I disagree with Mel Brooks' Louis XIV - It's not good to be king. Nope, Simba, I won't wait to find out what it really means to be king.
Being in charge of something important that means a whole lot to many people is very, very daunting. And tiring too. We just finished a very long week putting together the salary increases for one of the sectors of the company - personally, this was work-level hell of a nature I haven't experienced in a very, very long time - though I did put together some all-nighters the last two years (mostly to make up the time that I was slacking, hehe, but still...), this was an enforced activity I never liked much, especially since clerical work is not really my thing. I did score 26th percentile on this on possible job competencies way back in high school, which says much that this line of work is something I don't like doing.
The news of the past few days just went by like blurs - I'm glad Martin Scorsese finally got his props as best director in the Oscars for "The Departed" and just as glad that the film also got tabbed as the best one this year - well, certainly it was more watchable than last year's winner, "Crash," which like its namesake, was a train wreck waiting to happen. "Crash" is a like a UN selection - least possible evil, but "The Departed" beats out a strong set of competition. My personal favorite is "Little Miss Sunshine" but that's because it was the one I saw first. So there.
And oh, I despaired when I read the news that Dwayne Wade dislocated his shoulder in a recent game. There goes the repeat - let's get on the Mavericks bandwagon, people! Well, maybe this is another year for the Pistons and vindication for Mr. Sneering Cheater, Chris Webber. I'm staying tuned.
As for back home, it's the usual bread-and-circuses fare I've come to associate Philippine politics with. There is a disturbing trend -- the line between reality-TV entertainment and real-life events is blurring. It couldn't have come at a worse time than these elections. Funny how people lap up the loss of some people's private lives --- is it that bad, really? It's ironic as well how Filipinos could not correlate how a power such as media or the State can corrupt them totally and deny them even the freedom to think. "Pinoy Big Brother" as entertainment? Shoot, I beg to disagree. Let the yokels yak up to it. Since I'm still largely in charge of my own life, I'm doing something to add spice to my life instead of watching others screw up theirs. And in public to boot.
I've scheduled, and obtained approval, for a vacation during the middle of May. My close friend who shared a foxhole with me while we served under our previous boss asked me if I would get involved in the election. I recall saying, yes, sure, but now? Hmmm.... let me sit on that decision for a few more days, perhaps a week.
I'm in a black mood today. It should clear up in a few days. I'm set myself a commitment to finally write my story idea for a play. Better yet, I should write it up for the screen. But the play first. I'll work myself up to it, and when I get the time to think when I get back home, I should line it up and finish it.
I should say that watching war movies isn't getting to help one any. I watched "Full Metal Jacket" twice in the past two days. Wrong move, but I couldn't help it. R. Lee Ermey's performance as Gunnery Sergeant Hartman was downright inspiring, at times a curious play between caricature and how power can corrupt the smallest of men. The song choices for the soundtrack were also very appropriate --- particularly the end-credits song.
Here's a toast to the Rolling Stones --- a great counterpoint to accompany any depressing mood. There's no way to go from here but up.
PAINT IT BLACK
(Mick Jagger/Keith Richards) (The Rolling Stones)
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they're all painted black
With flowers and my love, both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a newborn baby it just happens ev'ryday
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and it has been painted black
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
Hmm, hmm, hmm...
I wanna see it painted black, painted black
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun, blotted out from the sky
I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black
Yeah!
A worthy postscript, just works for me too:
"My thoughts drift back to erect nipple wet dreams about Mary Jane Rottencrotch and the Great Homecoming Fuck Fantasy. I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece. In short, I'm in a world of shit... yes. But I am alive. And I am not afraid."
--- Sergeant (formerly Private) Joker, played by Matthew Modine, "Full Metal Jacket"
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
Stealing our Youth
Inquirer Column: Randy David
Even after I have sold out and joined the Establishment, I am still all for student activism, mainly for three things:
1. It is a far healthier way to let out stress and teenage angst.
2. It keeps the youth in focus, even for a short time.
3. And if they get in trouble because of it, they can look back with fond memory.
So now they start killing kids. For what? To stop people from complaining? You could succeed in moving the moon from its path than preventing people from standing up for what they think is right.
A colleague here keeps on saying it's the same faces who complain about the government and it's the same issues all over again. True, we can do without the professional agents provocateur, but the answer is simple: Very little has changed.
I laud those who try their best to effect change wherever they may be. As it is, though, I'm tired of speaking out against the current administration. Mainly because I suspect people don't even bother to listen. But I can tell them this: no party affiliation guarantees your candidate's general program of action or even his or her political integrity. A political newcomer who is not a "trapo" also does not guarantee something better.
So for these people, it's not for me to say whom you are going to vote, or if you would vote at all. You were given intellect to reason, just use it properly. I will be the first to say this --- biases govern our thinking more powerfully than they should. The trick then, is not to view the world as how you think it should be but what it really is. Don't worry about the cause, but see the effect. Then ask questions instead of providing the "answers" you think you already know. To paraphrase H. L. Mencken, your being older does not mean you're getting any wiser.
Open up, and let go --- and be, for those instances, be like a youth raring to change the world again.
Be a youth once more, and relive that passion for change. Now, this is the very same youthful spirit our government is trying to silence. Pray it doesn't happen to you when your time to rage on comes - don't wait for a Qiu Ju moment to happen to you, when you realize that the government whom you so put your trust in has no justice in its soul. Much less expect a better system of living and governance under it.
Meanwhile, mourn the young dreams repression has killed.
* * * * *
My spirit grieves for the passing of my dear uncle, Leonardo de Guzman Sr. from complications arising from prostate cancer. I always admired the way he conducted himself. Unlike my dynamic father, my uncle was neither brash nor outwardly brilliant. However, he had a determined confidence and a surfeit of inspiring spirit, and he was a fountain of fortitude. This was all the more evident when he began his valiant fight against disease and old age.
A quote attributed to the Talmud:
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.
Throughout the tests and trials of this life, my uncle stayed true. It frustrates me that I could not even do the least I can do for him, which is to pay my respects.
There is no pain greater than the memory of good times past now that our family grieves. But this too, gives strength, and renews the spirit to its youth and strength in times of adversity.
Even after I have sold out and joined the Establishment, I am still all for student activism, mainly for three things:
1. It is a far healthier way to let out stress and teenage angst.
2. It keeps the youth in focus, even for a short time.
3. And if they get in trouble because of it, they can look back with fond memory.
So now they start killing kids. For what? To stop people from complaining? You could succeed in moving the moon from its path than preventing people from standing up for what they think is right.
A colleague here keeps on saying it's the same faces who complain about the government and it's the same issues all over again. True, we can do without the professional agents provocateur, but the answer is simple: Very little has changed.
I laud those who try their best to effect change wherever they may be. As it is, though, I'm tired of speaking out against the current administration. Mainly because I suspect people don't even bother to listen. But I can tell them this: no party affiliation guarantees your candidate's general program of action or even his or her political integrity. A political newcomer who is not a "trapo" also does not guarantee something better.
So for these people, it's not for me to say whom you are going to vote, or if you would vote at all. You were given intellect to reason, just use it properly. I will be the first to say this --- biases govern our thinking more powerfully than they should. The trick then, is not to view the world as how you think it should be but what it really is. Don't worry about the cause, but see the effect. Then ask questions instead of providing the "answers" you think you already know. To paraphrase H. L. Mencken, your being older does not mean you're getting any wiser.
Open up, and let go --- and be, for those instances, be like a youth raring to change the world again.
Be a youth once more, and relive that passion for change. Now, this is the very same youthful spirit our government is trying to silence. Pray it doesn't happen to you when your time to rage on comes - don't wait for a Qiu Ju moment to happen to you, when you realize that the government whom you so put your trust in has no justice in its soul. Much less expect a better system of living and governance under it.
Meanwhile, mourn the young dreams repression has killed.
* * * * *
My spirit grieves for the passing of my dear uncle, Leonardo de Guzman Sr. from complications arising from prostate cancer. I always admired the way he conducted himself. Unlike my dynamic father, my uncle was neither brash nor outwardly brilliant. However, he had a determined confidence and a surfeit of inspiring spirit, and he was a fountain of fortitude. This was all the more evident when he began his valiant fight against disease and old age.
A quote attributed to the Talmud:
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.
Throughout the tests and trials of this life, my uncle stayed true. It frustrates me that I could not even do the least I can do for him, which is to pay my respects.
There is no pain greater than the memory of good times past now that our family grieves. But this too, gives strength, and renews the spirit to its youth and strength in times of adversity.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Laying the Sweet Stuff Nice and Thick
I'll Be Seeing You
I'll Be Seeing You
[ Sammy Fain/Irving Kahal ][ Various Artists ]
I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces all day through
In that small cafe, the park across the way
The children's carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well
I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way
I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you
I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way
I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you
While we're on the subject, I'll post on one of my favorite sappy songs of a bygone era - "I'll Be Seeing You" though I didn't bother to look for a copy of my favorite version by Billie Holiday. Rosemary Clooney should be enough. The divine Miss Holiday is sampled in three romance flicks - A Time of Destiny (1988) with Timothy Hutton and Melissa Leo, William Hurt as the heavy; Stealing Beauty (1996) by Bernardo Bertolucci featuring Liv Tyler in her luscious glory (and oh, check the pubes of Rachel Weisz in this one, it's one of the movie's defining moments for me, hehe); and The Notebook (2006) with Rachel MacAdams and Ryan Gosling.
I also like The Chairman Frank Sinatra's version, but while Ol' Blue Eyes in his take carries a confident reassurance, Lady Day's fragile but full-bodied and sensual poignancy does the trick for me.
"A Time of Destiny" is at best in capturing the mood of late '30s - early '40s Europe. As for the rest, well, it degenerates into melodramatic goop. Still, I was into a "Romantic" phase at the time and this movie resonated with me. Timothy Hutton was still a matinee idol at the time, but looking at Melissa Leo's current publicity shots, you wouldn't have believed she was a plausible ingenue. The movie and "I'll Be Seeing You" are forever linked in my memory banks.
I watched "Stealing Beauty" only after I saw the vidcaps of Liv Tyler's exposed breast and the aforementioned Ms. Weisz (sue me, I'm shallow). The movie hardly saw distribution in the Philippines and I wouldn't have touched it were it not a Bertolucci film. Actually, the movie is WAAAY BEYOND its value vis-a-vis those vidcaps (much more nudity, hehe), though admittedly this is not one of Bertolucci's best. Still, he captures the visceral qualities of a young woman's coming-of-age.
I panned "The Notebook" the first time I saw it, which is the normal treatment chick flicks get from me, but over time it has achieved some re-watchability. Though Rachel MacAdams gets a lot of credit for this one, Ryan Gosling's understated but intense performance provides a good counterpoint (and he captures James Garner's spirit here, too). I'm not surprised he received an Academy Award nomination for his role in "Half Nelson". And of all the luck, he ends up with Ms. MacAdams in real life, too.
For all those people floating on clouds at the moment, this song is a great "goodnight and goodbye" song. An orchestral arrangement would be a great lift too, for that slow dance (preferably with soft lights, if not moonlight). And to lay it on nice and thick ---
You are standing in a garden in the early evening, the grass and the flowers are wispy with new-fallen dew, and soft lights come on just about at that, sending pocket rainbows everywhere in your line of sight. Through that mild kaleidoscopic haze, your eyes mist up a little even as a slight breeze steps in from somewhere. You don't know where it's coming from, but it enfolds you like a fleeting embrace. There is a slight shiver running down your spine as you take in the aromas of the garden, fresh and sweet and filled with secret longing for a trip down nostalgia lane.
It's a fine time to be alive.
(AND THEN) ----
(PURRRRURRRRUUUURRRUUUUUUTTTT!!!)
Your friend lets out a great big fart in the middle of that romantic scene! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Something like this really happened, though we were in a retreat instead of going at an all-nighter on chick flicks. Tagaytay, 1995. I wouldn't want to mention my friend's name (or if my friend is a he or a she). We were actually having a Closed-Eye Process (which should be rightfully called autogenics) with our mentor Br. Vic Franco. We were getting to the nice part (Br. Vic was utterly mesmerizing us) when the BIG BAD FART came on.
Our mentor did his best to patch it up with a self-amused segue and tried to get us back to point. But the mood definitely had shifted. It was all we could do from chortling, but we had it under control until somebody let out a big guffaw and then the floodgates opened --- everyone convulsed into laughter and the group threw itself into stitches. Yup, mission accomplished. The group was on the same page and we actually focused very well for the rest of the session. I don't remember the rest of that session except that we had to push our buddy Robert's car on the way back home, and of course the No-Flush incident, which I'll take up in another piece.
