Ka-Blog!

There were very few gadgets in rural Isabela when I was growing up. (This was before I grew sideways).  I only remember my grandfather’s Remington typewriter—yes, those with green circular keys—which my father pounded like mad preparing countless office reports.  I was around six when I asked my father what he was doing and I never forgot his reply: I am earning money for our food, son.

       If I am asked which gadget I remember most, this typewriter is it.  I now know that it was my father’s gnarled hands which fed me and my siblings but I still look at that typewriter with, uhm, love.

       When I was in college, my mother bought me my own portable typewriter.  It had a black, hard plastic cover cum carrying case.  You know those.  It got me through my many undergrad thesis rewrites.  My first draft was actually kindly typed on a computer by my dear friend Jaz when she was still foolishly in love with this barber hating-guy Erel (who kept tagging along my whirlwind of a college social life—so you get the picture).  But the copy that San Beda College lib now keeps stares back at its many discerning readers on pica.

       I got introduced to many other gadgets when I became an activist/writer/propagandist.  I came to like Olympia brand typewriters as they were very easy to use.  The long barrels were also very useful for the mimeographing papers I begun to type on then.  From there, I was introduced to mimeographing machines by a dear comrade.  By the time he let me go, I could churn propaganda leaflets as fast as the professionals at Recto Avenue.  (This skill is now sadly lost even among activists due to the advent of risographs.)

       As CEGP’s media bureau chief, it was my task to prepare several copies of statements, news releases, letters to the editor and the like.  I would print them on dot matrix and take them on foot to the doorsteps of the scattered media outlets.  There were no fax machines then.  Only when I became spokesperson of ACT did I get to use fax regularly.

       Then beepers came.  This is when I first heard the dreadful word “techie”.  I had several side jobs then and I went through several models, from big pamato to oh-so-cute yellow ones with little and shiny chains in the vain hope that snatchers wouldn’t be able to touch them.  Happily, beepers came and went like the shawarma and Zagu stalls.

       Cellular phones came soon after.  The first one I bought was actually for my mom who insisted on being given a way to track our whereabouts.  It was a Nokia 100 analog phone with huge green letters on its two-liner LCDs.  Remember those?  It now rightfully spends its retirement days among my mother’s antique collection of brass irons, silverware and WWII Japanese monies.

       My first GSM phone was a Motorola.  My wife and I bought a pair because it was such a pain preparing for a church wedding and we needed to be in touch even if we were attending separate rallies.  We still keep them somewhere.

I now lost count how many cellphones I bought, lost and sold.  Lately, my wife handed me down her Sony Ericsson which has got Bluetooth capabilities, cameras, colored LCDs, cool games, polyphonic speakers and other blings.  Her new phone is so sexy it once got featured on the pages of FHM.  No deal, though.  Nokia 1100 is still the easiest phone to use while driving. (Grin.)

       I now wonder how my life is enhanced and controlled by gadgets. 

Among my favorite current gadgets is my Compaq Presario notebook.  It’s got an Intel Celeron Mobile processor and enough HDD room for my audio and photo editing tasks.  It keeps me connected to our volunteers past, present and future as well as our network of community radios worldwide.  It puts food on the table and gas on the tanks, as well.

My favorite laptop peripheral is a Targus wireless optical mouse.  It came as a freebie when I bought the notebook.  I actually had a choice between it and a webcam.  But I am not into video conferencing and internet sex (yet) so I opted for the former.  No regrets.  It is heavy but so ergonomically designed I hardly feel finger and hand cramps even after hours of audio editing work.

I also borrow my wife’s digital camera.  Before digital, I was heavily into photography.  I owned lots of manual cameras and even more lenses—from ultra wide to super telephotos.  My last camera is of the ill-fated APS family.  I do not take as many pictures now as I only delight myself with my wife’s pictures which are infinitely better than mine. (Check out my Romblon Blog—those pix are hers.)

My flash disc is very useful.  It’s been with me for at least a year.  It keeps almost all of my written outputs, some pix, even an oh-so-impressive resume`. Ahem.  I thought I lost it once only to be found by my favorite carwash boys on the car floor several weeks later.  I never knew how much I relied on the little thing until then.

       Just tonight, I bought an mp3/mp4 player.  It says iPod as its brand and it’s got a cute silver bitten apple, too.  But I got it so cheap and its manual was written in so typically Chinese English I have no choice but to admit I bought it from Quiapo.  (The manual reminds me of my students’ writing efforts.) But this newfangled thingy (yes, thingy because it’s so small and as thin as Ronalyn Olea) is such a wonder.  It’s on the gigabyte level, it’s got a colored LCD, it’s got a voice recorder, it’s got an FM radio tuner, it’s got games, and it plays videos, too.  Heeelllloooo, Paris Hilton!

       One thing about it, though, was that it was only available in pink or baby blue.

       I chose baby blue.  I have my reputation to protect, you know.