Trapped in Thailand.
It's quite surreal to hear news that you don't see personally. Every morning, we are bombarded by facts such as the continuous protest by the Opposition against the current Thai Prime Minister (PM). Much to their dismay, their attempt was put to vain because the PM entered the country from another airport. The effect though was disastrous: for two consecutive days, tourists are trapped in Thailand.
We, Pinoys, were experiencing nothing extraordinary. Heck, I was in Mendiola for three years, before I moved to Makati. The everyday sight of people protesting, chanting, and being pushed by local police makes me partially immune to news about protests. The weird thing is, in the main city, everything appears normal. Which, I guess, makes the whole thing surreal. Malls are still crowded and people are still shopping. Even the local version of tiangge (and its night market counterpart) is still flourishing. People, including us, are still fraught with high spirits to get the best price possible. In a certain way, inside looking out, it's quite funny how the international community thinks that we are at the brink of a political revolution.
Today, we decided to go into Thailand's National Museum. The only extraordinary thing that greeted us this morning was the traffic. Similar to Manila, traffic here is horrendous. The only good thing is, the taxi rate is not as horrifying as that of Manila's taxi cabs. You get trapped in a traffic and you get to pay around 80 Baht. I think it's not that bad considering that we are four in a taxi.
We still see military or police in certain areas, but business here is as usual. We even had to squeeze in and compete with a varied group of elementary and high school students inside the museum. I think if ever there is a National Tour Day in Thailand; today would mark that day. Hundreds of students dressed in their unusual uniform compete with our slight interest to know Thailand's history. Their uniforms are unusual because they match the colors of the taxicabs--yellow, orange, pink, violet, green, red. You name a color, and there might a school here somewhere with such colorful uniform.
Even at the local malls, there are students here on tour. We've been at the World Center where we had our lunch. When we moved to Siam Paragon, we were again flocked by students trying to eke their way out. They wore purple and green. If you complement them, you would have said they looked like an eggplant. So much for parallelism.
So, I guess, this is just as ordinary as any day would be. Except that we can't go out still.
poem no.
Leaves of temporary nostalgia
fall faster
when they are shaken
by thoughts of impunity
or disdain.
Then everything blurs,
like the droplets
that cling to the glass,
without knowing
that this will not pass.
Batman sucks.
The new Batman flick sucks.
Well, to begin with, I never liked the new Batman. Christian Bale looks like he had been deprived of food, sleep, and multi-vitamins for the past few years. He looks pale and underfed. Not to mention he makes this weird voice as Batman. I think the best Batman is still the first, Michael Keaton. Though I don’t think he is still fit to play the cape crusader 11 years after his Batman flick. My best friend Gie thinks that it is George Clooney. I think Clooney sucked, not to mention that the movie was a fart despite the presence of Uma Thurman.
Christopher Nolan’s movie is based on the extremes. He believes that society either has a choice to be good or bad. And that there is no in-between. Well, at least, that’s his premise for the first hour or so. It’s either you chose to be the one spreading chaos or act as the good guy who will save everybody else from the turmoil. The movie is about the proverbial clash between black and white, as if the gray spot is totally non-existent. It opens with DA Harvey Dent trying to capture every criminal in town and Commissioner Gordon’s vain attempt to side with Batman in instilling order. And then, there comes the Joker who wanted a “better breed of criminals” that the town deserves.
Fine, fine.
The blur between morality though is totally confusing, and being good or evil is not necessary based on a line that one draws. One cannot categorize a person evil because he has a white make-up and acts like a lunatic. There are middle grounds, which the movie tried to present at the end when Two-Face tried to do his thing. He was the pendulum that swings both ways, which could either be the best or the worst. I remembered in college that I quoted one philosopher in an essay, “Everyday is a chance to be better”. But my lovely, lovely professor, Ms. Laureen Velasco, added in red ink, “or worse.”
I never liked the movie except for The Joker, which I had apprehension before. The Joker in the comics is thin. So, I thought that the best man to portray the role would be Adrien Brody. He looks like the Joker in the comics. It was originally offered to him, but he fears of the so-called Joker curse. (This I heard from the grapevine.) He declined the role. Heath Ledger was way better than Jack Nicholson. I heart Nicholson and all of his funny, tragic movies. But I think Ledger made The Joker evil incarnate and not merely a funny slapstick of a villain.
The problem with the movie was the in-between. There were many scenes that were no longer important. They do not augment the story nor do they heighten my cinematic cravings. They were fillers for something great that did not happen. It was like those articles that we do in the college paper just to complete the 12 page issue, or else Chris (Chua, not Nolan) would remind us of the costs and all that money issues that go with it.
In the end, I liked Wanted more than The Dark Knight. The former was adrenaline rush magnified. It was fun, gory, and definitely entertaining. And it did not even try to be sorry for all the killings. Now, that’s what you properly call action.
the story, so far.
