paolo's pen: My two cents' worth on The Da Vinci Code
I normally shy away from religious topics. It's a no-brainer that you will reap the thunder everytime you bring it up and therefore it's a no-winner to even start a discussion.
Whenever some kind of religious content such as "The Passion of the Christ" two years ago or "Da Vinci Code" I am more apt to shut up than invite some form of discursive debate about the religious merits of said movies. Like discussions about politics, religious discussions can be really energy-sapping.
Now, I haven't really seen "The Da Vinci Code" and didn't think about the books of Dan Brown until some acquaintances who have illusions of being literati (as I do, incidentally, hehe) and most of my friends were raving about it. Shocker! Shocker! There is a hidden story in the life of Jesus Christ! There is a grand conspiracy behind the biggest business venture of all time! People should really come off it ---a little hurting is useful for a lot of learning. With all due respect, one source of our accepted history and world-view is not necessarily the best.
I've read a lot of the literature built into the history of the Church, including some of the liberation theory-inspired works that emphasize Jesus as a harbringer of social consciousness that echoes in the need for human development in the poor countries of this era. We even spent a whole deal of our Religion classes in the latter part of high school dealing with social and moral issues --- rather than pinning our minds to some of the absolutes.
I can spin as many yarns as possible on the true value of spirituality in making for good living --- as opposed to pursuing holiness for its own sake. Well, nobody did credit for me being one of the true believers, anyway. But I won't spin, not at all.
You see, if a thing of fiction like "The Da Vinci Code" insults you and offends you, then shoot, you can exercise your due right not to watch or read it. Do everyone a favor though, and get your information straight before shooting off your mouth. I can attribute the majority of this type of misunderstanding from pure ignorance. Boycott the movies of Tom Hanks, Ian McKellen, Ron Howard, and the production company. They're blasphemous, good heavens! We must rally to protect the faith! Suddenly, I find myself wanting to laugh out loud. The utter pretension of such do-gooders! If God is as rock-solid as you say you believe Him to be, He will find a way to work this out in the end.
Or, on the other hand, if "The Da Vinci Code" (the book, because I think the movie will be formulaic and passe) awakens you and disturbs you about your faith, it is prudent not to go overboard. A germ of doubt is always the seed of faith. Doubting is not the absence of faith. Rather, it is all about one's wanting to believe.
As for the atheists and the nihilists, I'd listen to you but I'll mince no words about it --- it's hard for me to care about what you have to say. I like science and the "religion of science," but deep down, I am still a believer.
I still believe in a true God who is not bound by the usual borders of our own conception. God is beyond sex, beyond race, beyond dietary practices. Since I have been immersed in the Christian mysteries, I choose to follow this path of enlightenment, and it's not for me to say whether a Muslim, Buddhist, or any other person of whatever creed is dead wrong. What I find most disturbing is that people anoint themselves as "guardians of the faith" and attack others for their different beliefs. If all of these absolute moralists are correct, then no one is bound to be saved. All of us will expect a Hell or its equivalent.
Earlier this year the Muslim world went up in arms over a lampoon. Could we Christians afford another kind of narrowmindedness?
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Almost Friday
in(s)ane ramblings: may 19's friday five
I'm not really a member of their circle, but doing this is just as fun even if I know my friend Nikki's friends won't read my blog as regularly as they would read hers.
1. What type of mood are you generally in on a rainy day? - lethargic, sentimental, and if I'm with the right person, romantic.
2. What are your favorite things to do when the weather is gloomy?- curling up with a good book is the best. Having some warm soup. In the old days, burning the phone lines with someone.
3. Have you ever been kissed in the rain?- No, I did the kissing.
4. After the rain stops, do you continue what you were doing, or do you run outside to do something else? - Are you kidding? I'd rather stay where I was.
5. What is your favorite drink/food to have when it's raining outside?- The instant soups are always the ones available (sigh). Otherwise, La Paz batchoy with all the trimmings or steaming beef bulalo matched with some deep-fried hito or bangus. Wash it down with a little beer when I feel like it.
Yeah, I'm getting hungry just about now. (Shoot, you're always hungry, chief!)
I'm not really a member of their circle, but doing this is just as fun even if I know my friend Nikki's friends won't read my blog as regularly as they would read hers.
1. What type of mood are you generally in on a rainy day? - lethargic, sentimental, and if I'm with the right person, romantic.
2. What are your favorite things to do when the weather is gloomy?- curling up with a good book is the best. Having some warm soup. In the old days, burning the phone lines with someone.
3. Have you ever been kissed in the rain?- No, I did the kissing.
4. After the rain stops, do you continue what you were doing, or do you run outside to do something else? - Are you kidding? I'd rather stay where I was.
5. What is your favorite drink/food to have when it's raining outside?- The instant soups are always the ones available (sigh). Otherwise, La Paz batchoy with all the trimmings or steaming beef bulalo matched with some deep-fried hito or bangus. Wash it down with a little beer when I feel like it.
Yeah, I'm getting hungry just about now. (Shoot, you're always hungry, chief!)
Gut Check
| Your Job Dissatisfaction Level is 45% |
 Well, you don't have the worst job in the world, but it's not great. And don't worry, you're not the problem - your company is. Start looking around for another job, even if you're not totally fed up. Because in time, you're going to be dying to quit! |
Stricken
"It is by will alone I set my mind in motion. It is by the juice of Sapho that thoughts acquire speed, the lips acquire stains, the stains become a warning. It is by will alone I set my mind in motion."
-- the Mentat Piter de Vries
I spent the better part of Wednesday through Saturday trapped in the hospital nursing an acute case of gout. I guess I had it coming. I hadn't been taking good care of myself lately and with my mind focused on the "Otherness" of my vacation I wasn't paying attention to ME.
I had taken Sunday off as I had posted earlier but I couldn't shake off the hurting in my right foot. Meantime, I was apprehensive of self-medicating as both our Company medical policy and common sense were built-in restrictions. On Tuesday evening the throbbing was unbelievably painful I couldn't sleep. It wasn't a biggie on the Scale of Unbelievable Pain --- I haven't reached that state of physical pain for a long time --- but it was still painful, mein Gott!
Tuesday evening I loaded up on water --- lots of it --- to help relieve the pain. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate was my mantra. Problem was, every now and then I had to do number one and I had to drag my fat ass to the toilet on a bum foot. I had to sleep on the couch just to be able to manage the distance.
Finally I gave up. I lay back and thought of all the scenarios so that I could get to the hospital in one piece. My landlord (the leaseholder) and his family were all on vacation, leaving my other flatmate and I in charge of the apartment. I asked him eventually to bring me to the hospital at about 7 am. I was figuring that a little shot of painkillers from the ER would do me wonders and I could go merrily go on my way to work.
Secretly though, I knew that I couldn't have gone to work in my current state. Instead of the self-medication regimen, I decided to take advantage of our full-featured medical plan. Still, I've always hated the notion of going to hospitals even if the whole hospital experience was balanced out by seeing pretty nurses and/or doctors (the chances of the latter are slim here in KSA). The last time I was hospitalized was a life-changer: I could say that my life turned around beginning that last hospital stay in May 2001. Of course, backsliding, physical and emotional, happens once in a while, as evidenced by this latest bout of sickness.
Waiting time at the ER took almost five hours --- they got my blood work, x-rays of my right foot and my chest, even an ECG --- before the insurance company finally decided to admit me to the hospital, during which, to my dismay, all my plans of going to work and having a productive day were ripped apart.
It was noontime by the time I got to my room on the fifth floor of the hospital. The room was bright - it was facing the sea - but otherwise it was warm. Something must have been wrong with the ducting of the room or the a/c unit itself, since according to the nurses the temperature control was linked to that of the ICU. Since I didn't know I would be in the hospital for longer than usual, this didn't seem too bad to me in the beginning.
(Yeah, I know I regretted it...)
I'm familiar with the drill in hospitals - I've stayed long enough in hospitals as companion or as victim (ehem, patient) that I could go with the schedule and routine with my eyes closed (even if there are special conditions for each patient, the drill is still the same...). Blood tests as required. The butt injection. Intravenous nutrition (yummy!) as required. Getting yourself awakened by some nurse so that you can take your lousy medicine.
The things I hate most ---being immobilized by the IV and then having to take a dump or a piss, and clammy bedsheets! (Warm room + hospital bed + fever + medicine = sweat). And --- since I didn't wisely bring any clothes, I had to put up with the dressing gowns provided by the hospital. They gave me the large ones which were still a snug fit; I actually looked an Arab wearing those long hospital gowns. We-ell, give me an extra two or three inches of height I'd be a lot happier. Not because I won't look like an Arab.
About the only consolation I had was that the nurses were pretty and nice. I had one favorite in particular, but only insofar as I believe that she is still single. I'd keep that illusion going for the meantime. Plus, they have this notion that a private room means one is mudir or boss in the company. I'd like to believe I'm important to the Company, but not so much as being one of the bosses. Lots of extra money would do just fine, thank you.
The great thing also was that my friends really filled up the place while I was at hospital. However, it was only good for Wednesday evening since I expected to get out on Thursday (see my rant below). As of today, I'm still eating apples, oranges, and crackers that they provided. My boss said one time that being hospitalized becomes an exercise in self-pity. We-ell, yeah, but it never felt that way to me, since I was surrounded by people who cared.
Never get hospitalized close to the weekend over here, and if you do, guarantee an extended hospital stay. Now, I wouldn't want to knock the professionalism and the ability of my fine team of doctors (who spent a grand total of 20 minutes checking up on me during their various rounds), but this I know about the medical profession --- some doctors aren't just meant to be, but convention and family demands put them there. I really wish I would get some straight answers --- the group prognosis was an acute case of gout.
Say goodbye to those big portions of roast beef. Say goodbye (for the meantime) to caffeine and tea. Skip the sugar! Eat more fruit and vegetables! (on the side - say goodbye to drinking sessions, to treating yourself to pork, to oily fried meals, to stuffing yourself...)
Uh-huh, yak it up. As if I'm really listening. Shoot, I'm going to have a really lousy vacation.
But seriously, I don't want to be stricken again. Let me recite the mantra:
"It is by will alone I set my mind in motion. It is by fruits and vegetables that fat becomes lean, the body gains fiber, the fiber the signs of weight loss. It is by will alone I set my mind in motion."
Until I backslide again and land in the hospital again, that is.
-- the Mentat Piter de Vries
I spent the better part of Wednesday through Saturday trapped in the hospital nursing an acute case of gout. I guess I had it coming. I hadn't been taking good care of myself lately and with my mind focused on the "Otherness" of my vacation I wasn't paying attention to ME.
I had taken Sunday off as I had posted earlier but I couldn't shake off the hurting in my right foot. Meantime, I was apprehensive of self-medicating as both our Company medical policy and common sense were built-in restrictions. On Tuesday evening the throbbing was unbelievably painful I couldn't sleep. It wasn't a biggie on the Scale of Unbelievable Pain --- I haven't reached that state of physical pain for a long time --- but it was still painful, mein Gott!
Tuesday evening I loaded up on water --- lots of it --- to help relieve the pain. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate was my mantra. Problem was, every now and then I had to do number one and I had to drag my fat ass to the toilet on a bum foot. I had to sleep on the couch just to be able to manage the distance.
Finally I gave up. I lay back and thought of all the scenarios so that I could get to the hospital in one piece. My landlord (the leaseholder) and his family were all on vacation, leaving my other flatmate and I in charge of the apartment. I asked him eventually to bring me to the hospital at about 7 am. I was figuring that a little shot of painkillers from the ER would do me wonders and I could go merrily go on my way to work.
Secretly though, I knew that I couldn't have gone to work in my current state. Instead of the self-medication regimen, I decided to take advantage of our full-featured medical plan. Still, I've always hated the notion of going to hospitals even if the whole hospital experience was balanced out by seeing pretty nurses and/or doctors (the chances of the latter are slim here in KSA). The last time I was hospitalized was a life-changer: I could say that my life turned around beginning that last hospital stay in May 2001. Of course, backsliding, physical and emotional, happens once in a while, as evidenced by this latest bout of sickness.
Waiting time at the ER took almost five hours --- they got my blood work, x-rays of my right foot and my chest, even an ECG --- before the insurance company finally decided to admit me to the hospital, during which, to my dismay, all my plans of going to work and having a productive day were ripped apart.
It was noontime by the time I got to my room on the fifth floor of the hospital. The room was bright - it was facing the sea - but otherwise it was warm. Something must have been wrong with the ducting of the room or the a/c unit itself, since according to the nurses the temperature control was linked to that of the ICU. Since I didn't know I would be in the hospital for longer than usual, this didn't seem too bad to me in the beginning.
(Yeah, I know I regretted it...)
I'm familiar with the drill in hospitals - I've stayed long enough in hospitals as companion or as victim (ehem, patient) that I could go with the schedule and routine with my eyes closed (even if there are special conditions for each patient, the drill is still the same...). Blood tests as required. The butt injection. Intravenous nutrition (yummy!) as required. Getting yourself awakened by some nurse so that you can take your lousy medicine.
The things I hate most ---being immobilized by the IV and then having to take a dump or a piss, and clammy bedsheets! (Warm room + hospital bed + fever + medicine = sweat). And --- since I didn't wisely bring any clothes, I had to put up with the dressing gowns provided by the hospital. They gave me the large ones which were still a snug fit; I actually looked an Arab wearing those long hospital gowns. We-ell, give me an extra two or three inches of height I'd be a lot happier. Not because I won't look like an Arab.
About the only consolation I had was that the nurses were pretty and nice. I had one favorite in particular, but only insofar as I believe that she is still single. I'd keep that illusion going for the meantime. Plus, they have this notion that a private room means one is mudir or boss in the company. I'd like to believe I'm important to the Company, but not so much as being one of the bosses. Lots of extra money would do just fine, thank you.
The great thing also was that my friends really filled up the place while I was at hospital. However, it was only good for Wednesday evening since I expected to get out on Thursday (see my rant below). As of today, I'm still eating apples, oranges, and crackers that they provided. My boss said one time that being hospitalized becomes an exercise in self-pity. We-ell, yeah, but it never felt that way to me, since I was surrounded by people who cared.
Never get hospitalized close to the weekend over here, and if you do, guarantee an extended hospital stay. Now, I wouldn't want to knock the professionalism and the ability of my fine team of doctors (who spent a grand total of 20 minutes checking up on me during their various rounds), but this I know about the medical profession --- some doctors aren't just meant to be, but convention and family demands put them there. I really wish I would get some straight answers --- the group prognosis was an acute case of gout.
Say goodbye to those big portions of roast beef. Say goodbye (for the meantime) to caffeine and tea. Skip the sugar! Eat more fruit and vegetables! (on the side - say goodbye to drinking sessions, to treating yourself to pork, to oily fried meals, to stuffing yourself...)
Uh-huh, yak it up. As if I'm really listening. Shoot, I'm going to have a really lousy vacation.
But seriously, I don't want to be stricken again. Let me recite the mantra:
"It is by will alone I set my mind in motion. It is by fruits and vegetables that fat becomes lean, the body gains fiber, the fiber the signs of weight loss. It is by will alone I set my mind in motion."
Until I backslide again and land in the hospital again, that is.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Vacation Mode
The mind refuses to acknowledge it, but I'm officially on vacation mode.