See, it's for moments like these that we should celebrate the role of love in our lives.
As for all of you whom I consider my friends, I'll be seeing you. Here and everywhere.
I'll Be Seeing You
[ Sammy Fain/Irving Kahal ][ Various Artists ]
I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces all day through
In that small cafe, the park across the way
The children's carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well
I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way
I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you
I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way
I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you
* * * * *
While we're on the subject, I'll post on one of my favorite sappy songs of a bygone era - "I'll Be Seeing You" though I didn't bother to look for a copy of my favorite version by Billie Holiday. Rosemary Clooney should be enough. The divine Miss Holiday is sampled in three romance flicks - A Time of Destiny (1988) with Timothy Hutton and Melissa Leo, William Hurt as the heavy; Stealing Beauty (1996) by Bernardo Bertolucci featuring Liv Tyler in her luscious glory (and oh, check the pubes of Rachel Weisz in this one, it's one of the movie's defining moments for me, hehe); and The Notebook (2006) with Rachel MacAdams and Ryan Gosling.
I also like The Chairman Frank Sinatra's version, but while Ol' Blue Eyes in his take carries a confident reassurance, Lady Day's fragile but full-bodied and sensual poignancy does the trick for me.
"A Time of Destiny" is at best in capturing the mood of late '30s - early '40s Europe. As for the rest, well, it degenerates into melodramatic goop. Still, I was into a "Romantic" phase at the time and this movie resonated with me. Timothy Hutton was still a matinee idol at the time, but looking at Melissa Leo's current publicity shots, you wouldn't have believed she was a plausible ingenue. The movie and "I'll Be Seeing You" are forever linked in my memory banks.
I watched "Stealing Beauty" only after I saw the vidcaps of Liv Tyler's exposed breast and the aforementioned Ms. Weisz (sue me, I'm shallow). The movie hardly saw distribution in the Philippines and I wouldn't have touched it were it not a Bertolucci film. Actually, the movie is WAAAY BEYOND its value vis-a-vis those vidcaps (much more nudity, hehe), though admittedly this is not one of Bertolucci's best. Still, he captures the visceral qualities of a young woman's coming-of-age.
I panned "The Notebook" the first time I saw it, which is the normal treatment chick flicks get from me, but over time it has achieved some re-watchability. Though Rachel MacAdams gets a lot of credit for this one, Ryan Gosling's understated but intense performance provides a good counterpoint (and he captures James Garner's spirit here, too). I'm not surprised he received an Academy Award nomination for his role in "Half Nelson". And of all the luck, he ends up with Ms. MacAdams in real life, too.
For all those people floating on clouds at the moment, this song is a great "goodnight and goodbye" song. An orchestral arrangement would be a great lift too, for that slow dance (preferably with soft lights, if not moonlight). And to lay it on nice and thick ---
You are standing in a garden in the early evening, the grass and the flowers are wispy with new-fallen dew, and soft lights come on just about at that, sending pocket rainbows everywhere in your line of sight. Through that mild kaleidoscopic haze, your eyes mist up a little even as a slight breeze steps in from somewhere. You don't know where it's coming from, but it enfolds you like a fleeting embrace. There is a slight shiver running down your spine as you take in the aromas of the garden, fresh and sweet and filled with secret longing for a trip down nostalgia lane.
It's a fine time to be alive.
(AND THEN) ----
(PURRRRURRRRUUUURRRUUUUUUTTTT!!!)
Your friend lets out a great big fart in the middle of that romantic scene! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Something like this really happened, though we were in a retreat instead of going at an all-nighter on chick flicks. Tagaytay, 1995. I wouldn't want to mention my friend's name (or if my friend is a he or a she). We were actually having a Closed-Eye Process (which should be rightfully called autogenics) with our mentor Br. Vic Franco. We were getting to the nice part (Br. Vic was utterly mesmerizing us) when the BIG BAD FART came on.
Our mentor did his best to patch it up with a self-amused segue and tried to get us back to point. But the mood definitely had shifted. It was all we could do from chortling, but we had it under control until somebody let out a big guffaw and then the floodgates opened --- everyone convulsed into laughter and the group threw itself into stitches. Yup, mission accomplished. The group was on the same page and we actually focused very well for the rest of the session. I don't remember the rest of that session except that we had to push our buddy Robert's car on the way back home, and of course the No-Flush incident, which I'll take up in another piece.
See, it's for moments like these that we should celebrate the role of love in our lives.
As for all of you whom I consider my friends, I'll be seeing you. Here and everywhere.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Romance Rebate
Eiffel Tower Blacks Out Momentarily
In one more week the Christian world, or at least the Westernized portion of it, will melt into puddles of goop. Yes, Valentine's is just around the corner and what do I have to say about it?
Bah, HUMBUG!
But seriously, if I had a theme song for these times, it's "Hello, Young Lovers" from "The King and I":
Intro:
When I think of Tom
I think of a night,
When the earth smelled of summer
And the sky was streaked with white,
The soft mist of England
Was sleeping on a hill.
I remember this,
And I always will...
There are new lovers now
On the same silent hill,
Looking on the same blue sea.
And I know Tom and I are a part of them all --
And they're all a part of Tom and me.
Main:
Hello young lovers, whoever you are,
I hope your troubles are few.
All my good wishes go with you tonight,
I've been in love like you.
Be brave, young lovers, and follow your star,
Be brave and faithful and true,
Cling very close to each other tonight.
I've been in love like you.
I know how it feels to have wings on your heels,
And to fly down the street in a trance.
You fly down a street on the chance that you meet,
And you meet -- not really by chance.
Don't cry young lovers, whatever you do,
Don't cry because I'm alone;
All of my memories are happy tonight,
I've had a love of my own.
I've had a love of my own, like yours-
I've had a love of my own.
Be brave, young lovers, and follow your star,
Be brave and faithful and true,
Cling very close to each other tonight.
I've been in love like you.
I know how it feels to have wings on your heels,
And to fly down the street in a trance.
You fly down a street on the chance that you meet,
And you meet -- not really by chance.
Don't cry young lovers, whatever you do,
Don't cry because I'm alone;
All of my memories are happy tonight,
I've had a love of my own.
I've had a love of my own, like yours-
I've had a love of my own.
We can hem and haw until eternity about love, but there is no need, really - if we realize the love that is already within us. While certainly the Eiffel Tower going out will dampen the mood, there is an issue bigger than the commerce of love.
My wish, and my hope, is that more and more people will look at the important things --- to take Ludwig Mies van der Rohe out of context, "God is in the details." The stark, barren landscape of our love is a prettier sight when it is raw and unadulterated.
I did have a love of my own - with C. - but one day it ended. There was no "happy ever after." Or at least, her happy ever after was with someone else. Since then it's been that hard to reach into my heart and pull out something more. I am pricked, always, by the thought of the "might-have-beens" but there are no regrets. She will have her own category in my personal pantheon, and one day I hope another will be lifted up to take the place of honor, which has been largely empty since she left, despite all the hits and misses since then.
For young lovers out there, even though the light of romance dims, I hope and pray the afterglow that shines from within you and between you will be all the more radiant than the fireworks show or the full moon at night. Follow your star, be faithful, and brave, and true.
A shout out also to my sister, who celebrated her birthday yesterday. She and her hubby may not be considered "young lovers" but their love is fresh and new --- may this love keep the vitality of its springtime and grow in strength for they face interesting times (to say the least, if I may opine) ahead.
In one more week the Christian world, or at least the Westernized portion of it, will melt into puddles of goop. Yes, Valentine's is just around the corner and what do I have to say about it?
Bah, HUMBUG!
But seriously, if I had a theme song for these times, it's "Hello, Young Lovers" from "The King and I":
Intro:
When I think of Tom
I think of a night,
When the earth smelled of summer
And the sky was streaked with white,
The soft mist of England
Was sleeping on a hill.
I remember this,
And I always will...
There are new lovers now
On the same silent hill,
Looking on the same blue sea.
And I know Tom and I are a part of them all --
And they're all a part of Tom and me.
Main:
Hello young lovers, whoever you are,
I hope your troubles are few.
All my good wishes go with you tonight,
I've been in love like you.
Be brave, young lovers, and follow your star,
Be brave and faithful and true,
Cling very close to each other tonight.
I've been in love like you.
I know how it feels to have wings on your heels,
And to fly down the street in a trance.
You fly down a street on the chance that you meet,
And you meet -- not really by chance.
Don't cry young lovers, whatever you do,
Don't cry because I'm alone;
All of my memories are happy tonight,
I've had a love of my own.
I've had a love of my own, like yours-
I've had a love of my own.
Be brave, young lovers, and follow your star,
Be brave and faithful and true,
Cling very close to each other tonight.
I've been in love like you.
I know how it feels to have wings on your heels,
And to fly down the street in a trance.
You fly down a street on the chance that you meet,
And you meet -- not really by chance.
Don't cry young lovers, whatever you do,
Don't cry because I'm alone;
All of my memories are happy tonight,
I've had a love of my own.
I've had a love of my own, like yours-
I've had a love of my own.
We can hem and haw until eternity about love, but there is no need, really - if we realize the love that is already within us. While certainly the Eiffel Tower going out will dampen the mood, there is an issue bigger than the commerce of love.
My wish, and my hope, is that more and more people will look at the important things --- to take Ludwig Mies van der Rohe out of context, "God is in the details." The stark, barren landscape of our love is a prettier sight when it is raw and unadulterated.
I did have a love of my own - with C. - but one day it ended. There was no "happy ever after." Or at least, her happy ever after was with someone else. Since then it's been that hard to reach into my heart and pull out something more. I am pricked, always, by the thought of the "might-have-beens" but there are no regrets. She will have her own category in my personal pantheon, and one day I hope another will be lifted up to take the place of honor, which has been largely empty since she left, despite all the hits and misses since then.
For young lovers out there, even though the light of romance dims, I hope and pray the afterglow that shines from within you and between you will be all the more radiant than the fireworks show or the full moon at night. Follow your star, be faithful, and brave, and true.
* * * * *
A shout out also to my sister, who celebrated her birthday yesterday. She and her hubby may not be considered "young lovers" but their love is fresh and new --- may this love keep the vitality of its springtime and grow in strength for they face interesting times (to say the least, if I may opine) ahead.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Falling Stars
When you cry
Your tears are falling stars
Make a wish
And it will be granted.
When you fall
Look high and not look down
Pick yourself up
And start where you stopped.
Your tears are falling stars
Make a wish
And it will be granted.
When you fall
Look high and not look down
Pick yourself up
And start where you stopped.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Misty-Eyed
If of all words of tongue and pen,
The saddest are, "It might have been,"
More sad are these we daily see:
"It is, but hadn't ought to be."
--- Bret Harte, American fictionist and poet (It's not the WWE wrestler, stoopid!)
For my parents, who would have celebrated their forty-ninth wedding anniversary today. I wonder how our lives would have turned out had my father lived longer.
In "Dune," the Lady Jessica Atreides speaks of the hard days as an acolyte and of her hate of the Reverend Mother Gaius Mohiam. She, however, cannot help but love her teachers, her tormentors.
For some time, I hated what my father represented and his control over our lives. Now that I am older, I am glad to have gained some perspective. But it was impossible not to have loved him. How I wish I could generate that kind of devotion that he did. If I could only do half as much, I would be a well-loved and when I pass, a deeply-mourned man.
* * * * *
This is also a misty-eyed memorial for my friend Miggy Baluyut, who passed on two years ago earlier this month. Oh, what could he have been!
The saddest are, "It might have been,"
More sad are these we daily see:
"It is, but hadn't ought to be."
--- Bret Harte, American fictionist and poet (It's not the WWE wrestler, stoopid!)
For my parents, who would have celebrated their forty-ninth wedding anniversary today. I wonder how our lives would have turned out had my father lived longer.
In "Dune," the Lady Jessica Atreides speaks of the hard days as an acolyte and of her hate of the Reverend Mother Gaius Mohiam. She, however, cannot help but love her teachers, her tormentors.
For some time, I hated what my father represented and his control over our lives. Now that I am older, I am glad to have gained some perspective. But it was impossible not to have loved him. How I wish I could generate that kind of devotion that he did. If I could only do half as much, I would be a well-loved and when I pass, a deeply-mourned man.
This is also a misty-eyed memorial for my friend Miggy Baluyut, who passed on two years ago earlier this month. Oh, what could he have been!