You were born, naïve and innocent. Then, you go to school.
You were schooled from pre-school until college. In pre-school, they taught how to color; how to sing; and how to develop your imagination. Which makes you question: Shouldn’t you stay in pre-school and stop analyzing Calculus and Trigonometry if you’ll not end up as Engineer or Mathematician?
In elementary, your English teacher would teach you how to pronounce A as in Apple; B as in Banana; C as in Cake, and so on. If she is dedicated, she would even teach you writing in Script to make your handwriting legible, or at least readable. If she is more dedicated (like my first grade teacher), she had a Johnson’s Baby Powder on her desk, which she will place on your back once you’ve finished recess. This would fend off the possibility of a stinking classroom.
You progressed to learn that the plural of tooth is teeth, but the plural of booth is booths, and not beeth. If you were lucky, you would have realized by third grade that oblivion and nonchalance were cool words to use, especially to those who do not know their meaning. If you were even luckier, you wouldn’t find Math difficult because your teacher would impliedly bribe you with chocolates whenever you get to finish word problems ahead of everybody else’s.
You became popular. But the popularity was not just because of your almost perfect grades, but because you were cute. You were everybody else’s secret crush. People would surreptitiously place notes in your bag, saying how cute you were, or how intelligent you were. You laughed at these notes, not realizing their true meaning.
Then, you went to high school.
Your once cute and angelic face was now fraught with zits. Gaining weight did not help you either. From the once thin geek kid, you were transformed into a fat ugly nerd. You took consolation from literature, science experiments, and math problems. You read everything, from Reader’s Digest Book of Facts to Salaguinto and other think Science mini-magazines that you have to pay yearly. Nobody thought you as cool anymore. You were fat. In this jurisdiction, that was not cool. Not even close.
High school was hell for you. The ones that previously wrote funny notes were not going after the high school varsity players. They try to befriend you only on the guise of borrowing notes or being with your group on experiments and research papers. They knew that you would do everything, and include their names on the list. They would get credit for doing nothing.
Nobody understood you, except your fellow geeks. You tried to be cool, but you knew that you failed miserably. Being cool was something that you don’t exert effort at. It’s either you have it or you don’t. And you knew, in the deep recesses of your heart, that you don’t. So, you just wished everyday that high school would end.
You graduated top of the class. You were accepted in three of the best universities in the country, armed with full scholarship. You were even accepted in two other good schools without even applying, also with full scholarship. You chose the public school at Diliman, but your parents thought that with a full scholarship, a private school would have been a better, more logical choice.
You chose the school at Taft.
College was suddenly a different experience. You were inside a class with equally impressive students. You have classmates from Zobel, Chiang Kai, UNO, Ateneo who were all part of the Top Ten of their graduating batch. The level of competition was stiff. You now have to excel so that you wouldn’t be devoured by their insatiable desire for excellence.
On the lighter side, you realize that life was not all about academe. You joined organizations such as the Debate Team, The LaSallian, COSCA, and even the Student Council. It was fun to meet different people with equally impressive traits and quirks. You realized that people in the Debate continuously hungered for knowledge and information. So, you read the history of Pakistan and Afghanistan. You read about the Taliban rule. Being around people from the publication would mean understanding the subtext and characters behind a great literature. You don’t just read Murakami for the love of it. You started to understand books and their sad and implied meanings. You appreciated Hard Boiled Wonderland’s “real” story on the right and “imaginative” story on the left.
Without even attempting to, you started to lose weight. It was a product of balancing your academic and non-academic duties—OJTs, theses, publication tasks, debate practices, and endless papers. You’re no longer the fat ugly nerd. You were now simply a nerd. The good thing was, everybody else was a nerd in his or her own right. You realized that you were finally part of something. Something good.
Then, there was law school.
Law school slapped you with an array of available opportunities. People you met were suddenly looking up to you, not in the old high school way. They would want to ask your opinion regarding the dissenting opinions in the case of Cayetano v. Monsod. You met your best friend. Someone who understood you without even having to say a word. Sometimes, you think if she probably knows you more than you know yourself.
You now lost so much weight that you had to perpetually shop for new clothes. People whom you see in the malls do not recognize you anymore. You even have to introduce yourself to them. And after that, an exclamation ensues about how much weight you’ve lost. And how you look better compared to your physique ten years ago. You just smile.
When you look back at the years you’ve spent, you realize that your life is exactly how you wanted it to be. It’s a product of your own choice. It was fraught with doubts, mistakes, and perpetual questions that may or may not be answered in this lifetime. But it was also a fun exhilarating ride.
It’s definitely far from perfect. But, it is the best gauge of how I want to be remembered.
It's quite surreal to hear news that you don't see personally. 
