Peace Postcards

Ute Kelly, one of the few professors I genuinely admire, invited me to contribute to a project for the 50th anniversary of Peace Studies at the University of Bradford. I managed to send an entry. I had difficulty responding to the prompts right away; so I just wrote what was on my mind, and along the way, I came upon this reflection that I will probably never have had I not joined the project.

In times like this, when the world is in an uproar, I feel funny talking about peace.

On certain days, I find myself poles apart from the idealistic student that I was back in PSID. This is not to say that I now adhere to violence but the last three years have been tumultuous and it made me wonder, “Is peace truly attainable? Is it even real?” After the pandemic, my country was hit by wave after wave of political disasters. Furthermore, world affairs brought incessant news of suffering. As someone working in the field of peace and development, these things affect the work that I do, the place that I live, and the lives of the people whom I love. It is difficult to keep a bright disposition or be hopeful about it. However, if there is one thing I have carried with me from my time in Peace Studies/PSID, it is the thought that while we spend our days worrying about things, we lose the opportunity to be mindful of what is present and worth keeping. Just as how I learned it that anxious afternoon when I was submitting what I believed was a horrible dissertation, I was reminded of it again as I was looking for a photo that I could send as a postcard.

This was taken last February at the little coastal village where I used to spend my pre-school days and long summer breaks. Our hometown always had breathtaking sunsets. I remembered the sound of the waves gently lapping on the shore, the chill of the late afternoon breeze, and the smell of salt in the air… “how peaceful”, I caught myself thinking. Out of the blue, that question was answered.

Perhaps, it is indeed futile to worry about the failures of humanity. Now as I live each day fulfilling my role as a peace worker, I do my best to live with the adage that currently keeps me going but will not burn me out: set aside a time to hope, set aside a time to grieve. Set aside a time to be disappointed but give your best shot each day.

The Trip That Was

The first quarter of 2021 is a picture of too many things happening at the same time.

 

Too many worries, too many problems, too many thoughts occupying my waking life. Lines are blurred as stressful realities merge with anxious dreams. Work and play, rest and grind, worries and aspirations. The Tawi-Tawi trip in itself is the best example of this. I was surrounded by so much beauty and I wanted to marvel at the magnificence of it. But it felt like falling with one foot on the ground. I can’t fully immerse when my worries anchor me to the shore of seemingly limitless frustrations. Ah, such a pity to be surrounded by that much beauty and then forget the experience, not even a month after. 

I am merely floating in a universe of chances.

Happy New Year!

Exactly a year ago, I counted the last seconds of the fading year in the middle of a busy square. I was with seven other people I just met hours prior at a dingy Marrakechian hostel. We all left our countries excited with the idea of spending a lively New Year’s Eve in this historic city. And so there we were, clinging tightly to our coats and sweaters as we stood semi-circle in the middle of the cold Moroccan winter. 

3, 2, 1... the countdown ends and there were no fireworks. My newly-found friends and I looked at each other with confused smiles. Locals in the square took no break from their usual business of peddling soukh-sourced goods. We saw another group of obvious tourists looking as confused as us. Unsure greetings of a happy new year, awkward laughter. The starry-eyed Kiwi boy said he was going to look for his friend who just arrived from Casablanca. The Dutch couple left for a party at a nearby club. The cool Romanian girl said that the German kid still had three bottles of ‘Deutsch fuel’ left and that if we go back to the hostel, we can still snack on the leftover tajines. The Italian-speaking Japanese dude led the way while the tall Belgian parted the crowd of busy Moroccans as we walked away from the square laughing about the weirdest New Year’s Eve we ever had. Should have taken that as a sign for the weirdest, most confusing year ever. 

Ah, I’m so glad to leave 2020 behind. Time is a social construct but may our optimism for the coming year propel a kinder future for all of us. Don’t lose that hope! Happy new year, everyone!

I Am The Sudan Revolution

Let me start my story by talking about my friend Hamid.

Hamid is from Sudan.

I met Hamid in September 2017 at Norfolk Center, Bradford. Bright smile, kind face, gentle heart. Everybody likes Hamid: teachers, students, even the store owners along Great Horton Road. He is hardworking, passionate, and intelligent. He bested the submitted dissertations of the Development Studies Departments of all universities in the UK for 2019 and won a prize for it.