That's right, I don't want to work any more than I have to. It's not been a great week for me - after Dubai I was sickly and couldn't do more than usual. It's great that I'm teaching again and we're starting to do something for the play festival this September.
I felt crappy not greeting my mother on Mother's Day but after the trials of sending more money (again) back home for house repairs, I was decidedly smug. Not that I deliberately forgot, mind; it's just that I was lying back wheezing and coughing last Sunday so the thought of calling anyone was furthest from my mind.
Meantime, the bakery beneath our apartment burned another time in less than three weeks. The first one was actually dramatic (my flatmate and I actually had the chance to play heroes); this time the fire was puny and looked as if it were an act of vandalism. Expensive vandalism.
After the excitement of the TFC PopStar final and the Gloria visit Khobar life is back to its normal dullness. Yup, it can be that pathetic when the most exciting things to do are watching a hackneyed, formulaic contest and lining up to see the Merry Midget Mistress of Malacañang make mendicant promises. I did catch the "Band of Brothers" on DVD while recuperating (I still am now, my ankle is swollen and is absolutely murdering me).
The clock is now running... one month to go before my sister's wedding. I have all the reasons to be happy for her and intellectually this is something that is semi-ecstatic in nature. Deep down, of course, if I take it the wrong way it can be downright depressing.
Mabuhay ang Pilipinas!
What do I have to cheer for anyway?
That's right, I don't want to work any more than I have to. It's not been a great week for me - after Dubai I was sickly and couldn't do more than usual. It's great that I'm teaching again and we're starting to do something for the play festival this September.
I felt crappy not greeting my mother on Mother's Day but after the trials of sending more money (again) back home for house repairs, I was decidedly smug. Not that I deliberately forgot, mind; it's just that I was lying back wheezing and coughing last Sunday so the thought of calling anyone was furthest from my mind.
Meantime, the bakery beneath our apartment burned another time in less than three weeks. The first one was actually dramatic (my flatmate and I actually had the chance to play heroes); this time the fire was puny and looked as if it were an act of vandalism. Expensive vandalism.
After the excitement of the TFC PopStar final and the Gloria visit Khobar life is back to its normal dullness. Yup, it can be that pathetic when the most exciting things to do are watching a hackneyed, formulaic contest and lining up to see the Merry Midget Mistress of Malacañang make mendicant promises. I did catch the "Band of Brothers" on DVD while recuperating (I still am now, my ankle is swollen and is absolutely murdering me).
The clock is now running... one month to go before my sister's wedding. I have all the reasons to be happy for her and intellectually this is something that is semi-ecstatic in nature. Deep down, of course, if I take it the wrong way it can be downright depressing.
Mabuhay ang Pilipinas!
What do I have to cheer for anyway?
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Thoughts of the Just
The President of the Philippines dropped by Dammam last night, the last leg of her journey here in Saudi Arabia to shore up whatever support she has among OFWs as well as to work on some face-saving diplomacy. Oil discounts and promise of buffer stocks were negotiated, as well as pardon for over 200 condemned prisoners and runaway maids.
I can't help but say that she has succeeded. For good or for ill, she will stay in the saddle until 2010. Amid the clang of bells and the thundering of "righteous" anger, she has survived the vicissitudes of being a plurality President. She has staggered and has almost been unhorsed, but she soldiers on. I can't help but say BRAVO without any bitterness.
I cannot, however, abide the smugness of many of her supporters who conveniently gloss over her faults in search of "pragmatism," that her being an economist is the salve to "fix" whatever ails the Philippine economy. Before they crow about her success in turning things around, it hasn't exactly been her program that has driven such growth. One of my batchmates conveniently pointed out that the bull run in the Philippine Stock Exchange has been going on for the past three years. Hard to believe, maybe, as PSE's charts at http://www.pse.com.ph/ only go back for two years but he says that you can look up Philippines (PHI) at bigcharts.com - and one can conclude that there is a high run-up if PLDT is used as the surrogate indicator of Philippine stocks.
Speculation hovers about the war in Iraq as the start of such growth, as money once pumped into traditional investment markets now looks for second-tier markets such as the Philippines.
However, stripped of the fancy slogans and the proud drum-beating and self-preening of this administration, it is that success was reached despite the administration's utter lack of charisma, PR bungling, and consumer-oppressive policies. Or that this success is still being fueled by us, the exiles. She rightfully should court our support. Her continued stay in power depends on it.
Her policies, just like that of any President before her since Edsa, has served to deepen and widen the gap between rich and poor. Before she and her supporters claim to sleep the sleep of the just, let them think of primary causes.
Before her opponents continue with the cycle of blame, let them think of who are the real victims.
Rights don't mean a thing on an empty stomach. Economic progress means little if the poor don't share in it. And I don't mean just dole-outs or remittances - I mean for real, like having jobs and opportunities that help them escape the povery trap.
Until then, let no one claim "the sleep of the just" for in the clenches of poverty there can be no true justice.
QUOTES--->
The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration. ~ Pearl S. Buck
Meditation XVII by John Donne
from Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions
Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, morieris. Now this bell tolling softly for another, says to me, Thou must die.
Perchance he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me and see my state may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that the church is catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all.
When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that head which is my head too, and ingrafted into the body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated. God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another.
As therefore the bell that rings a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness. There was a contention as far as a suit (in which piety and dignity, religion and estimation, were mingled) which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined that they should ring first that rose earliest.
If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world?
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
Neither can we call this a begging of misery or a borrowing of misery, as though we are not miserable enough of ourselves but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbors. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did; for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it, and made fit for God by that affliction.
If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current moneys, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it. Another man may be sick too, and sick to death, and this affliction may lie in his bowels as gold in a mine and be of no use to him; but this bell that tells me of his affliction digs out and applies that gold to me, if by this consideration of another's dangers I take mine own into contemplation and so secure myself by making my recourse to my God, who is our only security.
I can't help but say that she has succeeded. For good or for ill, she will stay in the saddle until 2010. Amid the clang of bells and the thundering of "righteous" anger, she has survived the vicissitudes of being a plurality President. She has staggered and has almost been unhorsed, but she soldiers on. I can't help but say BRAVO without any bitterness.
I cannot, however, abide the smugness of many of her supporters who conveniently gloss over her faults in search of "pragmatism," that her being an economist is the salve to "fix" whatever ails the Philippine economy. Before they crow about her success in turning things around, it hasn't exactly been her program that has driven such growth. One of my batchmates conveniently pointed out that the bull run in the Philippine Stock Exchange has been going on for the past three years. Hard to believe, maybe, as PSE's charts at http://www.pse.com.ph/ only go back for two years but he says that you can look up Philippines (PHI) at bigcharts.com - and one can conclude that there is a high run-up if PLDT is used as the surrogate indicator of Philippine stocks.
Speculation hovers about the war in Iraq as the start of such growth, as money once pumped into traditional investment markets now looks for second-tier markets such as the Philippines.
However, stripped of the fancy slogans and the proud drum-beating and self-preening of this administration, it is that success was reached despite the administration's utter lack of charisma, PR bungling, and consumer-oppressive policies. Or that this success is still being fueled by us, the exiles. She rightfully should court our support. Her continued stay in power depends on it.
Her policies, just like that of any President before her since Edsa, has served to deepen and widen the gap between rich and poor. Before she and her supporters claim to sleep the sleep of the just, let them think of primary causes.
Before her opponents continue with the cycle of blame, let them think of who are the real victims.
Rights don't mean a thing on an empty stomach. Economic progress means little if the poor don't share in it. And I don't mean just dole-outs or remittances - I mean for real, like having jobs and opportunities that help them escape the povery trap.
Until then, let no one claim "the sleep of the just" for in the clenches of poverty there can be no true justice.
QUOTES--->
The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration. ~ Pearl S. Buck
Meditation XVII by John Donne
from Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions
Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, morieris. Now this bell tolling softly for another, says to me, Thou must die.
Perchance he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me and see my state may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that the church is catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all.
When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that head which is my head too, and ingrafted into the body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated. God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another.
As therefore the bell that rings a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness. There was a contention as far as a suit (in which piety and dignity, religion and estimation, were mingled) which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined that they should ring first that rose earliest.
If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world?
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.
Neither can we call this a begging of misery or a borrowing of misery, as though we are not miserable enough of ourselves but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbors. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did; for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by it, and made fit for God by that affliction.
If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current moneys, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it. Another man may be sick too, and sick to death, and this affliction may lie in his bowels as gold in a mine and be of no use to him; but this bell that tells me of his affliction digs out and applies that gold to me, if by this consideration of another's dangers I take mine own into contemplation and so secure myself by making my recourse to my God, who is our only security.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
The Things We Miss
“Labing-isang buwan kang naghihirap dito tapos ang katapat mo lang ay maliit na hiwa….”
This topic has been a constant source of laughter in our service van on the way home. Men dealing with the difficulties of separation from their womenfolk 11 months out of each year – this is the burden so many of us have to go through just to get by in Saudi Arabia. During the mornings, the mood is often somber, as each man is lost to keep his own thoughts (or go back to sleep), traveling to another day of work which is no better than a prison.
At least prisoners can get the usual visit . . .
It is not unusual then, that living in Saudi Arabia breeds unusual variants of normal relationships you would find back home. The men here are more vocal of their emotions, are more in touch with themselves, and calling somebody a “friend” carries with it a deeper meaning. Finding a friend, though still a test of hit-and-miss, can be somewhat of a risk, too, but can have its own rewards.
By this criterion, there is no real stigma for a man to be homosexual here in Saudi Arabia, where he is less bound by convention, and maintain a family back home in the Philippines. It is even more usual that a man and a woman can have two separate family lives – one back home and another here, and with as many partners as possible.
(I can consider some guys to have all the luck. Some dickhead managed to get “married” to two women at separate times, only for both of them to find out the nasty truth when they were assigned to the same shift in just one hospital. And oh, he still maintained his own family back in the Philippines. The girls were deceived, but somewhat naïve, but I can only admire the guy’s “man-gina.” Such cojones on that asshole!)
And so on and so forth…women may have an easier time of keeping their legs crossed, but sometimes only with Filipinos --- if it comes to Arabs (Saudi or otherwise) or Westerners, it’s business as usual. Sometimes Filipinas can really go slumming and go out with Pakistanis, Indians, or (gulp!) Bangladeshis. That I had hoped Filipinas would be more virtuous was a given. That such a hope was so easily dashed to pieces is semi-tragic.
It’s not all about sex, mind. There is so much more than the communion of two bodies in finding a sense of belonging. For some, too, the idea of being desired by someone else is so addictive. Even the prospect of 24/7 porn television (captured free to air, just buy the kit for about SR700) is not enough to quench that kind of desire.
And… the prospect of an eternal boner saps your brain power and deludes you to a twisted sense of reality. Don’t ask me how and why. I know.
I once said in another forum it would be interesting to derive the metrics of the status of OFW families – how they handle the separation on the one hand and what values do the children develop as a result of it. Several years ago, our organization administered retreats to high school students in Lipa. An interesting statistic was that many of these kids were sent back to live with their relatives or with one parent (mostly the dad, since the mothers were mostly domestics in Italy). Imagine the adjustments they had to make.
Money flowing into their hands, and money does not solve the need in their hearts…
And so back to the “things” we miss. Do I miss sex? (Ummm… dumb question. Let’s pretend that never came up. Move on…). Mostly, it’s the idea of being with someone. The benefits that come with it, of course, are just, I hope, as pleasurable as they can be. As a bachelor, I am what you call “deprived.” Time will only tell if I become “depraved.”
All the same, I am proud to say: I confess to being repressed! Thank God for Filipinas and the Internet!
With many thanks to Jay’s Greatest Compilation, one site that is pushing the envelope to tantalize the viewer without getting blocked by the Saudi internet police! You rock, buddy!
Saturday, May 06, 2006
By The River of Dreams I Still Wait
I'm horribly sentimental, but I hate to admit it. Who wants a sentimental goon, anyway? All those ladies who keep on saying verbal ability is something they want in a guy seem to overlook the fact that it's overrated when measured against old-fashioned good looks or masculinity.
I'm not fighting any truth over this. It just is. It's hormonal. It's the fundamental law of nature.
I spent nine days in Dubai, four days of which were for training, and most of the evenings and the rest of the other days were spent on R & R. One of my friends I met through my life here in Saudi Arabia has just been relocated to Dubai, while my sister is following her own dreams in this land as well.
In the beginning, I tried to keep track of my observations of Dubai so that I could write them here from a fresh perspective (we-ell, not really, since I vacationed a few days in Dubai last year too). All I could remark are some of the truths about people.
My sister is not what you may call a "spring chicken," and she has had her share of time on the relationship rollercoaster, some experiences of which I privately disapproved but tolerated since she was happy. She is getting married this June. I've made a few references to this in some of my previous posts, but since I haven't met her fiancee I couldn't say much.
Alan is not exactly what I think my sister is looking for - but then again, I'm in no position to judge. Still, he represents a rock of practicality and solidity that is so easy to appreciate, and if one is a woman, grow to depend upon. I have no doubt that he thinks of himself as the lucky one in the relationship, and maybe he is (actually, I believe all men are privileged to be in a loving relationship. It sure beats the animal longings of plain sex.). Even so, observing them together it appears to me that it's the opposite. Right now I can't explain why, but it just feels that way.
There is a vast desert - not only physical, but also emotional - here in the Middle East. I've been called cynical in my early incarnation as an adult, and even looking through the world through those younger eyes the measure on my cynicism meter is off the charts! I wish it could it be different, but that is just the way things are here. One just has to make the best of it.
In Dubai, the irony of it is more glaring as one would see the beauty of "progress" --- the marks of financial speculation and money laundering are everywhere. Where else can you find some model of unabated economic growth than in Dubai? The place is growing so fast the pace is downright scary. And yet, in this oasis of riches, what makes it possible is that so many talented human beings are being ground by difficult times. The more "pragmatic" ones check their morality on the airplane and leave it there --- wielding their lives as a stick in one fatal piñata game --- where the stick is actually a bludgeon. So here my sister found a love that she could call her own and something that she would like to build on for the rest of her life.
I recently read Paulo Coelho's "By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept" (there was enough time in my sojourn to Dubai for me to read) and I finally understand why it has so much power to move so many people looking for answers.
I'm afraid that it's not the answers that bind me and stultify me, but the questions that arise when I look at my life and where I am going. It's not that I'm unhappy. I'm looking for signs that all of this, all of this meandering, all of the smoke-and-mirrors, is real, and that my life as it is means so much more than the alternative.
Is it too selfish to have all that I have and dare to dream of one love, a love which has so far eluded me or I have sent away?
I'm not fighting any truth over this. It just is. It's hormonal. It's the fundamental law of nature.
I spent nine days in Dubai, four days of which were for training, and most of the evenings and the rest of the other days were spent on R & R. One of my friends I met through my life here in Saudi Arabia has just been relocated to Dubai, while my sister is following her own dreams in this land as well.
In the beginning, I tried to keep track of my observations of Dubai so that I could write them here from a fresh perspective (we-ell, not really, since I vacationed a few days in Dubai last year too). All I could remark are some of the truths about people.
