My Arowana

My Pet

I had the scare of my life when my pet arowana, a fish of one-meter length, jumped off from its aquarium five feet down into the concrete floor.

The utility man was actually cleaning the tank when the incident occurred. I don’t know why the fish jumped; she could have been frightened or something. These recent days, I was worried coz she seems stressed out, restless, and has lost her appetite. She could probably be in great discomfort. I feel that she is not anymore the pet that used to be graceful. She now shies away from people and stays all the time at an inconspicuous part of the aquarium. Sometimes she leaps up scraping herself into the lid and stripping off a few scales. I really don’t know what happens but some people say that when a loved one is sick or are about to experience a misfortune, your pet cushions them in. Perhaps it’s just pure coincidence that recently, my mom suffered a stroke too and is still in the process of recovering. While I worried so much about my mom, I worried about my pet too. There could be some explanations, but I just don’t know at all...

While the fish wriggled hard on the concrete floor, I was in total panic. I tried to pick her up with my bare hands but she was just too slippery to get hold of. I thought I would get a newsprint or a cloth to control her slick. After some seconds of wriggling, the fish got exhausted. That’s the time I carried her back into the aquarium. She was saved; I was relieved.

When I acquired that fish, it was only a thin measly six-foot juvenile. Making it reach that 1-meter giant meant a lot of sacrifices. In the beginning, it was so wild it jerks whenever I dip my hand into the tank. Changing the water and cleaning the tank was equally daunting. Almost always the fish would jump off and I would pluck it back from the floor and into the tub. I thought it would not last. But my passion for the fish was so overpowering that never in my imagination did I think of giving up. And I made it a point to literally show that I was a friend and the only living creature that would love to take care of her.

Until after a few months, my patience of coaxing and gentle handling paid off. The fish would already come near my hand, poke its whiskers into my finger and allow itself to be caressed. And cleaning of the whole aquarium became much easier. The fish would allow me to carry her into her temporary tub on my bare hands. And when it’s restless, I would just dip my hand into the water and the fish would glide, seemingly feeling secure under my palm. When it’s feeding time, she would know it and before I would hurl the food into the water she would ready her mouth for a snap. And, believe me she could even take food from my hand without snagging my skin!

Her life was never as easy too. There was an instance when after I arrived from work, I found her on the carpet, all dried up and heavily gasping. I thought she would die. But a few hours after I hurriedly hurled her back into the water, she regained her strength. She was saved. In another instance, the aquarium simply gave way to its volume and broke. No one knew it until some minutes and the maintenance technician arrived to service my air conditioner. The technician saw her wriggling limply inside the empty aquarium. And for the second time, she was saved.

When she grew to be about a foot-and-a-half long, I transferred her to the company’s huge aquarium just right of the entrance within the Admin building. Since that day, that aquarium became her permanent dwelling until she grew up to her current length of 1 meter. And in the office, she is the center of attraction. Everyone passing by the area can’t help but take a minute or two to look at her and admire her sheer size and beauty. She seemed to be the awe of my company; the calming factor to everyone’s stressful job; the power that soothes ones engrossed mind from the hustles and bustles of responsibilities. She is the apple of everyone’s eyes. And every time someone watches her, she looks straight back, shows herself off and gracefully glides back and forth to the center of the aquarium, apparently in total enjoyment of the attention.

But most of all, she seems to recognize I am her master. Whenever I submerge my hand into her tank, she would come near. And she doesn’t care if I would poke her whiskers, or open her mouth with my finger, or even hold her tail and pull her whole body letting her through enjoying the ride. When I do this, everyone would look in astonishment.

I don’t know how long my arowana lives. But I hope she will continue to be my pet for many more years.

Loloy's Text

It just came to me this morning to send a text message to my nephew, “Loy, I’m sick and tired of working here already. I feel like coming back home. I don’t know...”

It was just one of those usual whining and whimpering slipping out into my cp.

My nephew replied, “Uncle, don’t give up, you can make it. Me here, I weed the farm, climb coconut trees, plow the fields. I do this because this is the only job I know...”

That simple message instantly hit me.

Yeah, I work away from home, I have practically no life here in Saudi, and my heart is laden with homesickness. But I am still lucky. I got work, I’m in the office doing light jobs, I am better paid, and my earnings enable my family to live a better life.

