the latebloomer

"The God of Silence beckons me, to journey to my heart where he awaits me."

These are my favorite lines from a Bukas Palad song ive been listening to frequently the past few days.

Somehow, the Valentine’s season takes on a different meaning for me this year. While others are planning where they will go on Feb.14 with their partners or their friends, I’ve already spent my Valentines more than a week before the occasion.

I attended my first ever retreat last weekend. I think every person goes through different stages, different phases in which he or she becomes a better person or at least be closer to who they want to be as a person. This year, I’ve decided to move one step closer to God. Now, more than ever, "spiritual renewal" has never been more important to me as a personal objective.

But I’m not there yet, I’ve set myself out for a long journey, a more arduous struggle. It’s no easy trying to find God, because usually that means finding yourself first and facing who you really are. Nevertheless, the experience is amazing.

And in the Valentine’s season i am making a regular date with my Creator. Love for one’s partner, or for one’s friend, or for one’s own family, workmates, relatives, among others all emanates from love of God and oneself.

Lest I make the wrong impression, I still have to say I’m in no raising-of-the-hands mode. I have never considered myself religious, I don’t think I ever will. I’d rather be deeply spiritual. After all we’re all creatures given with the gift of the spirit - the kind of state that for me defines human existence and is experienced and shared regardless of religious affiliation, social class or race. Finding one’s spirit for me is a task one cannot avoid in life. Whatever bends and forks you encounter, you will always arrive at a part of the road that would ask you who you are, where you are, and what you are doing here.

The God of Silence song reminds me of that. And also the song Pagbabalik. For I think the most comforting thing in life is the fact that I can always go back home, to return to His embrace, that no matter how dirty I’ve become, once I lay down my cards and surrender, I can still be clean again.

That finding one’s spirit also means standing up and fighting for what is right, that love and justice cannot coexist separately, and that selfless love is the greatest thing man can achieve.

So am i closer to that? Hopefully.

Hopefully still we can arrive at the same time.

The First Moment

Marie was a fortunate girl. She was born to an upper-class family. She was able to study and graduate at a prestigious university. Sometime in her 20th year, she has never felt so alive. She was raring to go to work for a multinational company in two weeks time. The more beautiful thing is, she has found her love. And they were due to get married within the next two years.

Marie’s life seemed complete. Except probably for her faith. Marie grew up in a family of conservative and religious members of the community. She learned to pray the rosary at age 5 and was a choir member at age 9. But somehow, she has never felt closed to God. The idea of a higher being seemed distant to her.

She’s not even sure if angels are real. When she was 12, she predicted that if an angel appeared before her one night at the foot of her bed, her life would never be the same. By 16, her prediction somewhat changed, hoping the angel that would appear to her would look like Piolo Pascual.

But the angel that appeared at the foot of her bed one night did not look like Piolo. Marie was not even sure if it was a boy or a girl. All she knew was that in an instant, amid the cold night, she felt this warmth followed by a radiant light emanating from nothing. And the next thing Marie saw was a person with wings looking calmly to her.

The angel spoke, "Don’t be afraid. I have arrived to send you great news."

For a few seconds, Marie couldn’t say a word. She thought she was dreaming, but then she remembered she hadn’t slept yet.

"Are you an angel?" Marie replied.

The whole encounter seemed to last for only a few minutes. But by the end of it, once the angel disappeared and the room went dark again, Marie sat on her bed frozen.

She felt that her whole life — everything she had planned for the rest of her life — went down the drain.

"I’m gonna be the mother of a saviour? How can that be?" Marie kept asking to herself.

The angel told her she would give birth to the son of God, a God she has viewed only as an abstraction, a God she was not sure existed. But then there’s the angel and she’s not hallucinating. "Or am I?" Marie asked in the dark.

Fear and confusion crept inside her. But somehow, she was amazed at herself. "Is it really me who said that?" Marie thought when she remembered what she uttered before the angel disappeared. "I will submit to God’s will" Marie repeated her words.

The Second Moment

Yousef knew Marie was the girl she was meant to marry. He has always laughed at the concept of love at first sight, not knowing that he would experience it a few days before graduation.

