Well, here we go again. Another radio station launch. This time, it’s U92, a pop station taking over the frequency that, as of this writing, is being held by “smooth variety” station XFM 92.3. Yup, the same station that played chillout and electronica during one of its more interesting stages, and before that, as jazz-retro station 923 Joey.

A lot’s happened to that frequency since I stopped writing about radio on the blog. The chillout format, as we all know, didn’t last, and eventually NU 107’s Mike Pedero came in to devise a smooth jazz format. In recent months, it’s evolved into what he called a “smooth variety” format, focusing on more accessible, upbeat, yet smooth tracks targeted towards females. But financially, the station wasn’t apparently performing well, and station owners NBC were looking for new ways to generate profits. The decision was made to terminate the station and transfer programming duties to a blocktimer. Cue Francis Lumen, currently head of All Youth Networks, the company in charge of MTV Philippines. He’s taking over, with a pop format that’s obviously very much tied in to the cable channel.

The station launches tomorrow, with an interesting mix of personalities, including former MTV VJs KC Montero, Cesca Litton, Marc Abaya and Sarah Meier; current MTV VJ Sib; Wave 89.1’s Jimmy Muna, 99.5 RT’s Joshua Yu, and perhaps the most surprising of all, the Brewrats – Tado, Ramon Bautista and Angel Rivero, who recently headed the breakfast slot on the resurrected RT after working the late shift on three iterations of the frequency. I’ve yet to gether details – apparently a print ad came out earlier – but tomorrow, I’ll be live-blogging here, talking about the station’s first twelve hours. Surely there’ll be discussion over at PinoyExchange. Let’s see how this goes.

06.00: “What up, Manila?”

KC Montero was the first voice heard on the station, perhaps the first live DJ on the frequency since, well, I can’t remember. For most of my radio listening life this station played smooth jazz and all the related stuff, so hearing voices takes a little getting used to.

I got to listen to XFM’s final transmissions over the past hour, and it’s a subtle dig on a farewell: WKRP in Cincinnati, followed by an unusual mix of standards, ending with an Al Jarreau track that says there are “better days ahead”. And then, seven minutes of talk, which isn’t really a good impression, although I should expect that.

The morning show’s called Morning Wood, they’re talking about the postponed Katy Perry gig, and I have a feeling I’ll never be able to connect with most of the schedule. Then again, I am an RT listener.

06.15: Fifteen minutes of prattle, followed by their first song: the Ting Tings’ Shut Up And Let Me Go.

06.24: They said the old XFM/Joey format will return “in three months or so”. So far, I’ve heard two songs and a lot of prattle. The midday shifts must work better for me. I just sent a text message, but the number was so long, I thought they were reading out their studio number with the area code intact.

07.57: I’m writing this from work, like I should be. The fact that I listened to my iPod on the commute to work must mean something. But I’m sticking with these guys for, at least, the next ten hours. Could this be the station that will challenge Magic 89.9, only with a bit more variety? (Do you hear the Itchyworms on that station? I’ll admit, I shouldn’t know; I avoid that frequency like the plague.)

But reading the blurb below the print ad – “radio never looked and sounded this good” – I think it means this: you can’t do this unless you’re either on TV or a model.

They’re hinting at Arnold Schwarzenegger impressions. Oh no.

08.07: Randomly, I remembered the Brewrats always playing on them not being DJs by profession. Then again, they’ve received more than enough training with the mixers back at RT. U92’s morning show’s got dropping and spiking levels. I can barely hear the ads, and then they come on too loud.

09.25: I haven’t really been able to follow what’s going on – the stream’s glitchy in an odd sense – but more or less, they’re talking about someone who’ll attempt to drink eight bottles of hot sauce for a thousand bucks. And, next week, an interview with Ne-Yo. And Kanye West? I don’t know if it’ll an impression or not, but it’s MTV, and they can do this. That aside, the Terminator just came in, and I am not amused.

09.57: One, it’s apparently called Morning Would. Two, they’re calling DJs by their full names, which is interesting considering it’s not really done here often. Three, their sound levels are so messed up – they celebrate the end of the first morning show by shouting, and it crackles badly, and then their last song comes in and it’s sooo quiet. They better sort this out, and quick.

10.07: Reminder to self: they’re promoting Katy Perry. It’s the third song in four hours.

10.10: It’s a four-hour request show with this Eri Neeman dude. Levels still suck. Quiet burst! quiet burst! quiet burst! quiet.

11.59: Someone said it right on the forum: the first two shifts are boring, but the music mix’s quite good. (RT doesn’t play local bands, ironic considering their sponsored Homegrown Rhythms segment. U92 does.) That guy’s waiting for Joshua to come in. Same here.

It’s a curious situation, actually. This radio station only has two shifts manned by former DJs, Brewrats counted. The rest honed their craft on television. And if I get this correct, this set-up is rushed. Cesca was admitting earlier that the textline was a mobile phone attached to a monitor (which meant they were reading the area code earlier!) and then there are the problems with the sound mixing, and the lack of imaging, and the lack of a punch that you’d expect from a pop station…

13.36: Apparently Eri is also from Wave. I obviously don’t listen to Wave. And that makes my two-former-DJs figure wrong. Make that three.

14.05: These shows have odd names. The U Know Show for the four-hour request shift, followed by Count on U, which is Joshua’s countdown show. And for those who are asking why the Brewrats moved to U92: I don’t really know, but I think the Rats (as well as Josh) were pirated from RT. It was probably their decision to move, not RT’s decision to fire.

14.19: Hearing Joshua take over is like hearing a familiar voice after so long. Not to mention, the levels are fixed. The songs and the chatter now sound just fine! Which speaks a lot about the others…

Apparently Eri had Kat Aggarado of Sino Sikat? as a guest at noon. I wasn’t listening at the time – I was busy at work, watching Glee. That is, after all, the advantage of having MTV do its own radio station: it has access to the big names, access that even the Magic can (probably) only dream of.

16.31: They’re really playing a lot more local tracks. Just heard Taken by Cars. I shouldn’t be judging a station on early days, but after ten hours of on-and-off listening, I’m confused.

16.45: They’re calling the afternoon drive shift The Dollhouse, which reminds me of this.

17.12: “We’re not in charge of the music right now,” Sara says. (Is it Sara? I think so.)

17.49: So, the initial final verdict: what’s with U92? It really does feel like MTV, judging from the music policy alone. Some shifts, of course, need some getting used to, so perhaps it’ll be a month before we know whether they’ll make interesting radio or just clutter the airwaves. Personally, I’m not yet convinced, but only because I know I’m not yet hearing everything in place – and it’s very obvious that it looks like the framework plus a few muscle here or there.

Still, it’d be interesting to hear someone else take a stab at the pop station – not TRPI, not RX. It’s a reflection of how radio has been at the moment: the decision to hire former VJs is a nod to the fact that TV personalities do radio now (like Sam Oh on RT) or radio personalities jumping to television (Mo, Andi and the BNO kids at Magic). Whether this’ll attract an audience in this saturated listening world, well, we’ll see. This could be a spectacular flop, or a spectacular success. Just fill in the gaps and we’re good to go.

I’ll be listening to the Brewrats. That must be a constant.

