As I write this, Noynoy Aquino is giving his so-called Ulat sa Bayan, another self-given chance to tell the citizens of the Philippines all that he has accomplished since he assumed the presidency exactly one year ago.

I'm in a bit of a blogging rut, but I've always planned to write about this very occasion, so I decided to turn on the TV and hope that whatever he says inspires me to become a piss-poor attempt at being a political analyst. But there's the problem: I cannot be a political analyst. I cannot see things objectively at this point. I have this deep dislike for Noynoy, and his speech - or at least, the two minutes of it that I caught - illustrates why.

His speeches tend to revolve around a few things. He'll illustrate why he's best suited for the position, by talking about how he didn't plan on running for the presidency two years ago. He'll say he didn't plan to take on the monster that was a government riddled with corruption. Maybe he'll invoke the spirit of his mother, Cory Aquino, the woman in the middle of the first People Power revolution in 1986, the one that kicked out Ferdinand Marcos from a two-decade dictatorship and restored democracy. After all, it was after her death when all eyes went on Noynoy - and, just like that, he became a viable successor to Gloria Arroyo.

By "viable successor" I don't mean someone who will continue PGMA's not-so-stellar run. Sure, in the nine years before Noynoy, the Philippines saw economic growth - I don't think anybody can fudge with the figures the authorities have been supplying every quarter. Our GDP is growing comfortably, for one. The problem is, of course, that not everybody benefits from this growth. The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer, or so the cliché goes. And some government officials get more powerful, not the least of which is Arroyo herself, who was linked to several political scandals, almost all of them involving corruption. Either she pocketed funds from certain government agencies, or her husband did, or her closest allies did. Most damning of all, she was accused of stealing the elections in 2004 - a charge that still isn't resolved, long after her main rival, actor Fernando Poe, Jr., passed away.

Noynoy ran with the premise of being completely different from PGMA. Or so his party claimed. The Liberal Party initially wanted to field Mar Roxas, but then they realized that he never had a chance of winning, so they decided to ride the public wave of sympathy surrounding Cory's death. Noynoy became their presidential candidate, and won an overwhelming majority. Roxas gave way, decided to run for vice president, and still lost anyway.

In my mind, these circumstances didn't make Noynoy the right guy to take charge of our country. He came here because he managed to hit the Filipinos in the gut. Nako, mabait si Cory, sigurado mabait din si Noynoy. It makes sense, but it doesn't hold much weight. But I decided to give him a year.

To Noynoy's credit, that one year saw the political arena be a little more peaceful. Maybe we're still getting to grips with somebody else in charge after almost a decade of PGMA, but it's nice to see the newscasts discuss how much support the controversial reproductive health bill will garner from Congress as opposed to who's filing an impeachment complain when. Then again, "peaceful" doesn't exactly mean "quiet": one kind of noise gave way to another, and that was Noynoy getting to grips with him being in charge. It was very, very noisy.

He isn't the most experienced politician ever. No biggie, you'd say. It means he's untarnished, unlike that Arroyo bitch. And yes, it's fine for him to surround himself with his closest associates - to paraphrase him, you'd want people in the same wavelength as you to work with you. But in many instances it seems he's relying more on his associates than on his judgement, which I'm sure he has. And, recently, there's been some noise about the people he's put in position - his friends and schoolmates and shooting buddies, who are not always the best people for the job. The DILG's Rico Puno was in the hot seat during the Manila hostage crisis in August. The LTO's Virginia Torres was in the hot seat when allegations corruption in her agency surfaced. His response to these and others: "I stand by them," and "kasi naman kayo, mga taga-media, puro bad news ang gusto ninyong i-report."

But what else is there to report? I don't expect Noynoy to instigate many changes in his first year in office. He did say that he's thinking of more long-term solutions to our issues, and I respect that. But it never seemed that way. You don't see him talking about these solutions - all he talks about are the same old things. I'm different from PGMA. Unlike her, I'm genuinely concerned for all of you. Unlike her, I won't steal money from our coffers - why would I? I didn't want to run in the first place, but you wanted me here, so I don't really have much of a choice now, right? Anyway, that should be enough. She's gone. I'm here now. It's all fine.

Repeated, ad infinitum.

