yet. Maybe next week.

On a  related note, I was extremely delighted to learn that unlike its predecessor, Angels and Demons didn’t strike the ire of the mighty Vatican. On the contrary, they quite liked it. Mabuti naman at Pope Benedict and his lackeys decided to stop the rage against Dan Brown’s masterful works’ film adaptations. Of course, the lack of anger toward the film could be merely due to the fact that it does not present any facts or principles that contradict those of the Iglesia Catolica Apostolica Romana. Isn’t that why they banned their faithful from watching The Da Vinci Code?

At any rate, I am pleased to learn that all the peoples of the Earth will be able to watch this interesting, thrilling story that gives viewers a sneak peek inside the Vatican and the ancient ritual Conclave, without restraint. Yay for freedom!

©2009 Deantastic!. All Rights Reserved.

I have, at long last, finished reading Eleven Minutes (Paulo Coelho), the  only novel I managed to read all summer. Big shoutout to Marielle who lent me her copy of the book.

Eleven Minutes took on a difficult task: bringing sex, still a taboo topic in many parts of the world, to a better light.  Essentially, the story revolves around the life of Maria, a beautiful Brazilian woman who becomes a prostitute in a foreign land. at a young age, Maria teaches herself to keep away from love, as she thinks it brings a person only pain and despair. As she keps away from love, she becomes inquisitive about sex. Her view of love is challenged when she crosses paths with a talented young painter who she thinks can show her a different kind of sex, a sacred sex, sex in the sense of love. (A good summary of the story can be found here.)

It was a good read. Not exactly page-turning, but interesting. Throughout the book are excerpts from a diary Maria kept which held her insights into love, sex, seduction, and the crazy world of prostitution she entered. The book did a good job at casting a less disgusting light on sexuality, at saying that it isn’t always the dirtiness society and religion make it out to be. For the critical novel reader, it is a wonderful read. For those who seek to find more meaning to sex, this is a gem of a book, as well.

***

I still have quite a to-read list to go through. I had originally planned on finishing Nineteen Eighty Four (George Orwell), but after obtaining and viewing a copy of the movie adaptation of the novel, I didn’t think reading the novel was necessary anymore.

I’m currently reading The Romanov Prophecy (Steve Berry), an action-packed read about Russia’s Romanovs. I might re-read The Templar Legacy (also by Steve Berry), whose story I have completely forgotten.

My iPhone also has the Stanza app with which I downloaded Emma, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, Persuasion, Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility—all by Jane Austen. (I blame The Jane Austen Book Club for my sudden interest in Austen’s works.) I also have digital copies of The Divine Comedy (Alighieri Dante) and The Kama Sutra (Vatsyayana) *giggle*.

With school opening soon, I’m not sure I will be able to clear up my to-read list. Jane Austen help me.

***

You’ll never guess who just left the Republican Party.

OK, ready? It’s Joe Wurzelbacher! That’s right, the plumber-who-isn’t-actually-a-plumber and unofficial mascot of John McCain’s presidential campaign has left the Republican Party! This from Time Magazine:

SSamuel Wurzelbacher, better known as Joe the Plumber, tells TIME he’s so outraged by GOP overspending, he’s quitting the party — and he’s the bull’s-eye of its target audience. But he also said he wouldn’t support any cuts in defense, Social Security, Medicare or Medicaid — which, along with debt payments, would put more than two-thirds of the budget off limits. It’s no coincidence that many Republicans who voted against the stimulus have claimed credit for stimulus projects in their district — or that Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal stopped ridiculing volcano-monitoring programs after a volcano erupted in Alaska. “We can’t be the antigovernment party,” Snowe says. “That’s not what people want.”

©2009 Deantastic!. All Rights Reserved.

I have less than a month of summer to go before classes begin. I’ve been preparing for it the same way the passenger of an ill-fated airliner prepares for impact.

This afternoon, I made the decision to close down Deantastic Tech, a blog about technology, the web and blogging, which I started barely a month ago. I thought it too heavy a burden, and I’m pretty sure that if I kept the blog, it wouldn’t be one of my top priorities once school begins. I will, however, continue to produce the Deantastic Tech Podcast, although I cannot say for certain how frequently the episodes might come.

I’ve also been leafing through my college entrance exam reviewers in preparation for the many entrance exams I will be taking later on in the year. So far, I’ve only finished answering MSA’s UPCAT reviewer. (The Science and Maths questions are a bitch to answer!)