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Imagining Movies
Just when I thought I should be considering serious literature...
| You Should Be a Film Writer |
 You don't just create compelling stories, you see them as clearly as a movie in your mind. You have a knack for details and dialogue. You can really make a character come to life. Chances are, you enjoy creating all types of stories. The joy is in the storytelling. And nothing would please you more than millions of people seeing your story on the big screen! |
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Slash of the Pen
Time was when communicating via e-mail was virtually unknown, mobile phones were not de rigueur, getting to talk with someone was somewhat of a romantic exercise. Asking for a phone number represented the highlight of a boy-girl interaction (well, I did go to an exclusive boys' school, so that was that). It meant taking the first step in achieving the Holy Grail.
Or so it seemed at that time. After the few obligatory phone calls, if there's a hint of the girl liking you, you work on her a little, sweat out the little details, find out some juicy secret that will get you some leverage, and then...
"Gagamitin ko ang telepono!" ("I have to use the phone!") Your elder brother or sister or worse your parents have to use the phone. It's either on her end or yours... So sod off, get off the line, that marathon conversation record ground to dust, or to use a better expression, vanishing into thin air.
Since this was high school and getting permission (and the money) to go anywhere would be limited, there was one alternative - getting the girl's address and sending her a note now and then. It was my particular tactic during those years, and it almost always worked to perfection. I was a bumbler in most cases speaking face-to-face, a lot better on the telephone (I dug James Earl Jones and could pass off for someone a few years older, which was a solid hit with the ladies), but on paper, I was a swashbuckling swordsman. As the phrase went, at least.
Coupled with the help of my sisters' collection of prized stationery I could have gone anywhere. But the task, being easier than I thought, soon bored me ---which led me to conclude, just as Annie and Becky did, that verbal ability in men was overrated, but the hard part of it, was that, I realized that the same was true for women. So it could happen that one could put in three pages for a single letter and then get a short missive with no substance at all.
(Ehem, that's in the line of sour graping, Chief. Take it back! Take it back!)
Anyway, even if I did notice, I didn't mind - after all, beautiful but intellectually challenged girls can get an education. The - er, how do I put it - appearance-challenged smart ones would have a hard time making themselves over. Naturally, they were more interesting. Still, like me, they were more likely into pretty boys or, as most girls my age then desired, the ones with a cool or hip edge.
But that didn't stop me at all. I didn't read "Cyrano de Bergerac" then but I was the Cyrano to my brother's Christian for his first girlfriend. Though that relationship eventually soured for a host of reasons, I felt really good about how it came about. To his credit, my brother 'fessed up and to her credit, the girl was of a more open mind and accepted him anyway.
After high school the real world interrupted and literary legerdemain was replaced by smoke-and-mirrors, i.e. pretending to be someone else, a.k.a. lying. Or, if your stomach could stand it, huge doses of alcohol or perhaps the random recreational drug. Letters were reserved for some of my former trainees who were going on their graduation retreats - we were on the front end of the "recollection revolution" as these seminars were one of the best ways to meet members of the opposite sex, especially for the trainers.
The sword was getting some use, but would anyone use Excalibur to cut firewood or dress meat? There were of course, some heartbreaks --- as clever or as romantic I could get, I could not bear to be dishonest, and quite frankly, trying to be subtle can get you as much censure as plaudits. People misunderstand, and sometimes at the most inappropriate time.
So I put that part of me away, and spent the better part of the middle '90s writing lectures, research papers and prayer services.
The Internet boom and the sudden popularity of mIRC ushered in a whole load of opportunities, and the cloak of anonymity helped even more. Thus I became a creature of the chatrooms. But soon the novelty faded, and after two near-hits (which I'm glad I missed), I'm glad that episode is done.
(Sidebar: the pederast in me would have to admire the gumption/soullessness of those predators over the Internet. Both victims and the captured felons get their just deserts.)
And then GSM became a household name and the texting revolution was on.
Now, I was never really a fan of text, primarily because it made you stupid and a wastrel at the same time (a fact alcoholics are well-versed in), and call me old-fashioned, but it never did take. So it has been since then.
Now, I still put away my gift, a sword still put away. That didn't mean, of course, I didn't get to use axes or knives...
I still dream when I can unsheath the sword and wield it in the name of true love.
KISS LONELY GOOD-BYE (Stevie Wonder)
Give me a chance to catch my breath
'Cause I'm in a state of awe
Guess miracles do never cease
For we're back together now
Pardon me please if I pinch myself
So to know this is not a dream
As I reminisce the love we shared
And the pain there was between
Look at the clouds in the sky
They seem so happy now
Look at the sun, feel its rays
With such a smiling face
Maybe we can't but maybe we can
With the love that we're feeling inside
Share it with all the world and see each heart
Kiss lonely good-bye
If given a chance to live again
I'd change not a single thing
'Cause that little change could sadly mean
That you to me Fate wouldn't bring
Partly I cry for those lonely nights
And a heartache I thought couldn't end
Yet joyfully I cry cause I know our love
We won't let us lose again, never again
Look at the clouds in the sky
They seem so happy now
Look at the sun, feel its rays
With such a smiling face
Maybe we can't but I know we can
With the love that we're feeling inside
Share it with all the world and see each heart
Share it with all the world and see each heart
Share it with all the world and see each heart
Kiss lonely good-bye
Share it with all the world and see each heart
Kiss lonely good-bye
Or so it seemed at that time. After the few obligatory phone calls, if there's a hint of the girl liking you, you work on her a little, sweat out the little details, find out some juicy secret that will get you some leverage, and then...
"Gagamitin ko ang telepono!" ("I have to use the phone!") Your elder brother or sister or worse your parents have to use the phone. It's either on her end or yours... So sod off, get off the line, that marathon conversation record ground to dust, or to use a better expression, vanishing into thin air.
Since this was high school and getting permission (and the money) to go anywhere would be limited, there was one alternative - getting the girl's address and sending her a note now and then. It was my particular tactic during those years, and it almost always worked to perfection. I was a bumbler in most cases speaking face-to-face, a lot better on the telephone (I dug James Earl Jones and could pass off for someone a few years older, which was a solid hit with the ladies), but on paper, I was a swashbuckling swordsman. As the phrase went, at least.
Coupled with the help of my sisters' collection of prized stationery I could have gone anywhere. But the task, being easier than I thought, soon bored me ---which led me to conclude, just as Annie and Becky did, that verbal ability in men was overrated, but the hard part of it, was that, I realized that the same was true for women. So it could happen that one could put in three pages for a single letter and then get a short missive with no substance at all.
(Ehem, that's in the line of sour graping, Chief. Take it back! Take it back!)
Anyway, even if I did notice, I didn't mind - after all, beautiful but intellectually challenged girls can get an education. The - er, how do I put it - appearance-challenged smart ones would have a hard time making themselves over. Naturally, they were more interesting. Still, like me, they were more likely into pretty boys or, as most girls my age then desired, the ones with a cool or hip edge.
But that didn't stop me at all. I didn't read "Cyrano de Bergerac" then but I was the Cyrano to my brother's Christian for his first girlfriend. Though that relationship eventually soured for a host of reasons, I felt really good about how it came about. To his credit, my brother 'fessed up and to her credit, the girl was of a more open mind and accepted him anyway.
After high school the real world interrupted and literary legerdemain was replaced by smoke-and-mirrors, i.e. pretending to be someone else, a.k.a. lying. Or, if your stomach could stand it, huge doses of alcohol or perhaps the random recreational drug. Letters were reserved for some of my former trainees who were going on their graduation retreats - we were on the front end of the "recollection revolution" as these seminars were one of the best ways to meet members of the opposite sex, especially for the trainers.
The sword was getting some use, but would anyone use Excalibur to cut firewood or dress meat? There were of course, some heartbreaks --- as clever or as romantic I could get, I could not bear to be dishonest, and quite frankly, trying to be subtle can get you as much censure as plaudits. People misunderstand, and sometimes at the most inappropriate time.
So I put that part of me away, and spent the better part of the middle '90s writing lectures, research papers and prayer services.
The Internet boom and the sudden popularity of mIRC ushered in a whole load of opportunities, and the cloak of anonymity helped even more. Thus I became a creature of the chatrooms. But soon the novelty faded, and after two near-hits (which I'm glad I missed), I'm glad that episode is done.
(Sidebar: the pederast in me would have to admire the gumption/soullessness of those predators over the Internet. Both victims and the captured felons get their just deserts.)
And then GSM became a household name and the texting revolution was on.
Now, I was never really a fan of text, primarily because it made you stupid and a wastrel at the same time (a fact alcoholics are well-versed in), and call me old-fashioned, but it never did take. So it has been since then.
Now, I still put away my gift, a sword still put away. That didn't mean, of course, I didn't get to use axes or knives...
I still dream when I can unsheath the sword and wield it in the name of true love.
KISS LONELY GOOD-BYE (Stevie Wonder)
Give me a chance to catch my breath
'Cause I'm in a state of awe
Guess miracles do never cease
For we're back together now
Pardon me please if I pinch myself
So to know this is not a dream
As I reminisce the love we shared
And the pain there was between
Look at the clouds in the sky
They seem so happy now
Look at the sun, feel its rays
With such a smiling face
Maybe we can't but maybe we can
With the love that we're feeling inside
Share it with all the world and see each heart
Kiss lonely good-bye
If given a chance to live again
I'd change not a single thing
'Cause that little change could sadly mean
That you to me Fate wouldn't bring
Partly I cry for those lonely nights
And a heartache I thought couldn't end
Yet joyfully I cry cause I know our love
We won't let us lose again, never again
Look at the clouds in the sky
They seem so happy now
Look at the sun, feel its rays
With such a smiling face
Maybe we can't but I know we can
With the love that we're feeling inside
Share it with all the world and see each heart
Share it with all the world and see each heart
Share it with all the world and see each heart
Kiss lonely good-bye
Share it with all the world and see each heart
Kiss lonely good-bye
Thursday, January 11, 2007
A Death in the Family
Life goes on a different phase when you realize that you don't look around for the people before you to see who has gone, but to find out those who are still around.
I had one of these long-chats over Gmail with my buddy Des and he has remarked how the dynamics between our generation and our parents has changed. It isn't that we didn't worry about them before, but now we worry about them as if they needed someone to mind them all the time. Like children.
Still, some things of our lives I wish wouldn't ever change. Now like how Archie has never gotten out of adolescence (we-ell, he did graduate from Riverdale High and has gone to Riverdale University), or how Beetle Bailey has gone through major periods of conflict - 'Nam, Iran/Iraq, Nicaragua/Grenada, Operation Desert Storm, Somalia part 1 (will part 2 come next?), Afghanistan, Operation Desert Eagle - without so much as getting deployed and having his head shot off? I can take Garfield - he must be on his third or fourth life now, but Jon staying ageless and single? (small voice: Oh, but he can, now, Chief, just like you! LOL!)
Which is why the recent passing of creative force Iwao Takamoto just on the heels of the passing of Joe Barbera, has given me some pause.
I grew up on HB Cartoons - as a kid, I lapped them all up, including those of other animation companies, and of course, the Japanese ones. Each highlight in my childhood would be marked by a memorable cartoon or TV show. And, there at the end of each show, the names of Bill Hanna, Joe Barbera, the Spears-Ruby tandem, Iwao Takamoto were familiar, as were the other names of Friz Freleng, Chuck Jones, Mel Blanc. I even learned to listen to the voice artists and see which ones sounded the same.
They were the names from my childhood, and as they leave the face of this earth, I am reminded of how well past that time of wonder and innocence has passed, and how more urgently must I make new memories.
The mecha animes were the frontline favorites - but the dictatorship saw them as challenges, and proscribed them. I was in second grade when we passed the time away even as our parents feared that Skylab, its orbital route decaying, would crash into the Philippines (the millennials had a field day talking about the end of the world). But Saturday Fun Machine (God bless you RPN 9, you were The Undisputed Leader then) was showing from 8:00 am (following Herbert W. Armstrong's ministry) and everything in the world was well...
Breakfasts were served with the weekly "sermon" from our Mom (the house was always in bad shape for some reason, and yet it still stands today), and then when she was gone, my brother and I would shirk our chores for the most part, or else do them quickly after the shows were over. When "The Great Space Coaster" was on it was time to shovel the food down quickly or else you'll miss "The Lone Ranger."
If chores had to be done, I always begged to see "Zorro" or "Blackstar" even though they showed re-runs (mostly, they were). "Super Six" was a letdown but it had a really funny soundtrack, and then the "Superfriends" took center stage, with the new Space Ghost/Herculoids combo also grabbing some attention...
