Menthol-Guy

I am not that political, but the University has taught me not to be apathetic, especially in campus issues. I don’t post anything political in this blog, nor do I write anything political, so in this post I humbly ask your patience if ever my political views are incoherent or incorrect.

A few weeks ago rumors have started to swarm the campus that by next semester, the large class policy will be implemented on all RGEP courses (History, Psychology, Philosophy, College Writing, College English, Speech Communication, among other subjects related to the Humanities and the Social Sciences). If my facts serve me right, the policy states that every class must have at least 160 students all flocked in a single class. Imagine a school of sardines all packed in a single can.

Taking Math11

I took Math11 (College Algebra) when I was a freshman, and though I very much welcome my weakness in Mathematics, I have to admit that its being a large class also was a factor with my performance. The usual joke back then is when my classmates would ask my class standing, I tell them nakaupo na nga ang class standing ko eh, which is way below the passing grade.

Math11 is a three-unit course: a one-hour lecture twice a week and a one-hour recitation class once a week. One of my biggest problems is my lecture class (and, let my problems in that semester be in a pie chart, three-fourths of it I shall label Math11), especially my professor, since he skims his Powerpoint slides and assume that every goddamn student in the lecture hall knows what he’s talking about. He used to say, “oh, you guys know this way back in High School” as if everyone of us came straight from a Science High School. We used to discuss two to three topics in forty-five minutes; when we’re lucky he would solve two hardcore problems on the whiteboard–students at the farthest corners of the classroom couldn’t see his solutions.

So every time I go to that lecture hall, when I was a freshman, I know I’m failing. I’m still listening, still writing notes as prolific as with my other subjects, but I think no matter how thick your notes are in Math, it’s useless if you don’t understand the basics. I drag my feet to that subject (sometimes I skip the class, especially after knowing my class standing). Every time I receive my quizzes, it’s a zero. I don’t even understand factoring, dammit.

I asked help from my blockmate who’s performing very well in the subject, but she’s not that much of an effective tutor, though I appreciated her effort. She says “factor this then solve this” like it’s the most natural thing to do. I texted another tutor, a Civil Engineering freshman, but it turns out that he’s quite of a nutcrack (no offense to him, but we argued about the simplest things in life–heck, we didn’t even meet once).

In the recitation class my professor has this penchant for filling the blackboard with solutions. We spend two yellow pads for forty-five minutes, all of those are solutions, solutions, solutions. In the last few months my blockmate and I just stare at the blank yellow pad paper; you’re supposed to know what you did in the lecture class, because in the recitation class we only do exercises.

It’s hopeless, I used to say with a sigh. It’s a painful thing to know that my parents would know about my 5.0 at my first semester in UP (though again, my parents understand–especially my Dad; he got a 3.0 in his Math11 in Diliman).

In a large lecture class, I couldn’t ask questions. When my lecture professor would ask us if we have any questions, I’m sometimes tempted to raise my hand, but the mere imagination of all those 160 students looking at me and asking for a handicapped explanation is very embarrassing.

Half of the class failed the class (as what I’ve heard), including me. My professor’s name became known out of that incident; his name is just so notorious when someone asks me about my professor in Math11 they’d say, kaya naman pala.

I took Math11 again after three semesters out of fear of going back to the perimeters of Math building (until now I hate going there). I passed it because the finals exam (of course I wasn’t exempted) was almost exactly the same with the Pre-Finals. I got a grade of 3.0.

What I think

Large classes can be a very practical way of cost-cutting, but the fact that ever since our batch came it had a 300% increase, why cost-cut? Is the Tuition and Other Fee Increase not enough to cater both quality education and buying new facilities, renovating buildings?