***

Since the last time I blogged, Manny Pacquiao knocked out Ricky Hatton in the second round of their much-awaited bout in Las Vegas. While some people are not in the least interested in the sweet science, I happen to be a bit of a boxing aficionado (thanks largely to my father). So as Pacquiao and Hatton traded blows (one of them trading more vigorously than the other), I watched intently. I screamed as Hatton attacked Pacquiao…with hugs, clinching and then punching him at close range in what I thought was a ghei maneuver. When Hatton fell in the middle of the first round and again at the end of that round, I screamed again, delighted at the prospect of seeing the Hitman stumble like a drunkard over and over until he could get up no longer.

And when, in the second round, Manny introduced the pompous Hitman to his second loss with a fierce left to the jaw, I—along with countless other Filipinos in the country and all over the world, I’m sure—jumped and screamed in ecstasy.

Call it brutality, call it inhumanity, call it whatever you will. At the end of the day, whether or not he intended to, Manny Pacquiao made us feel proud to say that we are Filipino, at least for one day, at least for one moment in time.

***

Martin Nievera sang the Philippine National Anthem during the Pacquiao fight. Now, I couldn’t sing if my life depended on it, but it doesn’t take a genius to spot what was wrong with Nievera’s rendition of Lupang Hinirang. The first stanza was sung slowly, the pause between it and the second stanza was prolonged, and Martin made banat on the last note a la Star Spangled Banner. That rendition was starkly different from what is taught in public schools and sung in government offices worldwide.

Republic Act 8491, Section 37 sez:

The rendition of the National Anthem, whether played or sung, shall be in accordance with the musical arrangement and composition of Julian Felipe.

Either my preschool, elementary and high school teachers have a reckless neglect for our heraldic devices, or Martin sang the national anthem wrong.

Now, the same republic act requires us to sing the anthem “with fervor”, and I will admit that there have been a few times where I put my right palm to my chest and sang Lupang Hinirang without the ardor of a patriotic Filipino. But for Martin Nievera to blatantly ignore the rule when presenting the anthem in the world stage—even with the unauthorized use of a title card saying that the rendition was approved by the National Historical Institute—is annoying. Not blood-boiling, not infuriating, but annoying. Irritating. Especially considering the fact that artists who sang the Lupang Hinirang in Pacquiao’s past fights were in hot water for the very same mistake.

Martin’s take on his rendition:

“Well, it’s gonna be hard for me to apologize for something that I am not sorry for. I did not ask to do the anthem. Manny Pacquiao himself asked me to sing the national anthem.

“It was my honor to be blessed with this awesome responsibility and I have no one to apologize to because Manny asked me to sing this song.  Obviously, he wants me to sing it the way I would sing it. I didn’t change any of the notes. I did not make it R&B.”

Manny asked you to sing it so you don’t have to apologize to anybody. Case closed. Makes sense.

***

The Pacquiao bout also gave us a glimpse of the 2010 elections. As did the fight, next year’s campaign will feature savage people trading punches and low blows, doing ridiculous things to themselves and their opponents in order to gain a coveted title as well as the cheers of the people.

Politicians wasted no time in leveraging the fight to benefit their campaigns. Gilbert Teodoro—oh, wait, I’m sorry, I meant Ka Gibo—purchased some airtime, although his advert was reportedly booed in cinemas.  My local cable provider apparently sold advertising space during the bout, too, in the form of a news ticker sort of thing that displayed messages from people with familiar names. “Perseverance is the Key to Progress ,” (or something like that) read the message of one councilor. “Obey traffic rules and regulations,” read another. (That made me go WTF.)

***

Bite me.

The Ako Mismo Advocacy’s viral campaign certainly caught people’s attention, although I think the awesometastic dog tags were to blame.

At first glance, the message Ako Mismo attempts to get across is a noble one: pledge to do something to change the country and the world for the better.

But one cannot help but wonder if that is genuinely what Ako Mismo is for, or if the change-the-world-advocacy is merely a front for something less noble. After all, unregistered site visitors are greeted by a short flash presentation, are asked to cite their pledge (”Ako Mismo _______”), and are provided a registration form into which they can enter a truckload of personal information—name, age, gender, location, profession, even cell phone number.

When you’re urging people to pledge to do something for the betterment of their country, complicating the process isn’t very effective. And besides, I’m not entirely certain putting my advocacy to writing will make me strive harder to accomplish it.

