Random Thoughts 3

I have a mom that is ill. I have a dad who's not been with us for six straight years. I have a scarred relationship with them because I decided to go away and seek my own life.

Accused of running away from a socially inculturated obligation, I might appear guilty beyond reasonable doubt in the courts of men. And there are no defenses neither conclusive evidences that will acquit me from this crime.

This is how other people would look at me. They would always see their own perception of reality from their position. On my part, this is would be unbearable struggle that I have to contend with.

The issue is unresolved. And I want to shout to the world why I chose the things I choose. It is not to reap a comfortable and almost problem-free life. It is not to enjoy a considerable amount freedom. Neither it is to run away from an obligation that I am expected to do.

This burden is tougher to carry since I was never oblivious to my own predicament. I swear to God, I never intend all these things to happen. I just couldn't delay some things that is why I have to decide on what to do with my life.
Unfortunately, I was called to share my life other people beyond the discomfort of my home. And thus, I chose to leave with my heart breaking, with a piece of my humanity beaten and torn.

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My teaching experience is an everyday discovery of the things that I am capable and not-so capable of.

Interestingly enough, I am learning to be more patient. I am learning to respect the liberty of other people by not being tyrannical with my scheme. I am being reminded occasionally of my own biases and prejudices, and that I may stand objective upon them. I experience a profound struggle in ordering myself and in simulating professionalism. Others do it thru pre-established conditions. I, on the other hand thrive in an environment where I had to be strict in defining self-discipline.

Though sometimes I would look back to my past and see what I thought I would be like. And I could only weep in exasperation as I lift myself up, contemplating that I was meant for something much more than this. And what a humbling experience I've got from dreaming so high, from trying to reach the heavens, and from regarding myself supreme.

My past achievements, which I thought was my passport to the world I dreamt of, are just a remnant of a past. I cannot use them because somewhere, somehow I had to start anew. And so the high dream, the lofty heaven and the high regard are now set aside. I had to go back to square one and prove myself worthy in the so-termed real world. This is a new battleground. This is a new fight.

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And so a humbling experience came seem out of nowhere. But now I am inclined to believe that this is just part of a grand design for me. Call it a blueprint, a master plan that carries a series of codes to be decoded. Albeit difficult, there must have been some value in it. Some value, which I had to decipher myself. And I am up for the challenge.

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A very good friend of mine, once asked me in an SMS if I am trying to escape the rigours in Manila. Honestly, it struck me. I know it's a no nonsense inquiry.

Am I really here because I shunned myself afraid of what lies in Manila? That of the unknown. Yes there could be a promise of an investment-return albeit pretty short-term career; but I can't resolve myself to that. Perhaps it's an issue of the ego.

How about my mom? Could I just be selfish enough not to think of my family at this midst of crises? But we all make our own life and the destiny that lies ahead is certainly of our own making and choosing. Maybe I have known Palawan because it shall serve me some purpose. Something that may be beneficial for them in the long run. Not now. But in the future, I am certain.

I cannot rub myself of an experience that I will cherish for a lifetime and that would in itself be life-changing for the sheer relevance of having to stick with my family. Parting ways. Moving on is never an easy thing to do. Yet, it is always inevitable.

But why now?

Lost in Translation

Enough of the pestering quirk, that simple melodic lullaby turned into a hideous discordant sound of buses and trains. It became a malady in the midst of angelic glances; a perfidy along the road to Paradiso. And whose fault is the incursion of this malignant-like tumor of suppressed ignorance and bestial criticism?The hard-pressed wounds continue to linger down south the tropical savanna; forcefully making its turn to reach the peak of the un-molested Himalayas. Where art thou is the language of Aphrodite? Could less be it found, the irreversible motives and intentions lying beneath the inhospitable façade?

Err, what am I exactly doing?

I have been teaching for almost three weeks by now; I can't rub off my shoulders the eternally bogging question "Am I really doing this?" or better yet, "Am I destined to do this?".

The first question reveals a very obvious answer. I don't even need a pinch on my gradually darkening arms to bring me into a jolt toward reality. Yes I am teaching; and slowly, I am learning and unlearning century-old beliefs and guises of such. Here I have contended with previous facts and myths. Interestingly, some myths were truthful than the facts.

The second question is more of a pensive reflection than a wake-up call; funny though, it's actually giving me goosebumps. Who would have thought that something I really didn't like doing will be included in my roster of, err, relevant experience. For now though, this teaching vocation wasn't frustrating at all; well, neither it is fulfilling just yet. Yes, it's just a passing of time - a mere glide in a dense glob of snow. I don't even know if I'm gonna last. But when I see the faces of the students and check them in awe, I am always struck with a handful of question, "Did they get what I say?" or "Did I make sense?" or "Was I effective in trying to, o well, educate them (for whatever that means)".

Well, anyway, to say that this is my destiny is far too early. I am just like anyone else who, unfortunately, had to start it all over again. It is an imperative process for someone like me who's not born lording over whims and caprices. In fact, I was born with limited resources to even think of initiating a humanitarian mission. But, that seems to be in my heart. And they say, what's in you heart will flow on your hands. Superhero complex? Nah, I don't think so. Boredom? Hmm, perfectly suitable. But honestly, I don't know. And I am just taking each moment as an object of my affection.

A Preparation stage? Err, for what?

Write Even.

Write, even there is nothing to write about. Scribe, even when there is no impetus to. Stroke the pen, empty its ink. Or glide those fingers on the keyboard's surface. And see how the cursor blinks and how the white space is consumed by thin black lines and curves trying to paint a simple picture.

Write, to see how the mind works. How it unburdens itself with thoughts not so usual. Feel the movement of letters and words as they encapsulate a meaning. A meaning never originally meant nor intented.

Write, to move your world and present a case. Capture the transition of the moment. Express that instantaneous emotion unraveling within the marrow of your humanity. Grasp that subdued eternity imprinted by the mute workings of the synapses.

Write, and write freely as if there are no rules; no codes to interfere and block your liberty. For in writing, you create your own world. You paint your own picture. And you sensitize with your emotions and experiences that holds on to the sensibility of your meaningless and empty life.

A Month After.

Sitting in the center of an empty seat, I had passed upon my delinquent past. There it went blank. And it had to start over again somewhere else. The story must go on. It must begin exactly where I left it.

One month had passed, and I almost had a fair share of redemption. I had rested well enough to begin a new day, except that every other day should have been an opportunity to do just that. But I failed to grasp it. And now, I am sufferring the consequences of looking back and of casting all the moments I had let go. My outputs are very little; my pace, intermittently slow.

Perhaps, it was because I am working on a vitually structureless surface. No definite rules to abide. Few commands to take. I make my own rules. I have my own time.

Now I see freedom as a spectrum of opposites. Have a lesser degree of it, and I feel restricted. Perhaps, strangulated by a very thin piece of wire holding my breathe so strong for asphyxiation. And more of freedom, I feel inwardly sick. Sick of myself because the pressure had to build up eventually. And I had to live with it.

Two things are for me right now: get rid of voluminous sleeping and emancipate from the un-glory of procrastinating.

Sleeping can be a mode for defense mechanism. A serious manifestation of escape-escape from reality. It gives comfort, security even. And who would want to lose grip of that transitional but indeed intoxicating moment.