In contrast, my nephew couldn’t even find a job. He dropped out from high school because having cleft-palate handicap, he could not take the taunting and cruel jokes of his schoolmates. And there he is; doing hard labors he wholeheartedly accepts. I know it’s harder there.

Ah! And I thought there is nothing to learn from a person like Loloy. I’ve never been prouder of him. He opened my eyes to the value of my job.

I messaged him back. “Yeah, I will never give up, Loy. And I will never take this job for granted. Thank you for the inspiration.”

CPs Make Us Dumb!

Beware: CPs Make Us Dumb!

(Please don’t take this article seriously. This nonsense can make you dumb – Lol!)

Yes, you read the title right. CPs make us dumb. And since I have been dumb since I was a fetus, I have now become dumber!

I think it was two days ago (I am not sure) when I read over the net (I can’t remember now which site) that the continuous use of cps (cellular phones – if I got it correctly) could make us dumb (or something like that; I can’t remember how it was stated). And my initial reaction was, “##$%@!&*)(=_-[][]!!”

Yeah, it sounds moronic and I don’t even know why I had a good lot of time reading it.

Anyway, the article had just confirmed my belief that there is something more from possessing and using cp’s. I have four active cp’s in use; one is for a roaming, one is for a Saudi line (for wholesome personal use), one is for another Saudi line for (unwholesome, uncanny use – lol), and the fourth one is a company hotline (for strictly serious ‘monkey’ business use – lol). And I don’t remember the number of any one of these lines! In fact, if someone would ask me any of these numbers, I have to go turn my back sneakily from that asking someone, then I would open my cp, search for a conscientious friend in my phonebook, message him up to ask if he could text me my number ASAP. And only when that friend obliges that I can confidently go back to the other waiting, unsuspecting, asking someone to proudly proclaim to him my number. It’s pretty ingenious but only at the expense of a “conniver”.

I remember an instance (I am not sure exactly the date, time, and location) when I misplaced one of my cps (I can’t remember which one). I immediately rattled and it took me a little while to figure out how to address the situation owing to the minimal portion of my brain working for my minimum intellectual requirement at that time. And it took me really hard to figure out what that minimal-portion-of-my-brain was telling me. Finally, it came to me that it wanted me to use my other cp to auto dial the number of the lost one. It did ring – and from inside my pocket!

See my point? Simple memory work like remembering where I placed my cp (which for genius people can easily be handled by the little tissues in their fingers, particularly the thumb) cannot anymore be done by my brain! And all these are because of my excessive use of cps.

Actually, the main reason why cps accelerate brain degeneration (and I have forgotten the meaning of that word too) is because first of all, it perks up the production of laziness-inducing hormones in our body (I can’t believe I just said that seemingly-intellectual statement!). And this is how it works according to a friend whose name I can’t divulge owing to security reasons and I can’t remember his name too. And please don’t relay this information to anyone –

Every cellular phone emits a radioactive force that our brains catch. This radioactive gets into our system and in turn, causes the production of lazy hormones. When these lazy hormones travel inside our body and reach our fingertips, they surprisingly attract keypads! Yes... keypads, and only keypads. And this magnetic attraction finally causes us to press and press keypads all the time! – Thus, the addiction. This addiction is called SMS or “Stupid Messaging Syndrome”. And the key effects are: one, it makes us lazy by depriving us of our ability to perform normal works because our fingers are glued to the keypads all the time, and two, it makes us dumb by reducing our ability to think, analyze, and remember things because all we do is press and press those stupid letters and numbers on the keypads! And the chain reaction just goes endless. With one SMS-infected person sending stupid text messages to others, and the others become infected too, sending text messages to other would-be stupid victims.

I now understand why my boss does not use nor patronize the use of cp. When the best unadulterated minds in the world invented cp’s (and I don’t know whose minds are they), he was so skeptical and uncompromising that he never keeps nor uses any of it at all, in spite of its being a “must” in his job. In case an emergency arises while he’s at home and we need his urgent disposition in the office, all we do is phone one of his aides and tell him to contact our boss. And since this aide happens to be a hundred miles away from my boss’ house, all he does is rush to the open desert, gather twigs, dried camel or scorpion droppings and create fire. Then he repeats the thing over and over until the smoke billows up high and forms something like “S-O-S” (which I don’t know the meaning; but I figured it could be “Son-Of-a-Shit”). That’s the time when my boss scampers. You wouldn’t believe it is so effective that the next time another emergency happened we just pretended it never happened at all. And I am not making up these stories; I mean, except for the “S-O-S” thing; pretty ingenious, huh? My boss is so clever he knows what harm modern gadgetries could do to our bodies. Until now, my boss remains to be so clever while we, the SMS-infected people, have become dumber and dumber every day. 