My sister is not what you may call a "spring chicken," and she has had her share of time on the relationship rollercoaster, some experiences of which I privately disapproved but tolerated since she was happy. She is getting married this June. I've made a few references to this in some of my previous posts, but since I haven't met her fiancee I couldn't say much.
Alan is not exactly what I think my sister is looking for - but then again, I'm in no position to judge. Still, he represents a rock of practicality and solidity that is so easy to appreciate, and if one is a woman, grow to depend upon. I have no doubt that he thinks of himself as the lucky one in the relationship, and maybe he is (actually, I believe all men are privileged to be in a loving relationship. It sure beats the animal longings of plain sex.). Even so, observing them together it appears to me that it's the opposite. Right now I can't explain why, but it just feels that way.
There is a vast desert - not only physical, but also emotional - here in the Middle East. I've been called cynical in my early incarnation as an adult, and even looking through the world through those younger eyes the measure on my cynicism meter is off the charts! I wish it could it be different, but that is just the way things are here. One just has to make the best of it.
In Dubai, the irony of it is more glaring as one would see the beauty of "progress" --- the marks of financial speculation and money laundering are everywhere. Where else can you find some model of unabated economic growth than in Dubai? The place is growing so fast the pace is downright scary. And yet, in this oasis of riches, what makes it possible is that so many talented human beings are being ground by difficult times. The more "pragmatic" ones check their morality on the airplane and leave it there --- wielding their lives as a stick in one fatal piñata game --- where the stick is actually a bludgeon. So here my sister found a love that she could call her own and something that she would like to build on for the rest of her life.
I recently read Paulo Coelho's "By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept" (there was enough time in my sojourn to Dubai for me to read) and I finally understand why it has so much power to move so many people looking for answers.
I'm afraid that it's not the answers that bind me and stultify me, but the questions that arise when I look at my life and where I am going. It's not that I'm unhappy. I'm looking for signs that all of this, all of this meandering, all of the smoke-and-mirrors, is real, and that my life as it is means so much more than the alternative.
Is it too selfish to have all that I have and dare to dream of one love, a love which has so far eluded me or I have sent away?
Own Version
in(s)ane ramblings: friday five
I'm responding to Nikki's post (she's really pouring her heart and soul into her blog, typical of a newbie), and since I'm just clearing my desk of papers dating from last week before I left for Dubai, it's not such a bad idea.
1.) Do you like your birth-name? Why?
— Yes. When I was younger, "Joseph Angelo" was the only one that stood out in our family since everyone received mostly Spanish-sounding names. It didn't feel right to me then. Now I like it just as it is.
2.) If you could change your name to anything else, what would it be?
— Tough one. I never really thought about it, though there was one time I wrote down about 20 other names on my test paper after I read that one guy had a name for every letter of the English alphabet. I once wanted to have "Steve," "Mark," "Richard" or some other name of some cartoon hero when I was younger. Now, if it helps at all, the name I'd like would be Brad Pitt.
3.) What names would you consider giving your children?
— I'd rather my prospective wife choose the names, since the children would have my last name as part of their name forever. I even thought of having every child with the first name "J" just like for our family. The names I would pick would be: Boys -Conrado, Felipe, Victor, Joaquin, Emmanuel; Girls - Margarita, Catalina/Katrina, Christina, Victoria (naturally, yes?), Carmela. For the girls, it's easier because one of them should be named after my wife, her mother or my mother.
4.) If you had a band, what would you name it, and why?
— The first name I thought of was "Zaxxon Magma" but that was way back in the 80's. My buddy Des thought of the name "Pots and Pans" for a vocal group some ten years ago. Now I'd pick the band name from my blog title.
5.) Is there a name that you completely hate? Why?
— None I could think of. I haven't hated somebody with that amount of passion. As for my name, some classmate called me "Baby Gopher" (derived from my name, but I forget the reason why) and another "Josephus," while still another "Peto." These are the only times I hated somebody making a play on my name. "Joey" and "Joe" are tolerable nowadays. Also, I hate anyone trying to make nice with me by using my nickname when I hardly know them.
I'm responding to Nikki's post (she's really pouring her heart and soul into her blog, typical of a newbie), and since I'm just clearing my desk of papers dating from last week before I left for Dubai, it's not such a bad idea.
1.) Do you like your birth-name? Why?
— Yes. When I was younger, "Joseph Angelo" was the only one that stood out in our family since everyone received mostly Spanish-sounding names. It didn't feel right to me then. Now I like it just as it is.
2.) If you could change your name to anything else, what would it be?
— Tough one. I never really thought about it, though there was one time I wrote down about 20 other names on my test paper after I read that one guy had a name for every letter of the English alphabet. I once wanted to have "Steve," "Mark," "Richard" or some other name of some cartoon hero when I was younger. Now, if it helps at all, the name I'd like would be Brad Pitt.
3.) What names would you consider giving your children?
— I'd rather my prospective wife choose the names, since the children would have my last name as part of their name forever. I even thought of having every child with the first name "J" just like for our family. The names I would pick would be: Boys -Conrado, Felipe, Victor, Joaquin, Emmanuel; Girls - Margarita, Catalina/Katrina, Christina, Victoria (naturally, yes?), Carmela. For the girls, it's easier because one of them should be named after my wife, her mother or my mother.
4.) If you had a band, what would you name it, and why?
— The first name I thought of was "Zaxxon Magma" but that was way back in the 80's. My buddy Des thought of the name "Pots and Pans" for a vocal group some ten years ago. Now I'd pick the band name from my blog title.
5.) Is there a name that you completely hate? Why?
— None I could think of. I haven't hated somebody with that amount of passion. As for my name, some classmate called me "Baby Gopher" (derived from my name, but I forget the reason why) and another "Josephus," while still another "Peto." These are the only times I hated somebody making a play on my name. "Joey" and "Joe" are tolerable nowadays. Also, I hate anyone trying to make nice with me by using my nickname when I hardly know them.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Ill Will, 2
There are succinct reasons why I did not post for the past few days, mainly because of the distractions in Dubai, but mainly because posting from here in Dubai isn't as easy.
I've had the opportunity to think about the ill will and the inherent parochialism of many Filipinos. It wasn't really my fault that something happened to the CD.
Dagger looks were the order of the day right from the occurrence. It was just something I knew I would never live down, and by extended effect, the whole of our organization. The contender's mother was on the lookout from thereon in the program, to see if any other shenanigans would occur. But of course by that time the worst was over and it was pretty much smooth sailing. Still, the crowd would have probably killed me on the spot had the worst happened. No, they probably wouldn't have killed me, but I just narrowly missed being lynched.
(It feels sort of "cool" to be the subject of a lynching. At least somebody cares enough with a passion to want to hurt you. It's a twisted feeling, and it behooves me well not to dwell on it.)
The judges had a twist in the announcement of the winners. The contenders were grouped into clusters of three. The first three names to be announced were those who were disqualified - I had expected Camille not to make it - but I know she is still young and good things may happen to her yet. That's the beauty of this entire process - she lives to fight another day.
Then the names of the three qualifiers were called out - and when the first name called was Jasmine's, the entire house went down. Even the neutrals were won over by her sweetness and charm. It is because of this fact that I believe she just has to watch herself and train well - the Riyadh crowd will, I hope, see her as the way we see her. Then Kim's name was called, to raucous cheers. There was, however, some derision because the first name called wasn't hers, even though the judges had patently made clear that the order of the announcement of the names did not follow any specific pattern. In any case, the scores wouldn't matter come the next round in Riyadh because they start from zero.
Finally it was down to the last name - and after a few tense moments, Alma's name was called. I was already betting on Tim or one of the other contestants, Ariel G. (a great vocal talent but not really a "Pop Star"). She too had a large gallery, and the cheering nearly brought down the house too.
All in all, except for that unfortunate incident, it was a great evening.
The fathers of the two qualifiers almost came to blows following the show. I admire their devotion and all, but I believe they are sending the wrong message to their daughters. Come on, no rivalry is worth it! There is some history to this --- our group began because of the dissatisfaction of the parents over the perceived (which was eventually validated as actual) discrimination by which Kim's father and voice coach applied to his students. Under his system, only his favorites were given the opportunities to grow. So eventually the parents who came to form SPA left his group to form their own (just about the same time I arrived in KSA, which was a blessing to all concerned). The charge of favoritism was finally validated with the opening of the TFC contest. The vocal coach refused to train any of his other charges who joined the contest - and two others qualified, Jasmine being one of them. The other went home to the Philippines for vacation and pulled out of the contest.
Now, as to the politics of this situation, I pretty much have no comment since I hardly know any of the parents personally. It's just surprising (and alarming) that Kim's mother wanted to seek me out and hunt me down for my perceived wrongdoing. I have no complaints with the handling of our organization of the entire matter, but even so, the rivalry, if at all, should be downplayed. There is enough room, and enough "business" for us to do our own community work. If at all, we should be exchanging information and sharing best practices.
I do, however, have some reservations since I trust my fellows in their perception that Kim's father is into the vocal training just for the money, and not much value-added at that. I'd like to meet him and share views with him on this, but I'm afraid it would be hard to give him that chance since I'm not much of a "glad-hander" to win him over, and I'm pretty certain he wouldn't do the same for me, either.
One part of me mourns this turn of events. Why do we have to persist in this kind of parochialism? Ennui? A need to compete? Genuine antipathy? And these are not even our day jobs! That's why I feel so sad that any ill will has to exist, and that I have to be party to its kindling. I would have hoped to build more bridges rather than burning them down.
I'm sorry that such a thing had happened under my watch, and if there's anything to blame, it is that we have put too much trust in technology when all of us knew that Murphy's Law grows geometrically with the introduction of more technology.
As to any lynching campaign, all I can say is: BRING IT ON! There is some good karma to have such notoriety. The lynched are also called another word. They are called saints.
I've had the opportunity to think about the ill will and the inherent parochialism of many Filipinos. It wasn't really my fault that something happened to the CD.
Dagger looks were the order of the day right from the occurrence. It was just something I knew I would never live down, and by extended effect, the whole of our organization. The contender's mother was on the lookout from thereon in the program, to see if any other shenanigans would occur. But of course by that time the worst was over and it was pretty much smooth sailing. Still, the crowd would have probably killed me on the spot had the worst happened. No, they probably wouldn't have killed me, but I just narrowly missed being lynched.
(It feels sort of "cool" to be the subject of a lynching. At least somebody cares enough with a passion to want to hurt you. It's a twisted feeling, and it behooves me well not to dwell on it.)
The judges had a twist in the announcement of the winners. The contenders were grouped into clusters of three. The first three names to be announced were those who were disqualified - I had expected Camille not to make it - but I know she is still young and good things may happen to her yet. That's the beauty of this entire process - she lives to fight another day.
Then the names of the three qualifiers were called out - and when the first name called was Jasmine's, the entire house went down. Even the neutrals were won over by her sweetness and charm. It is because of this fact that I believe she just has to watch herself and train well - the Riyadh crowd will, I hope, see her as the way we see her. Then Kim's name was called, to raucous cheers. There was, however, some derision because the first name called wasn't hers, even though the judges had patently made clear that the order of the announcement of the names did not follow any specific pattern. In any case, the scores wouldn't matter come the next round in Riyadh because they start from zero.
Finally it was down to the last name - and after a few tense moments, Alma's name was called. I was already betting on Tim or one of the other contestants, Ariel G. (a great vocal talent but not really a "Pop Star"). She too had a large gallery, and the cheering nearly brought down the house too.
All in all, except for that unfortunate incident, it was a great evening.
The fathers of the two qualifiers almost came to blows following the show. I admire their devotion and all, but I believe they are sending the wrong message to their daughters. Come on, no rivalry is worth it! There is some history to this --- our group began because of the dissatisfaction of the parents over the perceived (which was eventually validated as actual) discrimination by which Kim's father and voice coach applied to his students. Under his system, only his favorites were given the opportunities to grow. So eventually the parents who came to form SPA left his group to form their own (just about the same time I arrived in KSA, which was a blessing to all concerned). The charge of favoritism was finally validated with the opening of the TFC contest. The vocal coach refused to train any of his other charges who joined the contest - and two others qualified, Jasmine being one of them. The other went home to the Philippines for vacation and pulled out of the contest.
Now, as to the politics of this situation, I pretty much have no comment since I hardly know any of the parents personally. It's just surprising (and alarming) that Kim's mother wanted to seek me out and hunt me down for my perceived wrongdoing. I have no complaints with the handling of our organization of the entire matter, but even so, the rivalry, if at all, should be downplayed. There is enough room, and enough "business" for us to do our own community work. If at all, we should be exchanging information and sharing best practices.
I do, however, have some reservations since I trust my fellows in their perception that Kim's father is into the vocal training just for the money, and not much value-added at that. I'd like to meet him and share views with him on this, but I'm afraid it would be hard to give him that chance since I'm not much of a "glad-hander" to win him over, and I'm pretty certain he wouldn't do the same for me, either.
One part of me mourns this turn of events. Why do we have to persist in this kind of parochialism? Ennui? A need to compete? Genuine antipathy? And these are not even our day jobs! That's why I feel so sad that any ill will has to exist, and that I have to be party to its kindling. I would have hoped to build more bridges rather than burning them down.
I'm sorry that such a thing had happened under my watch, and if there's anything to blame, it is that we have put too much trust in technology when all of us knew that Murphy's Law grows geometrically with the introduction of more technology.
As to any lynching campaign, all I can say is: BRING IT ON! There is some good karma to have such notoriety. The lynched are also called another word. They are called saints.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Ill Will
The highlights in the lives of Filipinos based in Saudi Arabia are simple: payday, pay raises, annual vacation back to the Philippines, and opportunities to watch other kabayans dance and sing. In Riyadh alone, the embassy compound is regularly booked because it is probably the only safe space to conduct musical performances in the city.
Here in the Eastern Province, the dibs and dabs are all over, a big night at a performance would normally draw a full house.
Here now comes TFC PopStar.
A clever marketing gimmick by ABS-CBN's global service, The Filipino Channel, the contest finally found its way into Saudi Arabia. Our organization earlier submitted a bid to run this contest with the franchise holders in the country, but our allied organization Saring Himig won the bid because of their closer relationship. In retrospect, it was a wise decision for us not to push for running this show - our time and energy would have been focused to run the show, at the expense of our clinics suffering. Yes, it was a wise decision.
I don't know if it was really wise, though, to bid for the sound system. One, I knew we wouldn't make as much money because the Saringhimig guys were our friends and as such, we weren't expected to charge them much. Two, there would be all sorts of questions should technical goofs arise. More on this later.
Camille, whose belting out "Bukas Na Lang Kita Mamahalin" by Lani Misalucha is featured in my photo album (I'm having problems posting so I will see what to do with this next post), was one of our bets to make it to the Riyadh finals. Her contemporary, Guen, faded in the last elimination round (much to my dismay, for I had her rated a notch higher than Camille). They weren't my students, but I did manage to direct them for their recital last year. They're good kids, with their hearts in the right places, and rooting for them would be natural as opposed to it being a matter of esprit de corps for our organization.