Yousef also knew that his life would be an uphill climb the minute he professed his affection for Marie. Yousef’s family was middle-class. Though half-Arab, Yousef was born Catholic. Nevertheless, Marie’s parents disapproved of him. Had it not been for Marie’s insistence and the recent success of Yousef’s family business, theirs would have been a tale of Romeo and Juliet.

But like villains in a play, Marie’s parents were just waiting for a moment to cancel their daughter’s march to the aisle.

The time came when Marie told them the news. Marie’s parents heard and remembered everything, except the angel. Suddenly unmindful of any Catholic sacraments, Marie’s parents laid down their ultimatum. Marie gasped and wailed. She was told only two choices: the child will be born if Marie severed her ties with Yousef, otherwise the child must die.

The Third Moment

Yousef felt as if he was buried alive. Marie told them about the angel and its news. Unlike Marie, Yousef had a strong faith in God. He believed in angels.

But in an instant, he felt like a fragile human soul. He felt dazed and unbelieving at the prospect of divine intervention. He began to worry about what people would say about Marie and him. He began to ponder of breaking up with Marie, fearing that people would think they had premarital sex. Then he thought of staying with her, fearing just the same that people might think Marie had a tryst with another guy. HIs actions would have repercussions to other Arab people in the community who continue to receive prejudice from neighbors.

But Marie did not remember him saying all these things to her. She only remembered Yousef telling her how much he loved her and how much he’s excited with their baby sent by God.

Yousef went home feeling empty. Then later in the night, the same angel appeared to Yousef. Like a douse of cold water, Yousef realized his role in God’s plan. And he needed to do everything to play his role well.

The Fourth Moment

Yousef became the only one Marie relied on for support. She was on the brink of a nervous breakdown, almost thinking of ending her misery and her baby as well.

Every night, the couple prayed. Marie fought hard to remember what the angel said and how she felt at that instant when she submitted to a will not her own. That total surrender, the feeling of floating into space and being carried by strong arms towards somewhere only happiness exists. The certain feeling of hope and serenity.

She needed to remind herself to be strong. She and Yousef are homeless. Their only possessions are their clothes. She is more than eight months pregnant. She and Yousef went from house to house, from one friend to another to seek shelter. Through it all, the night remained starry, the air remained fresh, as if preparing for the arrival of a king.

The Fifth Moment

Clarita is 64 years old. Her husband left her for another woman forty years ago. They had six children. She took almost every job imaginable, except sell her flesh, just so she can send her six children to school.

She can just smile at her achievements. Her eldest became a doctor and was working at a private hospital in the city. Her two daughters became lawyers. Her second eldest son was a military officer. While her two youngest became engineers working abroad. All had families. All had left her. Not even a single birthday card arrived at her house since her children left.

Three stray cats were all the company she had in her tiny house. On one corner of her bedroom laid a box full of old photographs, broken toys, reaction papers and other mementos reminding her that she was once a mother.

She would look at these things every night. On one such night, she heard a knock on her front door.

Within a week, Clarita was swept with joy. For the first time, she felt as if she saw her first grandchild.

The Sixth Moment

"You have guests. They want to see your baby," Clarita said to the couple one Sunday morning.

Marie and Yousef stood frozen. Who could it be? Their families? What would they do? Take away their baby, send Yousef to jail and Marie to the convent?

Fortunately, the guests were not their parents or in-laws. They were not even wearing conventional attire.

Three magicians entered Clarita’s house. They had gifts for the baby. They were followed by a group of gypsies, and a group of farmers. The gypsies sang lullabyes while the farmers gave the couple a month’s bounty of food.

"We followed the star. We heard the good news," the guests chorused.

The Seventh Moment

How mistaken she was. Twelve years ago, Marie thought her life was going down the drain when she heard the angel’s news. But now, while looking at her son helping Yousef in the junkshop, she realized what went down the drain was her self-doubt, her insecurities, her anger. She need not see God, she is seeing God in her son.