I am after the implementation of large classes in Humanities and Social Science subjects, considering the nature of these subjects, which needs a student-professor interaction, and not just mere spoonfeeding of lessons and handouts. Science and Math subjects are a different case, I think (though there should be a small class for mathematically-challenged, like a special class or something; just kidding). Imagine Speech Communication in a large-class setting; how could a student, god bless him, deliver a speech in front of 160 students when he couldn’t even deliver it with 30 students? (Though rumors say that there will be recitation classes, the same process with Math and Science subjects.) Same goes with all the other subjects.

Also, the junior faculty of both Department of Humanities and Department of Social Sciences will be wiped-out since, to put it simply, only the senior faculty will remain to teach the large classes. It’s probably out of sympathy that I detest this part since my Psychology professor has been having qualms about it for the past few weeks. Sadly, I have to say she’s one of my most effective and competent professors ever (the entire class would have to agree with that, I’m betting my laptop about this).

When I was a freshman I watched Isko’t Iska, a play-slash-musical which demonstrates what it’s like in the university, like a play to give way and welcome the new batch. One of their songs has the lyrics “conducive to learning, U P L B.” For the next set of freshmen, if ever the large class policy will be implemented, I don’t think the lyrics would still fit in their condition.

I’m very much disappointed that some of my classmates, especially my Communication Arts batchmates, are not that sympathetic with these affairs (though I know they do have their personal reasons). They refuse to go to the rallies and fight for the remaining threads of quality education in the University. Think of the next batches; the tuition fee increase happened four years ago, yes, but we should not let this happen.

LARGE CLASS POLICY, IBASURA!

IT’S OFFICIAL!

My sembreak started yesterday (yes, just yesterday, thanks to my Accounting exam) and I went to the mall with a bunch of High School friends. Oh, the feeling of not having any academic-related qualms and problems. It’s just ecstatic and addictive. I got myself a new haircut (as usual, the spiky one), bought four books (all worth a hundred pesos) and watched Kulam.

Movie review: Kulam

You probably know me as Americanized in terms of film-watching but since I adhere towards the concept of democracy (wherein the majority’s choice shall be followed), I had to watch Kulam. Or rather, I forced myself to watch it. After I had seen Judy Ann Santos at the movie poster while we were filing ourselves to buy movie tickets, I cringe at the thought. I rarely watch mainstream Filipino movies because of hypocrite-sounding reasons. But the movie’s not really bad after all.

_{*lits up his third Dunhill Frost cigarette, and I’m really sorry for myself for acquiring another nicotine rush after two months of nicotine cleansing*}

It’s a good film to watch. Though you might end up wondering why it’s entitled “Kulam” since it only exhibited a tad of witchcraft in the plot, it nevertheless did not affect the film’s impact on me. Uhh, let me see. The acting’s not really convincing especially with the blind child–her eyes actually flicker twice in the entire movie. At some scenes, the child even had the COURAGE to even hold a Handycam and get videos of her mother (Judy Ann)! The video’s even properly set and focused! How’s that for being blind!?

As usual, the computer-generated graphics isn’t really that good but it wouldn’t make any difference in terms of the movie’s substance.

The plot is definitely two thumbs up. The storyline’s the factor that made the entire thing a horror movie. It’s thought-provoking, something that would confuse you at first but after adding up the right story shards you’ll get the picture. It diverts itself away from the usual horror movies which was entirely predictable.

The movie’s shocking in some ways. Though I’m rarely absorbent (?) when it comes to horror movies (all of my friends felt like cheated when I told them I didn’t enjoy the movie as “horror” since I didn’t even budge while watching it), it’s nice to know that Filipino filmmakers are doing a great job to elevate its already-deteriorating status.

My best friend was ultimately scared. She only managed to watch 35 percent of the film (according to her estimate; I think it’s 40) since she’s always closing her eyes. I told her to fight her fears but she just can’t, she really can’t.

After the movie I bought lettuce and hearts of romaine for the next day’s grilling sessions with Dad.

