Berso Sa Metro

What follows is the Berso Sa Metro translation of Pablo Neruda’s “Tu Risa” (Your Laughter):

Ipagkait mo na sa akin ang tinapay,
Ang hangin, ang liwanag at ang tagsibol
Huwag lamang ang iyong ngiti
Dahi ito’y aking ikasasawi.

I noticed the poem on my way to Gilmore yesterday (relevant post: “Define Futile.”). This was the first time any of the poems plastered on the carriage walls of the LRT caught my attention.

On the Gilmore-Katipunan LRT ride back, I was stuck in a well-meaning but mean-looking carriage that screamed “Spread the charity virus” in painful red and blue. Can’t charity be poetic, too?

Packing Up

I’m going home for the semestral break on Wednesday. Preparing for the trip is a twofold endeavor.

On the one hand, I’ve been packing my things and cleaning up my room—no small feat considering how messy a person I am.

On the other hand, I’ve been praying really hard and hoping Typhoon Megi (known to the tambays in the kanto as “Juan”) doesn’t throw a monkey wrench in all my plans for the semestral break.

In which I gush with school pride. UP FIGHT!

I was at Araneta on Sunday, along with almost 21,000 other people, screaming at the top of my lungs and high on school pride as I watched the UAAP Cheerdance Competition. I had been looking forward to the CDC ever since I entered UP in June, thrilled as I was about the stories of the euphoria that rushed through the stands whenever UP’s famed Pep Squad performed.

I even lined up in the University Gymnasium’s parking lot on Tuesday afternoon, not leaving the line even when the rain suddenly decided to pour, but they ran out of tickets to sell before I was even able to get into the gym. (I had also heard about the fabled Cheerdance tickets, which always sold out in one day.) The nice people of Globe Telecom’s Social Media Team had tickets to give out, though, so I ended up watching the cheerdance competition live and for free!

The CDC was my first UAAP experience, and it was shocking. My companions and I walked into the section of the coliseum reserved for UP and found that it was packed to the gills—he General Admission section, especially—so we looked for seats in the neighboring sections. We ended up in a block of chairs sandwiched right between the University of the East and Adamson University. As soon as I sat down, the auditory assault began—snare drums beating incessantly, holy shit, this is wild, I’m going to come out of here deaf, are the Four Horsemen here yet, it’s the freaking end of the world!

Soon, the routines began, and I clapped when I felt it polite to, taunting loudly at every little failure.

Then, it was UP’s turn.

Imagine us, a crowd of six Iskos, dressed in maroon and white, seated in a sea of Adamson blue, with patches of UE Red nearby. The UP crowd roared.

We stood up and yelled. Shouted. Screamed. Broke frontiers in human vocals. UP FIGHT!

At the beginning only we were on our feet, sharing the UP spirit with our comrades two sections over. But when the UP Pep Squad took to the floor and started their routine, everyone else stood up too, and I was quite surprised to notice, when I took my eyes off the performance floor for a few seconds, that everyone else in the arena—from Ateneo to UST—was standing up and shouting, too. Everyone seemed to have decided to throw school pride out the window, at least for five minutes—we were that good. UP Pep did what it does best: electrify a crowd, no matter what color they cheered for. I couldn’t help but turn around, face the sea of Adamson supporters in the seats behind me, and shout defiantly, “UP, BABY!” No one seemed to notice me. All their mouths were agape, and all their eyes were pinned on the nation’s scholars dancing in center court.

The end of UP’s routine was met with a roar that echoed across the building, and that didn’t come from UP alone. Araneta was clearly impressed.

While we waited for the announcement, the snare-beating began again, each school cheering over each other. When UST yelled, ‚”Go, USTE! Go, USTE! Go, USTE!” the UP crowd went with them, even following their trademark hand gesture. Then DLSU screamed “Animo La Salle!”; Ateneo shouted “One Big Fight”!; Adamson said ‚”Push on to win” or whatever. When they were done we went, ‚”U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS!” School pride. My friend Amiel, a Sociology major, would call it “collective effervescence”.

But when it was announced that UST was 2nd runner-up, the atmosphere completely changed, and all the other schools, save for the defending champions FEU, began to yell a familiar chant:

U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS!

I had to laugh. Everyone affirmed what I, and probably everyone else from UP, knew the moment UP Pep finished their routine: we were going to take back the crown that belonged to us.

