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To break bad means to turn to immorality or crime. Walter White in "Breaking Bad" turned to the illegal drug trade -- transitioning from chemistry teacher to meth cook and eventually drug lord -- out of necessity. He thought he was dying, and was worried for his family's future. Walter broke bad. These contractors, politicians, and corrupt DSWD heads are just, well, naturally evil.  

This knee-jerk clamor for bringing back the death penalty to punish plunderers and corrupt government officials is putting the cart before the horse. FIRST, let's make sure that the guilty ones go to jail and not get away scot-free, especially the ones who can buy their freedom using not just money but also power and privilege -- the Eraps, the Jinggoys, the Arroyos, the Bong Revillas, the Imeldas. ONLY THEN can we think about bringing back capital punishment. (Better yet, make an example of that jet-setting daughter of the dirty old man in the Hague, who spent her confidential funds faster than the Discayas could amass a fleet of luxury cars.) Otherwise, the only ones hanging from that noose are, again, the poor and the powerless -- regardless of whether they are guilty or not.

The recent news of Royina Garma's decision to testify against Rodrigo Duterte at the ICC has been labeled an unnecessary distraction from the current Senate hearing on the substandard flood-control projects and the massive corruption behind them.  A distraction? Not really. You can call something a distraction if the newer issue isn't of equal weight. "Distraction" here only depends whether you're a DDS or a Marcos loyalist. Not both, because, as well all know, Unity doesn't exist anymore. But that's another story. Or issue. Or "distraction." For instance, when this DPWH-Discayas-congressmen thing exploded, people were quick to say that it was a distraction from the missing sabungeros case.  And can someone refresh my memory please: what distracted us again from that Alice Guo issue?  What's sadder to me is that all these "distractions" seem to come out of the blue, rapid-fire -- one after the other, leaving us with no breathing roo...

Last night I called an Uber from my mother-in-law's house (my wife was staying the night with her) to take me home to our apartment, and I noticed that the car was driving away from me. The driver was already in the immediate vicinity, about two minutes away, but I noticed right away that he was driving in the opposite direction. (And no, he wasn't finishing a previous trip.) I'm not new to the ride-hailing game, fuck no. And heck, I'm from the Philippines. A lot of Grab drivers use this tactic too, in the hopes that the passenger will cancel to avoid a penalty. The problem is, I can be petty as fuck. There was no way in hell I would cancel the ride before that scumbag of a driver did, and so I was already preparing to spend the night sleeping on the couch at my mother-in-law's living room -- to, at first, my wife's amusement and then, later on, to her chagrin (she was pissed, all right: more at me than at the Uber driver. And I couldn't blame her. Lol). And...

  When I decided to transition from writing to teaching, I had to earn a couple of certifications. Before that, I volunteered to teach online English students in the Ukraine and Gaza, for experience. Even now, while carrying a full teaching load, I'm still studying for two more certifications, which I'll hopefully get in the next couple of months. After that, I'll be looking into a master's degree in education (to make me feel better after that master's program I abandoned in the Philippines? Probably. Who knows?) My point is, we SHOULD take our jobs seriously (especially something as critical as, well, I don't know--Senator??). God knows I have -- after 20+ years as a professional. And that's the operative word here, isn't it? PROFESSIONAL. Please, please, please, let's vote for qualified and competent candidates in the upcoming midterm elections. We've tolerated these clowns for the longest time.

This was me with Señor Manuel many years ago, when I first visited Mexico. Coming from a tropical country where the summer heat can literally kill you, I wasn't used to the relative cold of Mexico City in winter, and you can see the difference here in the way we were dressed -- it's hilarious.  He took me out one evening, along with my wife, Diana -- his youngest daughter -- to the best taqueria in town.I didn't speak a lick of Spanish at that time, and it was a pleasant surprise when Señor Manuel spoke to me in fluent English after graciously playing the piano for me after dinner one night in their home. He talked to me about his career as a music teacher that spanned many decades, and it never failed to amaze me to hear stories from his own former students -- many of whom would still call him on his birthday or on Christmas day after all these years -- about how inspiring a teacher he was to them. Some of these students we would chance upon on the street while we were wal...

Many years ago, I tried my hand at poetry.  A couple of my early “poems” were published in the student paper back in college, and I thought I could probably develop my poetry writing skills more, try to improve on my fledgling attempts.  I dropped it. Never tried to write a poem ever since.  I used to love reading poetry too. (I still enjoy the occasional poetry collection now and then, but fiction is still my go-to read.) I loved trying to make sense of the meaning of every poem, because to me a well-written poem should be metaphorical. What you see isn’t what you get. A well-written poem is a puzzle to be solved.  But ironically, the biggest reason I quit trying to write poetry is I couldn’t make use of metaphor or simile well. To me, my poems seemed superficial, shallow. Best leave it to the experts, I thought.  Through the years I’ve come across writers who’ve argued that poems should be more “accessible,” and I’ve appreciated these “easy to read” ...