Kitty Litter

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~fat bakaneko >^..^<

While we’re on the subject of newspaper columns, I want to mention something too many “columnists” in local newspapers forget: responsibility to the reader. Too many of them get hired by newspapers (including the one I write for, I’m sorry to say) for their names and/or reputations rather than their writing skill, or ability to express coherent, logical thought. The newspaper column is, after all, not a blog, and self-absorption and incoherent writing has no place in it.

What got my dander up was reading this blurb in the newspaper my family subscribes to. A columnist whom I usually skip over (because she rarely says anything interesting) had this as the blurb for her column:

“With all these weapons to fight fat and cellulite, a woman of any age has no excuse to look dumpy, frumpy and frightfully fat! If all these treatments (note: she mentioned several expensive procedures and pills for appetite suppression and fat reduction) do not fit your budget, just try zipping your mouth (eat light, in plain language) and exercise a lot. These are still the best antidotes to fat and cellulite control.”

(And to think people detest Celine Lopez, who is much more sensitive and sensible than this woman!)

My temperature shot up several notches at this point, but as usual, I couldn’t help but notice the humor in that paragraph. “Antidotes” is plural, and here’s what follows it: “fat and cellulite control.” So we fat females need an antidote to cellulite control? Gee, and here I was thinking I needed to lose weight. It would appear that the poor dear is recommending, in her own (badly written) words that I exercise and eat light as an antidote to cellulite control. Hmm. Last time I checked, cellulite control was a good thing, but then again, I could be wrong.

Then, there’s the phrase “a woman of any age.” The author (whom we shall address as “Miss Columnist” from now on) is fairly young, and I presume she’s never seen an overweight middle-aged woman, so she can be excused for not understanding what gravity can do to skin. Boy, I sure hope I’m around when she becomes a victim. But I’m sure she can afford all the remedies, since her role models appear to be Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie.

I’m further sure that she’s never seen a grossly fat man. I remember a really mean comment in “Mostly True Confessions” by Jean Gonick that went something like this: “When a man is fat, somehow it looks so much more gross than a fat woman. Women are supposed to be fat; a belly on a woman is cuter than a belly on a man.” I can only assume that Miss Columnist has never seen the scores of potbellied men who are a blight on the streets of Manila? (I can only presume she lives in a posh village and has never seen the bowels of Metro Manila.)

Fat men per se are not a problem (I think they’re cute!); but fat potbellied men who go around the streets displaying their HUGE stomachs in plain view THEN go around making fun of decently dressed fat women…well, that’s just heinous. But by Miss Columnist’s logic, this is OK. The implication is that it is OK for a man to be fat, but women, in her own words, have no excuse.

When I got to the first paragraph of her column, though, I began to laugh, and feel very sorry for her. I quote:

“On a recent trip to Paris, I went to my sister’s pharmacist and asked him for a pill to curb my appetite.”

This coming from same woman who condescendingly wrote “…a woman of any age has no excuse to look dumpy, frumpy and frightfully fat!” and added that the best antidote to fat (and cellulite) was to simply “[zip your] mouth” now. Turns out she can’t follow her own advice. Sheesh.

But I must bear this in mind: incomprehensible are the ways of the rich to those of us who need to diet and exercise to lose weight…and who still have trouble losing weight. We are, after all, a bunch of idiots who can’t set aside enough money for liposuction, pills, and quick fixes. Dear me, I am so ashamed of myself for having to resort to the old-fashioned way of losing weight. I mean, what kind of moron is going to exercise regularly (not “a lot,” I’m afraid, since most of us have to work for a living) and diet YET still NOT lose weight quickly enough to avoid “frumpiness” and “frightful fatness”? Oops, that’s me. And my plump best friend. And a majority of the plump women I work with. And almost all of the plump women out there who try their best but, being human, can’t help but eat what’s available (or, God forbid, what they like) and exercise whenever they can.

But then again, since I’m just a poor woman who can’t afford to go to Paris, get Mesolipo and liposuction treatments, consult foreign weight specialists, and buy pills, creams, and lotions for weight and appetite control, I should just zip my mouth now.

Pardon me if I'm a bit teary-eyed as I write this. My first real fan mail, a response to my newspaper column last Wednesday, came today, and I quote the sender here (name and email omitted):

"Good day Ms. Fernandez! I was able to read your article yesterday and it was a relief that there are also people pala outside my "world" who understand and are facing the same situation. you know, i am connected in a private catholic school with a sister as my boss. i had been with them for almost four years but recently i decided to resign from my work when she told me im "antisocial". it was sad to hear it because i happen to be their social worker! i had been a private person, i am comfortable being alone but when i am required to talk infront of other people, i can manage naman. somehow, your article especially the "antisocial and unsociable" has widened my idea so i could defend myself from the "sociable one". Goodluck! thank you so much!"

I don't care if anyone thinks it's not well-written. This person read what I had to say, and found a little germ of truth which she could relate to in that column.

People have asked me why I write about everyday, even trivial things. I'd like to think that they are a real challenge for me: how do you keep someone's interest in something s/he takes for granted? You write as honestly as you can, and you write it well--something I learned from my thesis adviser Jing Hidalgo.

Columns or blog entries on "timely" things are as common as dirt; how am I supposed to beat, say, Neil Gaiman when he writes about the new Pope? When it comes to those topics, someone else is bound to have said what I want to say, and to have said it better.

If my correspondent above was moved enough to write to me...and thank me...for what I wrote, then I think I've done my job, and done it well. Nothing is better for a writer than to hear someone thank you for saying what they have always wanted to say, but can never find the words for. That's the job description.

This post is rated EEEWW! Not for those with delicate sensibilities.