And so, while the commercials played on TV, a lopsided shouting match broke out in the Big Dome: FEU yapped on about their being tamaraws or whatever, and everyone clapped along politely. Then, when they were done, everyone cleared their throats, UP’s drums started beating, and UP, Ateneo, La Salle, UST, UE, AdU, and NU screamed, with fists shaking at FEU:

UP! UP! UP! UP!

U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS!

And when we were done, FEU waved their yellow handkerchiefs in the air. Save the Tamaraws!

UP! UP! UP! UP!

Other schools’ drums were hit to the beat of UP’s iconic chant.

U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS! MATATAPANG! MATATALINO!

The commercial break was over, and Boom Gonzales opened the envelope and read the results: FEU takes second place.

Any doubt that still remained as to the outcome of the competition evaporated at that instant. And then, even before FEU’s Pep Squad was finished with their photo-ops, the winner was officially announced.

THEY’RE BACK ON TOP—THE UNIVERSITY OF THE PHILIPPINES.

The whole coliseum erupted in jubilation as everyone shared in the victory of UP.

And then, the chant broke out again, and all of Araneta joined: U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS!

After the initial euphoria died down and the stadium cleared a little, UP’s supporters, who were scattered all around the arena, raised fisted right hands—another iconic symbol of the university and its liberal culture.

I’ve said it before: I have seen few sights more breathtaking, more awe-inspiring, than a swarm of maroon and white and proudly raised fists. SCHOOL PRIDE. UP FIGHT. We sang “UP Naming Mahal” our fists shaking in unison as we did. It was one of those moments that really make you feel proud to be called an Iskolar ng Bayan.

“Mabuhay ang pag-asa ng bayan,” we sang. And after that, one more time: U-NIBERSIDAD! NG PILIPINAS! The feeling of being part of UP’s grand, time-tested culture is something I can only give to you in the form of a ticket to the UAAP Cheerdance Competition. (Or a Form 5, but no matter how long you queue or how much money you fork over, you won’t be able to get one.)

I walked away from Araneta with a crumpled “Let’s go, UP!” sign, a newfound respect for my sense of hearing, and a whole new shitload of school pride. UP FIGHT!

* * *

My thanks again to Andre Montejo of Globe Telecom’s Social Media Team for my ticket to the CDC!

In Manila, Will Write

Tuesday marks the day I can officially call myself a college student. Today I bade goodbye to my hometown and hopped on a plane to NAIA, thence on a car to UP Diliman. I spent roughly an hour and a half in Kalayaan, filling out forms and stuff (red tape for the win), pausing every once in a while only to walk to the nearby Shopping Center to buy index cards, papers, envelopes, and whatnot. I will make the necessary payments and have my forms notarized on Monday, but for today I threw all my stuff in my dorm room (basement, baby!) and headed to SM North Edsa to buy things I needed for the dorm.

Kalayaan’s state is deplorable, to be honest. You’re lucky if your locks are broken—at least they’re not missing. The wood on the cabinets is rotting. Vandalism has soiled the walls, although artistically so. All things considered, though, the place is livable, because these days all you really need is electricity, running water, and, most important of all, WiFi. It could be much worse.

Tonight I’m in a hotel in Pasay City. Tomorrow will most likely be spent in MOA, primarily jejebusting but also finishing my pre-school-year shopping. Then in the afternoon or evening, I will go back to Diliman to spend my first night as a Kalayaan dormer.

Above is a picture of everything writing-related that is in my bag. I have many more books at home, and I wanted to bring all of them, but as I was packing I realized that space is scarce and that I’m not keen on the idea of bringing a boxful of dead trees with me to a small dorm room, so this is all I brought:

