absurdity at its finest

Trapped in Thailand.

2008-12-03T16:51:00.004+08:00

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.

2008-09-11T03:26:00.000+08:00

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.

2008-07-22T14:17:00.006+08:00

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.

2008-07-04T16:10:00.002+08:00

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.

poem no. 1

2006-10-18T03:13:00.000+08:00

I fall gently,
akin to the unknown leaf
in the midst of the forest.
and I wait fervently,
for the eager fawn
to drown me with his solitude,
before the ants sprawl
into my existence.
or before the earth consumes
my very essence.

tribute to my chairman.

2006-10-02T01:59:00.001+08:00

(June 24, 1974-September 30, 2006)

La Sallian. Bedan. AAA Chairman.

Dear Kuya Kiko,

I have always been fascinated by your enthusiasm to commit yourself in any of our activities. Alliance for Alternative Action (AAA) has been more than an organization to you, no matter how trite that statement seems. It appears that you derive pleasure and delight from extending any form of assistance to all its members, whether consciously or unconsciously done.

I have always seen you as a leader. You were strong yet never imposing. You were my Chairman when I joined the organization, back then when I was still a bumbling newbie, totally unfamiliar with the rigors of law school. Your skills, along with the other officers’, proved to be beneficial to my (and I dare say, our) stay in the corridors of San Beda.

I have been amazed with your ability to continue planting the seed of growth even after your San Beda days. You stood your ground sans the Chairman title, but with the same intensity and passion to continue the legacy that our organization has stood for. Your presence was felt during our activities, yet you continued to be a potent force even after these activities have ended.

I have pointed out your competitive side, twice to be exact. Once, for wanting to score a higher point in the videoke compared to mine. Second, for accepting too much workload, even if it means your body might not be able to handle the stress. You had a fanatical belief in accomplishing everything, even if such bordered on absurdity or impossibility.

I have always seen you as stubborn, yet dedicated. You were eager to learn, but more eager to share it with others. Your zeal and love for our organization is beyond compare, a trait that I think is more than worthy of emulating.

I have always held you in high esteem, not because you have been in the top ten of your graduating batch. The respect is not due to the titles of ATTY and CPA placed before and after your name. You have been respected by friends, peers, colleagues, and subordinates because you know what you want in life and you definitely know how to get it. And in the entire process, fight hard to achieve it.

You shall forever be my Chairman, even in the afterlife.

Mike
2 October 2006

the best of what's around.

2006-09-22T23:58:00.000+08:00

Few minutes from now, I’ll celebrate my birthday.

Another year to behold. Another year to look forward to. It’s been quite a year, for me. I made decisions, some would call rash or just plainly stupid. And I would not deny that. I made bold decisions, not necessarily, for the best, but because I felt my ego was trampled upon. Or that I do not deserve such treatment.

People told me that one of my decisions, at its best is immature, and at its worst is damaging. Changing a law school that does not have any name or any famous alumnus is not a good option. It is merely an option if there is no other recourse. They believe that my decision will not do me good.

Then again, is there a decision that stems from a perfectly laid-out plan? Plans, as much as we would want to fool ourselves, are simply the things that we believe best suit us for a specific time. In every plan, there goes with it the concepts of risks. That’s the reason why people are now considering risk management as a lucrative career path. People would want to minimize the possibility of the adverse effects of taking risks.

But life is not always about safe zones. People could very well live in their comfort zones, but life would be bland and monotonous. Unless, of course, they think that monotonous is the epitome of cool.

So, this year, as another calendar is ripped, and another year marks my immaturity, I hope that life would be (a bit) less complicated.

As if.

the truth about independence.

2006-09-21T19:38:00.000+08:00

Independence is a tricky thing.

On the one hand, you are slapped with an array of available options. There is always a room for error, as the usual checks and balances are absent. There is a great liberty on every action for the normal prior restraints are merely concepts. On the other hand, too much freedom could be disconcerting, even tiring at times. Simple things that have been sources of mirth are non-existent. That usually serves as the pay-off for the unbridled freedom.

The good thing is, you could go home anytime. No one would remind you of curfews. This rule applies to any time of the day, and any day of the week. You could study in a coffee shop up to the wee hours of the morning without regard to whoever will open the gates. There are no blabbermouth relatives, loudmouth siblings, or nagging moms.

Curfew’s one thing. Allowance is another. There is much leeway on how to spend your allowance. It’s similar to a hard-earned monthly salary, except the hard-earned part. You don’t have to answer to arrogant superiors. You are not required to sound calm to irate or stupid clients. And you don’t have to literally drag yourself to the office every single day. Being given an amount twice than that of the minimum wage is also not bad.

The bad part is, there’s nobody to help you around. You cook (or buy your meals); do the laundry; budget your month’s money; or settle the bills. There is no one to wake you up. There is no househelp to clean your room or wash your clothes. Or a driver to bring you anywhere. You can’t expect a breakfast in bed. Paella, prawns, blue marlin are offered only in the nearest restaurant, but the exorbitant prices would make you stick with your daily recommended fastfood intake. Up until the time that you’d throw up from too much fastfood junk.

You also wake up every day seeing no one. In the morning, you can’t have coffee-, tea-, or milk-chat with a sentient being. The best thing that you could do is to knock at your friend’s door. And hope for the best. That is, if your friend is also a student, a bum, or an artist. If you’re lucky, you’ll have someone to share the morning with. If you’re unfortunate, which happens most of the time, you’d have to do other things to keep you busy. Or sane.

The funny thing is, at 16, you would want to get out of your parents’ house. If you’re from the province, you’re lucky if you are enrolled in a school in Manila. This means a new environment free from the control and supervision of your folks. This is lost, however, on the fact that when you reach the age of 24, you would want to be with someone. To do the exact things you would have escaped, frowned upon, or hated at 16. Then, you realize just how insane this universe could get. Or how ironic its sense of humor could be.

I have to stop writing now. I have to fetch my mom from the airport tomorrow morning. Weird, I actually feel giddy.

that familiar space.

2006-07-16T02:27:00.000+08:00

The thought of leaving old spaces creates an empty feeling of isolation. The act of actually moving into unfamiliar territories could sometimes be unimaginable.

There are times when we get accustomed to certain things. Someone said that familiarity breeds contempt. But the truth is, it does not happen all the time. There are times when we love being in a certain place. No matter how recognizable the place (or thing) has become, we still love being around that place. For no particular reason aside from that innate feeling.

For two years, I have enjoyed my room. It’s relatively spacious. There are two beds in it; one for me, and the other for my non-existent room mate. The room is fraught with cabinets, drawers, and other compartments that clog up the entire space. Still, I love it.

The thought of leaving it and finding a new one makes me shiver, but in a good way. The last few lines were taken from a crappy song. But, honestly speaking, I have appreciated my room. It provides me with a feeling of familiarity. It gives me a good reason to go home. It is my sanctuary from the mad world that I am in.

I have made acquaintances here. Some people, I barely know, but give the customary nod. Others, I smile with whenever we see each other elsewhere. Some, I even talk with. They are not in my category of buddies, but still their presence signifies a certain feeling of easiness.

Like most good things, it will come to an end. I might transfer within the week, within the month, or within the year. But, the cramped room will always remind me of many things. Some are fleeting and forgettable, while others are memorable and unexpected.

And when the day comes wherein I have to pack my things, I might just sleep in the middle of my crowded space. Then, reminisce. Then probably, talk to myself. Then, just close my eyes, while wishing that this might not be happening.

oh, that one?

2006-06-26T02:58:00.000+08:00

There are things that we thought we could do, but we fail miserably in our attempt. Sometimes, it’s not just a case of being frail or being afraid to accomplish it. There are times when the magnanimity of the task falls not as a challenge, but as a burden. Indeed, the thought that conquering the difficult, if not the impossible, is comforting, reassuring, and even exciting at a certain times. But, there are occasions when these things falter to convince our senses to continue. If we succumb to such mentality, should we already consider ourselves as losers?

There ought to be a demarcation line between doing the impossible for the love of it and doing it as a sign of stupidity. Of course, nobody would admit the authenticity of the latter, unless one impliedly acknowledges his or her lack of mental capacity. In this regard, is it possible to simply accede to circumstances due to lack of control over things?

One could say that this line of thinking is preposterous. How is it possible that one could not have control over his or her actions? Is it really possible to be at the brink of defeat without first exhausting all available and viable options? The answer might be a resounding yes. Let me explain, in another thread. It’s already too late. (And it’s a bit boring. None of you would even care to read it) =P

of varying pespectives.

2006-06-20T18:40:00.000+08:00

The ones closest to us, the people who know us inside out, are the ones who could destroy our self-esteem or challenge the values that we hold dear. They might not even know it, but there are certain things that they do (wittingly or unwittingly) that make us question the very essence or foundation of our personality. From then on, everything is different.

Somebody said that, “I think one step ahead of my enemies, and two steps of my friends.” I guess the degree of such statement is best reflected on how the decisions, choices, and statements of our friends, family members, or relatives totally affect us. More often than not, these people could either establish our reputation or destroy it. But I do not mean that they do these acts with the intention of putting us into the proverbial quick sand.

The point of the matter is, when these people tell us the truth, it often hurts. It pierces the very fabric of our soul. They know what to expect from us, and when they do tell something that is very crucial to our existence, we could easily crumble. Make that, we easily crumble. We fall into our knees, sob like a child, and examine the choices that we have made.

The worse part is, sometimes people do it unknowingly, just in one of those moments wherein they say things nonchalantly. They continue to yak without comprehending the impact of their words on the recipient, thinking that they know the person well. That their words are simply outbursts of their current psychological state. And the person on the other end should simply realize that these are irrelevant, or at least, just an outburst. And nothing else.

The problem, like most things, is on the interpretation. People receive pieces of information or shards of facts on varying degrees. Even if the person might utter the words in a seemingly irrelevant tone; the other might perceive it as the universal Truth, withholding all other information, in the process. The bad part is, both build up emotional walls that are too complex for one party to realize the effects on the other. And, vice versa.

In the end, things might never be the same again.

there's something to celebrate.

2006-06-18T00:00:00.000+08:00

My earliest recollection of my dad was when I was around three or four. I was sickly then so my dad resorted to various tricks to ensure that I receive my daily recommended dietary allowance. In short, he guaranteed that I ate meals. I vividly remember the cheap airplane tactic wherein my dad would play with the spoon, similar to an aircraft, while uttering, “Here comes the fighter plane.” That and many others made my everyday eating more fun.

When I was seven, I remembered that I woke up in the middle of the night because the electricity went out. I can’t sleep. I was literally tossing and turning on the bed. My dad, hearing the noise, went to my room and decided to fan me until the electric fan started working again. I can’t remember how many hours my dad had to endure, but I guess it also took a while knowing how terrible brownouts were during those days.

These memories, along with many others, have already been embedded in my mind, as pieces of a big puzzle. They serve as a representation as to what my father would do for his family. There are even fragments of this puzzle that to a five or ten year old kid would sound ludicrous, but to a grown up man would be commendable. Things like waiting for my mom until 10 PM so that we could all share dinner together. Or patiently driving me to school even if I was already in my Fourth Year. Or filing a leave just to personally put on the medal during Recognition Day.

My dad is still the typical dad—quiet, aloof, conservative, and definitely not perfect. But, he loves to tell stories about people’s struggle, their accomplishments, failures, and the values that they hold dear. He thinks that through stories people could enlighten themselves as to what to expect from the world, and in the process, be a bit ready, if not totally prepared. He used to worry a lot, thinking that the burden of the world rested on his shoulder akin to Atlas. Lately, he is beginning to be more laidback, enjoying what the world could offer. He is also starting to be less bothered about events and things, even becoming more optimistic and calm compared to previous years.

Similar to most fathers who leave tidbits of valuable considerations, my dad loves to educate me about life in general. Perhaps, the greatest lesson that I’ve learned from my father was the importance of education. He single-handedly raised his nine younger siblings after his father died. He was responsible for their schooling, despite having a family of his own at that time. He believes that through education, a man could aspire for a better life. Though some of his siblings turned out to be disappointments, he never looked at them with a stern face and heavy heart. He had already paved the way for a better opportunity, filling the proverbial half of the pie. The other half must come from them, which some of them obviously failed to accomplish.

He is a man of values. He once said to me that there is no point in becoming great or wealthy, if one loses his soul in the process. Despite charisma, fame, and an obvious connection with people, he could not be considered as the perfect politician. He will never steal from the treasury, and let his family spend using the taxpayers’ money. If he enters politics, he might die old, poor, and miserable. There is still within him the man who wants to change the world, but would not want to be part of the distorted system.

I guess my dad is just an ordinary man trying to make an extraordinary life. It might be cliché to say that he has touched many people’s lives. Whenever I see former students, colleagues, or friends who visit our house and thank him for being a brilliant teacher, sincere adviser, or just a wonderful person, I know that he has indeed affected their lives in various ways. Funny thing is, he might not even have an inkling about it; or if he does, he might not even consider this.

Despite his frailties, he has indeed made a mark. By using such term, I mean, the indelible print that stays on to a person’s heart forever. The kind that is synonymous to gratitude and respect.

***

P.S. If you are wondering about the graphics, my dad was born on the Year of the Rooster. And we have this rocking chair in our patio where he normally sits at the end of the day to drink coffee, read books, or have a conversation with my mom. The image taken from this somehow reminds me of my dad.

tribute to a glorious past.

2006-06-15T00:36:00.000+08:00

The stretch resonates the feel of an old forgotten empire buried into the pits of temporary melancholy. There is nothing special in it, today. Perhaps, five decades ago, people would declare otherwise. In a fit of madness, things, however, suddenly collapsed, along with people’s nostalgia and buried memories with it.

The structure is unmistakably elegant, even majestic during its heyday. There are still traces of its sophistication, but not readily conspicuous. It takes a careful eye to realize the beauty lurking within its edifice. For those fortunate enough, its radiance could prove overwhelming.

It used to be more than a building. It represented the glorious days of the country, where literature, passion, and learning were given prime emphasis. It was a tribute to a country on the road to progress. At its best, it showed us what we are capable of. At its worst, it was a reminder of how things ought to be. Similar to many forgotten structures, it is now a shaky reminder of our colorful heritage, or what used to be a part of our heritage.

A year ago, it stood there, seemingly oblivious to the country’s decay. Now, it is almost gone. The destruction has been undertaken, as a response to the clamor for a new and modern structure. Juan Nakpil might have realized that being a National Artist is not a prerequisite for people to recognize beauty, art, or even history.

For them, to demolish might mean to start anew, without realizing that it is through these structures that our future could best be magnified. People might have forgotten that these buildings showed our development as a nation. Development, however, is more than changing the structure and building better ones. Development is about our outlook in life. It is tantamount to our perspective to change, not of the tangible things, but those that lie within. Development is the ability to look forward without relinquishing a valuable part that is within us.

It may take another lifetime for people to understand that.

a world without words.

2006-06-14T01:23:00.000+08:00

Words are very powerful creatures. They could build reputation, destroy credibility, or ruin self-confidence. They could seal age-old conflicts or they could start a war between peaceful nations. But, have we really mastered them?

I think it was Jessica Zafra who said, “Oftentimes, words are all that we’ve got.” Thinking that we fully comprehend the impact of words to others, we carelessly use them. We throw off adjectives, verbs, and nouns at the most inopportune time, without regard to terms such as tactless, brutal, and inconsiderate. (But, if someone misspelled tactless as tackless, that was simply atrocious. I do hope it rings a bell.)

Sometimes, we tend to say things like “all right”, “fine”, “okay” without even thinking the gravity or effect of these words. They are adjectives that do not particularly define anything. They are universally accepted, meaning neither destructive nor constructive. They are words that literally rest on the proverbial fence, without either touching or embracing any of the opposing sides.

Still, we love to use words. Some admire (while others worship) highfalutin words, either to emphasize their immense vocabulary or propensity to show-off. There are others who use the English language even when they talk to the saleslady, probably to separate the line between the client and the sales staff. There are those who even try to answer people in another language even if they are speaking in the local vernacular. There are times when people accentuate words with horrible pronunciation, enunciation, and diction (not to mention the twang) that would make them look like rejects from Sesame Street.

At times, we do all these things because we think that we have mastered the art of speech and communication. We consider words as by-products of our mental processes, and that our ability to think for the apt or correct word (or statement) is directly proportional to our intellectual capacity. With this mentality, we tend to believe that we know how to say the right word at the right time.

The funny thing is, we do acts (and even go the extra mile) to at least understand the meaning of certain words. In reality, we would never discover, let alone comprehend, their effects on to others. We are as clueless as to the relevance of the words that we have said. What happens most of the time is a compromise, between the speaker and listener. And we don’t even brazenly admit it.

*Photo comes from this.

burden off my back.

2006-06-09T09:32:00.000+08:00

‘I never let schooling interfere with my education.’ --Mark Twain

I’ve made the biggest decision of my life. And no, it’s not about weight issue or drugs. I have decided to transfer to another school starting this school year.

The problem I am facing is whether to wait for the release of my grades or apply to another school. Most of the law schools will start their academic school year this Tuesday. On the other hand, my beloved school will only release our grades on Tuesday. Here comes the problem. What if I don’t make the cut (meaning, the QPI)? For incoming third year, the QPI is 80. It means that if my grades fall below that average, I won’t have any school to attend to for a term.

I was really pissed off regarding the system in San Beda. There were two ~~hate~~ letters circulated weeks before the end of last school year. The two anonymous letters were questioning the manner of giving grades, lack of transparency, and the alleged hocus-pocus in the recording of the grades. Rumor has it that the grades have already been given by the professors as early as March 30, but the evaluation only happened this week. This means that students will have to wait for another week to know if they get retained or not. Imagine the agony it has caused to countless people. Everyday, they have to go to the school to check if the grades have already been released, only to be dismayed about the inefficiency of the administrators.

So, I made a bold move and asked for an honorable dismissal. While all of my classmates and schoolmates are still patiently waiting for the release of the grades, I already got a clearance. To my ~~dismay~~ surprise, my QPI is 81.43, which means that I should have been retained. But since, I can not undo what I have done; I have to stand up and accept the consequences of my decision.

Which means I am moving to Makati next month. I am transferring to Lyceum, which is in Salcedo Village. I am going to look for an ~~apartment~~ condo unit near the school. I will just have to wait for the expiration of my apartment contract this June.

My law school friends who knew of what happened advised me to write to the Dean to accept me back. They said that it is possible to surrender the honorable dismissal. But should I? I realized after hearing Mass that there is more to this than being in San Beda. Sure, the school produces bar topnotchers year in and out. Sure, they have the second highest percentage of passing, after TheAteneo Law. But, does it mean that I have to constantly endure the sleepless nights and terrible humiliation, not brought by classroom participation and sarcastic remarks from the professors (which I guess people have already become immune to), but brought about by the lack of transparency and alleged change of grades?

One of my friends who also went to another school (despite being retained) advised me one thing: There are only two choices, either you stay in the school and stop complaining or go out. I think I followed into her footsteps. And my decision has already affected the proverbial pond, since some of my classmates have also secured clearance forms.

Someone sent a text message last night, convincing me to stay. I said, “Will I stay in a school that betrays its very ideals just for the sake of its name?” I guess some of our choices do not fit into our ideal comfort zones. Some are even so sudden that they leave us on the brink, even questioning our ideals, morals, and even the things we value the most. But I realized that I have waited for this moment. Probably, I was just staying there because the school (despite its flaws) has continued to retain me.

But now that I saw an opportunity, I just made up a silly excuse and grabbed a sure way to get out. Perhaps, this is what I really wanted because in the process I never felt disappointment, only relief. And while others are still waiting for their grades, I am happily looking forward to a new environment where learning is given a prime emphasis.

too much time.

2006-06-05T14:22:00.000+08:00

I hate to say this: Mission Impossible III (M.I. III) was excruciatingly cacophonous; X-Men III was erroneous; and The Da Vinci Code was a complete drag. Remove The Da Vinci Code from the list, but if you would want to watch (and borrowing Sarah’s words, shutting off your brain in the process), then M.I. III and X-Men III would be viable choices.

The problem with M.I. III was the lack of excitement in it. After capitalizing onto two similar storylines, the third installment became too formulaic. We all knew that the people behind the movie would want to make the word impossible seem possible. But after seeing too much of Tom Cruise suspended in the mid-air, such became cliché, not to mention contrived. It seemed that it’s all too fabricated and that you would know what would happen next. Or, probably, moviegoers are already getting better at analyzing how the producers and scriptwriters think. For most of its parts, M.I. III was just an action movie. Just enjoy the team’s supposedly perfectly laid out plans. Afterwards, reconsider if anyone will be stupid enough to perform such tricks in real life. Oh, it wouldn’t hurt to see Maggie Q do her thing. That’s the film’s saving grace.