Procrastinating is a sickness. My very own lamentable excuse that I can. Testifying perhaps a degree of arrogance-a mischievous churning that I have things under controlled.

A week from now, I'd be teaching part-time in a school here in Palawan. The 3-hour teaching load will complement my full-time volunteer status as consultant for the youth ministry. I know I badly need that structure as a staunch disciplining measure. More so I had to abide not only my own rules, but more so to those that would launch professionalism to my structureless, spontaneous world.

Outburst

It's not about some petty, insignificant tantrum. Nor some irrelevant, pestering quirk. It's about having to contend with a feeling that I should have neither met nor encountered. Because I really don't know how to contain it.

Retrieval operations.

Along came typhoon milenyo, and a series of unfortunate events wreaked the already pitiable seven thousand plus island. Extreme religious groups would inhesitatingly see the panorama as a manifestation of the second coming. A vision ample enough to stir the impoverished conscience into a solitude of clemency. Militants would seek to this as an opportunity to add more insult to the already seriously thumped malacanang. Perhaps, even a sign from above that it really refused to give blessing to the incumbent two years ago. Ultimately, the damages done, which are natural in cause induced further by human inconsistencies, are friendly reminder that we never learn from history and that we always want to learn things the hard way. Now, we return back to retrieve ourselves only to fall on the same pit again. Nietszche could have been right to suppose this as an eternal recurrence. But isn't it more apt to call it an eternally recurring stupidity?

Loose Ends

Life gets filthy messed up. One time it’s on a losing end. Another it soars high across the infinite of possibilities. Like orgasms, you can’t fake it. You have to absolutely indulge in that fleeting moment – of metaphorical desires and cheap innuendos. And whatever it is that you take your chance on grab it like it’s yours. Your property. Your life. Because amidst the trade-offs and costs, the twists and the turns gyrate on your wishful hands.

Back In Puerto Princesa

A sudden impulse compelled me to write. Perhaps my mind has been in stored for so long, and it's passed overdue. My self-assumed craft has been collecting dusts and flies as a cobweb. I pity my self for losing the jolt to sit down, reflect, and put into papyrus the rhythms and waves of my indulgent persona.

I just got back here in Puerto Princesa last thursday. The 60-minute traverse along the densely cumulo-cirrus covered path was bland but never a bore. Maybe because I was traveling alone. Or perhaps the homo sapien seated right next to me is uninteresting. Poor little me, I had to content myself with a self-induced sleep, which failed, and ogle at wonders of the bright sky.

Pretty much true to my suppressed anticipation, the Chink fetched me. The Dad came as well, and oh boy! I felt like a royalty. Of course, that is very much undeserved. It felt great, by the way, to see them again. I felt somewhat relieved knowing that I will be dealing with very compassionate and intelligent people.

Yes, I went back here for work - some serious endeavor requiring me to use my wits and abilities to press for some improvement. Err, it's not actually a regular job that everyone would be dreaming to have. I am in fact hesitant to call it a job or work. Calling. That must fit in. But I have yet to channel what my heart contains to real product, tangible outputs.

In this place, I had found my purpose. It's too early though to say I have found my peace. But looking at everything that happened, I going here to work with the young people (younger than I, that is) and try to transform their lives by elevating the way they think and perceive things and to put my life in order as I accept Jesus and work on the spiritual plane, I must say I'm heading towards that status.

Still, there are so many issues I had to contend with. But amidst this, I had decided to finally go here and fulfill something, something that I owe to the generation next to me. Here, I have found my platform. And that platform is both my challenge and peace. And my conviction stays strong, I'll stay here and see a vision realized.

I believe

I believe in the power of prayers. Please help me pray for my mom. Just a short note would bring her an extra mile.

Just a Thought

Would you rather see me with another one, pretending that I am happy and complete, than let me stay with you, where I am most with myself but remain to be eternally clueless?

Sensible, Meaningful Conversation

It really makes you feel good when you would chance upon a conversation with people who are not only close to you but talk with utmost sensibilty.

But what is sensibility? Is it not a thing too subjective, perceived only in the mind of the perceiver? What I find sensible may not be sensible to other people. What they find sensible may not appear as such to me. To define talking sensibly by saying having a kind of conversation that is neither nonsensical nor unpretentious, would defy a basic law in definition. Do not define something by stating what it is not.

I really find it intruiging what makes a conversation sensible? Last friday, I met up with my good pals Lillen and Shiela at Figaro SM North. They were my high school buddies whom I haven't seen for the longest time. Then last saturday, I made it a point to meet Joyce at Starbuck Intramuros, my coffee buddy during college. So there, at two different occasions, I engaged into a kind of conversation I have long missed. And it was good to find out that they felt the same way.

On those two consecutive nights I have gone through different worlds. I have penetrated their personal lives, in the same way that they peeked on mine. We technically shared all our dreams, hopes and anxieties, accepting each statement without the liability of questions or criticisms. We have reached the shores of politics and philosophy in our quest to understand our circumstances, our worlds, which have basically evolved even though we were apart. We have glided along the cliff of our past, dug into the people who have influenced the way we think and mulled over those who have tried to destroy us. Those two nights were separate journeys that transcended the power and ability of the mind because it is the heart which spoke, and it did so with so much conviction and empathy.

This to me is an example of a sensible conversation. To say, however, that what other people may be talking about virtually anywhere: in corridors, in public transportations, in cafes most especially, on topics of their own filthy personal lives, of other people's lives (gossiping), or of what's new, hip and in, are void of substance, would make me guilty of arrogance.

What really bothered me to rant on sensible conversation is the present state of conversations nowadays in places like starbucks, figaro, seattle's or what have you. These coffee houses have evolved into symbol of status, power, and social class. Staying in one would reveal a sense of prestige and hierarchy because he/she could avail to sit down and satiate caffeinic urges at such an exorbitance. What happened with this evolution is that these coffee houses are at a brink of losing its own prestige as supposedly a venue for intellectual discourse on humanities, philosophy and virtually any topics under the sun that stimulates the intellect. I could only be hopeful that such European culture be brought here. But it seems it would only be a mere hope because now, they are being degraded into a place of sham, pretense and superficiality.

I do not claim to be one who always speaks with substance. But those two separate occasions of meeting my close buddies made me realize such state of present cafes alongside defining what sensible conversation is.

At the end of the day I was puzzled by two quite similar remarks. Lillen would tell me, "You guys really made me feel how it is to be me," and Joyce would say "I could just be myself when I am with you." That to me is a sensible, meaningful conversation.

Reading the Signs

And yet not a dream, but a mighty reality-a glimpse of higher life, broader possibilities of humanity, which is granted to the man who, amid the rush and roar of living, pauses four short years to learn what living means.
-W.E.B. DuBois

Lately, I have been seriously pondering about the turn out of events in my life. God is directing me towards serving Him through a youth organization that I helped taking care of last summer. Signs are vividly presenting themselves before me. And it's quite a stupidity if I relentlessly discount each one of them.

First, right after graduating, I never had a clear goal of what to do with my effing life. They were dynamically shifting from God knows what. I want to take a masteral degree without clearly knowing which field would I concentrate on. My thoughts range from taking political science to economics to foreign policy to organizational psychology to business administration. It went as far as pursuing back my childhood dream of going to medicine school and be a physician to pursuing the reason why I took political science as my major, to enter law school and become a feisty lawyer one day. But honestly, I was just left wanting and more confused. Of the many things I wanted to do and amidst knowing that I can commit myself to any of it, I failed to come up with one definite plan as regards my post-graduate education.