Despite all these, Hamid remains humble and modest. Hamid is unassuming and compassionate. He is always there for his friends. He was a pillar of support when I was hospitalized last year even though he was miles away for a trip at The Hague. In the lowest of times, he was there to lend an ear. He is the kind of friend who will hype you up you’d think you can conquer the world.

Hamid could have stayed in London. He could have found a stable job and started a family. Instead, he returned to Sudan. He came back for what he loved the most: his country. I was very worried when I found out that he got detained last April, a day before al-Bashir stepped down. He has been freed since but I still worry about him—now more than ever.

Every day I breathe a sigh of relief whenever I see a post of his on social media. It is the only testament that he is alive. Every day, I am thankful. And every day I am hopeful that we will meet again in a free Sudan.

Mohamed Mattar's friends are not as fortunate as I. Mohamed is a civil engineer. He graduated from Brunel University in London in 2017. Mohamed was shot by the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) last week during a peaceful protest as he was attempting to shield two women from harm. He is 26.

Eid 2019

Today is Eid, the first day of Shawwal 1440. I am here in Iligan, two hundred kilometers away from my family. I woke up at 5AM, changed into my prayer clothes, and waited for two hours at an unfamiliar mosque somewhere in the city. The Eid prayers started at 7:15. I left the mosque at 7:45, changed into work clothes, and ate my breakfast in the car as we rode our way into Marawi.

I’ve seen the photos and the footages but they pale in comparison to the actual heartbreak of seeing the battered city with your own eyes. I look at Marawi and I see another place. I see Palestine, Syria, Yemen. I see not the city that once was but the fading memory of lives that have passed. It is strange but I taste the sorrow in the air. I may have not seen Palestine, Syria, or Yemen but I feel that the pain would not be much different.

And in a flash, I thought of Sudan. I thought of my dear friend, Hamid, and I was filled with a strong sense of dread. To love is to be weak; and Hamid has so much love for his country it scares me what that love could do to him.

This Eid is my most emotional one so far. I do not pray often. I am honest about that. Usually when I do, I end up crying. Today, I cried a lot. I promise that I will try to pray more than I shed tears. I am scared and anxious but I will continue to hope. Halfway around the world, it is all I could do.

We live and we die; for nothing is more certain than death. But each day we have is a promise and a chance to make a difference. Fortunate are those who can actually do so. I may not be able to do that but I promise to always try.

Today is Eid, the first day of Shawwal 1440. I am in Iligan but my heart beats strong oceans away, with the brave young man whose weapons are his words and whose courage is his shield. He will not fight alone. I can do nothing else but to help spread the news and let the world know what is happening.

Prayers and thoughts, Sudan. I am with you.

Little Weed

 Wangis ng isang kumpol ng damong umusbong 

mula sa mga bitak ng inapurang aspalto

Walang pakialam sa mabibigat na yabag sa palibot 

Lumalabo sa bilis ang ikot nang mundo 

Nanginginig ang bawat hibla hindi mula sa hanging amihan

Kundi sa galit na busina at maitim na hininga ng mga dumadaang sasakyan

Sa isang malayong parang

Ay ang mga kauri nitong bilad sa halik at yakap ng pangumagang araw

Liwanag na hindi maapuhap ng damong 

Tanging ang pilit na ilaw ng malungkot na poste ang siyang tanglaw

Tumubo

Lumago

Walang pumapansin

Balot ng kapangitan ng paligid na siyang nagkukubli 

Subalit kung paano tumubo ang damo

Sa walang pag-asang aspalto

Marahil ang kabuluhan 

nitong magulong mundo

ay nasa karilagan

ng mapangahas 

na pag-alpas.

Day 31, Great Britain

A month has passed.

Nothing extremely ground-breaking happened but I did learn, relearn, and unlearn some things.

Letters to Bullet Proof Boy Scouts

My most recent update in this blog was last October. I was supposed to post something right after that but I never got around to it. So I just wrote them all.

More than posting, I'm in the mood for hand-written letters and postcards these days. I even sent one to a boy group in Korea. I don't really care whether the letter was read. I just wanted to write.

I've transcribed the notes from my notebook to this blog. Today, I'm sending them out.

