“People in the judiciary can make a very good case look very bad. If the judiciary is bias, if the judiciary has made its mind in one direction, not even Jesus Christ who is appointed as the Attorney General can change things…We will clean it if they don’t take steps to clean it. We will clean it and let everybody everywhere blame us for interfering in the judiciary and we will take them on,” Dr Kwabena Adjei stated.

Asked how the cleaning would be done, he responded “that one at the right time, you will see how we’ll clean it. There are many ways to kill a cat,” he added.

the rest is here: http://www.ghanaweb.com/GhanaHomePage/NewsArchive/artikel.php?ID=190477

Let me see, there is rebellion in the angry rumblings of its tired engine and loose screws. There is arrogance in its principle. There is intimidation in its extent. There is presence. There is even depth beyond it. But all that doesn’t conquer that fleeting moment of insecurity and rawness.

I am trying to write right now—not of anything precise and practical but of a silent mimic of this animated astonishing memory between a bend and a dive. I am writing about its rhythm, faces, eyes, and sun-kissed windows, about the tingling whisper of winds from wear and tear of times,  and then, of the reflections and of selves.

I am writing about this moment. I am trying to write it down, all of it, as if painting a moving picture of a crashing wave. There is anxiety but there are expectations of moving on and moving forward. And despite revolt, I believe there is conformity of a certain order in the randomness— that mornings and Mondays should finally begin, after bacons have burned and traffic has jammed.

There is probability here, not from narrations or relationships, but from chances that matter less.

Here is briefness where seconds tear into a thousand earsplitting trances that flash fragments of emotions and memories of breakfast tables, of an angry boss, of bills to pay, or of a very very near future.

And yet here is a moment of the now, that doesn’t have to matter or to be right because it is not even tangible. There are just but words to describe and feelings to evoke. There is time to take advantage of and to relate that in fact, it is real and it happens.

I write fast, so fast, because I know this won’t last for long. I have to relay and capture what I have to say not because I have to be true.  I am but writing of a perfect symphony of the things that anger and the other wonderful things that seem so hard to believe in. Let this be bridges between circumstances that matter less and those that matter actually.

There is a ball game. You are your favorite team player. You snatched the ball from the defense, dribbled it in perfect rhythm towards the goal, and prepared yourself for the kill. The gym was ecstatic, your legs were tired, your arms tensed, the ball was heavy, every drop of perspiration tickled your eyes like tears, and then, the crowd, the crowd roared your name in unison. You prepared for the kill. You leaped high in the air, you know you will win. You thought about college scholarship. You thought about the beaming faces of your proud parents. You thought about the endless afternoons of scorching sun and practices. You smiled. You never knew you did. But for that split second you were one with everything.  And then you did it, you went for the kill.

Here is a brief moment that happens every day, every time, differently to different selves. And just like a bullet, it happens and ends before we can ever realize how it changes us–how it changed them and the people before them and the people before.

I am writing very fast right now. And I’m going to try to make it appear before you the way it really doesn’t have to be.

Welcome.

Let me tell you a story about a girl who probably knows me. Today is her thirteenth year as writer and her twenty-something year as an aspiration. As it is never known, she prays to God that her passions may never die as far as her youth can become. You see, for her, the world is countless confetti of colorful possibilities that comes from the certainty that life must be celebrated. She never danced under the stars or under the sun, even before the stars came, that is. But she knows for certain that living 60 feet under them must be something special. Perhaps the stars are her “countless confetti of colorful possibilities”, I just don’t know.

Let me tell you how she carefully picks up her books, and know that they have travelled places, farther than they had ever told her. She turns every page the way she twirls her hair. She reads every word like it was her own. And then she listens to it like it was still the first time, like Juliet hearing the lines of Romeo as if it was their first show.

Let me tell you why it is so funny, so funny to know that she listens with her heart… when all these times, all these moments, she has been wearing them under her sleeves. What does it mean to wear your heart under your sleeves? Is it in knowing? Or is it in having somebody sew a heart locket underneath your green sweater? She says saints wear beautiful scars, though in some places of her heart she recognizes that a lot of anger still tend to get even knowing that they can, and indifferences are too busy bombing buildings knowing that they are empty.

Let me tell you what rainbows are made of, and how she can tell you more than that. How in her little world flowers bloom to cypress. Even if trees get rejected when they talk, and little birds get shot whenever they make assumptions about Cinderella’s gown to the ball, the weeds can dance if they ever should. Fallen apples, poisonous apples, eaten apples, she takes them, and she dies every time, she dies every time she tries not to judge the character because she knows she has to get the taste of every part of that story that will make her princess and unmake her witch.

Let me tell you how she closes her eyes while she sips her tea, in unhurried amounts, like her own time. The pace that never asks for assurance from tomorrow, but the courage of taking whatever she can from the now.  She knows she can’t be mightier than her pencils and their erasers. She knows she can only be as immortal as this great humanity she can ponder about. Nothing less, maybe something a little more.