X-Men III, on the other hand, was completely flawed. For comic books readers and collectors, that was tantamount to a massacre. Imagine, Gandalf, was resurrected because of eating magical beans in a film adaptation of The Lord of the Rings. If that does not merit an outrage, I do not know what would. The storyline in X-Men was similar to that. Everybody knew how Phoenix came into being. And for crying out loud, how could Jean kill Scott, the man she supposedly loves? Even when she was possessed by the Dark Phoenix, Jean’s love for Scott was simply too great for her to take his life. Professor X is the most powerful telepath on Earth, even Jean would find it difficult to wield her powers against that man, let alone kill him. Storm, the last time I checked, was claustrophobic, not a wimp. Hey, they only had one mutant correctly copied (translated, visualized, adapted), Logan. Even Iceman was supposed to be a third class clown, and not a serious fool who carried the weight of the world. Was it just me or Wolverine was really really stupid, if not desperate to kill Jean? I would have wanted to shout at him: Use the serum, ClawMan! I thought that he was sobbing like a 3rd Grader because he realized that he should have used the serum instead of his adamantium claws. Oh, crap.

Let’s not talk about The Da Vinci Code. Have you felt goosebumps while reading the book while discovering the secrets of the Priory? Did you read the book up until 3 AM, rudely interrupted by your desire to pee? It’s not the best form of literature available, but there’s something in Dan Brown’s story that keeps you glued. Well, these became kaput with the film’s adaption. And I would want to personally console Tom Hanks for accepting the role. He did not foresee that this will be a drab, too late to back out. Being the gentleman that he is, he just continued with the project, with clenched fists, gritting teeth, and all that. And Audrey, oh dear Amelie, I felt excited when you were cast for that role. My enthusiasm waned after your first line. It was completely gone halfway through the film. You lacked the charisma for the role, not to mention the English proficiency. Every time you spoke, I felt like you’re being thumped with one of Newton’s apples in your throat. “Meesteer Langdon, pleee-azzzze fa-llooow meee.” What the heck was that?

That passes off as a review. Enjoy watching, if you intend to see it. Borrowing Djong’s, “I wouldn’t dissuade anyone from watching it. I think you all should. So you could suffer as I did.”

fantasy world.

2006-06-04T15:32:00.000+08:00

Imagination could be a tricky thing. The process of creating and inventing events, choices, and actions could lead into an array of disconcerting memories fraught with pretensions. The problem with this: it could be very addictive.

Creating up images to satiate something within us is not necessarily wrong. People do it all the time. Some even conjure images to block a painful event in the past. Others simply create an emotional wall to separate things that they do not want from the things that they deem crucial for survival. There are others who even create up superficial excuses just to get rid of other people’s irritating expectations. Think of those who say that they are in a relationship just to fend off the sarcastic comments mostly coming from relatives. These things, in one way or another, could be deemed as acceptable.

But there are those who cross over the thin line between reality and fantasy, and make up a completely different world. What is frightening is when a person is consumed by the world he has created. The one thing that started as an innocuous lie will eventually backfire and start to create another, up until a series of stories have taken over the person’s existence. The life he lives is burdened by his own fabricated world. The once silly tales become an unbearable weight, eating him up in the process.

There is no real problem in conjuring up images or events. The problem surfaces after these things have been said. The bigger problem is how to maintain these fabrications. People often said that it’s really easy to make a choice; the difficult part is to accept the consequences of these choices.

I would be a total hypocrite if I would say that I am living a clean slate or that my everyday encounter with people is devoid of certain fabrications. We deal with people everyday and we always put our best foot forward. Sometimes, even to the point of creating unnecessary details to either spice things up or make us look good. But the problem starts when we make it a habit.

Just like alcohol, smoking, or drugs, it could be very addictive. We might not know it, but we might be suffering from Sigmund Freud’s Fantasy World, one of humanity’s defense mechanisms. The difficulty here is how to separate fact from fiction, reality from fantasy, and truth from lie. And the sad part is, sometimes, the world a person creates becomes his security blanket. It becomes his own little space wherein he controls everything. And a moment after that, the world swallows him up without him realizing it.

of obesity and insecurity.

2006-05-31T15:45:00.000+08:00

The year is 2006. My weight is normal for my height. Sometimes, I even become five pounds underweight for my height.

Ten years ago, I was weighing 40 pounds than the recommended body weight for my height and age. I was insecure, aloof, and insignificant. Grades, awards, and recognitions mean nothing to a thirteen year old kid. At that stage, everything was judged by looks. Though, no one was really pointing weight as a direct issue, I felt that the source of my troubles all boiled down to the excess fats and cholesterol in my body.

I vowed to change. I thought it was easy, but the road to recovering from obesity was difficult. It’s not just shunning away from sweets or reducing the intake of carbohydrates that does the trick. Sometimes, your body also has to totally accede with your intent to lose weight. Have you heard of stories about people who almost cut twice their dietary intake and never lose weight? That’s true, in certain cases.

College came and I still had the same problem. I was not certain if I still weighed 40 pounds overweight, but I still considered myself as overweight. This was a difficult time for me. I could not wear clothes that were small or to fit into sizes other than Large or Extra-Large. My maong and khaki pants ranged from size 36-39. I was a walking mini-elephant.

College passed and law school came. I do not know how I suddenly developed an urge to lose weight. This time, I really tried hard. I cut down my calorie intake. I ate once a day, normally during lunch. Dinner was fruit, salad, or nothing at all. I became conscious of the amount of my food intake. I counted everything that I put into my mouth. Pizza has 2000 calorie, so I didn’t eat pizza. Colas have more calories into it compared to water. So, I drowned myself with water. Even in Starbucks and other coffee shops, I simply ordered tea instead of a frappucino.

It paid off. I lost the unwanted fats in my body. Now, I fit into a 30-31 maong pants. My shirts are all small or sometimes, even extra small. But even with a smaller frame, I still have these bilbils that could only be removed through a date with a gym equipment. My body still has unwanted fats that are sticking out. And these things make me insecure again.

I think the smartass who said that ‘human beings by nature have an insatiable appetite’ was a genius. Either that, or he just based it on actual experience. Now, I want to have those pandesal abs I see on television. I would want to have a perfect physique. I would even want to be thinner, I mean model thin despite the reluctance and discouragement from my parents and friends.

If I would attain the perfect physique, what would be next?

some memories.

2006-05-29T10:38:00.000+08:00

“Many animals have memory, but no other creature except man can recall the past at will.” --Aristotle

I have a sharp memory. At least, that’s how my mom constantly assures me that I could hurdle law school. I believe her.

Aside from the mutant ability of eavesdropping unintentionally (which others might perceive as ironic), I have this uncanny ability of remembering things and events which have transpired and people have normally left in the pits of oblivion.

For instance, I do remember that the first time I met Sarah’s dad was when a middle aged man approached me and innocuously asked Sarah’s whereabouts. I don’t even know her dad at that time. But after saying that he is Sarah’s father, I informed him that she already left Kasselvania. Up until now, I am still curious on how his father knew me, despite not being formally introduced to him.

The first time I saw Djong and Korina was inside the newspaper’s 3rd floor office. They were talking about this event, wherein Djong went to Makati to read a story for a bunch of kids. More on Koryn: She always saw me wearing khaki and polo. One day upon seeing me wearing maong and t-shirt, she said, “Now, that’s your laidback side.”

The first impression I had with Mon Navarro was when he sarcastically told Lovie, “If you can’t stand the heat; get out of the kitchen.” This has happened while he was reviewing for his Finance quiz, and Jayvee (the current Office Manager) smirked after hearing Mon’s comment. I was writing an article at that time, about the Online Voting System on the really really old computer. We had three computers at that time, two were manufactured, I think, during the pre-historic era.

And who would forget the Amelie movie with Kristine and Buboy. The movie being in French, Kristine literally interpreted every sign shown therein. It was also during this time that an earthquake had occurred, prompting people to panic. Since we cannot let Amelie down (Who would applaud her for her improvised tactics?), we decided to stay despite almost half of the crowd leaving the theater. (The tectonic plates stopped moving shortly.)

Djong hold grudges, according to her Friendster© account. I, on the other hand, remember. Hey, I even know who borrowed, how much, and when. And even if you didn’t pay me, I just know.

English 101 (part ii).

2006-05-16T14:40:00.000+08:00

The obvious impact of a teacher, whose grammatical structure seems at the very least awry, is magnified by the students’ proficiency. It could be safely said that majority of the students could be compared to a sponge. In this case, the students even absorb that of the teacher’s English skills (or the lack thereof).

Just take a look at this quiz I assigned two days ago. I am teaching Asian Civilization and one of the two questions I asked was: The Philippines has been considered as a melting pot in terms of civilization and culture. We have been inside a convent, a protégé for anything Hollywood, and a lab rat for a puppet government. Do you think these factors affect our present society?

The other question was: Countries in East Asia such as Japan and Korea are more prosperous to Southeast Asian countries such as Philippines and Indonesia. Do you think it is connected with topography? Or does the cultural aspect of its respective society play an essential role?

Suffice it to say, I thought that the question posed no real threat on the manner of finding the most suitable or logical answer. That is, of course, if you are currently taking up Asian Civilization. Later, I realized that it’s best not to have any form of expectation. It would be better, I now realize, if I acted a bit naïve.

Specimen Number 1:

Philippines is a land of culture. They are many cultures or traditions that everyone is experienced or remain in our heart that because we are pround* of being Filipinos. These are so many good attitudes that many foreigners like, examples are industrious, hospitable, so Filipinos are very intelligent to everyone of us. It is our culture.

Specimen Number 2:

I think topography is not the main factor if our country is not prosperous. Maybe it is on the way of our life because in country today some of the peoples especially those nurses, they come to abroad to earned more money. Maybe to our politicians, there are so many corruptions that happens today, crimes and most especially the poverty. There are so many problems today especially those youth that they are doing bad habits like drugs. Maybe poverty is the main factor why Philippines is not prosperous than other countries.

I should have given them a really low grade. First, for not answering my question. Second, for not using that gray matter in between their ears. Third, for having a bad grammar. Though, the third one should be lashed out on the English teacher. Grammatical errors and content put aside, the answers to both questions are still appalling. It seems that students simply put things that come into their minds, without first realizing if they are actually answering the questions or not. When the proverbial light bulb suddenly showed, they hurriedly placed thoughts, ramblings, or sentences on the test booklet, regardless of whether they are substantial or not.

This is just one facet of Philippine education. The impact of this situation is best seen on the graduates our country is currently producing. Sure, we pride ourselves as one of the countries with a high literacy rate in Southeast Asia. But what does that really mean? If we celebrate education with much gusto, why do we rate second from the lowest regarding Science and Math proficiency all throughout Asia? We even ardently believe that finishing a college degree is akin to a better life. But do we really learn something during our fourteen long years in school? Or we have been bombarded with too much information that do not even matter?

Another problem is the usual case of quantity over quality. For many schools, the number of enrollees is all that matters. So as long as schools earn, education (or learning) is sidetracked by more important factors such as expansion, research, or even accreditation.

In a way, accreditation works. But sometimes, the process merely becomes a sugarcoated attempt to attract more students. Still, accreditation, at its best, serves as a check and balance over private schools. But there are certain private schools that do not subject themselves to such accrediting bodies for fear of the obvious—lack of efficient professors, questionable methods of learning, and even the absence of tangible things (chairs, blackboards, projection rooms, etc.) The conditions in public schools are even worse.

There goes the inevitable: How would a student learn if the teacher is not even learned? Today, the problem is not limited to sentence construction. It appears that such is only the tip of the iceberg. There are those who graduated with a degree in Social Science, but teaches Business Finance. Or vice versa.

The fact that one has a college degree, or a masteral (masters) degree, is not a stamp for a teaching position. I think that a teacher should not only be familiar with his or her subject, but should also be profoundly knowledgeable about these matters. It appears (as odd as it seems) that one becomes a teacher because of the lack of available persons to teach.

But that statement is contradictory, if not totally ironic. Yearly, thousands of students pass the Teacher’s Board. But many (mostly public schools) are not hiring. And even if they hire, a teacher would undergo a series of process that could only be labeled as preposterous. In the end, many resort to other jobs, from being part of the police force to being a domestic helper. Though, there’s really nothing wrong with such jobs, it only reflects the sad state of Philippine education.

Who could really blame them? With the budget being allotted mostly to the Armed Forces, the once glorified job of educating people is seen as a second rate profession, especially in the provincial and public institutions.

---------

*that’s how it’s spelled.

English 101.

2006-05-05T17:15:00.000+08:00

During summer breaks, one of the things I enjoy doing in Mindoro is to teach. I handle an out-of-school-youth class with Algebra, Physics, and World Literature as my subjects. There are times, when I also get invited by professors to teach in their masteral (masters) class.

A few days ago, my mom asked me to serve as an exam proctor. She has to attend a seminar in another town and nobody would replace her. Not being able to think of an excuse, I just agreed with her idea.

So, there I was, in the middle of mid-40s, all of whom are teachers, who would want a raise in their salary. That’s the main reason for taking a master’s degree. There were two students who were in their late 20s. I think that their main goal in taking up a graduate course is for a promotion.

Looking at the crowd, I could safely say that they were having a hard time with the exams. Though the questions were seemingly easy, I think majority of them were having a hard time remembering the definition of the terms included therein. I think the culprit was old age. Old age is synonymous to memory gaps and difficulty in memorizing. A young person would be able to memorize half the speed than that of an adult (40s and above).

After two hours of sitting at the middle of the hall, one of the younger teachers passed her exam booklet. Soon enough, others followed. I started reading their answers. One of them had this answer:

Naturalism because it is easy to teach students in terms of learning process. I was used this strategy to put myself in their shoe. I will also used example with natural and real for helping students understand what the real world is. It is also help students to follow our activities because their also know our activities in reality by using natural approach.

I do not demean her personality. I was just saying that this kind of statement sucked. If I were to read it, I would not know what message she wanted to convey. Even if we forget about the content, and concentrate on the structure of the statement, it was still horrible. I just hoped she is not an English teacher.

Reading these types of answers made me totally uncomfortable. Sure, I too suffer from grammar hiccups and certain “construction” problems. But reading these answers were simply atrocious. These people are responsible in shaping the minds of today’s youth. Having the basic problem of the difficulty in conveying thoughts, I suppose it’s more difficult to impart it on today’s youth.

To be continued…

of boredom.

2006-05-02T16:13:00.000+08:00

I have not written anything substantial in months. I have been away, and supposedly resting in my isolated hometown. In the past, I cringe in horror whenever I return here. But thank goodness, there's the beach, the APO Reef, where people are allowed either to dive or snorkel, and for the past two years, the Internet.

Usually, I am bored because of the absence of any extraordinary activity to accomplish. For the past two weeks, I had read three books, which means I am already bombarded by too much information. (FYI, I read non-fiction books here.) And even certain things that seem entertaining could already be considered as trivial after three or four days of repetitive acts. Which means, after the fourth day of going to the beach, playing lawn tennis, and reading a book, I am bored. BORED. BORED. Yes, my point is clear.

But I don't want to return to Manila yet. The scorching heat of the sun and the pollution in the metropolis are already two good reasons why I would want to prolong my stay here despite gaining on some few pounds. I am thinking that when I get back to the city, I would be twice as fat as I used to be.

Good thing is, next week, we might just climb a mountain and spend a few days there. At least, there is something to do before I get bored again.

funny!

2006-03-28T01:05:00.000+08:00

These were actual court transcripts in some of the judicial bodies in the States. They made me laugh. Read on and feel free to be hysterical.

Q: What is your date of birth?
A: July 15th.
Q: Of what year?
A: Every year.

Q: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
A: Gucci sweat and Reeboks.

Q: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
A: Yes.
Q: In what ways does it affect our memory?
A: I forget.
Q: You forget. Can you give us an example of something you’ve forgotten?

Q: What was the first thing your husband said to you this morning?
A: He said, “Where am I, Cathy?”
Q: And why did that upset you?
A: My name is Susan.

Q: How old is your son, the one living with you?
A: Thirty five or thirty seven, I don’t exactly know.
Q: So how long has he lived with you?
A: Forty five years.

Q: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know this until the next morning?
A: Did you actually pass the bar?

Q: The youngest son, the twenty year old kid, how old is he?

Q: Were you present when the picture was taken?

Q: So the date of conception was August 8th, is that right?
A: Yes.
Q: So, what were you doing at that time?

Q: She had three children, right?
A: Yes.
Q: How many are boys?
A: None.
Q: So, how many are girls?

Q: Can you describe the individual?
A: About medium height and had a beard.
A: Was this a male or female?

Q: All your responses must be oral, okay. So, what school did you go to?
A: Oral.

Q: Doctor, how many autopsies have you performed on dead people?
A: All my autopsies were performed on dead people.

Q: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
A: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
Q: And Mr. Dennington was dead at the time?
A: No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy.

Q: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?

Q: Are you sexually active?
A: No, I just lie there.

Q: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for blood pressure?
A: No.
Q: Did you check for breathing?
A: No.
Q: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
A: No.
Q: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
A: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
Q: But could the patient have still been alive nevertheless?
A: Yes, I suppose it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law somewhere.

convince me.

2006-03-16T13:04:00.000+08:00

Give me one good reason to believe that taking an unborn kid’s life is better than being forced to stop one’s studies. I just can’t fathom the idea that people love to get laid (or have sex), but be irresponsible to face the consequences that come with it.

I was stupidly supporting an entire experiment, which I never thought was already an abortion. I was just thinking that the entire thing had something to do with a girl’s thing. I even jokingly referred while X was recovering, “Ano ba yan? Baka buntis ka!” And the entire room suddenly became quiet. Then, my stupid comment paved the way for my realization of the things that actually transpired. Totally disappointed, I left the room.

Yeah, yeah. Women have the so-called personal choice, but not everybody commits the right choice? I know that this is open to debate because I sound too subjective on my stand. I don’t even know what is right and proper under the circumstances. I just want to believe that this is all for the better, but something inside me cannot agree with the entire thing. The heavier burden, I think, is to personally carry the unbearable decision for the rest of her life. Whatever consequences she might face, she has to deal with it sooner or later.

Sigh. I’m just frustrated that I wasn’t able to say or do anything about it.

fearless forecasts.

2006-03-10T03:08:00.000+08:00

For the guys, Kevin Covais and Bucky Covington will be booted out of the competition.

For the girls, it would be Kinnik Sky’s and Melissa McGhee’s last performance in the hit reality show that spawns millions of viewers from across the globe.

Sigh. I think Melissa has the potential, but she is being overshadowed by giants in the competition. And this is a plain bloody awful fact. Well, it might also be her fault. She has not stepped up in the competition, considering that some of the girls this year are talented. The likes of Mandisa and Katharine McPhee are considered as the gauge to follow, if not to beat. There are also the youngsters, Paris Bennett and Lisa Tucker, who are giving the other contestants a lesson or two about singing prowess, vocal range, and artistry. And there are the crowd favorites, Ayla Brown and Kellie Pickler, contestants who are not technically vocally outstanding, but they know how to pick the right songs to suit their vocal range.

I think the guys are just plain average performers. I think Chris Daughtry is beginning to become boring. Week after week, he is singing the same alternative songs. He needs to pump up his performance and try different genres if he wants to win the title. Ace Young is gorgeous, but he is definitely having a hard time with the falsettos. But, his looks would save him at this part of the competition. I am bothered now by Taylor Hicks’s stage presence. There’s something horrifying about how he moves. I always associate it with an epileptic attack. And I didn’t like his performance last night. I felt it was contrived and exaggerated. I am still rooting for Elliott Yamin and Gedeon McKinney, though I don’t think they will win because they are not marketable as artists.

*photos stolen (again) from www.idolonfox.com

about the Oscars.

2006-03-08T02:54:00.000+08:00

The year’s Oscars made some funny, intelligent, and crisp remarks—ranging from politically incorrect banters to the various notions about sexual orientation. Here are some of the more unforgettable lines:

On the Oscars’s neglect to pay tribute to a legend
John Stewart (host): “Martin Scorsese: Zero Oscars. Three 6 Mafia: One”

Cleverest Joke on Sexual Preference

When Stewart quipped that the film Capote showed America that “not all gay people are virile cowboys. Some are actually effete New York intellectuals.”

Funniest Politically Incorrect

John Stewart to Steven Spielberg: “Schindler's List and Munich. I think I can speak for all Jews in saying, I can't wait to see what happens to us next! Trilogy!”

Funniest Political Joke

Stewart (again) apologizes for singer Björk not showing up because she was “trying on her Oscar dress and Dick Cheney shot her.”

results on AI.

2006-03-04T04:59:00.000+08:00

The results were a bit predictable.

Heather’s performance was awful, and Brenna’s attitude was totally unwarranted. Confidence is necessary in the competition, but hers was simply ghastly, even bordering on annoyance. David Radford’s song, on the other hand, was totally bland and uninspiring, and to think that his choice was supposed to be his most comfortable genre.

I’m disheartened in Sway’s situation. His version of Overjoyed is Paolo Santos’s. Unfortunately, the judges did not like, not even a bit; Simon even commented that the version is typical videoke. Well, what else is new.

I thought it would be Kevin Covais that would be booted out of the competition, with his mediocre version of I Heard It Through the Grapevine. I think the judges’ comments really ushered him to another week and stay in the competition. Randy and Paula both positively praised his song, which I can’t fathom why. Oh, well.