Premonition

First posted HERE last August 2009.
Reposted in lieu of what's happening all over the world at the moment. For Japan.

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

If Sartre is alive...

Passing by the EDSA monument as we (Carla and I) go back and forth Makati Shang brought me momentary reflection about the idea of political ideologies. On how they necessarily affect political decisions on states no matter how theoretical these paradigms may be. And it is especially accentuated by the domino effect that has hit MENA countries on its stand on democracy.

It started in Tunisia; spreading unto Egypt. And now into Libya. People are marching on streets. Lives are lost. Entire nation, basically, in chaos. All for the name of democracy and freedom.

But is it really what people perceive it to be?

It appears to me as if the entire world is heavily romanticizing the concept of democracy. If you are born in a 'democratic' country and has lived in the post-Cold War era for basically the rest of your life, chances are, you have heard of the common rhetorical cliche that is "this is a free country, I can do what I want" or something of that sort.

It never occurred to me how fallacious that statement can get until that MRT ride last February 26.

The World Now

Today, EVERYONE is demanding freedom; EVERYONE is demanding equal rights; EVERYONE wants to get the larger piece of the pie; and then we wonder why this world is in rumbles?

People should stop thinking that what they get isn't always enough because THERE IS NEVER REALLY ENOUGH OF ANYTHING IN THIS WORLD. Before we point fingers and put our blame on anyone, let us reflect whether we've at least made a difference apart from our usual wailing and everyday ranting on why everything isn't right. Our enemies will always be of our creation. Wars do not spurt sporadically; a war will be yours when you say that it is yours. We should NOT claim fighting for a better future when we, OURSELVES, do not have any idea what this future is. And unless that idea of a better future is DETAILED UP TO THE LITTLEST PART, we should stop trying to destroy the stability of the status quo.

Momentary reflection brought to you by the chaos in Egypt

Dina Virgin

Superduper-late update about the Mla-Bkk Flight =)) Naghibernate sa drafts! =))

May 7, 2009

8:00 – woke up to a steel-gray sky. Rain, rain, and more rain.

9:00 – still at my tita’s unit in Quezon City. The whole metropolis is drenching wet from the continuous downpour. Hoping against hope that flight won’t be canceled or delayed.

4:30 – it’s still raining. Hmp. I packed my bag and prepared for what-would-be a long trip going to the airport

4:42 – last minute prayer

4:50 – waiting for a jeep going to the MRT station

5:05 – Manong D(ispatcher) informed me that jeepneys going to MRT stations rarely pass by at the area around this time (especially on a weather like this)

5:18 – boarded a jeep going to Trinoma mall instead.

5:40 – got out of the jeep and half-bathe in the rain while crossing the street going to Trinoma mall. 13kg bag weighs more when wet. Brr.

5:46 – successfully dragged bag and self to the MRT station.

6:01 – happily seated inside the Ladies’ Compartment of the MRT.

6:14 – beamed over good decision of taking the MRT instead of a cab. Heavy rain caused even heavier traffic jams.

6:24 – waiting for a cab in Taft Avenue.

6:32 – desperately waiting for a cab in Taft Avenue.

6:40 – literally threw self to a cab after paying Batang D 25 pesos for his help.

6:41 – Manong driver suggests "kontrata" of 150 PhP.

6:42 – insisted on using metro while goofing around with manong driver.

6:45 – Manong driver showing early symptoms of MMTDD (Metro Manila Taxi Drivers’ Disease). MMTDD starts off with few “tsk, tsk” and then the ceremonial 3-minute complaints usually followed by a 5-minute long litany. *repeat until fade*

6:47 – saved by my Almighty Grandma! She is calling from Cotabato, and do you know what that means? Perfect opportunity to blab in Iranun/Maguindanaon.

6:52 – bade farewell to grandma and ended the conversation with “Alhamdullilah” (Thanks be to God). Last word said loudly for God (and the taxi driver) to hear. LOL.

6:53 – Manong driver suddenly decided to live according to the principles of the mute. He never uttered a single word (and kept the meter rolling) all throughout the ride.

7:04 – NAIA! Just in the nick of time.

7:05 – paid Manong  driver 75 PhP. Hah! :p

7:12 – check-in counter!

