The word, tarps is a latest addition to my vocabulary. Coming from a generation that bought hot pan de sal wrapped in a brown puyo puyo, tarps connotes a rather non biodegradable meaning.
But large digital printing needs this staple material and its use can pack a mean wallop in the consciousness of the electoral now that it is election year. It is also the peak season for wordsmiths, persuaders and influence peddlers. I am but one of the faceless mass who is fodder for the statistician who conducts random surveys, a face in the crowd who must be captivated by the gyrating hips of candidates dancing to the upbeat rhythm of "Nobody but you, clap clap and more clap", and wide-eyed recipient of flyers, bookmarks, sample ballots and what-have-you.
Wordsmiths with the Ilonggo-English dictionaries in tow are busy hammering the keyboard of the rented laptop in the effort to coax the most hip, the most politically-correct, and the most retained phrase to spice up the candidates' hype.
Not far behind and similarly busy are the influence peddlers whose main claim to power is conveniently placing themselves near the city official during photo ops. Talking about referent power. They too can pack a considerable clout in the barangay where they reside or been infamously associated with. With figures actual and imagined they submit these numbers to the paymaster claiming that this chunk of this and a segment of this are now supporters of the chief honcho.
Money abounds in the city and in few more months to follow. Who is talking of hard times here?
Politics and the different personalities that emerged never fail to attract me. Tarps? I actively choose to ignore them.

wo days ago, the streets of Iloilo City were agog with people from all walks of life, straining their necks to catch even a glimpse of their favorite tribal group and cultural ensembles strutting their wares and moves enroute to each of the reviewing stands where each of them exhibited the full scope of choreography all in honor of the Sto. Niño.

Several years back, the original staging of Dinagyang was done sparsely at the San Jose Church at Calasanz Street with a handful of people mostly Augustinian priests and members of the Cofradia. I should know since I was once a student of the late Father Sulpicio Enderes, OSA who was one of the priests who brought the statue of the Holy Infant from Cebu to Iloilo City way back in 1968.

The evolution of what was once a simple veneration became a mammoth event that not only the locals anticipated but a much sought event to be and enjoyed. Through the years Dinagyang developed from a simple procession of devotees to a grand parade of unfettered revelry.

It was an event that was in search of a name. Several tags were proposed but the entry of the late radio personality Pacifico Sudario won and the tag, Dinagyang sticked and is still faithful to the original meaning of the Ilonggo term, unfettered fun.

The two-day mega event started with a high mass at San Jose church. Afterwards competing cultural groups started presentation beginning at the Freedom Grandstand and culminating at the last reviewing stand located in the so-called Iloilo City Central Market. The second and final day is showcased by the interpretative dancing and chanting of besooted youngsters depicting the traditional Atis of Panay.

To some it is a hodgepodge of themes, color, costumes, and motifs borrowed from the Mardi Gras, samba parade of Brazil and Ati-atihan of Kalibo, they may be correct, they may have educated guesses. Whichever it is, it doesn't detract from the color, measured elegance and artistic restraint of the Dinagyang.

Of course heaven nor salvation cannot be bought but most likely, a shortcut exists and the trek to everlasting life and bliss is promised by these Pinoy televangelists using the ubiquitous electronic mediums of television, radio and, your guess is a good as mine, the web.

Lest this piece be misconstrued by zealots belonging to any of the business ventures I will mention later, I'm not criticizing any pastor, kapatid, ingkong, appointed son, nor kurikong. I am unfit even to pass judgment on the veracity of their claims that they converse with God through a direct line either pre- or post-paid much less laugh derisively at the curse given by the appointed son of god, PACQ (we, Ilonggos tend to read this aloud as "PACK YOU") on Bro. Eli to the generous effect that the latter has only six months to live this "dutang luhaan".

Instead, I wish to solicit the opinions of upright thinking persons on how they perceive the organizational savvy and managerial competencies of the likes of Apollo Quiboloy, self-styled appointed son of god and presumably head honcho of the Kingdom Nation based in Davao, Eraño Manalo of the Iglesia ni Manalo eheste, Kristo, Eddie Villanueva, erstwhile presidential bet but continuing head of JIL, Eli Soriano, unique source of biblical interpretation of the Ang Dating Daan with the kilometric name registered with the SEC and the head of the El Shaddai whose name escapes me.

Should you have the luxury of time and inclined to share your opinion, you may find these query points useful:

1. If they are registered with the Securities and Exchange Commission, can they be engaged in exchange of goods and services, consultancy, or trading of securities and assets?

2. What are their strategies and tactics to support their phenomenal growth from buying block time several hours removed from prime time to cornering prime time slots to owning several television and radio stations nationwide?

3. Lastly, if ever their managerial and organizational skills are catalogued and intelligently translated to do-able skills, can these be taught or transferred to Filipino students in the secondary or tertiary level?

