First Impressions

The Daily Post

Every time I open a new post, I re-write the first sentence at least five times, delete it, and finally come back to it. What’s the big idea? The introductory sentence in a blog post is arguably the most important. Its sole purpose is to lead visitors into reading the rest of your post with its succinct and captivating tone.

When writing the introduction to your post, keep in mind that this is your post’s first impression. What can you do to make your post lead, or lede for the journalists in the crowd, stand out?

  • Keep it simple. An ideal lead is about 35 to 40 words long and only a sentence or two. If you write too long of a lead, you may lose some of your readers. Instead, you want to grab their attention as quickly as possible.
  • Be creative. My favorite leads often pull…

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Imelda Challenge

Carlos Celdran’s climactic tweets and news about Art Dubai profusely resonated to my conundrum. “I have to see Imelda,”                            I challenged myself. Minutes later Carlos announces in his Facebook account a barter tour. I conceded to the challenge,

“It’s meant to be.”

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I phoned my guy friends. Nada. I textploded  my colleagues. Zero response. I phoned my ever-supportive-lady friend slash photographer slash partner-in-crime slash Yaya to come with me.  She said yes without a guess. The status of the challenge: Exclusively Dating.

‘3pm at the Gift Shop,’ made the date.  On the way to the site I cannot make heads or tails if this was really taking place. I waited for months just so the monotonous trimester schedule would break. This tour was opening my summer vacation perfectly but exciting events cause me to be delayed. Like a hungry pizza delivery customer, I hate late. But this challenge was way out of my league, says Fate. I was about forty minutes late. Just so great! “It’s Complicated,” announced the friendly update.

We fished our way up and down the ghostly interiors of CCP. Haplessly we planted each step so purposeful just for sheer experience; onto the inner chamber of the taciturn macabre centre have we found a legion of foreigners. I almost broke to the song, “This is it! I finally found…” until my olfactory senses suggested an antithetic confirmation; yes, the famous European Paputok.Challenge advisory: I prefer domestic partnership.

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I snugly sat on the floor among the giggling crowd and listened to the zoetic Charles Celdran. Juju started kodaking the porenjers.  Just as the ambiance was getting cozier he decided to call, “Walk this way,” and danced all the way with a PA system on hand to the Tanghalang Nick Auditorium where Conspicuous Imelda Epoch was juxtaposed to Imperialism.  I am not new to the main auditorium; I always go there for a foodie call to nibble on culture but there was something different. His non-periphrastic dialogues rhapsodized to the freak of me; maybe because his massive clear folder almost slammed my face. Maybe it was not a mere political performance.  Perhaps he was just being real. Undoubtedly, I was losing the challenge.

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The artist took us to the lobby of the Cultural Center and endowed me a heavy notion, ‘Democracy is not a one-size-fit-all form of government;’ this made me at war with my alter ego. In my mind, I was having a strident debate in the tune of Mariah Carey’s All By Myself. How melodiously democratic.

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Tourists hopped into the jeepney bound to  PICC. While on board I noticed construction sites have been up around that area lately. I read a painted, “SLOW MEN WORKING,” on a ply wood as a caveat. I pondered. Down was the word lacking.

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To fittingly tell you, I do not think this Imelda tour is all about Imelda. The tour is not about glamorizing Imelda and celebrating her landing in a Dictionary. I think it is about Me. It is about you and me being shaped by the Society and shaping the Society in reciprocal.

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It is about you and me being shaped by the Society.

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In reciprocal, it is about shaping our Society.

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Equipped with Army Navy’s burritos, we had our version of his Sunset Alert. The sun that afternoon had a modest performance, like Carlos Celdran’s flight burgeoning like the final night fading into light.

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 Challenge won.

Impotent Potence

Voice. You think of American Idol whenever that five letter word is interjected. Fine, The Voice would’ve been more logical. Yet, a guy does not have to be white and possess an acoustic guitar to show-off his alluring tenor. Heck. Ladies don’t even need Mottola for their soprano to be advertised.

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 We owe it to the Social Media: Facebook, Twitter and sometimes Tumblr. These words are not even in a lexicon yet deemed as potent tools to spread a campaign, a movement, a gossip better than the reach of the tsismis couriered by Manang Labandera.

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In the Philippines with the population of over 92 million; around 30 million have access to internet, and 28 million can access social networks. As usual, we hold the record for longest time spent on the web as netizens. Other countries often quip us as highly sociable. We would trek mountains high and low just to click that red alarming notification.  FTW, right? The majority of Filipino netizen is aged below 23 years old. The median age of Filipinos is unsurprisingly also 23 years old.

