Not yet fully sobered up from the feverish events of the Democratic Convention flashing on and off CNN, Hillary’s super wide grin and hashish-happy eyes, Bill’s sagging eye bags, Michelle Obama’s scary ultra-thin arched brows, those crazy Democrat hats, Biden's over-enthusiastic wife, the awkward voice expelled from an equally awkward wiry frame that is Barack Obama (don't they have the same stretched jaws, Michelle and him?), the next president of the United States of America, says the Democrats, overjoyed, welling up, in tears, rolling over a sea of CHANGE, scored by all-American rock anthems, topped with fireworks many times inferior to the Bird’s Nest’s, wherein all the while I was like: you better keep the promise, America, did you not have that same passion with Gore, only to end up with GW Bush, and not once, but twice? it's just too incredible, this possibility of a first black US President, I honestly wouldn’t be too hasty on believing it not until it actually happens and then: why don’t we have that same fervor around here, why can’t our politicians be believable enough? why won’t I ever believe in any of them? my thoughts moving on to how logical the US two-(major)-party political system is, how it made the choosing easier, one is this, the other’s that, stereotypes notwithstanding, the only two groups that have that sort of dynamics here are the National Democrats and the Social Democrats, and yet, their difference is little known, to the Pinoy masa and the rich alike – the wrinkly-white-leathery skinned, cattle-necked McCain came to steal the limelight not a day after the Democratic jubilation, proudly unveiling his running mate: a gorgeous semi-precious all-American, gun-toting white Republican, accomplished politician, the Governor of Alaska, five kids, beautiful blonde family, decent working class roots, and wait – a female? OMG! The Republicans apparently want to make history, too. First black President? Far out! First woman VP? Why the hell not? John McCain must be saying: here’s for disrespecting an old man, Barack. And the Democrats must be going: why, you didn’t even let us wallow in our post-convention euphoria, dang! before scrambling on to dig for the bag of bones of this squeaky clean youngish mother of five, the youngest, born just this April, whose eldest son enlisted for the US Army and will be deployed to Iraq this September, Journalism graduate, daughter to public school teachers – exactly what the aging, pretty well-off traditional politician image of John McCain isn't. The game just got even more exciting.
3 Major Awards (all 3, said to be of equal standing, received P50,000 + trophy)
1. Best in Street Dancing - Jagna
2. Best in Field Performance - Maribojoc
3. Best in Production Design - Pamilacan Island, Baclayon
Minor Awards (P20,000 + trophy)
1. Most Creative - Catigbian National High School
2. Most Lively - Carmen
3. Best in Costume - Dr. Cecilio Putong National High School
4. Best in Instrumentation - University of Bohol
5. Best in Overall Impact - Catigbian National High School
5 Minute Documentary on the commercialization of Philippine State Tertiary Education.
Produced by: Mick Basa
Acknowledgement:
Jeffrey Tupas / PDI
Nisa Opalla / Atenews
Makpil Camacho / UP Min
Moslemen Macarambon Jr / http://www.ympn.org
Karlos Manlupig / LFS
Soundtrack:
"Kalayaan" by Noel Cabangon
"Mag-aaral" by Musikangbayan
This documentary was presented to Ms. Gemima Galang, instructor: Principles of Writing for TV (MC 104). Mass Communication program, Ateneo de Davao University
Unbelievable. They look straight at you, doe-eyed and incredibly cute, you can’t help but stare back as intently, as adorably. Clown fishes.
Clown fishes by their writhing anemone. They have to be the most adorable sea creatures ever. And very brave, too, they don’t dart away at the site of mere humans. I couldn’t believe I met them, just then. And there. At a beach whose coral reef was previously unheard of (at least by me).
Punta Cruz, Maribojoc, Bohol
Anyway, it was only the second time in a year that I actually swam in seawater. Going to the beach for me mostly meant just hanging out with friends, enjoying the view, picnicking, stuff other than swimming. The first time was the previous weekend in
Okay, I know why. One, I don’t know how to swim. I previously thought that you had to go into the deep to actually see the beautiful fishes and corals. Not exactly. In Punta Cruz, the feeling was intimate, the coral reef was only a few meters from the shore and the water was just about chest deep.
Two, I only then realized? My skin burned too fast. So maybe I was a little too carried away, swimming with all the lovely fishes of a heady assortment, blue ones, those striped black and yellow, clown fishes (turns out I only knew so little fishes) that I exposed my back too long under the seething sun. The result? The nastiest sunburn mark ever, brutally slapped on my back.
Three, I don’t know how to swim. Okay. So, apparently, I could still snorkel in the deeper parts with the life vest on. I learned this, in fact, the following week, when another opportunity to go swimming and snorkeling presented itself, I again grabbed it. And at the famous dive site,
Four, I’m really not as adventurous as one would think. But all this, is gonna change. I’m going scuba diving this weekend – not!
Of course I don’t have the moolah to do that, not just yet, moreso, the guts. One step, or one stroke, at a time, I guess. And my skin hasn’t recovered yet. Though ultimately, I don’t think sunburns would matter much any more. (We again went to the beach, in Manga this city, last Sunday, making it the fourth in a row, but remnants of Frank’s powers were still there, the sea wasn’t just as charming that time.) But if come weekend, the beach would again summon me? I don’t think I can say no any longer. Snorkel set in one hand, sunscreen lotion on the other, lord of the seas, here I come!