The push for new voters in the upcoming 2010 presidential elections has been in full swing, and for good reason: for many, there is a lot in stake in the upcoming polls, like it’s been in the past years. While registration has been more widely known unlike three years ago, things haven’t exactly gone smoothly. The following account is from Katrina Gomez, who talks about how inconsistent voters’ registration can be depending on where you are. Currently a student of the De La Salle University, she blogged about the last two Student Council elections here.

So today was supposed to be the day: voter’s registration. As in, I blocked off my calendar and all. I was told that all I needed were a valid ID and my voter’s registration form. So I brought my DLSU ID and my passport and the registration form being distributed at school. My mom and my sis did the same.

I didn’t count on the COMELEC office somehow thinking otherwise. Actually, I had a bad feeling upon entering the premises within the Makati fire station. The place looked like something straight out of Left for Dead: dark, twisting and nothing like the office of an institution seeking automation…

We were pointed towards this dirty, yellowing list of requirements taped on the wall. Okay, so apparently I needed proof of billing to “support” my student ID and my passport (telephone or water bill). Apparently, since my passport does not have my address, and my ID does not list it either (I study in Manila, not in Makati), I had to present the additional documents. Problems: I still live with my parents so of course the proofs of billing are not addressed to me. Either that or a birth certificate to prove my address.

The guard said we had to present photocopies of our IDs. Again, something I don’t ecall. So we had to go all the way downstairs to get the xerox done (at an unusually high price mind you!). Then we decided to go in to inquire about the entire procedure and the documents. Now the guy at the desk said that our forms wouldn’t do. We had to use their forms.

Okay, I would have let that slide were it not for the fact that I had seen photocopied forms being used in satellite registration elsewhere in the city.So does that mean that those people have their registrations jeopardized? And the forms I had with me were official COMELEC forms. If the forms at the desk were computer scannable, I’d understand the need to use them. But they weren’t.

Now the desk officer said that our IDs wouldn’t do since we needed proof of billing or our own postal addresses. Again, I’m a legal age dependent. My mother pointed that my sister and I are still students and therefore we don’t pay our own bills or have our own addresses. Then the election official backed down and said that all we had to do was prove that our parents were registered in the district, and to bring our birth certificates.

Now I don’t recall that being part of the voting requirements presented at school. And my experience does not go with the guidelines listed here:

Section 8. Application Forms for Registration (CEF-1A).

Application forms for Registration (CEF-1A) are available, free of charge, at the Office of the Election Officer, or may be downloaded from the COMELEC website, a sample of which is attached hereto as Annex “A” (CEF-1A – Application for Registration).

In the latter case, the applicant shall print the application form and accomplish the same in three (3) copies, to be signed and thumbmarked only in the presence of the EO.

Section 9. Procedure for filing of applications for registration.

a. The applicant shall personally appear before the EO, state his name and exact address, specifying the house number, name of street, area, district, purok or sitio, and barangay where he resides, or a brief description of his residence, and present any of the following current identification documents that bears applicant’s photograph and signature: (1) Employee’s identification card (ID) with the signature of the employer or authorized representative; (2) postal ID; (3) student’s ID or library card, signed by the school authority; (4) senior citizen’s ID; (5) driver’s license; (6) NBI/PNP clearance;  (7) passport;  (8) SSS/GSIS ID; (9) Integrated Bar of the Philippine (IBP) ID; (10) Llicense issued by the Professional Regulatory Commission (PRC); and (11) any other valid ID.

In the absence of any of the abovementioned identification documents, the applicant may be identified under oath by any registered voter of the precinct, or by any of his relatives within the fourth civil degree of consanguinity or affinity who are registered voters of the same city/municipality.

Community Tax Certificates (cedula) or certifications/identification cards issued by barangay officials shall not be honored as valid identification documents.

If the identity of the applicant cannot be established by any of the aforementioned methods, he shall not be issued an application form. In case of downloaded application forms, the same shall not be accepted.

b. The EO shall then verify from the National List of Registered Voters (NLRV) if the applicant’s name is found therein. If the applicant is found to be registered in the same city/municipality he shall be advised that he need not apply for registration. If he is found to be registered voter in another city/municipality, he shall be advised to apply for transfer for registration pursuant to Section 10 hereof.

c. If the applicant’s name is not included in the NLRV, the EO shall, using the barangay precinct map, verify whether or not the address given by the applicant is located within the territorial boundary of any of the precincts within the jurisdiction of the district/city/municipality.
If the applicant is not a resident, the EO shall advise the applicant to proceed to the OEO of the district/city/municipality where he resides.

If the applicant resides within the territorial jurisdiction of the district/city/municipality, the EO shall: (1) inform the applicant of the qualifications and disqualifications for registration; (2) determine the precinct where the applicant belongs by referring to the barangay precinct map. The applicant shall be assigned temporarily to the mother precinct comprising his residence. The precinct assignment shall be finalized after the approval of the application. Daughter precinct(s) shall be created to accommodate approved applicants in excess of the 200-voter per precinct limit. In case of boundary dispute, the EO shall maintain the status quo; (3) indicate the precinct assignment of the applicant at the upper right-hand portion of the application form; and (4) issue the prescribed application form in three copies.

d. Upon receipt of the application forms, the applicant shall personally accomplish the same separately in his own handwriting and submit the accomplished application forms to the EO. Titles such as reverend, datu, attorney, sultan, doctor, hadji, engineer, bai and others shall not be allowed.

e. If the applicant has a downloaded and duly-accomplished application form, it shall be signed and thumbmarked in the presence of the EO.

f. After ensuring that the application form has been filled up correctly, completely and legibly, the EO shall write the Application Form Number. The Application Form Number shall consist of four parts. The first two digits represent the province code, the second two digits represent the city/municipal code, the third two digits represent the Data Capture Machine (DCM) Number, and the last seven digits represent the control code starting after the last code number assigned.

g. The EO shall return the application form to the applicant and direct the applicant to proceed to the DCM Operator for data capturing.

The application form of an applicant who refuses to submit himself for the live capture of his biometrics data shall not be accepted and deemed not filed.

h. The DCM Operator shall proceed to capture the complete biometrics data of the applicant, affix his initial below the space provided for the EO’s signature in Part 2 of the application form and direct the latter to go back to the EO.

i. The EO shall: (1) administer the oath. The application form of an applicant who refuses to take the oath shall not be accepted and deemed not filed. (2) affix his signature in the appropriate space on the forms;. (3) retain the three copies; and (4) cut the bottom portion of the application form (copy for EO) and give it to the applicant to serve as Acknowledgment Receipt and proof of fact of filing of his application.

Right away, upon leaving the COMELEC office, my sister texted a friend of hers who registered in Paranaque. According to him, the only ID he needed was his school ID. So it seems that the procedures in different offices aren’t standard?

Something needs to be straightened out with the offices for the sake of our future voters.

At the risk of sounding insensitive, I thought the procession from the Manila Cathedral to the Manila Memorial Park felt like some sort of spectator sport. A race, even.