Second, a few days after going off from college, I tried on venturing into the corporate world. My degree was not my passport. It can never sounded so "corporate." My relatively good communication skills and command of the english language allowed me to pass the application process on a reputable business-processing organization (read: call center). That was early April. I could have started immediately and perhaps been earning profusely by now, but at that very decisive moment when I was asked to sign the six-month contract of selling my soul to the whims and caprices of the capitalist industry, I turned it down. I am very glad, I had the guts to do it. I believed with my credentials, thinking I deserve something more.

Third, at mid April, I was invited by my friend to attend and observe a summer youth camp that their group organized. Unhesitatingly, I said yes. Before awakening my senses to see if I wasn't dreaming, I was already riding on the ferry bound to Palawan. With what I saw there, I confirmed what in my classroom I learned only as a theory. There I have directly felt despondent realities.I realized, no amount of social theories, nor of political thoughts had actually revealed what I felt while standing on the actual scenario. There are so many things to be changed. And these won't take place in a wink of an eye. But at least, they've got to be started by transforming the youth. I have found myself in my friend's vision. Next thing I know, I was being transformed by it, slowly dedicating myself in such an advocacy never unfamiliar to me. I spent more than a month in Palawan, with the youth and the organization, sharing my ideas and thoughts on how the system might be improved and overhauled.

Fourth, after that crusade I went back to Manila to find out that my mom was ill again. She was hospitalized for almost a month, burning money skewedly proportional to its production. At that time when I thought I could be tendering a quite impressive resume to some reputable company, I was held back by mom's ailing condition. I have to become a full-time "physician" and a "nurse" rolled into one. I prepare food for her, bathe her, assist her everytime she needs to use the bathroom, accompany her during her check-up, and do several errands for her. But I never see those as a burden though, but rare moments and opportunities to spend with her to, at least, compensate the lost times. No amount of riches can certainly replaced those moments.

Fifth, my personal struggles concocted with that of my mom's, have drawn me closer to what once I called as a Supreme Being that promotes order in the universe. Now, that Being is my God. His son, Jesus, is my savior. Slowly, gradually, but surely I am knowing them. I am recognizing my spirituality and the need to share it with others. Proudly, I could say I am on my way to becoming a Christian-a real Christian-no pretense, no adulterated intentions. Right now, I am developing a habit of earnestly checking my motives. I want it always to be pure and real, impossible it is in a human perspective. But when it is done to turn back to God what belongs to him, I know it is possible.

These turn out of events have ingrained in me so much motivation not only to rethink the values that I hold on to but more importantly, to know what it is that makes me happy. Apparently, I found home in God. I found comfort in his purposes for me. I found myself wanting to become his instrument in transforming other peoples' lives, uplift their consciousness and inspire them, as I myself have been uplifted and inspired.

My Battle

What am I supposed to do with my feelings? Their killing me. I have gone through much pain thinking about the impossibility of things, on why am I so imperfect to fit? Why am I feeling things that I have not intended to? I never wanted this. But my mind falters against my heart. As if the latter has a mind of its own that my own mind cannot control. It is the heart that is seeing. But it is seeing perhaps what to my mind is the wrong one. My mind has its own set of reasons, the impossibility is what it sees vividly. Their battle is my own endless contention of what I am supposed to do. They confused me so much. But what can I do? I am left unaided with high caliber arms. I am soldier who's fighting in a battle totally unknown, in a battlefield so unfamiliar that the probability of losing is greater than that of winning. I am not sure if I can fight back with enough fervor. That is because I am not certain if it will yield me triumphant. But face with too much uncertainties, I know for a fact that I want to win this battle as much as I want to lose it.

Day 19: Cultivating Community

The world of tomorrow belongs to the person who has the vision today.

-Robert Schuller

My Master has called me to work in his vineyard. I have known it because it is my heart that has spoken. And it is where my Master usually converses with me. It is my Master and his will that my heart beats. He revealed to me an astute vision. A vision that I could not turn my back against because deep at the marrow of my humanity, it was what I really want to be doing, otherwise I would have not discovered them myself. My master wants to use my hands to plow the soil in his vineyard so that previously unexplored areas would be utilized. He encourages me to till it so that its fertility and richness may be tapped. He wants me to plant new and more seeds on them, watch them grow and nourish. He cautioned me though to become realistic: that I can never plow his entire field so I have to focus on that little part he has gladly offered to me. His is so vast that no human mind can ever grasp. Its richness though, exudes with so much grace. He told me that the little portion he has given me will never go unnoticed, because if I handle it with passion and commitment the seeds I planted will grow robust and healthy, which shall add to the vineyard's verdant greenery. And so I realized that little as it may, if the tiny seeds planted on a richly cultivated soil is well taken care of, healthy plants will sprung anew with a greater probability of producing new seeds, which when planted again will become equally productive, if not better. By then, I would have created a cycle, which can soar new beginnings and find new horzions. Only, the soil must be kept fertile and rich.

Day 18: Experiencing Life Together

Forgiveness is letting go of the past. Trust has to do with the future.

Relationships are vital to one's growth. I view them as opportunities for one to discover himself, to realize his potentials and to find out for himself how he would fare. Relationships, be it intimate or not, come and go. And when they leave, they always cast an indelible mark that shall be forever be etched in one's memory. Positive the outcome maybe or not, they retain lessons and perhaps lingering sentimentalities on what was felt. Relationships do evolve as well. Sometimes naturally, sometimes by forced. Some are kept to mature. Some are left as they are. Some are even instant. But no matter what kind they maybe, no matter how they were shared, there is always one common thing: shared life, or a shared portion of that life. Life, after all, is meant to be shared. Sometimes we choose people whom to share it with, temporarily or long term. More often, however, we never choose who would come or how they would come or how long would they stay. It is us who seems to be always trapped by our sentimentality, which force us to hold on even more, without realizing that it is only the memories which we are holding on to. We keep them in our hearts, in our minds. And once in a while we go back to them, sometimes we rebel on such thoughts, yet they continue to linger. The one day we would pick up the pieces where we left them off and move on and experience life but this time around with another because we concede to the fact that life is meant to be shared.

Day 17: A Place to Belong

I am called to belong, not just believe. Belonging, I think, is where beliefs can be practiced and be enhanced with other believers. For someone like me who's often than not, a loner and highly irrelational, it is a big challenge. Yet, I am gradually realizing the worth of belonging, of fellowship. Man is a social being. It is within a community that he either develops or shrinks. Both are however predicated by choice. One would realize his full potential, for example, when he thrived amidst a censorious crowd, but despite that he emerged as a victor. Likewise, an inhibited self is a result of a choice not to be bold enough to dare himself or be dared. Social or non-social, every one directly affects or is directly affected by the community. Again, it is a matter of choice which kind of community one would want to be included. Perhaps, it is within one's scope interests, beliefs and nuances. But for sure, the entity called community, will keep one from backsliding. Called it a benefit of inclusion or membership, but such a coterie can be a powerful medium for one's own transformation.

Day 16: What Matters Most

I have yet to muster the courage to write something about love, the thing that matters most. There's a lot of it wanting to break free from my senses, and letting it loose, is like allowing a small patch of hole in a dam grow magnified until it gets inevitably uncontainable. So for now, I have to keep it. I would have to censure myself from touching its delicate feathers. Someday, I'll let it fall, lightly and free until it touches the waiting bossom of the earth.