Nine hopefuls made it to the regional final - and only four of them teenagers, though two of them, to my mind, are rock-solid all the way to Dubai. The first, Kim M., is a vocal fireball with a "I-know-I'm-too-good-so-I-can-be-bitchy-but-I-feel-sorry-for-you-so-I-will-be-kind" attitude. God knows what will happen to her if she or her parents have to deal with failure. The second, Jasmine A., has the vocal cords but not the panache of Kim, only she is miles ahead in the looks department - her appeal can be encapsulated in the immortal lyrics of Tim Rice: "Of all the talent, a cross between a fantasy of the bedroom and a saint." And they're both only 14 years old or thereabouts.
(Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Shut your trap, I'm trying to be objective here, though saying things like that about 14 year olds gives me the heebie-jeebies.)
My other big bet was one of our friends too - Tim M., though I had serious reservations about his being a Pop Star (capitals intended), what with his being married, his being in the 30s and his dated '70s/'80s musical sensibility. He had talent to win the contest, but something was very wrong about his packaging/song choices. The others had varying degrees of chances to succeed in the competition. I knew Camille didn't have the horses to make it to Riyadh, but one never knows, that's why we have these tests of skill. The outside bet was Alma A., who had all the goods but not enough power in her vocal engine. She always had a fresh image, but a hackneyed performance for one of her songs could be fatal.
We were not really involved in the running of the show though on the side our group provided the intermission numbers (dancers) and on the side, I actually scripted the spiels for the show because the Saringhimig guys were hard-pressed to come up with a passable script. (I'd rather take no credit, just giving assistance, given what happened later in the show.)
Show day arrived and the only remaining worries were the two professional microphones we were renting and the CDs we were supposed to play for the show. I should have been antsy but I wasn't. We had our set-up the previous evening and I was expecting the material would have been there and that we would run through the program as agreed upon. As I had expected, our principals weren't ready and we wasted the evening (well, at least we didn't have to lift anything heavy on Friday morning). It was our Chairman's birthday, and as par for the course, we partied well into the wee hours of the morning. Which probably explained why I was loose.
Call time was 12pm and I arrived a few minutes ahead of schedule. Our microphones did not arrive until 1:00pm. Neither did the performers and organizers. While we waited, we did the full test to make sure we wouldn't be bedeviled by equipment failure. We only began preparations for the show in earnest at around 3 pm because that was the only time the organizers were available. We did a sound check with all 9 contestants and all the microphones were OK. There was, however, not enough time to check ALL the 20 separate CDs and two cassette tapes that would be used. The wise move would have been to play them all.
BUT....There was not enough time to play them from start to finish, which I would have done if we were the creative control behind the show. What I managed to do was transfer all of the fast songs, the TFC theme, and the dance tracks to the laptop that I brought to the show.
Showtime came and I noticed that there was a little more electricity in the air than the last time we supplied the sound system for the first evaluation round (about a month back). The audience was more pumped up and even the crew was moving with a more sprightly step. That comes with more preparation, I would surmise. However, I know it wasn't that great yet.
Preparation couldn't mask the poor choices the show director had for the opening numbers- thumbs up for choosing "Vogue" but where did "Wild Boys" come from? Not only did the song seem hackneyed, it was downright faggy, no offense to homosexuals, of course. I also was a bit put off by the clothes they gave the girls for the production number.
Camille did give it her all - but her tired vocal cords and her lack of preparation washed out whatever chances she had. Her vocal placement was all shot, though she did pretty well in all other aspects. In a thinner field, she would have done well and qualified. The whole group was just too stacked.
Jasmine showed little of the fever that was troubling her the previous evening, when she didn't practice with the rest of the hopefuls. Jitters or no, she shook off whatever tension she had. Her performance was well-received. On a technical level she still had to reach her full potential. The ceiling has not been fully laid for what this girl could do. Her qualifying was almost a given. It's a shame I wouldn't be in Riyadh to watch out for her - I'll be in Dubai (where I am now completing this post.)
The kids who now make up the SPA Dancers gave an incredibly good performance --- I did take a page from the retro theme of the production numbers and recommemended "Footloose" and "Just Got Lucky."
The performances worked out but for an unbelievable hitch --- and the performers played out to their strengths, except for one contender who was really off-key during the fast song portion.
The GREAT MACHINE that was SPA ran smoothly. All the parts ran in harmony. Starting with the transport of the sound system, and as always, the Porcioncula deserves all the credit for graciously hosting SPA headquarters. We were able to marshal all the equipment we required. And --- the SPA ladies cheered so loudly and were so ornery that pound for pound they were the loudest members of the gallery. The competence of the team was understated --- all I had to do, at best, was to point the guys to where we should go. It was an easy job.
And then it happened. Kim M. sang her version of Celine Dion's "To Love You More." The CD literally STOPPED! I felt the eyes of the crowd bore on me, and all I could do was throw up my arms --- what could I do?
One small beat, two small beats, three small beats of my heart and then the CD came back on. After a momentary loss of composure, she went and had a great comeback. It was a bravura performance. I hadn't seen its like for a long time.
Which brings up the question --- did she do better because of the glitch, or in spite of it? Who knows, really?
But then, all the fruits of the ill will between our two groups would manifest themselves.
More in my next post (you didn't think I would give the entire story in one go, didn't you?)
Here in the Eastern Province, the dibs and dabs are all over, a big night at a performance would normally draw a full house.
Here now comes TFC PopStar.
A clever marketing gimmick by ABS-CBN's global service, The Filipino Channel, the contest finally found its way into Saudi Arabia. Our organization earlier submitted a bid to run this contest with the franchise holders in the country, but our allied organization Saring Himig won the bid because of their closer relationship. In retrospect, it was a wise decision for us not to push for running this show - our time and energy would have been focused to run the show, at the expense of our clinics suffering. Yes, it was a wise decision.
I don't know if it was really wise, though, to bid for the sound system. One, I knew we wouldn't make as much money because the Saringhimig guys were our friends and as such, we weren't expected to charge them much. Two, there would be all sorts of questions should technical goofs arise. More on this later.
Camille, whose belting out "Bukas Na Lang Kita Mamahalin" by Lani Misalucha is featured in my photo album (I'm having problems posting so I will see what to do with this next post), was one of our bets to make it to the Riyadh finals. Her contemporary, Guen, faded in the last elimination round (much to my dismay, for I had her rated a notch higher than Camille). They weren't my students, but I did manage to direct them for their recital last year. They're good kids, with their hearts in the right places, and rooting for them would be natural as opposed to it being a matter of esprit de corps for our organization.
Nine hopefuls made it to the regional final - and only four of them teenagers, though two of them, to my mind, are rock-solid all the way to Dubai. The first, Kim M., is a vocal fireball with a "I-know-I'm-too-good-so-I-can-be-bitchy-but-I-feel-sorry-for-you-so-I-will-be-kind" attitude. God knows what will happen to her if she or her parents have to deal with failure. The second, Jasmine A., has the vocal cords but not the panache of Kim, only she is miles ahead in the looks department - her appeal can be encapsulated in the immortal lyrics of Tim Rice: "Of all the talent, a cross between a fantasy of the bedroom and a saint." And they're both only 14 years old or thereabouts.
(Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Shut your trap, I'm trying to be objective here, though saying things like that about 14 year olds gives me the heebie-jeebies.)
My other big bet was one of our friends too - Tim M., though I had serious reservations about his being a Pop Star (capitals intended), what with his being married, his being in the 30s and his dated '70s/'80s musical sensibility. He had talent to win the contest, but something was very wrong about his packaging/song choices. The others had varying degrees of chances to succeed in the competition. I knew Camille didn't have the horses to make it to Riyadh, but one never knows, that's why we have these tests of skill. The outside bet was Alma A., who had all the goods but not enough power in her vocal engine. She always had a fresh image, but a hackneyed performance for one of her songs could be fatal.
We were not really involved in the running of the show though on the side our group provided the intermission numbers (dancers) and on the side, I actually scripted the spiels for the show because the Saringhimig guys were hard-pressed to come up with a passable script. (I'd rather take no credit, just giving assistance, given what happened later in the show.)
Show day arrived and the only remaining worries were the two professional microphones we were renting and the CDs we were supposed to play for the show. I should have been antsy but I wasn't. We had our set-up the previous evening and I was expecting the material would have been there and that we would run through the program as agreed upon. As I had expected, our principals weren't ready and we wasted the evening (well, at least we didn't have to lift anything heavy on Friday morning). It was our Chairman's birthday, and as par for the course, we partied well into the wee hours of the morning. Which probably explained why I was loose.
Call time was 12pm and I arrived a few minutes ahead of schedule. Our microphones did not arrive until 1:00pm. Neither did the performers and organizers. While we waited, we did the full test to make sure we wouldn't be bedeviled by equipment failure. We only began preparations for the show in earnest at around 3 pm because that was the only time the organizers were available. We did a sound check with all 9 contestants and all the microphones were OK. There was, however, not enough time to check ALL the 20 separate CDs and two cassette tapes that would be used. The wise move would have been to play them all.
BUT....There was not enough time to play them from start to finish, which I would have done if we were the creative control behind the show. What I managed to do was transfer all of the fast songs, the TFC theme, and the dance tracks to the laptop that I brought to the show.
Showtime came and I noticed that there was a little more electricity in the air than the last time we supplied the sound system for the first evaluation round (about a month back). The audience was more pumped up and even the crew was moving with a more sprightly step. That comes with more preparation, I would surmise. However, I know it wasn't that great yet.
Preparation couldn't mask the poor choices the show director had for the opening numbers- thumbs up for choosing "Vogue" but where did "Wild Boys" come from? Not only did the song seem hackneyed, it was downright faggy, no offense to homosexuals, of course. I also was a bit put off by the clothes they gave the girls for the production number.
Camille did give it her all - but her tired vocal cords and her lack of preparation washed out whatever chances she had. Her vocal placement was all shot, though she did pretty well in all other aspects. In a thinner field, she would have done well and qualified. The whole group was just too stacked.
Jasmine showed little of the fever that was troubling her the previous evening, when she didn't practice with the rest of the hopefuls. Jitters or no, she shook off whatever tension she had. Her performance was well-received. On a technical level she still had to reach her full potential. The ceiling has not been fully laid for what this girl could do. Her qualifying was almost a given. It's a shame I wouldn't be in Riyadh to watch out for her - I'll be in Dubai (where I am now completing this post.)
The kids who now make up the SPA Dancers gave an incredibly good performance --- I did take a page from the retro theme of the production numbers and recommemended "Footloose" and "Just Got Lucky."
The performances worked out but for an unbelievable hitch --- and the performers played out to their strengths, except for one contender who was really off-key during the fast song portion.
The GREAT MACHINE that was SPA ran smoothly. All the parts ran in harmony. Starting with the transport of the sound system, and as always, the Porcioncula deserves all the credit for graciously hosting SPA headquarters. We were able to marshal all the equipment we required. And --- the SPA ladies cheered so loudly and were so ornery that pound for pound they were the loudest members of the gallery. The competence of the team was understated --- all I had to do, at best, was to point the guys to where we should go. It was an easy job.
And then it happened. Kim M. sang her version of Celine Dion's "To Love You More." The CD literally STOPPED! I felt the eyes of the crowd bore on me, and all I could do was throw up my arms --- what could I do?
One small beat, two small beats, three small beats of my heart and then the CD came back on. After a momentary loss of composure, she went and had a great comeback. It was a bravura performance. I hadn't seen its like for a long time.
Which brings up the question --- did she do better because of the glitch, or in spite of it? Who knows, really?
But then, all the fruits of the ill will between our two groups would manifest themselves.
More in my next post (you didn't think I would give the entire story in one go, didn't you?)
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Shared Destiny
Here they come again --- the bombings in Tel Aviv have torn open this wound that has hardly healed. This wound is a cancer that eats on the hope that there will be a just and lasting peace. My reflection on this draws a lot from the popular mass song --- "Neither Heaven is at peace / when we live not in peace."
Peace is never the end, it is the means.
My soul preached to me and showed me that I am neither more than the pygmy, nor less than the giant.
Ere my soul preached to me, I looked upon humanity as two men: one weak, whom I pitied, and the other strong, whom I followed or resisted in defiance.
But now I have learned that I was as both are and made from the same elements. My origin is their origin, my conscience is their conscience, my contention is their contention, and my pilgrimage is their pilgrimage.
If they sin, I am also a sinner. If they do well, I take pride in their well-doing. If they rise, I rise with them. If they stay inert, I share their slothfulness.
-- (Kahlil Gibran, Thoughts and Meditations)
As to the events in Manila, I can't help but admire --- in the same way I admire and dread the deadly killing abilities of a cobra --- President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. On the one hand, she goads her rabble in Congress to push for constitutional change, for she knows that the public distrusts their own representatives, and will resist such initiatives. On the other, every single bit of resistance buys her more time to rally her flagging strength. The deadlock will be all the more to her benefit.
The second loop in this program is even more insidious: should the charter change initiative pull through, she would be in the best position to dictate the terms of how she will wield the power after the change pushes through. Again, should these changes meet resistance, she secures her flanks and if necessary, she can let her allies take on her opponents, and let their squabbling keep her afloat for another day.
She may yet go down in history as one of our most astute politicians ever.
Which is why it is all the more important that our countrymen realize that we share our destiny, and should we fail to engage the problem at its source, we will fall victim to our own hubris.
Peace is never the end, it is the means.
My soul preached to me and showed me that I am neither more than the pygmy, nor less than the giant.
Ere my soul preached to me, I looked upon humanity as two men: one weak, whom I pitied, and the other strong, whom I followed or resisted in defiance.
But now I have learned that I was as both are and made from the same elements. My origin is their origin, my conscience is their conscience, my contention is their contention, and my pilgrimage is their pilgrimage.
If they sin, I am also a sinner. If they do well, I take pride in their well-doing. If they rise, I rise with them. If they stay inert, I share their slothfulness.
-- (Kahlil Gibran, Thoughts and Meditations)
As to the events in Manila, I can't help but admire --- in the same way I admire and dread the deadly killing abilities of a cobra --- President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. On the one hand, she goads her rabble in Congress to push for constitutional change, for she knows that the public distrusts their own representatives, and will resist such initiatives. On the other, every single bit of resistance buys her more time to rally her flagging strength. The deadlock will be all the more to her benefit.
The second loop in this program is even more insidious: should the charter change initiative pull through, she would be in the best position to dictate the terms of how she will wield the power after the change pushes through. Again, should these changes meet resistance, she secures her flanks and if necessary, she can let her allies take on her opponents, and let their squabbling keep her afloat for another day.
She may yet go down in history as one of our most astute politicians ever.
Which is why it is all the more important that our countrymen realize that we share our destiny, and should we fail to engage the problem at its source, we will fall victim to our own hubris.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Reboot
This is my first reboot for quite some time. I was happy with Powell Street template care of Blogger Templates but I'm looking for something new to make the blog look simpler (besides, once I saw somebody else using the design, it didn't feel right - as if this lifted reboot would be any better, hehe.)
It'll take some time to perfect this so please bear with me. I'm also having problems with the Internet connection for some reason so I can't put up the changes as quickly as I would like.
It'll take some time to perfect this so please bear with me. I'm also having problems with the Internet connection for some reason so I can't put up the changes as quickly as I would like.