Oh, right, there's his constant flouting of the daang matuwid line, perhaps the most succinct way of putting everything I just wrote in italics a couple of paragraphs back. "Narito na tayo sa daang matuwid," he'd say, often, like he's still in the campaign trail - it is his election slogan, after all - and not like he's actually the president now. It seems that he's convinced that his mere presence makes everything better.

Sure, he's justified in doing that. When he assumed office it seems everybody was more confident about our country's chances. But it's been a year, and right now he should start working - no, he should already have a few things on his mind - no, a lot of them. He shouldn't just be thinking of them. He should be doing them. Instead, all he does is communicate the same old things, over and over again. Call himself a gift from heaven. Call his predecessor evil incarnate. Say that things are going to be just fine. You'll hear those words in the news, pretty much everyday, in between rising prices, "world news" and rumors of whoever the president is dating nowadays.

The honeymoon period has long passed, although Noynoy is lucky his trust ratings - which he says isn't important to him - are still higher compared to other presidents. But all he's done in the past year is revel in what he just did, which is pretty much what today's speech is all about. What has he accomplished? He became president.

Hopefully by now he knows that his position isn't a nuisance but a privilege. Not a privilege, but a massive responsibility, especially considering we are a country who thinks dole-outs is the best way to help the poor.

Hopefully by now he knows that the cult of personality surrounding him isn't enough to sustain change in the country. Being an Aquino isn't enough to effect long overdue change in this country, the same way being an Arroyo isn't enough to make you run for the hills. It's being a hard worker, a dedicated worker, a smart worker, one who's willing to sacrifice his love life, his third-hand Porsche and his privacy to make the most of his time.

Hopefully by now he knows that he only has five years left, and he has to stop focusing on communicating the same old clueless rhetoric, and actually start doing something, so that when he decides to deliver another Ulat sa Bayan - different from his State of the Nation Address, I must note - it won't be the same old tripe we've heard him say during the campaigns, but instead, it would actually be something substantial.

Hopefully by now he knows that he cannot make a fool of the Filipino people - the very thing he's accusing his predecessor of doing, and the very thing he's doing right now. The same thing happened nine years ago. We kicked out a corrupt president, we thought everything will get better, and then, we're here again. We kicked out a corrupt president. We think everything will get better.

The difference is, I believe - I sincerely believe - that Noynoy is not capable of being corrupt. I just hope he is also not capable of being a lame duck.

Sir, it's time to go home and get to work.

This blog entry was supposed to be all about me being such a complaining old git.

I was reorganizing my links area (again) early this week and noticed that more people were blogging on Tumblr. All fine and good, except that I've seen my sister browse through her dashboard, often to amuse herself at what the people she follows have reblogged. I've taken a look sometimes, especially when she starts to laugh annoyingly, and all I see are reblogs. And more reblogs.

So, I thought, Tumblr isn't a blogging platform - it's just full of reblogs. Sure, there are the people who actually blog something, else there wouldn't be reblogs - but pretty much all of the content an ordinary user would see on the site is copied and pasted (okay, clicked, it's easier) from somewhere else.

"I started to get irked when I realized there was no self-reflection or self-production at all," Asia said.

"Amen," I answered. "It's blogging for lazy people. Very lazy people."

"I miss LJ days. Pa-spoil na pa-spoil yung generation."

"It only pays to be witty now, not creative. If you can retweet, why bother to think?"

"Yeah, true. 'Creativity' requires a bigger venue than here, no? Ewan, bakit ba kasi nagka-Tumblr. I sound like a grumpy lady."

"You're not alone. Also, it's much more complicated socially. Being 'creative' means a lot of things now, status-wise."

"Hindi lang kasi tayo Tumblr generation."

"Eh mga contemporaries natin, ganun."

To further prove that I sound like a complaining old git, I decided that I'm also a bit peeved at Facebook's like function. Sure, there are good intentions behind it: if you agree with what's said but you can't really add to the conversation, then just click on "like" and everything's fine. But people now tend to just click on "like" and nothing more. Or maybe it's me and my bruised ego, expecting people to answer when I've stirred some debate, only to see three likes.