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Apparently, my 100th entry coincides with the topic on love. Sad, I can't force my not-so creative juices to write about it.

Day 15: Formed for God's Family

The second week of this journey revealed to me that it is my purpose to worship God. By worship, it refers to my willful submission and the process of aligning myself to his will. On the third week, I am called to become part of his family. This I think is essential because Jesus encouraged us to profess our faith publicly so that we may become a light to other men that they may see our good deeds and praise our Father in heaven. Hence, he has called me to partake in a spiritual family, certainly a call I never heeded before because of my limited view. A spiritual family, I believe, is more than a support system, for it shall serve as an inspiration in a personal quest to know God deeper, better. Fact of the matter is, this family, though termed spiritual, is not at all perfect. The formation of such a group is a human all-too-human endeavor that is bound to man's inherent flaws and idiosyncracies. Thus, it is expected to wave and perhaps falter occasionally. But being in such a family, with one common advocacy, relegates the spirit of wanting to be with God-a spirit that is perfectly contagious to those who have initially chosen to live by their faith. Another fact of the matter is, although God created us, only those who heeded to his call forms part of his family. It is by one's willful surrender and acceptance that he or she can know God but it is through becoming part of his family-his community of believers- that one eventually strengthen the union and make the bond permanent. This is the call to become part of a fellowship.

Day 14: When God Seems Distant

"The deepest level of worship is praising God in spite of pain, thanking God during a trial, trusting him completely when tempted, surredering while suffering, and loving him when he seems distant."

First, I believed in God. I choose to take my chance on waging for him. Then, slowly he is revealing my purpose: that is, to live my life for Him, according to his will, not mine. Afterwhich, he told me that I was planned for his pleasure and upon my recognition and acceptance, worship and develop friendship with him. At glance, that seemed logically easy. But when interjected with my own circumstances and my own plans, dreams and desires, an inevitable conflict ensues at large especially because those things tell me otherwise. I can choose to follow my own will, especially that he doesn't instantaneously reveal his particular plans for me. And I would always be left wanting, trying to decipher that and looking for signs. But of course, he would always tell me, the path towards him is and will never be easy. For I am required to undergo a series of challenges and an altitude of tasks. What's worst is at that point where I will have to be so down, he would seem to make me feel that he is at a distant, far away from me and just merely peeking on what I am doing. Of course, I would be deeply hurt, perhaps severely scarred that I may eventually turn my back against him. And just when I do so, He would be glad enough to insist, "It is not I who turn my back against you, my child. It was you who did that. I was just here and always am here for you." I would go back to Him, regretfully accept defeat and try to win Him back. I would successfully do so because of His love. But with it comes the realization that He didn't really leave me, he was just true to his nature as a liberal and democratic God, who has left me to my own devices and see how skillful I am in using those to turn despondent moments into the best ones. And true to his words from the beginning of time, he never left, abandoned nor forsaken me. He was with me all the time, and it was I who did not see Him and it was I, left with the faculty of choosing, who chose not to be with him because of my petty insecurities. This shall have to be my story. And most perhaps, if not everyone else's.

It was a test of faith.

Day 13: Worship That Pleases God

God wants all of you.

Existential philosophy was once my solace in finding or not finding meaning in this world, as I depart from what I have grown to perceived as shallow and pretentious public worship. During those times I retracted from increasing my faith by not going to church anymore and by drawing back from the rituals I have grown accustomed to. I used to believe that I still believe in God, but slowly I was diverting away thinking beyond good and evil and resting entirely on human capacities. Swear, it was very hard to digest. Until now, I am not quite sure if I have understood everything well. I shrinked to my solitary self, worshipping a God I created and I chose to believe and not to believe some times. Such worship, private and intimate is more revealing and intense than that one in a congregation. I believed such a flock is nothing more but a pretentious sham. They would venerate their God, try to please Him and to look sorrowful before Him. But once they think they already had his forgiveness, they are back to their own true selves-misgiving, disparaging and conceited. The whole process of worshipping him is totally pointless. That was the reason why I went out of church, little did I know that slowly I have also slipped away from his grasp. What I did not recognize is that whether worship is public or private, it does not really matter. What counts is the intent of the heart at that moment when one worship God. At that moment, he doesn't need an opinion about how others do their own, what he needs is the total submission of the self-that one be on focus solely upon Him. A pure and authentic worship I believe is that one that emanates from the innermost part of a being, accepting his frailty and weaknesses and His need of God. And it is also doctrinal, based on what is written in the Scriptures. Truly, it's both the heart and the head that works in worshipping God. But I still have to contend with traditions that have incessantly become a routine, pure in form but void of substance.

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A worship that pleases God is one which is authentic, hence intentional, the energy genuinely flows from one's spirit and is revealed by sincere emotion to connect with God's; is thoughtful, the mind is at work uttering the words forming phrases that are spontaneous yet true and overcoming sheer cliches; and is practical, it's about giving what one has and not what one can give when he becomes somebody, and it's about sacrifice which may be in forms of thanksgiving, praise, humility, repentance, offerings of money, prayer serving others, and sharing with those in need.

Day 12: Developing Your Friendship with God

My determined purpose is that I may know Him-that I may progessively become more deeply and intimately acquainted with Him, perceiving and recognizing and understanding the wonders of His person more strongly and more clearly. -St. Paul

Yesterday, I learned that through constant conversation in prayer and continual meditation, I could establish my relationship with God as my bestfriend. Today, I am faced with the challenge of knowing how it is to maintain such relationship. I had already resolved to get serious about this-to penetrate a world I have never been before but promises me peace of mind and unwavering company.

Achieving so many things as my earnest dream seemed to be delectable yet, they seemed to be empty enticement that only confused me. I have gained a lot of friends, but they have come and go. I believe this one is permanent and it is the only one I have to sustain. I perceive this as a small seed, which I have planted out of my own wanting to see it grow, nourish and flourish into a fine and exquisite creation. And in order to get things done, I have to submit into honesty, obedience, and unadulterated desire.

First, honesty would make me reveal myself to him completely-my good side and not-so good side. After all, this is what he wanted me to do, to exercise my 'human-ness'. Honesty is about being candid and frank about my thoughts and feelings. Often, I would have irrationalities and may blame him for my misfortunes but he would understand. And I will feel very sorry. He would acceptme back as if nothing happened. Honesty is about having to converse with him without the inhibitions of a toddler but still with reverence to a father.

Second, obedience shall be my way of developing my love for him. Out of love, and not because of obligation or guilt, I will earnestly follow his will as this manifest itself to me. Obedience furthermore is the transformation of my conversational friendship with God into actions, the way my relationship with Him must go on.

Lastly, an unadulterated desire to establish friendship with him would be my guiding light in wanting to know him more. I would crave for him to touch and enter my soul; yearn for him like in search for a lover's arm; hunger for him like I would for a BigMac and fries; and thirst of him like I would for a coke light.