Next week, I think Kevin would go home. Even, the Chicken Little comparison is too much already. It might also be a bad call for Will Makar, Taylor Hicks, and Bucky Covington. The problem with Will is, his vocals is only average and unless he does something about it, he might be the next candidate for elimination. Taylor and Bucky both lack stage presence. And yes, Simon’s comment about Bucky is true—he is best as a support cast, and not as a lead. Though I still think Ace Young is not a great singer. At best, he stays because of his good looks. Wrong choice of song might mean a farewell performance, unless America continues to rally behind him.

For the ladies, I think it might be Kinnik Sky’s and Melissa McGhee’s last performance. Kinnik’s vocals is unimpressive, while Melissa is an average performer. The other contender might be Kellie Pickler. She has this great vocal range. The problem is, I think she could only sing three varieties of song with her voice.

My fearless forecasts for next week. Any wrong choice of song might change the results. =P

*Photos stolen from www.idolonfox.com and www.overmused.com

Recto, baby!

2006-03-03T02:02:00.000+08:00

There’s something about that avenue that would place it in the list of one of the most fascinating, if not intriguing areas in the country. It is home to almost everything—from fake diplomas to stolen cellular phones, from pirated CDs to extremely cheap second-hand books and magazines.

Recto Avenue is the typical old, crumbling, dilapidated area you would not want to go. It is considered unsafe, polluted, noisy, and literally dirty. The apartments and dorms lined up in that vicinity are all horrible, totally dubious if human beings actually reside in them, or they are just places designated as breeding grounds for rats and cockroaches. At night, around 8 or 9pm, after class, if one would be so unfortunate to pass in that area, rats as big as cats happily trudge, as if claiming liberty over human domination. And this is not an exaggeration. I think cats are personally afraid to go in that area, thinking that they might serve as a viand.

And of course, Recto would never be complete without the usual scenes about snatchers, pickpockets, and thieves making their so-called living. A passerby would suddenly scream because someone took her bag or cellular phone, and the people, the everyday average folks, would just think that such incident is plain stupidity. It’s almost certain that everybody is thinking the same thing: “Hell, this is Recto. Who on earth would have the audacity to flash his cellular phone?” They have a point, actually.

And to make matters worse, the clogged traffic is an everyday experience. Heck, the road is too narrow, the students are too numerous, and the vehicles are just plain reckless. And don’t think of just crossing the street alone, unless you want to experience a painful and quite anti-climactic death due to a vehicular accident. To think the jeepney driver might not be even able to pay for your funeral expenses might even add insult to your death.

It’s even the favorite destination of those who would want to cry outrage against the government. It is the arena for the anti-establishment. And no matter how trite, courageous, or just plain hasty these demonstrations are, this is still the place that they would want to be heard. Problem is, the government officials believe otherwise. But, the fact of the matter is, this is one area that would forever be significant to Philippine history.

But, you may ask (directly or discreetly), why do I love this area? Why not? And I am not throwing the question back, akin to a philosophical ping-pong. Where else could you buy a P30 CD that plays really good songs, which could be uploaded in an iPod? Where else could you surf for P10 per hour, some of them even include promos such as P25 for three hours? Where else, do tell me, could you buy second-hand books that are still in mint condition for only P50? And where else, could you find a banana que for P6; a Japanese corn for only P12; and a full meal (composed of two viands and rice) for only P25? Do tell me where else? Of course, provincial rates do not apply.

Yeah, I do miss the De La Salle neighborhood, with all its high-end restaurants, tall buildings, and maintained environment. But that represents the comfortable lifestyle. If you want to learn something about life, and I mean the nitty-gritty, dirty, or simply, the so-called real world—the ones that you could only see in documentaries; then I dare you to go here.

It’s unsafe, polluted, dirty, and horrible. But it teaches a thing or two about life, and definitely, the kind of lesson that would be crucial to one’s survival. Well, just the kind of lesson that you would never learn in the four walls of your mighty academe.

the crucial factor.

2006-02-27T03:06:00.000+08:00

The Philippines has always been on the brink of a political turmoil. The constant struggle for power and control has caused even the most nonchalant Pinoy to doubt the intention of every politician. The word itself is frowned upon, as if it means cheat, liar, phony, or something in between.

The call for resignation has been an issue since time immemorial, since the Garci tapes had been presented as a proof regarding anomalies in the recent National Elections. The attempts, including every maneuver from different camps, to oust the current president have been always sidelined by the simple fact that majority of the Filipinos would not want to join in any fray or action to suppress the government. Their reason is quite simple: Who would lead the nation? Would we want to try our luck with another politician whose intention might be the same as the one governing the nation and whose reputation might even be worse?

There is of course a tinge of honesty in that statement. The fact that no one seems to be capable, at least in terms of character, to replace the current leader plays a very crucial role in events to happen. The other known fact is quite obvious. The people who lead these rallies, conventions, or meetings have dubious personal interest on their own. Even, assuming for the sake of argument, that former President Corazon Aquino projects a clean image, that only serves, at most, a comforting fact. She, on my opinion, is not totally credible, not after the death in Hacienda Luisita . (Or have we also forgotten that?)

What bothers me about the entire situation is not the presence of the government leaders with shaky reputations in every imaginable rally; rather I’m more bothered about the current mentality of the majority of the Filipinos. It is akin to being immune to a certain situation or thing. We can’t blame them, I guess. With all the gore and blood exposed to everyday television, which is treated as a normal event, many Filipinos would not find it repulsive to see people being bombarded with water canon or being pushed off the road using canes or sticks. Some would even say, “Serves them right for being there and for blocking the flow of traffic.” But that is just plain horrible.

The problem today is not only the lack of a credible leader. The other problem is how to stir the Filipinos to fight for something which they believe is proper, just, or worthy. It’s not just about credible moving speeches or flashes of images portraying abuse and torture that could move Filipinos to march on to the street nowadays.

I think it would take a different form of abuse or repression to gather the mass and fight for what is right. It might be another declaration of martial law, or say, something worse. But, right now, the average Pinoy is simply worried not on the so-called suspension of the writ of habeas corpus; rather, they are worried on what to put on the table or how to survive the day. For many Filipinos, the state of the nation is the least of their concern, let alone, worry.

Heck, the students even enjoyed the long break due to the supposed coup attempts. Ironic, isn’t it?

tickle my IQ.

2006-02-26T02:54:00.000+08:00

I don’t really know what this really means. Or how to interpret the results. Or if I scored lower than the average. But I really liked the contents of the result. Here goes something:

Congratulations, Mike!Your IQ score is 127

This number is based on a scientific formula that compares how many questions you answered correctly on the Classic IQ Test relative to others. Your Intellectual Type is Insightful Linguist. This means you are highly intelligent and have the natural fluency of a writer and the visual and spatial strengths of an artist. Those skills contribute to your creative and expressive mind. And that's just some of what we know about you from your test results.

If you want to take the Tickle IQ test, just click http://web.tickle.com/invite?test=3001&type=t

more on American Idol.

2006-02-24T14:29:00.000+08:00

I’m becoming addicted to American Idol Season 5, and to think that I don’t have a television inside my room.

The first night the contestants showed their singing prowess, you can clearly segregate those who are average singers and those who can really sing. Ryan Seacrest made one important remark while interviewing a female singer, Lisa Tucker if I am not mistaken, “Either you have it (singing ability) or not.”

The first time America voted to eliminate two guys and two girls, the results showed that Becky O’ Donohue, Stevie Scott, Bobby Bennett, and Patrick Hall received the lowest votes. One impressive thing is, Becky O’ Donohue’s good looks and her Maxim’s exposure did not save her from being booted out of the competition.

During the girl’s night, I thought Katharine McPhee sounds like Norah Jones in a weird way. And the two youngest female contestants are really impressive, Paris Bennett and Lisa Tucker. On the boy’s competition, Taylor Hicks sounds original and Elliott Yamin’s rendition of Stevie Wonder’s song is just plain impressive. Gedeon McKinney’s Shout is entertaining, with all the moves and choreography, and his vocals is good. Though, I’m really bothered by his smile, which is practically the same comment as Simon’s. The Fil-Am Sway Penala sounds like a Southborder member with his ability to hit extremely high notes.

This next comment goes against Djong’s. I really think Bobby Bennett should go. He is really entertaining, but who would be sane enough to actually sing Copacabana? I just thought that his choice of song made him a clear candidate for elimination.

someone's post.

2006-02-22T04:13:00.000+08:00

I got this post while I was checking on the different links about American Idol. I find it at the very least intriguing.

I present my top 10 favorite American Idol performances of all time.

10: Nadia Turner. You Don't Have to Say You Love Me. S4. I kinda wanted to put Anthony Fedorov's Hold on to the Night at number 10 for purely sexual reasons, but Nadia's dustup of an oldie was an amazing confluence of drama and rockabillie up to that point unseen in Season 4.

9: Fantasia Barrino. You Were Always On My Mind. S3. Preempting her critics' claims that she couldn't slow up her BoBo, Fantasia took yet another country song and added some elegance to the night. She proved all at once that no genre or style constrictions could hold her down--a tenet only strengthened by her later slam dunk that was Summertime.

8: Kimberley Locke. Where the Boys Are. S2. K.Lo finally clicked within herself with Billy Joel's New York State of Mind but it wasn't until Boys that she finally put the BMW into fifth gear and let loose with the rhapsodic power that her pipes had all along.

7: Carrie Underwood. Could've Been. S4. Yeah, Alone put her on the map, but Could've made the damn map. Before Carrie had image issues with plasticity and ill-placed countryness, she whacked this friggin' awesome ballad out of the hemisphere. It had nuance, dynamics, clarity, and--get this--feeling. This should've been her signature piece, and I kinda hope she'll sing it instead of Alone if given the choice.

6: Bo Bice. In a Dream. S4. You know, for the life of me, I can't hum the tune that Bo sang. But I can't get the image of the solo spotlight beaming down on a pared down Bo. Reminiscent of Fantasia's spare rendition of Summertime, Bo needed this more than Fantasia did in her season to prove his versatility as a singer--not just a rocker. In a way, it was sort of gimmicky, but the fact that Bo still sold me on the perf is indicative of its authentic power.

5: Jasmine Trias. Inseparable. S3. Ah, the great Hawaiian villainess of season 3 who knocked out Latoya London. She is the prime example of the contestant who coasts on the strength of a single sublime performance, but that shouldn't detract from the fact that for one night, Jasmine was the brightest star in the room.

4: Kelly Clarkson. Stuff Like That There. S1. Really, I could stack the top ten with all of Kelly's performances, but this one, during the Big Band night, with her poofy hair, polka-dot dress, and pristine air of an era genuinely evoked, this one stood out. The theme nights more often than not seem like storms that contestants need to weather, but for Kelly, she always floated on top of the clouds, and never moreso than with Stuff.

3: Latoya London. All By Myself. S3. I have no qualms admitting that I was completely suckered in by the obvious handling of the producers to keep Latoya in their side pocket until the semi-finals aired to let Latoya loose on us. It was, by and large, a near perfect scheme to impress us. But the thing was, Latoya really didn't need it. Her shimmery high-hat tone propelled Myself over the airwaves, and with her signature head nod to finish the song, the performance seemed less a lament of loneliness, and more like a declaration of her sole position as the one to beat.

2: Clay Aiken. Bridge Over Troubled Water. S2. Bombast is usually a sucky thing. Yet despite the ridiculously overproduced arrangement of--of all things--a Simon and Garfunkel tune, Clay's unwavering voice was clear as day. The sashaying choir butts and the high note to end all high notes dazzled me--and proved that Clay should have won Season 2 (well, as long K.Lo wasn't in the final).

1: Tamyra Gray. And I'm Telling You (I'm Not Going). S1. To this day, my single favorite performance is the first Call-to-Vote semi-final performance ever to air on American Idol. Tamyra Gray, clad in peasant-motif blue and brown clothes, took the stage, and without a hint of amateurism proceeded to Dreamgirl her way to the top of my list. Her class and enormous talent keeps her as my favorite Idol contestant still.

something in between.

2006-02-18T01:53:00.000+08:00

“This is a bitch of an unsatisfactory situation.” --Jake Gyllenhaal

“Is he literally referring to the movie?” I ask my Id.
“No, just the part where he’s blabbering that he can’t have Heath,” the Id replies succintly.
“I thought that was a metaphor,” then I shut up.

***

Brokeback Mountain, if you ask me, is an apt title. The entire story ended after the supposed two confused cowboys (who were ironically herding sheep) were stopped from their jobs because of their inability to look after the safety of the herd. I thought it was a perfect shot when Gyllenhaal was looking at a seemingly emotional Ledger at his side mirror. After that scene, the movie seemed hazy and restrained—a far cry from its supposed blurb, “Love is a force of nature.”

It was a good movie, but it was far from being a monumental film as opposed to its highly overrated praises. I don’t know if it was just me, or the film really lacked something. I was waiting for it to drop the proverbial bomb, but it failed constantly. The film became excerpts of the lives of two people who were supposed to be together. But even their misery felt contrived, to the point that you were forced to be emotionally moved in their plight. Problem is, you just can’t.

The good thing is, it took a great deal of courage to portray a sensitive and compassionate issue. The problem is, the supposed courageous love story was restricted and reserved, making it totally inexpressive and aloof. What could have been a real significant movie just became another one of those could-have-beens.

Praise though should be given to Michelle Williams (the former Dawson’s Creek co-star) for her very sympathetic performance of a wife at the brink of an emotional collapse. Her portrayal is simply moving. The cinematography and metaphor Ang Lee used to portray the love between Gyllenhaal and Ledger (beautiful landscape, crystal clear water, etc) seemed to intensify their love, as opposed to the dingy room, crying babies, and cramped spaces with their wives.

Still, I think it’s a decent movie. I think Sarah will watch this twice because of Jake Gyllenhaal’s. And two more times, because of his naked scenes. Hehe. =)

solitude.

2006-02-15T16:51:00.000+08:00

Solitude is tantamount to an unbridled freedom
to wander, or to exist;
where thoughts fly amidst the chaos,
in an arena wherein white elephants
trudge into forgotten hills of temporary nostalgia.

Solitude is a plane where the wind
is nothing but a great imagination,
for it is neither damp nor pressing,
neither real nor abstract,
but a fickle madness in the midst of sanity.

Solitude is a temporary solace,
a seeming and momentary encounter
with strangeness or with absurdity
that eats up the desireto be covered
in a pool of overriding emotions.

But it could be addictive.

now, to celebrate valentine's.

2006-02-14T18:11:00.000+08:00

Three of my cousins have decided to permanently stay in their (respective) chosen foreign land. Two more will leave the country sometime this year. And that does not count my relatives who are already living in another country.

I came from the really old school—the one wherein family planning is unheard of. My oldest aunt has six children; two are already working abroad—one as a nurse and the other as an accountant. The next in line has four—two again are working overseas, as a supervisor and as an accountant. The list of cousins planning to go abroad to try his (her) luck would probably increase in the succeeding years. But the bottom line is, most of them would want to leave the country, given the opportunity to.

I myself would want to leave the country. My reason is not in search of a greener pasture; rather, it is to experience a totally different environment. I intend to study in a foreign land and develop a network from acquaintances and friends in different continents. This might sound a bit elitist, especially with the current situation in the county, but I really do intend to pursue this fancy of mine.

The flight of the middle class is totally in tune with the current plight of the country. No matter how absurd the government declares its supposed plans of eradicating poverty, the main point still subsists: Until such measures reach the poor people, everything is an exercise in futility. The Expanded EVAT (the term is quite redundant, but the concept itself is quite redundant) is useless unless the 70 percent living below the poverty line receive the benefits of the additional income through food and shelter, infrastructure projects, education, and other poverty alleviation measures. The supposed savings of P24 billion in debt financing because of the P1 lower rate of the currency is just a metaphor for a boosting economy unless the money goes to the marginalized.

If you look at it in a different perspective, it seems absurd that we’re generating more and more revenues every day, but it seems that the money is going off nowhere. Remember the allegory of the torn pocket (something that I have invented) wherein the man filled his pocket with so much gold, only to find out that his pocket is damaged and tattered.

The same goes with the situation in the Philippines. Forget about the increase in GDP; forget about the stabilized international credit rating; forget about the flight of many Filipinos. Our concern today is on the proper management of finances, and may I add, overwhelming finances.

I remember when I was in college that there’s this open manhole near my dorm with a sign: This is where your taxes go. I think that should be construed literally.

don't watch it.

2006-02-09T02:37:00.000+08:00

Zathura sucks.

For those who believe that P140 (0r P120 or P100, depending on which cinema you intend to watch it) is still a good money, go find yourself another way of burning it. Be it on another decent movie, 12 swipes at the videoke booth at Timezone, or a Chai Tea at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. Just don't spend it watching that movie. Please.

For those who have seen Jumanji and actually enjoyed the plot, this movie does not come close (except for the blurb that says: from the makers of Jumanji). I tried telling myself that whoever made this film actually suffered from lack of imagination. And to think that Tim Robbins's earlier line to one of his children was, “You have a better imagination than him.” I do not know if this line should be construed as an irony or as a sarcastic remark. In any case, Zathura is still the worst movie I have seen this year.

I would not want to make a decent review (as if I am capable) because I could not possibly make one. Even the storyline, wherein the stranded astronaut turns out to be the older version of the kid who played the lead at Little Manhattan, is too peculiar, if not totally absurd. Are the scriptwriters suggesting a parallel universe? Or are they implying eternal recurrence? But then again, if this would be eternal recurrence, then it would just happen again and again ad infinitum. I was lost. (Definitely, the term should be construed in its literal meaning, and not LOST, as in confused because of a twisted or complicated plot.)

There goes my review, if ever it passes off as a review.

the color of hope (and money too).

2006-01-28T03:52:00.000+08:00

Michael, your true color is Green!

You're green, the color of growth and vigor. Good-hearted and giving, you have a knack for finding and bringing out the best in people. Green is the most down-to-earth color in the spectrum—reliable and trustworthy. People know they can count on you to be around in times of need, since your concern for people is genuine and sincere. You take pride in being a good friend. For you, success is measured in terms of personal achievement and growth, not by status or position. Rare as emeralds, greens are wonderful, natural people. It truly is your color!

law student's prayer.

2006-01-23T01:45:00.000+08:00

May our god of Civil Law perfect us upon consent.

May our god of Criminal Law bless us with exempting circumstances for every sin committed.

May our god of Remedial Law never let us run out of remedies for every cause of action we may have

May our god of Labor Law give us a premium pay for our extra efforts.

May our god of Taxation Law never tax us beyond our capacity.

May our god of Mercantile Law never restrictively indorse us.

May our god of Political Law never deny us of due process.

dirty you.

2006-01-19T02:21:00.000+08:00

Things which would sound right in legal parlance:

10. Have you looked through his briefs?
9. He is one hard judge.
8. Counsel, let’s do it in your chambers.
7. His attorney withdrew at the last minute.
6. Is it a penal offense?
5. Better leave the handcuffs on.
4. For P5000 an hour, she better be good!
3. Can you get him to drop his suit?
2. The judge gave her the stiffest one he could.
1. Think you can get me off?

The Zahir.

2006-01-08T02:14:00.000+08:00

“Just suppose that Hitler had won the war, wiped out all the Jews and convinced the people that there really was such a thing as a master race. The history books start to be changed, and, a hundred years later, his successors manage to wipe out all the Indians. Three hundred years later and the Blacks have been eliminated too. It takes five hundred years, but, finally, the all-powerful war machine succeeds in erasing all Asians from the face of the earth as well. The history books speak of remote battles waged against barbarians, but no one reads too closely, because it’s of no importance.

Two thousand years after the birth of Nazism, in a bar in Tokyo, a city that has been inhabited for five centuries now by tall, blue-eyed people, Hans and Fritz are enjoying a beer. At one point, Hans looks at Fritz and asks: “Fritz, do you think it was always like this?”

“What?” asks Fritz.

“The world.”

“Of course the world was always like this, isn’t that what we were taught?”

“Of course, I don’t know what made me ask such a stupid question,” says Hans.

They finish their beer, talk about other things, and forget the question entirely.”

***

This argument is similar to that of George Orwell’s 1984. The main contention is that people who write history could change the perception of the majority. Once the viewpoint has been altered to suit a certain belief, it is much easier to manipulate people. But, we already know that, right?

But, what if?

What if we are just led to believe that freedom means being free from any form of encumbrance, but in reality, it is the exact opposite? What if, the supposed purpose in life is just a myth, for there is really no purpose at all? Or, what if, the things that we hold dear are nothing but lies?

It makes my weekend a good time to start an existential dilemma.

everybody else's business.

2005-12-31T13:48:00.000+08:00

We (My parents and I) were invited to attend a Christening two days ago. The event is slated today, but we are not aware of the exact residence of my mom's officemate (the one who invited us to the party).