7:18 – paid travel tax. Effin’ storm still on Signal number 2. Number of flights were delayed. Thank goodness there are no canceled international flights – yet.

7:21 – BOA mode in NAIA foodcove.

7:50 – entertaining calls from relatives while waiting in line in the Immigration. =))

7:54 – standing and hoping against hope that the nosy Immigration officer won’t hear my thundering heartbeats. I was interrogated thoroughly. Why Burma? Who invited you? How old are you? You’re too young. Are you sure you’re a college graduate? Can I see your ID? Are you all alone on your trip? How many days are you going to spend there? HOW MUCH CASH DO YOU HAVE ON YOU NOW?

7:55 – playing cool while waiting for the ground to open up and swallow the officer whole. Gah!

7:57 – thank you, thank you dear kababayans leaving for Malaysia! Immigration officer realized I’m too cute to be interrogated and started preying over them.

8:01 – final x-ray and…

8:05 – voila! Departure area!

8:10 – starts text brigade on three different networks.

8:12 – text brigade disrupted. Micki is calling.

8:27 – stupid cellular phone dies. Have to charge!

8:30 – finally found an electric socket.

8:32 – continues text brigade

8:40 – 5 minutes before boarding!

8:43 – flight attendant announcing the delay of Manila-Bangkok flight. Estimated boarding time is 10PM. *annoyed*

8:50 – made use of Sun-to-Sun unlimited call to pester Enemy. HAHA!

9:16 – crappy/choppy communication. Forced to use sun-to-sun unlimited text instead.

9:50 – called the midgets. Pathetic load-less creatures.

9:55 – plane finally arrives.

9:57 – turned off phone, walked through gate while hugging self, and prepared for what would be a truly memorable journey ahead.

A prosy paragraph (LOL) conjured itself in my head as the plane lands on BKK International airport: 

The walls started whispering on the 23rd full rotation of the shortest finger.

The carpeted aisle, the food trolley, and the little egg-shaped window told me I was brave –

courageous enough to jump on this adventure.

But I think they forgot, that the thin line between naïveté and bravery often gets blurred

and eventually erased by mischievous soles, pun unintended, who continuously dare to toe the line.

My cream-colored, fishbone-patterned, dust-powdered, overweight backpack agrees that this sudden impulse is anything but valor –

but as I looked out the window and watch the night lights of the Land of the Free

sputtering like dying embers –

specks of burnt-red post-mortem tissues of a lifeless mythical fowl –

I reflected on the memories of the past 2,880 minutes…

On unresolved issues, broken text messages,

last minute farewells, goodbyes over choppy telecommunication wires,

sudden appointments with God, signal 1, 2, 3,

delayed flights, atmospheric visual effects, 30-minute turbulence

   – first airplane flight, first time outside Mindanao, first international travel...

Sure, I’m anything but brave when I turned my back on the unresolved issues –

But looking on all the other things in the list, I think it’s fair enough to consider it bravery that I faced them all alone.

1:12 - Suvarnabhumi International Airport, Bangkok.TOO MANY FIRSTS FOR THIS WEEK. Rest, rest, rest. Tomorrow is a bigger day. :D

A Letter To The World by George Carlin

I read this somewhere. And I think it's worth sharing. :D

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways , but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete...

Remember; spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.

Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember, to say, "I love you" to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.

Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

AND ALWAYS REMEMBER:

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

If you don't send this to at least 8 people....Who cares?

- George Carlin 

Amen. I'm Alive.

Note: I don't really intend to blog until this weekend, but then again, it would take a lot of will power if I would want to save what I'm feeling right now for three more days or so. I'll write this without thinking about the words. Straight to the point. No sugar-coated lies. This may be my most sincere post yet.

A while ago, while browsing through YouTube, I tried searching for videos of artists I had developed a liking to. And after an hour of watching numbers of vids, I got stuck with Nickelback's If Everyone Cared MV.

The song hit me. Hard. I didn't even realize that I'm already crying. Have you already experienced the feeling wherein you feel as if a clamp is gripping your heart? Squeezing it until you can't breath. And then, tears would instantaneously well up in your eyes. That's exactly how I can put into words what I felt. Guilt. Funny, eh? Even if I know that I haven't done something wrong. I feel like I am directly involved in what is happening with the world today.