Day 11: Becoming Bestfriends with God

God is a God never to be feared anymore as our ancestors did. God proved himself to be a loving God whose image is not that of a totalitarian or dictator. Throughout time, he has revealed himself capable of going down from his pedestal in order to win his people. He could have chosen not to do it because he is God. But out of love and in love, He did this unhesitatingly. Its outright manifestation is the deliverance we gained because He sent Jesus to redeem us. True enough, God has been becoming more of a personal God. This is treating Him with the a respect of a comrade and with a love of a sweetheart. Intimacy perhaps is a more befitting word to describe this kind of ideational relationship with God. And for that intimacy to grow and bloom into its fullest potential, becoming bestfriends with God is an inner voice that must not be turned down nor neglected. To this, I think I am responding quite well. Lately, I've found myself serious in prayer and meditation. It is through prayer that I have an open conversation with God. It is my spending time with him, where I utter thanksgiving and ask him for wisdom and strength to face each day's daunting challenges. And it is through meditation that God speaks to me in response. His words are revealing a good deal of great things that I myself has become overwhelmed. I am amazed at the interconnections of His word vis-a-vis my own experiences. They are slowly making sense to me. Gradually, I believe things are getting aligned. This I always say. But this I say because I am slowly learning to live by my faith, which requires me to establish a friendship with God. Of course, I still have to learn a great amount of things towards this quite seemingly impossible path that I am choosing. It's not an easy path, but I've got nothing to lose.

Day 10: The Heart of Worship

The heart of worship is surrender.

I am beginning to love the word surrender. Don't get me wrong, I don't have any masochistic tendencies and I don't intend to have one. I am a sadist, to confess. Well, at least, so far. I find it conventional to think about surrender as having negative implications. Beyond such sheer conventionality, the word "surrender" can be turned to encapsulate a winning streak especially when it is willfully done in honor of someone or something, such a high cause that can stir fulfillment to the desires of the human soul-the inner unadulturated self.

Surrendering to God in love is indicative of surrender as a winning streak. Of course, I have to emphasize that such willful surrender is always accompanied by the First Premise: believing in God. The purpose of surrendering goes parallel with the purpose of pleasing him. And God seems to be pleased by exercising 'human-ness' and through the act of worship. It is with the former that we live up to the reason of why we are created and it is with the latter that we establish and strengthen our connection with him as our Father.

Worship, however, is not just a mere utterance of songs and praises to glorify him. Worship, I believe is more of an admission of our limitations as human, thus, a fortification of the word surrender. It is an acceptance that we can not be like God whose infinity and being we can never ever surmise. After all, all human attempts to do so ended futile as human history is suggestive of it. To surrender also means to give up one's entire self to be aligned with God's purposes. This volitional surrender is of course founded on faith, strengthened on trust, and demonstrated by obedience.

Lastly, surrender means paving the way and pinning down what God wants us to become even if entails going against the current. Surrender is never losing, but winning the heart of God. And by far, it is the purest, unadulterated account of worship.

Day 09: What Makes God Smile?

"I don't want your sacrifices-I want your love;
I dont' want your offerings, I want you to know me."

Having pondered that it is one's purpose to bring pleasure to God, it follows then that it is manifested by making God smile. A smile is a manifestation of sheer joy. It means that one has done something that pleased the other. Making someone smile is not a very easy task though, since one has to consider what makes a person smile. It involves clear attention to details. Perhaps it may even involve unquestionable intentions to do so. I was caught dumbfounded several times by the lines quoted above.It spoke to the innermost portion of my being and I swear, I could almost hear him uttering those lines very passionately. The intensity of the pitch is perturbing my soul. More than ornate sacifices, more than gaudy offerings what he wanted from me is to embrace him as he is without turning away from my human-ness. This human-ness refers to my capacity to love, trust, obey and use my abilities as opposed to giving in to the pretensions that the existing world has been trying to lure me. Such human capacities are my ticket to establish a relationship with him. And this relationship furthers my being and becoming, magnetizes my soul towards him, and magnifies my intentions to bring honor and pleasure to him. Eventually God would have to smile, because amidst my imperfections, I exercise my human-ness and accept my weaknesses to get connected to him.

Day 08: Planned for God's Pleasure

I was created for a purpose. I am planned for God's pleasure. And it is my purpose to bring enjoyment to him and live for his pleasure. The first premise for these beliefs is that I choose to believe in God. Life is so much about surrendering to the things that we utterly believe in. Consequently, those things are the sources of our worth. A business mogul, for example, would live all his life improving his monetary empire because he feels it is where he finds his value. Likewise, an experienced scientist would try countless experiments and risk numerous discoveries because it's where his significance emanates. They took for themselves the obligation to enhance further their capacities in order to find their worth in this world. But no matter how great or small their contributions may be, I believe every one is inherently valuable. It is up to one, however, to yield to that impeccable belief. Our inherent value rests on the fact that we are created out of our Creator's magnificent love. And it is but just right to return the favor, such love, by seeking the things that brings him pleasure. Perhaps, a simple of act of worship would make us true to this call.

Day 07: The Reason for Everything

Anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life,
but if you let it go.. you'll have it forever, real and eternal
John 12:25

He is giving me so many reasons to believe. Beyond sheer reasoning and human understanding, I bequeath that is all for Him-for His Glory. As I accept Him back in my life, like a lost sheep going back to his Master, every single thing is gradually making sense. Bit by bit, each reveals its own purpose seemingly aligned to a larger, cosmic one. I may not be able to fathom them right now but I know time will reveal them manifestly.

Not so long ago, I was too caught up with my on world, too jaded seeking my own truth. I was driven to excel and to amass things that lure my senses. But even without Him, I have always convinced myself not to put everything into my head. In fact, I hated the system I thrived. I repulsed it. I didn't want to be consumed by it. Rationalization has been my defense; God was a mere concept that puts order in the universe. He wasn't my personal God back then.

But in a span of a month outside what I used to think as my comfort zone, I opened my eyes. There, I saw the reasons I have been looking for. Certainly, this process of alignment will lead me towards living my life for His glory, under His unending grace. And I am more than willing to stand up for the challenge.

--

It was only today that I have felt a meaningful connection with Gibson's Passion of The Christ. Never did I imagine before that such a linkage between the faculties of man and a media production could be so intensely powerful and revealing. Perhaps, before, I've just seen it as a mere depiction of Christ's sufferings captured in film for critical viewing purposes. But such vivid a portrayal bared so much depth that reasons cannot assume to encapsulate. The picture spoke straightly to the heart, perhaps to one's spirituality. Every strike of the lances and spears that ran deeply to Jesus' skin and flesh is a manifestation of a love so pure and so real. And in every jolt I had, upon seeing it, I couldn't help but appreciate more such ultimate sacrifice. It was my emotion that is seeing and connecting. It was my humanity speaking before God, saying how thankful I am to have met Him again. It was I who changed my mind before; it was I who has the capacity to change it back again. And this time, I won't make His ultimate sacrifice go into waste down the drain.

--

And so I pray,
Jesus, I believe in you and I receive you.