My mom is not really into parties. She does not attend parties because she thinks that the atmosphere is very fake. People would place their best foot forward to please everybody and would try to mingle with others, even those who are not their friends. She does not also like the array of the food served. The idea of eating little or barely eating at all does not appeal to her either.

It was actually my dad who prodded us to go there. He was the politician among us (although I would want to believe that I am a close second). He would never hesitate to go to another's house and mingle with all people present. He talks to all persons from practically all walks of life. He knows the security guards in almost all banks, the tricycle drivers, the market vendors, etc.

Back to the story. We do not know the house, so we decided to go to the market to ride a tricycle. There's a paradahan (station) there for certain destinations. My mom knows that her officemate lives somewhere in San Roque II, a piece of information that is as useless as it is valuable. From there, we asked practically all drivers if they knew where her officemate's family resides. All knew the exact location.

The interesting part was that the driver (that we chose) enumerated all the details about the family, which my parents added certain bits of information. The driver started saying the job of the mom; the recent death in the family; the dad's business. I started to really think that in this area of ours, everybody knows everybody else's, including his or her private life.

I remember Jessica Zafra's essay about the lack of serial killers in the Philippines. She believes that this is a country where the entire neighborhood knows everybody else's business. If one person would start covering his entire house with blinds and close all his doors; the next day, someone would inquire about his peculiar behavior. The Filipinos' nosy behavior would probably make serial killers think twice about their grisly plans.

I just wondered. If I would happen to live in this town for the next few years, I would die not of boredom, but of self-consciousness. People would be telling all others about what I do, what I would not do, how I do it, and what I would not want to do. Literally, just about everything.

Thinking about it makes me nauseous already.

the art of learning.

2005-12-29T13:23:00.000+08:00

My idea of holidays is bumming around.

Life here is so much easy, if not totally comfortable. I don't do chores. I have my own timetable. And i get to do pretty much whatever I want (which includes reading, writing poems, walking, sleeping, cooking, and hiking with my cousins).

Normally, I don't spend breakfast with my folks, no matter how insistent my mom is. Even in Manila, I wake up around 11AM, a habit that I brought in the province. I have been accustomed to this kind of lifestyle for as long as I could remember, and I think that my parents are already becoming comfortable with it. Before, my mom would always reprimand me about being lazy and all that other unwanted (human) frailties that come with it. Now, I think they have given up entirely.

The past few days, however, were entirely different. My parents asked me a week ago if I could be a part of the volunteer group in the parish to teach certain high school subjects to kids. I readily agreed, thinking that this is a good opportunity to spend the holidays. I was not disappointed.

I handle Physics and Literature, two of my favorite subjects back in high school. The class that was assigned to me are composed of average students. Though some find it difficult to follow the lessons, I could see that they are really doing their best. They would try to memorize the formula, copy the notes, and actively participate in classroom discussions.

The everyday experience for me teaches a thing or two about life. (Yeah, yeah, it's a trite phrase.) First on the list would be patience. Not everybody is fast enough to grasp the complexities of the formula of the gravitational pull, or compute the mass or the volume of a cube. Some would even find it too complicated to answer even the simple problems. The so-called inherent fear of Math in many students does not help either. Many of my students tremble at the sight of the Pythagorean theorem or Newton's formula. It would take an ample amount of patience and dedication to instill on their minds that Math should never be frowned upon. It takes an even greater deal for them to appreciate the beauty of the subject.

I remember a survey about the proficiency of students in Science and Math. Among all the countries that participated, the Philippines ranked fourth from the lowest. The survey is an indication of the current plight of Philippine education, and at the same time, the learning curve inside the classroom.

I realize that the problem is not always about students fearing the subject.

The major bulk depends on the teacher. Some of the teachers, especially in public schools, do not give their best in teaching these subjects. And no one can really blame them. The lack of reading materials, seats, laboratories contribute to the declining appreciation for the subject. The fact that teachers are paid comparatively lower than other government officials do not help either. Salary is a form of motivation, but with a low range, they would surely not be motivated to excel in their teaching.

After all this jazz, one would realize that teaching is more than a profession. It is more than giving quizzes, checking papers, and imparting knowledge. It is about building character and creating ideals. I do hope the government would realize that.

not its prime.

2005-11-25T12:40:00.000+08:00

Prime is supposed to be a good movie. It just failed miserably in its attempt.

The storyline is good. At least, that’s how I initially thought it would be. The angle of a patient-shrink-boyfriend’s mother is a new one. New storylines, at best, should be exploited in every way in order to possibly bring out the best in a story.

Sometimes, people just chicken out. And to think, it was on the latter part that the director, scriptwriter, producer (I don’t know whom to consider) terribly thought that his (her) material is not worthy enough. The result is unmistakably confusing.

Prime is about a Jewish therapist Meryl Streep who is constantly providing insightful advice to Uma Thurman, a 37 year old divorcee, who thinks that the world is not working in her favor. Thurman meets a guy at the movie house, Bryan Greenberg, and the two hit it off. Greenberg is the son of protective Streep who denies her son’s endeavors including his painting talents. The entire family’s quirky behavior and traditional outlook do not help Bryan to fulfill his dreams either. The fact that he, a 23 year old guy, is dating a 37 year old woman is not something that the family considers as decent.

Director Ben Younger got a good cast. Streep is hilarious especially during the part that she discovered that it was really Thurman who had been dating her son. The elevator guy is also naturally funny. He does not utter much line, but his facial reaction is so genuinely effortless, that you just have to consider the circumstances funny. Thurman delivers her part with that air of guilt, which makes her acting convincing for the part. Greenberg is just Greenberg--an unfamiliar guy who shows familiar acting prowess.

The problem was the ending. It was so contrived that it just leaves you wondering what the director (scriptwriter) was actually thinking. Hell, this could have been a good movie! Really. It could have been better if the director ended the movie at the scene where Thurman and Greenberg are having sex (making love). During that scene, Thurman declined Greenberg’s request to give her a baby, which was Thurman’s greatest desire. Thurman uttered a mushy line: “Your love has transcended any expectation, and that is the greatest gift that you could give to me.” That’s how I remembered the line. If the director ended with this tone, at least it’s hanging. It gives the viewers the chance or opportunity to invent the ending based on their desired expectations and sentiments.

It could have been a good movie. Enough said.

just a thought.

2005-11-23T12:20:00.000+08:00

There’s always something interesting with a strain of thoughts. Images running too vividly inside one’s brain would always provide something insightful. Thoughts freely flowing and swimming in a pool of excessive indulgence to liberal mentality can later turn into sensible ideas. At least, that’s how I perceive things.

For instance, with the barricade (both human beings and objects) that is still constantly being readied in Malacañan, it seems that the Palace still has an unfriendly demeanor towards people who would want to go there. The incessant police checkpoints during the wee hours of the day should also be a cause of worry. There are times when I saw cars being stopped at the middle of the road and the motorists were being told (more of obliged) to open the car and show certain things. This is constitutionally prohibited. The right to unreasonable searches and seizures comes into play. A series of Supreme Court cases have already been decided prohibiting the even the opening of trunks or drawers inside the car without a search warrant.

The police power of the Government could not be capriciously used as a vehicle to violated basic and fundamental constitutional and human rights. The only thing that the policemen could do is to look or inspect at the car, but they are not allowed to open it or ask the driver to open the various parts of the car.

If that is the case, people would normally ask why is it different in malls. Why do security guards could search bags and even the person even without a search warrant? The answer is simple. The constitutional prohibition only works against the Government, but not to private entities. A mall, being a private owned entity, has the authority to impose rules which it might deem best for its security and for the safety of the people going there. The prohibition on unreasonable searches and seizures, therefore, is not controlling.

I am inclined to believe that too many thoughts can produce something sensible. It might just be true.

without a closure.

2005-11-14T13:15:00.000+08:00

We are a generation without closure.

Remember the Shaider and Mask Man series, ending abruptly without the last four or five episodes. Who would forget Visionaries? The cartoon series famed for its varied characters and plots. Suddenly, PTV4 decided to completely strip it off of its air time. The same goes with G.I. Joe, Sesame Street, and even its local counterpart Batibot. We were deprived of knowing whether Kuya Bodgie and Ate Sheena (was the spelling correct) got married or not. Did Kiko Matsing and Pong Pagong become lovers? The list of shows that was removed without any slight warning was so abundant that I even forgot some of them.

With this type of influence, one can safely say that the mentality of most of today's youth is affected by this situation. Many of us would start enthusiastically over something, but half way through, we can't sustain the initial enthusiasm. We, therefore, abruptly end it and choose another project to begin with. The cycle then continues.

Someone who is logical would comment that such basis is so shallow that it could have not affected us in any way. Probably, but the television being a very powerful medium exerts a force, mostly invisible to many, to shape our needs, wants, desires, and even our way of thinking. Imagine the television telling you that one toothpaste is better compared to the other, and your mind would process such information. In the end, when you go to the supermarket, you'd buy the toothpaste that the TV ad mentioned to be more effective than another.

Similarly, growing up in a period wherein TV shows do not reach its end, and be bombarded with new shows impliedly influences us to change our preference in the middle of the stream. To our fragile minds then, nothing is wrong. In reality, its impact is so great that such attitude affects our decision making and the choices that we make.

We are a generation without closure. Yeah, but on certain terms, it isn't so bad.

after hibernation.

2005-11-06T23:04:00.000+08:00

This is long overdue. Diorella has tagged me with this post eons ago. I have been busy. Just one of those excuses I conjure whenever I really feel lazy to do anything.

Twenty random and abnormal things about me:

1. I have never read the entire Bible.
2. I collect quotations and place them in a small black notebook. (Since Globe has introduced this Unlimited Text Promo, I try to text all my Globe friends, which comprise more than 2/3 in my phonebook.)
3. I used to fear snakes, until I was able to kill one.
4. I lost more than 40 pounds since fourth year high school.
5. I haven’t tried smoking up to now.
6. Few people would know that I’m depressed unless I tell them so.
7. I never liked Superman even when I was a kid. I thought the idea of being too powerful and at the same time not being able to use his full powers reduces him to a wimp.
8. I used to paint using charcoal and oil pastel during elementary and high school years. The talent, if there was any, was never developed.
9. I slept through a terrible earthquake; I didn’t realize that the entire household was panicking until the day after.
10. I questioned an elementary History teacher about the relevance of studying Philippine History year after year.
11. One of the honors I received in High School was the Exemplary Behavior Award.
12. Whenever I ride elevators, I have this peculiar belief that I would be transported into another time or dimension.
13. I can eat peanut butter sandwich for a week.
14. I used to have an allergy with chicken food. After experiencing an allergy attack when I was in third grade, I never ate chicken again until I entered college. Oddly enough, it was gone after tasting Jollibee’s Chicken Joy.
15. I can eavesdrop into any conversation without even intending to.
16. My left eye is smaller than my right eye, and I don’t know the reason.
17. I received my first ever salary when I was in Grade 3. I replaced the Provincial SK Chairman for a week as part of a Boy Scout activity. I received 600 pesos then.
18.When I was a kid, I enjoyed eating mixed Nido and Ovaltine without water.
19. I would want to study Spanish or Japanese, but definitely not French.
20. In examinations, I find it difficult to answer the part wherein one has to compare different pictures or symbols to determine the odd one in the group. See, I don’t even know what it’s called.
Passing the baton to Brenda, Kata, Bry, Fay, and Jaem.

avenue for change.

2005-10-06T12:36:00.000+08:00

Rally, demonstration, protest (or whatever it is called) is nothing new to me. The daily walk on my way to school, which is located near Mendiola Bridge, serves as a testament to the notion that rallies are part of my everyday existence

On a Monday, members of the opposition would assert their unified stand against the administration. On a Tuesday, student activists would storm Malacañan in order to air their grievances regarding the proposed budget cut in the education sector. On a Wednesday, drivers of PUVs would create a noise barrage due to the incessant price increase of gasoline and crude oil. On a Thursday, groups representing the minorities make their claim about the government’s indifference towards their plight. On a Friday, the OFWs would stage a ‘candle protest’ to lament the unfair treatment given to Filipinos outside the country. On a Saturday, labor unions would band together to demand a P3000 across the board wage increase. It’s only during Sundays that the famous bridge is given its supposed rest.

The plethora of available reasons to protest paints an honest picture regarding the current state of the Philippines. On the one hand, it shows how democracy works—providing people with an avenue for redress of their grievances. On the other hand, it questions the relevance of democracy.

There is truth to the truism that democracy works only for people who are ready to accept the responsibilities attached to a democratic country. The freedom of speech and expression, though given much importance in the Constitution, is not an absolute right. Contrary to what people assert, the government has the right to prohibit the continuous or excessive display of such right. The inevitable question arises: What then is guaranteed in the Constitution, if the government can suppress or prevent such rights?

Generally, such right, when uttered or discussed within the confines of one’s home or in any other private place, is beyond the ambit of government intervention. However, when a group attempts to convene in a public place and exercises the freedom of speech or that of expression, prior government permit is necessary. The succeeding question focuses on the reason behind the need for a prior permit. Under the Public Assembly Act, a city or town mayor can approve or reject a petition to hold a rally three days before it is scheduled. But every rejection must be accompanied by a written explanation, which may be appealed to the courts.

The prohibition to stage a protest can be traced on the State’s police power. The apparent reason for the permit highlights the very nature of a public place. A public place is generally open to everyone. People who desire to use the area for a specific purpose at a given time would necessarily exclude others from enjoying it. Therefore, the State, through the city or town mayor, has the right to enjoin or limit the use of such space, if it deems that there is another area available or that the purpose would not prove beneficial.

Which bring us to the more important factor: is protest the only available recourse? Some would argue that it is. The failed impeachment complaint, for one, illustrates the current political tension. Court proceedings, on the other hand, seem to take an eternity, as seen on the on-going impeachment trial. Even the supposed truth commission is only as good as the resolution creating it.

But the rubber that we ought to stretch has its limits. To constantly use mass demonstration in order to initiate change is just a knee-jerk solution to a complicated problem. What happens is a perpetual abuse of such right, without considering the consequences. And the sad part is, abusing such right is destroying that which we hold dear.

There is still an available recourse—to initiate change on a personal level. Rather than complaining about the inefficiency of the government, start to create ripples of change. These might be small and seemingly insignificant attempts, but if everybody else would do his part, these ripples could generate a wave that could alter the entire system.

It only takes a positive disposition and the willingness to change.

keep the faith.

2005-09-25T22:42:00.000+08:00

It’s history repeating itself. At least, that’s how most people perceive it to be.

The UAAP Finals Game between DLSU Green Archers and FEU Tamaraws paints a common picture that has happened last year. It was a battle between the same teams vying for the coveted men’s basketball championship plum.

Yesterday’s game of the Green Archers against the ADMU Blue Eagles was replete with the usual tension that would only come from a Green Archers—Blue Eagles Game. In the end, it was the better team that emerged victorious.

Prior to the game, Coach Black of the Ateneo squad predicted that this would be a game where ‘the men would be separated from the boys.’ And damn right, he said that correctly.

The first half was Ateneo’s. But Ateneo’s magic ended on the first half. After that, it was an obvious De La Salle game ending with a 74-57 score. Lone Eagle score maker LA Tenorio’s court abilities proved to be a futile attempt to thwart the aggressive and combined efforts coming from Yeo, Maierhoffer, Villanueva, Araña, Tang, and even from Aquino.

It was an inspiring story for the Archers’. The team, which everyone predicted not to be included in the Final Four, was vindicated in every sense. After a lackluster start and a disappointing fourth place finish during the first half, the Taft based squad improved its status and eventually trailed season’s leader FEU Tamaraws.

But the real battle is yet to begin. With a slated Best of Three series, the burden falls upon the Archers’ shoulders to finally be the giants that they are supposed to be. It might be a difficult task, but with the pace and style that they have displayed from the past games; it is just possible to beat the season’s favorite team.

Ability and combined effort from the Green Archers would prove insufficient. We should continue to believe in them. Let’s keep the faith.

*photo taken from UAAP.com

numbers game.

2005-09-23T14:25:00.000+08:00

Age is just a number.

For some people, the movement of time indicates one thing—death. For others, the movement of time is viewed as accumulation of experience. Still, there are other people who believe that time is nothing but one of those things that man invented to satiate his desire, whatever it may be.

The problem with aging is, beauty fades with it. In a world where the physical trait is still viewed as the dominant factor in determining many things, people fail to see the relevance of aging. For them, an added year is synonymous to another wrinkle in their face. In short, many view the passing of time as degeneration to the prevailing concept of beauty.

Contrary to many people’s, there are some who age gracefully. The passing of years brings to them added glow and warmth that their physical self, though it continues to age, exudes a certain charisma. These are people who are sure of themselves that they need not worry about many things. They do not care if moderate jest would bring them laugh lines. Or that another year would mean being in the category of senior citizens.

But, why do we, including many others, fear of getting old? I think the problem lies in not knowing what we want. Sure, there are certain superficial people who still think that age means slower metabolism (meaning being prone to fatty tissues), or having these skin problems that come with age, and similar other issues. But for most of us, the movement of time is seen as another year ‘wasted’ onto the unknown or the unimportant. Of course, many would argue that the previous year was not really ‘wasted’ on trivial things. But still, no matter how hard we try to convince ourselves, a certain part of us screams that the previous year was just as mediocre as the past few years (or even more mediocre).

It’s difficult really to find a person’s purpose and to literally stick with it. Even some people who are seemingly accomplished discover that it’s quite a complicated game—finding that one thing that would satiate one’s needs, if ever there is any. But, amazingly, there are some people who live with life as if they are contented with everything given to them. I personally know some. Though they have certain ‘what ifs’, at the end of the day, they would sit at the veranda, watch the sunset, enjoy coffee and a good chat with someone.

I think that life is not all about finding one’s purpose. Of course, it is good if an individual discovers that one thing that could make him perpetually happy. But sometimes, it all boils down to being satisfied with the opportunities that come upon us. If we desire for more, it also means that we get more upset or disappointed. It was Maslow (I think) who said that when man reaches a higher level of needs to satisfy, so is his disappointments. A good friend of mine said that everything in this world is just an illusion. And it takes three things to discover happiness—remove fear, remove doubt, and start living life as it is.

I say too much. Pardon me, it’s my birthday today.

battle between clashing rights.

2005-09-20T03:00:00.000+08:00

A group of French Bishops has won its supposed legal battle when a Paris court issued an injunction against the Marithé Francois Girbaud controversial print ad. The ad (as seen above), a rip-off of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper, shows an all female ensemble wearing collections from the fashion designer’s.

The decision was penned by Judge Jean-Claude Magendie in a manner that speaks of ‘a gratuitous and aggressive act of intrusion on people’s innermost beliefs’. The Catholic Church was even awarded costs for such blatant exhibit of The Last Supper, the supposed foundation of the Catholic Church’s Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist. With the injunction, the French judge also gave an order to remove all displays of such advertisement within a period of three days.

Lawyer for the Catholic Church Thierry Massis insists that the act is morally upsetting. “When you (trivialize) the founding acts of a religion, when you touch on sacred things, you create an unbearable moral violence which is a danger to our children,” said Massis. She even commented that by starting such kinds of advertisements, “Tomorrow, Christ on the Cross would be selling socks.”

On the other hand, the fashion house’s lawyer Bernard Cahen insists that banning the image would be tantamount to censorship. “The work is a photograph based on a painting, not on the Bible,” said Cahen. According to him, there is nothing in it that is offensive to the Catholic religion. It is a way of showing the place of women in society today, which is a reflection of our changing values.

The boundary that separates freedom from religion to that of expression is often blurry. The intrusion of one into the other is often confused by the conflicting rights governing the freedom of expression and the freedom to respect (or establish) a religion. Supreme Court decisions, both foreign and local, do not help either. Normally, these decisions often apply to the particular circumstances attendant to every case. But to pinpoint a definite ground between the two constitutional rights is at the very least complicated.

Two things.

First, I didn’t find the ad offensive. It’s a representation of the modern day Last Supper. Christ was replaced by a woman here, and so were his apostles. But this was not done, I personally think, to offend the Catholics’ faith, but merely to cut across the message of removing the boundary that once chained women in a male (patriarchal) dominated society. Women now are almost omnipresent in every sector of society, doing tasks that were once male dominated.

Second, the ad was poorly executed. If Francois-Girbaud would want to release its new denim collection, why choose the concept of The Last Supper? Was the ad merely triggered by that controversial factor? In the first place, there is no connection present between the jeans and the infamous sharing of food. (Unless, the designers would want to signal to the shoppers that during Christ’s time, the kinds of clothes used were not as comfortable as today’s. But of course, there would be no point of comparison.) I think, again personally, that the designers merely capitalized onto the concept of da Vinci’s portrait without really considering its effects (or its impact). They probably thought that the concept is good, even saleable to market. But it ended on the execution of the ad. The people behind the concept failed to foresee what the ad literally and figuratively would tell the buyers. Or how the buyers would react.

There. That’s literally my two cents’ worth.

the task of multiplicity.

2005-09-17T12:36:00.000+08:00

stolen from babyblues.com

Multi-tasking is a cliché. At least for our generation, it is.