While I expected that the final transfer of the body of former president Cory Aquino would take long – a return of sorts to 1983, when her husband, Ninoy Aquino, was laid to rest – I was somehow hoping that she get to her final destination quicker. I figured it would finally put her to rest, after a life spent on the spotlight, more so in the days before and after her death. But, I figured, it’s not going to happen, not when hundreds of thousands of grateful Filipinos flock to pay their last respects to the woman who’s made what we are as a country possible.

And indeed, it happened. As I type this, the convoy has finally entered the Sucat exit, and the final stretch of the journey. Police estimate that at least 300,000 people have come to watch this, watching by the sidelines, flashing the Laban! sign, throwing the prerequisite yellow confetti, chanting Cory’s name along the way. Many times did the convoy find the need to slow down and give everyone a chance to not just look.

To be honest, I can’t really tell. I was born in 1989, almost three years after the first EDSA revolution drove Ferdinand Marcos out of office. As part of the generation that merely benefited from all that she’s done, perhaps the sacrifices were lost on me. But I knew it anyway, from the stories on television to the yearly retrospectives, and I knew what she did. Never mind that she wasn’t the best president, with all the problems her administration faced. That’s moot anyway. She did what mattered – she brought us back democracy.

And she continued to fight for it after she stepped down from office in 1992. Still a vocal proponent of change during her successors’ administrations, she was an instrumental part of the second EDSA revolution that drove Joseph Estrada out of office – a decision that she seemingly apologized for, when she called for Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s resignation. She continued showing up even when colon cancer struck her – and didn’t stop until her condition got worse. I surely would’ve missed something along the way.

I figured, now she’s finally had the chance to rest, the least she deserves is a peaceful passage to the other side.

But you can’t stop people from expressing how grateful and thankful they are. It’s just, well, I don’t know – immense sadness on her death, mixed with immense joy on her life. It wasunited and genuine, something I initially found off-putting – it felt a little odd on my part. I thought something like this should be personal, because what Cory did touched everyone in a distinct way, surely, but we have organizations and groups and all these sectors doing a concerted effort, from streamers to those ribbons scattered everywhere. It felt a bit fake, but what do I know?

I was, perhaps, getting cynical of institutions. The events of the past years have been full of that – mistrust of authorities after so many scandals and controversies, of rigged elections and incessant corruption, of not giving a damn and not giving another damn. Suddenly a concerted movement for something is treated with a grain of salt, with doubt over their intentions, with anxiety whether it’ll just make things worse rather than improve it.

Suddenly, we’re all united again. It’s always what Cory did: unite people, rally them for a cause, make them feel it’s worth it, because she believed it was worth it. Everything was worth it. The crowds gathered in 1986; the crowds gathered in 2001; the crowds gather today, waiting under the intermittent weather, expressing their gratitude in one way or another. It amazes me seeing such a wave of grief and gratitude, from the tributes when she died on Saturday, to the crowds that gathered at La Salle Greenhills and the Manila Cathedral, to the people that watched the procession, both last Monday and today. I guess I forgot what being united really means.

Most of my generation’s tweets over the past few days wondered whether we’ll have anybody like Cory Aquino – someone that will unite the Filipinos towards a common cause, make them fight for it with all they have – more than Manny Pacquiao can, or any other Filipino who brings pride to our country for that matter. Maybe not anymore. We have changed, for better or for worse. The best is perhaps for us to do it ourselves, not wait for someone to stand up and lead. The Filipinos as leaders – now that’s a good idea.

As part of that generation, all I can do is thank you, Cory, for doing what you had to do. My freedom to argue and choose what I want is all down to you, or else I’d probably be quiet and powerless like how it was for most of us before. If we revert after tonight, it would be a shame.

Hopefully, we can all say “hindi ka nag-iisa” with conviction soon.

Photo courtesy of Jhaphet Flordeliza.

It was no surprise that President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s State of the Nation Address – supposedly her final, unless she actually extends her term like most fear – would end up becoming a trending topic on Twitter. I am one of those responsible, with many media outfits, political pundits and common Filipinos turning to the microblogging service to list down talking points, express their thoughts, argue with other tweeters, discuss fashion styles, and count number of applauses. Nobody got it right the first time.

Perhaps the most annoying part is, two-thirds through the speech, most media outfits have disappeared. Twitter has hourly tweeting limits for almost everyone, unless you file for special consideration. Thus, we disappeared – the pundits, the media, and heavy tweeters like me. As I write this, I still can’t post anything, and it’s been forty minutes. I call this a Twitter fail.

But it’s quite an amazing thing, being on Twitter and posting whatever we can hear. Before the feisty speech, which had more jibes (and, as Alyssa put it, blind items) against her critics than her other SONAs, I’ve been seeing many folks post (and repost) updates as they see it. The Philippine Daily Inquirer had their photographers tweet their photos. The PCIJ were throwing in bits of analysis. Pundit Manuel Quezon III was throwing in his thoughts as well. And those are just the people that I followed during the past three hours – and, in some cases, retweeted what I tweeted, or at least the stuff I heard from DZMM.

But, after Arroyo could say that her critics should focus on working rather than “[saying] bad words in public”, we all started to curse. The updates disappeared. The commentary disappeared. The tweet limits have kicked in.

While it’s disappointing that we never got to stay there when it mattered – when Arroyo finished trotting out her administration’s achievements and started defending herself against her detractors and set her legacy as she prepares to, at least supposedly, step down – it’s qite breathtaking seeing a large number of more vocal people tossing in their two cents’ worth. While the SONA reached second place on Twitter’s trending topics, I was getting responses from people who feared Internet censorship in the future, or were annoyed at Arroyo’s streak of Barack Obama name-dropping, or just hated my tweets because of lack of analysis. I don’t mind. Public discourse is what I’ve wanted to see, and while I felt it wasn’t that maximized, it was the first time I really saw it.

Then again, the discussion was mostly populated by those who said they’re not watching the SONA, or those who talked about the fashion. Hopefully the more important points get discussed throughout the night, and will spread the following day, for when it happens, things will get so much better. Soon, hopefully, I’ll wonder about all that mention of OFW clemencies, strong economies and our inherent cynicism… but for now, we’re trending. Wheee.

I first heard news of Michael Jackson’s death during my daily work commute, and my mind quickly returned to my work on the previous season of American Idol, one week of which was dedicated to his songs. One idea led to another, and it culminated in this article, which was thankfully given a go-signal and eventually first published on BuddyTV shortly after his death was officially confirmed.

The feeble connection with American Idol is, of course, the very first week of the finals of the past season. “Tonight, we’re celebrating the hits of Michael Jackson,” Ryan Seacrest said, before the Top 13 kicked off their trips to stardom singing songs from the so-called King of Pop. (That episode will be aired again this Monday from 8pm on Fox.) I’m just in my early 20s, and I’ll admit to being too young during his heyday, so watching that show was quite a revelation: “I didn’t know he sang that!” was my most prominent line, once song after song after song started to sound so familiar.

I suddenly remembered that when news of the musician’s death started filtering through. The sketchy details – of him suffering a heart attack, of being found not breathing in his home, of him being brought to a Los Angeles hospital – gave way to unconfirmed detail after unconfirmed detail after confirmed detail. And then, the tributes, in 140-character bursts, from celebrities to my friends who, for the most part, were too young to have a grasp of his hits.

