Another normal component of classroom monkey business, though graver than those previously presented, is cheating. Another one is what Filipino's call "kodigo". Observed more thoroughly during quizzes than in exams, cheating transpires almost everyday. It has rather become a fashion in today's schools, more likely in high school and college. Kodigo, although still is a form of cheating, otherwise, slithers more in exams and is noted less likely during quizzes.
By the dictionary, cheating, in classroom setting, is to break rules to gain advantage. Meanwhile, kodigo in English is code, like Kodigo ni Maragtas (Code of Maragtas), yet in Filipino vocabulary, kodigo is a cheating device or paraphernalia, something written on paper, in chairs and sometimes on skin to be reminded of assumed-to-come-out facts. Let us take these two terms separately.
I would like to congratulate you if, all in your life, you have not cheated once. I cheated (let us focus in classroom view) and cheated a little more, and that made me a normal student---or so thought an acquaintance of mine. I am no angel, and what is wrong with that? I had constructed kodigos, nothing to be ashame of.
It has occured to me as to which of the two is more evil. Is cheating, that thing when you ask or clandestinely poke your classmate for the answer or when you sneakily look over your classmate's examination paper, graver than making kodigos? Or otherwise?
As for me, kodigo is more illegal. This dubious activity is solely confined to yourself (that is, selfishness), although sometimes it can proceed to the cheating proper, which makes it worse as committed is another illegal act. It is like taking an exam with open notes, thus erasing the real aim of the exam, that is to evaluate how much one has learned. The very feeling that you do the kodigo for yourself wields more guilt.
Cheating, on the other hand, is subtler than the previous one. It is a collaborative effort and the guilt is lighter, as you share all the blame once you are all caught. Some teachers do even understand why their students cheat, and I am afraid that they did the same matter back in their studentry years. They even go out of the classrooms to let the examinees have the time moment to cheat---I had proven that many times, a cheater I was! One thing more, cheating has become so rampant that it is has rather become so normal. It is everywhere!
For some, cheating is way to survival, especially to those deprived of the relative intelligence. There is even a humorous line that says "better cheat than to repeat". But for the highly cerebrals, who are purely competitive, it is a way of keeping up to the top that cheating is now viewed as more frequently done by the achievers. The truth is that almost everyone does, only these achievers are noticed and accused, and when they get that it is a sad thing because people think he is on top because merely of cheating.
I have always been an achiever as a student and had formally and officially known cheating when I stepped into high school. But it really does not mean that cheating is a sole way to get every subject aced, it is only an amplifier to achieving success. I can rely on my unaided intelligence but I know I can do more if I cheated.
I am not in any way writing this to promote cheating or the making of kodigos but to lay the these pillars of dishonesty that students are careening into in their everyday scholastic lives, and to examine which one is worse.
They say cheating is not bad, until you are caught. Our very own conscience will strive to bear searing thoughts, though, and even if we aren't caught, there is someone who always sees what we do. It is okay to cheat, but do not do it frequently for heaven's sake!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007 by Echos Erita apl.de.ap , billy crawford , cassie , celebrities , enrique iglesias , entertainment , movies , music , mutya buena , nicole scherzinger , rob schneider , vanessa hudgens , vanessa minnillo
Indeed, what runs in our blood is the burning flame spirit of courage, determination, fortitude, glory, intellect and talent. The Filipino force and excellence can’t be denied! From the prominent names who have had great contributions in the fields of entertainment, beauty, sports, among others, we cannot help but let pride sweep us. It is even said that Filipinos have already swarmed the world, from the classic domestic helpers to all-time big-times, just like these ones who made it to Hollywood. Let’s take a peek at them.
Typical that of rags-to-riches complex is Black Eyed Peas’ apl.de.ap (Allan Pineda Lindo). He was born to a Filipina and a U.S. serviceman stationed in Pampanga, Philippines, and the songs that he writes typically depict of his obstacles from the pitiable life in a farm in the Philippines to his dealing with obstacles, mainly culture shock, once moved to L.A. at age 14.
There is also Nicole Scherzinger, the lead eye-candy of the opulently vibrant Pussycat Dolls. Born in Hawaii to a Filipino father and Hawaiian/Russian mother, Nicole grew up with his Poland-born stepfather in Kentucky with her sister called Ke’ala. As a former member of American Popstars winners’ Eden Crush, Nicole has definitely got talent in singing and dancing.
And then there’s this teen role-model, who just recently may have tarnished her own image and Disney’s celebrated High School Musical by the leaking of her racy photos in the internet. But Vanessa Hudgens, of Irish-Filipino descent, still is the teenybopper heartthrob whom boys just love to love and girls just love to hate and envy. Still, she ranked seventh in Forbes list of "Young Hollywood’s Top-Earning Stars of 2006", sharing that of Daniel Radcliffe’s, Dakota Fanning’s and Lindsay Lohan’s rank space.