I wish that some people from the science community could read this journal and invent a cure before all of us become dumber and dumber and dumber. That is, of course, assuming that the science community have never become dumber and dumber themselves too.

Of Bees And Mathematics

I have just read an article regarding the bees. The article mentioned of a study conducted to determine whether bees find their foods instinctively or analytically. Scientists shifted the sources of bee-foods from point to point using a procedure that would interpret their response as based on instinct or mathematics. Surprisingly, the bees were able to locate their foods using compass, err... in a precise mathematical calculation!

Yeah, bees actually know mathematics! I tried to tell this to my colleagues who told me in a “sabayang pagbigkas” that they have never heard of such a story. The only bee they know is the plaster bee in front of fast-food chains at conspicuous locations in Metro Manila apparently opposite or very near another chain with the big letter M. And these colleagues were supposed to be idiots who knew everything stupid like this one.

“You don’t know?” I blurted. “That’s how your brains work? All you know are hamburgers, and fries, and palabok?”

And these friends never even use mathematical calculations to locate these fast-food chains. How they find them? There are two ways. First, they use their eyes to search for that big M. And when they find it, they knew that the fast-food chain with the plaster bee is somewhere near. The other way is to use their nose. Yeah, their eyes and noses are more intelligent than their brains!

Really, I mean I thought that bee-bodies were only composed of the head, the thorax, and the abdomen all stuffed up with dried snot and sticky phlegm! Only recently did I realize how imbecile I was. I couldn’t imagine now how these little intelligent brains really look like and function. I know of people with really huge skulls and small IQs and people with tiny skulls and gigantic worthless brains, and they function no different from my own. I mean we all are afraid of numbers and we have the same craving: to rid the world of math, math teachers, and anything related with math!

Anyway, if bees have this intelligence, they must have known what they’re doing when say, they sting or chase you or perch on your hair. It’s not by accident that these things happen! When I was seven, I was stung by a bee while in deep sleep. In the middle of my dream of trees, and birds, and flowers, and butterflies, and bees, the damn insect got into my ear waking me up in total panic and pain. My mom rushed to pacify, telling me that the innocent insect never meant to kill me; that it probably had mistaken my ear for its hive and the earwax its honey. And I had totally accepted that explanation despite the fact that that sting had left a scar and a tiny depression in my ear canal. “That bee was stupid!” I wheedled myself.

But now, it’s all coming back. Knowing that a bee’s IQ could probably be higher than mine, I now believe that there was a conspiracy; with my beloved mother playing accomplice to the crime. The bee knew it was me, it knew it was my ear, it knew that the wax in my ear was not honey, it knew I was the one who stoned its hive, and it knew I was the one who suggested to Mang Cardo to suck out all the honey from its hive. See my point here? Bees do think, plan, analyze, get revenge, and know exactly the difference between the taste of earwax and a honey.

So, if bees have intelligence, it follows that other insects may also have. And if the insects know mathematics, it follows that they also know how to read and write! Could it be that some insects actually read and write journals, even answer trivia? Could it be that some of the top ten trivia players are actually, er... insects? Well, I know of some. But they are not exactly six-legged; they just have tiny eyes and it’s pronounced “Intsek” (Chinese).

The next time a fly lands on your food, don’t just swat it. First, remember that as it has intelligence and must have read the “Iliad”, listened to Beethoven’s music, or strummed miniscule guitars, it is also good in math. In fact, it must have reached there using advanced algebra and algorithm.

Now that’s the time you have to whack it; coz everyone hates math.

Of Shrinking Brain

I had the scare of my life when I read this article saying that as men age – take note, men – their brains shrink. The article didn’t mention of any reason or cause for such a brain-rattling information and why, of all the sexes, it’s singling out the men. I asked myself if it had something to do with the excessive (or the lack of) bodily production of testosterone or something. Or could it be that men...? Aha!