Day 06: Life is a Temporary Assignment

All that is not eternal is eternally useless.
-C.S. Lewis

Life is a big jigsaw puzzle. I have to assemble each pieces, otherwise they won't make sense. I have to painstakingly connect one part to its pair in order to capture the bigger picture. With a little of luck, I might assemble a portion in a very short time. But of course, there would be instances when I have to remove what is already assembled since they were not really meant to be paired together. These are moments when I thought I have already emerged triumphant in my quest to solve it, only to find out later on that there were some mistakes; sometimes fatal, sometimes not. There are points when others would assist me. But they would never last long. They would come and leave, just like the seasons in a year. At the end of the day, I would find myself alone, putting the jigsaw pieces together. In solving the puzzle, I certainly have my own upturns and downturns, even moments of heralded and missed opportunities. But only those pieces properly fitted would count. The process is not unilinear. In fact, it is hazy; I am always left alone to my devices in order to figure it out. And when I am almost done with it, I was finally told to leave it behind. If only I have known it, I would’ve not focused alone on matching the jigsaw pieces together but on catching each particular emotion I had every time I am able to finish a portion, on how each relationship felt every time some one would assist me, and on the joy of taking my time in deciphering the puzzle-those things that I could carry one with me.

Day 05: Seeing Life from God's View

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.
-Anais Nin

Often I wonder, what is life with God? What is it like to be in heaven? Those who had passed away, I imagine them in heaven, with all the angels and saints. They're singing melodic hymns of worship and praise. They're eternally at bliss never worrying what tomorrow shall bring. They've reached the finest hours of their life. They've reached nirvana and there's no turning back. It's like an eternal climactic point, no falling action and no resolution. It's endured finality. And every time it reaches my mind, I can't help but think about death. Seriously! But I realized wouldn't that kind of life be totally boring? I mean, souls alike would just be doing the same things over and over again. I guess I have overlooked something: that God is a timeless and spaceless God.

The way I think and reason out is not the way how God's mind operates. His is far more superior that I cannot imagine how it works. I cannot oversimplify things. What I imagine to be heaven may not be the real heaven at all. I know it's always better. And there's no way I could understand it right now.

In the same way, the manner I look at my life right now and the circumstances I'm in is not parallel with how God views it. I see it negatively; He sees it as positive. I feel I was abandoned and forsaken; He wants to make me feel that He's with me all the time. I feel I am betrayed; He is telling me He loves me. My points of view are always contradictions of His'. And unless I realized those, I would never ever align myself to Him. Unless I see that life as a test and a trust and that I am continuously being pressed for my enrichment, I would never understand my circumstances and would never see His magnificent plan for me.

Day 04: Made To Last Forever

Surely God would have not created such a being as man to exist only for a day!
No, no, man was made for immortality.
-Abraham Lincoln

The existence of God, the existence of human freedom, and the existence of the afterlife presuppose the possibility of ethics. These elements are the necessary pre-conditions, the conditio sine qua non, without which ethics would seize to exist.

Ethics, being focused on the morality of human acts, necessitates first the subsistence of God, of a Higher Being, who is the only Arbiter. God therefore is the Final Judge, solely responsible in dispensing justice as to the moral repercussions of man's action.

Another element, human freedom, rests on man's ability to choose for himself what action to do amidst diversified choices and circumstances. Without this ability, man could not be held responsible for his actions because he would have merely acted upon some programmed commands.

It is in the afterlife where man is later on judged by God. It is where retribution or redemption is served. And without the immortality of the soul, the Arbiter could not decide upon the manner how man's freedom is exercised during his earthly life. And the logical connection is complete: faith in God necessitates the belief in the afterlife-that man is made to last forever.

My problem however is that given it is that I believe in God, that I'm on my way to spiritual recovery, would I let the promise of eternity be the driving force of my life? Must I do something good and righteous because I believe that God has something better in stored for me after this life?

I believe otherwise. I have faith in God because He is my God, not 'primarily' because He has a bag of promises. I served Him and His purposes because I know it is what I'm made for, not because I would be getting something in return.

Day 03: What Drives your Life?

The man without a purpose is like a sheep without a rudder - a waif, a nothing, a no man.
-Thomas Carlyle

Guilt. I am a captive of my past, imprisoned in a self-imposed cauldron of regrets and shame. They stuck on my memory. And I have grown accustomed playing them back on my head over and over. They have already emaciated me to the point of immunity.

Resentment & Anger. I have hold on to several grudges. Entertaining them has become some sort of a recreational activity. I resent my circumstances. I resent the fact that I cannot grasp everything. And it was I who’s often deeply cut, wandering in the unbearable.

Fear. I have stayed long overdue between the walls of my cot. I have always wanted to break-free. Yet, apprehensions, fear of the unknown and numerous anxieties were my appetizers. And I have indulged in them so much that I became afraid to venture out.

Materialism. I have carefully plotted my path towards limitless accumulation of material wealth. I believed there is happiness in it. I end up living beyond my means of subsistence, all because I mistook net worth as equivalent with self-worth.

Need for Approval. I have always valued other’s opinion to the point of compromising my own. Meeting my own anticipated expectations of others toward me has controlled my becoming. I have lost myself; my own conception of who I am has become distinctively blurred.

Denied by the First Premise, I thrived on the wrong purposes. With misaligned priorities and motivations, I have lost the vigor of living life and of being one with life. But the wonder of living is not so much on what I have gone through in the past and where I am right now. It lies on its inherent capacity to be changed and redirected—perhaps an automatic debugging device that checks for error, and corrects it later on; an auto-immune mechanism that repairs wounded tissues and estranged scars.

Day 02: You Are Not an Accident

God doesn't play dice
-Albert Einstein

My reflexes shudders in disbelief. The dictionary defines accident as "anything occurring unexpectedly, or without known cause." It adds further, "anything that happens by chance; fortune or misfortune." To say that I am not an accident therefore is to dig into the opposite of accident--that is something occurring intentionally and planned. Isn't it quite odd that I am here on earth with circumstances I never chose yet I'm still no accident? If I wasn't an accident, then how come I never took part in the planning? How come I never exercise any liberty to choose whether I should be here or what kind of life I should have been living? That could've perfectly made sense. But here I am struggling with most of my circumstances-personality, background and physique. Then I recall, it was not about me. It was about Him. And this is the only premise to start from. I am no accident because I was part of a cosmic purpose, "conceived in His mind even before I was born." Thus, there must be a reason why I am here. I must have a sense of purpose. And it made sense. My struggles are part of my formation. They're stretching me and pushing me to my limits because it is the only way that I can come out of my shelf and become the person He intends me to be.

Day 01: It All Starts with God

The Beginning of My Spiritual Journey
Inspired by the bestselling Purpose Driven Live

Unless you assume a God, the question of life's purpose is meaningless
-Bertrand Russel, atheist

It's not about me. It's about God. It's about living my life according to what He wants it to be. And I surrender to His larger, cosmic purpose.

For the past years, I have been looking, searching for the reasons why I exist? what is my purpose here? Logic tells me to defy a Higher Being that guides the objects in the universe because I believe in human capacity and free will. Predetermined by a God, man is reduced into a mere mechanical object, destined to surrender on the whims and caprices of a mighty Being. Thus, becoming homo ex machina.

And my efforts to search for the truth, for the supremacy of man were all futile. Reasons were all empty. It was like satiating an abyss, discovering the undiscoverable. Empty. Meaningless. It led me to defy things just for the mere sake of defying them. It encouraged me to take up on a stand to prove that I've got power over my will and to show that I don't bend. For me it's character. And character assassination it has often become.

When I question and doubt almost everything, I doubt more than I believe, leaving each bits and pieces of questions unanswered. And all I entangled myself with is a complex web of unending deceptions. A vicious cycle of making myself believe that I am getting the most out of it. Truth is, I never did.