The death is, of course, a shock. Save that retrospective on Idol, he’s been enjoying a comeback of sorts: just last year, he re-released his iconic album Thriller, 25 years after it was released. He was even preparing for a massive 50-date concert stretch in London, supposed to start next month.

Apart from his music, of course, were the controversies. After that episode of Idol wrapped up, I remember reading many comments on this website, from viewers furious because the show paid tribute to someone who has allegedly sexually abused children. Why glorify it, they say? There’s more, of course – the Neverland ranch, the baby on the hotel balcony, the years of plastic surgery, the trips to Bahrain. My mother, who has a thing for nostalgia, always recalled him when he was younger, from his years with the Jackson Five to his highly successful solo career, from Bad to Thriller to Billie Jean to Beat It to Human Nature to Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’…

Everybody’s probably said it at this point, but Michael Jackson’s some sort of an eccentric personality. Musically, he’s very talented; his songs are still being sampled to this day, if not being played on radio stations altogether. He’s put together many genres, throw in his lyrics, and made them truly his own–and arguably revolutionize pop music for the better. His performances are also much remembered; his choreography have inspired many dancers, and he (also) arguably turned the music video from just shots of the artist singing to an art form in itself.

Personally, I think my interests in the art of music would’ve been a lot more different – or non-existent – if not for him. And I believe everybody holds the same sentiments.

Sure, he’s had his own share of controversies, and I won’t be an apologist for it. He wasn’t like many of us: his childhood was, he admitted, very lonely, born down by stresses of performing as well as abuse. The accusations of sexual abuse changed him, or at least our perceptions of him. And then there are all of those other rumors and eccentricities. But we cannot deny his impact on the world.  He isn’t just any other singer. I don’t think anyone can put a finger on everything he’s done, for the way he took the world by storm and got us dancing for five decades. I know I can’t. I guess it’s something we can’t exactly put into words – and yeah, this will sound like a mere excuse, but it’s something that you’ve got to experience rather than read or write. I may be too young, but his impact was so huge, I can still feel it.

It was a Wednesday. As always, I was in front of my work computer, wondering how the heck I finished all of my tasks early. I got a message from Carmel – who works somewhere within DLSU – announcing that classes have been suspended until 14 June.

Actually, I initially thought that the Independence Day break was extended, until I realized that the date given was a Sunday. Was the school breaking apart? It was raining hard, after all, although the possibility of a part of the school breaking apart because of the weather was less than nil. So, obviously, I asked why.

“Alam mo ba kung bakit wala?” she responded. Those words felt like it was something pretty big.

“Baha?” I cluelessly answered. I was really clueless, turns out.

“May isang confirmed case ng AH1N1 virus.”

I was idle, after all, so immediately I swung to reporter mode, and started posting everything I know on Twitter. I posted an update here, and I posted an update on the forums. It was barely five in the afternoon. In less than thirty minutes, my Facebook news feed would be populated by my friends reacting to the news. Same goes with my Twitter page, and I was one of those inundated with questions, both by students and alumni.

But, of course, you know what happened already. A foreign exchange student was diagnosed with flu, the AH1N1 kind. As per DOH guidelines, the university decided to shut its doors for ten days – the supposed lifespan of the virus. Inevitably, everything was affected – this term’s graduation was delayed by a full month – and, to the students who were initially clueless but suddenly had to face the news, well, what else did they do?

As expected, the school did not reveal the identity of patient zero, understandably to prevent discrimination. However, perhaps eleven thousand people wanted to know who that person was, so that they’ll know if they are at risk of contracting the illness, too. Insert frustrated complaints on the forums, about the university not giving much information, which supposedly isn’t helping things.

Eventually, the university decided to contact students who they think could’ve interacted with patient zero – students who attended the same classes, and perhaps spent a significant amount of time with. I guess that’s how they found the second patient, which was discovered a day later. Reports said the second case was a close friend and roommate of patient zero. Also a foreign exchange student, some said. But that much is said.

The surprise was when a third patient was found – a male, possibly a freshman, who claims he didn’t know the first two patients. But of course, the AH1N1 virus is airborne, and even if you didn’t encounter someone who already had it, there’s still a chance that you’ll get it. By then, I think, the world started to melt for those who didn’t know what’s going on.

Of course, we have a reason to be worried. Who wants to get sick, after all? Oh, and there’s the fact that this has been, somewhat unwittingly, blown out of proportion by the media. It suddenly came up, after all, in Mexico – a hybrid, supposedly, of swine flu, avian flu and human flu – and it started spreading across the world. There were fatalities, and there were even more patients, and the world went into an alert mode.

Then again, we didn’t know much about the condition. The early days may have been an overreaction, but it was the only reaction people could do. The least we did, right here, was hope that it doesn’t come to our shores.

Inevitably, however, it did. One case became two, then became six, then became twelve. Some may be surprised that the number of patients multiplied so fast in a span of a few days, but we still shrugged the possibility that it’ll hit us. It was pretty similar to the SARS story a few years back – we had one case, I think, and we were alarmed, but we were not so worried that it’ll hit us. Nevertheless we were asked to wash our hands while singing two birthday songs.

I guess it takes a case closer to home for people to be shaken out of half-complacency. I’m no longer a student – I’ve graduated a year ago, and have spent the past eleven months slaving away in Ortigas – but the threat is suddenly real. The same, of course, goes to those who still study in DLSU. Past cases may have been far away, and quite controlled, and all of a sudden you can catch it simply be doing what you usually do. It sucks, of course, to be diagnosed with a condition whose name is a babble of numbers and letters, whose vaccine is yet being formulated, and whose stigma could last forever. While the concerns were genuine, it didn’t take long before the whole reaction turned to exaggerated paranoia.

I was reading the thread that I made in light of the initial announcement, and the amusing concerns became quite annoying. There were the (valid) concerns regarding how the academic year would turn out with the long suspension. And then there’s some demands for DLSU to identify the dormitory where the first cases were staying. Very insistent, to put it lightly.

One poster’s getting scared because her roommates were getting sick – one’s got sore throat, another’s got the colds, and she’s got a cough, too. There are foreigners occupying units at the EGI Taft Tower? Some say it should be quarantined, too.

With confirmation that patient zero is a Japanese, there’s suddenly mistrust among any Japanese-looking person in the vicinity. I remember someone saying that he’s stayed away from Koreans because he might be infected. Perhaps there’s a degree of shunning to whoever is sick – like that instance when someone suddenly sneezed inside an establishment near DLSU, and everybody looked at him, perhaps scared, perhaps angry, that they didn’t lock themselves up at home.

You can’t help but feel that some students think it’ll be the end of the world because a barely-known illness has caused their university to shut down operations for ten days. “Apocalypse personified,” as I later described it.

But it’s been weeks since the first outbreak in Mexico. We definitely know a lot more since then. The flu is a mild case of the flu – perhaps as tough as a bad cold, and that’s it. The few fatalities across the world died because they had complicating factors – they were previously sick with something else when the AH1N1 virus came along. In fact, more than half of those diagnosed with the virus in the country have been sent home.

