tickledpink

Missing in Action -  A Chuck Norris starrer shot in the localities of Cavite, Pagsanjan and Luneta as Vietnam 1960’s by the Cannon tandem of Menahem Golan and Yoran Globus.

The Year of Living Dangerously - The streets of Manila as Jakarta, Indonesia during its turbulent 60’s with Mel Gibson and Sigourney Weaver under the direction of the renowned Peter Weir of the "Truman Show" and "Fearless".

Platoon - Cited as 1986’s most powerful film. This was shot in its entirety in the jungles of Pagsanjan and Cavite, directed by the critically acclaimed director, Oliver Stone.

Born on the Fourth of July - Take two for Stone embracing the country and its people as his lucky charms. The battlefield of Vietnam was replicated in the quaint town of Laoag, Ilocos Norte. Mexico was also duplicated in Vigan.

Noriega: God’s Favorite - The chameleon-like quality of the Philippines is proven once again through this film. Shot in 1998 with different locations within Metro Manila as South America, particularly Panama.

Thirteen Days - The Philippines as Cuba - not thru the wonders of computer technology but thru the versatility of the country’s cinematographic landscape & its people. Filmed in Clark
& in the jungles of Pagsanjan.

Apocalypse - The movie was filmed in the Philippines from March 1976 to May 1977 in Baler and Pagsanjan.  The country was chosen because the terrain was similar to Vietnam.

Brokedown Palace - The story’s provocative nature made it impossible for the filmmakers to shoot in Thailand. After extensive scouting throughout southeast Asia, the production decided to shoot in the Philippines.

An Officer and a Gentleman - The plot revolves around Zachary Mayo (Richard Gere), son of a Navy sailor who grew up in the Philippines with his father after his mother died (we find out why later in the film).

Hamburger Hill - It was the bloodiest battle of the Vietnam War.  The death toll was so high that the survivors named the hill "Hamburger Hill." Shot in the Philippines, "Hamburger Hill" looks and feels authentic.

Too Late the Hero - Filmed on location in the Philippines, Suicide Run is the alternate title of the British war thriller Too Late the Hero.

Kiss the Sky - Plot Summary: Two professionals, Jeff and Marty, take a business trip to the
Philippines. Their deep dissatisfaction with their lives leads them to forsake their friends and families.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/richpub/listmania/fullview/1AHDDRD9PU17H/102-8469882-4641734?%5Fencoding=UTF8

• in the movie cat in the hat, the cat arrives in a box marked "made in the philippines"
• in the movie constantine, the opening scene shows a possessed Filipina girl, who says, "Papatayin natin sila…"
• in the movie stealth, a scene is set in the philippine sea
• dennis rodman’s father lives in the philippines

DId you know….? The ticket agent in Boston who checked in suicide bombers Atta and Alomari for the last leg of their flight committed suicide.

     9/11 was
as stunning as tragedies could get. I
nearly lost a loved one by a hairline that day. My uncle and his wife, who lived in Georgia,
were in
to visit his wife’s brother. They were
in the lobby waiting for an elevator to take them up the World Trade Center when the first plane hit.  They’re on their second life now, they say.
    Many weren’t as lucky as they were. The whole world mourned those whose lives
were lost and the families they left behind. But what most people outside the United States did not know was how
another tragedy unexpectedly evolved out of an innocent move to help the
surviving families of the honorable firemen who died heroically in the
crumbling towers. This chilling story I
learned from the Oprah show  Extreme Breakups.

      Firefighters develop a sense of
brotherhood – a unique bond, which extends to their families. In the wake of 9/11, the NY Fire Department
urged firefighters to assist the wives and children of their fallen comrades. What happened next is unfathomable and as
tragic as 9/11 itself.

Susan and Mary never imagined their marriages to hero
firefighters would end—or that their stories would become scandalous
front-page headlines. After the terrorist attacks of September 11, many
New York City firefighters were assigned to help families who had lost
a loved one. Mary and Susan say that their husbands began to spend more
time with grieving widows than with their own families, and now their
husbands have left to begin new lives with these women.

Susan says that her husband of 19 years left her for a 9/11 widow.
Initially, she thought it was a good thing that the father of her four
children was helping another family. "I thought he was taking care of
them as a group, not one person singly. I didn’t lose my husband and my
children didn’t lose their father [in the 9/11 attacks], so how could I
stop him from helping these friends of ours?"