(Sorry, No Photo Available)

I've always believed that one of the most surreptitious joys is in picking your nose, but I saw this truth graphically illustrated yesterday. The driver of this delivery van was picking his nose
while in heavy traffic, and he'd gotten to the most enjoyable part: digging in deep to get at the really big, stubborn boogers (or is it bogies?).

My mom, sister, and I were a silent, fascinated audience; he was, after all, doing something not normally accepted in polite society. Nonetheless, he was doing it, and enjoying it so much that my
sister remarked that she wouldn't be surprised if the guy rolled the bogie up and ate it.

He took one hand off the wheel in what we surmised was an attempt to help the other hand dig deeper when his van swerved and nearly sideswiped a fairly new Pajero. I can just imagine the traffic report had the accident actually occurred: "Driver A of Vehicle A (delivery van) was picking his nose when he took his hands off the wheel, the better to clean his nose with."

I now understand why some men have long pinky or thumb nails. They're digging implements. I'd imagine though that these instruments must be used with precision; one wrong move, and you'll literally be picking your brains.

Laugh if you will...because I already did. But don't tell me you've never done a "ninja kulangot" session, and enjoyed it.

Yeah, this was gross...but admit it, you envy the guy too. ;p

(In case anyone needs this disclaimer: 1) Yes, I didn't make this up 2) No, I am not self-absorbed, and no animals were harmed in writing this post. No offense is intended towards the man in this story, and this story is not meant to imply that nose-picking is illegal or immoral in any way whatsoever. 3) This is meant to be funny. If you didn't find this funny...well, what can I say?

This appears to be the default setting for the cats at my mom's house. According to the cat books I've read, this pose shows that they are secure and content with their habitat...thus, they are happy. Not to mention this pose shows off how plump they've gotten from living in a house designed and built around cats ^_^ My mom takes the time to cuddle each of them personally, and at night, it's a full house in her bedroom because three cats (Niña, Gypsy, Meow, and Annabelle) crowd into her bed, along with Catdog, er, Bambino, the mega-pinscher.

I only pray that my mom never discovers this item. It's a toilet seat for cats. Imagine getting in line to use the bathroom because Kitty got there ahead of you? What if the cat gets territorial? Hee hee.

As you can see in the previous post, several people (assuming it's not just one person) are trying to ruin my appetite for blogging by posting unpleasant comments...not about my entries, but rather, about me.

I first thought of opening a new Blogger account and texting/mailing the password to my friendly readers who are non-Blogger users. But that's playing their game. I've given in and given them what they want: me changing my blogstyle because of them. Why should I?

On the other hand, thanks to those who've been defending me. I really appreciate it; I'm only human after all.

But the key is attention. So to my feistier readers, I'm afraid I'll have to spoil your appetite for taking those idiots on. From now on, posts that are completely anonymous will simply be deleted. It's bear-baiting, really; they want a response, and I was stupid enough to give it to them. You won't find their dumb comments anymore, as I will be deleting them. The originals will be preserved, though, for your amusement.

But I do love hearing from my friends, and from those who really enjoy reading the blog. Keep posting your reactions. Just don't forget to include your name and e-mail (if I don't know you) so that I won't delete your comments.

Anyway, cute photos follow for your amusement

Here's hoping that "Samantha Starbucks," "Anne," and "Anonymous" get all the bad luck and misery meant for you guys, and may all their good luck and happiness be redirected to you for the rest of their lives. Assuming they're not just one person, that is. ;P

This is the response that you guys clearly want, and I'm giving it to you.

Samantha Starbucks, I would have really believed that you had good intentions if only you had left your e-mail address in your comment on the preceding entry. That you didn't proves that you want one-way communication; you want the freedom to say things to me without allowing me a chance to communicate with you personally. That's why I don't trust your apparently kind words; you cannot stand by them personally. Here's a free lesson: where you went wrong.

Yes, I have a responsibility to my students. But they also have a responsibility to learn, and part of that learning involves understanding what they read before they react. You forget, Samantha, that "Anne" and "Anonymous" both took jokes completely out of context and reacted to them based on their (mis)understanding of the situation, THEN made judgments about my character based on those misjudgments.

Unfortunately, you are guilty of this too, as you clearly did not read all the related posts before reacting and pointing at me as having the sole responsibility towards my students. College students are old enough to demand that they be treated like adults; therefore, they should act like them, and be intelligent enough to understand the entire situation BEFORE reacting.

I do not deny that I made fun of my students to take the stress off, yes, but then, you have no right to imply that that was irresponsible. Did you even notice that the people agreeing with me were were my students too?

You implied that only I had a responsibility towards my students. But guess what--they have a responsibility to me and the tax-paying public of the Philippines, and that is to learn. And when they goof off, act stupid, or rude, or squander the education being given to them, then I (and everyone else who pays taxes) have the right to make fun of them. They are being paid to study, after all, and when they can't do their jobs properly, then they deserve criticism from those who slave away to pay for their education.

Don't tell me you've never made fun of controversial celebrities like Britney Spears or Kris Aquino; you'd be lying.

Plus, this is a personal blog. That gives me the absolute right to write whatever I like here. There are much worse blogs out there, and people like you comment in such a rude fashion just to get attention. But enough is enough.

This will be my last post addressing you people; from now on, anonymous posts will simply be deleted. Out of sight, out of mind. I only write this post now because my friends actually do want to hear what I have to say about the whole stupid business. (And I make no apologies for the word stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. That you and "Anne" both took exception to that word is a telltale sign.) There are no absolute rules when it comes to blogging, just as there are no absolute rules when it comes to writing.

That you say I "outed" myself shows me that you are one of my students. I suspect that you may be "Anne" and/or Anonymous, hiding under a different name. I only mentioned this blog to two classes, CW 140 and CL 115. I have not advertised this blog on any of those blog-linking sites, and I certainly do not require my students to read the blog. You've been outed too. Therefore, you are one of my students.