More importantly, it’s just the flu, with a different name! I don’t see an institution as big as DLSU shutting down because someone, say, was infected with the cold. That is easily passed from one person to another, even if you try your hardest to stay away from it. I did tell a few people, that we won’t panic as much if the flu becomes very ubiquitous. And maybe it already is, since it’s airborne and it’s already affected thirtysomething people. Soon it’ll be just like the ordinary cold, and we’ll stop panicking like this even if we’ve hit 70,000 cases at one point.

Then again, a couple of universities have delayed their class openings, and the government has decided to move everyone out. Yeah, there’s still a basis, but I have a feeling most of us (and I’m including myself here) are actually more clueless than we think. My sister showed me a blog entry Wednesday night, from one of her friends, about what he overheard during the panic session that followed.

“Ano ba yang swine flu na yan?” this girl apparently said. “Sa Singapore it’s ‘pig’s flu’. Pareho lang ba yun? Ano ba ng pig yung may sakit? Organ ba ng pig yung swine? Wait, di ba Mexican word yung swine?”

Placebo effect, anyone?

I was looking at the screen more closely than usual. I was coming off a pretty big surprise moments ago, when my predictions – which have been right for most of the past few weeks – have gone seriously off kilter. Three people remained standing, and another verdict was to be delivered.

“Adam, you are safe.”

Yeah, that was a given. It’s always been that way for most of the past few weeks, expect for the week before, when he surprisingly appeared on the bottom three. But that wasn’t the purpose of the moment. In my five years of watching American Idol – the first two seasons weren’t aired in the Philippines – I’ve never felt so nervous about what was going to happen in the next two minutes.

I was staring at the screen, my heart pounding, waiting for the inevitable.

“Danny, you are safe.”

Yes, in those five years, I’ve had bets and I’ve had favorites. In the third season – the first one aired in this side of the world – I was, like everybody else, rooting for the two Filipino-American contestants that made it to the finals: Camile Velasco, and eventual third-placer Jasmine Trias. The next year, I was rooting for eventual runner-up Bo Bice. The year after that, it was Taylor Hicks. I never got to follow the next two seasons, because I was getting busier with school, and even if most of the crucial performances happened over the summer, there was just no time to get settled with the contenders. You were watching them sing, but you never really rooted for anybody.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t aware of things. I was, after all, still plugged in to the Internet and to friends who were still keeping track. Of course, last year was about the Davids – either you were rooting for David Cook or David Archuleta. I wasn’t fond of the younger David because everybody else was gushing over him. The girls were all, “he’s sooo handsome!” and the same went with the older David. (I prefered him because I liked his style, but I wasn’t rooting for anybody.)

The finale happened, and everybody around me had a bet. While I was there to see who won, I wasn’t there to go crazy about it. I wasn’t annoyed for everybody who dedicated every blog entry and status message to the cause, but it did seem like it was too much. But I wasn’t the type who followed someone big to all ends. I was just at home, watching the finale live – it’s always that way anyway – and was a little relieved that David Cook won. The celebration, and the singles, followed.

Everything changed the following year, this one. I have since graduated from DLSU, and have started writing for a television website based in the United States. It just happened that I was assigned to do American Idol, which was a pretty lucky strike since I didn’t have to bluff about it – at the very least, I knew how it works, but I was able to watch a few seasons and get a feel for how things go. And, inevitably – or perhaps because I told myself I’d have to immerse myself in the show I’m covering so much so that I’d feel better with what I’ll write later – this season saw me getting more involved than ever before.

And, after those conversations with fans and pundits over all those years, I’ll become one myself.

As you probably know, the season started with some fanfare over the changes – Kara DioGuardi as the fourth judge, the return of the wild card round, the (unsuccessful) attempts to give audition episodes a feel-good vibe – and then, nothing much. There were some stand-outs, either in a good way or in a bad way. It was just work as usual – it was still the audition episodes, of course, and the only significant thing I did was write an opinion piece about why I don’t watch them.

Inevitably, however, I was having favorites. The girl then known as Megan Corkrey got my attention during her auditions, but never showed up again until the day she was sent to the Top 36. I was also seeing people already place their bets on people – there was this guy named Adam Lambert, whose slick hair and soaring vocals earned a million shrieking female fans. There was this guy named Danny Gokey, whose soulful voice got the attention of my mother. The same went with this girl named Lil Rounds, and by then I understood her appeal – a mother of three who can sing the way most Filipinos think is the right way to sing.

It took me a long time to place my bets on a few other contestants. I was impressed by Alexis Grace when she took to the stage – perhaps it’s me and my preference for artists who bring something different to the table, or in other words, don’t sound very much like the others I’ve heard, by choice or by force. And then there’s Allison Iraheta, whose name popped up only in that leaked list of Top 36 contestants. I only knew her as a 16-year-old who had a weird, toothy grin. I literally dismissed her the way I dismissed many other contestants; by the time, the judges were already hinting at the male contestants being better than the females.

She appeared in the second batch of semifinalists, decided to do a Heart song, and I noticed that her hair was very red, much more than the photo suggested. And, perhaps like everybody else, I was blown away. Or surprised. Actually, both.

Suddenly I have a strong favorite for the competition – a personal choice more than a bandwagon, an admitted first – and since I’m writing about the show for work, I found myself in an extraordinary position: I can follow the entire thing to an extent that others here aren’t probably privy to. But the weirder thing is, I’ll end up, and probably have to be, a little more obsessed to make sense of it all.

I’m not exactly fond of being a fan of something. I’m not the type of guy who grabs every detail about something just to prove that dedication, although there have been a number of exceptions, all of which ended in disaster. Or, I always have this tendency to be objective in everything – I can see some flubs even in the people I get pretty fanatical with. Perhaps it’s what my work asks me to do, or it’s something more built in. I wasn’t exactly made to blindly say “oh my gosh” like what I saw my friends do the previous season.

So, it’s work that led me to the biographical stuff that fans would usually search on Google. She’s sixteen, born some time in April (I actually forgot until it happened), won a singing contest aired on a Spanish-language network, and is of Salvadoran descent, quickly debunking my “is she Japanese?” thought bubble.

Then again, she’s cute. All right, she’s cute. That’s where it all begins anyway. The moment I recognized that, I knew resisting is futile. But I’m the guy who’s very uncomfortable with having a crush on a celebrity, much more a younger one. My friend Icka – who readily admitted to being obsessed to another finalist, Anoop Desai – was basically telling me not to feel bad, because the age gap is just roughly three years.

In between work, we ended up chatting about her obsession. I wouldn’t call mine that, but inevitably what I’m doing is release of some sort. And then, back to work.

The objective part lies in my comments on the performances themselves. The nice thing with doing American Idol for work is you get to see everything on a wider level. The average viewer would usually watch their favorite’s performance and just gush. I end up looking beyond that. While most are gushing about how great their favorites are, I’m probably a little more unforgiving with mine, while still giving some part of me to the getting-blown-away part. For example, Megan was one of the most unique performers the show ever had, and yet she polarized everybody. As much as it pained me to see her go, I had to guess that she’s going early, and that indeed happened.