"Scooby Doo" was always a fixture because he was the most popular crossover (Scooby Doo's Laff-a-Lympics), aside from him having his own show. Scooby was on the daily late afternoon shows, he was on weekends, and at times the Machine would break out a special. I always hated Scrappy though, but Scooby was cool. He was the guy you'd love to hang around with, though he was a dog. You could pick on him and he won't mind, and in the end, he would deliver in the clutch. Scooby was part of my generation's consciousness, and the gang found its own analogs among our friends (that's why I've always hated being the nerd, because that meant being Velma, and no way would I want to be the girl! Shoot, we can have a discussion why smart women tend to get picked on, while Daphne will always grab men's attention. But I digress...)
It was bad when the Machine cut itself to two parts and just made room for noontime's "Eat Bulaga" and its early afternoon soap companion, and though the afternoon toons often sucked (the Archie adaptations lost a lot of edge, and worse, played Archie straight while Reggie was the goofball), I kept on lapping them up.
Yellow Fever came during the latter part of grade school and the guys were addicted to The Transformers, and it rankled that it had to be shown on the same time as the Tuesday night basketball game. We had a lone color TV set, and since viewing Optimus Prime in action was a must in full color, pissing off the old man, who I believe up to now was one of the most tolerant people on earth, was also, by that token, a must-do as well. There was He-Man too, but I couldn't stand it that the people showed no nipples.
High school came and though girls became a lot more interesting, I never lost my love for animated shows and children's shows.
Even as an adult, I never tire of seeing them.
And now, the soul of Scooby Doo, just as distinctive as the voice actors who portrayed him, is gone.
The winds are changing, the tides are shifting, and life is pulling away. So swim and flow with its current more attentively now, for the journey may end sooner for you, or those around you, than you think.
I had one of these long-chats over Gmail with my buddy Des and he has remarked how the dynamics between our generation and our parents has changed. It isn't that we didn't worry about them before, but now we worry about them as if they needed someone to mind them all the time. Like children.
Still, some things of our lives I wish wouldn't ever change. Now like how Archie has never gotten out of adolescence (we-ell, he did graduate from Riverdale High and has gone to Riverdale University), or how Beetle Bailey has gone through major periods of conflict - 'Nam, Iran/Iraq, Nicaragua/Grenada, Operation Desert Storm, Somalia part 1 (will part 2 come next?), Afghanistan, Operation Desert Eagle - without so much as getting deployed and having his head shot off? I can take Garfield - he must be on his third or fourth life now, but Jon staying ageless and single? (small voice: Oh, but he can, now, Chief, just like you! LOL!)
Which is why the recent passing of creative force Iwao Takamoto just on the heels of the passing of Joe Barbera, has given me some pause.
I grew up on HB Cartoons - as a kid, I lapped them all up, including those of other animation companies, and of course, the Japanese ones. Each highlight in my childhood would be marked by a memorable cartoon or TV show. And, there at the end of each show, the names of Bill Hanna, Joe Barbera, the Spears-Ruby tandem, Iwao Takamoto were familiar, as were the other names of Friz Freleng, Chuck Jones, Mel Blanc. I even learned to listen to the voice artists and see which ones sounded the same.
They were the names from my childhood, and as they leave the face of this earth, I am reminded of how well past that time of wonder and innocence has passed, and how more urgently must I make new memories.
The mecha animes were the frontline favorites - but the dictatorship saw them as challenges, and proscribed them. I was in second grade when we passed the time away even as our parents feared that Skylab, its orbital route decaying, would crash into the Philippines (the millennials had a field day talking about the end of the world). But Saturday Fun Machine (God bless you RPN 9, you were The Undisputed Leader then) was showing from 8:00 am (following Herbert W. Armstrong's ministry) and everything in the world was well...
Breakfasts were served with the weekly "sermon" from our Mom (the house was always in bad shape for some reason, and yet it still stands today), and then when she was gone, my brother and I would shirk our chores for the most part, or else do them quickly after the shows were over. When "The Great Space Coaster" was on it was time to shovel the food down quickly or else you'll miss "The Lone Ranger."
If chores had to be done, I always begged to see "Zorro" or "Blackstar" even though they showed re-runs (mostly, they were). "Super Six" was a letdown but it had a really funny soundtrack, and then the "Superfriends" took center stage, with the new Space Ghost/Herculoids combo also grabbing some attention...
"Scooby Doo" was always a fixture because he was the most popular crossover (Scooby Doo's Laff-a-Lympics), aside from him having his own show. Scooby was on the daily late afternoon shows, he was on weekends, and at times the Machine would break out a special. I always hated Scrappy though, but Scooby was cool. He was the guy you'd love to hang around with, though he was a dog. You could pick on him and he won't mind, and in the end, he would deliver in the clutch. Scooby was part of my generation's consciousness, and the gang found its own analogs among our friends (that's why I've always hated being the nerd, because that meant being Velma, and no way would I want to be the girl! Shoot, we can have a discussion why smart women tend to get picked on, while Daphne will always grab men's attention. But I digress...)
It was bad when the Machine cut itself to two parts and just made room for noontime's "Eat Bulaga" and its early afternoon soap companion, and though the afternoon toons often sucked (the Archie adaptations lost a lot of edge, and worse, played Archie straight while Reggie was the goofball), I kept on lapping them up.
Yellow Fever came during the latter part of grade school and the guys were addicted to The Transformers, and it rankled that it had to be shown on the same time as the Tuesday night basketball game. We had a lone color TV set, and since viewing Optimus Prime in action was a must in full color, pissing off the old man, who I believe up to now was one of the most tolerant people on earth, was also, by that token, a must-do as well. There was He-Man too, but I couldn't stand it that the people showed no nipples.
High school came and though girls became a lot more interesting, I never lost my love for animated shows and children's shows.
Even as an adult, I never tire of seeing them.
And now, the soul of Scooby Doo, just as distinctive as the voice actors who portrayed him, is gone.
The winds are changing, the tides are shifting, and life is pulling away. So swim and flow with its current more attentively now, for the journey may end sooner for you, or those around you, than you think.
* * * * *
This post is also dedicated to Sonny Aquino from my high school batch, who reportedly died of an aneurysm the day after New Year's. While we weren't in the same social circle, Sonny eventually became a man among men in college. It's tough to get these sobering reminders, but even so, I'm certain Sonny did more of living his fair share of life to make his 30-odd years in this life worthwhile.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Yada Yadas
And it's not even the middle of January yet...
Wouldn't it be nice that your life would be more interesting?
Wouldn't it be nice that people would fall all over the stuff that you're writing? I mean, one can write better than some other folks, but they still get more hits ...
Wouldn't it be nice that girls will fall all over you, but only the ones whom you really like?
Wouldn't it be great to be doing EXACTLY what you want, and get paid handsomely for it?
And this one, for real (as if the others weren't) wouldn't it be great to fit into your old clothes (not the ones from grade school, of course)?
If wishes were trees... well, so sayeth a wizened man, "Out of snow, you can't get cheesecake."
Huh? Sounds eeriely like, "When your shoe fits, the moon is full!"
* * * * *
FRANCES FARMER WILL GET HER REVENGE ON SEATTLE
(K. Cobain, Nirvana)
It's so relieving
To know that you're leaving as soon as you get paid
It's so relaxing
To hear that you're asking wherever you get your way
It's so soothing
To know that you'll sue me, this is starting to sound the same
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
In her false witness, we hope you're still with us,
To see if they float or drown
Our favorite patient, a display of patience,
Disease-covered Puget Sound
She'll come back as fire, to burn all the liars,
And leave a blanket of ash on the ground
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
It's so relieving
To know that you're leaving as soon as you get paid
It's so relaxing
To know that you're asking wherever you get your way
It's so soothing
To know that you'll sue me, this is starting to sound the same
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
* * * * *
My buddy Owen (name withheld upon request, hehe) posted a little something on the late Saddam Hussein. Let's go with the "yeah, yeah, yeahs" on this one... NOT! Sorry, dude, the man is gone, yes, but his death solves nothing. Best emotion for me on this one --- goodbye, cockroach!
Which reminds me of something I read long before. I loved Herman Wouk - still do - and in his foreword to "War and Remembrance" he quotes the French philosopher Julien Benda. I can't quote this word for word (and the book is back home in the Philippines), but Benda says that the end of conflict comes not from despising war but from truly loving peace. When we call forth violence to end violence, we solve little.
Benda, again, “Peace is only possible if men cease to place their happiness in the possession of things 'which cannot be shared,' and if they raise themselves to a point where they adopt an abstract principle superior to their egotisms. In other words, it can only be obtained by a betterment of human morality.”
Victor Henry, in "War and Remembrance": "Either war is finished, or we are."
* * * * *
The last thing to end this post: "Why is it that we don't always recognize the moment when love begins but we always know when it ends?" (Harris Telemacher, as played by Steve Martin, "L.A. Story")
Wouldn't it be nice that your life would be more interesting?
Wouldn't it be nice that people would fall all over the stuff that you're writing? I mean, one can write better than some other folks, but they still get more hits ...
Wouldn't it be nice that girls will fall all over you, but only the ones whom you really like?
Wouldn't it be great to be doing EXACTLY what you want, and get paid handsomely for it?
And this one, for real (as if the others weren't) wouldn't it be great to fit into your old clothes (not the ones from grade school, of course)?
If wishes were trees... well, so sayeth a wizened man, "Out of snow, you can't get cheesecake."
Huh? Sounds eeriely like, "When your shoe fits, the moon is full!"
* * * * *
FRANCES FARMER WILL GET HER REVENGE ON SEATTLE
(K. Cobain, Nirvana)
It's so relieving
To know that you're leaving as soon as you get paid
It's so relaxing
To hear that you're asking wherever you get your way
It's so soothing
To know that you'll sue me, this is starting to sound the same
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
In her false witness, we hope you're still with us,
To see if they float or drown
Our favorite patient, a display of patience,
Disease-covered Puget Sound
She'll come back as fire, to burn all the liars,
And leave a blanket of ash on the ground
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
It's so relieving
To know that you're leaving as soon as you get paid
It's so relaxing
To know that you're asking wherever you get your way
It's so soothing
To know that you'll sue me, this is starting to sound the same
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
* * * * *
My buddy Owen (name withheld upon request, hehe) posted a little something on the late Saddam Hussein. Let's go with the "yeah, yeah, yeahs" on this one... NOT! Sorry, dude, the man is gone, yes, but his death solves nothing. Best emotion for me on this one --- goodbye, cockroach!
Which reminds me of something I read long before. I loved Herman Wouk - still do - and in his foreword to "War and Remembrance" he quotes the French philosopher Julien Benda. I can't quote this word for word (and the book is back home in the Philippines), but Benda says that the end of conflict comes not from despising war but from truly loving peace. When we call forth violence to end violence, we solve little.
Benda, again, “Peace is only possible if men cease to place their happiness in the possession of things 'which cannot be shared,' and if they raise themselves to a point where they adopt an abstract principle superior to their egotisms. In other words, it can only be obtained by a betterment of human morality.”
Victor Henry, in "War and Remembrance": "Either war is finished, or we are."
* * * * *
The last thing to end this post: "Why is it that we don't always recognize the moment when love begins but we always know when it ends?" (Harris Telemacher, as played by Steve Martin, "L.A. Story")
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Saying Goodbye to 2006
It's been a long Hajj holiday and my neurons are just firing up for the coming year's onslaught.
I'd like to say goodbye to 2006 with a few questions I filched from the Dear Me blog. I didn't ask permission, so thanks for the rip-off.
What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before? :: Hmm… interesting question – I didn’t do anything “new” as to new activities. Maybe I should have gone wakeboarding or some extreme stuff. No, nothing new in terms of activities – but in terms of the degree to which I did things, I’ve gone a few notches higher this year in terms of professional achievement. Probably admit my feelings for a person in a blog post.
Did you keep your New Year's resolutions and will you make more for next year? :: I’m pretty much on the same program since the start of 2005 and I plan to stick to it. The faith life part is still difficult. I am not on a higher plane of piety, though I’d like to think I’m more spiritual. The rest? I still don’t have a steady relationship, but I’d like to think I should be a better person to love than yearning for someone to love me.
Did anyone close to you give birth? :: I wasn’t there, but a few of my friends or their wives gave birth this year.
Did anyone close to you die? :: It was a bad year for deaths, especially early in November, and served up a grim reminder that it’s time to share love when one has the time and the opportunity.