Let me tell you how she thinks. The box is set out on the table. And she thinks around it. Like a stranger with a strange subject. Like a stranger with a strange subject of warmth I say. It doesn’t happen over night, not even two nights or three. The box stays there. The fondness stays the same. And the stranger, well, the stranger becomes a friend in her own ways.

Let me tell you about her laugh. She laughs so hard it even hurts to think about love. But she writes about aspirations…about beautiful things, unhappy things, lies, mischief, loners, eccentrics, haters, sunsets, dawns and so on.

But I want to tell you about her laugh. She laughs so hard it even hurts to think about love.

So let me tell you that this is not a love story. It’s just about the “countless confetti of colorful possibilities” who probably still knows me.

Photo courtesy of philthyus blog.

Getting the drift? Neither me sister.

Tell you what,

I just had my hair shampooed in a salon when somebody said- “Mandy Moore.”

I was racking my brain for a desperate gay lingo that I heard somewhere to interpret the remark.

Haha. And funny as it may seem, I suddenly drew the connection (at least I think).

Mandy Moore-A Walk to Remember-Cancer-Super Lagas Hair.

And really, I’m super falling hair since the first re-bond treatment I got years years back.

So for the sake of it, I was inspired to pile up a couple of super taray words for the sake of us, Muggle people, in the outside world.

Roll it:

Anik / Anetch — ano (what) / which
Balaj — balahura (shameless)
Bitter Ocampo — malungkot (sad) / nagngingitngit (fuming mad) / bitter
Baklah / Baklush — used instead of one’s name, may refer to any gender
Givency / Janno Gibbs / Debbie Gibson — bigay (to give)
That’s Entertainment / Anda / Andalucia / Anju / Anjo Yllaña — datung (money)
Fatale — sobra (excessive) / to the max
Feel / Fillet o’ Fish — type / gusto / natipuhan (like)
Fly — alis (leave)
Forever — palagi (always) / matagal / mabagal (slow)
Pagoda Cold Wave Lotion — pagod (tired)
Washington / Wishing / Wish — wala (nothing or none)
Chanda Romero — tiyan (tummy)
Mahalia Jackson — mahal (expensive)
Kuya Germs — madumi (dirty) / bearer of germs
Lucresia Kasilag — lukaret / baliw (crazy)
Lucita Soriano — loser na sorry pa
Luz Valdez — matalo (to lose)
Winnie Santos — manalo (to win)
Award — pinagalitan / pinagsabihan (reprimanded)
Freestyle — slow makagets (to understand) / slow
Imbey / Im — imbyerna (irritation)
Jowa / Jowabelles / Jowabella — karelasyon / BF or GF
Kape / Capuccino / Coffeemate — magising ka sa katotohanan (be realistic)
Lupita Kashiwahara — malupit (cruel)
Rita Gomez — nakaka-irita (irritating personality)
Enter the Dragon / Entourage — pasok (to enter) / come in
Julie Andrew / Jolina Magdangal — mahuli (caught in the act)
Antibiotic — antipatika (bitch)
48 Years / 50 Golden Years / 10,000 — matagal (after a long time)
Crayola — iyak (to cry)
Thundercats / Chandeliers / Masyonda — matanda (old people)
Wrangler — gurang (also means old)
Jubis / Juba — taba (fatso)
Jutay / Jutes — maliit (small)
Kangkang — sex
Reyna Elena — ulan (to rain)
X-Men — dating lalaki (formerly a man) now gay
Morayta / Murriah Carrey — mura (cheap)
Pamintang Durog / Pamenthols — closet gays / acting as men
Backstreet Boys — cute boys at the back
Chiminey Cricket — chimay (maid)
Goodbye Suklay — goodbye
Fayatollah Kumenis — payat (skinny)
Anaconda — ahas (a snake) / traitor
Anong petsa na? — asked when someone is taking too long to dress up, etc.
Charing/Tienes — jest / a joke / not serious
Kaplang — mali (error) / mistake
Barbra Streisand / Barbara Perez — bara / binara (bluntly rejected)
Regal Drama Hour / Maalala Mo Kaya — when someone tells a sob story
_______, ikaw ba yan? — when someone acts like another
person, maybe a showbiz personality or not. (example: Vilma Santos, Ikaw Ba yan?)
Purita Kalaw — walang pera (broke) / mahirap (poor)
Rica Peralejo — mayaman (rich, from the Spanish word rica)
Chova / Chovaline Kyle — chika lang (small talk)
Cookie Chua / Cookie Monster — magluto (to cook)
Clasmarurut / Klasmarurut — classmate
Cynthia Luster — hindi kilalang babae o lalake (unknown she or he)
Daot — insulto (insult)
Eksena / Eksenadora — mahilig pumapel / mahilig sumabat (someone who always likes to figure in a scene)
Emote — mag-inarte pa rin (one who is over-acting)
Karir/Career — sineryoso ang isang bagay like BF or work (to be seriously involved)
Lafang — kain (eat)
Lapel — malakas ang boses (someone with a loud voice)
Carry / Keri / Cash & Carry — sige (OK or alright)
Cathy Dennis — “makati” (frisky) or promiscuous
Char / Charot / Charing / Charbroiled — not ok
Liberty / Statue of Liberty — libre (free)
Okray — paninirang puri (criticize)
Lucky Home Partner — live-in partner
In Fairness — pampalubag loob (to console)
Compared to Lugaw — kesa wala (better than nothing)