In that case, my bias towards Allison – can I call her Allie here too, like I always have? – was a weird combination of objectivity, a requirement for work, and what they all call spazzing, at least to a slight degree. That weird feeling of not wanting to stare at the screen, but having to do just that? It’s uncomfortable because it’s becoming a crush, and it’s not exactly what I wanted to do – I’m literally falling into what everybody else has done. Is that what watching the show is supposed to be like?

Probably, but then there are the recurring themes that I end up playing with for work. Elimination felt like a weeding out of the undeserving, to the point that I predicted it in stages quite accurately. Danny was not improving, and suddenly paled. Adam started to bore. Both still have large fan bases, and both have arguably become a pain in the ass. Kris Allen, the unsuspecting quiet guy, has sprung ahead with surprisingly good arrangements.

Inevitably I’d pay more attention to Allie, even if all I actually did was listen. (Then again, I always did that.) Sure, her performances were pretty good most of the time – and that’s being objective – but she veered towards being predictable, and she was different on stage than off, and she was just being outstaged by screamers and sob stories. Eventually, you knew she wasn’t going to last – she made four trips to the bottom three – but as the competition neared its end, and she continued to perform and attract more attention, it suddenly dawned on me. She might just last.

Is that how you really watch American Idol? There’s the speculation, and there’s the arguments about who deserves to stay and who deserves to go – probably a much more different thing if you’re not in the United States – and then there’s the passionate cheering for a particular contestant, for whatever reason there is. In my case, it’s Allie’s talent that defies her 17-year-old self, and perhaps the attached infatuation, for lack of a better term. I did say there’s a first time for everybody. I ended up doing what they all did with the Davids the last time this happened.

“Allison Iraheta is going home tonight,” Ryan Seacrest said – or at least something like it. I was watching the rest of the show before getting to work with the usual contestant wrap-up ditty I was supposed to do, and I knew this one would be a little more difficult, or a little more too extensive than usual. And it was weird, too. It was the first time I felt really nervous while watching the program, and almost the first time I cried. And I was in front of the computer in a full office.

So, I thought, that was it for me. No more of the slightly giddy viewing habits, the constant wondering about whether someone can actually trump front-runner Adam, or he-should-have-been-eliminated-eons-ago guy Danny. I was just there, taking photos from the past four months, cropping them, assembling them, and writing about the, and my readers from both sides of the pond called the entire write-up either “emotional” or “excellent”. I was getting a little curious as to how someone like her could act that way despite the seemingly bad news – gestures to the big screen showing the elimination video package, seemingly happy that she made it this far, spunky and misunderstood at the same time. The last song, and you see that one tear.

And then I was over it. Slightly, at least. I did get a little too attached, judging from conversations with who actually cared about the show. But it’s just work. I continue writing, about other shows, about other things, for other fans, and then some. Icka did say I’ll lose it when I read the exit interviews, especially since I’ll see all of that when I return to work.

That night was crazy, but I got home anyway and caught the moment of elimination twice, on two different channels. And yesterday, I caught two replays of her last performance.

It felt uncomfortable, to say the least.

Four years later, it felt like a fairy tale ending.

Call me biased, but I’ve always wanted to see a fairly large chunk of Santugon candidates win in the elections. From a storyteller’s perspective – after all, this coverage began as an attempt to tell a story more than an attempt to do public service – it would’ve been a pretty redemptive angle: the party that’s sought, for the longest time, to dominate the Student Council, has finally done it. That, and maybe because I have more friends from the yellow side, and I get to see things from their perspective without really trying.

Looking back, it’s quite ironic thinking that it happened when I’m already gone. I wasn’t there to see it, and I obviously won’t be there to judge whether it’d be any good. But for someone’s who’s immersed in the whole experience a bit too much than the usual, the questions are still inevitable.

The most obvious of those would be, would a change of mandate really change things? Let’s face it – as much as a Tapat-dominant Student Council tried, students are disillusioned with the way things have gone. The average student still thinks the entire process is of no use – they get nothing out of it, they don’t feel any change (for better or worse), and they think the whole thing is just a waste of time. I’ve been a student for three years, and I’ve never hidden my exasperation over how things go – column inch after column inch of plans end up disappearing, for both parties.

Last year’s elections were significant because it shows signs that people are willing to address the issue. The oranges wanted an overhaul of the structure, while the yellows wanted a shot at the bigger positions, claiming that different mindsets will change the way students perceive the Student Council. Of course, you know what happened there – Tapat won with a bigger-than-expected majority, and Santugon got branded as dirty players. The entire thing backfired, though – if the students felt the Student Council didn’t work for them before, now they felt that the entire thing is just a big argument that they don’t want to be involved in.

So after all this mess – and the folks on top changing a lot, for better or for worse – will things really improve? Will students, finally, really feel the impact of whatever the Student Council does? You can throw in buzzwords like “accountability” and “transparency” and “collaboration” but they will remain merely ways to sound intelligent; if they don’t feel it, it’s going to be your fault.

The coming school year could prove the answers – or, at least, something that closely resembles them. The USG proposal, perhaps one of the most important topics of the 2008 elections, is still around, and if those unconfirmed reports are to be believed, a majority (however that’s defined) of the voters agreed that an overhaul is needed. Maybe I don’t have an understanding of how everything works, but you might want to expect a little clash – the past ideals of changing how things work, to the (supposedly) current ideals of changing who works them.

This argument, it seems, will never be over.

An even bigger question would be, will the students be patient enough? We are, after all, still fans of instant gratification, perhaps because the parties promised us change without clearly explaining its nature. If there’s something we should’ve learned over the past few elections – while swinging between apathy to outrage – it’s this: things cannot possibly take effect in just a year. It’s quite good to see that students are seeing beyond the rhetoric and have started digging deep, although the results are still not the stuff you’d expect from people who are in the know. That will really take a while.

But I think students already know that – it’s something they’ve obviously seen everywhere else, from their relationships to their studies, and nothing should make the elections, or the promises the candidates make, any special. The clincher, then, is in how this happens.

We’re told that the solutions and reforms they provide will finally make the students reap the rewards of whatever it is they’re looking for – in this case, for the Student Council’s work to be felt, beyond events that nobody cares about and tickets nobody wants to buy. But, time and again, it seems we have been failed – the “revolution” isn’t realized, the “vision” isn’t seen, and everything ends up being a battle of who did what. Or which party is the best.

I know that this plea has been done time and time again, but there’s never been a better time for you to be vigilant. Forgive me for saying this, but perhaps we’ve become complacent about the Student Council – this is very much different from apathy – because we’ve seen the same old get rotated, nothing happens, nothing is known, and it all descends to a road show.

Now that we’ve been jerked with a scenario not seen in over six years – a yellow is president, the oranges are suddenly pushed towards the fringe – it’s time to step up and see whether it is really worth it. Did they commit to their campaign promises? Did they do what they have to do, or just use the position to gain an upper hand? Did they deliver, or would the other side deliver far better? In a time when bashing has become worse than ever before, nothing works more than a third party rising – and that’s you figuring things out for yourself, beyond the expected spin. Face it. It’s inescapable. You better make the best of it.

That idea wasn’t anywhere near my intentions when I started Shale Campaigns in 2006. I’ve told this story time and again, and I’ll never hesitate repeating it – I was following a friend’s campaign, I ended up writing more than I should, and the next thing I know, I’m here. But in four years of storytelling, you can’t help but think there’s a certain theme to it.