And to make things worse, I'm actually part of my problem. I like something when I can't add anything substantial. Maybe I like too much, but I'm not like other people who like everything. (The latest Lola Techie ad: "like, like, like, like!") (Also, I know "like" is a verb, but not this kind of verb. Writing those sentences feel weird.) And I also retweet. "Does Bong Revilla believe anything that he says in his AMA commercial?" Jayvee asked. I agreed. I can't add anything. I retweeted. I'm not just a complaining old git. I'm a hypocrite.

I know getting retweeted makes for a good feeling. At least I make sense to someone, you'd say. So much, that she can't add anything to it. Maybe that's why people love posting inspirational crap on Twitter. You know, little nuggets of life wisdom that sounds more patronizing than inspiring - or maybe it's just me being cynical. Over the past few weeks I've seen one such tweet make the rounds of my timeline, and really, it makes a lot of sense. "Girls are like Barbie dolls," the thought goes. "You can play with them, you can dispose of them, but remember, real men don't play Barbie dolls."

Well, logically, it does make sense, but the punchline - that real men don't play with dolls - is painfully sexist, if not homophobic. But fine, surely the intentions behind it were good. The old git in me was irked to see that retweeted in three different days, by three (technically four) different girls, from three different sources. Goodbye, originality.

And then the old git in me decided that the issue is not attribution, but the idea itself. I've seen people tweet (retweet, actually) this many times before. Ladies, you deserve better. All the men out there are motherfuckers ready to use you and break your heart. Said differently in every instance, but the end thought is still the same: all of the men in the world will just break your heart, so, up yours!

Because we are the bad people, blah, blah, blah.

And you are much better than we are, blah, blah, blah.

I won't deny it. Men are capable of terrible things. I've seen men cheat on their girlfriends. I've seen men insult their girlfriends. I've not seen men abuse their girlfriends, although I'm more than sure it happens. It happens to wives, and girls who have not exactly said yes yet. We have broken your hearts. We get it.

But I've seen women cheat on their boyfriends. I've seen women insult their boyfriends. I've not seen women abuse their boyfriends - it's a fucking laughable idea, you'll say, I bet - but I'm quite sure it happens. It happens to husbands, and guys who have not exactly said yes yet. But since females are the more nurturing sex, and males are the more domineering sex, then logic states that we will hurt the weak people, the ones who cannot defend themselves, and have no choice but to submit.

"Are we always the bad ones? You can break our hearts and get away with it? Boo."

"True, but you guys just aren't so vocal about it," Janelle agreed.

Maybe I was being a complaining old git about the wrong things all along.

The catch is, you tend to take things personally. Very personally.

See, you've made the perfect situation for yourself. Everything has, for some reason, fallen into place, and you believe - you genuinely believe - that all of this is what you need to keep yourself afloat. Nothing can take it away from you.

And then, somewhere along the way, it falls apart, and you feel like the world is pretty much going against you. Oh, damn it. Won't you give me this one time? Just this one time?

It's funny, how you take these things personally. It's that mix of awkwardness and anger. Actually, you're not angry. Maybe disappointment is more like it. But you don't really have the right to be disappointed. You see, nobody really owes you anything. It wasn't like it's critical. It wasn't like it's an earth-shaking thing, like that so-called Rapture that quickly became a pop culture buzzword. It's just you, latching your hopes on one thing, and one thing alone. The perfect situation for yourself. Nothing can go wrong. Nothing can take it away from you.

Still, nobody's stopping you from being disappointed - being genuinely disappointed, although that doesn't really cut it, because, of course, it's a mix, a confusing mix. Anyway, nobody's stopping you from being disappointed, so you start thinking, well, I didn't fuck this one up. You did. But you know that your logic doesn't carry much weight. But, what the heck, you prefer to feel disappointed. It happens. It's just you, latching your hopes on one thing, and one thing alone. The perfect situation for yourself. Nothing can go wrong. Nothing can take it away from you.

Then again, you never really had it in the first place. And you know that. You know that very well.

I hate it when I tell myself that I will not do the same mistakes that I did before. It's happened to me too many times. It goes well for a while, and then reality hits you - preferably kicks you in the ass, but that's me being filthy - and you realize that, all along, you're being delusional. I say I'm just lonely and desperate, but really, I'm just delusional. And I'm falling down the rabbit hole again. I thought I already learned from my mistakes. Heck, I managed not to do those mistakes for so long now. And here I am again, falling.