Coffeemate, Jolina Magdangal na ako, Jolina Magdangal ka na rin. Pero in fairness, statue of liberty naman ito compared lugaw. Purita Kalaw man tayo sa pera, Rica Peralejo naman tayo sa swardspeak. Kaya wag silang Barbara Streisand. Antibiotic! Goodbye Suklay.

They call it swardspeak. Swardspeak sister.;)

]]> http://silya.wordpress.com/2009/11/18/jolina-magdangal-ka/feed/ 3 joey http://silya.wordpress.com/2009/11/18/so-everybodys-a-princess-now/ http://silya.wordpress.com/2009/11/18/so-everybodys-a-princess-now/#comments Wed, 18 Nov 2009 04:02:32 +0000 Joana http://silya.wordpress.com/?p=913 ]]> Well, who wouldn’t be?

Jennifer Behr ‘s sense, I’d say, is beyond any 3d Disney movie. It’s like plucking Cinderella straight out of Dreamville and taking her place instead.

So move over preppy heads, because even the Blair Waldorf  “It” head pieces just decided to take a back seat.

Even the classic bohemian princesses just can’t resist the elegance.

We can call them Diyosa in the Philippines.

Or plainly just KC Concepcion.

It’s always a shinning, shimmering, splendid fashion day right here, so flaunt it princess.

some memories,

even write a letter.

but i could still laugh when my boss pairs me up with the church guy,

relay endorsements,

prepare OR replacements,

refill dextroses and ampule boxes,

list out patient discharges,

and charge medicines,

and read out prescriptions.

but still i’m going to be feeling so sad about sunday.

i can’t even wear my dress.

E intenté mi mejor para vivir. Las ocasiones parecían de donante.

Fui a cada masa en mis vestidos de domingo, pregunté cuándo no sé, yo empujé para la excelencia en cada presentación, y nunca dormí sobre el trabajo deshecho. Dije que mis rezos y yo tenía demasiado cuidado de no pedir demasiado.

Pero el sino parece dejarme responsable para las circunstancias algo de forma aplastante que están fuera de mis esferas.

Me recordé tan. Trabajé difícilmente. Tan difícilmente vivir por las leyes de la naturaleza y de la ciencia. Pero la orden natural de la acción y de la reacción trabaja en absoluto en los términos que entiendo.

Duele para realizar que diario consigue siempre más difícilmente que dura.

Es más doloroso que las maneras que ha trabajado siempre para otros no parece trabajar en absoluto para mí.

Consigo el funcionamiento cansado no porque necesité algo pero porque estoy demasiado ocupado olvidando que estoy sobreviviendo. Me recuerdan siempre que dios me dio todo— una vida casi perfecta de la seguridad y del exceso en casi todo que necesité y quise nunca. Y tengo incluso miedo ahora de preguntar si él quita también. Porque si hago, quizá I’ comienzo del ll que lo cree. A la derecha aquí, no puedo permitirme guardar en soltar.

Estoy pesando las probabilidades de permanecer puesta realidad y de dejar las fantasías mis los propios. Pero no hago quiere soltar la pasión para ser. Si paso solamente esta manera una vez, déjeme sonreír, canta, actúa, dibuja, escribe, y lo crea de la manera que puedo. Déjeme incluso mientras que grita.

Y finalmente, déjeme tomar cuadros del él solamente las cosas que tengo conmigo.

Déjeme perdonar y amar.

Apenas me prepongo ser feliz. Apenas feliz. No incluso más feliz.

Karissa: Mommy, ano english as kotse?

Tita Elaine and Kate: Car!

Karissa: Eh ano english sa tsinelas?

Tita Elaine and Kate: Slippers!

Karissa: Eh sa Crocs?

Tita Elaine: *******

Kate: Ano Mommy?

I am, again, working in my favorite shift where breakfasts usually start at midnight and random bloody tetanus toxoid cases follow after.

But it’s not about that.

At around 5 pm, when I was already supposed to be eating a “bruncher”,  Guess what? I dreamt of Kuya Leo.

Laugh your heart out Kuya Leo, but yes we were so in a fashion show—in the catwalk, posing for some spring collection of Banana Republic or the like. (You were wearing one of those V-cut tweed Harvard sweaters.)

And so as we were  going up the stage, you kept mumbling to me– “Ayusin mo Joey, Ayusin mo…”  haha.  And I was like? “Panu?”

Hay. Last night, I received unexpected phone calls from the dearest–est people in my life while I was on my way to the hospital.

Thank you guys.

How many times did we talk about boho hairs and LV and Vera Wang again?