Reason does not suffice another. It never ends. The only thing I got is a diversion away from the main question without knowing why and how.

Understanding the world, understanding reality, and understanding my circumstances were all focused on one single thing: me, myself and I. Alone. It was a centering principle projected on the “I”. Why me? Why am I here? Why these situations? Why not another circumstance? It was about forming the “I” based on what it perceived as shallow, mindless truths. It was about capturing the “I” in a selfish, conceited way.

Circumstances led me to de-center the “I”. To look for things beyond the center is to see the world in a bigger picture. To sensitize with the surrounding planes and images is to deconstruct the “I”. There, I immediately recognized that I am part of a social reality and a parcel of a cosmic one. De-centering the I also led me to accept the underlying truth that I am inherently weak and imperfect; that I cannot grasp and understand the world much as I want to. And there I began to see things I did not see before. I believed. I took chances on having faith.

And it was real. It was not about me. It was about Him.

--

“i was fuckin so crazy about him and i can't explain it
we were together for a about a year but he likes to got to the club
and i realized it’s not what i want
i just wanna be with somebody who just only wants to be with me
we don’t need to see other people
i just wanna be with somebody whom i can talk with and tell things i never told anybody”
-heard it from somewhere I couldn’t remember. last line’s a complete jitter.

I am happy. Heck, No! I am elated.

Since yesterday after I left home to do errands for my mom, I couldn't contain the joy that has overrode my senses. Prior to that, I have been sulking at my misfortunes, thinking deeply. Never did I imagine, even once, that I will experience them. Good thing this moment of gloom turned into a moment of bliss. And there are quite a number of reasons for this.

---

The first one is a realization that my tendency to problematize problems and mope over life's seemingly unending miseries made me overlooked the bright things in life. I was too fixated contemplating on what I do not have that I totally forgot those that I have. Maybe because of discontent. Maybe because I believe I deserve something more. Now, I have dug a hole that says, "looking on the bright side doesn't mean evading the not-so bright side, it simply means counting those blessings, those simple fortunes that elicit hope, inspiration and joy." After all, life is a juxtaposition of opposites, I have to see both sides and have to choose that side which is bearable, un-hurting, and detoxifying (read: de-stressing).

So I made a random list of those blessing I have right now:
1. My parents. I have my dad who has been sacrificing a lot and my mom who's sick but is fighting and now recovering.
2. BBear who is constantly keeping me company, sharing a lot of things and seeing me grow into the person I can become.
3. My college pals who constantly stick with me and remind me that they're there for me. I sms-ed them two nights ago and I was amazed at the responses. It was overwhelming that they care.
4. My pals and acquaintances at the ministry who were very accommodating and unquestioning. They were very good at inspiring me to revive my spiritual life.

Surprisingly, the list made me realize another thing: that I have been investing on people and on building relationships. I think this is crucial because once I made a very good and stable foundation, I know they would stay with me for the rest of my life. Only I have to sustain them.

---

Another reason happened last night, during the midweek service in the ministry, where I was asked by a pastor to share a testimony of faith. I knew it was coming. He was looking at the crowd and was trying to catch my eyes. I was evading at first. Talk about timidity. But he couldn't help it. And when I finally looked at him, he called for my name. And left with no choice, I stood up, proceeded before the crowd and marked a career in public speaking.

The audience was few, mostly youth. They sang before me a "happy birthday" thingy before I was able to share a testimony of faith. Of course, it was about my mom. I told them she was hospitalized for three weeks and how I personally took care of her for two weeks, tending her needs. I shared how difficult and unbearable the situation could have been: mentally, emotionally, financially, and physically even. Yet, I surrendered everything to Him, let His will take its course, did my share-that which is within my capacity, and took a leap of faith. Fortunately, with His grace, she is now recovering and we were able to pass a phase of this challenge as a family.

The experience is so exhilarating that I wasn't able to contain myself and sms-ed my pals back in Palawan. I got the same responses from virtually all. They were saying they were proud of me: the chief pastor and his wife, my colleague at work and the youth I served.

And knowing that these people care and that they count everyone accepted made me feel at home. More so, they are speaking without speaking that He is real, creatively working things out for His children. I guess, I have hit two birds with one stone at this. Not only did I find a place where I can belong, I also found Him in the midst of my adversities.

---

When people at church that were already close to me and the not-so started to and kept on greeting me happy birthday, it reverberated on my ears and struck me, it was really my birthday. And there is no better way to celebrate it than accepting my life, that I am living, and now, living with the One. When I accepted that I am human, weak and frailty, and that I cannot have a full grasp of the inquiries I have because someOne is already and has been doing it for me, truly, it made things less burdensome. The revival of my spirituality coinciding with my birthday speaks of a living proof that I am making the right choice: that is, the path towards spiritual recovery.

Coincidentally, two church people gave me the same message. It says: "For I know that plans that I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Now, I can't wait to have those plans laid down. I can't just while my time away. I knew I have to act as well because faith without action is futile.

---

Oh by the way, while I was trying to capture my sleep, a lot of people sms-ed me, greeting me a happy birthday. Most of them were from the list I just made. Of course, I expect some other close friends to greet me, but I wouldn't mind if they don't. I really don't believe in birthdays based on ageing after all. Not that I am afraid to add a year on my socially constructed years of living here on earth. It's just that I find it perverted when people base their capacity to do and achieve things on age.

Where shall I begin my story?

Where shall I begin my story?

It's five minutes past six in the evening. And there are a lot of things that plays recurrently on my mind. Pass on heavy reflections. Go beyond emotional crashing. I haven't blogged for ages and I can sense my fingers are hungry to devour on the keyboard and feast on that cursor blinking before my eyes.

But where shall I begin my story? The past days kept on lingering in my mind, as if urging me to capture them and relive them in my memory.

---

Shall I begin it with the day I left for Palawan two months ago? Why not? That afternoon I first set foot on the island is still vivid on my memory as clear as the blue palette penetrating the sky that same day. I went there to attend a summer youth camp organized by a friend.

Who would have thought that I would stay there to do volunteer jobs for the youth? Not to mention it was a youth ministry (read: church ministry). And knowing how censorious I am regarding religion, religiosity and the concept of God, I could have backed off initially.

After spending my first week at a generally successful summer youth camp, I can hardly imagine how I was able to live each week day waking up in the morning just to go to church and going back home late in the evening. More is it unimaginable of me waking up first thing in Sunday mornings just to attend three church services. It was hectic. Each day I am in church. Each moment I spend with church people. They apply their devotion and faith. I profess ideas, concepts and theories.

I admit though that it was a turning point in my life-a sudden and unexpected shift of trajectory. I was caught off guard at first because I was adamantly fixated with the beliefs I have been adhering to for quite some time now. I was rigid and unyielding. But as each day passed, and in each moment I bumped into, I encountered God. It was inevitable. And I know I made the right choice.

As I looked below from the plane's window a month and two weeks after, I just concede that Palawan gave me perspective. I have seen pictures bigger than what I am used to. That there's more to life than yielding into the visible world and its caprices. That there's more to life than proving one's self worthy of recognition by the majority. Beyond that, it is still the invisible and the selfless, defiant deeds that shall matter in the end.

---

Or shall I begin it with the day I set my foot back in Manila? And how grave I suffered from separation anxiety and emotional crashing that day? One reason is that I had a hard time saying goodbye to people I had established relationship with. It was short. Nonetheless, meaningful. It's really hard to re-focus once again. Another is that going back home knowing that my mom's in the hospital is really something debilitating to the spirit.