Wishlist this sembreak

• Drink with childhood friends (the friends I grew up with in the subdivision–I need a lot of catching up to do ever since I decided to mamugad at UPLB).
• Go to Tagaytay or Baguio just for the heck of it. Weed, perhaps? Huh.
• Read at least ten books. Yes, ten. The books that I’ve read, if “ratioed” with the total books I have, would be more likely a 1:9.
• Swim, play badminton and do anything sporty and fat-burning with friends.
• Clean my messy room. When I say messy, it’s really really messy.
• Go to some bar with a couple of friends.
• Watch tons of great movies courtesy of HBO, Star Movies and Cinemax. LOL

That’s it. I think I’ll be posting something geeky (i.e., a book review) tomorrow. I’m also planning to do something similar with that of Shari’s 24-hour-readathon. But I’m still thinking about it. And I’m working on another fiction about drugs and everything.

Who wouldn’t be drooling over the idea of going to some stage, any stage, and receive applause with the job you’re doing? Who wouldn’t be drooling over the idea of the mere action of thanking everybody for the appreciation and the acclaims?

Of course it must have felt good.

Of course I should have gotten another cellphone. That I should have at least voted is my greatest mistake; that I should have at least thought of my number, 2093, as one of the hundreds of slips of paper inside the fishbowl, waiting to be caught.

All I thought, history could repeat itself.

I actually brought (and this is unintentional) the same cellphone unit I had brought with me at last year’s Philippine Blog Awards. I was also situated right next, if not near, to Billycoy, which was the same guy I am sitting right next to during PBA 07.

But it must be bad luck to walk from Mall of Asia to One Esplanade just because some dickhead by the name of Rens to go to MOA. Of course I asked the driver, the ever-attentive taxi driver, if he could bring me at some place called One Esplanade, and he nodded several times. Yes sir, he probably said.

Maybe things conspire against you in its most unexpected. Right after I paid the taxi driver and just a couple of minutes after I slammed the cab’s door, found myself in front of some chicken restaurant and went to the sidewalk, I found my way to a security guard or anyone - just anyone who has this impeccable credibility with regard to directions. At that time, Ian sent a text message saying that “a cab would be great since One Esplanade’s quite far from Mall of Asia.”

I darted my eyes towards the bay and sifted the buildings until there stood One Esplanade, twice the distance of what I usually walk during Thursday classes here at UPLB (man, it was faaaaaar). It was outrageously far that I blamed both the taxi and the dickhead for this well-deserved walk I had to traverse besides the fact that I came all the way to Bulacan and that I am late (this is yet to become my personal trademark, being late). I did not enjoy the abandoned then-Manila Bay savannahs. I did not enjoy my being confident about my knowledge with the venue; that I should have at least looked at the map the organizers have provided carefully.

But behind my personal disappointments with the taxi driver and the cellphone raffle, I would still call this year’s Philippine Blog Awards as better: better and well-planned (and Shari suddenly wondered why I even thought it was well-planned).

By the way, the breaded porkchop wrapped in fried wonton was - in every sense of the word - delicious.

Also, I would like to congratulate Benj for bagging this year’s Personal Blog Award (all hail!). And of course, THE Mr. Gibbs Cadiz for bagging this year’s best Arts & Culture Blog Award and for finally meeting him!

For the company: Aaron, Ian, Ferbert, Alan, Micamyx, Poyt, Jeff, Mariano and Xienah.

And, by the waaaay, I’m so much into Lostphotograph, Octwelve and Dino Latoga’s Una theme (and I’m tempted to download it and install in here - but NOT, since I’m still digging Derek Punsalan’s masterpiece).

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When I was on my way home, I suddenly thought of changing URLs. I don’t smoke anymore (two weeks and counting). Heck, how many times have I been telling myself to stop smoking but after three weeks or so, I’d still do it. But I think this one’s permanent.

Not just for a one-month vacation, dude. It’s for a lifetime. Though it’s still tentative (like 70 percent sure), I’m quite feeling a mixture of emotions right now (or for the past few days).