• Green Apple spiral-bound notebook, where I do most of my writing.
• Moleskine ruled notebook, for journal entries.
• “Basic Journalism” by Estrada and Nem Singh. You’ll have to squint really hard if you want to see it in the picture. I bought this two or three years ago, although I’ve been referring to it since elementary.
• “Feature Writing For Filipinos” by Genove. As an elementary and high school campus journalist I participated in the Feature Writing category.
• A small copy of the 1986 Constitution.
• “Twisted V” and “Twisted 8 1/2” by Jessica Zafra. I read her blog and just started following her columns on the Star. I’m a firsthand victim of her viciousness, but she is entertaining to read nonetheless.
• “Youngblood” and “Youngblood 2.0”, anthologies of the popular Inquirer column.
• “Killing Time In A Warm Place” by Jose Y. Dalisay, Jr. My thoughts on the book.
• “Stainless Longganisa” by Bob Ong.
• Barron’s Book Notes of Ernest Hemingway’s “The Old Man And The Sea.” Perhaps the best book I’ve ever read.
• My small fountain pen collection: a basic Pilot and a big-nibbed Parker. The Pilot is a pump converter; the Parker is one of those newfangled ones that use refill cartridges. My Quink inkwell is not in the picture because I forgot to pack it.
• Canon PowerShot A650 IS. I love this camera. Sadly, months ago it went priapic. Its lens won’t retract. I’m hoping I can have it repaired tomorrow, although from what I’ve read online it can be cheaper to buy a new camera than to send an old one in for fixing.
• Sterling daily planner.
• That little orange guy that keeps the pages in place when I’m reading a book. Given to me by a very good friend.

Ready for take-off?

In a matter of weeks I will pack my things, clear my room, and hop on a plane bound for Manila, bringing with me the weight of my parents’ dreams for me. I feel like the modern, middle-class equivalent of that guy in the Filipino movies of decades past—the clueless promdi who receives kisses and well wishes from his teary-eyed friends and family then hops on a ship bound for the big city, and who, upon arriving, takes off his straw hat and raises his head to marvel at the skyscrapers and the airplanes that dominate the alien landscape, before setting off, knapsack slung over his back, to look for a job.

After five years’ worth of afternoons spent playing patintero and hide-and-seek and worrying about absolutely nothing, six years in the protective cocoon of private elementary school, and four years in the blissful turbulence of public high school, I’m finally heading off, living on my own for the first time in my life. It’s scary, in a way, going off on your own, severing yourself from the tether of dependence you’ve worn all your life. I’m not sure how long it’ll take me to get used to having to fend for myself out there in the wilderness they call the real world. I’m going to have fun trying, I’m sure.

But it is as exciting as it is daunting. I don’t know what awaits me in the skyscraper-lined avenues of the Metro, the tree-lined roads of UP, and the book-lined walls of its buildings. I’m yet unsure about what it will feel like to rub elbows with my generation’s future greats. I will be charting the course for my future, studying to become a journalist in the worst place in the world to be one, mulling over going on to pursue law and one day earn the general scorn of my fellowmen. The near future, I realize, is full of uncertainty, but so is life; I’m not fully sure of where I’m going, but I am sure I will enjoy the ride.

My parents will call, email, maybe pay a few visits; reunions with friends and classmates will take place on Facebook walls, in chat windows, and in a few chance encounters in airport lobbies or malls; I will fall in love, climb back out of it, and fall again, and maybe one day fall for the last time. When I return everything will have changed, myself included. Whether for better or for worse, we will find out when we find out.

In June I will take off to a new city and, in many ways, an entirely new life. I will meet new people and learn new things. I’ve often asked myself whether I’m ready, and although I still have no answer to the question, I know it won’t matter. The Universe won’t wait for me to be ready, it’ll just go when it wants to. Sounds like fun.

Happiness

A brief account of how my day went:

Woke up at around half past eight. Went to school to claim my copy of the yearbook. Found out it’s not ready yet. Sat around for a while, chatting with classmates, sharing our qualms about college and talking about other random things.

Went to McDonald’s, where I and a couple of my classmates were treated to lunch by Xavier. Afterwards we watched “How To Train Your Dragon” (tickets also courtesy of Xavier—thanks, Xav!); it was an engaging film, didn’t get bored at all.

Then I walked to church. We were supposed to hold rehearsals for this project we’re doing, but given that most of those involved didn’t show up, we called it off. We decided to play hide-and-seek. In the middle of our game the rain started to fall. We sought shelter.

As we watched the raindrops pelt the ground, one of the kids started playing in the rain. Pretty soon I was emptying my pockets and taking off my watch.

I hadn’t expected the rain to fall. I had brought neither a change of clothes nor a towel.

But still, I decided on an impulse to venture into the open and, for the first time in a very long time, play in the rain. It was the most cathartic thing I’ve ever done in quite a while.

Me and friends in the rain.

I’ve been so busy growing up that I’ve forgotten the joy of catching raindrops with your tongue, stretching your arms out, letting go and just feeling life.

I’ve found happiness—it’s in the raindrops.

Sucks to your ass-mar!