On
the eve of the first anniversary of 9/11, Susan says John called it
quits and moved out. "When it happened, I couldn’t sleep at night. I
couldn’t deal with it at all. I thought our marriage was forever. He
promised to love me until death do us part. It’s his loss—a big, big
loss. He had a beautiful family here, and he chose to leave."

Like Susan, Mary says that her husband then began an affair with a 9/11
widow. "I had felt like Jerry was cheating on me with his heart very
early on. He was at her house every single day. He got her through
Thanksgiving. Then it was Christmas. Then it was New Year’s. And he
told me I couldn’t go to the parties with him because he needed to
escort Madeline there. I said, ‘Gerry. We’re married.’

"People
look at us and say, ‘Well, you were the lucky one. Your husband
survived.’ I was very grateful that my husband survived that day, but
he never came back to us."

We are both valedictorians, have
straight long black hair, carry similar genes, and have the same bra size. But that’s about where the similarity
ends. She likes attending big social
gatherings; I prefer private parties. I
declined the offer to run as school council president; she ran and won. I ran away from campings (even crying my way
out of one in junior year); she ran after them and went on to become Ms. Senior
Camper. She was a CAT officer; I was a
CAT officer escort. She experiments with
her clothes while I’m a boring jeans-and-shirt gal. I was the high school
editor in chief; she was Prom Queen and Ms. Fitness. We’re like day and night, and I’m not exactly
jumping up and down in glee when she borrows my clothes, but hell, she’s my
only sister and I can bloody do zilch about it.

He’s more inclined to rap and r
‘n b; I’m an alternative & rock chick. He watches a lot of basketball; I can watch some, too, but not when
Oprah’s on at StarWorld. I don’t like it
when he puts too many games in the PC and I have to worry when the PC bogs
down. I reach boiling point every day
when I answer the phone a gazillion times and it’s his girlfriend at the other
end of the line. We get into shouting
matches at the slightest provocation, but hell, she’s my only brother and I can
bloody do zilch about it.

She used to bash my head with a
pillow when I was too sleepy to study in grade school. She’d bound my hands and stuff my mouth with
a shirt when I cried my lungs out. She’d give me a tongue-lashing at home when
she would see me alone, talking to a group of boys in school. She forced me to join activities in high
school. I hate the sound of her voice
when she wakes me up in the morning. I
hate it when she makes scenes in public. I hate her paranoid streak when it
comes to girls, boys, and sex. We don’t
agree on a lot of things, but hell, she’s my only mother and I can bloody do
zilch about it.

He figures in fiascoes, in every
which way, on a regular basis. He has a
temper that’s not easy to match. He
screams at you so loud you get traumatized even when he’s mad. He hates money – so bad that he can’t stand
keeping it longer than a day. He’s a
one-day millionaire. He bets in
cockfight and wins big, then either spends it all or loses it the next day. He’s a natural at weaving stories and
spinning you around his fingers. He’s a
huge pain in the arse, but hell, he’s my only father and I can bloody do zilch
about it.

five years and counting… yep,
that’s how long i’ve been forced to endure his company. but i’ve survived,
and i think i can handle a few years more. hehe. now, i simply love: his voice,
his bad temper behind the wheel, his cute little that’s-me-in-the-corner dance,
how he understands French better than Filipino, his voluptuous belly, his slick hand at table tennis, how
he knows the name of every single animal on this planet(!), how you’ll have to
drag him wailing like a baby to see a tagalog movie, his greatness at
web-designing, how he keeps bugging me to stay off the couch, his “no-problem”
attitude, his love for his family, his burning
desire to help everyone in need, and how he’ll pay me later for saying all
these awesome compliments. :))love u babe.

     I first saw light on the
nineteenth of January in the year of our Lord, 1985. I was the bundle of blessing that
strengthened the bond between Dennis and Josefina. Three years, four months, and twelve days
later, Reena Elena arrived as a pleasant addition to the now growing family. Three years, four months, and twelve days later, Juris Dee completed the
God-given package.

     St. Joseph’s Academy was
where my formative years fashioned and geared me toward a competitive academic
edge. I moved to Saint Louis School as I began a new phase of harder challenges. There, I established an identity for myself and made an indelible mark
in the pages of time.