What countries did you visit? :: I specifically visited India as my first time. I also visited Dubai for two stretches – one for leisure and one for work. I also visited Bahrain. Stopovers in Sri Lanka and Hong Kong. That is about it.
What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006? :: As a whole, more equanimity and determination. Personally, a girlfriend. Materially, my own vehicle. The rest? Always nice to have gadgets, but after the first two, the rest is dross.
What date from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory and why? :: June 16 – the day my middle sister got married. A number of things make this day memorable, but mostly because she was happy and she got one of the things she had wanted for a long, long time.
What was your biggest achievement of the year? :: Personally, I’d rather not crow about achievements. It’s the year of my emotional roller-coaster ride at work. I started with negative energy, almost got myself into “let’s move on” and now am swinging toward “let’s get great things done” mode. This year was a gradual acceleration of my development as a professional – I wouldn’t say I deserve to be a manager, NOT YET, but I was a lot closer to it this year than I was in each of the last two years. On another level, there were the shows we produced in the organization, my achieving Competent Communicator with the Toastmasters, but that’s just about it.
Did you suffer illness or injury? :: As documented here.
What was the best thing you bought? :: I did not buy anything of note this year except a video camera, and it’s not the best thing to buy, though I’m happy with it.
Whose behavior merited celebration? :: Me? Nah! I’d like to say those of my students and my actors from “Apat na Sulok ng Pag-Ibig.”
Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? :: I’ve tried my utmost best not to be cynical. I earned this tag fifteen years ago from Monic N. and never got to shake it off. But back to the question --- politicians from the world over, specifically from the United States and the Philippines, have appalled me even further. What saddens me is that so many of our countrymen fail to put the political situation in perspective. Nope, I haven’t gotten depressed over someone else’s behavior.
Where did most of your money go? :: To the tune of Destiny’s Child – “Bills!” I’m still on track on my savings program but I haven’t been able to make it progress the way I wished.
What made you really really really excited? :: Nothing really. Except the prospect of going home.
What song will forever remind you of 2006? :: I haven’t really thought about it. Most of the stuff I liked this year were released in 2005 or earlier. And, since I’m an oldies fan, nothing piqued my interest this year.
Compared to this time last year, are you:
- happier or sadder? :: Net overall, happier. There are peaks and valleys of course, but overall, it has been a better year. Nothing to top 2004, not yet, but one always hopes the coming year would be just as great as that year.
- thinner or fatter? :: (Um, cough! Cough!) Fatter.
- richer or poorer? :: Since I’m less in debt, richer. But since there are higher expectations, slightly poorer.
What do you wish you'd done more of? :: Concentrate on work, say nice things to my mother, be more thoughtful and considerate of others. Exercise!
What do you wish you'd done less of? :: Eating, lazing in front of my desk for stretches where I could have been more productive.
How did you spend Christmas? :: Christmas Eve I was with my colleagues at my boss’ home (while the boss was away) and the next day I was at work because we had no break. I spent Christmas evening at home.
How did you spend New Year's? :: The fellas wanted another edition of Christmas Eve and we did the same. Aside from eating, we whiled away most of New Year’s Day watching videos.
Did you fall in love in 2006? :: I wish I did, but it was just an infatuation. I had several, but documented only two I can think of. It was “just my imagination, running away with me…”
How many one-night stands? :: The Lord’s honest truth? Just one.
What were your favorite TV programs? :: I got glued so much to “24” that I stopped watching it on TV and got myself the DVDs.
Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? :: I hope I have enough love in me for me to hate someone. But there’s no one out there enough for me to hate. I’d rather have no feeling for them at all.
What was the best book you read? :: Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts. As a series, A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin is tops.
What was your greatest musical discovery? :: No one really, but I did like the work of Sitti Navarro since most of us in the family really dig Bossa Nova.
What did you want and get? :: I got the vacation I needed, and that was about it.
What did you want and not get? :: Same thing as always each year since year-end 2002 – a girlfriend. The rest? I wanted a bigger raise, naturally, but my performance did not merit it.
What was your favorite film of this year? :: I only watched a few new movies this year because Saudi Arabia is not exactly a movie-lover’s haven. Of the ones I saw on the big screen, the best one I watched was “V for Vendetta” but my personal enjoyable cinema experience was “Mission Impossible III.” My personal DVD favorite was “The Motorcycle Diaries” and that catchy tune “Chipi Chipi” (which hasn’t left my brain since I first heard it).
What did you do on your birthday and how old were you? :: It was the opening day of our production of “Apat na Sulok ng Pag-Ibig.” I was struck to find almost nobody within my circle in Saudi Arabia remembered my birthday because of so many work and community commitments. That hurt me big-time, but they did have a great comeback anyway. I turned 34 (the numbers get a bit uglier and uglier each year).
What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? :: See question on getting what I wanted.
How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006? :: Fat Boys ‘R’ Us.
What kept you sane? :: Am I?
Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? :: Keeley Hazell! But that’s just my hormones talking. No one in particular.
What political issue stirred you the most? :: It’s enough to get stirred up on politics, at least in the case of the Philippines. The country is a mess. People say that all countries are f*cked up to some degree, but it’s the Philippines to whom I belong, so I'd get stirred up as much as I want.
Whom did you miss? :: Mostly, everything about home.
Who was the best new person(s) you met? :: No one new this year, at least in the category that could answer this question.
Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006. :: Among all my posts, this oneback in February was the best lesson I learned for 2006. It actually made my whole year.
Favorite memory of 2006? :: There are several, but the best would be the family’s road trips, first to Tagaytay, and then through Central and Northern Luzon, in June, to give my newlywed sister and her husband the semblance of a honeymoon. That, and being slightly heartbroken would be the most indelible memories. I’ll probably forget her face and almost everything she said, but I’m glad I felt what I felt just the same, even if the entire episode didn’t turn out exactly as I had hoped.
Happiness and Creation
This New Year, I'd like to believe that I have been a more positive person than usual and that whatever challenges I faced this year, I worked harder on being part of the solution.
I had a bad start to 2006, starting first with the not-so-great year I had in 2005, though by the middle of the year I had recovered my stride and started to work with more energy. However, I find that I'm the thrall of these "energy pockets." I really need to be more consistent in the way I use my energy. Or, if I'm going to slump, it will be from "top-notch" to "good" instead of "good enough" to "really bad."
That is the probably the only resolution worth keeping, though working at a specific health goal would be good. I'd spare myself the hypocrisy of setting a non-existent target, but when I do find a good one, I'll stick to achieving it for the rest of the year.
Also, in keeping with the principle of "like attracting like" I will turn my thoughts to things that make me happy. The purpose of creation is to expand and evolve the universe to a higher state --- and our joy and happiness is critical to that expansion and evolution, even as our suffering and pain refines and shapes us to fully appreciate the wonder of our lives.
I'd like to hark back to the most recent happiness list I wrote in January last year.
And on to the new list - Happiness is:
I had a bad start to 2006, starting first with the not-so-great year I had in 2005, though by the middle of the year I had recovered my stride and started to work with more energy. However, I find that I'm the thrall of these "energy pockets." I really need to be more consistent in the way I use my energy. Or, if I'm going to slump, it will be from "top-notch" to "good" instead of "good enough" to "really bad."
That is the probably the only resolution worth keeping, though working at a specific health goal would be good. I'd spare myself the hypocrisy of setting a non-existent target, but when I do find a good one, I'll stick to achieving it for the rest of the year.
Also, in keeping with the principle of "like attracting like" I will turn my thoughts to things that make me happy. The purpose of creation is to expand and evolve the universe to a higher state --- and our joy and happiness is critical to that expansion and evolution, even as our suffering and pain refines and shapes us to fully appreciate the wonder of our lives.
I'd like to hark back to the most recent happiness list I wrote in January last year.
And on to the new list - Happiness is:
- Learning something new that kids/teenagers only do (being hip with the kids is still cool)
- Eating something which has been lovingly prepared for you (no matter how horrible it tastes)
- Freeing your underwear from the stickiness of your crack
- Getting up in the morning without a headache or creakiness in the joints
- Hearing that once-favorite song you had with your ex and finding yourself laughing over it
- FINALLY receiving that long-awaited promotion
- Treading the tightrope in a real difficult negotiation and getting through it
- Being complimented on how you look better now that you've gotten old (er, mature)
- De-clawing yourself and seeing all those shavings go down the trash can
- The sights and smells of your favorite restaurant
- Making a stupid gamble and then seeing it pay off
- Burying a long jumper from half-court
- The tight embrace of someone you love to keep you warm through the night.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Torn
Saddam Hussein executed
An ambitious "firebrand" preaches a new way of thinking. He gathers forces about him, becoming an eminent figure even among the scholars, finding allies from every turn who are willing to support him. Then his campaign takes a potentially violent turn, and the Powers-That-Be had to take him down.
In taking him down, instead of stopping his followers in their tracks, support for his way of thinking even grew more dramatically. In the end, the Powers-That-Be launched a bloodbath even worse than they had initially feared.
I am not talking about Saddam Hussein. I am talking about Jose Rizal, dead today 110 years past.
In some way, I am also talking about the Christ, whose supreme sacrifice we continue to remember, but ironically we remain more fixated with the season of his birth than the manner of his death, which should inspire us more to take heed of the ideals of his ministry.
Regardless (before I launch a diatribe against the commercialization of Christmas and the all-too palpable "deification" of Jose Rizal), the death of Saddam Hussein leaves me torn.
Saddam was never a hero. He was the supreme opportunist, parlaying his organizational genius to break into the halls of power, peddling both Arabic nationalist slogans and a vision of a strong Middle Eastern state (in Iraq) as he rode the waves of turmoil to grab the Presidency of Iraq.
He kept the various factions and tribes together, dealing with the most intractable with an iron fist. He elevated Iraq from obscurity to front-page headlines by invading Iran as the US's proxy against the Glorious Islamic Revolution of Ayatollah Khomeini. He succeeded in fostering a fervent Iraqi nationalism, spearheading the outflow of prodigious Iraqi scholars and businessmen, and came close to making his Iraq a secular, albeit disciplined and moral state.
That he was devious, underhanded, and perhaps a misanthrope to boot is beside the point. One can point out to several historical antecedents and to current examples among today's world leaders. Saddam was never unique, and he never claimed to be.
Was it hubris that caused his downfall? Perhaps. The invasion of Kuwait was definitely a no-no, and his subsequent conduct of his occupation and the resultant counter-invasion by the Grand Coalition exposed him for the craven manipulator that he was. The US leadership at the time, for all its brilliance in ousting Saddam from Kuwait, could have and should have finished the job of ridding Iraq of Saddam then. There would have been no question of intervention, and countless lives would have been saved as the Kurds who rose in rebellion (abetted surely by the US) would not have been on the business end of Saddam's revenge.
As it was, the elder Bush administration pulled its punches, and was subsequently upended by the Democratic challenger, Bill Clinton.
Fast-forward to events of recent vintage. The younger Bush, a slicker communicator but perhaps half (or even less) the statesman his father was, invaded Iraq (despite prevaling international sentiment against the same) on the pretext that Saddam had a cache of chemical weapons and weapons of mass destruction. The war is now entering its fifth year, and no sign of these weapons has been established. Iraq, too, has bogged down into a morass of sectarian and ethnic strife.
I am torn not because I have any remorse over the death of Saddam. He got his just deserts, despite the kangaroo court the Iraqi government set up to try him of war crimes. The charges were ridiculous, rather off-tangent. Few people would agree to the manner in which the former dictator was tried, though most would readily agree that the heavy hand of American interventionism was fully involved.
I am torn because the swirl and shift of events in this part of the world, which I consider another haven, have become even murkier, darker, and filled with the quiet promise of more violence.
Perhaps the American leadership and those who supported the war would say this hanging has the stamp of "mission accomplished," and go on with the business of securing the Iraqi "democracy." Oh sure, I'm ecstatic with delight. The US presence has neither stopped the violence at the grassroots level and nor have they won over the locals or the international community for this hateful war.
This hanging, however, is just the beginning of another stage in the war, and so far, what I get is that Saddam was not executed, he was martyred. The thought of placing him in the same company as Jesus and Jose Rizal makes me cringe. No, check that, it makes me sick to my soul.
Back home, the heavy hand of the Americans again makes itself felt when the Arroyo administration finally caves in to pressure and sends convicted rapist Daniel Smith back to the custody of the US Embassy.
Rizal duly foretold the annexation of the Philippines by the United States nine years before the event. I wonder what will Rizal make of how weak-kneed and shortsighted the mass of Filipinos have become, while their leaders, instead of taking them forward, have become their most ardent oppressors, all in their name.