We often hear such term in abundance, from the practice of management in certain fast-food chains and even to simple classroom discussions. We even do it in most of our day-to-day activities—listening to music while finishing a day’s deadline; brushing our teeth while rinsing our hair; or studying and watching television at the same time. Or even having to prepare a thesis, edit a newspaper, and go to a company for an on-the-job training (which happens to be a personal experience).

The plethora of available instances indicates one thing about multi-tasking. It is a common fact of life for us—an attempt to accomplish so many things in so little time. But what happens after is an amalgam of confusing moments. When both the left and the right part of the brain are working at the same exact time, the amount of energy needed for both to function properly is more compared to that of only using one side of the brain at a given time. Of course, this has no scientific basis, except from my convoluted mind’s theory of things.

The good thing about it is, we often become flexible in dealing with varied situations. Since we are already accustomed to the fact of being bombarded with so many things at a given time frame, we become more conscious at the available resources within us. Also we don’t give in to pressure easily. Being saddled with tremendous amount of workload makes us more stringent to certain things that would have easily waned our defenses.

The bad thing is, we want to accomplish so many things (or we get accustomed to such fact) that we lose sight of the more important things. Or the things that we really want to do. We want to do photography; to write; to travel; to open a business; to do this and that, and in the end, we don’t achieve one good thing where we could have excelled. And it’s quite disheartening to know such a fact.

The real problem is, choosing that one area to excel into.

the flight of the yadah-yadah existence.

2005-09-14T13:07:00.000+08:00

The humdrum of everyday existence could be tedious. Waking up to witness the same exact things and doing similar set of activities could lead into an array of contentious questions suddenly popping into one’s head.

There’s obviously boredom in monotony, and it’s a wonder why many people choose to live the same lives for quite some time. Being saddled with the same set of events is not only taxing, but mind boggling as well. Not to mention, the already glaring manner of dealing with the same set of people. Yes, it’s true that being with the same crowd would already ease out the tension since the barriers of conflicting emotions are somehow reduced. But that same barrier causes things to be more exciting—the getting to know stage, the divergence in choices, the reluctance to be part in the group, and similar other things.

But what is really compelling about being faced with the same set of tasks is the act of just dragging one’s feet in order to accomplish everything. Sometimes, there is no other available option except to be there, and do such things. And literally, everything turns up into a convoluted or often into a dwindling scenario.

The point is, people feel exhausted, tired, worn out, (put any other synonym here). And it’s not a simple excuse to say, ‘take a break’ or ‘relax for a while’. Sometimes, there’s just no such thing, or circumstances do not permit such action. And the end result is a fixation made from lack of sleep and a surge of stress.

What am I saying?

something about love.

2005-08-31T00:41:00.000+08:00

Let me tell you something about love.

Love is an interplay of pleasure and pain. It is a sweet indulgence of both agony and desire. It embraces fear, and at the same time provides strength. Love is both sorrow and joy.

Love is complicated.

The fairy tale description of love—the one that ends happily ever after—is only a myth. Propagated by the desire of the lovestruck, the description could be considered as ideal as a fantasy world. It might be invented to satiate the desire for the gush of unexpected ecstasy, of sheer bliss, or of a brightly colored world.

Yet true love is not lost.

Love has never been too simple to be understood easily, yet it has neither been too complex to be a source of paradox.

Love is a personal encounter.

Love is not always an avenue for pleasure or desire. It has never been a collection of sweet encounters or an array of puerile fancies.

But love is neither about misery. It has never desired for a total surrender. Love has not claimed a submission of one’s identity. It does not require the impossible.

Love stands in itself, without a need of a verbose display of words.

Yet many people seem lost. On that sudden unexpected surge of emotions, people succumb to love, without realizing its potent effects. People fail to grasp the complexities that come with it. Many want to experience the apparent ecstatic moments, without comprehending the responsibilities attached to it.

Love is not immature. It does not necessitate blind obedience. It longs for its own space.

Love is not about letting go of someone. Love demands risk and the continuous process of fighting for it, as if gasping for the last breath of air.

Love is adamant and certain. It does not want to be abandoned. For a love lost can rarely be recovered.

And the strongest love is the one who can embrace its mistakes. The kind of love which accepts faults, and at the same time, encourages growth. It is one that seeks enlightenment.

A love that is true is one that sees beauty in flaws; finds purpose in vagueness; and draws strength from vulnerability.

I write something about love because I believe in it.

in the company of books.

2005-08-24T00:35:00.000+08:00

I haven’t read a decent book for ages. Two months, to be exact. In my universe, that span of time happens to be classified as ‘for ages’ already.

The last one that I’ve read was Murakami’s A Wild Sheep Chase. Yes, I happen to adore that writer. He takes surreal literature to a different degree. I don’t know if surreal literature is the proper term, but his writing style is similar to that of Kafka’s. The stories seem to present lives of ordinary people, but there’s always something different and extraordinary about them. The characters seem to inhabit a world similar to ours, yet different in the most unimaginable way. It’s as if they reside in a world within another world. The beauty in it is that Murakami wants the reader to discover the world on his own terms.

Now, now, where am I? I can get lost in my own world.

Ah, failure to read something decent for ages, I now remember. Well, I don’t consider law books as something decent. At least, not in my vocabulary. They are technical description of non-sensical things guised as something vital. Who would want to immerse himself in things like the correct procedure in courts? These things ensure that the rights of the accused, defendant, or respondent would be properly safeguarded, but in general, they are just tedious description of procedures in court. Nothing more, probably less.

To assuage that feeling, I’ll just post some of the better books that I’ve read so far. Here goes my list.

Alan Lightman’s Einstein’s Dreams. The story is similar to the concept of Sliders—parallel universes, with different concepts of the Truth. In the story, Albert Einstein dreams (not to be confused with the title), and Alan Lightman recounts the peculiar story behind his every dream, including the alternate routes of time. In every dream world he visits, time operates in various ways. In one world, time is circular, people repeating their triumphs and mistakes over and over. In another world, there is no time, only frozen moments. There’s also a place where time is backwards, people die first before they are born.

The dreams have a poetic, though poignant and often sad, quality to them. The story might be an account of ordinary dreams that challenges one’s definition of time, of possibility, of chance, of love, and of life in general.

J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye. Contrary to many people’s assertion that this book is simply about a teenager’s troubled life, this book delves deeper into a person’s thoughts. Caulfield, the troubled protagonist was expelled from his school because of poor academic performance. The story is about his activities after exiting the school, and before facing his parents’ ire. The book is about existential angst, detailing life’s emptiness in general. The prevailing question is, is insanity a self-imposed ailment or society has immensely contributed to its personal development? If you listen to Caulfield’s monologue, you would realize that insanity might not be directly attributable to a person’s lack of good sense. Society’s coldness towards a person’s existence might be crucial in the development of such behavior. And in the end, giving details about other people is not just an act of ‘starting to miss them’; rather it presupposes that existence largely depends on one’s the interaction with others. Yeah, probably, it’s just a sugarcoated term for actually missing them.

Gaiman’s and Pratchett’s Good Omens. The book delves into Armageddon and its absurd take on various Biblical events. The Anti-Christ was born, but he was ‘switched’ during his birth. As a result, he grew up to be a normal 11 year old boy named Adam. Well, that’s the basic premise. The beauty of this book lies in its philosophical underpinnings, without sounding too preachy or arrogant. It gives you the traditional good vs. evil plot, but surprisingly the book’s theme is not at all tiring. And similar to books that tackle philosophy, there’s this part that simply challenges one’s definition of things, of spiritural creation, of God’s role in the universe, and the meaning of man’s existence. This is a good read, fraught with sardonic wit, satirical comments, and plain humor.

To be continued...

modes of perspective.

2005-08-19T00:28:00.000+08:00

alignedfigure 1.1
not aligned.figure 1.2

of bionic ears and senseless conversations.

2005-08-18T13:00:00.000+08:00

I have a super advanced sense of hearing. And I do take pride in it.

Some people (like Sarah Maese and Diorella) would just call me plain nosy. But this is not something that I actually do as a hobby. I just happen to possess bionic pair of ears. I can eavesdrop into another person’s conversation without even intending to.

Take for instance this Starbucks’s incident a few weeks ago. I was seated at the far end of the coffee shop, and there was a group of people, seated at the other end, discussing about their colorful lives. Taking a break from the rigors of Remedial Law, Civil Procedure to be exact, I chanced upon the girl giving these ‘tales’ to the people I can only surmise as her friends.

“Yeah, mayaman kami,” she shared. “Yung mom ko nga kung mag-shopping, nakaka-limang balik yung kotse para lang sa sapatos,” she furthered.

I am not a judgmental person. I accept people’s version of events, so as long as it would in not any way harm my state of being. (But, please, for the sake of fairness, limit the exaggeration into more believable stories.) Even Imelda Marcos, whose name was included in the dictionary for being exceedingly lavish, would not fare to such an embellished statement. But this highly incredible story served as my breather from my usual toxic ingestion of technical law terms. I found the tale amusing, or should I say, too amusing.

And just last night, while eating at the nearby carenderia, I again heard the conversation between the three servers. Here’s how the conversation went:

Lady1: Bakit di pa ako pumuputi? Ang tagal ko nang gumagamit ng BioLink.
Lady2: Di mo na kaya kailangang pumuti. Maputi ka na no.
Lady3: Oo nga. Tingnan mo kaming dalawa. Kami nga ang dapat gumamit ng Likas Papaya.
Lady1: Ay bakit di ka na maputi ngayon? (Question to Lady3).
Lady2: Pumayat kasi siya. (In reference to Lady3).
Lady3: Pero tingnan mo, flawless naman ako.
Lady2: Mahilig mag-ala Rosanna Roces yan. Laging kayang naka-sleeveless.
Lady1: Ay kaya pala hindi pantay ang kulay ng balat mo, di tulad sa akin.
Lady2: Oo nga. Mahilig nga kseng mag-sleveless yan kaya di pantay ang kulay ng balat niya.
Lady1: Eh, ako rin naman, mahilig mag-sleeveless ah. Eh bakit pantay?
Lady3: Eh pag gabi ka lang naman nag-sleeveless noh.
Lady1: Oo nga noh.

I almost lost my appetite.

pag-usad.*

2005-08-17T01:05:00.000+08:00

hinamon ka ng tadhana,
sa panahong pilit mong itinatago
ang kahulugan ng pag-inog ng mundo.
iminulat mo ang iyong sarili
sa isang pakikipagsapalarang
nakasandig
sa mga kakarampot na sandaling
kumikiliti sa imahinasyon.
binulag mo ang kapangyarihan ng pag-ibig,
mula sa mga paninindigang baluktot,
at habang patuloy ang iyong paglalakbay
ay hinahayaan mo lamang
ang mga kaganapang dumaloy
ayon sa iyong sariling kahulugan,
at hindi sa kapalaran.
at kahit sa pagtangis ng iilan,
patuloy na nakapinid ang iyong puso
sa tunay na kahulugan ng buhay.
ngunit sa isang pagkakataon
ay tahasang kang itinakwil
ng sarili mong paninindigan;
at sa munting sandaling bumaklas
ang mahinahong pakikipagtalastasan,
nang walang bahid ng pagkukunwari,
tungkol sa mga bagay-bagay;
sa mga pangarap;
ay waring umindayog ang mundo,
nangusap ang mga tala,
humarana ang hangin,
at bumukas ang pinto
ng pusong sadya mong pinatikas,
at hindi na napigilan
ang kanyang tuluyang pag-aklas.
maging ang mga paninidigang
walang katuturan,
walang halaga,
ay napuno ng pagbabakasakali
at nabahiran ng pagdududa,
tulad ng kandilang nauupos
sa sariling apoy na kanyang likha
ay nabalot ka ng pag-aalinlangan.
ngunit sa gabing nagbago
ang indayog ng kapalaran;
sa gabing pinili mong pagmasdan,
ang liwanag ng kanyang kaluluwa,
at hindi ng sinuman sa kanila,
ay binasag mo ang tanikalang
gumagapos sa iyong katauhan.

-----------------
*Para kay Katotong RT,
tinakasan ang katotohanan
sakmal ang kaligayahang
dala nang pag-ibig.

postcard.

2005-08-13T01:00:00.000+08:00

katumbas ng langit.

2005-08-12T02:12:00.000+08:00

minsan mo nang binulag
ang aking kakayahan
nang subukan mong bitiwan ang iyong takot,
sa isang gabing katumbas ng isang libong gabi.
sa gabing pinilit mong ipalasap
ang tamis ng mga salitang
itinago mula sa kapalaran;
katulad na lamang
ng sabihin mong:
ang mga pangyayari ay nagaganap
batay sa kanilang kahandaan,
at hindi sa atin.
hindi ko nakita ang kaganapan,
mula sa pagkalito ng sanlaksang abo,
habang sumasayaw sa mga balikat natin.
bumaklas ang pagsang-ayon

mula sa iyong tinuran:

na walang halaga ang pagbubukas
ng isang pintong nakapinid,
maging ang pagbabaklas sa itinayong pader
kung hindi maaaninag ang
liwanag ng ating mga kaluluwa.
ngunit, ngayon,

sa gabing katulad ng isang libong gabi

ay nakita ko ang iyong kaluluwa,
at gayundin, ikaw sa akin.
subalit habang kumakampay ang dahon,
at lumalagislis ang mga bato
ay nagbabakasakali akong
hindi tama ang mga pangyayari,
at may pagkakataon pang lisanin
ang pagbibiro ng tadhana.
tumangis ang langit
at lumisan ang katotohanan.
ngunit hindi ang iyong kapusukan,

sapagkat, dumampi ang iyong labi,
sa panahong hindi inaasahan.

at sa paghinto ng mundo

ay tahasan mong binaggit,
na hindi habambuhay na maisasara
ang pintuang nakapinid
sapagkat darating din ang isang susi,

kapag ako ay umibig.

surplus in Starbucks.

2005-08-11T00:49:00.000+08:00

Majority of us claim to be coffee lovers. Or at the very least, coffee shop tambays (bystanders). The latter happens to be those people who would order a drink and then stay inside the place until the closing time. I belong to the latter.

I cannot claim to be a coffee lover because in the first place, I don’t drink coffee. I find it totally peculiar to be delighted over something that tastes so bitter. It’s totally odd (well, at least for me) to claim satisfaction over something that’s too hot and, at the same time, pungent.

But this is not intended to demean all the coffee lovers. In fact, my parents are both coffee lovers. It’s part of their system, coffee drinking, that is. A day, for them, would not be complete without the aroma that comes from coffee. But this is not a post about coffee. In fact, it’s totally far from it.

This is about surplus, excess, superfluous—the Starbucks way.

Yes, Starbucks—Philippines has a policy that is quite unreasonable for a third world country such as ours. The pastries that are displayed inside the ref (or whatever it is called) are disposed of every night, if they are not sold at the end of the day. Starbucks buys such pastries on a daily basis, and every piece that is not consumed by the buying public has to be thrown into the garbage bag.

Though there are certain stores that give certain pastries to various charitable institutions. But it’s the charitable institution that has to pick-up these pastries in a particular Starbucks shop. The problem is, not all the times, these pastries, which are offered to charitable institutions, are still available at the end of the day. So, imagine the trouble it would take for these charitable institutions to go to a particular Starbucks store only to find out there are only two pieces left, or worse, none at all.

Prior to this policy, Starbucks has been lenient to its baristas (those who serve coffee). The unsold goods were given to them at the end of the day. But some baristas became too greedy. Certain delicious pastries were hidden from the customers so that they could take them home after their shift. The management learnt of this practice; thus removed the policy of giving the ‘left-overs’ to the baristas. Today, Starbucks follows the ‘garbage bin policy’ for all the unsold pastries.

So, the next time you go to a Starbucks shop after partying all night, look at all the unsold pastries. Chances are, there will be a happy garbage person who will be able to feast on a Chocolate Dome or an Oreo Cheesecake.

everyday essentials.

2005-08-09T00:02:00.000+08:00

I took this photo, while studying in Starbucks last Sunday, using Tess’s cellular phone. I actually liked this shot. It took me seven attempts, exhausting various concepts, before settling for this picture.

It gives you an idea on what I do everyday.

my president.

2005-08-08T00:37:00.000+08:00

Raul S. Roco(1941-2005)
“People are our wealth. They are more important than institutions.”

Some prominent political icons have already said that he was “the best president the country never had.”

It was during the Estrada impeachment trial that Raul Roco showed not only his brilliance as a lawyer, but also his general prevailing principles in life. Jasmin Banal, a young lawyer who had previously worked for a law firm that created dummy corporations for then President Joseph Estrada was interrogated by then Sen. Miriam Defensor-Santiago.

Santiago asked, “So you made the unusual deviation from the usual career path, since you and I and all UP law graduates virtually pursue the same career path after graduation. Isn’t that so? We try and get the highest salary we can get... But in your case, you transferred from a law office with a higher salary to a law office with a lower salary. Is that correct?”

Banal gave a short reply, a simple, ‘Yes’, to which Santiago retorted, “Remarkable.”

Raul Roco proceeded to question the young lawyer, which obtained a more favorable response from the audience. He started with, “We in San Beda Law, we were taught that law is a noble profession, it is not a business.” He continued, “Am I right to assume that you in UP Law were taught the same thing?”

Banal answered, “Yes, Your Honor.”

Roco did not stop there. He furthered, “What is written on the UP Law School, engraved in stone?” To which Banal replied, “The business of a law school is not to teach law but to teach law in the grand manner.”

Showing both wit and composure, he added, “We are brothers and sisters in the profession, we should always be motivated by a sense of idealism. Is this correct?” Banal again answered in the affirmative.

And to finally counter the previous statement of Santiago, Roco gave a very leading statement, “So when you transfer from a higher-paying job to a lower-paying job, that is not necessarily an erroneous career decision? In fact, it could be motivated by a sense of idealism?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” was all that Banal said.

Roco, seeing the need to clarify the entire matter, uttered, “Yes. I thought that should be elicited because I was surprised to learn that the usual career path of lawyers is going from lower-paying jobs to higher-paying jobs.”

duplicitous.

2005-08-03T00:43:00.000+08:00

Yes, my roommate, I happen to hear that bravado of yours while talking to someone, whom I expect to be your girlfriend. Yes, it’s actually within an audible range, which I think you purposely did.

Your words, accentuated with that manly tone, reverberate inside the room. I think it’s a gesture fraught with superficiality—to tell to the other person (whom I still expect to be your girlfriend), that you’re too busy to go to her place. For crying out loud, you don’t have to alter your voice into that manly brusque tone. It wouldn’t help convince her. It obviously does not, as her demands become more perceptible. But yours is betrayed by the alibis you continuously invent.

It’s just irritating, my dear roommate, how totally uncouth you can be. If you think that the roughness in your voice could change anything; then you are obviously mistaken. Even your act of dismissing the other person as a seemingly insignificant creature is too reckless, if not uncalled for. It’s just appalling that at this day and age, you have to resort to such cheap tricks just to brush off someone.

And then there comes that statement, telling me that the other person (whom I still suspect to be your girlfriend) is dying to meet you. I just unfortunately heard one side of the conversation. And no matter how proud you are in displaying that theory, I still don’t swallow the entire thing. And I think you exactly know why.

But still I am giving you the benefit of the doubt. I wouldn’t gain anything in accepting or dismissing your theory, no matter how absurd I think it is. I just play with your ideas, thinking that it’s too innocuous, to begin with. It’s just that—an idea of yours. Nothing more. But maybe, less. Who really knows?

There’s just one thing that bothers me. With all that manly audacity, why do you still have to inhale Ventolin everyday? It’s probably your means to increase your hormonal rage. But last time I checked, it’s for asthmatic.

a reason to celebrate.

2005-08-01T03:12:00.000+08:00

Only few people know how difficult your life has been. Being born in a family of good standing, both literally and figuratively, the idea of one day waking up devoid of anything to support the entire family was, at the very least, disheartening. But you took the stride, not with disdain, but with an optimistic attitude. And only few know that at the age of nine, you had to climb trees to gather fruits in order to sell them at school.

But life, for you, did not end there. Your father’s penchant for gambling had caused a sudden and tremendous financial downpour. As a result, the succeeding years had resulted into a series of consequential decisions. Year after year, you had to literally beg to your godfather in order to continue schooling. You took every opportunity to go to a wealthy friend’s house in order to be able to eat decent meals. But you faced life, not with contempt or resentment, but with a zealous disposition that one day things would be different.

But it was not as easy as you thought it was. At the young age of 17, you had to go to Manila in a futile attempt of a better life. But things remained the same, at times, even worse. Having been forced into a totally unfamiliar jungle, you had to accept peculiar jobs that demanded labor for a very meager compensation. It was more than the usual eight hour task, and more often than not, the wage was barely enough. But you took everything lightheartedly, believing that your effort was not put into waste.

The jobs ranged from a peanut factory worker to a saleslady in the then NEPA Q-MART. Renting a small room at 10th Avenue, the everyday jeepney ride exposed you to female students wearing white uniforms eagerly walking towards the then venerable University of Sto. Tomas. It was your dream to one day wear the same white uniform, not minding tomorrow’s meal or rent, but just concentrating on your studies. It was wishful thinking, but it was a good starting point.