Running Out Of Ideas
| You Are a Newborn Soul |
 You are tolerant, accepting, and willing to give anyone a chance. On the flip side, you're easy to read and easily influenced by others. You have a fresh perspective on life, and you can be very creative. Nonconformist and nontraditional, you've never met anyone who's like you. Inventive and artistic, you like to be a trendsetter. You have an upbeat spirit and you like almost everything. You make friends easily and often have long standing friendships. Implusive and trusting, you fall in love a little too easily. Souls you are most compatible with: Bright Star Soul and Dreaming Soul |
P.S. Yeah, and I need to reboot this blog, too.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Spirit of the Times
ESPN.com: Page 2 : The breaking point
Wala lang. I'm blown away by the quality of the writing, and I'm not even a baseball fan.
It's funny because so many things American are mirrored in the Philippines ... the emergence of the reality shows, the degeneration of primetime newscasts to tabloid TV, all the shadow games in government, and the subtle-yet-overt use of fear to control the people.
Wala lang. I'm blown away by the quality of the writing, and I'm not even a baseball fan.
It's funny because so many things American are mirrored in the Philippines ... the emergence of the reality shows, the degeneration of primetime newscasts to tabloid TV, all the shadow games in government, and the subtle-yet-overt use of fear to control the people.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Oh So True?
| You Are Internal - Realist - Powerful |
You feel your life is controlled internally. If you want something, you make it happen. You don't wait around for things to go your way. You value your independence and don't like others to have control. You are a realist when it comes to luck. You don't attribute everything to luck, but you do know some things are random. You don't beat yourself up when bad things happen to you... But you do your best to try to make your own luck. When it comes to who's in charge, it's you. Life is a kingdom, and you're the grand ruler. You don't care much about what others think. But they better care what you think! |
Easter Lesson
The passion of the poor - INQ7.net
I am a privileged person.
Throughout my entire life I have never experienced privation except by choice.
My Easter lesson is to never to take the life I have for granted. If I had used some of it in unnecessary excess, taking refuge from imagined or real pain, or failing to challenge myself to the fullest of my abilities, it is all on me.
Hardcore Poetry by Tavares
It depends on who is looking at the tenement walls
Whether he's coming home or passing through
You can walk the streets and find so much to criticize
But that would be the easy thing to do
'Coz there's beauty in the concrete
If you see it with your heart
The sidewalks only hurt you
If you hate them from the start
This is a song not necessarily sweet
I'll pass it on to folks that I never will meet
And if my words don't make history
Just call it hardcore poetry
You can blame the world if troubles come
And knock at your door
Let your weakness cut you down to size
If you find some fault with everything surrounding you
Maybe it's your narrow-minded eyes
'Coz there's music in the city
If your ear is to the ground
Only nonbelievers never hear a single sound
This is a song not necessarily sweet
I'll pass it on to folks that I never will meet
And if my words don't make history
Just call it hardcore poetry
I am a privileged person.
Throughout my entire life I have never experienced privation except by choice.
My Easter lesson is to never to take the life I have for granted. If I had used some of it in unnecessary excess, taking refuge from imagined or real pain, or failing to challenge myself to the fullest of my abilities, it is all on me.
Hardcore Poetry by Tavares
It depends on who is looking at the tenement walls
Whether he's coming home or passing through
You can walk the streets and find so much to criticize
But that would be the easy thing to do
'Coz there's beauty in the concrete
If you see it with your heart
The sidewalks only hurt you
If you hate them from the start
This is a song not necessarily sweet
I'll pass it on to folks that I never will meet
And if my words don't make history
Just call it hardcore poetry
You can blame the world if troubles come
And knock at your door
Let your weakness cut you down to size
If you find some fault with everything surrounding you
Maybe it's your narrow-minded eyes
'Coz there's music in the city
If your ear is to the ground
Only nonbelievers never hear a single sound
This is a song not necessarily sweet
I'll pass it on to folks that I never will meet
And if my words don't make history
Just call it hardcore poetry
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Overrated
Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
-- Susan Ertz
-- Susan Ertz
Monday, April 10, 2006
In the Past ___ Year
Just going down memory lane:
In the past (fill in the blank) year(s):
1 year: I was vacationing in the Philippines and elsewhere, as captured in my April posts last year. Yes, I wish I were home now. And to answer that second question in your mind, yes, I wish I were with someone special right now, too.
2 years: I was a newbie in Saudi Arabia, and just getting used to the people and the place.
5 years: I was still about to break open another career path, or in other words I was broke, jobless, and desperate to find a job. I jettisoned a career in Global Sources a few months before, went on my own way to do freelance writing but I needed more regular work. At this time my friend referred me to Integrative Learning after I had gone through a bunch of interviews, rejections, and crappy job offers. I started with IL late April/early May. There was a standing invitation to re-join RFM's Office of the Chairman, which I eventually took a few months later when I ditched IL...
7 years: I was with RFM's OCoB at the time - back for my second tour of duty. Yes, the pay sucked. The work was okay and something to live for, but everything else...hmm, I love the staff (save for a few), I love the old man (but not the way he worked and still works), and the place was a dead-end, though at the time I didn't know yet.
10 years: I had just succeeded getting myself fired from Ayala Health Care. Now how does one go about that? Simple: don't show up, don't answer phone calls, don't even bother resigning. Object lesson: I tasted the bitter fruit of what I just did to other people by having someone do it to me. In my defense, I was younger and more headstrong, and if I failed, it was just all up to me.
13 years: We were conducting the live-in retreat for Batch 12 of SHARE. This capped a really long summer when we went to Lipa to conduct training for college students ("Heal the World" by Michael Jackson was still big in the provinces), spent some time in Marinduque, and conducted this training. And oh, there was the renewal also in Lipa. We snuck in Gary V's concert care of our host and had a great, great time. One great summer, and the last significant one with C.
15 years: Nothing significant to report. Well, yeah, some drinking and some volunteering and some studying were involved at the time. But nothing significant, really. It was one lazy summer, though I do remember we re-organized SHARE at the time following the renewal in Laguna (exact date of which I cannot supply).
20 years: It was just weeks after I had graduated from grade school, and I was embarking on the great adventure of high school. I wasn't much of a memory keeper then (I started only when I got into college). Did we go to Pangasinan or Baguio as was our wont? Most likely, since this was almost a yearly thing back then. I do remember '87 I was in Cebu with my father and later I went to band camp. In '88 my brother, my first brother-in-law (I'll have another one come this June) and I were in Batangas, followed by that wonderful stretch in ChemStart at the Ateneo. In '89 we were back in Baguio again without our parents, which was the last time all of us six siblings were together for one long trip.
(Hmmm..there were those two days before New Year 2004, but we were in just a hotel so it doesn't really count). Summer '89 was Peer Counselors's Training, and it was also the beginning of my brother's ordeal that changed our family forever...
Okay, the memory banks finally worked... yes, we did go to Baguio in 1986, though not exactly this date (but in the vicinity anyway).
25 years: Tough call. I just finished third grade then, and our official summer itinerary before I got into high school was:
a) Customary visit to Pangasinan with our cousins there. The formula then was to get to the beach, eat a lot of yummy stuff (and sneak in sips of beer which my father slipped on the side away from my mother's eagle eyes), and scare each other silly with ghost stories. Good times all around.
b) Annual vacation of our domestics, which meant that we had to do the housework. In any case, the mandate we received was to clean house. My assignment was waxing and scrubbing our bedroom floors, and occasional washing of the plates after meals.
c) Receive an annual visit from any number of our cousins, mostly from our mother's side of the family. We never had much by way of male cousins our age visiting. It was mostly the girls. Up to now it's still a mystery why.
30 years: Now that's really tough to call. Sorry, it would take more than 30 minutes' rumination to cough up this memory.
In the past (fill in the blank) year(s):
1 year: I was vacationing in the Philippines and elsewhere, as captured in my April posts last year. Yes, I wish I were home now. And to answer that second question in your mind, yes, I wish I were with someone special right now, too.
2 years: I was a newbie in Saudi Arabia, and just getting used to the people and the place.
5 years: I was still about to break open another career path, or in other words I was broke, jobless, and desperate to find a job. I jettisoned a career in Global Sources a few months before, went on my own way to do freelance writing but I needed more regular work. At this time my friend referred me to Integrative Learning after I had gone through a bunch of interviews, rejections, and crappy job offers. I started with IL late April/early May. There was a standing invitation to re-join RFM's Office of the Chairman, which I eventually took a few months later when I ditched IL...
7 years: I was with RFM's OCoB at the time - back for my second tour of duty. Yes, the pay sucked. The work was okay and something to live for, but everything else...hmm, I love the staff (save for a few), I love the old man (but not the way he worked and still works), and the place was a dead-end, though at the time I didn't know yet.
10 years: I had just succeeded getting myself fired from Ayala Health Care. Now how does one go about that? Simple: don't show up, don't answer phone calls, don't even bother resigning. Object lesson: I tasted the bitter fruit of what I just did to other people by having someone do it to me. In my defense, I was younger and more headstrong, and if I failed, it was just all up to me.
13 years: We were conducting the live-in retreat for Batch 12 of SHARE. This capped a really long summer when we went to Lipa to conduct training for college students ("Heal the World" by Michael Jackson was still big in the provinces), spent some time in Marinduque, and conducted this training. And oh, there was the renewal also in Lipa. We snuck in Gary V's concert care of our host and had a great, great time. One great summer, and the last significant one with C.
15 years: Nothing significant to report. Well, yeah, some drinking and some volunteering and some studying were involved at the time. But nothing significant, really. It was one lazy summer, though I do remember we re-organized SHARE at the time following the renewal in Laguna (exact date of which I cannot supply).
20 years: It was just weeks after I had graduated from grade school, and I was embarking on the great adventure of high school. I wasn't much of a memory keeper then (I started only when I got into college). Did we go to Pangasinan or Baguio as was our wont? Most likely, since this was almost a yearly thing back then. I do remember '87 I was in Cebu with my father and later I went to band camp. In '88 my brother, my first brother-in-law (I'll have another one come this June) and I were in Batangas, followed by that wonderful stretch in ChemStart at the Ateneo. In '89 we were back in Baguio again without our parents, which was the last time all of us six siblings were together for one long trip.
(Hmmm..there were those two days before New Year 2004, but we were in just a hotel so it doesn't really count). Summer '89 was Peer Counselors's Training, and it was also the beginning of my brother's ordeal that changed our family forever...
Okay, the memory banks finally worked... yes, we did go to Baguio in 1986, though not exactly this date (but in the vicinity anyway).
25 years: Tough call. I just finished third grade then, and our official summer itinerary before I got into high school was:
a) Customary visit to Pangasinan with our cousins there. The formula then was to get to the beach, eat a lot of yummy stuff (and sneak in sips of beer which my father slipped on the side away from my mother's eagle eyes), and scare each other silly with ghost stories. Good times all around.
b) Annual vacation of our domestics, which meant that we had to do the housework. In any case, the mandate we received was to clean house. My assignment was waxing and scrubbing our bedroom floors, and occasional washing of the plates after meals.
c) Receive an annual visit from any number of our cousins, mostly from our mother's side of the family. We never had much by way of male cousins our age visiting. It was mostly the girls. Up to now it's still a mystery why.
30 years: Now that's really tough to call. Sorry, it would take more than 30 minutes' rumination to cough up this memory.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Humor Me
Advertisements contain the only truths to be relied on in a newspaper.
---Mark Twain
I hate rants. That being said, I have to mention a few things that deserve some attention. I hope the faithful (and few) readers of this blog will humor me as I vent my latest frustrations.
Please humor me that my problems are the weightiest burdens in the universe!
(Diabolical laughter in the background)
---Mark Twain
I hate rants. That being said, I have to mention a few things that deserve some attention. I hope the faithful (and few) readers of this blog will humor me as I vent my latest frustrations.
- My sister and brother both decided that they needed to upgrade their cars. So they borrowed money from me to finance their purchases. Not much, but it's still my money. The upshot of this long story is that my brother did not remit six monthly amortizations to my sister's car. Result: the car ends up being repossessed. Now, I love my sister and all, but now she asks me for some more money to buy yet another car. Mind you, it would not have been a problem lending some more money for the monthly payments. Plus, the money in itself is inconsequential. It's the trust I invested in them. That I'm terribly disappointed is saying the least.
- One of my Filipino colleagues asked me to be one of two guarantors for him to take out a company loan prior to his vacation. He gave his assurances that he will return after his vacation. Even before he had gone, I had an inkling that he would go somewhere else to seek outside employment, but I had no idea until today that it was his plan from the very beginning to ditch the company while he was vacationing. (That thought gets me in the worst possible way). Well, he didn't return AT ALL from his vacation, and despite the entreaties of another colleague/co-guarantor (who was his housemate too), he refused to send a resignation letter. Now the Company is charging his housemate and me a significant amount of money for the balance remaining on his loan. What a balls-up!
- Yeah, I'm gaining more weight. What's new?
- And oh, more of the usual back home in the Philippines.
- Still more by the way, what would you say if I sported a glowing look courtesy of possible nuclear attack on Iran?
Please humor me that my problems are the weightiest burdens in the universe!
(Diabolical laughter in the background)
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Dirge
A kabayan who worked as a machine operator died last Friday morning. He apparently had a seizure and suffered cardiac arrest. He was thirty years old. On this contract, he was saving for his wedding, as he had been recently engaged and on his first available vacation he would have gotten married.
Details are sketchy, but one source says he died en route to the hospital. He and his friends were said to be drinking, and the people who were bringing him to the emergency room were fearful of being tested positive for alcohol. Had they been taken into custody, they would have received not only administrative charges from our Company and thus lose their jobs, they would also have received criminal charges since the official government line bans alcohol.
Not to mention, they might have been charged with criminal liability for the death of their colleague.
I'm assuming this story to be untrue. But it feels true. How can a young man, in the prime of his life, in sound physical health (his medical records when he left the Philippines showed excellent fitness), die of a cardiac arrest? Another Rico Yan story of pancreatitis (patently unbelievable)?
My heart needs to be flanged - it's hard to read my emotions on this. Pity, or disgust?
Very Ape (K. Cobain)
Nirvana
I am buried up to my neck in
Contradictionary flies
I take pride as the king of illiterature
I'm very ape and very nice
If you ever need anything please don't
Hesitate to ask someone else first
I'm too busy acting like I'm not naive
I've seen it all, I was here first
Out of the ground
Into the sky
Out of the sky
Into the dirt
If you ever need anything please don't
Hesitate to ask someone else first
I'm too busy acting like I'm not naive
I've seen it all, I was here first
Out of the ground
Into the sky
Out of the sky
Into the dirt
Out of the ground
Into the sky
Out of the sky
Into the dirt
Details are sketchy, but one source says he died en route to the hospital. He and his friends were said to be drinking, and the people who were bringing him to the emergency room were fearful of being tested positive for alcohol. Had they been taken into custody, they would have received not only administrative charges from our Company and thus lose their jobs, they would also have received criminal charges since the official government line bans alcohol.
Not to mention, they might have been charged with criminal liability for the death of their colleague.
I'm assuming this story to be untrue. But it feels true. How can a young man, in the prime of his life, in sound physical health (his medical records when he left the Philippines showed excellent fitness), die of a cardiac arrest? Another Rico Yan story of pancreatitis (patently unbelievable)?
My heart needs to be flanged - it's hard to read my emotions on this. Pity, or disgust?