Also, you chose not to leave an e-mail address, just a pseudonym. Anne felt strongly about defending students, just like you. A person who sincerely wanted to tell me what they think about things that affect me would be more than happy to engage in an exchange of ideas. I see no reason why a person with truly good intentions would want to hide in this situation; it's not like anything truly important is at stake here!

Your comment about me having a responsibility towards my students is ironic in light of the fact that you did not give me the chance to contact you personally. When you say things like that, you take the moral high ground too, you know. Thus you have a responsibility to encourage the give and take of communication between us. Otherwise, that's simply being sanctimonious.

Your comment about my "responsibility" (and the implied lack thereof) also leads me to suspect that you are the same student who spread the rumor last semester that I wasn't meeting my classes.

But if you're not that person, then there is another problem inherent in your response. You don't know me, so how can you make all these conclusions about me?

I won't defend myself to you, save to say that I have been, and am, a very good teacher to those students who are willing to learn, and the results are clear. Just because I make fun of my stupid students doesn't mean that I hate ALL of my students. If Dilbert makes fun of bosses, are they all stupid then? If Rex Navarrette makes fun of Pinoys in his spiels, is he putting the entire race down? Think about that before you tell me to regain the moral high ground. Did you bother to get to know me enough to tell me those things?

The answer is no.

I'm not going to say I wish you well, or that I thank you for your kind comments, or that I hope to meet you sometime. That's hypocritical. People like you think I am self-absorbed. That's fine by me, since I have always tried to be true to myself, without hiding behind masks and pseudonyms and anonymous posts.
So I'm afraid you'll have to get your kicks elsewhere.

Goodbye, and good riddance. I can't say I have better things to do than to respond to you people, because I'd like nothing better than to have a few minutes alone with you guys in a dark room (assuming that Anne, Samantha and Anonymous are different people).

But I can say that you have taught me something very important: that ignorance is the greatest sin of all, and that strengthens my resolve to keep teaching...in hopes that I can prevent my students from becoming and thinking like you. I'm not going to thank you for that lesson, though, as I learned it on my own.

(With apologies to Conrado de Quiros.)

I'm taking Ellie's advice in the previous post. Though it's fun bear-baiting such idiots, I leave the bear baiting to you guys. ^_^

The stupidity displayed by this person (I'm convinced it's just one guy) did convince me of two things. One, I'm editing my blog header to remove my name, as that's where the kid (I bet it's a student) gets my URL--by Googling for it, I suppose.

Second, his/her complete lack of intelligence, reading comprehension skills, and attacking a single quote taken completely out of context (in order to "prove" that I was so self-absorbed, I needed to "get over [myself]" proves that there truly is a conspiracy to keep Pinoys stupid. And it's working.

The education budget keeps going down. People are encouraged to disrespect and take teachers for granted. Mediocre teachers are protected by the school while the creative ones are pushed out for going against the status quo. Plus, too many Pinoy parents today aren't fit for the job. They haven't grown up yet, and can't handle their children; their idea of raising a kid well is to mollycoddle the little bastard and fight anyone who, God forbid, tells them that their children have done wrong.

I quote this from Eric's journal:

"I've dealt with unruly parents in my time, but nothing beats what happened last Monday. I only heard about it when my friend, K, came into the workroom after the incident.Apparently one mother came into the Summer Enrichment Program (SEP) office, to enroll her son, and, since she was missing her son's ID picture, sent her son out to get his photo taken. In the meantime, the student processing the enrollment forms put her form aside.When she came back with the photo, she was furious when her son's form turned out to be missing. She berated the student and then headed to the cashier. When she got to the cashier, she pushed aside a kid, whose mother started jawing with the push-er. The second mother broke off the confrontation, only to be chased by the first mother and they started fighting in the driveway.Aside from the fact that two grown-ups who should know better were duking it out in the high school driveway, what was even more embarassing was that the mother who started the alterction had a son studying at the High School, and the other didn't. I'm wondering what the non-High School mother must be thinking about the school.Maybe the woman who started it was having a really bad day. But it doesn't excuse her behavior."

And finally, there is the tendency to praise mediocrity served with chutzpah or a "showbiz" approach, and to put down real talent.

I stand by what I said in an old post:

I mean, just look at (name of cute starlet omitted). While I find her appealing and cute, I can’t help but think of the talent I’ve seen on the legitimate theater stage which deserves the mileage she’s been given. Certainly it’s fun watching her, but we also send out a dangerous message by giving her our approval—it’s okay to be talentless so long as you’re cute.

Too many people take up Creative Writing classes and think they’re good just because their high school teachers said so. They get depressed when I tell them that their work sucks. But why should I lie and tell them otherwise? I’m already nice as it is; would they like to try the Rene Villanueva school of rejection? The 1992 UP Summer Writer's Workshop fellows told me about how he once calmly tore apart a writing fellow’s manuscript—literally—then handed it back to the poor fellow, telling him to plant it in the backyard as it might spawn some kamote. Oooh, ouch.

When I tell someone their work sucks, I always tell them what to do to improve it, who to read, and so on. I don’t put people down for fun in class; my mandate is to teach, and learning does not always exist in a warm, pink, fuzzy place. Sometimes you have to learn from the proverbial school of hard knocks—even if you think that you don’t have to go through it.

I used to think that way--that praise was the only solution--and when I discovered that I was merely another idiot in the pack of idiots we were in college, I decided that I would be better. Not to “show” anyone, per se, but rather, to prove to myself that I could be better if I put my head to it. I’d like to think that writing is a continuous process of learning...(snip) and if no one tells you that you're doing it wrong or doing it badly, then HOW will you learn how to do it right?