Do you know that Kenya is currently on the verge of civil war? If the clash between Odinga and Kibaki’s controversial presidential election issue continues, there is a huge propensity that Kenya would be hosting the next massive genocide in Africa after the incident in Rwanda on 1994. Congo, by far, still holds the record for the most cases of sexual violence in the world. The prevalence of tribal wars is growing. It's a new hype. Ethiopia is infested with nothing except poverty and flies. All these have happened, are happening, and will continue to happen in Africa.

Africa. AGAIN. I know that a lot of people get irritated with the Africa issue. I can’t blame them. I felt that way before.

Before, I thought that large part of Africa is home to wild animals. I thought that the savannahs are rarely visited by people. This is what those encyclopedias and books taught me. Until today. Now, I know that Africa is not just a continent with beautiful safaris, it’s a large puzzle; divided by ethnicity, politics, government, and class.

Sometimes, I feel that I want to go back in time. Back when I was a child. Wherein, my notion of the world is perfect. Wherein I thought that the San can live and drink by digging holes on the ground. Wherein I thought that Africans really have ostriches for pets. A time when a wild lion is the greatest threat a tribesman can encounter.

Sometimes, with all the realizations and realistic concepts plaguing our mind, we forget to imagine and to believe.

I remember the time when I questioned the feasibility of the Millennium Development Goals of the United Nations. I came close to thinking that it's irrationally impossible.

And as always, I realized at the end of the day that, oftentimes, it was after all reality which coerces people to be idealistic. The nature of idealism is to promulgate and spread the seeds of optimism to everyone.

"Ambitious but possible."

Indeed. Maybe, as long as there are people who are NOT AFRAID TO CARE. As long as there are people who get inspired and do their own little share.
---

Anyway, I got this from Ate Ychel. A wish for you in 2008.

My Wish for You in 2008

May peace break into your house and may thieves
come to steal your debts. May the pockets of your jeans become a magnet of $100
bills. May love stick to your face like Vaseline and may laughter assault your
lips! May your clothes smell of success like smoking tires! May happiness slap
you across the face and may your tears be that of joy. May the problems you had
forget your home address! In simple words… May 2008 be the best year of your
life!

I wish all of us, a clean heart. A clean life. May we all be blessed. Regardless of culture, class, color, or race. May we be better in whatever we do. And may we all remember that we haven't lost that thing which we thought we have lost long ago. What do you call it, again? Ah right.


CONSCIENCE.

Reasons and International Issues

It's been a while. A looooooong, looong while. The first semester of my third year college life slipped by; and now it's "hello second sem". Three more semesters to go and it's "hello real world"! Haha!

Anyway, last October, me and my classmates (ABIS-ASST 3) went to Cagayan for the 1st MDG Mindanao Summit for Young Filipino Leaders. For the fulfillment of our frustration for our supposed-Hongkong trip, the sight of the letter from the National Youth Commission and United Nations Youth Association of the Philippines is a gift from the Gold Gardens. Thus, Cagayan De Oro City we come. At, least we DID travel. And in fairness, it IS relevant to our course. The Cagayan experience is worth it.

And no, I'm not making this as an excuse for NOT blogging. Here are some proofs. Click, click, click!

Truth be known, I've been gone for a while because I'm busy nurturing my favorite hobby. You know, inventing new things, philosophizing, creating amazing discoveries within the parameters of my mind.

Sorry guys, I wasn't able to get the last ticket from Dreamland to the world of reality so I have to purge all self-will I can muster to face this blogpad again. And boy, that WAS hard!

My only hobby is laziness, which naturally rules out all others.

Anyway, before I ran out out of active braincells again, I might as well finish this post. I made a video of my classmates when we were in Cagayan. It's a pseudo-scandal. Haha! I'm so evil! (I'll just blab about whatever that would come to my mind, so pardon the inconsistencies) :)

An ode to the third year International Studies Students of Ateneo De Davao University. Woooo! Guys! We made it! We REALLY made it! From 40+ to 13! From Chan to Billiones to Tiu! I am sooo glad we're classmates. I promise you that from now on, I'll study. SERIOUSLY. I'LL STUDY! I'll do all my best to STUDY! There's no way I'd be late for our graduation. I don't want to graduate with the second years who find TERROR in Ma'am Diaz's piece-of-cake lessons. No way! They did not undergo Chan and Billiones. And THEY DO NOT EVEN KNOW WHAT HALAL MEANS! (Halal? Ano yan? Brand name?) HAR HAR. And they had the nerve to call themselves International Studies students!? What the-- Grr.