Yes, he can be every girl’s hero: with expressive eyes and sexy voice like that, who would resist Enrique Iglesia’s charming face? Born in Madrid to a successful Spanish singer of a father, Julio, and a beautiful Filipina socialite, Enrique is so proud of his being Filipino that he treasures his family so much and remains to be humble and approachable.
Billy Crawford has not only made name in Hollywood but also in Europe where his funky songs and electric dance maneuvers are a craze. Kudos to this Fil-Am!
Her beauty might as well have been one of those in Miss Universe 2007, but Vanessa Minnillo was already the bubbly host of that, and even regularly in MTV’s TRL. Born in the Philippines, Vanessa is a former Miss Teen USA.
From the multi-platinum English girl band Sugababes, Mutya Buena has made it all the way to being solo. This singer/songwriter shows her musical prowess as being a "Real Girl" and surely she takes pride of being a real Filipino, or half- that is.
If you had watched 2006’s Take the Lead and guessed that the character Ramos has Pinoy blood in him, you are right! Dante Basco might be a troubled high-school student in the act but he sure is a fine, cool guy.
He is Adam Sandler’s friend, his manager is his brother and his mom’s a Filipina, and with further clues such as The Animal, The Hot Chick and Deuce Bigalow you can’t be mistaken if you had thought of the hilariously crazy guy, Rob Schneider.
Sunday, September 23, 2007 by Echos Erita articles
If indolence and gambling are said to be legacies we have taken from the Spaniards, is it right to say we also have been bequeathed with the powerful art of gossiping? We can’t really figure out where it’s come from, but what’s certain is that most of us fancy spreading rumors, whether or not they are true, and we take delight in doing it. So I say it bluntly—we love rumors.
Confirmed or not, stories about celebrities make them praised or detested by the people; either way they get more famous, whether they like the manner they get a bit more of it or not. But in our own domain—school, office, workplace— no one is a real celebrity, only known persons, but not only are these known individuals the victims of rumors but also those that are not.
Why are we really fond of tittle-tattles anyway? Why when we are secretly told with foul news about the people around us our tongues couldn’t help but itch with desires to convey it to our other acquaintances? And why, in devil’s pleasure, do we like adding another layer to the story-cake and sometimes make our own versions too, and worst we just create stories?
I myself am a gossip, if not for a day at least once a week, and I would so much revel if you admit that you are, too. Not that I am inviting you to join forces with me but to merely count who’s in, and maybe, just maybe, to come up with a reliable demographics showing how many are there self-confessed blabbermouths. Does that make you wince? Then you are guilty.
Time and again, our ears tingle once we hear a tad of unverified rumors and we can’t wait to gather the whole, whole story. The teller says, "I will tell you provided you won’t tell it to anybody" and the gossip-hungry listener replies, "Promise!" only to know that the listener later becomes the teller, telling exactly the same dialogue as the original teller’s. Typical, isn’t it? And as the impeccable nature of message relay applies, the story is further furnished with irrelevant, self-made data. Bad and sad, but the saddest thing is that when who makes a whole-fool tale about whom and make others believe that it’s true.
Plainly and apparently, all these boil down to vindictiveness and malevolence; if not consciously, we unknowingly beget shame for the quarries of these hearsays or should we want it to, we cause far more than shame. Are we really that relentless to hurt the people in our surrounds? No, as we are likely to answer, but every day shows we still settle on to doing the same deeds. It only goes to show that we are glad to spread the detrimental news about our fellows. Whether the rumors are true or not, it is still injustice to find schadenfreude in strewing somebody’s misfortunes and misdemeanors. Neither the public nor private lives of other people are to be rummaged of flaws and take it against them, for all we know nobody’s perfect. It is unjust to judge these persons from what we have head from others.
Gossips teach lessons, however, for both the gossiper and the gossiped one; for the former it is best to contemplate what these rumors can do to the victim, that it can ruin their lives, or perhaps more than that, and for the latter it is most excellent to refrain from doing any mischief and probably shun every bit of it.
If we don’t want these gossips, we should at all times try our best not to wallow in the mud of embarrassing misdeeds. Rumors won’t fly by if they are not partly or fully true; this is somewhat factual. So if one will just carefully watch over his actions, then he can’t be a subject of disdain. And if he is definitely not transgressing, he can’t be accused guilty.
So watch over your deeds, and the rumormongers may as well watch over their tongues, for they will tire talking the talk unless it’s really a talk. Confusing? It’s because only the gossips can understand this at once, and I congratulate you for not being one. And if you’re sharing your intimate and top-private secrets, certify that the one you’re sharing it to is trustworthy and ensure that no one’s eavesdropping nearby. Does that help?