If there was a feeling left along with happiness, it’s fear. "He is not my own. I am just a vessel. My child is God’s child. And one day I have to let him go," Marie said to herself…

…Marie’s hands were covered in blood. Her hair was full of spit from the crowd that gathered that afternoon for the execution. She held her son in her arms, gazing at his lifeless body one last time. She kissed his son’s forehead. Then a group of armed men took his son’s body away.

With weakened knees, Marie struggled to stand. She was helped by another woman and a young man, among the few who stood by his son when everyone else turned their backs.

She knew from then on everything will change. Because everyone was saved.

this past week, ive had one more reason to stay up late. ive been following the 15th Asian Games in Doha, Qatar. not really a sporty person, but i like watching these kinds of sporting events that come only once every four years.

most probably like everyone else aware of the 15th Asiad, ive been praying and rooting for Team Philippines to nail that elusive gold. For the first five days, sadly, we weren’t able to win even a bronze medal. We were defending bronze medallists in the men’s trap event in shooting, and in the double sculls event in rowing, but a more improved foreign competition and lack of foreign exposure and adjustment on the unpredictable Qatari waters bumped our shooters and rowers from the medal positions, respectively.

the most disappointing thing so far has been our bowlers. not that i fault them for finishing not higher than fifth in any of the first four categories that have been completed, but it pains me to think that lady luck was not our side this year. Malaysia has already three golds, and South Korea two golds (out of seven medals already won), while our world-class bowlers got the wrong end of the Qatar organizers’ decision to limit the number of blocks to be played from the usual 12 to only 6. and i think this did the damage to Team Philippines. i think they weren’t able to adjust to a quicker mode of competition. with only six blocks, you have to hit your rhythm on the very first throw, or else there’s no way you can catch up. Team South Korea and Team Malaysia were very lucky, as well as the West Asian teams. Malaysia’s Mei Lan Esther Cheah was on the background during bowling competitions in the 2005 SEA Games held in Manila. but in Qatar, she was the star, winning the gold in the singles and powering her team to the trios silver and team of five gold.
still, im sure our bowlers did their best given the circumstance, and nothing can take away the fact that we have three former world champions and upcoming talents.

Luckily for Team Philippines, the boxers and taekwondo jins saved the day. Violito Payla gave RP its first assurance of a medal last Wednesday, while Veronico Domingo and Kathleen Alora gave the first two bronzes which finally put our country on the medal tally after six days. Yesterday, Mary Antoinette Rivero (probably our best chance for an Olympic medal come Beijing) gave RP its first silver in the 15th Asiad, losing unsurprisingly to a tougher Korean opponent, which i think was the gold medalist in the Athens Olympics.

by 1 a.m. today (8 p.m. Doha time), our boxers assured a fourth bronze medal for RP, while Antonio Gabica battles for our first gold in the 8-ball singles of billiards. Busad Asiad bronze medalist Tshomlee Go meanwhile improved on his performance as he defeated a highly-fancied opponent from Taiwan to reach the finals, where he nailed the country’s second silver in the Asian Games.

right now, im anticipating Gabica’s match, hopefully he beats his Japanese opponent and finally make our country proud and land our first gold in the 15th Asiad.

which leads me to what i want to point out. how a country performs in international sporting competitions like the Asian Games usually reflects on the level of development its people has attained. this is different from the kind of development our officials are trying to picture to us, citizens, and most importantly to creditors.

it should not come as a surprise that we are barely in the top 20 of the medal standings in the ongoing Asian Games. we should stop rolling our eyes on our athletes, and expecting them to win gold when their best performances are way behind counterparts in China, Korea, Japan, Central Asian countries and even Thailand and Malaysia.

our sports infrastructure is very much behind Asian powers and even our Southeast Asian neigbors. Vietnam has catch up with us and probably better since their government INVESTS on their athletes. this is the root of our ho-hum performance on the world sports stage. our government invests in athletes that have already won or winning, but shun those who are losing but with enough investment and support can be winners themselves. our officials give all these sorts of fiscal rewards for medal winners, when basic support in terms of allowance and trainings abroad remains lacking. rewards are ok, they are expected, but more funding must be given to our athletes.