Okay Bam, inhale, exhale. Blood pressure...

I just hate it when I talk about them. They never fail to annoy me. Ho-hum.

Proceed, proceed!

So anyway, talking about International Affairs and issues, I've watched the Miss Earth 2007 pageant last night and I noted some things.

* Indians DO speak good english.
India has succeeded in taking the number three spot for the largest English speaking country after UK and USA. The slot was formerly occupied by the Philippines, which now falls at number 4. And yes, India holds the title for the largest English speaking country in Asia. This can be the after-effect of the inculcation of education as a primary and integral concept in India nowadays. Tsk, tsk Philippines.

* Filipinos need to reaffirm themselves OVER and OVER and OVER again.
I find it funny how Filipinos (especially the media) tend to HIGHLIGHT the Filipino-ness of a person. Take for example Vanessa Hudgens. When she starred on High School Musical, you will ALWAYS, ALWAYS hear reporters blabbing on something like this "half-Filipina Hudgens bagged the most coveted role of blah blah yadda yadda". They would celebrate on the concept of an international celebrity having a DROP of Filipino blood in his/her veins. What do we know? The teeny-weeny drop of Filipino in her blood had been sucked up by a mosquito who bit her when she was young. Tsk, tsk. Exactly what happened last night during the Miss Earth pageant. When Jessica Trisko of Canada walked unto the stage, the reporter introduced her with "Half-Filipina Jessica Trisko blah blah blah" Irk. DUH! Honestly, we really don't care if she is half-Filipina or not. Because at the end of the day, she is still of Canadian citizenship, she is UNABLE of conversing in Filipino, and she WILL BE carrying the CANADIAN FLAG under her nose wherever she may go. Not that of the Philippines. I honestly think that the "reaffirming part" acted as a consuelo de bobo as Miss Philippines Earth did not make it to the Top 16.

* Filipinos ARE nationalistic.
If you don't agree with me, explain the RECURRING FAD of Miss Philippines winning nothing except the Miss Photogenic award EVERY YEAR.

* Latin American contenders do well in almost everything EXCEPT the substantial question and answer portion.
Ho-hum. As always. You always see these Latina beauties on the top 5 of every International Competition. Sadly though, it seems that their portrayal as eye candies make up most of their roles. In my OWN opinion, judging from past beauty pageants wherein Latinas make it to the Q&A portion, they do SUCK in substantive intellectual discourses. I'd rather eat Spanish sardines all my life than hear them choosing TWO options out of TWO in every pageant they join in.

During the Miss Universe 2007
Host: What is more important to you? The heart or the mind?
Contestant: *calls translator*
*contestant yapping in a foreign language*
Translator: She thinks that both should go together blah blah blah yadda yadda yadda.

During the Miss Earth 2007
Judge: *long intro* What would you choose between the economy and the environment?"
Contestant: *calls translator*
*contestant yapping in a foreign language*
Translator: She thinks that both should go together blah blah blah yadda yadda yadda.

ME: *rolls eyes* DUH. Can't she think of any better answers than that? What the hell!
Dorm mates: Bam! Easy ka lang. Inhale, exhale.

That is soooo lame. I tell you. No racial profiling intended. But once you hear a question like that for Miss Venezuela or Puerto Rico or Spain or what-have-you, expect the oh-so-lame-and-oh-so-safe answer you can hear on KIDDIE BEAUTY PAGEANTS FOR THE CEREBRALLY DISABLED.

* Moving on. I would like to tell the world how fascinated I am with Miss India.
She is SMART. AND BEAUTIFUL. AND TALENTED. And whatever you wish to look for a beauty queen if you set your definition on HOLISTIC beauty and not out of mere physicality.
Here, here. Click on this link and drool. And no, I'm not a lesbian.

Pooja Chitgopekar

Okay, okay. I think that's too much for today. Pardon my rantings. I'll be back. SOON. Hopefully. Hehe.