Immediately after reading such article, I felt my little brain tightened, compacted, and shrunk some more. “Oh God, this is unfair!” was all my startled mind could scream. And I shivered to the thought that my already shrunk brain couldn’t now be detected by the MRI or CT-scan (!).

In 2004, both CT scan and MRI revealed that I had a lesion of 1.2 x 1.4 x 1.9 cm in my brain (yeah, I memorized it!). Although the doctors found no direct connection with my disorientation attacks and vomiting with the lesion, I still feared the thing in my head. Now, I have no idea if my lesion has shrunk together with my little brain or has enlarged inside my skull occupying the whole area left by the shrinkage. And the worse thing is it could have already been doing the “thinking” job for me.

When I read this article, I decided that maybe I should stay away from hospitals, or any place with doctors. It’s because I think doctors can figure out just by the look in one’s face whether or not the person has still something in his skull or that the something has already gone. And I could not imagine myself hearing what the doctor might say when he sees me, “Jap, your brain has shrunk to the size of your lesion of 1.2 x 1.4 x 1.9 cm and in addition, your lesion has gotten bigger than your already miniscule brain.”

Since I was in College, I already knew that something wrong was going on inside my skull. Proof #1: I write stupid articles which nobody reads. It’s not really me doing these stuffs but my shrinking brain.

Proof #2: I feel that I’m somewhat stupid. And I feel that I become more and more somewhat-stupid everyday.

Proof #3: Have you experienced blurting at someone, “Where are my glasses, where are my damn glasses?” only to be yelled at in return, “You’re wearing them, idiot!”

Proof #4: When I purchase something, I arrive home without the item which later on found forgotten at the shop. When I tried not to repeat the scenario, it’s the change of my money I forgot to get.

Proof #5: I asked a friend just outside of the supermarket to look after my little five-year old nephew for a short while as I went in to purchase something my mom asked me for. When I arrived home my mom blurted terrifyingly, “Where is Junior? Where is Junior?!!!” to my startled reply “A, er... he is there – left outside of the supermarket!”

Proof #6: When I go to a place to do something and an interruption occurs, say, a friend talks to me, my confused brain as if just waken up from a deep coma after the conversation would ask “Why am I here?”

Proof #7: My room could be locked from the inside and requires a key to open it from the outside. So if I lock it leaving the key inside, there is no way I can open it from the outside. And I’ve been breaking silly into my own room like a thief since the day I occupied it!

Proof #8: I was talking and laughing with this person for like an hour and when we parted another friend asked, “Who’s that guy?” And as if I was doused with cold water, “Err... I don’t know!”

Proof #9: I was talking to this old lady of like 80 yrs old (and I assumed that her brain was still preserved and as large as when she was 18) and probably she remembered she didn’t have my name yet so she asked, “What is your name again?” “Junior?” I answered. “Oh, and I thought you’re already dead!” My mind shrank some more screaming “Arrrgggghhh!”

Proof #10: I noticed an inactive personnel folder filed together with that of the active personnel. When I told this to the staff in-charge, he screamed to alert who might have been responsible, “...and who was the really, really nice guy who used this person’s file and never returned it properly?!” I thought for a while... then looked at him and answered coyly, “Me?”

Proof #11: If something comes to my mind, I have to immediately write it; otherwise, I will forget it.

Proof #12: Err, just a minute... Let me figure out what I thought I should write here. (Thinking, thinking, thinking... After 5 hrs of thinking and tearing of hair) Ok, I give up. My stupid lesioned, shrunk brain had it on me again.

If you experience the same symptoms especially with “proofs 2, 11, and 12” then you’re 100% brain-shrunk. But don’t take it too personally coz you’ve got lots of company. And my advice especially for those who are married, try not to feel insecure with the un-shrinkability of your wife’s brain. You just have to feel confident that even if your brain shrinks, something is compensating. Also, if your wife calls you stupid, demeaning names such as “Shrinking-brain idiot!” or “Atom-sized brain!” just absorb it; it’s literally true and I’m sure it shows.

It also helps to think that you are not the only walking man with a shrunk brain on this planet. “Hey, man, can we go bar-hopping tonight? I feel that the shrinkage of my brain has accelerated. Maybe, we can celebrate. How about you? Has your brain shrunk yet?” That could be a good opportunity to have a bonding with someone you don’t even know.

Well, I guess I still have a lot to be thankful for. First, there are you, you and you who, like me, have shrinking brains, and second, I have a nice, enlarging lesion inside my skull compensating for my compacting, deflating brain.