Music to listen to: "The Kids Aren't Alright" by The Offspring, from the Americana album.

(Skip this post if you didn't see this entry. Flame on! As in!)

Hey people!

Remember "Anne"? "She" posted another comment. She has absolutely no subtlety; she again refused to sign her name and all. Anyway, here's her new comment. The style is in the same vein as the original comment, except this time, she's improved her spalling-ispeling-speyling. Like I don't know who wrote the comment? What a loser, as in.

The least she could do is post something TRULY flameworthy; "get over yourself" is so lame.

Hey "Anne," don't you have a life? Don't you have better things to do? Or does it bug you that I have friends who actually understand what I write? Come on, you pathetic loser. At least have the BALLS to tell me all that stuff in person, then prove you have a right to say that shit to me.

Hey "Anonymous," assuming you're "not" "Anne": Why don't you sign your real name? Sheesh.

The bee-atch needs a lesson in reading comprehension because she really cannot understand ANYTHING she reads! Boba talaga, I swear. She told me to get over myself for this line:

"I've lost track of the number of potential Pulitzer essays I've composed while exercise-walking around the Acad Oval or torturing myself on the transport."

What the moron didn't notice is that a) the preceding lines clearly establish that it's meant to be funny ("But I get distracted easily.And just like that, my ideas float away.") and b) Well duh. If you think I was serious, then you are really, really stupid. Hey, I'll do a Dave Barry on you, kid: Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

As usual she takes it out of context and does NOT understand the rest of the entry. "Anne," you are so stupid, you wouldn't know what humor was if it bit you on the ass. But then, given how dumb you are, I guess you'd assume it was a mosquito.

Don't you ever have days when you wish you could just do this? This is our big cat Gypsy, who lives a very good life. Can you tell? ^_^

They say that cats used to live the lives of gods in ancient Egypt. At my mom's house, they still do. All of them have been saved from either the street or from unscrupulous breeders, and we love each of them in their own way.

Gypsy was given to our housekeeper at the palengke, and she hates leaving the house. Moving out with her is a problem, as she is convinced that, every time we leave the house, we are going to throw her out. It's a sad-funny thing. Though her day is rather boring by my standards--wake up, play, eat, sleep, stare into distance contemplating the mystery of why there are no mice at my mom's house--sometimes I catch myself wishing I had her life.

I love cats, and it is hard for me to write about something so close to my heart because everything falls short of what I want to say. My mom's dog Bambino thinks he's a cat, and it's quite funny how the younger cats fuss over him.

I like it when colorful leaves fall to the ground. I don't see them as litter; rather, they are like the promise of something new. I've never seen snow, but when these small leaves fall, and there's a light wind blowing, it's almost like snow. When small whirlwinds ("ipo-ipo") pick the leaves up and swirl them around in the air, for a moment, I realize that there is still some magic left in this world. It all depends on when you choose to see it.

You knew I was gonna put something funny here. I took this photo at Columbia Computer Store in Megamall. It's supposed to be a "wrist rest," incidentally, as you don't put your whole arm on it. It's meant to minimize the risk of carpal tunnel syndrome.

Note how the bottom of the announcement says it's a supporter for the mouse. Hee hee. Mice have big balls? Hmm...

I know some people think that finding humor in such signs is not funny. They say it's colonial mentality on my part, that I'm being snotty about other people's command (or lack thereof) of English. Sure, like those people have never seen the humor in, say, Rex Navarette's humor. If you begin to stop finding humor in situations like these, then you aren't living anymore. I mean, there is a huge difference between finding humor in this sign and in cheering "Yeah! Let's party for the Pope! Hoo-hah!" in Boracay upon learning that Pope John Paul had died.

It’s a sign: this year alone, I’ve located The American Treasury of Women’s Humor, PJ O’Rourke’s All the Trouble in the World, Dave Barry’s Dave Barry Turns 40, Dave Barry in Cyberspace, and Dave Barry is Not Taking This Sitting Down* , and several other collections of humor whose titles I am too lazy to stand up and look for.

(Polar Bearball, dear, could you please return those books? Panda wants them back. Now ;p)

I take these finds as positive signs that I was born to write humor; when you have a life as pathetic as mine, it’s impossible not to. Well-done humor makes even a boring life look good; look at Dilbert, for one. Mmmm. Potato-body goodness (snorf…urm, excuse me).

See, I’ve been hunting for Dave Barry’s work for years, ever since I was subjected to one of his books and shot some liquid out of my nose after finishing the introduction (Damn you, Michael Co. You introduced me to Dune, PJ O'Rourke, and Barry. It's your fault. You owe me Coke).

But I could never find them; when they were available at Book Sale, they’d be overpriced. He was hard to find; I’ve had better luck locating Carlos Castañeda’s esoteric work and Ewan McEwan’s books. PJ O’Rourke was a tougher challenge; though he was available at National, his stuff would be misfiled—a fate my own book suffered. I once found his “Eat The Rich” in Powerbooks, filed under “Economics.” When I *did* find those books, they were overpriced.

Somehow that seems right.

I know people have little respect for humor…if you’ve seen what passes for humor in Pinoy comedies, for one, yeah, you wouldn’t respect it either. But writers like O’Rourke and Barry truly do write well, all insanity aside. Besides, Barry’s won a Pulitzer. So there. :D

So why do I like reading humor?

Giving in to despair completely prevents you from seeing the brighter side. Take for example, my experience at the gym earlier. Proud of myself for losing five pounds, I spun this little chart above the scale which purported to estimate my BMI (Body Mass Index, a.k.a. How Fatassed Am I, Really?). You align your height with your weight then peek at the small chart that comes into view. It said I was Type II obese.