Failure is something that most of us if not all dread. Nobody loves a loser… remember the oft-repeated quote, ‘Laugh and the whole world laughs with you. Cry and you cry alone.’ The question that begs for answers is how can we avoid failure? Admittedly, there is no fast and quick answer here. For starters we look for answers inside of us. Why not use intelligence to minimize failures? Again you might counter, ‘What happens if you’re not intelligent enough to even recognize that you’re heading for Failureville?’

Nobody is miserable enough not to have a modicum of common sense about him or her. We all can sense negativism even as we all understand good deeds, intentions, the works. Why not try to be in control of yourself? Even in self control we take risks - the risk of losing control. But without risks can we be totally free?

Students who are college bound may be especially interested in the author Robert Sternberg, who in his book Intelligence Applied: Understanding and Increasing Your Intellectual Skills, lists a number of reasons that students fail to realize their full potential. As you read those reasons, identify the ones you see in yourself. Also, think about how many of the items on Sternberg’s list could be the result of not taking control, not asking for help, or just giving up.

Obstacles to Full Realization of Intelligence

1. Lack of motivation.
2. Inability to control impulses.
3. Difficulty in completing problems and following through.
4. Failure to begin tasks.
5. Fear of failure.
6. Procrastination.
7. Excessive self-pity.
8. Excessive dependence.
9. Blaming others for your difficulties.
10. Wallowing in personal difficulties.

The best things in life are free and here's a list of those gifts that I have tried giving but apparently I was not at all successful.

1. THE GIFT OF LISTENING...
I was REALLY listening but the guy who did the talking was an expert in monologue.
2. THE GIFT OF AFFECTION...
This is one gift that I must think twice in giving hugs, kisses, pat on the back and holds to my officemates least they'll be screaming, "sexual harassment!"
3. THE GIFT OF A WRITTEN NOTE...
I hesitate to give this twice over, the first time I scribbled a note to the officemate, she returned the note saying, "If you're here to ruin my eyesight with those ugly scrawl, don't even think about it!"
4. THE GIFT OF A COMPLIMENT...
The last time I uttered a simple and sincere greeting, I was hit right smack on my head. All I said was, "Today is your birthday, much as I like to give you a present, I'd rather give you a past."
5. THE GIFT OF A FAVOR...
I did this too but every time I go out of my way to do something kind, I forgot the way back in.
6. THE GIFT OF SOLITUDE...
This is where I excel the most, now everybody refers to me as that dysfunctional introverted guy who is a legend in his own mind!
7. THE GIFT OF A CHEERFUL DISPOSITION...
The last time I got bawled all over was slapping everybody's back during internment.
8. THE GIFT OF LAUGHTER...
At times the ravages of old age show themselves all at the ill-opportune time. I vow never to laugh boisterously with my loose dentures on. How can I help it? The guy's a killer at the punch line!

People who like to call themselves techies, go-to-guy, and the pejorative nerd are generally technology-savvy and conversant in their own field. This is only to be expected since it goes with the territory especially if you're a BS Info Tech, BS Computer Science or BS Computer Engineering graduate. It is however rare to find an employee who mastered both technical and people skills to climb higher the organizational ladder. Indeed everyone likes promotions, what with the added compensation, perks, and bragging rights. Let's forget momentarily the additional work and stress accompanying such career movement. Here's the whammy: Are you up to it? Do you have what it takes to work yourself up the rungs of the bureaucracy be it public or private? I bet you aren't since this topic was not even printed in the curriculum pages of your alma mater (only here at myiloilo.com).

I, too was stuck long enough in a junior executive position that the last time I check with the mirror, there were streaks of silver growing in my sideburns! And I wasn't going anywhere up the ladder. Seeing to it that the boss has just finished lunch and about to take his nap, I knocked and was admitted to his office. Here's a transcript of what transpired.

I: Sir, I'll be candid and di na magpaligoyligoy pa. Lucky you, this is the 2nd time you were promoted and about to leave for Metro Manila for your new assignment. Me, I'm stuck here for five years now. Can you please tell me your secrets?

Him: Ok I'll also be candid. There are three secrets I'll share with you. Secrets so simple enough you can apply immediately. First, I always keep things simple, I say my truth plain and short. Nobody likes to listen to longwinded lightning and thunder speeches signifying nothing. Simplify.

Second, always do more than what is expected. Any supervisor will appreciate that extra thing. Big bosses are mostly lonely guys. If you're alone in the executive office, it can be creepy at times. So as a lieutenant, every time I say my goodbyes to him, he always let me stay another extra day, to keep him company, to offer a shoulder where he can confidently shed off his frustrations and fears. Now this is working extra, since keeping him company is not in my job description form but no, I stayed with him.

Third and last, keep Sunday for the family. They too long for my companionship and care.

I, the tactless I: Sir, excuse me. Which family are you referring to?

End of interview and goodbye promotion.

Isang tao ang humarap kay San Pedro sa pintuan ng langit.