and this involves stamping out on corruption, with the government enforcing an iron hand on erring and corrupt sports officials who prioritize their junkets and other "personal expenses" than the trainings of athletes.

thus, let us be reminded to give our athletes only accolades, and leave the criticisms solely on our sports officials shoulders whenever we face a debacle like the one were having and hopefully will about to end in our campaign in the 15th Asian Games.

it’s 11 am, and im nowhere near getting started on my outline for a paper due today. but here i am blogging in friendster ’cause i just need to release my thoughts for a while.

these past few days made me realize how different assumption is from instinct. yung tipong akala mo tama hinala mo about this person and about the situation, then malalaman mo na lang na mali pala akala mo.

sometimes you get ahead of yourself and judge someone, something or some event, thinking that its your instinct that’s feeding that judgment, only to discover in the end that it was just your assumption, your bias, your weakness.

but i feel good because someone was honest enough today to slap my ego and wake me up. weird, but it feels good. it makes life really worthwhile. The beauty of being honest, direct and real, even if its awkward or painful or annoying to the bones, is that it makes you feel alive, reminds you that you have blood on your veins and a heart that aspires for something worthwhile. and your mind does not complain either. it somehow stimulates things, it makes you feel.

There, ive said it. Now, rushing a paper is a different thing. Haaay…

first of all, don’t get me wrong, im just saying how i feel about the news that Saddam has been sentenced to death.

for those who haven’t heard the news (or care about it), its not about allegations that he kept weapons of mass destruction in Iraq (the main reason why the US invaded the country and ousted his regime in 2003, remember?)

Saddam was sentenced for the 1982 killings of about 150 Iraqis belonging to the Shiite minority. In his defense, Saddam pointed out it was not a crime since the Iraqi court during that time (which he controlled) since the 150 Shiites were found to have conspired in trying to assassinate Saddam.

Reports of Saddam’s torture of Shiites and Kurds have been going for decades, and helped paint a picture of Saddam as a dictator. While his dictatorial nature is hardly contested, it came as no surprise that several pockets of Iraqi society, belonging to the Sunni majority, cried and were disappointed to the verdict, accusing the present Iraqi court as bowing to US pressure.

Critics could not help but link the death verdict to the US congressional elections, which Bush and his Republican army is losing ground because of various allegations.

The fact remains that the present Iraqi government, despite notions of democracy, is basically a US-backed regime, and it is certain that Saddam’s death sentence won’t end in a peaceful Iraq. Certainly, this will lead to more violence and more insistence by the US to keep its troops in Iraq.

When i heard the news it was not really a surprise but somehow it felt as if Saddam shouldn’t have been the first dictator to be sentenced to death. For one, dictatorial regimes remain like in Burma and militia-controlled areas in Africa. It could have been a more fair trial if it had been under an international court.

Iraq in itself has been deeply divided because of foreign intervention. The aspirations of the Iraqi people has been lost in the "war against terror" which is nothing more but the US attempt to expand its military and geopolitical influence in the world and maintain its position as the lone superpower. Reports have come out describing how most Iraqis feel less safer in their own land now than during the time of Saddam.

And coupled with other conflict areas in West Asia and Israel’s continually aggressive role, a World War III coming from this region may be unavoidable, especially since the US would want it in the first place to feed its war economy. 

this is the first blog entry im making while at the office, so i have to type this quickly.

anyway, these past days ive been imagining a world filled with flying evil spirits and some good spirits to balance it off. this exorcist priest Fr.Jose Syquia said in an article that evil spirits surround us every day, just waiting for a person with a weak soul they can possess. he even quoted padre pio (if memory serves me right) that if one can only see evil spirits, he/she would see a lot that these would darken the sky. kinda creepy at first thought.

if the film "city of angels" was based on facts, then you would really have a dark world immersed with angels in black trench coats fighting it out with evil spirits who look like those in Harry Potter 3 Prisoner of Azkaban (ano nga ba uli yung mga yun? i should be ashamed for forgetting)

i think it makes sense somehow, whenever we suddenly feel sick to our stomach, or really bad that we can hack a person to death, maybe evil spirits are surrounding us not because our souls are weak but because we are succumbing to our human limitations, the stupidity of the human race, the shallowness of human nature.