Oh-kay, I thought as I spun the chart around again to check how many levels there were. I thought I would be somewhere in the range that approximated You’re Fat But It’s Sorta Kinda Okay. When I checked, there was Underweight, Healthy Range, Overweight, Obese I, and Obese II. Nothing else followed, and my elation slowly dissolved. Apparently I had to be Shaquille O’Neal in order to be Moderately Overweight…and that’s depressing.

It was a Dilbert moment come to life; in one cartoon, the Pointy-Haired Boss (PHB) is saying, “It will take a special team to make it through this year,” and Dilbert and the his colleagues begin cheering. PHB waits for the commotion to subside, and when it doesn’t (Wally is yelling, “Go Team!” by now), he drops the bomb: “Specifically, it will take a smaller team.”

A phrase I love goes like this, “In a perverse way, it’s funny.” Perverse is debatable, but sometimes, when I catch myself laughing at things, I begin to wonder.

I like studying how humor does its work, despite a warning in a book I read for my thesis: “When subjected to intense scrutiny, humor tends to unravel.” But I’m the kind of person who yanks on loose threads, so no problem.

I wish I could write like P.G. Wodehouse, and have his dry British wit. I wish I had the sense of the absurd possessed by all members of the Monty Python troupe; if I could lock myself into a room with John Cleese, I probably would pump him…for information on how he thinks of things like, “I burst my pimples at you!...And now, for something completely different.” I wish I had the arrogant skill with words that PJ O’Rourke, Adrian Cristobal, and Butch Dalisay have. (And now I’m getting worried because my models are mostly male…plus my friend Martian Solution observed last week that I really acted more like a guy, prompting Polar Bearball to joke, in private, about checking on whether I was “hiding a pair down there.”)

There are many reasons for reading and writing humor despite the many difficulties involved, but I think the most important ones are: 1) Humor makes getting difficult points across easier; and 2) It’s fun to write humor—the joy is in the endless revision and the sense of achievement you get upon hearing someone say, “You made me laugh.”

Check out the comments field in the previous entry; I have my first "random" (assuming it's not one of my disgruntled students) insulting post-er! Yeah! ^_^

And I swear I did not post it there myself to be able to write this entry, OK? (Anne, do reply to prove you're real and I didn't put it there myself, willya?)

Someone claiming to be Anne (who can't spell "you" properly, thus making her an appropriate champion for my stupid students :D ) told me I shouldn't call my students stupid, and that I should stop teaching them. Oooh, sweet! Dave Barry once said that once you begin receiving mail telling you that you're an @$$, then you've made it. Yay!

(She just HAD to pick Buffy's middle name, darn it.)

(Aside: Dave Barry has a blog! Yeah! Yeah! ^_^)

Of course she (assuming it IS a she) did not leave a real name, address, link, etc. (You guys didn't really think "she" would, now, didja? And no, that is NOT proof that I made her up. Would I be so excited if I had?)

Of course she did not read the previous posts where I show you guys how stupid some of my students can be. Typical.

I've always been fascinated with people like "Anne." If you check out the link to the Laura Krishna incident, you'll see that, among the comments the author received, are several personal attacks which display a lack of understanding of the issues at hand, and a lot of ad hominem attacks. People like "Anne" troll the Net for posts and then put in an insulting (although Anne's was pretty mild) post in hopes of getting the blogger to respond. In "Anne's" case, she completely overlooked the fact that my post referred to "my stupid students," and that the phrase could refer to either some or all of them. Will edit it in a bit so that the intent is clearer. I guess that means I owe her for pointing that out, albeit indirectly. So in gratitude, I am acknowledging her below. ^_^

(The next few paragraphs contain the acknowledgement of the "post-er" which s/he desperately wants. As s/he has a special place in my heart as the first person to insult me online--thus proving that my blog DOES get read by people other than my friends--I have given her/him the requisite attention s/he wants.)

Hey "Anne," like you've never called anyone "stupid" before? Don't take the self-righteous route. You didn't even have the courage to identify yourself and stand by what you said.

You're probably one of my stupid students, come to think of it. Based on the language register, are your initials "CS" or "SM"? I find the timing suspicious; I just sent out flunk letters to several students, then your comment appears. I've seen this happen in the blogs of my co-faculty as well; you are so unoriginal. You could at least have written a crazy letter to my department chairperson accusing me of having SomeUnnameableDisease--you know, give me more chances to benefit off you?

It's funny in a sad kind of way; can't you lash out at me in person instead? Or more creatively? Well, anyway, now you owe me because I was kind enough to acknowledge your existence. I expect you to treat me to coffee sometime. In exchange, I'll give you some advice:

Hey "Anne," in case you don't know this, why don't you get the facts straight before you judge anyone? Before you tell me to stop teaching, prove to me that you have the right to tell me that, and prove that NONE of my students are stupid. (Good luck with the latter, especially when my own students think some of their classmates are stupid. ^_^) Either you identify yourself properly and stand behind what you wrote, or you meet me in person and say those things to my face. Then maybe we can have a good laugh about this...assuming you have a sense of humor?

If you, "Anne," refuse to do either (or, an even more hilarious notion, insist on continuing to post insulting comments anonymously) I guess we all know what that means.

But since "Anne" isn't stupid (or so "she" claims), then I don't have to explain what "that means" to her. She can figure it out herself. Or so I hope. :D

(It's fun being able to respond to someone "real" like Anne--even if I suspect I know the person. I've been dying to do a humorous repartee-type column a la Dave Barry for some time now. Wish granted! ^_^)

A likeable character with a lust for life, you do what gets you by while continually pursuing your own interests.

"Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die."

Inigo is a character in The Princess Bride.

Ooh, I am so happy! Got this off Ewwic's blog. I dream of saying "You killed my brain cells; now prepare to die. I will now use this fork on you. Laser Foorrrkkk!" to (edited version) those students of mine who are stupid*, nyahaha.