A door laden with opportunity finally opened when you went back to Bicol. There was an urgent need for an in-house staff in a local convent on the island of Mindoro. Thinking that Mindoro was Mindanao, a place too remote and too far from everybody else’s, you took the chance. Realizing that the island was still part of Luzon, the initial enthusiasm was diminished. But the chance to study proved to be too good to be true.

It was in the convent that you realized how fortunate you were. The jobs were only the usual household chores—cleaning, cooking, going to the market, sewing. In between long hours, you were allowed to go to a local college run by priests. Despite the household chores, you still managed to join a dance group and a theatre guild. And your grades were even far better than those students who enjoyed tremendous amount of free time.

Four years passed, and graduation followed. It was bittersweet. You had to leave the convent and the people you called your family in order to seek higher grounds. You applied for a position as a school librarian. Armed with wit and talent, you got the job immediately. It was, as you thought, the start of better days.

But better days seemed elusive. The school closed and you’re one of the unfortunate employees who was not absorbed by the other private school. But, as an adage goes, in every door that closes, another window opens. There was an opening at the government owned AQUAPHIL. After taking the exam, you were asked to report the next day sans the required interview.

During these peculiar times, you got married. Despite the seemingly high income of your spouse, you had to accept the condition that he, the eldest male, still has to send all of his siblings to school. This is the responsibilty your husband took upon himself after his father died. Being the wonderful wife that you were, you agreed. It was not easy, but you shared in your husband’s dream to see a brighter future for his siblings.

But the marriage you adamantly held as sacrosanct had to be sidelined by an order of priority. Realizing that the money has now been divided between the original and the new family, there ensued a silent altercation. It was a terrible battle to begin with. You were alone, staying in another person’s home, fighting for yourself and what you believe was right. During this time, you can’t find the needed support. You started questioning yourself about the battle between your husband’s family and his new family. You realized that in this kind of battle, sacrifices should be made.

You left the island of Mindoro and went back to your home province. It was an abrupt decision. You were already pregnant, but it still did not deter you to finally settle the conflict in your own way. But love, as they passionately say, can move mountains. Your husband had to fetch you and plead before you that life without you is not life at all. You found it reckless, but sweet. You decided to give love another chance.

The years that followed were finally gracious. You were offered a scholarship at the University of the Philippines in Diliman for a master’s degree in Library Science. You graduated with top honors, delivering the graduation speech in behalf of the class. Your desire for higher learning proved to be too consuming. You took up another master’s degree in Business Administration at the University of Sto. Tomas. Again your performance proved to be exceptional. Then there’s the inevitable doctorate degree.

Life has been different since then. There are no more trees to climb. No more gloomy nights thinking what the future holds. It is all too different now. And as you celebrate your precious day, you have decided to attend a recollection in a secluded area inside a convent. Your intention is noteworthy—to reminisce your life for the past 49 years.

Today, you will be given a chance to look back at all the decisions you have made. Some are good; while others are indeed questionable. But looking at your life, all I can say is that it’s an amalgam of treasured moments. It wasn’t rosy. It wasn’t perfect either. It has its shares of ups and downs. But, that’s why your life’s worth living for. The mistakes that you have encountered along the proverbial road made you a tougher person, a better person. And for that, I am eternally proud of you.

Happy birthday, Ma! Cheers to fifty years of choosing a life less ordinary. =)

stolen from everyone else's.

2005-07-29T00:46:00.000+08:00

You are American Gods! You are mysterious,
intelligent, and creative. To the rest of the
world you may seem a little standoffish, but
really youre just a quiet person. Youre sort of
bookish and are intrigued by mythology and
fairy tales. You might be Wiccan or Pagan,
either that or youre unreligious. You have a
sarcastic sense of humor and are the kind of
person people like to talk to because youre
such a good listener.

*~Which Neil Gaiman book are you?~*
brought to you by

a touch of luck.

2005-07-28T12:05:00.000+08:00

I chanced upon a coin, which I think is lucky. It’s a five centavo coin, the one with a hole at its center.

It all started after receiving a loose change from a hundred peso bill. After buying some items at the local friendly convenience store, the cashier gave me the coin, together with some other coins. It was really unpleasant at first as I have to endure carrying some 12 one peso coin and some five peso coins inside my pocket.

At first, I placed the five cents at my back pocket, in order to separate it from the other coins. I realized that my mood changed after that, as if something has told me to return it back to my left pocket. In a jiff, I actually did. Good things have happened since then.

Many people (myself, not included) would spend good money in order to avail of lucky pendants or things that might make them more successful. It’s not really a new thing. Even during the early dynasties, our ancestors and that of other nationalities believe in certain items that would provide good fortune. For instance, Chinese business people place the image of Buddha, a frog, or some other ancient animal in order to ensure luck on their side. Japanese, on the other hand, place the ‘waving cats’ inside their homes or in their stores, as it was believed to be a means to achieve a person’s dreams. In African culture, there are some tribes who carry feet of a swift creature for it was believed to be a means to escape an enemy.

History would tell us that people have been inclined to accept superstitions as part of everyday life. It’s called by different names, but the general prevailing idea is the same—to attract good fortune and to fend off evil. Even those people who are wary of these superstitious beliefs sometimes bend their principles when they chance upon things that cause them good fortune.

Science has constantly dealt with talismans, charms, and other ‘magical items’ with much skepticism. The reason for such skepticism is that these things obviously deviate from the general principles of Science. Still, many people cling onto these ethereal things as a source of temporary refuge against the many evil things that lurk in this world. And no one can really blame them.

Believing in an item that could provide luck is not bad per se. In fact, if we ought to think about it, there’s nothing really wrong in it. It’s something that you hold onto to feel a bit more courageous in facing the world’s uncertainties. The bad part attaches once an individual uses the lucky charm to answer all of his problems. Or just expecting luck to take its proper course, without exerting any effort.

My Dad would argue that it’s not really the talismans that work; rather it’s attributable to people’s perceptions. The mind, according to him, is so powerful that it could conjure a world wherein everything is working in a person’s favor. In this type of situation, everything is sugarcoated, and most of the time, the unfortunate events are dismissed or just simply not taken cognizance of.

Still, even if it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, I am still holding on to this coin. Just until I pass my Civil Procedure subject.

writing anew.

2005-07-27T00:32:00.000+08:00

“Luv nakauwe na b u engat u”
–a text message coming from the man sitting beside me inside the LRT2.

The advent of telecommunications has proven to be breaking boundaries in terms of grammar and sentence construction. Not to mention, spelling. Gone are the days when people would write carefully constructed sentences on perfumed papers. (Well, nobody trusts the ordinary mail system anyway.)

Cellular phones have paved way not only for an easy communication, but for breach of numerous basic laws on grammar, spelling, and syntax. You’d receive a text message, ‘B der n a whle’, and would not mind anything at all, thinking that the message cuts across.

In effect, people are creating a new language, or a form of communication gaining fast acceptance. The difficulty lies on how to interpret the symbols to form a decent message. Not everyone knows that fyi stands for ‘for your information’. Or wru is an abbreviated from of ‘where are you’. The ideal thing is, majority of cellular phone users should be familiar with the basic tenets of this so-called cellphone language. The problem is, not everyone is.

With the inevitable creation of this new form of communication, Filipinos are impliedly changing rules on sentence construction. Many do not know the difference between may or mayroon, for instance. Or when to use raw from daw. But these discrepancies would not be imposed anymore since the limit that separates them is gone.

The sad part is, the Filipino language, which many do not consider the official language, is bastardized in the process. The irony of course is lost on the acceptance of this language. Nobody complains anymore if nakauwe if different from nakauwi, (bearing in mind that the latter comes from the root word uwi). Who cares if someone sends bkt instead of the traditional bakit? So as long as the message is clear; then everything is perfectly understandable.

Language, as we are told, is dictated by what people use in a given point in time. Years from now, there would be obscure words that would be totally identified as part of our language. There would come a time when messages like this, ‘Wr r u nw? W8ing 4 a lng taym.’ will be considered as normal. And that might be just a few years from now.

As a preemptive stance, don’t start lecturing me about being nosy. =)

please stop!

2005-07-24T00:34:00.000+08:00

It appears that Our national leaders are becoming oblivious to the prevailing sentiment of the Filipinos. It a time where unity is needed; instead divisiveness continues to haunt us. It is often too quick to easily point at the mistakes of others without considering one’s own moral integrity.

This is not a tribute to the current President. In fact, I do not personally like her. Though, this sentiment is overwhelmed by a more important factor to consider—doing something for Our country.

In this time of political malaise, it is but important to consider the effects of all the political rants and bickering to the common people. Yes, consider the effects to the man who drives the jeepney, to the person who sells balut, or to the woman who washes laundry. They are the ones who are mostly affected by the incessant telltales inside the chambers of politics.

In spite of the jitters, it seems that Our politicians are exploiting the current petrified ambience as a means for their own benefit. The opposition would want to stage a mass revolt to unseat the current leadership. The problem with being used to mass actions is that the delineation between the rule of law and the rule of the mob has been limited. Order and mayhem now seems to stand on the same ground.

Time’s proving to be difficult, and so as Our politicians. It seems that in a state of apprehension, opportunism seeks its ground, finding its nichè. To counter this, a more sober public should be aware of the turn of events. We, Filipinos, are mandated not to grow oblivious to the innate perils of pointless adventurism.

The band that We ought to stretch has its limits. We cannot forever resort to forced resignation in order to change the government. We cannot elect leaders and defeat their right to govern though an inevitable mass action in the streets. Mass action should be the last resort for there is an immense difference between the search for truth and a clamor for personal gain.

To exploit such right is to trample the very essence of Our democracy.

important, yet boring.

2005-07-19T01:44:00.000+08:00

In the Revised Rules of Court, the crime of rape has been removed from the list of private crimes. The so-called private crimes refer to those offenses wherein only the offended party (in the first line), or his parents, grandparents, guardian, or the State (in the succeeding lines) are allowed to institute the complaint or information. The removal of the crime of rape means that even the State might institute the offense. Unlike in the previous rule, if the offense is not instituted by the above-mentioned persons, it could be a valid ground for dismissal.

The move came after the crime of rape has been changed from crimes against chastity to crimes against persons. Being a crime against persons, the State might institute and prosecute any offenders or persons responsible for the act. Technically speaking, there’s nothing wrong with the decision. Rape, being inherently evil, is a kind of offense wherein the ends of justice should always be served.

But the previous rule provides a choice for people who are victims of rape (it being included before), abduction, seduction, or acts of lasciviousness to either embrace the embarrassment of public trial or suffer the outrage in silence. By giving them the choice to file the case or not, the victims are being put in a situation based on their own choice.

Imagine the effect of changing the rule. A rape victim, even if that person does not want to be publicly humiliated, has to undergo trial because the filing of the complaint could be commenced by the State in his*/her behalf. The option, once given to him*/her, is no longer a valid prerogative. The only available recourse is to recount the sordid tales which led to his*/her abuse.

It might be easy for other people to say that filing the complaint is the most logical thing to do. But for someone who has been a victim of abuse, retelling the events in front of so many people is the least encouraging thing to do. In some instances, wherein the accused is a high-profile person, the presence of media could be a more intimidating event for the victim.

If we think about it, the removal might be said as prejudicial to the victim. Instead of being granted an option, the Revised Rules of Court removes such right from the rape victims. There’s nothing left for them but to embrace the embarrassment of public trial.

This is one revision that should have never happened.

*The second form of rape under the Revised Penal Code could be done to a man; thus the necessity of including the pronoun his and him.

usual Saturday conversation with my folks.

2005-07-11T22:10:00.000+08:00

Me: Hi. Ma.

Mom: Is Gloria still in Malacañang?

Me: Last time I checked, she still is. Though I haven’t talked to her after the GloriaGate incident.

Mom: Where are you?

Me: Rockwell, with my newspaper friends. At the Neil Gaiman event.

Mom: You’re with Neil Gaiman?

Me: No, I’m with my friends at the Neil Gaiman event. You always confuse things.

Mom: What’s with the accent?

Me: What accent?

Mom: That one.

Me: Ha? What are you saying? That’s how I usually speak.

Mom: No, it’s different.

Me: So, what’s happening there?

Mom: Nothing much.

Me: So, did you receive the first installment from CHED?

Mom: Not yet. I think the delay was connected with the reorganization of CHED. DECS now has supervision over CHED.

Me: I see. Probably, they just don’t want to release the check. You know how the government works.

Mom: I hope not.

Me: Just don’t submit the second and the third compilations of your survey. Do you think your President would be ousted?

Mom: Why do you always refer to her as ‘your President’?

Me: Well, for one, you voted her last elections. Another, you voted her last elections. So, do you think she’ll be ousted?

Mom: Well, there are many forces working against her now. Cory for one told her to step down. Some of her cabinet members also told her the same thing.

Me: I read that in the papers. I’m asking for your opinion.

Mom: That’s my opinion.

Me: What?

Mom: That there are forces already working against her. We’ll see what will happen in the succeeding days. They will be very crucial in determining her fate.

Me: That’s a very safe opinion. Don’t worry we’re not being wiretapped.

Mom: That’s not funny.

Me: It didn’t intend that one as a joke.

Mom: Here, talk to Papa.

Dad: Hello, M.

Me: Hey, Pa.

Dad: Why are both of you speaking in English?

Me: I have no idea.

*end of conversation*
*my battery conked out*

lost while writing.

2005-07-08T02:11:00.000+08:00

There’s an article in The Malaya Bulletin about Court of Appeals (CA) Justice Romeo Brawner replacing COMELEC Commissioner Virgilio Garcillano. The first part contained the usual 5Ws and 1H, the required lead in every news article.

The succeeding parts of the news article focused on the educational background of Justice Brawner and his various positions in the government before being named as the CA presiding Justice. It provided the usual Curriculum Vitae type of information, detailing every major and minor position held by the former CA Justice.

That’s typical news.

The next part was totally unrelated and quite perplexing. After being bombarded with information about Justice Brawner, the same article suddenly gave a detailed account about the position of Commissioner Garcillano. Well, technically speaking, that was still related. The subsequent paragraphs, on the other hand, were totally lost. The writers retold the entire ‘Hello Garci’ tape and the current stand of different people.

Talk about transition.

Next, they included the possible whereabouts of Commissioner Garcillano, even mentioning the movement of events regarding the House inquiry on the recorded conversation. The article wasn’t done there. It even included that the tapes came from former Sen. Francisco Tatad.

The supposed article about the appointment of Justice Brawner ended with a statement from Commissioner Garcillano. Commissioner Garcillano reminded the public that there were other political figures during the previous National Elections who also talked with him.

The news was what Nini would call as ‘chopsuey’, one that contained too much information without finding a common thread in the first place. Worse, these developments were not even separated by captions to distinguish one from another. They were just placed there, in obvious disregard on how the audience would perceive such fragments of information.

It just goes to show the effects of the country’s current plight. I don’t need to spell it out, right?

malum prohibitum.

2005-07-07T01:43:00.000+08:00

Legally speaking, PGMA did not violate any law.

If you look at this from the point of view of the law or the Philippine Constitution, there’s nothing really there that would indicate a violation or breach of any of its provision. Theoretically, GMA made a ‘lapse of judgment’, and not a culpable violation of the Constitution or any penal law.

Lawyer Allan Paguia speaks of malum prohibitum, which is considered wrong because it is made so by a statute as differentiated from malum in se, which is inherently wrong. For instance bringing a gun during election is not inherently wrong, but because of the gun ban during such period, it becomes an offense (malum prohibitum). Mala in se refer to crimes such as homicide, rape, robbery, to name a few, which are considered intrinsically evil.

There are two questions connected with the conversation with COMELEC Commissioner Garcillano. First, was it connected to her duties as the President? Second, was her function as a President necessary to carry out the conversation? These two questions might be decisive on the supposed culpability of the President. Sadly, both answer in the negative.

As a President, talking to a COMELEC Commissioner is not prohibited. Considering that they (Commissioners) are appointed by the President, the latter exercises a supervisory power over them. Therefore, talking to one of them is not legally wrong. Talking to one of them is not even connected to the exercise of the duties of the President. Therefore, the President can not be prosecuted for violating the trust of the People. The violation of trust is supposed to be connected to the duties given to her. That is my stand, but it does not mean that it’s the correct one.

On the second question, the Office of the President is not a necessary element in having a conversation with a COMELEC Commissioner. Anybody can do it. Any person, whether in the government or private sector, can talk to someone coming from the COMELEC Office.

So, when Atty. Paguia declares that GMA is liable for a malum prohibitum, I am wondering what particular law he is referring to. Of course I am not familiar with all the laws in this country, and all Filipinos know that this is one country with an abundant supply of laws. They (meaning people from Congress) just never stop making new laws or amending provisions of existing laws.

What GMA did was an issue of morality. When a current President and at the same time a candidate of an election talks with a COMELEC Commissioner, it signals a wrong message. But, people from the opposition who were also occupying different positions in the government, talked with other COMELEC members during the elections. So, what’s wrong with GMA’s case?

What’s wrong with the picture is that the president exercises the power of appointment over the COMELEC people. Being the official responsible for the appointment of these people, she obviously has an ample amount of influence over them. The implication is that any conversation regarding a member of the COMELEC is tainted with anomaly. That is the presumption, subject to evidence proving otherwise.

Legally speaking, GMA is safe. Morally, that is another question. Then, again, is there still someone morally fit in the government?

law school brouhaha.

2005-07-04T01:26:00.000+08:00

Number 1.

Teacher: There are two classifications of persons, right?
Student: Yes, Sir.
Teacher: And what are they?
Student: Sir, natural and juridical persons.
Teacher: So, what do you mean by natural persons?
Student: Sir, they are products of God.

Number 2.

Teacher: What are taxes?
Student: Sir, they are the forced impositions of the State to generate revenues coming from the income of the people or the business they are engaged into.
Teacher: So, what is taxation?
Student: Sir, it the process wherein the State imposes taxes to the people.
Teacher: Then, what are taxes?
Student: The process of forced imposition of the State to generate funds.
Teacher: What again is taxation?
Student: Ummm, sir, it is a subject.

Number 3.

Teacher: Is it true that there is no class tomorrow?
Student: Sir, we’re all praying for that to happen.

Number 4.

Teacher: What did you learn from Labor Laws?
Student: Sir, they deal with laws about labor.

Number 5.

Teacher: Can a minor file a case?
Student: Sir, only with the assistance of his parents or his guardian.
Teacher: What if the parents refuse to assist the minor?
Student: Sir, they can’t.
Teacher: Why not?
Student: Sir, because it’s for the benefit of the minor.
Teacher: How will the minor be benefited?
Student: Sir through the damages he will receive.
Teacher: What if the minor loses?
Student: Sir, he will still win somehow. He will have that altruistic feeling of filing the case in court.

her next move.

2005-06-29T01:50:00.000+08:00

After admitting that it was indeed her voice in the wiretapped conversation, what would be PGMA’s alternatives?

First, she can resign. Though this is obviously out of the picture. At this point, the President would never consider abrogating her office for someone else. This is synonymous to suicide in ordinary parlance. Aside from that, the question of who would succeed her is inevitable. Under the Constitution, Noli de Castro would succeed. The thought is just depressing.

Then, there’s also the possibility of being impeached. Lawyer Oliver Lozada has already filed an impeachment complaint in the Lower House. The problem is, the case is being derailed by the lack of support from the representatives in the Lower House. The number of opposition members would not suffice to carry the impeachment case into the Upper House. Following the same contention, the impeachment case would just be an exercise in futility.

Another possible consequence is removal from office by means of mass revolt. Though this is highly unlikely, judging from the lukewarm response of the people from the two previous demonstrations initiated by the opposition. The weather has also been a factor for the number of people who march into the streets. Every time a militant group attempts to stage a mass demonstration, the weather suddenly goes berserk.

The suggestion of Sen. Aquilino Pimentel and former Sen. Raul Roco to stage a snap election also seems unlikely to happen. A snap election is costly and the results might be tainted with fraud. Max Soliven provides a good insight by saying that it is the same people from the COMELEC that would count the votes in the snap elections. If the integrity of these people is questionable, then how would the voters be assured that the snap elections is not tainted with dishonesty? Good point.

Of course, the Filipinos can forgive her for her supposed ‘lapse of judgment’. Then, again the issue of moral ascendancy comes into play. If the President of the Philippines, the highest official in the land, can simply get away by saying sorry, what does this event tell of us as a nation? That the moral consideration can be simply fended off by admitting the mistake and blaming it through a ‘lapse of judgment’?

In any case, it’s good to be PGMA at this time. Everything seems to be working in her favor.

save me.

2005-06-26T00:35:00.000+08:00

I feel lost. But don’t give me a map or direction, it would not help.

I feel lost. I feel that things are not in its proper place. Or should I say, I don’t know what these things are.