which at the same time does not make sense, since being human also means being real. and which is which now? id like to think evil spirits that possess vulnerable people are not the ones we should fear but those elementals that possess you without the usual violent signs of convulsive attacks, those that possess people in higher office or moneyed people who are blinded by their power and glory that they easily succumb to the dark side and forget who they are in the first place, as creatures of God meant to do his Will.

ive always believed in prayer though i admit im not religious. but when we talk of evil spirits, we don’t have to see an exorcism, we just have to look at society and all the injustices it keeps.

just the same, i also think good spirits are roaming around us. able to swipe off darkness with feelings of hope, joy, bliss and love. sort of the messengers that take our prayers to the One above. in other words angels.

i have to meet this professor that one of my colleagues told me about. she claims this professor can see angels, what they look like and can even talk to them. hmmm, im kinda intrigued how my angel looks like if i ever have one. and what does my angel want to tell me? that i should cut down my worries and get enough sleep perhaps.

that’s all for now. my boss is near

Can’t get over this song by Brandi Carlile, first heard it on Episode 2 of Grey’s Anatomy’s second season.

though i don’t relate to the lyrics at this point in my life, i kinda felt the song when i heard it.

It’s like the kind of song you want to say to someone, or to some people or to life in general whenever you’re at the wrong end of things.

Especially the last line, "alone is the last place i wanted to be", the fear of being deserted or left alone on your own. eventually you realize that you have go through times of pain or displeasure cause after all it will make you a better person in the end.

What Can I Say?

Look to the clock on the wall,
Hands hardly moving at all.
Can’t stand the state that I’m in
Sometimes it feels like the walls closing in

How many rules can I break
How many lies can I make
How many roads can I turn
To find me a place where the bridge doesn’t burn

O Lord, what can I say?
I am so sad since you went away
Time time ticking on me
Alone is the last place I wanted to be
Lord, what can I say?

Oh Lord, what can I say?

By the way, I was able to watch this song’s video on youtube.com (thank God for this site) and it was kinda intriguing, it shows old, torn and lost umbrellas suddenly coming into life and literally coming together to form this huge bird-like creature made of old, torn and lost umbrellas that eventually flies towards the sky. maybe sending the idea that whenever you feel torn, lost or abandoned, you can always come back to life and soar in search of your place in the sky.

just got back from the cemetery. nanay died six years ago from colon cancer. everyone in the family has moved on probably except my tatay. but last night, as i was trying to get to sleep, i suddenly remember nanay, and how she was the most hardworking person i’ve ever seen.

she worked as a public school teacher for almost two decades, before she decided to take up library science at UP and be a full-time librarian at a private school in Novaliches. i would remember being in fifth-grade and waiting at the school gate since 730 pm for nanay to pick me up. there were a couple of times when i was the last pupil still waiting for his parent in school, to the point that the principal and her staff was already leaving (they were usually the last school officials to leave). i was so scared during these times i almost wet my shorts, but beyond it i knew nanay was getting late either because of traffic or because of her work.

funny, when she was still alive, i frequently had dreams where the story usually went like a telenovela - my role was a lost child, or one of the dirty kids roaming the streets but in my mind i knew i had a home but couldnt remember how to get there. and then i saw nanay and i would call her name, and approach her but she would just give me a blank stare or would not hear my calls, basically got the impression that she didn’t know me.

and then i would wake up, and see her busy at home either with laundry or cooking our lunch. and i would wake up feeling relieved that it was just a dream.

and then this morning, my tatay and I were praying the rosary over her grave. later on, we took out the flowers my tatay bought and plant each one around nanay’s grave. i couldn’t feel anything. probably coz i know she’s already in heaven, and while reciting the mysteries robotically, in my mind, there was only one thing i was asking to the Lord, that he continue to take care of my nanay in his Kingdom.

i admit, im not a practicing Catholic. i go to Mass irregularly, only when i feel like it, but i do know that there is an afterlife, and no matter how sinful you were, God knows you’re not really bad. and since God is love, He has already forgiven you even before you ask for forgiveness.