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I had the scare of my life when I read this article saying that as men age – take note, men – their brains shrink. The article didn’t mention of any reason or cause for such a brain-rattling information and why, of all the sexes, it’s singling out the men. I asked myself if it had something to do with the excessive (or the lack of) bodily production of testosterone or something. Or could it be the overindulgence of the hand resulting to excessive release of semen? Aha!

Immediately after reading such article, I felt my little brain tightened, compacted, and shrunk some more. “Oh God, this is unfair!” was all my startled mind could scream. And I shivered to the thought that my already shrunk brain couldn’t now be detected by the MRI or CT-scan (!).

In 2004, both CT scan and MRI revealed that I had a lesion of 1.2 x 1.4 x 1.9 cm in my brain (yeah, I memorized it!). Although the doctors found no direct connection with my disorientation attacks and severe vomiting with the lesion (which left me with a huge question mark inside my skull whether I wrongly consulted veterinarians instead of doctors), I still feared the damn thing in my head that I never returned to see any doctor again for other opinions. Now, I have no idea if my lesion has shrunk together with my little brain or has enlarged inside my skull occupying the whole area left by the shrinkage. And the worse thing is it could have already been doing the “thinking” job for me.

When I read this article, my resolve not to see a doctor strengthened. It’s because I could not imagine myself hearing what the doctor might tell me, “Mike, your brain has shrunk to the size of your lesion of 1.2 x 1.4 x 1.9 cm and in addition, your lesion has gotten bigger than your already miniscule brain.”

Since I was in College, I already knew that something wrong was going on inside my skull. Proof #1: I write stupid articles which nobody reads. It’s not really me doing these stuffs but my shrinking brain.

Proof #2: I know I’m stupid and I can’t help it. And I feel that I become more and more stupid everyday.

Proof #3: Have you experienced blurting at someone, “Where are my glasses, where are my damn glasses?” only to be yelled at in return, “You’re wearing them, idiot!”

Proof #4: When I purchase something, I arrive home without the item which later on found forgotten at the shop. When I tried not to repeat the scenario, it’s the change of my money I forgot to get.

Proof #5: I asked a friend just outside of the supermarket to look after my little five-year old nephew for a short while as I went in to purchase something my mom asked me for. When I arrived home my mom blurted terrifyingly, “Where is Junior? Where is Junior?!!!” to my startled reply “A, er... he is there – left outside of the supermarket!”

Proof #6: My co-employee said, “Mike, I already gave you the report yesterday”. “No, you didn’t” I answered. “Yes, I did, I placed it on your tray!” “No you didn’t and I’m sure of it!” I said shouting as the poor guy left complaining in disbelief. Then later I found the report somewhere on my desk but for fear of getting caught that my memory lapse had it on me again, I hid it frantically and later, threw it sneakily into the trash can.

Proof #7: When I go to a place to do something and an interruption occurs, say, a friend talks to me, my confused brain as if just waken up from a deep coma after the conversation would ask “Why am I here?”

Proof #8: My room could be locked from the inside and requires a key to open it from the outside. So if I lock it leaving the key inside, there is no way I can open it from the outside. And I’ve been breaking silly into my own room like a thief since the day I occupied it!

Proof #9: I wrote this nasty text message intended to my crazy friend, “You fucking jerk, asshole, dick-sucking maniac...!” and it landed into the inbox of my friend nun who replied, “And you...?”

Proof #10: I always feel tired to do any job. The only things I really like doing are sleeping, eating (and having sex).

Proof #11: Whenever I do something nasty, I’m always caught. But when I do something nice, no one cares.

Proof #12: I was talking and laughing with this person for like an hour and when we parted another friend asked, “Who’s that guy?” And as if I was doused with cold water, “Err... I don’t know!”

Proof #13: I have a phobia on the number 13. So, Shhhh!

Proof #14: I was talking to this old lady of like 80 yrs old (and I assumed that her brain was still preserved and as large as when she was 18) and probably she remembered she didn’t have my name yet so she asked, “What is your name again?” “Michael?” I answered. “Oh, and I thought you’re already dead!” My mind shrank some more screaming “Arrrgggghhh!”

