November Notes

I can’t help but be seriously alarmed at the worsening situation Filipino journalists find themselves in nowadays. The chilling death threat that newspaper columnist Ellen Tordesillas received via e-mail two weekends ago and the attempted arrest of journalist Mia Gonzalez around the same time are just two recent examples. I find Gonzalez’s case particularly noteworthy because, in the literary community, she’s better known as prize-winning fictionist Ma. Romina Gonzalez. Read about it here.

It’s a great time for Filipino sports these days. There's Ronnie Alcano’s win at the recent World Pool Championships. And of course, Pacquiao’s repeat victory against Erik Morales yesterday. I’m not a sports fan, but it’s hard not to be blasé and feel good about their wins. Good for them.

Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Filipino reality-show contestants. Two Fridays ago, Brad of the Raro tribe was voted off from Survivor: Cook Islands. Last Wednesday, Filipino married couple Ernie and Jeena were the first to be eliminated from The Amazing Race Asia, thanks to a disastrous decision to go for the Fast Forward (Lesson: don’t use the Fast Forward if you’re one of the leading teams). It's really a shame: they have so many things going for them, especially compared to the other Filipino team, Aubrey and Jacqueline. And last Friday, courtesy of a shocking twist, Jenny of the Raro tribe joined fellow tribe member Rebecca, an African-American, as the latest ones booted off from Survivor. What’s interesting about Jenny’s elimination is that the four people who voted her off are white. Now Nate is the only non-white member of the Raro tribe.

Belated Birthday Bulletin

Being born on All Souls Day, thinking of death as well as life has become second nature to me whenever my birthday comes around. This year was no different. As is my habit I spent my birthday by going on a solitary excursion, this time to some towns in central Laguna. I had a nice time exploring these towns, never forgetting to check out their old colonial churches, which I am strongly interested in, despite the fact I’m not a religious man at all.

I often use these excursions to reflect on my life, on what I have accomplished so far and what I have yet to achieve. During such a reflection, much as I’m grateful that another year has been added to my life, at the back of my mind I can’t help but think that I’m another year closer to my death, whenever that may be. Don’t misunderstand: I’m not being morbid here, just writing this matter-of-factly. I’m not really afraid of death, per se, but I sometimes dread of how will I die. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in this sentiment.

Like the birthdays I had spent in the past, last Thursday was a day when I had let a part of myself “die” and be replaced by hopefully something better, something new. As far as I’m concerned, my birthday offered me something like a compressed Holy Weekend: a certain kind of death, a different type of resurrection. As for that part of myself I’m referring to, it’s much too private for me to share in this space, but what I can say about it is that I hope I become a better person, a truer person as a result. I guess only time will tell.

All in all, I spent my birthday the way I wanted: quietly, by myself—much of it, anyway.