We began with disillusionment – that all they did were activities that nobody cares about. It became a numbers game, as it always seems to be. It became about disconnection – about people who get shut out, or get pushed in without merit, or things that are not done right, or are done at all. It became about what the Student Council is about – more than credentials, more than a show, it’s about preparation for the future. For what Tapat calls as the students becoming progressive, for what Santugon calls as the students being empowered – that was it.

So it’s pretty amazing, for me at least, to see that we’ve culminated in two solutions that, finally, sounds plausible enough to be implemented in the foreseeable future. Never mind that it got dirtier, far more disconnected, far more annoying – it felt that, for once, somebody listened and decided to do something about it. It may not be perfect, but it’s always meant to take a while. This is obviously not yet over.

This could make for a good book series, but maybe not.

For me, it was all for the rush, of talking to people you don’t usually talk about, asking questions they probably didn’t anticipate. It was all for the fame, maybe, although the reputation issues never manifested until when it’s all over. But, above all, it’s telling the story of what happens behind the scenes – an aim that evolved into telling what this is all about. It’s nice seeing that everybody is better off with these questions in hand, making it easier for them to decide things, if they ever choose to do so. And that’s where I’ll leave it.

This is, really, really, going to be the very last time I’ll be doing this. But we’re far from over. Forgive me for being self-indulgent, but it’s your turn now to ask the questions and start the conversations, beyond the bashing – or, at least, relegating it to the sidelines – and more towards the possibilities. The elections aren’t built to be a popularity contest, and it shouldn’t matter whether one flubbed a speech, or one lost while being deserving. I hope that happens. It must be fun to be the one reading about what happens in 2010, when all of this year’s assumptions are given a verdict.

To everyone I’ve met, and to everyone that helped along the way, thank you. And to everyone who’ve participated in the discussion, I can only give you my utmost gratitude.

Katrina, the ball is now on your court.

Niko Batallones graduated from the De La Salle University in 2008 with a degree in Communication Arts, and currently works as a writer for an American entertainment website. In his own words, he works as an “outsourced writer,” something he isn’t exactly fond of.

Click here to see the thread on this year’s elections on PinoyExchange, and post your opinions and speculations. You can also follow us through Twitter.

Aimee Chua leads Santugon to an upset in this year’s General Election, with the yellows taking three out of six executive board positions and four out of six college assemly presidencies.

Although no numbers are available yet, Aimee beat her opponent, Tapat standard bearer Ron Semira. Nadia Ong is elected as academics vice president, beating Leah Villalon. Pierre Lim has won the treasurer slot, beating Mikko Hizon.

Tapat’s Kat Regalado took the activities vice presidency position against Vernon de Guzman. Chichi Tullao is elected as operations vice president, beating Gil Bautista, while Cabe Aquino won as secretary, beating Mae Ong.

Santugon took the university’s three biggest colleges: Jinkay Manimbo won as assembly president of the CBE, beating Ange Yapyuco; Lorenz de Castro beat Vero Zamesa for the CLA assembly presidency; and Alex Narciso beat Resti Caroro for the same position for the COE. Glecer Bautista also won for the yellows, taking the assembly presidency for the CCS. Tapat scores the assembly presidencies in the CED and COS; Sherwin Diu beat Mau Bacierto, and AC Cristobal beat Bethel Ledesma.

Unverified reports see Santugon took 38 batch-level positions, swiping an overwhelming majority in the CCS (11-1) and CBE (9-3). They also took a slightly closer 7-5 majority in the COE. Tapat had an overwhelming 2-8 majority in the CED. It was a tight match for the CLA, with Tapat taking a 5-7 lead; and COS, with both parties splitting at 4-4.

21.30: Aimee won by around 700 votes, while Nadia won by a more comfortable 1000 votes. Kat and Chichi took their slots by around 350 votes, while Cabe won by perhaps the smallest margin imaginable: 25 votes.

21.52: Better, more specific numbers from someone in Santugon through PinoyExchange: Aimee led by 721 votes; Nadia led by 1393 votes; and Pierre won by 537 votes. The yellows also took 21 batch representative slots – nine of them becoming batch presidents – and 17 Legislative Assembly slots.

22.58: There’s no confirmation yet, but sources say the USG seems to be a yes. Also, more specific numbers for the other Tapat wins: Chichi led by 357 votes, while Kat led by 355.

Niko Batallones graduated from the De La Salle University in 2008 with a degree in Communication Arts, and currently works as a writer for an American entertainment website. In his own words, he works as an “outsourced writer,” something he isn’t exactly fond of.

Click here to see the thread on this year’s elections on PinoyExchange, and post your opinions and speculations. You can also follow us through Twitter.

Originally, I was supposed to have just a small story covered. My sister told me about a little campaign flub somewhere in the CLA – to be precise, the question of who really started the move to return priority enrollment privileges to students who have failed some subjects and, thus, lost that privilege in the first place. Someone from Santugon apparently claimed that their candidates – to be precise, standard bearer Aimee Chua and her second-in-command, Nadia Ong – filed the resolution putting the priority enrollment reinstatement in motion, something that Vero Zamesa, Tapat’s bet for the CLA assembly presidency, balked at. Turns out, she was one of those who co-drafted the resolution.

During those conversations with my sister, I figured it was just a problem with who actually does what. Perfect, I thought. It ties in with the need for students to know how the Student Council works, rather than what it does. Of course, there’s a major difference between filing a resolution and lobbying such a move. Only Legislative Assembly representatives can file a resolution – it was something that Vero, who currently represents FAST 2007, could do. The idea, or at least my take on it, is that those at the executive board can push the policy-making body to file a resolution regarding certain measures. Perhaps, I thought, it was just a mix-up blown out of proportion.

My sister was nice enough to arrange an interview between me and Vero; while she’s a Tapat supporter, she is (most importantly) a member of her batch assembly, and the two have worked together. I quickly started thinking up of possible questions, but that is the problem with covering something you don’t have a chance to personally see: you’re at a loss with ideas. It was something I ended up admitting to Vero that night.

“Forgive me,” I quipped over YM. “Kinakapa ko pa ang mga bagay.“

“Okay lang,” she answered. “No problem.”

As the interview dragged on, partly because her Internet connection was beginning to fail her, I realized that the thing I wanted to write about was a non-issue.

“[It] blew up because of a misunderstanding,” she said. “I think both parties were doing Q&As, and in one class, the other party said that Aimee and Nadia made a resolution regarding … priority enrollment. So when I heard it, sabi ko … I was the one who made a resolution on that. I even told the person who told me about it na I can show you the [resolution] now if you want proof.”

Turns out that, in the spirit of friends supporting friends, the misunderstanding went on the verge of being another who-did-what contest, something similar to last year’s letter exchanges. “[Someone then] sent a text message to a friend to clarify what the other party said,” she said. “She said naman na she didn’t mean to have it become the reason why there’s now an issue. Nagkataon lang na the people whom she sent the text message [to] sent it to other people as well. It’s already clarified that Aimee and Nadia did have a proposal on the priority enrollment though on it’s feasibility, we’re still unsure of.”