School has been suspended until next year to give way to Christmas vacation. The weeks leading up to the break have been unusually full of activity for me as well as for my classmates. I and my colleagues in the school paper were in a frenzy for almost a month preparing to send our first (and probably only) issue to the press, but thankfully all the copyreading has been done and the layout finalized and the paper is now ready for printing. Now that that’s all over with, I can finally sit down to blog.

***

A quick update on my reading. My journey through the classics of literature continues. I finished reading two notable works since my last blog post—”Lord of the Flies” by William Golding and “Of Mice and Men” by John Steinbeck. Both were very interesting and very impeccably written.

“Lord of the Flies” plays on the concept of man’s inherent savagery which surfaces in the absence of order (which is to say, when man is stripped down to his bare essentials). I found it very easy to root for Ralph and despise Jack throughout the story. The gripping finale, when rescue arrives on the island just as Ralph is about to be killed by Jack and his men, manages to be both amusing and sobering at the same time. Golding succeeds in demonstrating through the novel the immutable fact that man is cruel and savage by nature.

“Of Mice and Men”, meanwhile, paints a pitiful yet inexplicably beautiful picture of America during the Depression. I can only imagine George and Lennie in their soiled clothes, denim jumpers and tattered straw hats bucking barley in a California ranch, dreaming of a carefree life tending to rabbits and living in their own simple home. The saddening truth that the farmhands will never earn enough money to realize their ambition is rivaled only by their admirable ability to believe otherwise. Also remarkable is the irony that breathes life into the two protagonists’ partnership. Imagine a heavyset man who often acts like a child taking orders from a short, wiry fellow who talks to him condescendingly.

Allow me a brief moment of unbridled sexism so I can mention the matter of Curley’s wife. A solitary woman in a masculine world is bound to cause trouble—Curley’s wife is definite proof of that. Only she and her locks of smooth, silky hair are able to lay waste to George and Lennie’s humble dreams of hakuna matata. This concept is far from new, of course (Genesis is an enduring example of how woman is often thought of as mankind’s ticket to damnation), but no portrayal of the idea I’ve read—so far, at least—is quite as heartbreaking as Steinbeck’s in “Of Mice and Men”.

***

My dad started teaching me the basics of driving recently. I’ve been doing most of my practice driving on the relatively deserted city bypass road—mostly just learning when and how to switch gears, all the basic stuff. On two occasions my dad let me drive the family car on long (long for me anyway) stretches of national highway. One time, I lost my concentration to the frenzy of a busy intersection—I had come to a full stop to allow perpendicular traffic to pass, and when I was clear to go, I switched to second gear directly from neutral (from a full stop, you must always go from neutral to first). Of course my engine shut off on me.

My three-point turn skills need more sharpening and I’m yet to learn to parallel-park.

***

In nine days, we will bid adieu to 2009 and say hello to 2010. 2009 was a crazy year, wasn’t it? We said goodbye to too many influential people (MJ, Tita Cory and Ka Erdy, to name a few), went through Typhoons Ondoy and Pepeng, and stood witness to a vicious murder that was committed in the name of greed, power and money. The year that was 2009 was nothing short of trying for the Filipino, but we successfully braved the storm as we always do, looking forward to the promise that the new year brings.

***

We had our annual year-end Thanksgiving at church today. I certainly have so, so many things I am thankful for and it is impossible to name each one. More impossible still is to fully repay the good Lord for the boundless blessings He has showered upon me, my family, and the Church throughout the year. Glory be to God!

***

[Image credits: “Of Mice and Men” book cover from Wikipedia]

Writing and reading

October was a very blessed month for me. Besides turning a year older last month, I won second place for Feature Writing during the Regional Schools Press Conference, so I will be going to Tagum City to compete in the Nationals. I was also named Caraga’s Outstanding Campus Journalist for the Secondary level during the same event.

***

I finished reading two classic books this week: Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince and Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea.

The Little Prince is a very odd book. I’m sure the author meant to bring a point across, and I guess he succeeded, at least in a way—Asteroid B612’s little prince’s frivolity is a wake-up call to people whose lives are too preoccupied by things too worldly to warrant so much attention. The finicky rose on his home planet and how he painstakingly took care of it could perhaps be interpreted to symbolize love and all that. However, I find it extremely difficult to understand why Saint-Exupéry chose the little prince and his psychedelic adventures to be the vessel of his message. Perhaps I’ve grown too old to appreciate the color and wonder of his work.