I never thought I'd carry a relatively long conversation with Miss Diaz. I was never in her classes; we only crossed paths during thesis orientations, thesis readings and thesis defense. Oh, and during our college recognition rites, a few days before our graduation, when I went up on stage ("cum laude!") and received a sash from her. She received me enthusiastically. I think there was a hug, even.

But there I was, talking to her, in front of a cinema, catching up. I would've asked her about how she is, but I knew the conversation would be all about me. I was the graduate - the Latin honors meant the chances of her remembering me was a bit higher - and she'd be inevitably curious about what I do for a living now.

"So where do you work?" she asked me.

"At home," I said, stopping myself from elaborating. "I'm a writer for an America-based entertainment website..."

"That's good!" she said. I could tell she was genuinely happy for me. "At least it's still close to [communication] arts."

There I was, perhaps the most insecure person in that graduating batch, getting some affirmation from the chair of the Communication Department. But she had a point, though. At least I still write for a living. I still communicate to an audience, albeit one made up of snarky American Idol fanatics. Some of us work for banks. The way she sees it, I'm better off, as opposed to my own opinion of myself.

"The downside is," I said, "I'm stuck at home. I do the same things every single day. It's a routine worse than school."

"Grabe ka naman," she replied.

"Kaya nga I took this opportunity to go out," I said. "I was thinking of wearing my Doy shirt--"

"No, no, no," she said. I was joking. I presumed she knew that. We were both laughing, and then she asked me whether I saw Miss Sibayan. Now she was also never my professor, which makes me question my credentials as a communication arts graduate of DLSU.

We were attending the premiere night of Sir Doy's second independent film, Paglipad ng Anghel. I first heard of it when I was still a student. I think it was during his retirement party (the same reason why I have the Doy shirts) when a montage of his best works was screened. He wrote many screenplays in the 70s and 80s; he made his directorial debut with Pepot Artista, only in 2005. Paglipad ng Anghel was represented by a little clip of a man rushing to a church altar, with angel's wings shooting off his back, and obviously struggling.

It was a screenplay he hasn't had a chance of filming until now, when DLSU agreed to produce the film and give him free rein. He began writing it in 1997, inspired by a story he heard from a friend of his - you must've read about it in the newspapers in the past few weeks. More than a decade later, it's a completed project, and I was attending the premiere night.

I almost didn't make it, actually. I first got wind of the event from Jackie, who posted a newspaper article on Facebook. It's finally coming out, I thought. I knew they were producing the film as far as two years ago - when Kat and I watched Eclipse together we were talking about that (and Ale's pregnancy). I was wondering what happened to it; last I heard it was set for an August release, but I'm not sure what happened in between.

Kat, of course, worked on the film. Inevitably the production would involve Lasallians in every aspect: apart from the fact that it topbills Sid Lucero (from CSB) and LJ Moreno (from the CED graduate program) most of the people behind the scenes were alumni. Kat, I think, was the production manager. Misha did art direction. Piyar, Neil, Maui, Malia - I didn't have to convince myself that I would watch. It's, more or less, a CAM105 production!

Catch was, tickets were only available on campus, and since I couldn't just go there, I scrambled to have someone buy them for me. Ale's brother is a DLSU student, so she offered to have him buy me tickets. But nothing came out of it, so I almost gave up any chance of watching the film - until Carmel called me the following day, saying she got me a complimentary ticket. I should've told her I owe her one.

Yes, a complimentary ticket. As if it's not enough to feel bad about not having to pay anything - all proceeds from the film will go to the One La Salle fund - it felt weird having to fall in line first. I was at the balcony. A few rows away from me were luminaries: Joey Reyes, Manny Castañeda, Mike Enriquez, Ricky Davao, Anita Linda, Norman Loteria. Then again, I should have prepared myself for it. It's the premiere. Some names will surface. And then, you've been to many premieres in your life. Nothing new.

There's one way to deal with these things: stick to the people that you know. Me, I've never really attempt to mingle with celebrities, unless circumstance tells me to. All I wanted was to catch up with some classmates and drop a word with Sir Doy. I was his student, after all. What I know about writing screenplays, I owe to him.