However, she wanted to clear that Aimee didn’t have a hand with the resolution. “It was already part of [the STRAW committee's] third term agenda,” she clarified. “Although she did make a proposal, the resolution was a sole undertaking of [FOCUS 2006 representative] Kat Cagalpin and myself. Kumbaga, we had two different means of solving a problem. She made a proposal, I made a resolution.”

Eventually, all Vero wanted was for the issue to die down, while at the same time, she can take credit for something that she did during her tenure as a LA representative. “I’d like to think na there was a misunderstanding between both parties,” she said. “I also have talked to [Santugon bet Lorenz de Castro] already, that same night. I think people thought there was actually a commotion pa nga ata when, in fact, we were just talking … I told him to please give me credit naman on the things that I have done … They claim that Aimee lobbied for the deadly weapons policy. Though this is true, lumalabas kasi na she can get all the credit for that when in fact it was Kat Cagalpin and myself who made the resolution. I just really want a fair game.”

At the back of my head, I realized that it is a non-issue really; I myself didn’t want to blow this thing up, especially since I still have to ask someone from Santugon to present their side to the issue. Even worse, as I pressed for further questions, Vero’s Internet finally died on her, and she sent a text message through her sister, apologizing. I thought that was the last I’d do about the issue.

Of course, the issue about priority enrollment is as big as, say, the return of the dress code and the moves to revamp the Student Council. I personally, however, can’t imagine the significance of the issue to the students, because I never found myself on the verge of losing my priority privileges – not that I’m showing off, but that’s how it went with me. In fairness, I thought there were merits to the proposal – students would be able to regain their priority enrollment privileges if they get a certain grade on the subject they failed – but there were a few questions.

One would be whether the ITC could keep up with the capacity. Priority enrollment serves as a reward of sorts to those who haven’t failed any classes, by giving them a first crack at available classes for the following term. The more people have this, the more chances there are that the university’s servers will crash – something that first-time enrollees obviously know. However, it’s something that the university is worrying about, partly because upgrades are an expensive undertaking.

Another would be how students would regain this privilege. Let’s say I failed two subjects. I retook both subjects, and got different results: I got a 1.0 on one subject and a 3.0 on another. If 2.5 is the minimum grade for me to regain such a privilege, what does that scenario mean for me? It’s the kind of nuance that could rip a proposal apart.

Again, the problem probably lay in the fact that students don’t know who did who. Both deeds – Aimee’s proposal and Vero’s resolution – happen behind the scenes, and the average student wouldn’t be able to learn about this. In the end, everyone is susceptible to what one party says, or ends up saying accidentally.

I got to work today and was surprised to see that the PinoyExchange thread gained three pages overnight, with people discussing the issue of priority enrollment. The inevitable happened: both parties are staking claims to the move.

I don’t know which party said what first, but I first read Tapat’s release. Actually, I don’t know if the party was behind the blog entry, or if it was just a supporter with access to current Student Council president Nicole Villarojo’s emails, which makes me wonder about it in the first place. (The entry that I saw, posted here courtesy of Monica Escalona, was attributed to incumbent trasurer Greggy Chua, although I didn’t see such a reference on what was posted on the forums.) “I am pretty sure a lot of Lasallians are confused as to what the truth behind the priority enrollment issue is,” the blog started. “Well, currently, a few people are claiming that it’s their achievement as an officer. I believe it’s about time people know the truth.”

What followed was a short email exchange between Nicole and University Registrar Edwin Santiago. The former asked about a recent proposal filed by a “certain office” which has apparently found its way to the Enrollment Committee. She also pointed out that she filed a similar proposal during her stint as a Legislative Assembly representative; apparently, “it was explained to [her] why the proposal could not be approved.”

Santiago responded by saying he does not remember such a proposal being filed either to the OUR, or to the EC, or to the VCAR Council (formerly the Council of Deans). He cited that they “decided on maintaining the status quo on priority enrollment” several years back. He also mentioned that the proposal was mentioned in passing at the beginning of this school year, although it was struck down since “there [have] been no substantive change in the considerations used at the time.”

The way I see it, it’s a move by Tapat – or, at least, by Tapat supporters – to proclaim that it is one of them who started efforts to bring back priority enrollment to those who lost it. I don’t know what the people on the floor have said about it, but predictably, Santugon won’t go down without a fight.

On the same pamphlet the yellows have given away in response to the dress code fiasco – to refresh, Aimee Chua was accused of having voted in favor of the rule set’s reinstatement, although it was clarified that the both her and Nicole were only entitled to one vote together, and their no vote was outnumbered by other university sectors – they angled to take claim for the priority enrollment issue. To make things more complicated, they’re claiming that the move has produced results.

“Aimee Chua and Nadia Ong … proposed that the students on the regular enrollment be given a chance to regain their priority status … given that they earn a grade of 2.5 or higher on the subject that they failed,” the statement said. The “substantive change” Santiago was looking for was, apparently, the move to give students priority status in the 16.00 enrollment slot, unlike the slots they are alloted to depending on what batch they’re in.

“This proposal has already been presented to the Office of the Vice Chancellor for Academics and is now currently being reviewed to be forwarded to the University Enrollment Committee,” it added. In the end, the obvious campaign spin: “Ito ay patunay lamang na makikipaglaban ang Santugon leaders para sa iyong kapakanan.“

From my perspective, that of someone who’s covering from far away, I can’t help but feel frustrated. I changed my Facebook status this morning in frustration, talking about two versions of the truth. Yeah, it’s the same point The Lasallian raised in their election special last year, and that still has the potential to confuse voters. Who, indeed, is telling the truth? Is the truth even out there? Obviously whatever’s being said by the parties are given the necessary make-us-look-good (or make-them-look-bad) spin, so it’s no longer objective. I even joked that a “third version” of the truth – hoenstly, I was referring to my blog entries – would complicate things further.

At this rate, it becomes inevitable that elections are becoming more of a battle of appeal rather than of achievements. There’s a reason for the big words, or the cute characters, or the intimidatingly nice presence. Not that everything being thrown around is empty – not everything in the campaigns is empty. The thing is, everything we hear has been tweaked to serve some interests, whatever they may be. And with students sadly ill-equipped to discern between them, are we sure that this exercise is even fruitful? As Adette responded on my Facebook status, “this is precisely the reason why people think voting’s a waste of time.”

Yes, I’m also aware that my mention of students being ill-equipped to figure things out would lead to a totally different discussion – we either need to change the system or change the regime, depending on who’s talking. Definitely, whoever’s talking has interests. You have the votes coming up tomorrow, both for who will represent you, and whether you agree with the proposal to change the Student Council’s structure yet again – this time, you don’t have a choice but to say you like it or you don’t. I remember my conversation with Monica after my botched interview with Vero: I quipped that I don’t know such things are happening, which is ironic considering I was a Student Council member. Her spin: that’s why we need to change the system.

Then again, if nobody has an idea about anything, how can this vote be of any use in the first place?

Niko Batallones graduated from the De La Salle University in 2008 with a degree in Communication Arts, and currently works as a writer for an American entertainment website. In his own words, he works as an “outsourced writer,” something he isn’t exactly fond of.

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