*Legal Disclaimer: This does not, in any way, pertain to those students of mine whom I do not, personally, think of as being stupid...and there are many of them, who are so smart that I shall not name them here. (Hello Bianca, Tata, Patricia, Kate, and Kady!) It is not meant as a challenge to any company trademark, slogan, or logo. Characters used with permission. United Feature Syndicate (C) 2310.

(Way too many pop culture references, I know. So what? Figure them out. But if you surrender, post me a line and I'll identify them ;P Yes, the legal disclaimer is in the style of PJ O'Rourke. I love the guy! Kill me now.)

I don’t normally tear my hair out, let alone yank out great handfuls as a hobby a la Jessica Zafra. Lucky her; she says her hair has “amazing powers of regeneration.”

Early this week, though, I discovered that I was holding a small clump of hair in my fist. Bad sign. Apparently, I run my hands through my hair and pull--hard--when I am really ticked off. Only the thought of my new, P 500 haircut stopped me from tearing the rest out. Vanity, thy name is Woman and thank God for that. Otherwise, I’d be a fat Sinead O’Connor.

A few days ago I had the misfortune of talking to one of my students. Said student has no critical faculties, can’t follow simple directions, and makes me question the wisdom of the new cutoff system for UP admissions. He also makes rocks look intellectual.

(OK, to my students stalking this blog, just one request. If you respond to this post, please do NOT name the person or play guessing games. If you want the full story with gory details, text me and we’ll have coffee, OK? ^_^ KKB lang!)

I shall explain my statement. Our class is a literature course. I’ve made it clear several times that I am not interested in hearing about the writer and the reader per se because our course focuses on technique and genre definition. Unless the discussion proceeds along the lines of, say, how a certain technique elicits certain responses from the reader, I’m not interested. So statements like, “I think the author is a bad person,” is a sure way to set me off.

I know I’m being cruel now. I know that I get pretty harsh. But understand that I teach at the State University. Only the cream of the crop is supposed to get in; therefore I have every right to expect people to be smart. I have little patience for fools; I beat myself up when I am stupid (ask Polar Bearball; I blew a VTES tourney table wide open with an extremely dumbass move last Saturday, and it cost me a victory point I thought was already mine), and I work hard to correct intellectual (note: not a word about emotional; that’s tough) mistakes.

I’m beginning to ask myself why I put up with such students. But then I remember what T once said to me when we were commiserating about our students: “You have to give them a chance, if only for the sake of your karma.”

So I did.

I summoned said kid to my office to discuss his final paper. S/he scored a grand slam for the papers in my subject: 4 for all of them. Good for her/him if this were the American system; too bad in the University of the Philippines, this means, “You flunk, but I’m giving you a chance out of the maudlin goodness of my heart.”

First paper: I told the class, “Minimum typewritten three pages (How hard can that be?) No extra spaces between paragraphs. No blank pages. Observe 1” margins.

Of course the kid violated them all.

The kid then copied the bulk of his/her second paper from another source—although I suspect this was due more to stupidity than malice, which is why I simply flunked the paper instead of him. Like I couldn’t tell where the kid’s bad grammar ended and the good writing began?

Third paper: I flunk the kid thrice in the proposal stage alone. The kid was insisting on writing a paper about “the problems of writers.” I patiently explained that s/he was in no position to write about something like that. Then s/he insisted on writing about “the two sides of papers.” I had to bite down—hard—on my lip to keep from asking, “Do you mean front and back or left and right?” I was afraid s/he would answer that question, that’s why. S/he explained that “there is a good side and a bad side to any writing.” I said, “I don’t want to hear your personal reactions to the text; I want you to examine the text and explain why you react that way.” S/he insisted, “Ma’am, I mean no matter how good the writing is, there is always something bad that the reader should know about.”

Well that took the cake...and the pie. I’d already begun running my hands through my hair, and hearing this made me yank it back a bit. I explained that the selections in my course syllabus were well-written, that they were examples of excellent writing in that genre. S/he attempted to clarify his/her point (and succeeded in digging him/herself deeper in the hole) by saying that there was badness, a hint of things a reader “should not know about but has to know (WTF?)” in any piece.

I think this is where my hair got torn out. I explained that the idea of “badness” in such writing was beside the point as “bad” is subjective, and morals are not my concern in my class (nor outside it, but let's not discuss it here). I tried to inject some humor into the discussion by telling her/him of a quote that amused me, “What’s immoral is irrelevant so long as you don’t do it in the street and upset the horses.”

(Aside: Can anyone trace the source of this? I think it’s Oscar Wilde but I wouldn’t bet tatlong beinte-singko on that.)

S/he sealed her/his coffin by saying, “But ma’am how do you know that there isn’t something bad in those pieces?”

Oh, that sooo corked it. I repeated the following: “I am not interested in hearing about the writer and the reader per se because our course focuses on technique and genre definition. Unless the discussion proceeds along the lines of, say, how a certain technique elicits certain responses from the reader, I’m not interested. So statements like, “I think the author is a bad person,” is a sure way to set me off.”

The idiot had the nerve to look skeptical. Given that s/he has trouble understanding Erma Bombeck’s humor (oh for God’s sake!), that got my dander up. I admit my pride got the better of me. “I pioneered the teaching of this undergraduate course; no one else has taught it. I created the syllabus, which was approved by the CL committee—and I am a CW teacher. I…”

I realized my point was being lost on that person. Save your breath, I told myself.

And I wonder how much time and effort is being wasted on people like these in UP when we could be giving the slots to people dying to get in, who will work hard to stay in, and who will definitely “give something back to the community” once out.

So why am I still here?