An ambitious "firebrand" preaches a new way of thinking. He gathers forces about him, becoming an eminent figure even among the scholars, finding allies from every turn who are willing to support him. Then his campaign takes a potentially violent turn, and the Powers-That-Be had to take him down.
In taking him down, instead of stopping his followers in their tracks, support for his way of thinking even grew more dramatically. In the end, the Powers-That-Be launched a bloodbath even worse than they had initially feared.
I am not talking about Saddam Hussein. I am talking about Jose Rizal, dead today 110 years past.
In some way, I am also talking about the Christ, whose supreme sacrifice we continue to remember, but ironically we remain more fixated with the season of his birth than the manner of his death, which should inspire us more to take heed of the ideals of his ministry.
Regardless (before I launch a diatribe against the commercialization of Christmas and the all-too palpable "deification" of Jose Rizal), the death of Saddam Hussein leaves me torn.
Saddam was never a hero. He was the supreme opportunist, parlaying his organizational genius to break into the halls of power, peddling both Arabic nationalist slogans and a vision of a strong Middle Eastern state (in Iraq) as he rode the waves of turmoil to grab the Presidency of Iraq.
He kept the various factions and tribes together, dealing with the most intractable with an iron fist. He elevated Iraq from obscurity to front-page headlines by invading Iran as the US's proxy against the Glorious Islamic Revolution of Ayatollah Khomeini. He succeeded in fostering a fervent Iraqi nationalism, spearheading the outflow of prodigious Iraqi scholars and businessmen, and came close to making his Iraq a secular, albeit disciplined and moral state.
That he was devious, underhanded, and perhaps a misanthrope to boot is beside the point. One can point out to several historical antecedents and to current examples among today's world leaders. Saddam was never unique, and he never claimed to be.
Was it hubris that caused his downfall? Perhaps. The invasion of Kuwait was definitely a no-no, and his subsequent conduct of his occupation and the resultant counter-invasion by the Grand Coalition exposed him for the craven manipulator that he was. The US leadership at the time, for all its brilliance in ousting Saddam from Kuwait, could have and should have finished the job of ridding Iraq of Saddam then. There would have been no question of intervention, and countless lives would have been saved as the Kurds who rose in rebellion (abetted surely by the US) would not have been on the business end of Saddam's revenge.
As it was, the elder Bush administration pulled its punches, and was subsequently upended by the Democratic challenger, Bill Clinton.
Fast-forward to events of recent vintage. The younger Bush, a slicker communicator but perhaps half (or even less) the statesman his father was, invaded Iraq (despite prevaling international sentiment against the same) on the pretext that Saddam had a cache of chemical weapons and weapons of mass destruction. The war is now entering its fifth year, and no sign of these weapons has been established. Iraq, too, has bogged down into a morass of sectarian and ethnic strife.
I am torn not because I have any remorse over the death of Saddam. He got his just deserts, despite the kangaroo court the Iraqi government set up to try him of war crimes. The charges were ridiculous, rather off-tangent. Few people would agree to the manner in which the former dictator was tried, though most would readily agree that the heavy hand of American interventionism was fully involved.
I am torn because the swirl and shift of events in this part of the world, which I consider another haven, have become even murkier, darker, and filled with the quiet promise of more violence.
Perhaps the American leadership and those who supported the war would say this hanging has the stamp of "mission accomplished," and go on with the business of securing the Iraqi "democracy." Oh sure, I'm ecstatic with delight. The US presence has neither stopped the violence at the grassroots level and nor have they won over the locals or the international community for this hateful war.
This hanging, however, is just the beginning of another stage in the war, and so far, what I get is that Saddam was not executed, he was martyred. The thought of placing him in the same company as Jesus and Jose Rizal makes me cringe. No, check that, it makes me sick to my soul.
Back home, the heavy hand of the Americans again makes itself felt when the Arroyo administration finally caves in to pressure and sends convicted rapist Daniel Smith back to the custody of the US Embassy.
Rizal duly foretold the annexation of the Philippines by the United States nine years before the event. I wonder what will Rizal make of how weak-kneed and shortsighted the mass of Filipinos have become, while their leaders, instead of taking them forward, have become their most ardent oppressors, all in their name.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Starburst
Our organization, SPA-TDG, held its Christmas party at a private function room in one of the hotels in Khobar. The celebration was a bit muted, as some of our members were not in Saudi Arabia or had other activities that conflicted with our schedule.
Two of my former students spoke of their lives in Manila, away from their parents, and more than one parent had to fight back the tears. Separation is never a good thing - the child may be able to bear it, but the parent? Never.
I'd like to dedicate the lyrics of this song (written by Sergio Mendes, Alan & Marilyn Bergman) to my former students who are making their way of young adulthood as university students. I don't envy them the angst they must undergo - but I do envy the open road of their lives. Oh, I wouldn't dare go back that road again if I have no means to change what I've done! But for them, at least, I see the uncertainty and the hope, mixed in with youthful energy. I don't think they'll believe me that until they become parents (a state, sadly, I have yet to reach) these years will be the ones that they'll remember with the most fondness for the rest of their lives.
It's for the One whom I hope to find, or that she finds me.
It's also for the family back home. It never felt so gut-wrenching than when I realized that it's my empty seat, my empty place at the table that gives my mother and my sister (and all the rest) a reason to be sad. There is a pang because they miss me. How could I be so secure when they need me? When I examine that reality through the prism of their emotions, I just wish I could be there to give them the comfort that they need and deserve.
SO MANY STARS
The dawn is filled with dreams
So many dreams - which one is mine?
One must be right for me
Which dream of all the dreams -
When there’s a dream for every star?
And there are - oh - so many stars
So many stars . . .
The wind is filled with songs
So many songs, which one is mine?
One must be right for me
Which song of all the songs
When there’s a song for every star?
And there are - oh - so many stars
So many stars . . .
Along the countless days
The endless nights
That I have searched
So many eyes, so many hearts, so many smiles
Which one to choose?
Which way to go?
How can I tell, how will I know?
Out of - oh - so many stars
So many stars . . .
Yes the wind is filled with songs
So many songs, which one is mine?
One must be right for me
Which song of all the songs
When there’s a song for every star?
And there are oh so many stars
So many stars . . .
Along the countless days
The endless nights
That I have searched
So many eyes, so many hearts, so many smiles
Which one to choose?
Which way to go?
How can I tell, how will I know?
Out of - oh - so many stars
So many stars,
Oh so many stars, so many stars
Oh there are so many stars, so many stars
Lots and lots of stars, so many stars
Oh so many, so many stars
Oh so many many, so many many stars so many stars
P.S. The treacliness of the song just gets away in the end, but I don't mind.
Two of my former students spoke of their lives in Manila, away from their parents, and more than one parent had to fight back the tears. Separation is never a good thing - the child may be able to bear it, but the parent? Never.
I'd like to dedicate the lyrics of this song (written by Sergio Mendes, Alan & Marilyn Bergman) to my former students who are making their way of young adulthood as university students. I don't envy them the angst they must undergo - but I do envy the open road of their lives. Oh, I wouldn't dare go back that road again if I have no means to change what I've done! But for them, at least, I see the uncertainty and the hope, mixed in with youthful energy. I don't think they'll believe me that until they become parents (a state, sadly, I have yet to reach) these years will be the ones that they'll remember with the most fondness for the rest of their lives.
It's for the One whom I hope to find, or that she finds me.
It's also for the family back home. It never felt so gut-wrenching than when I realized that it's my empty seat, my empty place at the table that gives my mother and my sister (and all the rest) a reason to be sad. There is a pang because they miss me. How could I be so secure when they need me? When I examine that reality through the prism of their emotions, I just wish I could be there to give them the comfort that they need and deserve.
SO MANY STARS
The dawn is filled with dreams
So many dreams - which one is mine?
One must be right for me
Which dream of all the dreams -
When there’s a dream for every star?
And there are - oh - so many stars
So many stars . . .
The wind is filled with songs
So many songs, which one is mine?
One must be right for me
Which song of all the songs
When there’s a song for every star?
And there are - oh - so many stars
So many stars . . .
Along the countless days
The endless nights
That I have searched
So many eyes, so many hearts, so many smiles
Which one to choose?
Which way to go?
How can I tell, how will I know?
Out of - oh - so many stars
So many stars . . .
Yes the wind is filled with songs
So many songs, which one is mine?
One must be right for me
Which song of all the songs
When there’s a song for every star?
And there are oh so many stars
So many stars . . .
Along the countless days
The endless nights
That I have searched
So many eyes, so many hearts, so many smiles
Which one to choose?
Which way to go?
How can I tell, how will I know?
Out of - oh - so many stars
So many stars,
Oh so many stars, so many stars
Oh there are so many stars, so many stars
Lots and lots of stars, so many stars
Oh so many, so many stars
Oh so many many, so many many stars so many stars
P.S. The treacliness of the song just gets away in the end, but I don't mind.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Finding Possibilities in Chennai
This is part two of my Chennai story.
I spent four full days in Chennai doing work for our office, as per my previous post. All I can say about that work is that I wish I didn't have to do it, but I'm glad it afforded me the chance to travel.
It's the third time I'm doing this post, with delays from work and my own indolence - but anyway I'd like to finish before I move on to other things.
Some few Chennai facts I gathered from my readings -
- Chennai is the traditional historical name for this area - the name of the second town that was merged with the original British settlement called Madras. Up until the millennium Madras was this city's name and until now outsiders prefer to call it by that name, though the Indian nationalists foisted the traditional name in 1996.
- The city is the fourth-largest metropolitan area in India, topping over seven million people within the city and its suburbs.
- It is one of the largest manufacturing areas in India - it is sometimes called the "Detroit of South Asia."
Frankly though, most of these escaped me until I did some reading on Chennai a day or so before my trip. Furthermore, the impact of the city and the people was something I did not expect.
Upon arriving, the first thing I noticed passing through immigration was the THRONG of people all over the place - both within and without the airport. It was a scale I haven't encountered for a normal activity since my days in college enrolling at UP (I gather it hasn't improved much, still, these days). I expected to have some problems with the smell of people (judging from the Indians over here), but instead I was overpowered with the crushing smell of HUMANITY. It was a physical force. No offense intended, really, but South Asians just have this odor that differentiates them from East Asians (who, incidentally, in close quarters, have their own unique pheromonic index), and from Filipinos in particular.
I was glad to see at least more than one foreign face to accompany me on the waiting line. Two hyped-up girls with London accents were behind me in the immigration line, and there was one Chinese lady from Hong Kong and some other Caucasians. It was a welcome relief to know people would stare at someone else than me while I was in the airport. I had that strange feeling when I queued up for my flight from Dammam.
Getting out of the airport was a chore. The baggage claim took almost an hour. I quipped to one of my fellow travelers, "We spent more time waiting at the carousel than we did on the flight!" Finally, the bags came through and I was ready to go.
I don't know if this is the same for the other major cities of India, but Chennai is filled with billboards! I thought Metro Manila had it bad, but downtown Chennai, if such an expression could be said and still remain fair, was worse. The billboards of every known product and service one can think of - well, they are all blown up in full-color, with accompanying model. At least the billboards are not raunchy. But seeing them for oneself can make one go cross-eyed.
The hotel I stayed in was a little bump above three stars, but it was comfortable. It offered no view since I was on the second floor and just across me was another office building. The glass window and the airconditioning did little to muffle the horns of the passing vehicles below. As I mentioned in my previous post, the food left a lot to be desired, but at least I could pick up a Western breakfast - no guarantees it will be healthy, but at the very least I could eat it.
The workdays breezed by most quickly - and I could attest to the quiet competence of our people based in our Chennai office. Like many young Filipinos, they were filled with hopes for the future and tried to bear their challenges as best as they could. It is no wonder why Indians make a beeline out of their own country --- there just isn't enough room for all that human potential, and besides, some "fools" from the Middle East are willing to pay just a little more.
One particular note is the preoccupation with wedding dowries. A fair-sized wedding, which the bride's family would shoulder, would be in the vicinity of 6-8 lakhs (1 lakh=Rs.100,000), though some people would hardly agree to anything less than 10 lakhs. One well-to-do person I spoke to admitted to spending 20 lakhs (Rs.2,000,000) for his eldest daughter's wedding. There are gifts for the couple, inclusive, and cash and gifts for the groom's family, should they be so inclined (and if not, the money goes to the couple anyway). One hideous and polite business curse I read from somewhere else goes like "May you have ten daughters, and may they all marry well!"