You see, a normal event that would scare someone would not scare me. For instance, if a policeman picks someone and interrogates him (her), that person would feel scared. But I didn’t. I was just cool and composed. Not because I know I didn’t do anything bad (stupid, is more apt), but because I just don’t feel anything. I didn’t feel fear, fright, or anxiety.

There are times when I just want to disappear. And, if I would come back to my senses, I would just sleep, thinking that such trivialities would never happen in the first place. It’s absurd to feel hollow or empty, especially if a person is bombarded with so many things to accomplish. But, there are certain days that I just feel like an empty shell.

And like many other people, I would want to be saved.

From what? I don’t know.

dinner pics.

2005-06-24T00:35:00.000+08:00

It was a rainy Thursday evening, but Faye’s birthday was nonetheless splendid. I have seen some of my friends whom I haven’t met for the longest time. There’s Ria, whom I have last seen two summers ago in Galera. Kate was also there, fresh from her US’s trip. Though Carrie, Carla, and Rache weren’t there to celebrate Fay’s birthday, the entire evening was still a memorable event.

Dana was late because of a car incident that blocked the entrance of Rockwell. Tina also came late because she accompanied her dad in a dinner patry at Armida Siguon-Reyna’s residence.

We had fun. Again, we’re playing cam whores. So, please bear with us.

***

(standing: emil. kate.seated: brye. me. faye. eka)

(standing: emil. kate. riaseated: brye. me. eka)

(standing: kate. emil. riaseated: brye. me. tina. eka)
(brye. me. eka)

posting about the lamp.

2005-06-21T01:18:00.000+08:00

There’s a peculiar event that happens whenever I walk.

A lamppost either turns on or shuts off. There’s no day that this incident has not happened. I am beginning to think that other species are actually sending messages to me through the lamppost. About the message, I have really no idea. Or probably, I’m not just smart enough to decode it.

I still find the entire thing strange, similar to an episode in The Twilight Zone (insert immortal theme song here). What is more eerie is that it never fails. I have mentioned this thing (or whatever you call it) to two groups of friends, and they have both witnessed such account. One has even conjured an explanation. The verb, of course, refers to a product of his highly imaginative mind. Mr. XYZ says that there’s nothing wrong about it. He furthers that whenever a vehicle passes, that the lamppost would either shut off or turn on. Funny thing is, two vehicles have passed and nothing has happened. When we were directly above the same lamppost, it died. Talk about his logical explanation.

This thing-event-occurrence-incident-or-whatever-it’s-called has also happened near Robinson’s Place in Manila while I was on my way to Starbucks in United Nations, the one situated at Manila Pavilion. A particular lamppost suddenly felt that its light was not needed anymore. Bonkers! It was gone. (The light, of course, and not the lamppost)

Being a fan of absurd theories, I am opening my blog to anybody who can provide a decent explanation about such incident. Don’t be shy. Just remove the alien angle because I have already thought about that.

Weird, when this idea popped into my head, a lamppost suddenly lost its light. Oh, if you don’t find this weird, we’re not residing in the same universe.

Sky's the langit.

2005-06-16T23:40:00.000+08:00

This was one of those silly remarks we often used during our (Sarah, Djong, Kristine, Tish) stay in the publication. There were others, of course: ‘I’ll burn the bridge when I get there’, ‘Cut him some slacks’, ‘You’re barking at the wrong dog’. They’re funny, and obviously innocuous. And this type of humor will only work for grammar freaks. Though you can always disagree.

But what if these types of language are used in textbooks? Grade school students reading Science books named Simply Science in the Next Century (which is wrong since the word simply is an adverb and cannot modify a noun) would find such phrases all over their textbooks. Would they go to the teacher and point out the mistakes? Or would they simply ingest everything that is written in the book as the absolute truth?

In an article in the The Philippine Star entitled Grade school books: errors still abound, Antonio Go, academic supervisor of Marian School, claims that two textbooks put out by Phoenix Publishing are fraught with grammatical errors. These textbooks, one from Science and another in English, almost have 261 errors in each book.

A grade two pupil would read a sentence: His ears got sick or The late pupils missed her lessons. A grade three pupil would be confronted with a more complex sentence than the lower year: The enkantada (fairy) fell in love to a handsome man who fell in love to a pretty lady.

Talk about grammar. How about the context of these sentences? The same English textbook has offered quite a few gaffes: The symphony was so huge and hard to play. The sea was restless like a giant tossing and snoring in his sleep. The earth is a basketball that rolls and rolls. He loved to play so much that he kept his toys the moment he became aware of them. Speak loudly for the protection of the earth.

In Science the errors are not just blatant, but totally absurd. In one of the Science textbooks, a hunchback was described as one who could not stand straight. So anyone who could not stand straight is automatically a hunchback? There was also a statement inaccurately put, “They breathe because they have lungs.” Fish breathes because of gills. Plants, because of stomates.

Go opines that the mis-education of Filipinos will continue if Science textbooks continue to describe mummification as “a drying process that forms fossils” or muro-ami as “fishing method using sticks and rods.” And there’s a health entry that offers an advice to a Grade V pupil: “Have regular checkups for STDs even in the absence of symptoms.” Sex education is one thing. Careless information is another.

The sad part is, 12 of the Science textbooks were written by teachers from Ateneo de Manila Grade School while the other 12 English textbooks were written by members of St. Theresa’s College’s teaching and administrative staff. Go asks, “Who pays for the mistakes kids ‘learn’ while they are supposed to be learning in school?”

Now, don’t shudder at the thought of a college student saying, “Let’s make tusok the fishball.”

the bridge between two worlds.

2005-06-15T01:24:00.000+08:00

In most of Mukarami’s novels that I have read (Sputnik Sweetheart, Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, The Elephant Vanishes), the author is suggesting the possibility of two parallel worlds.

Though this idea is nothing new, there exists a trace of originality in Murakami’s stories. The first philosopher (that I could think of) to use such concept was Aristotle. The man believes that a person’s soul belongs to the world of ideas, but such soul is trapped in a human body in the world of forms. The soul needs to remember things while inside the body (or container). The process is called anamnesis, and only through this will the soul be able to return to the world of ideas.

Rene Descartes might be impliedly suggesting the same theory through his development of the famous philosophical quote, “Cogito Ergo Sum”. In the process, he advances that even the senses could be deceived; therefore, in order to test one’s existence, a person has to go back to his definition of self. My explanation seems too inconsistent, but this is how I remember my college philosophy class discussion.

Sigmund Freud might be another philosopher propagating the same concept. Though in his case, he uses something more tangible—the human mind. According to him, the mind (or consciousness) is made up of three vital parts—the Id, the Ego, and the Superego. The first controls the wants and desires. The second is the middle ground between the Id and the Superego, acting as an arbiter. The last is responsible in providing for the rules of good behavior.

If this concept is as overused as it seems, then why do I say Murakami’s concept is original? The concept itself might seem too trite, but his presentation isn’t. Imagine this: someone telling you that your perception of reality might be deceived by certain circumstances. Big deal, you might say. Think of a spoon placed in a glass of water. There’s a refraction of light, and the spoon seems bent. But that explanation is already a fact, coming from the volumes of science books we have had since elementary.

Then imagine this: Someone tells you that your brain is capable of producing an alternate reality wherein you can virtually create anything you want. That the brain is nothing but a medium between the two worlds, both anticipating for your presence. And that your presence in either world fills an empty container until fragments of reality are being placed into their proper order.

And what if in such worlds, one event has an effect on the other? Or the other way around. Would it not astound you to know the limitless possibilities of your existence and at the same time the effects it might conjure?

What makes Murakami’s works original is not because of his meticulous explanations about the bridge between both worlds, but how the audience’s mind comes up with the detail about the possibility of each world’s existence. Murakami challenges the readers to invoke the power of the mind in creating a sub-reality, or another system in this seemingly transitory world. And in this aspect, he achieves with great pride.

And before long, you’re hooked.

discovering the heat source.

2005-06-14T03:10:00.000+08:00

“Everybody’s born with some different thing at the core of (his) existence. And that thing, whatever it is, becomes like a heat source that runs each person from the inside.” —Murakami, The Wind-up Bird Chronicle

There are various things which could drive a person to commit an act. Some say they are innate in a person. Others argue that these things are scattered all over the universe. In both cases, such forces, in one way or another, propel a person to perform either a laudable or a foolish deed.

Love for instance drives an individual to commit irrational (yet romantic) acts, which would not be done under ordinary events. Though it seems silly to quote the movie A Lot Like Love, I would still do. The movie passionately encourages, “If you’re not willing to sound stupid; you don’t deserve to be in love.”

Hate, on the other hand, is similar to a thin dark silhouette waiting for its time to strike. It strikes when the tension has reached unimaginable proportions. It unleashes its fury akin to that of an overflowing cup wherein nothing could be done to prevent its spillage.

These are basic emotions lurking in each one of us. We love to do something. And in this same universe, we just hate doing another thing. Other types of emotions may come into picture—sympathy, revenge, pain. But, is it possible that there would only be one thing that would serve as our battery in this game called life? Is it possible that there’s only one force-thing-emotion-0r-whatever-it’s-called that is responsible for our continuous existence?

If you think about it, the initial reaction would be: No. And the explanation might be anchored on the finicky attitude of the people. Well, majority of us are. And no matter how adamant we are in denying such thing, we are really finicky over a certain thing. We might not be too choosy with regard to food, but we are, for instance, finicky with clothes. Or vice versa. And that attitude (of being finicky) affects most, if not all, of our decisions or choices or the emotions that come into play.

But this so-called ‘heat source’ that Murakami propagates might be something more than the basic human emotion. Murakami might be impliedly telling us that each person is born with a basic primal desire which needs to be fulfilled. And that desire is what keeps us going (or living). Or that such desire is responsible for our existence, in the first place.

The sad part is, a person may or may not discover such thing during his (her) lifetime. Other people might feel it, but may not totally realize its meaning. While others might be fortunate enough to become aware of it.

The funny thing is, more and more people now are searching for that ‘heat source’. Many believe that life is not just a random encounter with the unknown, but rather an organized array of events waiting to be discovered. And in this game, knowing the ‘battery’ or the ‘heat source’ is crucial in order for these things or events to make sense.

In case you’re curious, I haven’t found mine.

no other way.

2005-06-11T23:31:00.000+08:00

PGMA won’t be stripped off her constitutional mandate to govern the country. It’s not because Filipino people are still willing to endure another blow. It’s just that there seems to be no other way.

The current situation seems to be working in GMA’s favor. Imagine that despite the continuous political upheavals aimed at her and her family, she still manages to get back on her feet.

It all started with the passage of the VAT bill. Then, another blow came in the form of her lowest survey rating since 2001. Then, there’s the Jueteng scandal that hit her family. Now, the tapes.

It seems that there’s no room for the President to maneuver. The incessant attacks aimed at her and her family provide only little space for a counter-offensive measure. Anybody would have easily surmised that it’s a bad call for the president, and a worse situation for the country. But sometimes, even in the worst situations, somebody just does not give up what he or she has. Or, probably, not willing to give it up.

In case of GMA, it’s not a question of the willingness to give up, but the situation that will follow, in case she decides to resign. Though many people in various sectors call for her resignation, their pleas seem to be a divided stance, not really aimed at solving anything. For instance, military people want someone from the military. The opposition wants Susan Roces or Joseph Estrada (see, the opposition can not even decide who would replace her). The civil society wants a panel composed of people with different areas of expertise. And in this situation, nobody wants to Vice-President to replace GMA.

It’s a tough call really for everyone. And GMA sees this as a form of salvation. As long as nobody would be fielded for her position, it appears that her throne is still safe. And though there are continuous calls for resignation, these things merely serve as aimless shots into a vague target.

Now is a good time to unify forces. Question is, who is really willing to?

question of precedence.

2005-06-09T14:52:00.000+08:00

There’s a positive way of saying this.

It has long been argued that Filipinos have a short term memory. Events that have happened in the past are seemingly forgotten. Many fault Filipinos for the continuous problems that besiege them saying that these are products of their lack of vigilance. The carefree attitude of Filipinos translates to a continuous cycle of abuse.

There’s a good point in this argument. It seems that the Filipinos’ chutzpah for political activities lasts only for a fleeting moment, only until the time that the news is still fresh. Afterwards, everything is buried into oblivion, including the interest of the majority. Or some dismiss the story simply as another one of those ordinary political bickering.

But there’s more to the story than a short term memory lapse. Filipinos can be considered as enduring folks. But the system seems to be taking its toll on the Filipino people. And it takes more than being enduring in order to change the current system. And with this mentality, many are becoming indifferent.

The attitude of indifference is something that attaches to a more personal level. Filipinos are becoming indifferent, not because they believe that the system is lost on corruption, but because they believe that personal affairs should take precedence above all other things. How will you compel an average Juan dela Cruz to take his cudgel onto the street and protest if in the process his family will become hungry? Many think that before attempting to change the system, the initial reaction should be geared towards the family.

If you think about it, it’s not really an issue of short term memory lapse; rather it’s a question of precedence. And for most Filipinos who live below the poverty line, the process of changing the system can wait, but the mouths of their family members can not.

a generation of show-offs.

2005-06-06T01:29:00.000+08:00

The incessant number of people enrolling in the gym, wanting the perfect abs, the increase in the number of dieting books in local bookstores, and the bombardment of television ads concerning loss of weight suggest one thing—this generation would do everything to attain the ideal, if not the perfect body.

Nip &Tuck passionately encourages (though in an amusing manner) perfection. “If you can’t attain perfection; you might as well be dead,” so it says. The relationship of the two doctors is sidetracked by the grueling experiments brought about by plastic surgery. You get the idea, and it doesn’t need an attuned viewer to know the rest of the plot (per episode).

Of course, it’s not the transformation (through the end result) that matters, but the process of attaining it. The show, like many others (The Swan, etc) capitalizes on existing insecurities in order to gain the audience’s support. These shows believe that people still find it necessary to alter anything that does not conform with the concept of beauty. As such, they tend to create beauty based on the products they sell (or how they normally perceive it).

Which goes to the main presumption: the idea that perfection can be attained makes people invest (and spend good money) in these things. And normally the end result does not disappoint them. Chiseled abs, leaner muscles, fat free bodies make the investment all the more enticing. And it doesn’t need a genius to realize that many companies use this as an advantage to exploit the market.

Not that we do not know of this. The problem is, many think that this event is simply the product of the zealousness of today’s youth. That such behavior springs from a simple desire to be physically fit. Not that there’s a problem thinking about the development of the physical trait, and flaunting it, if ever the desired result will be achieved.

The irony, of course, is lost on this event becoming a craze. If everybody will achieve a gorgeous body, then it will become a common thing, and not become a cause of any fuss. But that’s far from happening.

light as a feather.

2005-06-03T13:10:00.000+08:00

Coming from the Chief:

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Mike.
2. Moyk (baptized by Djong).
3. Michael.

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. nEyhER.
2. the magician.
3. Miclo.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. eyes.
2. feet.
3. my fingers.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. height.
2. hair.
3. nose.

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. Filipino (which includes Tagalog, Ilonggo, Bicol, Waray).
2. Spanish (my mom’s side).
3. Chinese (my mom’s side again).

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. being stupid.
2. disappointing my parents.
3. not knowing what I want.

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. food/water (to keep me alive).
2. book (to keep me sane).
3. Starbucks (to keep me going).

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. People are People shirt.
2. faded maong pants.
3. Diesel shoes.

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS:
1. Vertical Horizon.
2. Goo goo dolls.
3. Norah Jones.

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS:
1. Come Away with Me (Norah Jones).
2. Wonderwall (Oasis).
3. Broken Sonnet (Hale, currently my favorite song).

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1. Trust.
2. Space.
3. Plenty of decent conversation.

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE (in no particular order):
1. I am an only child.
2. I am not a virgin.
3. I love balut.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE PREFERRED SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. Height.
2. Nose.
3. that something.

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Sleeping.
2. Reading books (law books, now).
3. Finding well-lit study areas (coffee shops, I mean).

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. Read as many books as I can.
2. Try bungee jumping.
3. Go to Amanpulo.

THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING/YOU'VE CONSIDERED:
1. Lawyer (law profession).
2. Professor (education).
3. Professional Taga-hilot (to my mother).

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. Monaco.
2. Greece.
3. Amanpulo.

THREE KID'S NAMES YOU LIKE:
1. Katya.
2. Denise.
3. Anthony.

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. Write a book.
2. Be filthy, filthy rich.
3. Build a library open to the public.

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY:
1. I can sleep anywhere without a fuss.
2. I can survive a day without going to a decent bathroom.
3. I collect things women would call junk (comic books, action figures, etc).

THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A GIRL:
1. I am vain.
2. I am finicky with food.
3. I love shopping.

THREE CELEB CRUSHES:
1. Angelina Jolie.
2. Natalie Portman.
3. Wonder Woman (Diana, of DC fame).

THREE PEOPLE THAT I WOULD LIKE TO SEE TAKE THIS QUIZ NOW:
1. Kata (so, she’ll depart from her usual posts.)
2. Jaem (so, she’ll be obliged to post something light.)
3.Markus (so, he’ll post.)

either or.

2005-05-30T22:48:00.000+08:00

I have never been mean to anyone, I think.

I don’t normally give “hellish” stares to people who did not meet up to my expectations—a waiter forgetting something, someone stepping onto my shoes, or a girl accidentally hitting me with her shoulder. I just usually walk my way and ignore what has happened.

I also do not start stories fraught with ill-will, but I am not your typical saint either. I also commit blunders, lie every now and then, and even sugarcoat things. But as far as I am concerned, I have not crossed the boundary of civility or decency.

Now, I am thinking if this is a good or a bad trait.

Society has sometimes been a desolate interface between being trampled upon and trampling another person. Though there exists a middle ground of mutual admiration or alliance, the fact is, such statement applies to many things.

The problem is, many comment that being good-natured is lost upon the concept of being trampled upon. Many people would abuse such behavior, to the point of crossing the boundaries of decency. Many argue that is a common trait of people to abuse if they find a reason to or if someone gives them such impression.

Of course, I am not generalizing. Though there are those people who do not abuse the trust and loyalty reposed to them, many believe that such is a dying trait similar to chivalry and honesty. The world today breeds competitiveness to the point of losing basic moral virtues.

If being good translates to being weak, does it mean that a person has to cruel in order to be respected? If being kind means being abused, does it suggest that people should act crudely in order to be recognized? I don’t think so.

Being good has its perks—a decent smile, a cordial greeting, or even a sincere acknowledgement. The bottom line here, I think, rests on being able to know when being abused. At first, one should never use a cruel language to get the message across the board; instead a gentle reproach would be a better alternative.

But if this style works for everyone: I think not.

safe streets.

2005-05-25T22:11:00.000+08:00

I love to walk.

Walking for me is more than a hobby, but a stress reliever as well. The busy day, normally fraught with stress and tension, can be easily removed by a few nonchalant steps into an unknown territory.

I usually find solace in the tranquility of the street, away from the maddening crowd and the incessant movement of vehicles. The absence of people and the coldness of the night provide a feeling of total indifference.

But the perception has changed because of a single incident. I was mugged while walking in one of the dark alleys heading towards my apartment. I was not robbed. I was just attacked for no particular reason.

The first assault came from behind. Not being able to sense danger and plan any move, other men started throwing punches at me in different directions. Five of them just gave me a beating on wherever body part they might hit. The first few punches were painful. But I was not able to feel the succeeding punches, either because I felt numb or because they made no difference at all.

Fortunately, a patrol car was in the vicinity. Hearing the siren, the assailants fled in different directions. I was bleeding profusely. My white shirt was filled with blood coming from a wound near my left eyebrow. My left eye was swollen and so was my right temple. I walked a few meters to the nearest convenience store to buy water, and then started pouring water on the wound. The clerk was speechless, just gazing at me occasionally thinking what had happened.

I walked home without my shirt. It was only a few meters away, but I felt that I was walking around 10 miles. I can not look at the street since I covered my wound on my left eyebrow. And the visions from my right eye were blurry.

I was rushed to the hospital and my wound was stitched. It was one hell of an experience. I was still thankful that my attackers did not have knives or guns with them. Or else I might not be here typing this story.

I will continue to walk, though I am wary of my safety in the streets.

from left to right.

2005-05-19T22:36:00.000+08:00

In a democratic society, man’s prized possession rests on his firm belief in the rights granted to him by the fundamental law of the land. Through them, an individual’s civil liberties entitle him the feeling of security. For without these rights, freedom is nothing but a silent whisper in a dying night.

The theory is, a civilized and democratic society ensures that every citizen is accorded what is due to him. Daily activities bombard us with terms such as due process, innocence, and freedom of speech among other things. But what if such rights are nothing but written products of intelligent minds? What if these rights are only limited in the scrolls of legal documents?

Theoretically speaking, the existence of basic human rights provides a peaceful co-existence between parties concerned such as the government and its citizens or the employers and the employees. For instance, the presence of Collective Bargaining Agreement in labor organizations ensure that both the employer and the employee come to a common agreement with regard to the terms and conditions of employment.