There has to be hope. Even in my soot-black heart, there is that little voice telling me that the dozen or so good students I get every semester is worth the fifty or so uncaring idiots. That there will always be people like my CW 100 student Limee Nicolas—who died a month before graduation this year—who will sacrifice their health for the sake of learning, and who deserve my efforts.

She never told me she was dying. When she began being absent, she told me simply that she had "health problems" and asked how she could still pass my class. Until her health took a turn for the worse, she continued submitting work.

I just have to learn how to stop wasting my efforts in ingrates like That Kid, and focusing my energies on people like Limee. I wish I could save people like her, and Niña Colipano...two beautiful girls who died and left me wondering about why students like that have such ephemeral lives, and cockroaches like That Kid and his ilk live on.

In the meantime, I think I’m going to invest in a hat or a hair net…anything that’ll keep me from tearing my hair out the next time I have to deal with idiots like That Kid.

(And in case you’re wondering, I am giving That Kid a final grade of INCOMPLETE. Yes, I am masochistic. But I’m advising That Kid to either retake the course—as soon as I find someone else willing to teach it—or just enroll in another course. Perhaps the universe will see my sacrifice and be kinder to another suffering soul.)

While doing research online for chain e-mail, I stumbled across this amusing article. Given that all I lack for my tenure is a professorial lecture, hmmm. Heh heh.

http://www.falstad.com/cite.html

(Aside: It's ironic that the only citations I can give for my paper are from the Net. Hmmm. Does that detract from my already questionable credibility? I even have Wikipedia as a source. I am ashamed ;p)

Fellow UP dungeon dwellers ("dungeon dweller" borrowed from http://kantogirlblues.blogspot.com) seeking tenure, unite! You have nothing to lose but your credibility. ;D

(...don't post this entry. Been trying, on and off, since midnight last night to inflict this entry on the universe, and the universe, in its infinite wisdom, is telling me to bugger off by sending me error messages every time I attempt to post.

Stubborn mule that I am, I persist.)

I find myself staring at a blank screen pretty often lately, and this time, only half the reason is sheer, bloody-minded lazy-ass-ness. It's more like this: what do I write about?

I don't want to wind up going the self-absorbed route, one which I rail against regularly in my CW classes. Yet my natural "babbliness" (hmmm, maybe I should push for that to become a new adjective? Being whimsical is something I work at, and that's disturbingly ironic) gets to me whenever I'm alone and far away from a computer.

I begin drafting parts of essays, outlining them, composing opening and closing paragraphs...all of them beautiful in my mind. Like soap bubbles. (Insert distraction here: Ooh, I love blowing bubbles.)

But I get distracted easily.

And just like that, my ideas float away. I've lost track of the number of potential Pulitzer essays I've composed while exercise-walking around the Acad Oval or torturing myself on the transport.

(Useless aside: I gave up on the Stairmaster because it is impossible to think, let alone write in your mind, when on it. If I ever find out who invented the infernal thing, I will take a leaf out of Bugs Bunny's book and force-feed that person a stick of TNT. End useless aside.)

Then the editor in my mind kicks in when I sit down to write. Not that topic. Not this topic. Too personal. Too trivial. Bitin. Whatever.

I wish that, as a writer, I were like JFK in that brilliant short story by Robert Olen Butler, "JFK Secretly Attends Jackie Auction" in the book Tabloid Dreams. His mental editor--the thing in our minds that stops us from saying the truth and makes us say bullshit like "It's not you; it's me. Can we be friends instead?" or "No, I think your work is OK, really,"--is gone, and he blurts out exactly what he thinks, all the time.

For one, I wanted to rant about the putrid service at Veteran's Bank, but decided not to go there. How am I supposed to make that matter to anyone who reads this blog? Like anyone cares. Plus, there's the matter of people thinking I doth complain too much, and once I go there, I'll have to write a longer piece about why Pinoy consumers deserve bad service: they never complain or fight back. Like me.

Which brings me right back where I started. I have the writing itch, and my back scratcher is nowhere to be found.

Writing is something you cannot help doing once you've started. I've promised myself that I would continue to blog, and because I am a stubborn schmuck, I have a terminal case of verbal diarrhea, and I am a major dork, here I am writing about writing.

The biggest irony about writing in a blog, for me, is that it has to sound natural, yet not self-absorbed; witty without trying too hard; and interesting without resorting to cheap tricks like sentimentality or "cuteseyness."

And the biggest problem? Ending posts like these.

Read the full story here first!

God, I love this guy! He caught a plagiarist online and shamed and humiliated her. I don't care what other people say; ideas are ideas, and to actively solicit plagiarism AND be stupid enough to miss the baiting comments...she deserves it. Get a laugh from the whole sordid business. I'm posting the same link on my teaching blog to scare my students into honesty.

Personally, I announce the names of the plagiarists I've had the misfortune to run into over the years at the start of each class; so far, it seems to have worked. Here's my favorite idiot plagiarist story. It pales in comparison to the girl in the link above, but it's still funny in that frustrating/enraging way.

Seventeen Times Moron Equals "Huli Ka!":

GB (initials used to protect the stupid), an Artistic Theater (name of course changed) major, was stupid enough to use the prize-winning Seventeen magazine short story "Fat Girl," in my Intro to Creative Writing class. And this after I announced that I read Seventeen regularly in class! Guess she really wanted to be caught. I knew it was plagiarized (she couldn't write to save her ass) but couldn't track the piece. What to do? I asked my other students for help.

My Hum I students eagerly pitched in when I showed them the manuscript, and in a stunning example of the resourcefulness of kids when they have a good incentive (exemption from the third exam), I got my answer in 20 hours. My CSI-worthy Hum I students even bought a back issue as proof!

Trying to be fair, I announced, without naming her in class, that I knew a story had been plagiarized. I gave "the author" 24 hours to admit her misdeed; if she did, I would drop her instead of flunking her.