The question is: Do the 23 year olds have voice?

Maybe they are better off ROFLing in 9gag. Because who would dare listen to a 23 year old’s opinions and advocacies? I doubt if he had ever get RTed in Twitter on his views about the recent Impeachment. How much more in RH Bill?

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I never thought of bringing up the matter until I found a 7 month old fetus wrapped in my very own shower cap in our toilet.  That berserk night social media not only became a tool to vent a traumatic incident. For mercies sake I wanted to change the world through my finger tips. I thought of starting a blog to throw my message across; to educate, motivate and inspire. Yes, I am in marketing; I can do that. But I am not Carlos Celdran, or Tweetnirizal or Ann Curtis who actually have voices. Fine. Maybe Ann Curtis spoiled my illustration. Not maybe.

Siriously Ill

Have you ever feared ignorance? I always have. A healthy learned man would be declared clinically dead as a result of complications of that malady; this realization has sedated me. Contagious eternal ignorance, this disease I gravely feared. My friends, today we are going to witness who among the two age categories are most likely to be candidates of this malignant disease: adolescent or obsolescent. Not only do we say early detection is the best prevention but we will also cite a treatment appropriate to the determined patient.

A symptom showed by the first group of candidates is called passing follies. Youth, in our quintessential state is foolish and compulsive; good news, this too is passing. The passing follies of the adolescent are devoted by her; her sweet diction, the crisp texture of her voice, her credibility with regards to the knowledge of the world. I feel my heart rate speeding with her matchless wits. It’s official; I’m in love with Siri and the level of technology she represents.

SIRIously, technology has greatly advanced the adolescents’ learning; as proponents to it, we have learned to play by its game. Mark Zuckerberg, a College student has become the fountain of innovation.  SIRIously why would I prefer to seek advice from my folks when they blurt, “Pao, halika,” whenever they need to copy/ paste a simple text? This is the exact situation when my mutual relationship with Siri takes the upper-hand.

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(reason why naggy rhymes with Siri)

 

Teenagers are not the ill-trained ignorant patients that adults have reckoned to be disabled without the ever-present companion of iPods; or at least, please capsulate us in chic Jimmy Choo while fiddling our BBs.  We do know about strategies; youngsters refer to budgeting by strategizing how to squeeze myriad resources to just a 2500 limit of daily caloric expenditure with regards to our strict diet. Like the adults, we also talk about business acumen. There’s only one kind of ignorance that do frighten us though: ignorance of shopping sale madness. Being caught in this life threatening event would declare us clinically dead. Our total swag depends on designer diffusion lines as this would save us our health. You guessed it: Demeanour. That’s our second most powerful source of medication; sharp and crisp demeanour.

 

Speaking of demeanour, that fancy French word; allow me to spiel about my little French affair. So there was this 6’2 French guy whose physique, lifestyle and philosophies; whose total swag I totally dig. Until one day, he told me, “You are young.” That moment, I felt like I needed a tranquilizer; he continued, “Stop relying on books.” He rubbed it in as if it’s the most important thing I need when all I needed was more than resuscitation but a revival before I am announced to be clinically dead, “Learn from experience.” That was it; I needed to but in, “We’re not talking about a decade age gap here, right?” so much for my cardiovascular condition.

I accuse him of having a ‘fleeting passion’ condition. Fleeting passion is a symptom that frames our second age groups as candidates to the disease: ignorance.  Our age gap is nine short years. I don’t think that’s a huge enough difference to accuse me of being, “young.” Then I asked myself if I would really be able to keep up. Studies revealed that older does mean wiser: The older brain has experience. We now have neurobiological evidence showing that with age comes wisdom and that as the brain gets older it learns to better allocate its resources. So he was right, “experience,” does make a big difference.

 

Granted the facts by the diagnostics we have reached the moment of reckoning, adolescents are likely to be candidates of the malady called ignorance. The treatment is simple: introspection. People learn more from their experience when they spend time thinking about them.

Studies also show that introspection is a proponent to intrapersonal intelligence which contributes to our wisdom. The adolescents’ passing follies and obsolescents’ fleeting passions gap can be bridged by having the wisdom of the old and the passion of the young on a balance.

Now that we know the prospects of this contagious ailment and have discussed the possible solution to it; the question is, “Will the youth introspect?” Only in pausing from this ultra-fast paced lifestyle and masticating our experiences to bits can we gain wisdom. After all, experience is the best teacher, “Will you listen to her?”

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(Yes, I do, “Dear Diary..”)