Very Ape (K. Cobain)
Nirvana
I am buried up to my neck in
Contradictionary flies
I take pride as the king of illiterature
I'm very ape and very nice
If you ever need anything please don't
Hesitate to ask someone else first
I'm too busy acting like I'm not naive
I've seen it all, I was here first
Out of the ground
Into the sky
Out of the sky
Into the dirt
If you ever need anything please don't
Hesitate to ask someone else first
I'm too busy acting like I'm not naive
I've seen it all, I was here first
Out of the ground
Into the sky
Out of the sky
Into the dirt
Out of the ground
Into the sky
Out of the sky
Into the dirt
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Reviewing Past Review
In Frank Herbert's "Dune" the Duke Leto Atreides recites a haunting, dirge-like poem (backed by Gurney Halleck on the baliset) which repeats the line, "Review then, troops long past review." Leto mourns that young men must die under his command, but he cannot, will not, countenance surrender, because justice on the world of Arrakis could only be earned by the strength of their arms.
It is time, then, to review troops past review --- the generation that has passed has now yielded to this generation. Where we once called the hope of the nation, we are now partly hostage to the difficulties of life that it is almost anticlimactic to cite that once-lofty billing. Plus, you could almost add that any significant Filipino politician of our age group is one of the following: a poor retread of his/her parents, hopelessly blinded by the warped ideology of the failed socialists or totally co-opted by the Macapagal-Arroyo regime.
What does await the young graduates of today?
A few months back, I was privileged to have been involved in "First Snow of November" as an actor-director, and through the script the playwright successfully poses the question - what is home to a Filipino should memory fail us? What future would we hold if we had forgotten the lessons of the past?
Why is that so many graduates are driven by the prospect of overseas employment? What lessons would I, or so many contemporaries living here in KSA, Europe, or the USA, have prepared had I known that my career path would bring me here?
Has our dream for a nascent Philippines failed?
Review, then, troops long past review. So many young men and women have fallen in the protracted wars --- one of "revolution" by the communists, one of "freedom" by the Muslim separatists. Oh, what evil was sown among us by chaining our minds to old hates! What folly have we to think we have learned enough to sow the seeds of peace?
"Selling The Drama" by Live
And to love: a god
And to fear: a flame
And to burn a crowd that has a name
And to right or wrong
And to meek or strong
It is known, just scream it from the wall
I've willed, I've walked, I've read
I've talked, I know, I know,
I've been here before
Hey, now we won't be raped
Hey, now we won't be scarred like that
It's the sun that burns
It's the wheel that turns
It's the way we sing that makes 'em dream
And to Christ: a cross
And to me: a chair
I will sit and earn the ransom from up here.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Temperance
It's past due for the end of the day and it's time for me to collect my thoughts. Should I be depressed? Not really. Things have been getting by a little evenly in the past few days after some hectic weeks.
I haven't been reading as much as I wanted. Time was when I thought of this Middle East sojourn as a creative impetus - I could take a break to think and then some. Alas, I signed up or got signed up to so many commitments I'm having difficulty balancing all of them. Was it the desire to fill the empty spaces of my life, or was it elemental rudderlessness as usual?
I'd actually pick the first - it's not that my life lacks direction, it's just that sometimes I let go of the helm once in a while or mayhap whiffle in the face of something new and unexpected. That has been my thing for four years (broken only by my committing to work here). I lost my job, I disappointed tons of friends, I threw away two opportunities (umm, make that three) for a lifetime commitment with otherwise eligible women. Along the way, of course, I had finally grasped the identity which seemed to have eluded me for years (and finally decided I was in between being a total a**hole and a total wuss).
Which brings me back again to the first question. Is there so much empty space in my life that I'm searching for things to fill them? Just recently I wrote that I didn't need a special someone to make my life relevant. Or something to that effect.
Hannah Arendt once said, "The sad truth is that most evil is done by people who never make up their minds to be good or evil." Is this what troubles me -- that I really haven't made up my mind on an objective good, or am I caught in so many shades of goodness I don't know which one to choose. Maybe the latter.
It's not as if I'm caught in a quandary all the time; I just believe that the condition I'm in is not the condition to which I am best suited. Maybe I should have been an academic, or perhaps should have blazed my way into one degree after another (after all, my brain is attuned to such pursuits). Maybe I should have been a priest, ministering to a flock of people who need me. God knows that once was an option. It still remains one.
Maybe I should have been a healer. Maybe I should have let my idealism take me to the mountains.
(Count the "maybes" and the number should be distressing. It's my favorite word today.)
Or, just as I have reached this stage of amazing possibility (more so than any other time except when I entered college), I have not yet learned the true value of temperance.
I still want everything yet refuse to yield nothing. It's not that I have so little to lose; it's just that when I have finally learned to appreciate the things that have come and gone, I must learn to make new choices. It's as if I'm caught between intimacy/isolation and generativity/self-absorption, still incomplete in either way and now vying to be the boss of me.
Temperance means learning the true art of restraint - learning when to stretch forth your hand or when to pull it back. I can only be giving if I am selfish in some things - for I cannot give what I do not have. Still, too, I must take whatever is freely given to me, but not take too much lest I exhaust the bounty given to me.
My life has been simple enough. Maybe I should simplify it further.
However, another thought that comes to me, from Hannah Arendt herself (again) is this:
The human condition is such that pain and effort are not just symptoms which can be removed without changing life itself; they are the modes in which life itself, together with the necessity to which it is bound, makes itself felt. For mortals, the ''easy life of the gods'' would be a lifeless life.
See now, this is more than reason enough to choose which battles can be best won. I can't choose them all.
I haven't been reading as much as I wanted. Time was when I thought of this Middle East sojourn as a creative impetus - I could take a break to think and then some. Alas, I signed up or got signed up to so many commitments I'm having difficulty balancing all of them. Was it the desire to fill the empty spaces of my life, or was it elemental rudderlessness as usual?
I'd actually pick the first - it's not that my life lacks direction, it's just that sometimes I let go of the helm once in a while or mayhap whiffle in the face of something new and unexpected. That has been my thing for four years (broken only by my committing to work here). I lost my job, I disappointed tons of friends, I threw away two opportunities (umm, make that three) for a lifetime commitment with otherwise eligible women. Along the way, of course, I had finally grasped the identity which seemed to have eluded me for years (and finally decided I was in between being a total a**hole and a total wuss).
Which brings me back again to the first question. Is there so much empty space in my life that I'm searching for things to fill them? Just recently I wrote that I didn't need a special someone to make my life relevant. Or something to that effect.
Hannah Arendt once said, "The sad truth is that most evil is done by people who never make up their minds to be good or evil." Is this what troubles me -- that I really haven't made up my mind on an objective good, or am I caught in so many shades of goodness I don't know which one to choose. Maybe the latter.
It's not as if I'm caught in a quandary all the time; I just believe that the condition I'm in is not the condition to which I am best suited. Maybe I should have been an academic, or perhaps should have blazed my way into one degree after another (after all, my brain is attuned to such pursuits). Maybe I should have been a priest, ministering to a flock of people who need me. God knows that once was an option. It still remains one.
Maybe I should have been a healer. Maybe I should have let my idealism take me to the mountains.
(Count the "maybes" and the number should be distressing. It's my favorite word today.)
Or, just as I have reached this stage of amazing possibility (more so than any other time except when I entered college), I have not yet learned the true value of temperance.
I still want everything yet refuse to yield nothing. It's not that I have so little to lose; it's just that when I have finally learned to appreciate the things that have come and gone, I must learn to make new choices. It's as if I'm caught between intimacy/isolation and generativity/self-absorption, still incomplete in either way and now vying to be the boss of me.
Temperance means learning the true art of restraint - learning when to stretch forth your hand or when to pull it back. I can only be giving if I am selfish in some things - for I cannot give what I do not have. Still, too, I must take whatever is freely given to me, but not take too much lest I exhaust the bounty given to me.
My life has been simple enough. Maybe I should simplify it further.
However, another thought that comes to me, from Hannah Arendt herself (again) is this:
The human condition is such that pain and effort are not just symptoms which can be removed without changing life itself; they are the modes in which life itself, together with the necessity to which it is bound, makes itself felt. For mortals, the ''easy life of the gods'' would be a lifeless life.
See now, this is more than reason enough to choose which battles can be best won. I can't choose them all.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Advert
In my last reboot of my blog (more than three weeks ago, I think) I added a link below my profile so that people would give me feedback. Obviously I have to promote it for people to put in contributions.
The 70's were the peak of self-help programs and behaviorists and the gestalters took center stage. One of the staples of this period is the selfsame Johari Window developed by Joe Luft and Harry Ingham. This model remains very useful in developing self-awareness and as a feedback mechanism.
Finally some people put it up as an online test. Of course the assessments of other people will only be valid if there is a feedback session... let's see if this thing yields some surprises...
The 70's were the peak of self-help programs and behaviorists and the gestalters took center stage. One of the staples of this period is the selfsame Johari Window developed by Joe Luft and Harry Ingham. This model remains very useful in developing self-awareness and as a feedback mechanism.
Finally some people put it up as an online test. Of course the assessments of other people will only be valid if there is a feedback session... let's see if this thing yields some surprises...
Exemplifying Ridiculousness
Fr. Bernas: From law dean to 'guru of destabilization' - INQ7.net
Notwithstanding the obvious oppositionist slant of the Inquirer, the comments of Justice Secretary Raul Gonzalez have now made it to the pantheon of the absurd.
Anyone with a boom box or a virtual pulpit can say anything, even me. Fr. Bernas, ostensibly, is proffering his opinion on his field of expertise. He is after all, one of the last remaining constitutional experts since the time of the Marcoses. How can such opinions be called "destabilizing"? Sedition, after all, is in the eye of the beholder. Good thing Fr. Bernas is, as Gonzalez rightly described, a "man of the cloth" and responded in a most compassionate (and morally upright) fashion.
I wonder if he is going to level the full brunt of his intellectual abilities and impact of his moral authority against Gonzalez, and by proxy, the Arroyo administration. David against Goliath? Maybe that would be the appropriate image. Hmmm...this has the makings of a Sonny Liston-Cassius Clay fight. Who's Clay (now Muhammad Ali), and who's Liston?
Anyhow, just a word before I exit to Secretary Gonzalez: Congratulations! You are now in line to make it to the Senate! Stranger things than this have happened, anyhow.
As for me, I'd be pleased to be called seditious by the Philippine government - at least I'm no longer small fry. HAHAHAHAHA!
Notwithstanding the obvious oppositionist slant of the Inquirer, the comments of Justice Secretary Raul Gonzalez have now made it to the pantheon of the absurd.
Anyone with a boom box or a virtual pulpit can say anything, even me. Fr. Bernas, ostensibly, is proffering his opinion on his field of expertise. He is after all, one of the last remaining constitutional experts since the time of the Marcoses. How can such opinions be called "destabilizing"? Sedition, after all, is in the eye of the beholder. Good thing Fr. Bernas is, as Gonzalez rightly described, a "man of the cloth" and responded in a most compassionate (and morally upright) fashion.
I wonder if he is going to level the full brunt of his intellectual abilities and impact of his moral authority against Gonzalez, and by proxy, the Arroyo administration. David against Goliath? Maybe that would be the appropriate image. Hmmm...this has the makings of a Sonny Liston-Cassius Clay fight. Who's Clay (now Muhammad Ali), and who's Liston?
Anyhow, just a word before I exit to Secretary Gonzalez: Congratulations! You are now in line to make it to the Senate! Stranger things than this have happened, anyhow.
As for me, I'd be pleased to be called seditious by the Philippine government - at least I'm no longer small fry. HAHAHAHAHA!
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Wondering
Poetic justice - INQ7.net
In The Fountainhead, Ayn Rand writes a scene where a reporter, Ellsworth Toohey, comes face to face with the hero (and his own self-named mortal enemy) Howard Roark. Toohey has just bashed Roark in the papers and even on radio. Since the novel was written before the advent of television, if we were to put it in perspective, Toohey would have used this platform to slam Roark and his work (for non-Ayn Rand fans, Roark is an iconoclast architect reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright). Ditto for the Internet.
Toohey speaks to Roark:
We're alone. Why don't you tell me what you think of me.
Roark deadpans: But I don't think of you.
In this piece today, I am reminded that people often listen to the people whom they feel share their views, and most audiences are already pre-disposed to agree with a speaker they like. Classic example is this: why would an ordinary person stay tuned in to a speech of a politician he doesn't support? One easy test is the degeneration of news commentary to sound bites. It's easier to get a rise out of people with these statements.
I still am a big fan of Conrad de Quiros. When I was younger and only the Manila Bulletin (still called Bulletin Today at the time) was the staple fare in our house, I lapped up the columns of Joe Guevarra (who at some point must have been the paragon of "envelopmental journalism") and Jess Bigornia (who sometimes made more sense). It made me think then, shoot, writing is easy, these hacks could pull it off and get paid handsomely for it.
With the onset of the Yellow Fever and the eventual unshackling of the press, we switched to the Philippine Daily Inquirer and the Philippine Star and at once I became a disciple of the Big Man, Louie Beltran (I wonder to this day how he, Art Borjal, and Max Soliven could co-exist. Good times all around). Then the honeymoon with Cory Aquino ended and journalists had found new homes with the growth of the free press.
Eventually it was the Daily Globe for me, and it was through this now-defunct broadsheet (it morphed to TODAY, and now the Manila Standard TODAY) that I had my first encounter with Conrad de Quiros. He wielded the pen (figuratively) like a master swordsman - a clinical slasher at times, piercing and cutting to the quick, and then a consummate artist during others, sublime and thought-provoking. Or a combination of both.
Up to this day, I rue the day I did not follow through on the journalistic career path. Well, I pretty much ruined my own life choices by my own doing back then. Even so, while I am not a journalist, I have grown up to be a writer in my own right, albeit not commercially. (By the way, it doesn't take a whole lot of imagination to write, just a whole lot of time)
Meantime, De Quiros remains one of my favorites, though at times he suffers from what I call "constipation." He does need to let go once in a while, and write pieces like this one to which I am linking. As to his take on the high comedy that is otherwise known as Philippine politics, I am with him and so many others in spirit but share little in his approach.
I believe he has actually turned off a number of his fans who have soured up on his obessesion with PGMA. True, she represents a far more insidious evil than any politician in the past twenty years (she wouldn't stand up to Marcos in a heartbeat, but at least that man had charisma and a far greater understanding of what makes Filipinos tick). But the issue has eluded resolution, and until there is some form of resolution, any more helpings of it would jam up anyone's craw. There is only so much fire and brimstone that one can digest.
Anyway, Conrad de Quiros still rocks.
For my own part, I wonder really if there is SOMEONE OUT THERE who reads these thoughts, and then remarks to himself or herself, "Hey, this dude has something good going over here." I teach some high school kids the finer points of the use of the language, and to this day I hold true to my belief that random ramblings, however deeply inspired, don't take much skill, and as such are third-rate. This maxim guides most of the writing in this blog . . . still, I am not writing this for therapy. I am writing this in the hope of reaching an audience, and I do hope in some way, somebody is touched by what I am saying. It may be tough reading, because I do write in a constipated fashion at times.
Else ...
Well I am compelled to write anyway. It's good to keep on wondering anyhow.