That scares me. I don’t want to ever grow old in that sense.

The second book, The Old Man and the Sea, is a fantastic (and much more digestible, at least to me) read. I cheated, though—instead of the book itself, I read Barron’s Book Notes for it. In fairness to myself, I feel I wouldn’t have appreciated the novella as much if I’d read the original work. Hemingway did such a masterful job with the symbolism in the book, regardless of whether you think it was autobiographical. I think that without the Book Notes, I wouldn’t have caught the little nuances that make the book so enduring, such as when Hemingway paints Santiago as a man whose life was the sea—a fact reflected by his eyes which were colored like the ocean—and who appeared dead with his eyes shut.

If you still haven’t read The Old Man and the Sea, though, I recommend you purchase a copy of the work itself together with the Book Notes. I think that is the best way to enjoy the work. Hemingway’s simple but strong language is superbly effective in unfetteredly delivering what he wants delivered but can sometimes belie to the plebeian reader the tenacity and emotion of his work, so the Book Notes can be thought of as a guide to deconstruct the complexity of the masterpiece.

Thank you, by the way, to Sir Jay for loaning me the Book Notes.

***

Dan Brown’s latest novel, The Lost Symbol, hasn’t had much luck with critics, or so I’ve heard. I hate to even entertain the thought, but could Robert Langdon’s glory days be over? Maybe the world has simply grown tired of an eternally single, claustrophobic Harvard symbologist’s history-rich capers. Maybe Dan Brown has milked every last creative drop out of Langdon. Maybe there is no more story to be milked.

I haven’t read the book yet, though, so I’ll reserve personal judgment for later. I would have bought a copy the last time I was within comfortable distance of a National Bookstore branch, but the Php900++ price tag on the hardcover version is out of my reach. Considering what the book reviews have been saying, I can wait for it to come out in paperback form.

***

Currently, I’m reading Dreams From My Father by Barack Obama. I’ve barely reached page 30 of the book but so far it’s been a captivating and insightful read, made enjoyable by Obama’s simple style.

***

National Novel Writing Month 2009 has begun!

I spent a considerable amount of time last night formulating the very general plot of my novel. I think today I’ll hurry up character development and finally give my protagonist and the object of his affection their names. I have a November 30 deadline to meet, and a NaNo participant who wants to complete his novel must write at least 1,667 words a day to meet the 50,000-word requirement. Those who can only work on weekends must be able to come up with 12,500 words every weekend to make the quota! Obviously there is a lot of work to be done, and with school and other highly important things also on my to-do list, this year’s NaNo is promising to be very daunting.

***

I very recently upgraded my machine to Linux Ubuntu 9.10 Karmic Koala, the latest version of the popular Linux distribution. It is no exaggeration to say that this OS is gorgeous, inside and out. The pedestrian user may not be able to readily recognize the more drastic changes that have been made—mostly in security and in the Linux kernel itself—but they will definitely improve overall user experience.

I’ve made it a point to do a clean install every time a new version comes out (instead of clicking “Upgrade” in Update Manager). This time around, I found a little difficulty in installing Karmic as my DVD drive had gone bonkers so I couldn’t burn a CD. I decided to download the Karmic ISO then use the USB Startup Disk Creator utility that came with 8.10 Jaunty Jackalope to make Karmic bootable from my flash drive. After fiddling with the BIOS a little, booting from the USB key and setting up Ubuntu, I was good to go. It took me a grand total of less than two hours and $0 to get set up. This is why I love FOSS.

Stepping Off the Ring

February is drawing near, which for many schools (including mine) means that politics is in the air again. Would-be public servants are readying their slogans and filling out Certificates of Candidacy in preparation for upcoming elections.

I know what that feels like—I’ve been an active (school) politician for no less than five years now. Ever since my early grade school days, I’ve been campaigning, dancing, swaying and extravagantly promising my way to power. 

In my sophomore year in high school, I decided to lay off the political circus in favor of concentrating on my curricular studies. I thought it was better to set aside my political ambitions and prioritize hitting the books (which I rarely do). I also found it a welcome break from the usual frenzy and buzz I had to endure, what with all the practice and preparation associated with campaigns. I like to think that my abstinence wasn’t useless: I climbed back to Section One from my Section Three status. (I’ve made my feelings about that transfer very clear.) 