nanay was not perfect, she was human. she had her weaknesses, but all i could remember was her strength. nothing in this world can make me do her job as a parent, i can’t think right now of trying to care for five children since i even can’t take care of myself.

but while i was looking at her grave, i really couldn’t feel anything. miss her of course, but i know the grave just holds the bones and the other remains, but the spirit is already up there.

ive realized that as the years go by, you become less and less attached to the cemetery. the sense of pangungulila is still there, but you have moved on and have embraced the fact that when you’re talking of a departed relative, you look up, not think of the remains six feet under.

but i do believe that i still have to visit her there at least once a year, in case she comes down and visit her remains on earth.

these past years, death has become familiar, somewhat closer. aside from nanay, i remember people ive known and spoken with that have died. good thing they lived their life fully for us who remain behind to remember them as if they were still living.

going back to my thoughts last night, i wondered what if my mother never died. then she could have been at my graduation day, in the picture beside me and tatay. i could have given her my first paycheck, though small, and could have given her a birthday card for the first time. for a few seconds, bigla akong nagtampo kay Lord.

but maybe that’s just faith. i trust that the Lord has bigger plans for me and my family, the reason she took away the one woman we depend upon. nanay represented home, and after she’s gone, there had never been a home. there was still a family, we still love each other, but the person who had been uniting us is not there anymore. and we become our own platoon trying to coexist with each other.

but again, the Lord might have a different plan.   

i made a mistake. in one of my earlier posts, i commented on the PDI article about Jim Paredes "finally giving up on RP". i put in my thoughts without questioning the veracity of the article, as required by my journalistic background.

well, Jim Paredes has denied saying that he has given up on the country. how could he do that when he has proven his stance as a concerned artist many times over. he may not be militant or exactly progressive but at least his mind is not bend the other way around like so many artists are in a way.

later on my sister shared a piece of information she got after reading the blog of Iya Paredes (dunno if i got her name spelled correctly), the former MYX veejay whose also residing in Australia now. my sister said that Iya mentioned in her blog one of the reasons they migrated to Australia and it’s because her mother is terminally ill with cancer and might not live long. and Jim shared this tragic news when he and the other Apo members guested in Sharon Cuneta’s show.

i then realized that sometimes you have to set aside your grander goals in life just for a while in order to be with your immediate loved ones during times of hardship. my mother died of colon cancer when i was in my second year in college and i could understand how the Paredes family feels now with the fate that has befallen to their ‘ilaw ng tahanan’. but i could never imagine how painful it really is for Jim, to have his wife and life partner dying, like i saw in my tatay’s face even years after nanay had died.

i could only pray that greater strength would be given by God to any family facing a difficult time, to my family and to our relatives and families of our friends.

i am a die-hard reality show fan. ever since i got hooked on survivor, i follow almost every major reality show on TV, local or foreign. though hindi naman exactly lahat.

last week, rockstar supernova reached its finale and true to my hunch a guy contender got the job as lead vocalist of a band consisting of gilbey clarke, tommy lee and jason newstead. lukas rossi, dubbed as the "kid punk" from Toronto, Canada (the same city where JD Fortune, the Rockstar INXS winner, hails from) reigned over his closest rivals Dilana (South African-born US singer), Toby Rand (from Australia) and Magni (from Iceland).

i was disappointed for the first few seconds after Tommy Lee called Lukas to join the band, because i was rooting for Dilana. for me, she’s the greatest singer among the 15 contenders and has the most memorable and heart-rending performances. i voted for her twenty times through text in the hopes that a woman might take the rockstar title this time. but it was no avail, lukas reportedly got the highest number of votes and this alone swung Supernova to his favor.

but when lukas finally performed with Supernova, it became clear to me why the fans chose him over Dilana. though it was obvious lukas is not the strongest vocally, he blends well with the band and has enough star value to be at par with his more famous and experienced bandmates but not much to outshine them. i think Dilana’s already a true rockstar herself that she would be better off strumming her own band, and releasing her own songs.