The thing with film premieres is, you see a lot of people around you, and not most of them are invited to the affair. Celebrity spotters. When the film ended there were a lot of people in front of the cinema entrance, perhaps waiting for a glimpse of Sid Lucero, member of the Eigenmann acting clan. That's for who I call "mere civilians". The Lasallian alumni - the Communication Department alumni - gathered around Mang Norms instead, asking to take photos of him.

He only had a bit role - he was an albularyo who scampered away after seeing an apparition from Joel Torre (si Andres, lumilipad!) convincing Sid's character, Gabby, to heal his sick cousin Dinay. Of course, us folks who know him as the grumpy guy operating the editing bay (or the equipment room, depending on the time frame) found it cool. "Si Mang Norms, artista na!" we'd exclaim. His name appeared in the credits and there was a louder-than-usual applause from the audience.

"Nakatulong ang pagiging kalbo ko," he quipped before the screening.

Sir Doy, on the other hand, was overwhelmed by well wishers. He hasn't really changed. He spoke to the audience before the screening, and he sounded like the teacher who gave away whatever he found in his house during film writing class - his last term as a full-time DLSU professor. He was insightful yet jolly. "Ang ilan sa inyo, nakikita ko, kumakain ng popcorn," he said. "Now, kung klase ko 'to, pagbabawalan ko kayo, but go ahead."

I managed to shake his hand a full thirty minutes after the film ended. I wanted to talk to him, but no words were exchanged. I wasn't sure if he recognized me. I'd like to think there were just a lot of well-wishers.

The rest of my post-premiere time, I spent standing around. Yes, I had classmates, but since they're part of the crew I expected them to run things their own way. Kat and Ale were there, and so was (Cinemalaya filmmaker - yes, really) Misha, and Piyar, and on-set "lovebirds" Neil and Maui. Of course, I was the outsider, standing around, laughing along - the difference was, I was a bit explicit with the fact that I was just, well, standing around.

"Well, that's what we do," Kat said. "Stand around."

They were actually waiting for Sid to come out of the theater. The younger members of the crew wanted a photo with him, and they waited quite a while, since the celebrity spotters just swarmed around him, with photo requests and signature requests and whatnot. He was almost on his way out when Maui managed to negotiate a photo op with his group. Sid quickly went bonkers, for lack of a better term.

"My girls!" he said. "How could I say no?"

He then proceeded to give the girls a smooch. And then he attempted to lick Neil's cheek. Inevitably, I ended up taking the photograph, further exasperating my mother, who was dismayed I didn't have a photo of myself from that night. Well, she doesn't know I was in another photograph, with the crew, and actress (and batchmate - we apparently share a lot of common friends) Steph Henares. ("Kasama ba ako?" I asked. "Oo!" she said, before setting up the shot.) Also, the fact that I was just supposed to stand around, like all the journalists and the fans and the well-wishers, waiting for a chance to say hi.

She has been gone for two weeks now.

I knew it would happen. In the few times we talked, she told me this much. "My life hangs on this," she said, more or less. "If I don't get this, I don't know what to do. Oh, please, can't they just tell me I'm not getting it?"

"What if you do?" I told her. "That'd be one hell of a new chance."

"Yeah," she said. "That'd be very, very fun. And then I'd invite you out and we'd hang out."

"That's impossible. Well, more or less impossible."

And then it happens. Funny thing is, I didn't really realize that it's happening until it did. We were even talking a few days ago, and then I got busy with a few things, and then it was over. I saw some signs. I knew I had to talk sense into her again, pretty much what I've been doing those past few weeks, but I knew I should let her be for a while. It happened before. She should be back.

She hasn't been back.

It's been two weeks. I remember sending a bunch of emails, not knowing it's going nowhere - I'm that slow - and then I stopped sending emails, and I find it a bit difficult, since there are so many stories I want to tell, stories that only she would get. I guess that's what I missed the most about her. She gets it.

So, yes, I should let her be for a while. And she should be back. But one of the things I hate the most is watching something or someone fade away. I can cut ties, but I can't let something fade away. Either it's forever or it's gone now. I'm a bit black-and-white that way. And then, there's a breaking point. You can only wait for so long.

Today, I tossed an email. I told her that, yes, I should let her be, but there's just this one story that I had to tell her. And to boot, I sent it to a different email address, since she has six and they all confuse me.

I got an automatic reply.

"Reach me at my other email address. Perhaps I may reply, if you are lucky."

I gave up.