Proof #15: I noticed an inactive personnel folder filed together with that of the active personnel. When I told this to the staff in-charge, he screamed to alert who might have been responsible, “...and who the hell used this person’s file earlier and never returned it properly?!” I thought for a while... then bit my lips and look at him coyly, “Me?” to the huge laughter of everyone.

Proof #16: My brain can’t stand the sight of blood. One time I and my co-employees visited another co-employee whose leg broke due to work-accident. I saw fresh blood and stains and I instantly collapsed. So I left the hospital weaker limping and fainting and on a wheelchair!

Proof #17: If something comes to my mind, I have to immediately write it; otherwise, I will forget it.

Proof #18: Err, just a minute... Let me figure out what I thought I should write here. (Thinking, thinking, thinking... After 5 hrs of thinking and tearing of hair) Ok, I give up. My stupid lesioned, shrunk brain had it on me again.

If you experience the same symptoms especially with “proofs 1, 2, 10, and 18” then you’re 100% brain-shrunk. But don’t take it too personally coz you’ve got lots of company.
And my advice especially for those who are married, try not to feel insecure with the un-shrinkability of your wife’s brain. You just have to feel confident that even if your brain shrinks, your balls are compensating. Also, if your wife calls you stupid, demeaning names such as “Shrinking-brain idiot!” or “Atom-sized brain!” just absorb it; it’s literally true and I’m sure it shows.

It also helps to think that you are not the only walking man with a shrunk brain on this planet. “Hey, man, can we go bar-hopping tonight? I feel that the shrinkage of my brain has accelerated. Maybe, we can celebrate. How about you? Has your brain shrunk yet?” That could be a good opportunity to have a bonding with someone you don’t even know.

Well, I guess I still have a lot to be thankful for. First, there are you, you and you who, like me, have shrinking brains, and second, I have a nice, enlarging lesion inside my skull compensating for my compacting, deflating brain.

A Student's English Headache

I wish somebody helps me

Of things that puzzles me

Like words of diff’rent meanings

Same sounds but diff’rent spellings

Like “sail” and “sail” and “sea” and “sea”;

The “mail” and “male” and “flea” and “flee”!

My teacher says it’s easy

But plurals can be crazy

Some words just end in “s”

But others end in “-es”

And worse – “feet”, “oxen”, “mice”

“Alumnae”, “larvae”, “data”, “spies”!

I wish my tense were right

Of verbs that I must write

But verbs differ in form

To rules, some don’t conform

Like “set-set-set”, and “run, ran, run”

Eat-ate-eaten, go-went-gone”!

Another thing that bugs my mind,

To spell the words, O I’m so blind!

And when I try to think about

The words like “out” should be spelled “AWT”

And when instead of writing “knee”

Why don’t we just write “N-E-E”!

You must have known how it feels like

To study things one doesn’t like

Especially when teachers nag,

You’ll never learn to use your tag

Like it is raining, aren’t we?

“Oh, yes they didn’t can’t you see!”

One trouble is this usage

I like its sound but I’m no sage

Coz there are words I do not know

And couldn’t use them right or so

Like “May I dance, Miss over you?”

Oh, well, yes centerly, thank you!”

This subject-verb agreement

I’ve learned with disagreement

With words like “crowd” or “group”, or “class”

We must use verbs like “is” or “was”

But why in this, “The crowd are stunned...”

My teacher I don’t understand!

And there’s the other English,

My teacher says it’s British

It spells these words “theatre”, “centre”

But wrong if you spell “carpentre!”

And for its grammar, teacher why,

It says, “I’m handsome, aren’t I?”

This pronunciation headache

Has given me a heartbreak

While some words I don’t understand,

My teacher forces me to stand

I say, “BURGOYS”, she says “BURZH-WA”

The whole class echoes “HA!HA!HA!”

So please somebody help me please

Of things I couldn’t learn with ease

If rules were only easy

Then I should learn so easily

But all these things have messed me up

Somebody please... come pull me up!

Ocean Of Heads

It was the 9^th of May when Philippine President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo visited Al-Khobar and my Company was one of those invited to send delegates to the gathering of OFWs. There were only eight representatives chosen including me. Actually, if I would have my own way, I would never, ever participate in a gathering like that. Not because I am anti-Arroyo; it's that I hate the idea of people congesting a place, pushing, shoving, even killing each other just to see or hear someone or something. With the modern technology that we now have, there should be no problem just watching these people on TV, or the internet. And I think it doesn't make any difference.