     I
am socially inept. I am uncomfortable
and feel lost when I am thrust into meeting new people. Perhaps my love for books should take the
blame. Books are my sanctuary. For one whole summer, I woke up early each
morning and rushed to my grandmother’s house where over two hundred books
awaited me, their now-yellowed pages beckoning me to uncover their unbidden
pleasures. I seldom went out as a kid,
not even to parties next door. Though I
may be at the age when I am expected to prowl the disco clubs of the city, I
have never gone to a single one. I do
not smoke nor drink, nor plan to.

     I
am a t.v. buff. I’d rather stuck alone
at home with the tube. I once cried over
missing an episode of Ally McBeal and The Pretender.

      I
like music a lot. Even tried my hand at
it. First the guitar, then drums. But it was short-lived. I had more success being a couch potato than
a musician.

       I’m
the kind of person that goes deeper than face value. Over the years, I’ve found myself to be quite
straightforward and candid. I demand
honesty. I welcome the pain that is the
price for truth. A bullet in the head for
me, is better than a dagger in the back.

     I
am inquisitive. I am a dreamer at
heart. A young heart waiting to get its
fair share of the world ahead.

     *I’ve never written anything in Filipino save for school assignments.  This one i wrote in senior highschool.  I think the instruction was to  write a short paragraph using sentences that had no subject, only the predicate. I guess I really loved it that i kept it and found it among my old stuff that i just threw away today.  I think it’s a really decent attempt at good Filipino literature ….:)

     Umuwing
maluha-luha si Miko bago mag-takipsilim. Nakayuko. Ayaw magsalita. Walang imik. Nagmano lamang at sandali’y pumasok na sa kanyang silid. Nagtinginan ang mag-asawang Noel at
Nena. Akmang tumindig si Aling Nena mula
sa kanyang upuan ngunit pinigilan siya ng tinig ng asawa. “Hayaan mo na, Nena. Binata na ang ating anak. Hayaan mong harapin niya ang kasawian at
kalungkutan bilang isang lalake.” Pagkasabi’y lumabas sa terasa si Mang Noel. Dumukot ng tabako at nakatanaw sa malayo.

I will finally have the time to

            take
swimming, driving, and biking lessons

experience Bora

            play in Enchanted Kingdom

watch The Godfather series

reread Harry Potter

crochet till my knuckles get cranky

clean up my mailbox

burn my accounting books

I remember reading about female circumcision in some novel I found in my aunt’s shelf when I was 13 or 14. I recall discussions among friends on how women were luckier than men for not needing to be circumcised. I would tell them women were circumcised in ancient times. They didn’t believe me. From this Oprah show, Jane Fonda on Sanctioned Violence Against Women, I became acquainted once again with female circumcision, but this time, I heard the story from the real women who suffered from it.  Sadly though, I was wrong.  FGM is NOT an ancient ritual. It continues to hound helpless women in some parts of the world.

Africa is a continent with rich cultural tradition, but one ancient
ritual has wounded an estimated 130 million girls. Female Genital
Mutilation (FGM), or female circumcision, evolved out of the belief that
a woman’s sexuality should be controlled. The procedure involves cutting
off the clitoris and sometimes sewing the opening of the vagina shut.
Often performed with unsterilized razors and no anesthesia, FGM is
excruciatingly painful. Not only do women experience intense bleeding,
dangerous infections, and possibly infertility—they also carry emotional
scars that may never heal.

"Mary" is from West Africa. When she was
12 years old, five men held her down and cut her genitals with a dull,
dirty razor blade. The pain, she says, was so intense that she couldn’t
eat, drink, or speak; even to this day, it’s painful for Mary to
urinate. When her village threatened to cut her daughter, Mary sought
and received asylum in the United States.

Fauziya Kassindja had a happy
childhood growing up in Togo, a country in West Africa, but her father’s sudden death
left her in
the hands of traditional-minded relatives. They arranged for 17-year-old
Fauziya to marry a man 30 years her senior—and to undergo FGM. Only
hours away from being cut, Fauziya escaped and left the
country. After waiting 16 months for asylum, she finally became free.

          source: http://www.oprah.com/tows/pastshows/tows_2000/tows_past_20000929_d.jhtml