by the way, Dilana’s composition in the contest, "SuperSoul" got me really into her even more. i wish i can have her cd real soon. though i like the other songs by Supernova which were played during the contest, such as "It’s All Love" sung by Magni but interpreted greatly just the same by Lukas.

when rockstar supernova ended, two reality shows began its run a few days later. Survivor Cook Islands premiered last Friday and unlike the past twelve seasons, the cast for Season 13 is more multi-racial precisely because the format this time is to divide 20 castaways into five groups based on tribe. "rarotonga" consists of white Americans, "puka puka" of Asian Americans, "manihiki" of African Americans, and "aitutaki" of Latinos.

now the interesting part here is that Pinoys are taking part in the contest and of course are members of puka puka tribe. jenny, 36, is a Chicago-born real estate agent who’s a former tv reporter for "Philippine News Reports", said to be the only Filipino-American news program in Chicago. brad, 29, is an L.A. based fashion director who can very well come in Manila and be a top-ranked commercial and ramp model. of the two, jenny is the most outspoken about her Filipino roots. brad looks like his being Filipino is not an issue or something to brag about, but i might be wrong.

the first episode was a thrill. puka puka won the first challenge, which was both for immunity and reward. jenny looks promising in the challenge and i got a hunch she’s gonna be a smarter player than brad and would go far in the contest.

i found this whole new format misleading at first. i thought there should have been more representation of minorities during the previous seasons, without resorting to an obvious format of social experimentation through the race card. but eventually i have to agree with host Jeff Probst that its still gonna be the same contest. in the end, people will root for whom they like regardless if they share the same race or not.

already i have my favorites: jenny, becky, sundra, parvati, ozzy and billy. of course this will change as more episodes are shown.

then there’s the Amazing Race which premiered just this morning. it returned to the old format of 12 teams, and fortunately, the 10th season cast is also multi-racial -including a Muslim team, an Indian-American team and a Korean team. It even has a dating pair whose one member has a bionic leg. though the cast still has the usual characters: the hunky team, the cheerleader and beauty queen teams, the gay couple, the couch potato parents, the blue-collar worker team, and the dating bickering couple. but the cast looks more promising than season 9 when you have only a couple of teams dominating the entire race (remember the hippies and the horny jocks?).

unsurprisingly and sadly, two of the minority teams are already out by the first leg. in an unprecedented twist, the first leg included an overnight hold, sort of a minor "pitstop" where the last team to arrive would immediately be eliminated. the first leg was in china, and the 12 teams have to race all the way from Seattle to hurdle the first set of clues and arrive at the Forbidden City where they had to pull one of three departure times. the last three to arrive at the spot interestingly were the minority teams, with the Muslim team unable to wrest the last departure time from the Korean team.

Bilal and Sa’eed were almost teary-eyed when host Phil Keoghan brought them the twist early in the game. They looked cheated but kept their composure and accepted their fate.

With the Muslim Americans eliminated, pressure was on for the Korean team and the Indian-American team who were the tailenders going into the heart of Beijing the following day. Erwin and Godwin were able to get in the middle of the pack by their sheer athleticism, greater hustling and improved navigation. Unfortunately for Vipul and Arti (who’s the most beautiful among the women, including the beauty queen team, their poor navigation worsened as they treat the streets of Beijing and by the time they’re about to climb one part of the Great Wall of China before the first pitstop, the other ten teams have already reached Phil and are on their way to the hotel preparing for the second leg.

for me this was unsurprising because somehow you get the funny feeling that the producers of the show would not have wanted minority teams (especially a Muslim team) to advance well into the show, since market demographics may still point to white Americans as the ones frequently watching the show. again i may be wrong, but its just really sad. it would have been more interesting to have less "white" people in the show especially the bickering ones since as a viewer im already tired of watching brashy Americans snapping at each other like mortal enemies. believe me, every season of the AR has at least a couple of bickering teams.

the only thing i look forward to with these two shows is to have the first Asian American winner of Survivor (hopefully Jenny) and an all-woman team in the final three in Amazing Race.

after all, life is bland without diversity.