The idea behind Ako Mismo is great. The implementation is another story altogether.

***

PHOTO CREDITS for the Pacquiao picture go to Flickr / coolmel.

©2009 Deantastic!. All Rights Reserved.

Today marks the first anniversary of DeanLozarie.com’s existence on the Interwho.

I began DeanLozarie.com as a technology blog but later reinstalled WordPress and made it the personal blog it is today. (See related post: “Revamping“.) It wasn’t always called “DeanTastic!”, either—I vaguely recall calling it “Dean Blogs” or “Dean Has a Blog” or “Hi, I’m Dean” or something like that.

I’ve always tweaked and changed—sometimes overhauled—the blog’s design. When I began writing here, it sported the ChaosTheory theme. I experimented with a lot of different themes since then. I even created two of my own—first, the Bluestonia theme, which in retrospect was very…ugly, and more recently, the red Plush theme, which was…a tad better than Bluestonia.

For much of its first year, the blog was hosted on PhilHosting. We all know how I feel about them. In February, I moved to page.ph—I’ve had no major problem with them since the move.

DeanLozarie.com continues to be the online repository for my thoughts and ideas. I’ve been able to freely talk about religion and spirituality, love, politics, school,  and even the mundane things of daily life. I’ve been able to share my work with the world.

Thank you all for reading the blog and being the witnesses to the ups and downs, the twists and turns of my Deantastic life. Here’s to more anniversaries to celebrate!

©2009 Deantastic!. All Rights Reserved.

I’ve been thinking about college.

I’m probably getting ahead of myself—I still have ten more months of high school to plod through. I should be thinking about getting my head straight this school year, about clicking my mouse less and hitting the books more, about the frenzy and delirium of Senior Year.

But I’m worried sick about college.

You see, I’ve pretty much decided to take the career path of print and/or broadcast media. I’ve been dabbling in that field for no less than four years now, and I really feel that that is my strong suit.

While in the shower last night, I planned everything out. (aside: I seem to think best while in the shower.) I will go to school, graduate as promptly as I can, and then get a job in a local media firm (Inquirer? Summit Media? ABS-CBN?). After a few years, when I earn enough money and gain enough credentials, I will seek greener pastures (Newsweek? Time Magazine? The Economist? BBC? CNN’s Atlanta or London offices?) and work my way through the ranks.

Only one problem: The Philippine Daily Inquirer, ABS-CBN, Newsweek, Time Magazine, The Economist, BBC and CNN are all old world media outfits. These days, that means that they are effectively the dodo to media’s Mother Earth, the Anoop Desai to broadcast and print media’s American Idol. Newspapers are going to the dogs, all the blogs and websites proclaim, and with the ubiquity of Twitter and the Internet, news networks have found competition in the breaking news delivery market.

So although I am deeply inclined to become a broadcast/print mediaman, my greatest worry is that the market will die by the time I graduate, leaving me with a diploma but without money or a job.

But then again, one can argue that old world media will refuse to die out just like that—it will probably evolve to adapt to the changing times. At worst, they will probably go entirely Web-based. Maybe there will still be a position open then?

If the market shrinks to such a point that I’m financially better off going another way, I’m not closed to the idea of taking up law and working in that field. Lawyers never go out of style. Be it bliss or dissonance, concord or conflict, there will always be the lawyer to rob you of your money standing at the ready. Plus, the many courtroom scenes in movies I’ve watched over the years make the profession seem exciting and therefore enticing. Having the word “attorney” before your name doesn’t sound too cruddy, either.

I wish it were easy to tell where old world media is headed. Were the market much more stable—had Twitter not risen to fame! had Web 2.0 not come! If we were only still filling webpages with marquees, blinky text, and broken HTML markup and publishing them on the soon-to-be-defunct Geocities!—I would have way less to worry about. But since Twitter’s all the rage, since newspapers are losing readership to HuffPo and Slate, I have more than a bit to worry about.

The advice most people give me these days is not to worry about it, to take whatever course I prefer. Do what I love and the money will come. Maybe I should take that advice. Maybe I will.

Maybe I’m too young to not believe it’s going to be okay. It probably will be okay. I will probably end up doing something I love to do and making good money while I’m at it.

Fingers crossed. The future is bright with possibilities.

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Props for the great photo above go to Demi Brooke.

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