Naturally, the higher the salary and social desirability of the groom (inclusive of his family background - father's job, etc.; educational qualifications; employment position; other achievements), the higher the expense. Man, had I lived with this kind of influence, I would have killed myself to get all those honors up until university. At least that portion of the rat race would have yielded some rewards.
Indian men, in that respect, would go out of their way to put themselves on a higher social station. They can be very lucky in one way but in another, since they bear all the responsibilities in a relationship, it's just a balance.
It still surprises me how mainstream Indian society is still very conservative. All the more because of the perversities existing in it (which I need not mention). Well, there is a direct relationship between the norms of a society and things/ideas which have shock value in said society. People will go to outrageous extremes to prove their fervor or rebellion. If you don't believe me on this, talk to the Muslims and learn what they think of their extremists. And, as a Catholic, I believe this applies just as well.
I had the privilege of visiting the Basilica of St. Thomas the Apostle and praying at the site of his tomb while I was there. Though some hagiographers still dispute over the traditions over the historical accuracy of St. Thomas' mission in India, the belief is very strong that Thomas made his way to the Mylapore area in Chennai and preached in the area. He was met with firm opposition and several times had to hide in caves in the hills around Chennai. Accounts have it that he was killed while he was praying.
The basilica is built alongside the so-called site of his tomb. It's rather small, and its history outlines some tragedy (it was set to the torch by a zealous Muslim ruler), but as you can see from the picture, there is a quiet majesty to the old church. When I visited, a wedding was about to take place, and a church is never at its loveliest than when a wedding is celebrated. I smiled at the women and the nuns in the church while I took some more pictures.
The tomb itself is in a separate structure. On the ground floor is the museum of antiquities, while the tomb itself is below ground. The inner sanctum was dedicated two years ago after another set of renovations. I saw some articles from St. Francis Xavier, Jesuit missionary, among others. Perhaps I was numb, but it took some time before I took in the pregnant possibilities of this place. I was in a place where a man who lived with Jesus was buried! The thought floored me when I got back to the hotel. It still gives me goosebumps, even now.
The relative simplicity of the basilica was in stark contrast to the Kapaalesswarar Temple, with its various representations of the Lord Shiva and the rest of the Hindu pantheon. It was a shame that the temple was closed when I arrived, as I had wanted to see the real deal. But judging from other representations of Hindu art, it wouldn't be far off the mark that ornateness is the deal for the temple.
Chennai still has its living history. The old British outpost - Fort St. George - still houses the legislature and various government offices. It was Saturday, so I couldn't enter the compound. In one quarter of the city the glory of the British Raj is still very evident - the High Court, blending Neo-Gothic severity with the vigor of Indian architecture, the Public Works building, and the old Madras schools built by the British. The Thousand Lights Mosque is said to be a powerful statement of the Muslim faith - I passed it and tried to snap a good photo, but it didn't turn out right.
The most prestigious sectarian school in Chennai, is Loyola College, founded by the Jesuits in the late 18th century. It's funny because my identity was shaped by my schooling with the De La Salle (Christian) Brothers - who happen to be the most heated rivals of the Jesuits in terms of education. At least in the Philippines that's who they were. I mean, ARE.
The most amazing feature of Chennai is its public beach --- at 13 km, its Marina is one of the longest stretches of sand in the entire world. I wish I had more time to go around the memorials and other points of interests. But I was running on a meter, and I wasn't exactly a tourist. I just stared at the sea and listened to the waves beat upon the sand.
Before I left for Chennai I was a bundle of emotions looking for something, anything, to grasp. Mainly it was work, or most likely the absence of meaningful activity apart from work. Listening to the sea, and letting the experience of this new place get to me, taking in the unique fragrance of salt on land, my spirit lay still and I found some peace.
I need a little of that peace as this world is still a tough one. Not to mention the near-traumatic experience I had when the Saudi airport authorities checked my luggage on my way back to Dammam. Isaac Asimov said something to the effect that the acme of stupidity smacks of genius. I was foolish enough to buy representations of the Hindu gods as souvenirs for my friends in Saudi Arabia. I was half-shocked (the other half conveniently snapping up, "How stupid could you get?") when the x-ray guy at the airport said the idols were proscribed. I believe it was my sincere incredulity of my trespass that convinced him.
And now I am back here, in the thick of mundane things, despairing again of another Christmas spent away from my family. In my heart of hearts I light a candle, and hope again that the wonder and peace of those moments in Chennai, will give me solace until that day my feet touch my native soil and breathe once more, the atmosphere of home.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Chennai Friday Five
I'm in Chennai, India monitoring our engineering office. Since I have committed from the very beginning not to talk too much about work, I'll keep the details to other gems of my stay here in India.
One is tempted to make the most exaggerated claims about travel horror stories, and with Chennai it is no different. This is India's fourth-largest metropolitan area and the airport is a mess. Almost as bad in Manila in some ways and even worse in others. The State Government is upgrading the airport and the building is ongoing.
Chennai is a favorite destination for overseas companies to build representative offices --- it has a well-educated workforce, is cheaper than Mumbai, and still retains a lot of its colonial and pre-British charm. Our representative office here is managed by a very affable man, and since I can't name him or describe him otherwise, you have to take my word for it.
The streets of downtown Chennai, like in some places in Manila and the old towns, have been built with horses in mind. As such, the traffic can be pretty horrible in places. The traffic is pretty much like Manila and Indian drivers are more maniacal, if there could be such a degree, than Arab drivers. Now I understand why most Indians in the Middle East except the bigshots who thrive on image instead of substance, can live with almost any make of car because the cars here perforce must be small to deal with the traffic, crazy motorcyclists, bikers, and the "auto-taxis" (which incidentally are tricycles, similar to the tuctucs of Bangkok). One remarkable car is the Hindustan Ambassador (www.hmambassador.com), which is also my service to and fro the hotel. It reminds me of a high-end jeepney.
The food is tolerable but I now know one reason why Indian food tastes so differently is the oil that they use. I ordered a club sandwich from room service the other night and the fries were greasy and different-tasting. Ugh! But at least room service is cheap compared to Philippine or Arab hotels.
I'll have a part two on this when I get back to Dammam since I have to finish up my Friday five and then leave the office.
1) Who was your first crush? (Celebrity or average) - My first crush, I think, was with a Dolphy girl. The ordinary one, I think, was with one of our friends from Pangasinan. She came over to live with us to look for work. I was about eight or nine when she came over. In high school, the first girl I liked was this girl named Ena from St. Paul in Pasig. If she ever reads this, I hope it tickles her pink.
2) Who do you currently have a crush on now? Keeley Hazell! But there's always been somebody...
3) Have you ever become so obsessed with a crush, you went to extreme measures to find out everything about him/her? Yes, and I need not tell what I did.
4) Has your crush ever turned out to be your future girlfriend/boyfriend? Yes, once. That was a long time ago.
5) Did a best friend ever turn into more than just a friend? Nope. Just like Ross in "Friends" I get to become friends with girls and then I can't get out of the "Friend Zone." If he's the mayor of the Zone, then I'm its president.
One is tempted to make the most exaggerated claims about travel horror stories, and with Chennai it is no different. This is India's fourth-largest metropolitan area and the airport is a mess. Almost as bad in Manila in some ways and even worse in others. The State Government is upgrading the airport and the building is ongoing.
Chennai is a favorite destination for overseas companies to build representative offices --- it has a well-educated workforce, is cheaper than Mumbai, and still retains a lot of its colonial and pre-British charm. Our representative office here is managed by a very affable man, and since I can't name him or describe him otherwise, you have to take my word for it.
The streets of downtown Chennai, like in some places in Manila and the old towns, have been built with horses in mind. As such, the traffic can be pretty horrible in places. The traffic is pretty much like Manila and Indian drivers are more maniacal, if there could be such a degree, than Arab drivers. Now I understand why most Indians in the Middle East except the bigshots who thrive on image instead of substance, can live with almost any make of car because the cars here perforce must be small to deal with the traffic, crazy motorcyclists, bikers, and the "auto-taxis" (which incidentally are tricycles, similar to the tuctucs of Bangkok). One remarkable car is the Hindustan Ambassador (www.hmambassador.com), which is also my service to and fro the hotel. It reminds me of a high-end jeepney.
The food is tolerable but I now know one reason why Indian food tastes so differently is the oil that they use. I ordered a club sandwich from room service the other night and the fries were greasy and different-tasting. Ugh! But at least room service is cheap compared to Philippine or Arab hotels.
I'll have a part two on this when I get back to Dammam since I have to finish up my Friday five and then leave the office.
1) Who was your first crush? (Celebrity or average) - My first crush, I think, was with a Dolphy girl. The ordinary one, I think, was with one of our friends from Pangasinan. She came over to live with us to look for work. I was about eight or nine when she came over. In high school, the first girl I liked was this girl named Ena from St. Paul in Pasig. If she ever reads this, I hope it tickles her pink.
2) Who do you currently have a crush on now? Keeley Hazell! But there's always been somebody...
3) Have you ever become so obsessed with a crush, you went to extreme measures to find out everything about him/her? Yes, and I need not tell what I did.
4) Has your crush ever turned out to be your future girlfriend/boyfriend? Yes, once. That was a long time ago.
5) Did a best friend ever turn into more than just a friend? Nope. Just like Ross in "Friends" I get to become friends with girls and then I can't get out of the "Friend Zone." If he's the mayor of the Zone, then I'm its president.
Monday, December 11, 2006
The Means is the Way
I haven't commented much on the political situation in the Philippines for some time. Mainly because of the monotony. Mainly because all the issues have, for some time, been drawn out ad infinitum ad nauseam.
I had hopes that the lull would mean that there would be some consolidation prior to the May elections. The foreign policy spectrum of the Philippines will face some realignment following the Democrats' victory in the US this November. Oppositionists in the Philippines are taking their cue that May would be the next best opportunity to run the table and thus gain the initiative over the administration. There is little doubt that this electoral exercise would properly gauge the hold of the administration over public opinion and thus the country.
Let's just say I'd rather not be smug about how the administration has bungled the job, etc. etc. at running the country. There are far too many crows waiting at this feast, eager for the morsels of a post-mortem, and perhaps, even hastening the "inevitable" downfall. While I deplore that the mass of Filipinos is less sanguine about the essence of democracy and the deeper implications of such a system, I have greater faith in their impatience and their cynicism in our leaders.
Any self-serving politician without a reform agenda is just as marooned as any of the congressmen who have little else to show to their constituencies than toeing the administration line.
Still, I am troubled that strong-arm rule remains the special du jour for many of the disenchanted. I admire that they have read up on the progress of our neighbors Singapore and Malaysia, and perhaps Vietnam, and then concluding that no dissent is the best way to run a country. I have news for them - there is no guarantee that strong-arm rule will make your country rich. Take Argentina, Chile, Myanmar, or your selection of African countries.
Or take the Philippines under Marcos.
These same people are "appalled" that "contentiousness" is ruining the progress of any administration. They posit that good ideas are downgraded because of opposition - but I find that funny. To draw a point, something of ethereal beauty is not made any less because some person has a different conception of it. What appals me is that they would willingly cede many of their freedoms for a semblance of order and direction.
A word to the wise: the road to perdition feels just as safe and secure as the road to paradise, probably even more comfortable. Never forget that the right path does not a wide one make. The means is the way. For true democracy to function, we must allow the democratic design to unfold in due course. Otherwise, we become victims of contingency, swimming in an ad hoc sea.
The current hubbub emerging from the House effort to constitute itself as the lone agency to amend the Constitution is simply this: we cannot abandon the means of our democratic structure in order to rush "changes" as we perceive them. Now, I'm not going to plant myself in any of the camps as to my preferences over the form of government.That in itself is another issue for another day. We cannot condone bulldozing of our processes for the sake of the vague "reform." And, to use the hackneyed phrase, "at the end of the day," whatever form of government we have, it will be the same people littering the halls of the new legislature.
To date, we have not resolved our electoral processes to ensure that votes are counted correctly and quickly so that the true voice of the people is expressed. Let's have a clean, honest, open, and peaceful elections before we start speaking of unicameral or bicameral legislatures. If the form of selecting people is attainted, no means of sophistry would justify the form of government.
To date, we have not resolved the perks that Congressmen and Senators have arrogated upon themselves. The pork barrel will also be the means to control legislators regardless of whatever form of government we have. Let's abolish pork barrel forever because it is the primary temptation for any legislator to graft. Legislators are not implementors, and if they can't go through red tape of their local governments as they aver in order to push their pet projects, then tough. Welcome to the real world, ladies and gentlemen.