Anyway, as I was appointed leader (which shocked me; probably the criterion was the lesion in my brain) and so, I obliged.

The invitation never mentioned of any specific role for the leader except that he had to wear a Barong Tagalog. I never have worn a Barong Tagalog since I came to Saudi and neither did I have one. So, from my sets of polo shirts, I chose the one which looked like a Barong Tagalog which was not really a Barong Tagalog. I tucked it in, sleeves rolled, pretty much like one of those semi-formal wear. I knew I looked stupid. I could see it in the shocked eyes of my co-employees who said nothing in front of me but their minds I could hear screaming "What a stupid look!"

When we arrived at the venue, Le Meridien Hotel there were like hundreds of people queuing at the information. We passed that hurdle and afterwards, we were instructed to go to the garden. Easy!

The garden was huge but already full of people. There were snacks in a buffet. I thought that the president will just magically emerge there delivering her speech while we would hold a can of soda drink on the one hand and a slice of pizza on the other. It would have been heaven, with the ambiance. But later, we were told to get in to the function room. That was where purgatory started.

With me were over a thousand more standing in front of that door pushing, shoving each other. And the door was not even opened yet! One woman freaked out, "Please don't push! I can't breathe, I'm sweating, and I'm about to collapse!" to the insensitive reply of the others, "Tagalugin nyo po, di namin naiintindihan, Pilipino po kami! (Please speak Tagalog, we don't understand; we are Filipinos". Some clapped their hands like crazy.

And I told myself, "Yeah! Why would she complain? Everyone is sweating to death, everyone is collapsing; everyone is pushing someone. That's normal if you want to kill yourself in a crowd of fanatics. And the problem with our fellow-Filipino organizers was that they idolized Wowowee so much that they wanted to make a repeat of the ABS-CBN stampede, Al-Khobar style. But I could not discount the fact that they were so clever to fill our stomach first before herding us all to that minuscule entrance. They knew we needed the energy to survive with the pushing and shoving and the heat and the indescribable smell of people.

It's what over-congestion can do to your mental health. One can scream, one can clap his hands, one can become patriotic, even worse, one can think that the other persons are platforms he can stomp his feet on when the need arises.

After more than three hours in that state of purgation we were finally able to get into the function room. As I was one of those with withdrawal-compulsion syndrome, I was among the last to get in. Naturally, I was seated at the backmost rows, the farthest spot from the platform where the president was to address the crowd. As I sat, all I saw were oceans of heads. There were black heads, grey heads, blonde heads, highlighted heads, hairless heads, nearly-hairless heads, huge heads, doughnut heads, bean heads, blackheads, whiteheads, and stupid heads – all types of heads!

The other people seated with me were all wearing Barong Tagalog. Since I was wearing a Barong-which-was-not-really-a-Barong, I thought I fit in with the classification.

The program started. Since the stage was just an improvised platform, I could only hear the sound of the emcees. They spoke in English. "Wow!" I said." They must be wearing Barong Tagalog and speak English!" But all I could see were heads! I knew I was in hell.

The next numbers were called. I was surprised why some people in my group stood. God! I was seated in a group of performers! So they stood, went to the stage to render a song number and again, all I could see were their heads. Then another number was called and all the people looked towards my place and another group stood up, rendered their number.

Every time a number was called, people would look to my direction and I could see some of them singling me out probably their minds asking whether I would perform an exotic number, or walk on a tightrope, eat fire, to be targeted by a dagger, or perform magic. And I would cower directing my eyes to the roof or the chandelier or anything that doesn't move in embarrassment of their inquisitive look.

The president finally arrived, stood there on stage. God! I could not see her head! Since she was less than five feet tall, the president's head was like the whirlpool in that ocean of heads. So, I just gratified myself with her voice on the speaker like listening the president's announcement on a radio. That's all I did for the entire length of her speech.

Well, it was not a useless activity on my part, after all. I was able to se the roof of the Le Meridien Hotel, I was able to count how many chandeliers they have there, I was able to smell different types of sweat, and I survived chaos. I did not see how the president really looked like in person (her face on TV was clearer), but I heard the president speak through the huge speakers. That was the most important part.

I think it was my Barong-which-was-not-really-a-Barong attire that gave me luck in that activity. I swear I'll burn it! Grrrr!