In The Fountainhead, Ayn Rand writes a scene where a reporter, Ellsworth Toohey, comes face to face with the hero (and his own self-named mortal enemy) Howard Roark. Toohey has just bashed Roark in the papers and even on radio. Since the novel was written before the advent of television, if we were to put it in perspective, Toohey would have used this platform to slam Roark and his work (for non-Ayn Rand fans, Roark is an iconoclast architect reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright). Ditto for the Internet.
Toohey speaks to Roark:
We're alone. Why don't you tell me what you think of me.
Roark deadpans: But I don't think of you.
In this piece today, I am reminded that people often listen to the people whom they feel share their views, and most audiences are already pre-disposed to agree with a speaker they like. Classic example is this: why would an ordinary person stay tuned in to a speech of a politician he doesn't support? One easy test is the degeneration of news commentary to sound bites. It's easier to get a rise out of people with these statements.
I still am a big fan of Conrad de Quiros. When I was younger and only the Manila Bulletin (still called Bulletin Today at the time) was the staple fare in our house, I lapped up the columns of Joe Guevarra (who at some point must have been the paragon of "envelopmental journalism") and Jess Bigornia (who sometimes made more sense). It made me think then, shoot, writing is easy, these hacks could pull it off and get paid handsomely for it.
With the onset of the Yellow Fever and the eventual unshackling of the press, we switched to the Philippine Daily Inquirer and the Philippine Star and at once I became a disciple of the Big Man, Louie Beltran (I wonder to this day how he, Art Borjal, and Max Soliven could co-exist. Good times all around). Then the honeymoon with Cory Aquino ended and journalists had found new homes with the growth of the free press.
Eventually it was the Daily Globe for me, and it was through this now-defunct broadsheet (it morphed to TODAY, and now the Manila Standard TODAY) that I had my first encounter with Conrad de Quiros. He wielded the pen (figuratively) like a master swordsman - a clinical slasher at times, piercing and cutting to the quick, and then a consummate artist during others, sublime and thought-provoking. Or a combination of both.
Up to this day, I rue the day I did not follow through on the journalistic career path. Well, I pretty much ruined my own life choices by my own doing back then. Even so, while I am not a journalist, I have grown up to be a writer in my own right, albeit not commercially. (By the way, it doesn't take a whole lot of imagination to write, just a whole lot of time)
Meantime, De Quiros remains one of my favorites, though at times he suffers from what I call "constipation." He does need to let go once in a while, and write pieces like this one to which I am linking. As to his take on the high comedy that is otherwise known as Philippine politics, I am with him and so many others in spirit but share little in his approach.
I believe he has actually turned off a number of his fans who have soured up on his obessesion with PGMA. True, she represents a far more insidious evil than any politician in the past twenty years (she wouldn't stand up to Marcos in a heartbeat, but at least that man had charisma and a far greater understanding of what makes Filipinos tick). But the issue has eluded resolution, and until there is some form of resolution, any more helpings of it would jam up anyone's craw. There is only so much fire and brimstone that one can digest.
Anyway, Conrad de Quiros still rocks.
For my own part, I wonder really if there is SOMEONE OUT THERE who reads these thoughts, and then remarks to himself or herself, "Hey, this dude has something good going over here." I teach some high school kids the finer points of the use of the language, and to this day I hold true to my belief that random ramblings, however deeply inspired, don't take much skill, and as such are third-rate. This maxim guides most of the writing in this blog . . . still, I am not writing this for therapy. I am writing this in the hope of reaching an audience, and I do hope in some way, somebody is touched by what I am saying. It may be tough reading, because I do write in a constipated fashion at times.
Else ...
Well I am compelled to write anyway. It's good to keep on wondering anyhow.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
End of the Year
Today marks the end of another contract in Saudi Arabia.
Two years. Has it been that long? (Mental image: Jeremy Piven going ballistic on John Cusack in "Grosse Pointe Blank" Yes, it's been that long, only). It seems quite longer.
Was it because I finally became more of my own person because of my stay here in Saudi Arabia? Maybe.
My personal theory is that the entire world that you could move around in --- work, friends, friends of friends (to the nth degree that you can reach) --- is a very small place. Masikip ang mundo mo, 'ika nga. And because that world is so small --- it's easy to get caught up in it, so easy for your life to flow into the cracks and seams and fill this world. Or be filled by it. Time will distend and distort, and your sense of place is slowly redefined.
Soon enough, you would think of this as your own place, and everyone else except Saudis becomes a "foreigner," even though you yourself are an expatriate. At odd moments, you would refer to your usual haunts in the Philippines as if they are just a taxi ride away. More often than not, when you talk about a place back home with a kababayan, you would say "dito" without finding it strange. The mind is a mystical thing, and its resilience is something to which I will put no limits.
Still, we are all finite creatures. Time has its own claim on us. Though the year 2005 did not have as much personal drama as 2004 did, it still had its own share of changes. Now 2006 has unfurled her cloak ... and there is one significant change that will happen in our family - one of my sisters is finally getting married.
I still don't know what to make of it. Overall I am happy that her time has finally come. A wise friend once said that marriage does not necessarily mean a better life, it just means a different set of priorities. As a single person you are free to give your heart to a cause or to your job. The job won't love you back, but you can afford to be consumed by your personal trail of success. That doesn't mean that there is less passion in your life. Passion is not controlled by an "on" or "off" switch.
Of course I have no true moral authority to talk about married life, being an unmarried person. While dreams of a true love may occupy my thoughts once in a while, I have since come to accept that marriage is more a pragmatic decision than a romantic one. It's still the same kind of decisions --- when to clean up, what to eat, how to spend free time. Only now it's multiplied by two, and then by three, and so on and so forth.
Even though I know this intellectually, it's still difficult to lap up. Not enough trust, primarily in my own self, I guess.
So now my sister is taking this step - and I do hope she will have children very very soon, as her time to have one is growing short. I wouldn't mind if she were to come home this June with a growing seed within her womb. Among my sisters, with all due respect, she was the one who was best equipped for motherhood. As to being a wife, we-ell, that's the part I don't know what to make of.
TRUST. TRUST and BELIEVE. My faith in people, ironically, has been reinforced by my stay in the Middle East rather than detracting from it. People are essentially born good. It's this world and twisted thinking that does us in. I will trust and believe that my sister and her husband-to-be will enjoy all the sweet things that life will make possible for them. Ehem, last correction. It's not I will. I do.
So what does all of this have to do with me? Nothing much, really. But I feel the additional burden of time weighing down on me. Soon I will be faced with the reality that should I wish to make the change, I will have less people of the ideal age (whom I will regularly encounter, mind you) for me to make the choice. Pressure? Inasmuch that I don't allow it to take front-and-center stage in my consciousness, undoubtedly the pressure is there.
It all comes back to this - why did I leave my home? I have found a niche here in Saudi Arabia, but this land is alien to me. Every now and then I watch the clock, and my heart still ticks on Manila time. My tongue still longs for the flavor of home-cooked meals, and my nose will always miss the aroma of the wet, damp earth of our garden. Mix and mesh all of these experiences together and it all boils down to this one question - for whom or what am I exactly doing all this?
I am confident I won't be alone come THE DAY --- I led my life, and my life has led me, all through these years, to be with young people who would someday live the life I have not lived --- and they or their children, will be with me in some way or other, wherever this road that I tread will take me.
Still, it would be nice to cross the threshold of my own door, dust my shoes on the welcome mat, and figuratively hang my hat at the end of each day in a place I call my own, and hear the patter of little feet rushing to meet me, and the din of excited voices expressing gladness that I have come home.
That will be another day, and something I wish will come very soon. Insh'allah. Insh'allah. God will reveal this to me in His own time. Let's just leave it for now that I would like to have a tiny hint, pretty please?
It is appropriate that I end this post with something from Marianne Williamson, from her book A Return to Love. This particular quote has been attributed, quite erroneously, to former South African President Nelson Mandela. Thanks to Charmaine V. for sharing this.
May these words light my path for another year here in Saudi Arabia.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?" Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we subconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Two years. Has it been that long? (Mental image: Jeremy Piven going ballistic on John Cusack in "Grosse Pointe Blank" Yes, it's been that long, only). It seems quite longer.
Was it because I finally became more of my own person because of my stay here in Saudi Arabia? Maybe.
My personal theory is that the entire world that you could move around in --- work, friends, friends of friends (to the nth degree that you can reach) --- is a very small place. Masikip ang mundo mo, 'ika nga. And because that world is so small --- it's easy to get caught up in it, so easy for your life to flow into the cracks and seams and fill this world. Or be filled by it. Time will distend and distort, and your sense of place is slowly redefined.
Soon enough, you would think of this as your own place, and everyone else except Saudis becomes a "foreigner," even though you yourself are an expatriate. At odd moments, you would refer to your usual haunts in the Philippines as if they are just a taxi ride away. More often than not, when you talk about a place back home with a kababayan, you would say "dito" without finding it strange. The mind is a mystical thing, and its resilience is something to which I will put no limits.
Still, we are all finite creatures. Time has its own claim on us. Though the year 2005 did not have as much personal drama as 2004 did, it still had its own share of changes. Now 2006 has unfurled her cloak ... and there is one significant change that will happen in our family - one of my sisters is finally getting married.
I still don't know what to make of it. Overall I am happy that her time has finally come. A wise friend once said that marriage does not necessarily mean a better life, it just means a different set of priorities. As a single person you are free to give your heart to a cause or to your job. The job won't love you back, but you can afford to be consumed by your personal trail of success. That doesn't mean that there is less passion in your life. Passion is not controlled by an "on" or "off" switch.
Of course I have no true moral authority to talk about married life, being an unmarried person. While dreams of a true love may occupy my thoughts once in a while, I have since come to accept that marriage is more a pragmatic decision than a romantic one. It's still the same kind of decisions --- when to clean up, what to eat, how to spend free time. Only now it's multiplied by two, and then by three, and so on and so forth.
Even though I know this intellectually, it's still difficult to lap up. Not enough trust, primarily in my own self, I guess.
So now my sister is taking this step - and I do hope she will have children very very soon, as her time to have one is growing short. I wouldn't mind if she were to come home this June with a growing seed within her womb. Among my sisters, with all due respect, she was the one who was best equipped for motherhood. As to being a wife, we-ell, that's the part I don't know what to make of.
TRUST. TRUST and BELIEVE. My faith in people, ironically, has been reinforced by my stay in the Middle East rather than detracting from it. People are essentially born good. It's this world and twisted thinking that does us in. I will trust and believe that my sister and her husband-to-be will enjoy all the sweet things that life will make possible for them. Ehem, last correction. It's not I will. I do.
So what does all of this have to do with me? Nothing much, really. But I feel the additional burden of time weighing down on me. Soon I will be faced with the reality that should I wish to make the change, I will have less people of the ideal age (whom I will regularly encounter, mind you) for me to make the choice. Pressure? Inasmuch that I don't allow it to take front-and-center stage in my consciousness, undoubtedly the pressure is there.
It all comes back to this - why did I leave my home? I have found a niche here in Saudi Arabia, but this land is alien to me. Every now and then I watch the clock, and my heart still ticks on Manila time. My tongue still longs for the flavor of home-cooked meals, and my nose will always miss the aroma of the wet, damp earth of our garden. Mix and mesh all of these experiences together and it all boils down to this one question - for whom or what am I exactly doing all this?
I am confident I won't be alone come THE DAY --- I led my life, and my life has led me, all through these years, to be with young people who would someday live the life I have not lived --- and they or their children, will be with me in some way or other, wherever this road that I tread will take me.
Still, it would be nice to cross the threshold of my own door, dust my shoes on the welcome mat, and figuratively hang my hat at the end of each day in a place I call my own, and hear the patter of little feet rushing to meet me, and the din of excited voices expressing gladness that I have come home.
That will be another day, and something I wish will come very soon. Insh'allah. Insh'allah. God will reveal this to me in His own time. Let's just leave it for now that I would like to have a tiny hint, pretty please?
It is appropriate that I end this post with something from Marianne Williamson, from her book A Return to Love. This particular quote has been attributed, quite erroneously, to former South African President Nelson Mandela. Thanks to Charmaine V. for sharing this.
May these words light my path for another year here in Saudi Arabia.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?" Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we subconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Meanings
| Your Birthdate: October 5 |
 You have many talents, and you are great at sharing those talents with others. Most people would be jealous of your clever intellect, but you're just too likeable to elicit jealousy. Progressive and original, you're usually thinking up cutting edge ideas. Quick witted and fast thinking, you have difficulty finding new challenges. Your strength: Your superhuman brainpower |
And another one bites the dust...
Wife, son of peasant leader in Zambales slain in ambush - INQ7.net
In the words of your typical horse race announcer, "There they go!"
The purges are beginning. No reason to fear? So you may say. So you may say.
In the words of your typical horse race announcer, "There they go!"
The purges are beginning. No reason to fear? So you may say. So you may say.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Empty Handed
Our random Tao Te Ching quote for the day:
Understand your masculine side,
Protect your female side.
Be the world's valley.
-Lao Tzu
Huh? Sorry no breakfast yet, the synapses aren't firing. Get a sugary meal! That's right! Stuff yourself horrendously and try to see if you can shed all that weight! Hahahaha!
It's been a while since I put in some spontaneous thoughts and some news on what's happening, so I'll get these things down immediately ---
Almost a month has passed since our Area contest for TMI came up and I was slated to speak for two contests - the International Speech Contest and the Evaluation Contest. We were in the middle of some heavy project (what's new) and naturally I came to the contest unprepared.
It wasn't a brilliant performance, and naturally I wasn't even cited among the six contestants. Even third-best would have been sufficient. The first impulse that I got was: you didn't prepare well, aye? thee gets what thee deserves.
Later on, in one post-mortem conversation I had with my boss (who joined the Humorous Speech contest, and he came up empty too), and he mentioned that some cultural standards came to play in the judging of the contest. Indians were the primary judges in the contest, and some of our linguistic tricks and expressions were lost on them, we Filipinos being too "Westernized" and more American than British. And so on and so forth.
I prefer the first interpretation. We simply weren't good enough that day, and the better men took home the prizes. I did, of course, kept second-guessing myself that I went overtime in one of my speeches. Hmm, perhaps.
So I came out empty-handed. No big deal. Little mice could starve on the enormity of scale of other problems compared to mine.
The stand-off in Jericho has ended. One thing I am sure of: this conflict in the Middle East won't ever end if the decision-makers keep on thinking with their penises. These guys need to take a chill pill, perhaps a dozen, on a daily basis, stop and smell the flowers once in a while, and most importantly, start thinking that across the negotiation table there is another person who has to worry about the wife and kids, who bleeds and breathes and dies just the same, and, once in a while, has to keep his crack from chewing up his underwear, thus giving him a self-inflicted wedgie.
Really, now. I have the admire the stones on these guys - at least they are willing to shed blood for the sake of their nation and their beliefs, unlike some people I know back home in the Philippines (where have all the heroes gone, one wonders). No one doubts their courage - but it's a different kind of courage to dare to think PEACE.
It takes a different kind of courage to TRUST (No, not the condom! Get your brain out of the gutter, buddy!).
It takes a different kind of courage to believe. It's so much more convenient to put your belief behind the whoop-ass power of bombs and guns.
It takes a different kind of courage to admit defeat, to come home empty-handed. That empty hand, once opened, is the hand that could shake another's to acknowledge his or her presence.