I had previously planned on re-entering the political scene for the final time (this year’s election will be the last one I will be eligible to run in), but now, I’ve decided to retire from government officialdom for good.

The decision was brought about by a number of things. First of all, the past, gruelling eight months of school have taken their toll on me—I’m one burnt out dude. There have been days when schoolwork has sucked out all life from my lanky frame. Rarely do I get more than six hours of sleep a day, and what little energy is replenished from rest, is quickly taken away by the endless things to do at school. When I get home, I drop to my bed, lie down for a while, and then get up again to do what needs to be done. I’m burnt out. Burnt out like hell. Campaigning for a position in the student government would only add burden to the weakling in me.

It was also brought about by sudden, massive changes in the political system of my school. One word: reboot. For a reason I have no knowledge of, it was decided that the two political parties should dissolve and its members shuffled around. It is my belief that this was because one of the political parties (the one which I ran under in my freshman year) has been winning landslide victories for two or three election cycles now. (Of course, my theory could be completely wrong; it’s just that I don’t see any other plausible reason for the shuffle. If you do, say so in the comments section, please and thank you.) It, in my opinion, is useless and only defeats the purpose of organized political parties. Candidates running under one banner should be unified in purpose and be able to work with one another. That would be implausible if you mix and match people from both sides of the isle. (his is the reason why Americans vote for a party ticket, not individual candidates, in the presidential elections. Having a president and vice-president that disagreed with each other would prevent government from being productive and functioning properly. The same concept should apply even at the school level.

The shuffle left me disenchanted. It made it apparent that elections were held for a shallower purpose than service to the people.

And then there’s the list of what I’ve accomplished as an SSG official. That list is practically empty. Although the Supreme Student Government has, as a whole, done much for the school and the community, I as an official by myself have done practically nothing. I was habitually absent in meetings. Whenever the SSG performed their duties and implements their projects, I wasn’t there either. And that was during my earlier high school days, when things weren’t so busy. Now, as I enter my senior year, I’ll have entrance tests to review for, pressing co-curricular activities to attend to, and still other responsibilities waiting outside the murals of ANHS. I’d have even lesser time to devote to public service, and when that is the case, I don’t think it’s public service at all.

I think I’ve made the final decision: I’m stepping off the bloody, grimy ring of politics, leaving all the dirty work of government to the big guns who have bigger balls to handle the job.

Which is not to say that I’m saying goodbye to public service. I will continue to serve the studentry in my own capacity, and will offer whatever help I can to my party and to the student government.

I could serve by running for office and holding a position in the student government. But there are better ways of serving than that.

[Image: Creative Commons license from http://flickr.com/photos/mikedefiant/3153873557/]

I Want an iPhone

My baby, my sexy sexy baby.

Globe Telecom is releasing the iPhone 3G in the Philippines this Friday, which means only one thing: me wants. Yes, I know gas prices are skyrocketing. Yes, I know that the “standard” cup of rice at the local eatery has shrunk.

But mewants the iPhone 3G.

Why, you say? Why lust after the iPhone 3G when my Nokia E65 is perfectly fine? Here’s why:

• My E65 isn’t perfectly fine. For one, it’s been with me for about a year now, which is eerie by the way given the fact that I usually wreck or lose a phone three seconds after I get it.
• The iPhone’s chic, hip, and high-tech.
• It’s an Apple product, and that automatically means it has quality. (The only Apple product I own as of now is an 8GB iPod nano.)
• Many more reasons.
• mobile phone + iPod + GPS + handheld gaming device rolled into one.
• Dude, it’s an iPhone. You shouldn’t need any more convincing.

My Nokia’s been very laggy as well after I updated its firmware. Its four-way navigation button’s silvery surface is peeling away (and rusting a bit). In short, I need a new phone.

To be more specific, I need an iPhone.

So, I’ve been “accidentally” dropping my E65, slamming it onto walls, and whatever else would wreck the damn thing just in time for Friday. Yes, I’m desperate.

A prepaid 8GB iPhone costs Php37,599.00. From what I understand, you would still have to use a prepaid Globe SIM card together with this phone, and I’m a Smart Telecom user (more textmates, more offers, better rates) right now. But if my folks would get me an iPhone, I’d convert to Globe instantly. Bam Wam Shablam.

*takes glass of water, spills some on Nokia E65* Oops, ’twas an accident, I swearz. I can has iPhone nao?