"Meron ka bang nagawang mabuti at kaaya-aya?" Tanong ni San Pedro.

"Meron pong isa," ang bulalat ng tao.

"Nung pumunta po ako sa Sangang Daan, Tondo, me nakita po akong mga barakong bikers na gumugulo sa isang dalaga."

Sinita ko po sila na pababayaan na ang dalaga, ngunit hindi sila nakinig.

Nilapitan ko po yung pinakamalaki at pinakatadtad ng tattoo at sinuntok sa batok, sinipa ang kanyang motorsiklo, nilabnot ko ang kanyang hikaw sa ilong at inihagis sa lupa. Sinabihang ko pang, "Hayaan nyo siya o magsanib ang balat sa tinalupan dito."

Bilib na bilib ang San Pedro. "Kailan ito nangyari?"

"Mga ilang saglit lang po."

Nostalgia, maudlin reminiscence at the pain of lost childhood made all the more haunting by the broken guitar chords from Segovia. These are moments after a long night of torrential rain and when the sun starts to dissipate the lingering shades of night. Vignettes of boyhood misadventures and the echoes of growing up blues suddenly make one smile albeit wanly. Oh what will I give up in exchange for a return to the summer of my childhood.

Those bygone days were moments in learning, a great deal of it spent basking in all the magazines, newspapers, and books in the decrepit structure we call reading center till I was teary eyed and with a grumbling tummy. The thrilling part of it all was the wiggling through the narrow gap between the roof and the wall which only a wisp of an 11-year old boy can do.

Certainly thinking about things past have its dark side too. I can't help cursing at the sheer foolishness surrounding the demise of a childhood friend who made the railroad track his pillow for the night waiting for the bagon loaded with sugarcane bound for the sugar central. And then there was the thrill of puppy love when the seeming acme of devotion consisted of gazing at the roof of her house.

One can't go home again. After spending more years away from home rather than investing years in it can suspend an objective view of a homecoming. The acknowledging look of familiar faces replaced by feigned interest of current residents perhaps belonging to the second or third filial. I ought not be sad at this turn of events. I must admit that it is not only I who changed... my barrio folks too had the right to change. And they did.

Here I am trying to put some sense on the frantic and frequently nocturnal goings-on of "bully boys" of political leaders. See I couldn't even make sense of the lead sentence! Whenever I see political streamers, posters and other ads of politicians trying to outdo each other for retention in the consciousness of the voters, it is the Ilonggo gusto for "palusot" that often amazes me. If you look carefully now, political ads now printed on unbiologically friendly plastic sheet are plastered on walls, fences, electric and lamp posts especially during the wee hours of the morning (ah the feeling of using that trite expression again!). And I thought there is an ongoing Comelec ban covering this practice.

Come to think of it, who can stomach the political ads when lumped in a public place? Trying to rationalize, I found myself recalling the acronym, A-I-D-A. AIDA is an old-school formula for marketing intentions. The first letter, A stands for awareness. Candidates who must forcibly thrust themselves into the consciousness of voters and pray for a long-term recall ought to package themselves so as to arrest attention. Thus the use of primary colors preferably red and yellow is prevalent. Interest or rather instilling and sustaining interest among the voters on themselves and their cutesy come-ons comes next. Here we are regaled with cue words such as "Itanim," "utol," and "anga" in the effort to lasso in our affection through the use of homespun terms of endearment. I hesitate to use the term, desire because of its rather romantic allusions but what can I do, it's the fourth letter in the acronym.Stoking the flame of desire seemed to be one of the objectives of political rallies. Rallies seemed to retrogress from once flowing rhetorics to fiery speeches to a new low - a song and dance number from the senatoriables! How low can you go? And this is not the line from Chubby Checker's "Limbo Rock." Finally and perhaps the challenging step of all is arousing action from the voters. Much as I like to rant more on this, time and space won't allow me. Till next blog.

Baby boomers - Ilonggos born between 1945-1949. Today they are either venerable captains of industry or many have been relegated to seeing the twilight of their lives in nursing homes listening to dzRJ(?), heaven forbid!

Local politics - The colorful arena and staging ground of past political personalities who, by sheer force of their persona (and wealth)launched their political careers riding on the voting power of the economic class c and d with the monicker, "Timawa".

Wish list: 1) Baby boomers with a progressive set of agenda for Iloilo City culled from lessons learned when they were fighting it out in the various battlefields: corporate, academe, foreign deployments, scientific laboratories, military arsenal and what-have-you;
2) A partylist composed of baby boomers who can rally the silent majority from self-imposed stupor and have a go at it again (and again!).
3) Baby boomers who can emulate the grit and colorful language of a Roding Ganzon, the quiet dignity of a Paeng Lopez-Vito, the business savvy of a Fermin Caram and other leaders who can transform Iloilo City into what it ought to be today and not just the "next big thing."

Until then, I'll just dream on.