It's a hand that could help another person through difficulty, to pull another person from a ditch or to help him or her up.
Most importantly, it's a hand that conveys the most basic of emotional support - a squeeze on the shoulder, or a soothing pat on the back.
There's no courage in simply having no fear of death. There's more courage in wanting to see others live and making the decision to help them.
See? That random quote is really useful these times. If this were a speech, I'd insert that quote right here. Heck, if I gave a speech like this one, I probably would have won that darned contest!
Petty bitterness can be somewhat of a drag, isn't it?
Understand your masculine side,
Protect your female side.
Be the world's valley.
-Lao Tzu
Huh? Sorry no breakfast yet, the synapses aren't firing. Get a sugary meal! That's right! Stuff yourself horrendously and try to see if you can shed all that weight! Hahahaha!
It's been a while since I put in some spontaneous thoughts and some news on what's happening, so I'll get these things down immediately ---
Almost a month has passed since our Area contest for TMI came up and I was slated to speak for two contests - the International Speech Contest and the Evaluation Contest. We were in the middle of some heavy project (what's new) and naturally I came to the contest unprepared.
It wasn't a brilliant performance, and naturally I wasn't even cited among the six contestants. Even third-best would have been sufficient. The first impulse that I got was: you didn't prepare well, aye? thee gets what thee deserves.
Later on, in one post-mortem conversation I had with my boss (who joined the Humorous Speech contest, and he came up empty too), and he mentioned that some cultural standards came to play in the judging of the contest. Indians were the primary judges in the contest, and some of our linguistic tricks and expressions were lost on them, we Filipinos being too "Westernized" and more American than British. And so on and so forth.
I prefer the first interpretation. We simply weren't good enough that day, and the better men took home the prizes. I did, of course, kept second-guessing myself that I went overtime in one of my speeches. Hmm, perhaps.
So I came out empty-handed. No big deal. Little mice could starve on the enormity of scale of other problems compared to mine.
The stand-off in Jericho has ended. One thing I am sure of: this conflict in the Middle East won't ever end if the decision-makers keep on thinking with their penises. These guys need to take a chill pill, perhaps a dozen, on a daily basis, stop and smell the flowers once in a while, and most importantly, start thinking that across the negotiation table there is another person who has to worry about the wife and kids, who bleeds and breathes and dies just the same, and, once in a while, has to keep his crack from chewing up his underwear, thus giving him a self-inflicted wedgie.
Really, now. I have the admire the stones on these guys - at least they are willing to shed blood for the sake of their nation and their beliefs, unlike some people I know back home in the Philippines (where have all the heroes gone, one wonders). No one doubts their courage - but it's a different kind of courage to dare to think PEACE.
It takes a different kind of courage to TRUST (No, not the condom! Get your brain out of the gutter, buddy!).
It takes a different kind of courage to believe. It's so much more convenient to put your belief behind the whoop-ass power of bombs and guns.
It takes a different kind of courage to admit defeat, to come home empty-handed. That empty hand, once opened, is the hand that could shake another's to acknowledge his or her presence.
It's a hand that could help another person through difficulty, to pull another person from a ditch or to help him or her up.
Most importantly, it's a hand that conveys the most basic of emotional support - a squeeze on the shoulder, or a soothing pat on the back.
There's no courage in simply having no fear of death. There's more courage in wanting to see others live and making the decision to help them.
See? That random quote is really useful these times. If this were a speech, I'd insert that quote right here. Heck, if I gave a speech like this one, I probably would have won that darned contest!
Petty bitterness can be somewhat of a drag, isn't it?
Monday, March 13, 2006
The Leadership We Deserve
Managing expectations - INQ7.net
A simpler way of putting it, probably, would be:
Members of the middle class are not truly supportive of Mrs. Arroyo, but don't see a viable alternative among the many opponents facing her. Neither do they hate her enough. Meantime, they absolutely abhor the results and implications of extra-constitutional means to unseat her.
Manolo Q aptly points out the scathing truth about the events in the Philippines - the decisions we make simply mirror the leadership that we have. This time, the collective political quotient of our people has gone down a notch.
The signs of the times are much more palatable when the forms of legitimacy have been observed.
I am tempted to put up my hands and surrender trying to convince others that President Arroyo should step down. Some days are a lot more tempting than others.
A simpler way of putting it, probably, would be:
Members of the middle class are not truly supportive of Mrs. Arroyo, but don't see a viable alternative among the many opponents facing her. Neither do they hate her enough. Meantime, they absolutely abhor the results and implications of extra-constitutional means to unseat her.
Manolo Q aptly points out the scathing truth about the events in the Philippines - the decisions we make simply mirror the leadership that we have. This time, the collective political quotient of our people has gone down a notch.
The signs of the times are much more palatable when the forms of legitimacy have been observed.
I am tempted to put up my hands and surrender trying to convince others that President Arroyo should step down. Some days are a lot more tempting than others.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Vengeful
The news came out that the widow of Christopher Reeve, Dana Reeve, died.
A friend just told me that this is what they get because Chris dared to play Superman. So the Big Man Upstairs zapped them for taking His glory in vain.
I didn't know if he was kidding, but after a while, it dawned on me that he was being earnest about what he said
If that is true, I'd rather not be Christian. I'd rather be some godless being. John Lennon would be right that our concept of God would just be a measure of our misery.
So I believe my friend is wrong. If God is in me, and I am capable of being more than a vengeful, hurtful person, then the God I worship is the person I would like to be, someday - as loving and as giving as possible.
AMEN!
A friend just told me that this is what they get because Chris dared to play Superman. So the Big Man Upstairs zapped them for taking His glory in vain.
I didn't know if he was kidding, but after a while, it dawned on me that he was being earnest about what he said
If that is true, I'd rather not be Christian. I'd rather be some godless being. John Lennon would be right that our concept of God would just be a measure of our misery.
So I believe my friend is wrong. If God is in me, and I am capable of being more than a vengeful, hurtful person, then the God I worship is the person I would like to be, someday - as loving and as giving as possible.
AMEN!
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Caught Off-Guard
I just had to post this.
"And with that all-too-brief SONA, it became clear that GMA's agenda for the coming year is simple: divert people's attention from the real issue, and have them focus instead on charter change. And the congressmen and congresswomen lapped it up! I left the session hall feeling horrified at the immensity of the evil that we face: the evil of an administration that will bury the truth to cling to power at all cost; the evil of a political elite that will only perpetuate itself further in power; the evil of a possible class (or even civil) war between the have's and the have-nots.
So I've been generally at a loss as to what to do. We certainly have our work cut out for us. But the question is: what IS the work that needs to be done?
At this point, I would say that what we should do is re-focus the public's attention on the real issue at hand, which is GMA's accountability; not charter change, which is just a smokescreen. We should insist that any discussions on charter change should only take place after the impeachment process is finished, or after GMA is removed from office."
This quote was issued in reaction to the events unfolding from last July, when President Arroyo dodged a bullet after the legitimacy of her Presidency was (rightly) challenged. I'm not sure about the veracity of the quote, since I copied it from another blog (akosipaeng.blogspot.com), but it does bring to my mind the identity of the quotee: Atty. Tanya Lat.
Now, this is more of a name than an identity to me, since I haven't seen Tanya in about fifteen years, maybe more, and my memory of my being acquainted with her has been blurred by time and so many other newer memories.
I just remember my feeling bad for her because of this singular event during Discovery 49 (that was waaaay back in September 1989). I was placed in charge of soliciting retreat letters (palanca) from the retreatants' parents and I wasn't able to call back her folks as I had promised (they weren't there when I first called, and I got to speak to her, too). Which left me with the pressure of writing a palanca for her during the all-too important Parent Talk sequence.
Even then, some forms of incompetence can nourish thoughts of betrayal. I wonder what she felt during those times. In all likelihood, she would have forgotten by now, though I'm pretty certain I must have ruined part of the perfection that experience could have made possible for her.
Now, as to how her name came up, we are just completing our performance review and salary increase recommendations. and one of the Filipinos in one of the departments shared her surname. Remarkable, isn't it?
Tanya must be riding high by now . . . besides being counsel for the Akbayan party, apparently she lectures and writes as well. Impressive. And our only connection was that slight thread, even though we went to the same university.
Sigh... the connections we make, the lives we touch. Each moment has its own meaning, and it may catch us off-guard when our lives are literally napping. This is just a minor moment, but on the other hand, in certain cases, isn't it hurtful when something you've struggled to forget resurfaces at the most unlikely moment?
"And with that all-too-brief SONA, it became clear that GMA's agenda for the coming year is simple: divert people's attention from the real issue, and have them focus instead on charter change. And the congressmen and congresswomen lapped it up! I left the session hall feeling horrified at the immensity of the evil that we face: the evil of an administration that will bury the truth to cling to power at all cost; the evil of a political elite that will only perpetuate itself further in power; the evil of a possible class (or even civil) war between the have's and the have-nots.
So I've been generally at a loss as to what to do. We certainly have our work cut out for us. But the question is: what IS the work that needs to be done?
At this point, I would say that what we should do is re-focus the public's attention on the real issue at hand, which is GMA's accountability; not charter change, which is just a smokescreen. We should insist that any discussions on charter change should only take place after the impeachment process is finished, or after GMA is removed from office."
This quote was issued in reaction to the events unfolding from last July, when President Arroyo dodged a bullet after the legitimacy of her Presidency was (rightly) challenged. I'm not sure about the veracity of the quote, since I copied it from another blog (akosipaeng.blogspot.com), but it does bring to my mind the identity of the quotee: Atty. Tanya Lat.
Now, this is more of a name than an identity to me, since I haven't seen Tanya in about fifteen years, maybe more, and my memory of my being acquainted with her has been blurred by time and so many other newer memories.
I just remember my feeling bad for her because of this singular event during Discovery 49 (that was waaaay back in September 1989). I was placed in charge of soliciting retreat letters (palanca) from the retreatants' parents and I wasn't able to call back her folks as I had promised (they weren't there when I first called, and I got to speak to her, too). Which left me with the pressure of writing a palanca for her during the all-too important Parent Talk sequence.
Even then, some forms of incompetence can nourish thoughts of betrayal. I wonder what she felt during those times. In all likelihood, she would have forgotten by now, though I'm pretty certain I must have ruined part of the perfection that experience could have made possible for her.
Now, as to how her name came up, we are just completing our performance review and salary increase recommendations. and one of the Filipinos in one of the departments shared her surname. Remarkable, isn't it?
Tanya must be riding high by now . . . besides being counsel for the Akbayan party, apparently she lectures and writes as well. Impressive. And our only connection was that slight thread, even though we went to the same university.
Sigh... the connections we make, the lives we touch. Each moment has its own meaning, and it may catch us off-guard when our lives are literally napping. This is just a minor moment, but on the other hand, in certain cases, isn't it hurtful when something you've struggled to forget resurfaces at the most unlikely moment?
Too Close to Home
Global Nation INQ7.net
So finally the administration of GMA lifted Proclamation 1017. Whoopee for now, and of course, a big "eh, ano ngayon?" She can't get off that easily.
Last week, two OFWs based in Riyadh died following a shooting. Saudi police rained bullets into their van as the workers were making their way to their place of employment. Details are sketchy, but it is clear that the operational commander lost control of his men. Whether the shots were "covered by the fog-of-war," indiscriminate or deliberate is hard to say, and in the policemen's defense, tension was high since earlier that very morning other members of the Saudi security forces engaged suspected Al Qaeda militants. An attack at the oil installations at Abqaiq earlier that week also heightened tensions.
But tell that mistake to the grieving families. Economic considerations notwithstanding, it's never easy to lose someone that way. There will be a hole left --- a father, a husband, a son, a relative, a friend --- they will be missed.
It's just too close to home, and however I want to deny it, I fear for my family should the same happen to me. Oh, I've provided as much as I can by getting all the protection I can get, but any random bullet can considerably abbreviate my stay here. Permanently.
It's not a badge of honor (God forbid that), but the danger always exists. I pray for the best, always. Wouldn't want to collect on the bet that says otherwise.
Until then, just my own take on the answers we are looking for. The simple nub of the matter is that all the answers are out there, but so many cannot and will not refuse to grasp the ones that make the most sense, i.e. the one that leads to life. The wind blows it away, but it all comes back to you.
How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
So finally the administration of GMA lifted Proclamation 1017. Whoopee for now, and of course, a big "eh, ano ngayon?" She can't get off that easily.
Last week, two OFWs based in Riyadh died following a shooting. Saudi police rained bullets into their van as the workers were making their way to their place of employment. Details are sketchy, but it is clear that the operational commander lost control of his men. Whether the shots were "covered by the fog-of-war," indiscriminate or deliberate is hard to say, and in the policemen's defense, tension was high since earlier that very morning other members of the Saudi security forces engaged suspected Al Qaeda militants. An attack at the oil installations at Abqaiq earlier that week also heightened tensions.
But tell that mistake to the grieving families. Economic considerations notwithstanding, it's never easy to lose someone that way. There will be a hole left --- a father, a husband, a son, a relative, a friend --- they will be missed.
It's just too close to home, and however I want to deny it, I fear for my family should the same happen to me. Oh, I've provided as much as I can by getting all the protection I can get, but any random bullet can considerably abbreviate my stay here. Permanently.
It's not a badge of honor (God forbid that), but the danger always exists. I pray for the best, always. Wouldn't want to collect on the bet that says otherwise.
Until then, just my own take on the answers we are looking for. The simple nub of the matter is that all the answers are out there, but so many cannot and will not refuse to grasp the ones that make the most sense, i.e. the one that leads to life. The wind blows it away, but it all comes back to you.
How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Schmucks
The traveling circus that is World Wide Wrestling Entertainment came to Manila last February 24 and 25. My friends, the lucky schmucks whose mugs you are currently observing, managed to get tickets for the show. (I'm not certain on which date, though I'd take a bet they got seats for Friday).
Given the rants I have had the past few days about Philippine politics and society in general, it's a nice break to be talking about something else. What better topic to choose than the WWE? You've got everything you need --- bigotry, cheap thrills, gratuitous yet (mostly) non-lethal violence, hot chicks, testosterone, revenge, intriguing story lines, cool moves, and quotable taunts. A slice of life, only really, really pumped up with the least amount of intelligence and just a modicum of sense.
Yup, that guarantees the WWE would appeal to the widest demographic range possible. That includes me and my fellow schmuck friends, the lucky bastards.
It figures --- why watch the circus that others would term current Philippine events when there is a higher-quality circus in the WWE? I'd certainly take my lumps for a being an insensitive bastard (not caring enough), but at least I'd have a memorable time. After all, who would remember the last political ruckus over the visceral experience of watching overgrown boys play-acting at killing one another?
Who, indeed?
Which reminds me --- my buddy Des (who has access to watch WWE in the States all the time)said that there would be a perfect name for a Filipino wrestler in the WWE --- echoing that of Sean "X-Pac" Waltman. His name?
X-PAT! Hahahahahahaha!
P.S. The schmucks also had a chance to photograph with Aubrey Miles. AUBREY MILES! I will gladly be sodomized by a horny Saudi policeman now. (Hmm... on second thought, I'm not that despondent. Some Saudi asshole may take this seriously. I TAKE IT BACK! NOOOOO.....!!!!)
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