This is of course an example of an ideal situation. But how can it happen if 90 percent of the labor force has not even touched the Labor Code (LC), and 85 percent of managers have not even read it. Considering the basic provisions of the LC govern the working relations between the employer and the employee, the statistics seems pretty awful.

The right to strike (termed as concerted peaceful activity) is also included as one of the bill of rights. Motivations for the right to strike vary, such as higher wages, improved benefits, work atmosphere, as well as on the basis of race, religion, ethnicity, or sex.

The right to strike is supposedly the aftermath of a failed compromise between the employer and employee. When employees think that their rights are aggrieved, they go to the streets in order to voice out their concerns. The abundance of everyday stories highlighting (and exaggerating) strikes hits Filipinos that such things are normal daily activities. They are treated as normal as the increase of the diesel or gasoline prices.

But the essence of such right is overshadowed by the inability to produce the desired result. A strike is seen as a mechanism to voice out concerns, to probably, at a certain point, listen to the grievance of the workers. But after some time, the workers are placed on the losing end, either by demoting these workers or totally removing them from their previous positions. Therefore, the idea of having such right is defeated by the fact that people (or workers, for that matter) are not favorably benefited.

The right to bargain and right to strike are two of the few rights granted to individuals. However they are lost on the non-effectiveness of their presence. The consequences do not always foretell a beneficial or tangible solution; rather a hodge-podge of awkward theories, not aimed at resolving any issue, is given.

What does this really mean?

People rely on their supposed fundamental law to safeguard their interests. Apparently, the fundamental law is unclear about the benefits that can be derived from these rights. They merely serve as a guideline on what rights can be exercised by an individual, but the over-all capability of these rights to produce change is questionable. This becomes a disappointing situation.

The problem is, people seem to be content on having these rights without realizing if these rights are able to deliver end results. Majority of the people think that having something to use (or misuse) is better than none at all. That having these rights translates to being free. Or at least that’s what they would want to believe. Though having these rights but not being able to deliver is similar to a half-hearted act of kindness. And in a county that prides itself as democratic, this does not come close to the concept of democracy.

Does this mean that everything is lost? Not really. It provides us with a clear picture of the Philippine setting and even the concept of democracy, the Filipino way. And in this picture, it shows, literally and figuratively, that we have much to do before we can call our country as truly democratic.

display of colors.

2005-05-13T18:16:00.000+08:00

...the four pillars.

silent spot.

2005-05-11T18:59:00.000+08:00

in the middle of nowhere.

within reach.*

2005-05-10T14:57:00.000+08:00

* taken in my previous apartment.

early sunset (conclusion).

2005-04-15T16:54:00.000+08:00

I felt the emptiness of the room, and a pang of depression sulked inside me. I looked around and all I saw was a big room devoid of anything. I sat on my favorite chair, one that was given to me by my Mom. I tried to analyze the implication of my dream, if there was any.

My mind was wide awake. It was one of those irritating moments wherein you would want to fall asleep, but things are forcing you not to. So instead of going back to bed, I went to the living room to find a book. I found a copy of Murakami’s The Elephant Vanishes in my book rack. I flipped through the pages and started reading the short story entitled The Dancing Dwarf. Though I read the book four times already, I felt that whenever I am reading any short story in it, the story presents a new world to discover.

After reading the story, I looked at the watch again to check the time. It was now 5:15, and I can already see traces of the sunlight. I went back to my bed to finally rest, but my mind was still traveling to unknown grounds. I just looked at the ceiling. Then, after some time, my eyes shut. I was able to finally sleep.

sic

It was a heavy knock on the door that made me awake. Following my instinct, I rushed to the door to see who it was. It was the security guard in my apartment asking me to sign some documents about the forthcoming power supply interruption. I just obliged without asking any question. Then, the lady guard gave me a copy for my own perusal. Afterwards, she left.

I placed the paper on my table. I checked the time again and realized that it was 9:15 exactly. So, I was able to rest for four hours. I considered it as a good rest. My body thought otherwise. I felt that my tendons and ligaments were about to snap any moment from now. I stretched them to placate the tightness, but to no avail. I just decided to take a shower.

The dog’s message was still thriving inside my head. I have a day to live. “What if it’s true? What if I am going to die today?” I asked myself. These things cannot be dismissed off lightly, I told myself.

sic

I then went to my closet and packed my things. I could not remember the exact reason for doing this. I just neatly packed my favorites clothes and placed them inside a luggage. I arranged them according to colors, from light to dark hues. I also placed inside the luggage some of my favorite books. I placed the luggage near the door.

The succeeding events to follow were a bore. I checked the Comics Section and inquired if it already has a copy of the JLA vs. Avengers Series. I have been checking on that series two months ago. As always, the store has no available copy yet.

I bought a book in PowerBooks. It was Frank Kafka’s Metamorphosis. It was overpriced, but I have already psyched myself in buying a Kafka book. So, I thought it would not matter how much the price was.

I then went to Starbucks and ordered my favorite drink, Strawberries and Cream Frappucino. I talked to the Baristas in the store, all of them being acquaintances. I went to sit on one of the couches and started reading the book. The book, though fraught with humor, was a tragedy. “Just like life,” I thought.

sic

It was four hours and thirty minutes past noon. I decided to go to the park, and take an afternoon stroll. It has been decades since I went to the park. I just walked and glanced at the people there. There was a dad carrying his child on his shoulder. The kid was laughing, while the dad was smiling. “Ideal setting,” I said. There were some couples talking. Others were having a picnic on a Friday afternoon.

I walked forward and went to an ideal spot—a tree giving shade to a bench in the middle of the park. I sat there and looked at the clouds. The sun was already about to set. The birds were flying towards home or some other place. The horizon was fraught with shades of orange and pink. It was a time when night would suddenly eat up the entire place and provide gloom and sanity at the same time.

I looked at the sun. It was sad for it was about to retire. I closed my eyes. I felt the same thing for myself.

early sunset.

2005-04-14T16:04:00.000+08:00

It was a peculiar dream.

It was one of those dreams that was so vivid that every detail remained intact inside my head. Though there was nothing extraordinary in my dream, I still considered it peculiar for there were certain things that should not be there.

The first part seemed normal. It actually began with a backdrop of a blue sky, with puffy clouds moving into one direction. I followed the clouds, but they appeared to be heading nowhere. They just moved from west towards the south. That part of the dream was just similar to a regular Sunday afternoon stroll in the park. It was a surreal take on a leisure cloud gazing (if ever there’s a term).

After some time, I retired myself in finding where these clouds would finally stop. Feeling the burden of the entire experience, I tried to sit on the field to rest. During this time, I thought that my eyes were playing tricks on me. I later found out that they were not. A cluster of puffy clouds formed into one big shape similar to that of a dog. (Though I found out afterward that it was only an image I conjured in my mind.) Instead of barking, the dog talked. Yes, similar to any other human being, the dog started saying philosophical words.

At first, I was not able to decipher any of its statements. They appeared to be some cryptic messages, but were being delivered in an ordinary understandable language. It took some time (and lengthy effort) to finally understand the dog’s statements. (It was a dream, so everything seemed surreal.)

The dog wanted to tell me that I have only one day to live. “How sure are you?” I asked the dog. “Very very sure,” it replied in a bored tone. After that, the dream was cut and I was taken back into reality.

sic

I told you that the events were very vivid. I looked at the watch and it was 3:19 in the morning. I did not feel that sudden gush of heartbeat, or that feeling where one needed to catch his breath. But, my mind was wide-awake, as if things were forcing me to remember the exact words of the dog: that I have only a day to live. And in that part, I was particularly sure I heard it right.

I tried to dash into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I can still feel the sweat in my head and nape. I opened the ref to get a water. The water, contained in a used Cola bottle, is too cold. I poured the bottle to fill in half of the glass. Then, I guzzled it down to my throat, unmindful of its coldness. But, I felt my throat complained.

to be continued....

finding Truth.

2005-04-13T01:36:00.000+08:00

I chanced upon a copy of the latest issue of The Bedan, the official publication of the College of Arts and Sciences in San Beda College. In it, there was a page solely allotted for the letters of apology and a letter of clarification arising from an election brouhaha (protest, if you want to be more civilized).

It was nothing new, actually. My stint in the newspaper has its shares of errors and grammatical booboos. And these errors, I might surmise, will be carried into my grave. What made this one in The Bedan particularly distinct is that a professor acknowledged his mistake, together with one of the writers. Two letters of apology were given in order to answer for the accusations made by a student regarding the changing of grades.

To make matters worse, there was a libel case slapped before them (the writers, the editor in chief, and the entire publication). In the complaint, the student (through her lawyer) would want the columnist to retract his statement. Unless the columnist issues a letter of apology, the student will be forced to file a suit in court. Exactly, that’s what the columnist did. In the same sheet, the student allegedly responsible for the changing of grade also wrote his personal stand. The entire page appeared to be that of two people defending one story, in the name of campus journalism.

That’s the problem with campus journalism or any story for that matter. The people involved will present their side of the story, in different fashions. It normally causes confusion. The two sides of the coin, makes it even more difficult to ascertain the Truth. Confronted with a challenging task, most people present the two sides of the story, and let the readers discover the Truth. This, I think, makes everything all the more complicated.

Truth, as elusive as it may seem, is not lost. That is something I’ve learned personally in the newspaper. It was difficult, especially that really ‘important people’ seem always to be in a rush. But that did not prevent the gallant men and women to provide pretty decent articles.

Writing is one thing. Writing, armed with facts and the Truth, is another. The distinction lies on the eagerness and ability of the journalist to discern news from any other story, from a simple or plain reporting to a truthful account of events.

To write boldly about the development of events is a feat. To write about the Truth is noble. The problem is, nobody appears to be interested in finding the Truth nowadays. Whatever sells, no matter how exaggerated or unethical, that’s considered as the Truth. Writing now becomes a profession, not a proud trademark.

maling pakikipagsapalaran.

2005-04-10T22:31:00.000+08:00

Binubulag ng gabi
ang mga matang mapaniid,
at ang mga tanong na nakabibingi
ay hindi nagbabakasakaling
basagin ang katahimikan.
At habang patuloy ang pagtahak
sa daang lumalagom sa kawalan,
katahimikan lamang ang nagbibigay hudyat,
na maaaring tumuloy sa kakatwang pag-usad.
Walang pangitain o katanungang nagmumula
sa mga mapangahas na labi;
at mamamalas sa bawat kilos

ang hindi pag-iinda sa sanlaksang abong
nagmumula sa mga ibang nakikipagsapalaran.
At sa kahabaan ng daan, nagkaroon ng pagkakataong
mag-usisa.
Nagmula sa isang inosenteng pangungusap;
at tumuloy sa pinaka-puno ng pakikipagsapalaran.
Ang mga matang mapaniid ay tumiklop,
at ang katahimikang nakabibingi ay binasag
ng isang katotohanang mapait.
Unti-unting dumaloy ang mga luhang pinigilan,
ng isang libong pangyayaring binalot ng pagkakataon.
At sa bawat pag-patak ng luha

ay nakahihinga ang pusong nakapinid;
mula mga pangakong panandaliang kumiliti,
sa isang pusong pilit na nagpapaka-bato.

science of happiness.

2005-04-07T00:48:00.000+08:00

In an article in Time Magazine (February 2005), the new APA president ventured into finding the reason for people’s happiness. Instead of the traditional studies concentrating on 0 to -5 (causes of depression and other ailments), the new APA president would want to find out what makes people’s heart beam with joy. In it, there was a feature about the Filipinos penchant for happiness. Though it seems that the entire article does not portray the Filipinos’ attitude as an all too favorable trait. It even says that Filipinos’ being happy is a way of survival, instead of a goal.

Given the current situation in the country, anybody with an IQ higher than 60 can be able to surmise that happiness becomes a way of life. Compared to first world countries wherein happiness is seen as a goal, Filipinos view happiness as a temporary means to escape the current situation that he or she is in. Most of the time, that situation is either nerve-wracking, hell, or simply challenging. The easiest way to fend off a bullish situation is to make fun of it.

And that’s what everybody is doing. Filipinos tend to ‘escape’ everyday activities through a bombardment of trivial things, mostly comical in nature. The local tsismis for one is an example. Gossips, though sometimes true, are mostly exaggerated, to the point of absurdity. The guys’ drinking spree is another. Though some does not consider this as a source of happiness, ask any male specie on this planet. He will say otherwise. Drinking sprees can be a source of amusement and even a good laugh.

The problem is, Filipinos tend to be escapists. And the drug that helps them is happiness. Instead of confronting the problem outright, they tend to ward it off with a dose of happiness. Though there’s nothing really bad if happiness is used in few amounts. But, oftentimes, people tend to use it in excess of the so-called normal dosage. As a result, there exists a situation wherein a ‘happy world’ is seen as the real world. Which is not addressing the main problem, in the first place.

The Filipinos’ ability to ward off unnecessary thoughts of depression is laudable. Instead of wallowing in despair, most simply enjoy the company of others in order to share a good laugh. But, we, Filipinos, should not always be masking the real problem by injecting happiness into it all the time. By doing so, we might be creating a more complicated situation than the one we are actually handling.

To be happy is a gift. Knowing how to be happy is a talent. But all that is excessive is not good, even happiness.

happiness inside the box.

2005-04-04T23:44:00.000+08:00

Happiness has been elusive to me for the past few weeks.

(Define happiness.)

It is difficult really to find happiness nowadays. Complex as it is, the world offers transitory things to satiate man’s need to be happy. There are limitless things that can make us happy, so an advertisement goes. And offering a metal card as a means to achieve happiness seems to be the perfect solution.

(It is manifested by an external act such as laughing.)

The degree of happiness differs as man’s progresses, both mentally and emotionally. Though it seems that the concept becomes even more complicated as years pass by. The definition of happiness from a point of view of a five year old kid is going to Jollibee or McDonalds. From a point of view of a ten year old kid, either getting a new Zoids collectible or a new toy. Though it’s not entirely complicated, but merely attuned to the perception of a certain age group, there still casts a shadow of doubt.

(Wrong.)

We tend to associate happiness with smiling, with laughing. That by being quiet or aloof, people tend to think that we are gloomy or depressed. Society believes that happiness, like all other things, should be contained in its own definition of things. Being happy should be equated with laughter, with stifled giggles.

(So, what is happiness?)

I cannot personally define each one’s version of happiness. But my own is that peculiar feeling that the day ended right. That I will be able to sleep well, not because I have accomplished so much, but because I would want to tuck my (not so lucky) self in bed, and eagerly wait for tomorrow’s sunshine. That’s how I gauge my happiness. And while doing that, I try to remember the day’s events that made my heart beam with joy.

(Define happiness.)

I can’t define happiness, but I can describe it. I am happy when I see a family go out together to hear mass, reminding me of my family’s. I am happy when a kid smiles at me, for such innocent smile never fails to capture my heart. I am happy when I see that another person’s life becomes bearable by a certain act that I did. Or that someone would be in a better position because of something I wittingly or unwittingly accomplished.

(Are you happy now?)

The past few days have been kind.

trapped in the middle.

2005-03-31T18:01:00.000+08:00

I haven’t felt this emptiness for a long time. And there should be an emphasis on the word long.

During the Holy Week, I was alone in my apartment, with nothing else to do but read or sleep. The bombardment of similar (or trivial) things seemed to take a toll on me. The entire week (believe me) was similar to an episode in the Twilight Zone. The entire building appeared to be a desolated jungle fraught with prying eyes, and even more enigmatic tales. The room gave me the impression that it was one huge box (or a containment cell), and I was the guinea pig.

Then, I decided to visit nearby churches. There were two near my apartment, just a few meters away. I prayed really really hard in order to fend off this feeling of utter boredom. My prayer was not answered. Probably, I did not pray hard.

The days to follow were more horrible. It was as if something was eating me up. And the more difficult part is, I do not know what to do or how to address the problem. Being confronted with a complicated situation is already tough. Not knowing what to do can be pretty nerve-wracking.

So, I simply decided to sleep. I thought that one day, when I wake up, this feeling would be completely gone. I was wrong. Dead wrong. In the succeeding days, the emptiness within grew to an enormous size that I was not even able to control it. The result was not good. The adjective alone was not sufficient to describe the effects.

Things are now starting to go back the way they use to be. Though there are still remnants of such depressing feeling, I am being able to do the usual things that I do. Although I am still experiencing sudden kicks of depression (if not melancholy), I try to liven up my day by doing something productive.

I would want to believe that things are back to their normal state. I’m crossing my fingers. And I’m still praying hard.

her paraside.

2005-03-29T17:11:00.000+08:00

She runs in the desolated jungle of emptiness armed with an innocent laughter. Hers is a movement laden with passion, if not pure bliss, unmindful of the noise and haste around her. The land, far from being barren, serves as her momentary refuge. She draws her unbridled enthusiasm from the emptiness that cascades from within.

She runs beating the wind’s speed, yet not wary of the filth that envelopes her paradise. The incessant movement of others produces small insignificant sound that does nothing expect whisper unheard hymns to her ears. She continues to roam akin to a child in a playground.

She runs and shouts sounds of sheer pleasure. The echo reverberates in a place of desolated solitude. It shatters the nonchalance that embraces its existence. Her voice finds its niche, in a seemingly peculiar ground.

She runs freely in her paradise called Quiapo. Filthy, wrecked, broken. But she finds solace and happiness in the most unusual place. I just can help but smile.

of nails and exams.

2005-03-19T03:24:00.000+08:00

I have this peculiar superstitious belief during examination week. It’s horrible, I know.

I don’t cut my fingernails during that span of time. (Sarah’s voice over) Yes, I know, it’s really horrible especially if the exam week would go on for a period of seven days or more. I am also appalled by this rather unusual behavior of mine. But, similar to almost all superstitious beliefs, I have my own story to tell.

I used to cut my nails during the elementary and high school days during the exam week. But whenever I do it, my grades would suddenly hit rock bottom that I am thrown into this state of bewilderment pondering on the accuracy of such results. I cannot imagine how I would be able to receive such grades. Yes, I sound arrogant here, but elementary is still elementary. You get the point.

So, I attempted to do the horrible. I did not cut my nails. This was in reference to a certain regional competition wherein I forgot to trim my nails, but I was able to receive the 2nd price. “Imagine that,” I told myself. Yes, I talk to myself at times, just like many of my friends. (I hope you don’t deny this one.)

The reason is more absurd than the usual. I am entitled to it, after all, this blog is intended for absurd thoughts. I think that the knowledge I accumulated from memorizing voluminous law books are not only stored inside my head, but in my nails as well. Therefore, if I cut them, there is a tendency to suddenly forget everything that I have studied. It’s a really pathetic explanation, but this would suffice for now.

The problem starts after the fourth or the fifth day when the nails start to grow. They start to accumulate dirt. Dirt sticks inside, which is oftentimes difficult to remove, unless of course there’s a natural talent in removing these things. Really, now. The problem becomes even more complicated because there’s an impending desire to just trim the nails. And this is betrayed by my odd superstitious belief of getting good grades.

Good thing though, my final exam ends tomorrow.

the gauge of masculinity.

2005-03-18T01:40:00.000+08:00

The stiffness of the classroom discussion was eased by injecting thoughts about the length of a man’s or a woman’s lifetime. The subject being Insurance Law, a subject that measures the duration of a human being’s lifespan as the basis of the payment of insurance premiums. The discussion became seemingly light when the teacher, one of the few immortals, suddenly injected his thoughts about man’s propensity to live a shorter lifespan compared to that of a woman’s.

The basis, according to Dean Jose Sundiang, is the innate ability of women to discharge their emotional tension unlike that of the men. Thus, men are more prone to psychological disorders because they tend to bottle up their feelings to themselves. As a result, they tend to create these disorders that could have been otherwise prevented.

Oh well.

But that’s not really the point of my post. The light classroom mood was betrayed by the statement of pure nonchalance relating to the universal fact that ‘men do not cry’. The otherwise careless statement was based on a traditional viewpoint about man’s impenetrable emotional defense. And I can’t really blame my professor for saying such statement. After all, his generation was brought up to believe that men are emotionally unyielding, while women are more fragile.

Does it still apply today? Is the basis of masculinity still man’s inability to shed tears in spite of a very moving event or circumstance?

The propensity to become too emotional has not been man’s usual domain. In fact, even up to this time, many still think that men, especially those purporting to be the head of the family, should be dense enough (emotionally, of course) to give sense to the proverbial term ‘pillar of the family’.

Personally speaking, I do not agree. Masculinity does not depend on man’s ability to be as solid as a rock in times of emotional anxiety. The movement of times calls for man’s sensitivity to the attendant events. The period of troglodyte men is a bygone era, buried in the caves of ancient history. Though the semblance still exists, few men are emotionally numb nowadays.

Though there still exists that cultural impression, the present society is becoming more lenient about man’s emotional apathy. It actually acknowledges man’s choice, if not a given right, to be emotionally charged at certain situations. But such is not absolute, for there are still those people who maintain the traditional borders given to the male and the female sexes. And the men should still be contained in the box devoid of sappy feeling or emotional liberty.

If that would still be the basis; then I obviously fall short.