Well, Dad received an offer from some corporation (or maybe I just wanted to make it sound grand but that’s what I’ve heard, anyway) that’s based in Abu Dhabi. Yeah, the United Arab Emirates. It’s just near Dubai, like a one-hour drive or something so maybe we could go to Palm Jumeirah and all that classy seven-star hotel and the beach and shawarma stands. Anyway, the offer deals with an amount that’s bigger with his salary here plus education benefits for the minor (and I’m just seventeen, ohmaygad). I should demand for a condo unit, or a Macbook for studying (megaLULz for a spoiled corporate son, as if the very word ‘corporate’ fits with me).

But anyway, my Dad told me about the offer and asked my opinion about it the morning before I go to the concert. So I was feeling tense and light-headed at the same time: excited since I’d be seeing Ely Buendia and the rest of the guys onstage and tense, just tense, since I was kind of feeling that something could go wrong (and it did happen to Ely). With planned events I feel tension since most of them have this tendency to go haywire - not that I’m a huge pessimist but that’s just true, most of the time. I feel the bonkers and think of necessary preparations before even going. Like, mental preparations. Whatever.

When Dad told me about it, I was watching HBO and I was a bit absorbed with the movie. Here’s another thing: he’s completely fresh from the bed and his eyes were even tired from the sleep and he was having a hard time putting things into words so I thought he was just kidding. I was even checking if he’s lucid and conscious enough to even talk about such a serious thing to me - though I really liked his way of consulting to me.

“When will this happen?” I suddenly asked, somewhat excited.

If there’s anything I’ve been hoping ever since I got my ass on here at UPLB, it’s change. I’m demanding change - my course had to be a royal pain in the ass since I’m not really liking it, though nowadays I’m quite glued with my Economics subject since I’m having a good time with all the graphs but generally speaking - I don’t really like it. I should really apply for some writing-related course but I’m just not that inspired to even write those formal letters which addresses appeal to pity and all that please-admit-me stuff.

I welcome change. A lot, actually. Though usually I experience bouts of sentimental shit and all that goodbye stuff the way Holden hates saying goodbye without even surveying the entire place or something, but I’m actually good with adjusting. Living in the Middle East could be one of the major leaps in my life, and I don’t speak Arabian or even understand Arabian, but I hope they could at least speak and understand English - fluent or not. Else I shall master sign languages.

With all the pressing problems here in the Philippines (not politically or generally speaking, though), I think my Dad will accept the offer. I just hope this is not just some shoot-to-the-moon attempt to go abroad, study and work our asses off. Dammet, my Dad’s working on the same corporation for thirty-something years. It’s probably an attack towards our nationalism or patriotism or whatsoever, but I have no comment on that. As I’ve said, it’s more of the personal issues that presses us to actually migrate.

But lately, as I’ve been having a lot of rumination about it (and I’ve only conferred to two people and shared my side of story to them), it’s kind of sad. I mean, c’mon, where in the world can you even play on computer shops? Where can you find fishball vendors and jeepneys and phonies at malls wearing their fake Nikes? Where can you find Blogger’s events, friends who would even convince you to sleep at their dorm, orgmates to smoke with, to watch DVDs with, and even professors to prank?

Our homeland will always be dear to our hearts. It’s the single addiction we have ever since we were born.

I just hate it when my friends would be planning their subjects for the next semester or asking me what I’m gonna take next semester (probably literature subjects) or where am I gonna reside next semester. I wanted to tell them that hey, my Dad and I were planning to leave this October for Abu Dhabi. But I can’t. I’m not even sure about it, but what if everything’s settled? When will I wave goodbye at them? When will I even take a last glance at UPLB, at Drew’s Katipunan?

Sheeesh. I hate myself when I go emotional but it’s really nice to let it out for once in a while.

_{Post header courtesy of Deviantart.}