I never knew there existed a name such as Joseph “Erap” Ejercito Estrada (and I am quite certain that he too does not know whether a nasty, common name like Caesar Balatero exists, not until he reads this anyway) until it popped into politics several years ago as the colossal votes of the masses enthroned him into presidency. Young as I was then, I never cared too much about the ever-dirty affairs of the politics, as much as I did not possess the slightest idea what his classic films were. And I am quite sure, yet again, that he did not care about my growing up, nor had expected I would actually grow up at all. Still young as I am now (and he is getting much older) I do not have the slightest tinge of sympathy and remorse for him at his current fate. I never really had developed any love for him since I do not know when.
He comes from a wealthy and prominent family while I am from neither. His tag line then was “Erap para sa mahihirap” and he could have better had me as one of his beneficiaries, but too bad I was not. I thought that ought to make a prodigious change. He may be so damn richer than I but I am convinced I am more fearful of the laws of the land than he. He was an actor, and perhaps he was excellent at it, and I had only been to a stage play once, with a character that was almost as good as trifling. His places of living are in his mansions (pun intended) whereas I live in a hut-like house inhabited by scurrying mice and cockroaches. He is a father of which number I do not know, while, still, I do not know whether I can become a father come the time or would desire to be one; he is straight, I am gay, simply put, and just babysitting is but fine for me.
For the biggest part, he was the president of the Philippines, and I had only been a president in two organizations as far as my slightly oblivious memory would aid me. Yet he is rather less educated (and this would be the very first time I am sorry for him) and I confidently say I am more. Thanks to his political adviser/s who helped him dealt with international affairs, and also thanks to my past advisers who somehow planted in me this brand of boldness. His physique reminds me of a green, balloon-bellied, lucky charm frog figurine nipping a golden coin while I can only be reminded of my own stature of two things: a green lizard or the stick-like hangman. I am not sure how heavy he is physically; all I know is that I am emaciated and underweight but I have a perfectly fine gait anyway. I do not limp when I walk, and I do not babble almost incomprehensibly. He also has his fat mustache while I do not and I really wonder whether mustaches really ought to give extra pogi points. Picture-wise (above) he appears rather significantly laden with more than a handful of mundane concerns and worries, whereas adjacent to him is a guy whose snide smirk is as hell as sarcastic.
Now he is convicted with plunder and he must be grateful he is sentenced only that. In my coming years (that is, if they would), I will do well not to fall in similar situation and that if I built my many mansions I would take good care of each of them.
Perhaps, only a few things bind Erap and me in similarity, so few I thought they are negligible: he is a male, as well as I; his hair is black and so is mine; his family loves him so much, and mine to me; he eats thrice a day in the average, I eat the same; he micturates and defecates at his own will, and so do I, human as I am.
But the one greatest, undeniable thing that connects us is our both being Filipinos. Many Filipinos love Erap as much as most Filipinos do not. I am proud of being a Filipino, and he is too I guess, and that I love my countrymen. And from that, for the second time here, I feel sympathy for him.
He has already suffered much and I am not sure whether he deserves a pardon. Can’t he be forgiven? I always thought it is one of the virtues God taught us.
Anyway, I still look forward to the day Erap will be finally, fully freed, so that by then he can once again live his life in internal change (hopefully) and complete freedom, so that he will no longer be envious of my ever being so free. Or, at least, free to do good only…
Had he said, “’Wag ni’yo akong subukan!”? If he had, I guess I might have already crossed the line, have not I?
Meanwhile, to redeem this role-model here from her self-injected indecency, here are two videos of songs that will be in High School Musical 2's OST. Don't stare too much at the pic, rather listen to the songs and watch the videos, I suggest...
What Time is It? is in this week's No. 2 spot at M.I.T. (Myx International Top) 20 countdown, while You are the Music in Me holds the number one spot.
What Time Is It?
The next thing I knew was I woke up to find the table's flower vase fell to my face, almost breaking my nose. I woke with a start in the office's long couch. I was still all alone in the office just like it had been when I was encoding. My wristwatch told me that it was still 4:30 in the afternoon, same day. I felt for blood in my face but there was not any, there were only few broken edges of the ceramic vase. All in the room appeared undisturbed either. It was a dream, a nightmare, the worst I ever had. I tried to calm myself, tried not to worry lest my co-writers will breeze in and find me so perturbed. It was all dream, and that was all through now.