She refused to take the chance I offered, and stubbornly insisted she'd written it. When shown the magazine, she refused to reply and simply disappeared. So I flunked her.

Every time her name comes up on the graduation lists, I take the mike at the college deliberation sessions and repeat this story.

Plagiarists, beware. Especially the kind without remorse.

Because I am bored and unoriginal. Hah. Thought I was gonna justify myself with something witty? Well, not at 3 in the morning. Even my brain's clocked out; this is my considerable carcass typing. Really.

Kidding aside, the first reason is that I want to populate my blog with stuff that isn't several weeks old. Next, I am a cheap thrill person. Show me a street fight and I'll scurry for popcorn and a good view. Show me a cute quiz and I'll take it and forcibly attempt to display it here (despite the fact that it's IMPOSSIBLE to display anything properly given my pathetic computer skills). This is because I want others to take the tests, post it in their blogs, or text me as to what they got.

The tests also give me a break from doing research on a paper about chain e-mail. Have you got any ideas about that? Email me, text me, whatever. I'm expanding this blog entry (which got expanded into a column for the Bulletin recently) into a paper. Ironically, the only sources available (given UP's pathetic libraries) are online. Hmmm.

It did take some of the starch out of my shirt when I stumbled across a column which uses the "Buy X copies of this column..." shtick. Though my approach is kinda different, it is still a letdown when you discover that something you thought was original and funny was already (sorta kinda) done by someone else before. Boo hoo, Charlie. ;p Here's the column link; it's quite funny!

The bright side of all this is that I successfully resisted the urge to pull pranks last Friday. It has to be the first April Fool's day since I got into UP that I didn't pull some silly gag. Hope you enjoyed the chain mail though. Heh heh.

Which poem are you? The Mad Girl's Love Song by Sylvia Plath To you, love is desperate and hateful. You're wildly passionate and wildly inventive. You're also likely to start stalking people.

You scored as Verbal/Linguistic. You have highly developed auditory skills, enjoy reading and writing and telling stories, and are good at getting your point across. You learn best by saying and hearing words. People like you include poets, authors, speakers, attorneys, politicians, lecturers and teachers. Verbal/Linguistic 96% Musical/Rhythmic 89% Intrapersonal 61% Visual/Spatial 46% Interpersonal 46% Bodily/Kinesthetic 25% Logical/Mathematical 14% The Rogers Indicator of Multiple Intelligences created with QuizFarm.com

(Blame the guy below for this: http://www.cs.uu.nl/~hansb/makeenemies.html)

Hi!

My name isn't Dave Rhodes, and I am not a retired attorney, but who cares. I invented a new scheme, which guarantees to work all the time. Use it, and you will never have to work anymore during your entire life. In fact, you will have so many enemies, that nobody ever would consider you for any job of any kind for the rest of your life.

A few years ago, I had a nice job with a good income. I owned a beautiful house with a swimming pool (for birds) and hot and cold running water.

Now I went bankrupt, and was kicked out of my job.

Here is the scheme for archieving the same thing. It works all the time. You can use it too. All you need to do is to follow the following instructions very precisely:

Below you find a a list of ten email addresses. Send the numbers 1 - 5 an email, either containing an offensive message, or a core-dump file. Remove the number one of the list, move the numbers 2 - 9 one place up, and put yourself on number 10. Copy the rest of this message without changing a word. Then send the resulting message to at least 100 email addresses - send it to all your friends you want to get rid of, to your boss, to the systems admistration in your organization, and to lot's of people that you don't know but have their email adress anyhow.

A simple calculation shows what now will happen: you receive at least 1010101010000000000 email messages. This number of messages is so large, that not only it will totally ruin all performance of the systems at the organization that you work, but also it will ensure the collapse of western society as a whole: just calculate the cost of sending all these messages: it is much larger than the deficit of the U.S. Government plus the deficits of all other governments. And all you need to do for this is just to carry out these simple instructions that will not cost you more than one hour of your time! This scheme is the key to your dreams, in case they are nightmares. Be aware, that while other schemes do not work, this scheme actually will!

Here are some letters of people that already participated in this program:

Hello,I am John Nemo. I participated in this new enemy making program. It really did work for me. I was a simple programmer at Expensive and Good Software Corporation. After I did send out a mere 120 letters of your program, nothing happened for two weeks. Then a few email messages came in. After another week, so many messages came in, that I couldn't read my email anymore. On the next monday, I saw the systems administrator and my boss talking. The next day, I was fired. Later, I heard that messages kept coming in. A few months later, the company went bankrupt.

Yours, John Nemo

Dear not Dave Rhodes,I always hated it having so many friends. Thanks to your program, I lost them and am now in jail. A good hint to all other participators in this plan is to send a few copies to the FBI or the local police.

Yours,`Lonely at last'

List of names:

funnyname@somesite.com
crook@fraud.org
president@whitehouse.gov
jmdeutch@odci.gov
politie@xs4all.nl
jbond@mi6.bss.uk
bgates@microsoft.com
jtkirk@enterprise.fed
drhodes@slums.ny.usa
hansb@cs.uu.nl

Hint: to make this scheme even better, also post the message on every newsgroup and/or BBS you have access to. You'll get many enemies even quicker!

Disclaimer: the above is meant to be a joke. Don't carry out the instructions described above. Of course, you don't have to participate in the plan above to make enemies, participating in another type of chain letter will also work (but perhaps not as good?) :-)

(c) Hans Bodlaender, 1994, 1995.

I still sometimes get emails of people that think that I am serious. Actually, I am not. If you believed that the above is serious, then watch out for people that want to sell you a bridge...


(Yes, this post is backdated. Hee hee >^..^< )