To date, we have not settled the moral authority of this administration to govern. That is to say, too, that not being in the government gives any presidential wannabes a "get out of jail free" card. The election in May 2007 should help resolve the stalemate. If the administration is as great as it puffs itself to be, then it should have no problem securing the mandate. If, as the pro-administration people correctly fear, that the opposition will win and then impeachment will secure enough votes, then the rule of law should prevail in the same way the pro-GMAers justified the quashing of the impeachment complaint.
It's not that impeachment is the best thing for us, but it does put the issue into perspective - why vote people in the first place when we want to impeach them? We might as well not have elections. Let the mob rule. Rather, the impeachment process is merely the form by which our catharsis from the time we kicked out Erap takes shape. GMA in or out, we will have the opportunity for closure. Then the clock will be reset and a new political landscape, I hope, will be easier to chart.
The answer to gridlock from above is decentralization. The Local Government Code has provided for that, but old habits die hard.
We have all the laws we need to make our government work. The software and the hardware are all plugged in, so to speak. It's the people-ware that now has to factor in --- I just hope all Filipinos would make it count.
I had hopes that the lull would mean that there would be some consolidation prior to the May elections. The foreign policy spectrum of the Philippines will face some realignment following the Democrats' victory in the US this November. Oppositionists in the Philippines are taking their cue that May would be the next best opportunity to run the table and thus gain the initiative over the administration. There is little doubt that this electoral exercise would properly gauge the hold of the administration over public opinion and thus the country.
Let's just say I'd rather not be smug about how the administration has bungled the job, etc. etc. at running the country. There are far too many crows waiting at this feast, eager for the morsels of a post-mortem, and perhaps, even hastening the "inevitable" downfall. While I deplore that the mass of Filipinos is less sanguine about the essence of democracy and the deeper implications of such a system, I have greater faith in their impatience and their cynicism in our leaders.
Any self-serving politician without a reform agenda is just as marooned as any of the congressmen who have little else to show to their constituencies than toeing the administration line.
Still, I am troubled that strong-arm rule remains the special du jour for many of the disenchanted. I admire that they have read up on the progress of our neighbors Singapore and Malaysia, and perhaps Vietnam, and then concluding that no dissent is the best way to run a country. I have news for them - there is no guarantee that strong-arm rule will make your country rich. Take Argentina, Chile, Myanmar, or your selection of African countries.
Or take the Philippines under Marcos.
These same people are "appalled" that "contentiousness" is ruining the progress of any administration. They posit that good ideas are downgraded because of opposition - but I find that funny. To draw a point, something of ethereal beauty is not made any less because some person has a different conception of it. What appals me is that they would willingly cede many of their freedoms for a semblance of order and direction.
A word to the wise: the road to perdition feels just as safe and secure as the road to paradise, probably even more comfortable. Never forget that the right path does not a wide one make. The means is the way. For true democracy to function, we must allow the democratic design to unfold in due course. Otherwise, we become victims of contingency, swimming in an ad hoc sea.
The current hubbub emerging from the House effort to constitute itself as the lone agency to amend the Constitution is simply this: we cannot abandon the means of our democratic structure in order to rush "changes" as we perceive them. Now, I'm not going to plant myself in any of the camps as to my preferences over the form of government.That in itself is another issue for another day. We cannot condone bulldozing of our processes for the sake of the vague "reform." And, to use the hackneyed phrase, "at the end of the day," whatever form of government we have, it will be the same people littering the halls of the new legislature.
To date, we have not resolved our electoral processes to ensure that votes are counted correctly and quickly so that the true voice of the people is expressed. Let's have a clean, honest, open, and peaceful elections before we start speaking of unicameral or bicameral legislatures. If the form of selecting people is attainted, no means of sophistry would justify the form of government.
To date, we have not resolved the perks that Congressmen and Senators have arrogated upon themselves. The pork barrel will also be the means to control legislators regardless of whatever form of government we have. Let's abolish pork barrel forever because it is the primary temptation for any legislator to graft. Legislators are not implementors, and if they can't go through red tape of their local governments as they aver in order to push their pet projects, then tough. Welcome to the real world, ladies and gentlemen.
To date, we have not settled the moral authority of this administration to govern. That is to say, too, that not being in the government gives any presidential wannabes a "get out of jail free" card. The election in May 2007 should help resolve the stalemate. If the administration is as great as it puffs itself to be, then it should have no problem securing the mandate. If, as the pro-administration people correctly fear, that the opposition will win and then impeachment will secure enough votes, then the rule of law should prevail in the same way the pro-GMAers justified the quashing of the impeachment complaint.
It's not that impeachment is the best thing for us, but it does put the issue into perspective - why vote people in the first place when we want to impeach them? We might as well not have elections. Let the mob rule. Rather, the impeachment process is merely the form by which our catharsis from the time we kicked out Erap takes shape. GMA in or out, we will have the opportunity for closure. Then the clock will be reset and a new political landscape, I hope, will be easier to chart.
The answer to gridlock from above is decentralization. The Local Government Code has provided for that, but old habits die hard.
We have all the laws we need to make our government work. The software and the hardware are all plugged in, so to speak. It's the people-ware that now has to factor in --- I just hope all Filipinos would make it count.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
All Goodbyes Are Mostly Bitter
I don't know of any goodbye that isn't wracked with regret.
Mostly goodbyes are hard and painful.
There isn't a goodbye that I wouldn't rather forget
I just look forward to the next hello that's waiting.
My cousin Alvin Pineda passed away on the first day of December. For almost thirty-six years he labored against the odds and survived as long as he had. I hadn't seem him for the longest time until I went home for vacation in the middle of this year. We went to the apartment their family was sharing and in one corner of their "bedroom" he was splayed out on a foam mattress. His maternal grandmother watched him dutifully, keeping him from having abrasions by toweling off his sweat and giving him regular sponge baths.
He was cared for like he was no more than a toddler. He lived and died barely in touch with even an inkling of his human potential.
My cousin Alvin had Down's syndrome.
In this land, finding true friends is just as hard as managing to find yourself in a crowd is as simple as snapping your fingers. You must perforce make friends on the job or you wilt like a flower that does not see rain. While this does not bode the best thing for you, it is the only thing that ensures your survival. These friends may not prove to be the most natural ones for you, but some of them can and have proven to be the best friendships one may ever have.
Which is why, there is no good goodbye. Ever. From the moment someone says, "I'm giving up, this is it for me" and makes preparations for the trip home or points elsewhere, there is just no happy ending. Could one have done something to make the decision easier for that person to stay? Or to leave? What happens next? Do we catch up next time, or do we catch up again, ever?
Would it be enough to say, "good luck" to make up for all those times you have been together? Even if, in hindsight, you and your cronies were just shooting the shit finding some creative ways to kill time? How can you accurately put these into words?
More and more I have to come see life through the prism of people - and departing people is so much harder. A place is just a place.
No, I am not devastated by the knowledge that my cousin who would probably have not recognized me has died. Rather, I am saddened by the contingencies and the constraints that have kept him alive and then allowed him to live that way. I only have compassion for his parents, who tried to handle raising a differently-abled child their own way, in the best way they could, without depriving the rest of their children.
It's the tough ones, the recalcitrant ones, the unresponsive ones, the troubled ones, that make them special.
And so we go back full circle --- back here, because the conditions make the relationships one chooses more special.
Speaking of the special ones, even the small ones, the insignificant ones, the what-could-have-been ones, goodbyes are more often than not, bitter.
Even if saying goodbye meant leaving a difficult situation (as I once did back home before I came here), it's the though of not having done it earlier that will haunt you. There is hardly any goodbye that carries with it the sweetness of accomplishment. It's normally just the relief of surviving.
As in death, so in life and love. There are places in my heart that hold all those lost loves --- even the crushes, the what-could-have-beens, the never-did-happens. Yes, even those. It's not like I am perpetually browsing through these places, but I hope you get the idea. They become more special because they are not part of the continuity of my life, but even if they do in some way, they are not the same as what I would wish for.
There is only the hope that somehow sweetens the goodbye but there is nothing, nothing that it can do to leave the aftertaste of bitterness. Only the expectation that someday, you will get together soon.
Mostly goodbyes are hard and painful.
There isn't a goodbye that I wouldn't rather forget
I just look forward to the next hello that's waiting.
My cousin Alvin Pineda passed away on the first day of December. For almost thirty-six years he labored against the odds and survived as long as he had. I hadn't seem him for the longest time until I went home for vacation in the middle of this year. We went to the apartment their family was sharing and in one corner of their "bedroom" he was splayed out on a foam mattress. His maternal grandmother watched him dutifully, keeping him from having abrasions by toweling off his sweat and giving him regular sponge baths.
He was cared for like he was no more than a toddler. He lived and died barely in touch with even an inkling of his human potential.
My cousin Alvin had Down's syndrome.
In this land, finding true friends is just as hard as managing to find yourself in a crowd is as simple as snapping your fingers. You must perforce make friends on the job or you wilt like a flower that does not see rain. While this does not bode the best thing for you, it is the only thing that ensures your survival. These friends may not prove to be the most natural ones for you, but some of them can and have proven to be the best friendships one may ever have.
Which is why, there is no good goodbye. Ever. From the moment someone says, "I'm giving up, this is it for me" and makes preparations for the trip home or points elsewhere, there is just no happy ending. Could one have done something to make the decision easier for that person to stay? Or to leave? What happens next? Do we catch up next time, or do we catch up again, ever?
Would it be enough to say, "good luck" to make up for all those times you have been together? Even if, in hindsight, you and your cronies were just shooting the shit finding some creative ways to kill time? How can you accurately put these into words?
More and more I have to come see life through the prism of people - and departing people is so much harder. A place is just a place.
No, I am not devastated by the knowledge that my cousin who would probably have not recognized me has died. Rather, I am saddened by the contingencies and the constraints that have kept him alive and then allowed him to live that way. I only have compassion for his parents, who tried to handle raising a differently-abled child their own way, in the best way they could, without depriving the rest of their children.
It's the tough ones, the recalcitrant ones, the unresponsive ones, the troubled ones, that make them special.
And so we go back full circle --- back here, because the conditions make the relationships one chooses more special.
Speaking of the special ones, even the small ones, the insignificant ones, the what-could-have-been ones, goodbyes are more often than not, bitter.
Even if saying goodbye meant leaving a difficult situation (as I once did back home before I came here), it's the though of not having done it earlier that will haunt you. There is hardly any goodbye that carries with it the sweetness of accomplishment. It's normally just the relief of surviving.
As in death, so in life and love. There are places in my heart that hold all those lost loves --- even the crushes, the what-could-have-beens, the never-did-happens. Yes, even those. It's not like I am perpetually browsing through these places, but I hope you get the idea. They become more special because they are not part of the continuity of my life, but even if they do in some way, they are not the same as what I would wish for.
There is only the hope that somehow sweetens the goodbye but there is nothing, nothing that it can do to leave the aftertaste of bitterness. Only the expectation that someday, you will get together soon.
Locked Out
I'm e-mailing this post because apparently the IT boys in our office have locked out logging into Beta Blogger.
Aside from ruining most of the templates I previously used, I can't post easily from Flickr because of this upgrade. Makes me wish I hadn't done it (too late! too late!)
Hope this goes through. Well, there's always the Internet cafe nearby, but why pay an extra buck when the office gives the service for free?
Aside from ruining most of the templates I previously used, I can't post easily from Flickr because of this upgrade. Makes me wish I hadn't done it (too late! too late!)
Hope this goes through. Well, there's always the Internet cafe nearby, but why pay an extra buck when the office gives the service for free?
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
So It Seems to Say...
That I am happier than I would seem to be.
Authentic Happiness Inventory Test - registration required
Authentic Happiness Inventory Score: 3.63 on a scale of 1 to 5, five being the highest.
I scored better than ---
79 % of all Web users
77 % of my gender
84 % of age group
79 % of occupation group
81 % of education level
83 % of people within my zip code.
Well, in private moments I DO FEEL HAPPIER, sometimes more than I think I should be. Isn't that strange?
Authentic Happiness Inventory Test - registration required
Authentic Happiness Inventory Score: 3.63 on a scale of 1 to 5, five being the highest.
I scored better than ---
79 % of all Web users
77 % of my gender
84 % of age group
79 % of occupation group
81 % of education level
83 % of people within my zip code.
Well, in private moments I DO FEEL HAPPIER, sometimes more than I think I should be. Isn't that strange?
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