Waaa! What a turmoil that would be if that befell. Manny surely is a champ but I doubt that he can knock out our nation's every, seemingly never-ending, problem. And I am not complaining about his being Kapuso. What the hell do I care? I admit I take pride in his winning the boxing title (what weight?). That has so much brought the country the glory, but I still am comfortable at Jose Rizal as our National Hero, although some say he should not be because of a bit of his foreign ancestry. But pen is still mightier than sword or, in this very case, fist. And what has the one-two punches got to do with uplifting the country's current economic situation? If only Manny would be any more generous to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, or jab the corrupt officials straight in the face then I guess that would be the time I might think twice of his being our national hero. (Er, the thought itself jabs me by the jaw...) But yes, don't worry. He won't be the one, and will never ever be. To the one who made this picture, my salute to him! Nice spoof!
Sunday, September 16, 2007 by Echos Erita poems
(photo from: www.fan-story.com)
Albus and Argos
Behold! Its liberated ripples dancing friskily---
forming, reforming and uniting; disturbing
that glassy surface of shallowed depth
of mingled turquoise and coffee, oh how unlikely
must it be for Lucci---reclining, casting, sliver shedding.
And those pairs of ochre webbed feet are but revelling,
paddling remittently underneath as they meet vis-a-vis,
halting halfway that glassy surface of shallowed depth,
their wings outstretched, then curtailed, blood seething
and glide away again, taking pride of their pure color, silvery.
Green acquaintances, rainbow friends swaying forth and back
as spring's zephyr roams, its healthful blessing they sniff.
It passes and swerves and swirls and blows
light fanning to heads pool-submerged with knack
by their fine-feathered owners who hold their neck stiff.
On they glide heedlessly at their own leisure.
Each wake dabbled by pride, glory and self-love.
Yes they pass and swerve, swirl and blow
nasty air of no remorse, a threat to heaven azure
for they don't care what's below and who's above.
Lucci sheds herself more: attention is caught.
Almost blindingly, heads rotate, they stop in their track
Leafy friends and colorful neighbors they relax, they rejoice
for gone would be the days naughty-wrought,
although at once Albus retaliated with a deafening quack.
Yet Argos is rather stricken with scandalized look.
How could have a swan like him done that intriguing cry?
Leafy friends and colorful neighbors still they relax, they rejoice
for Lucci mends broken hearts by hook or by crook
and shall it fail it will try again, and try, and try.
Saturday, September 15, 2007 by Echos Erita humor
So while most people say them, here I have my own faint attempt of parody of (or stupidity that is) and giving more essential meaning to them and here they are (I really wished I could think more of them but my mind is kind of cluttered with many trivial things as of the moment, so if you can give me another famous saying or two, please do so):
They say: You don't know what you've got till it's gone.
They say: You don't miss the water till it's gone.
They say: Don't judge the book by its cover.
They say: Truth hurts.
I say: When your mouth is full, your tummy is dead hungry.
They say: Let the truth prevail.
I say: Let the liars' travail.
They say: Birds of the same feathers flock together.
I say: Birds of the same feathers are relatives.
They say: Aanhin pa ang damo kung patay na ang kabayo?
I say: Aanhin din ang damo kung 'di type ng kabayo?
They say: Tell me who your friends are and I tell you who you are.
I say: Tell me who your friends are so I'll know who your friends are.
They say: Dogs are man's best friend.
I say: Pussycats are men's very best friend.
They say: Cleanliness is next to godliness.
I say: Cleanliness is next to cleaners in the dictionary.
They say: Black is beautiful.
I say: Not all the time.
They say: Honesty is the best policy.
I say: Honesty is liars' worst enemy.
They say: Boys will be boys.
Oh yeah, that's it for now. When something like one of these occurs to me then I will just have to edit this post, and I could do with your generosity.
"Don't talk too much; the more you talk the more you endanger yourself." -- Caesar G. Balatero
Enter, dear visitors, but hey take heed
Unless you care, you cannot proceed
It is nothing but my humble blog
So drop your filthy shoes on the rug
Now you are clean, let us take the tour
Don't look for antiques for I am poor
What you will surely find out, instead
Are brilliant works of a witty head
Posted on this are my adventures
Whose beauty is at all exposures
As far as my cute eyes are concerned
They do nothing but make your hair burned
And my charming smile will melt your heart
It does magic too, it makes you smart
Alongside are poems so exquisite
Truly inspired and not obsolete
Or you can just sit back and relax
To savor some postings, not junk snacks
This will be my sort of diary
So read on, I'll update you daily
But that's if I'm online all the time
Then I can make all my postings prime
Now this genius brain has got to go
His sexy body's about to blow
(Free your dirty minds from malice, please
I'm not immoral and I don't striptease)
I know at this point you envy me
'Cause I'm enviable constantly
Almost perfect but not really quite
For my life is only black and white
Don't be surprise, or worse, don't you fret
Don't get me wrong, don't misinterpret
This is Zang and I am from Tagum
Welcoming y'all to my asylum.