I have spent my time with my mom for the last three weeks in the hospital. The first week, I just visit her everyday because we got a helper to accompany her. And I spent each night with her for two weeks tending her needs.

I can recall two incidences which brought me into tears and agony while taking care of her. One was when she asked me "Jan, punasan mo naman ako o" (Jan, please have me sponged) in a very little voice, as if I was then only one in control. It was there that I felt I was her body: her hands and feet. It was sweet and loving, but it can be stressful and dislodging as well.

I can only sense how she is feeling in each moment she feels hopeless and helpless. And it hurts me bad. Scars me deep. For I never find the right words to say that it is totally okay with me doing these things for her. That even though sometimes I need to rest and start to flare up, I always concede and do the things I needed to. Because I know I owe it to her, in fact even more. Because I love her.

Another one was when we were having a small talk, and she blurted out "gusto ko na nga rin magpahinga eh, pagod na rin ako. Kaya nyo naman na. malalaki na kayo" (I already want to rest, I'm tired already. You're big enough to take care of yourselves." It is during this moment that I already conceded that inasmuch as I want her to live, let His' will take control.

---

Or shall I begin it today, the day after she was relieved from the hospital? And how I was able to rest and think deeper about the stretching situations I have set myself in (or: myself have been set in) for the past months?

My dad called me early this morning and we had this little argument about our decision to let my tita take care of my mom in Cavite temporarily while I am attending some errands. He was frantic about my tita getting infuriated and digging into the past feuds and misfortunes. He was also dramatic and weary. Maybe about mom's condition. Maybe about my siblings' education. Perhaps our unstable financial situation.

And I couldn't help but understand him. In as much as I do not know what to do with my mom, he doesn't know much more. Her illness has been a burden not only to her but the family as well. And it was a burden that we have to tender to as much as we can and have it surrendered to His able will.

I really am in a crossroad of my life. It is a juncture between choosing to make my life right now, as what the rest of my batch is doing, or have it spent instead with my mom. Should I work or should I take care of my mom? The former speaks of me getting into the rat race, immersing into the "real" world to prove that I deserve the laurels I have got. The latter rests mysterious for I do not know until when it shall take me. Nonetheless, it shall be a selfless act that for sure I would never regret for the rest of my life.

---

I must've known by now where to begin my story. And it's certainly not from where I left it off few months ago. But from a new morning with a new hope that another day shall pass and pass again and I shall never be burdened because I already surrendered them to Him and took faith in His unending Grace.

One sultry, windy night.

A month after, and I am still here somewhere down south. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I didn't get to miss Manila. I didn't have to anyway. What I miss most is having to write my thoughts directly on my blog. Swear, the internet connection can get really, err, primitive. I am hoping one day, I could just post all the stuffs I scribbled on a little journal note I am keeping since I arrived here.

After a long while, I finally had a chance to have my recollected thoughts printed on the vga screen. I couldn't help but look back on the modest stuffs I have written while pensively listening to meandering voices during that one sultry, windy night.

---

Ten More Years

ranting?
is that some kind of
a defense mechanism
-making yourself believe
that you have some purpose?

365x10
whining?
or just deciphering the
enigma, a rewarding life has been?
or acting upon each day
accordingly, like it is the very last?
or merely looking back-
reflecting upon the past's
bittersweet memories?

the juncture:
that crosscroad,
where shall it lead you?
or must you direct it?
the manifest can never be
more than what it could be

guided by a Higher Reason,
or a self-proclaimed vendetta
ten more years
and it could never be more
than real

---

Ode to Melatonin

How I crave for you
every sleepless night,
such a painful languor
of keeping the eyes
wide open in the dark

You, the one that is
gone and nowhere
to be found: I have no
effing idea where you are

Why did you leave me?
Alone. in a blackhole,
savoring melancholy
sweetly in the comforts
of my midnight gloom?

Where are you when
I so long have wanted you
to dominate my being-
supposedly overpowering
absence of light

Wrap your tender arms
around me-around such
frail, languid body
eternally seeking your
pristine touches

---

The concept of God bridges the chasm between man and his failure to answer multitude inquiries on life. God starts to fill in the gap because man already surrenders that he can no longer have them answered. Man has failed to use his utmost potentialities, reduced and belittled himself a mere mechanistic element of someone else.

---

May 30, 2006 that one sultry, windy night.

Those Pretty Eyes.

Your eyes mirrored my soul. As I observe those pretty eyes in the middle of the scorching summer night, they reflected back your past—your history—totally unfamiliar to me. There is sadness looming but I can see strength. Moistened and glistening, they spoke to me with calmness and concord. They anointed me with such tranquility, such moment of peace I have never imagined I would ever chance upon. Those small, round eyes eased away my pain. I urged you to look at mine and rest your worries upon them. I held your hands tight as I glued my eyes on you to tell you that you can fall on me. And as you closed them, as you put yourself into a sweet, deep slumber, I can’t help but wish for this moment to last in eternity.
__

And I held you tight in my arms, like this moment would never happen again. You were deeply asleep as I watched you intently in the wake of the night. Like a soldier faithfully guarding his post, I stayed awake to see that you’re protected—comforted against the unbearable heat. More so, I wanted to make you feel that you can rest on me the moment the world turn against you. I could be your shelter-your least expected haven in the midst of life’s unending miseries. My arms remain open to hold you tight-to embrace your unbearable lightness.
__

Teach me, however, to trust in you—to muster the tenacity to reveal myself to you without doubt, without distinction. Inspire me by staring back upon my eyes; provoke me by holding me tight in your arms. And together we shall fly on a new horizon in sweet serenity.

Movie with My Girlfriends, Dry Cough and an Odd Thing.

Had a chance to go out and spend time with my high school girlfriends (Zaima, Muriel and Theresa) after quite a long time of not seeing each other. We went out to see JustFriends. I admit I missed them bad. It was weird because they were very quiet, even more than I am. So we end up saying casual hello and asking about some people we used to hangout with in the past and what each of us is up to.

Zaima would later apologize about her being silent because it felt awkward when suddenly after almost four years of not spending time together every one begins to show up again. I can’t help but wonder and instead put myself on her perspective. And though I tried hard to elicit a good conversation and transformed back to my jovial personality, I still failed.

I realized how long 4 years was and how drastic the changes were that made us felt like we’re total strangers to each other. It was as if we’re starting on a blank slate. We were suddenly disconnected from the ten years we spent our lives together.

I end up looking at time and maturity as factors why suddenly there was apprehension-a seemingly formed wall that barricaded us. Four years of separation denied us to spend quality times together like we used to. In that span of time we have formed our own individual niche, built different goals, and thrived on divergent paths. Alongside with time, we are close to getting mature as vested by the complications of life we have gone through individually. Dealing with varying struggles and problems-far complicated during our fledgling years-protracted even more those four years. Maturity took us away from seeing the world as playground, where we frolic around freely without guilt or worry of what tomorrow shall bring.

Nonetheless, there was some thing to start from again. We could always go back to those years we’ve spent together as a common ground.

____

For four nights now, I have been suffering from severe dry cough, colds and headache. Each hurts so badly that I fear of falling asleep. Although it is the mind that controls the bodily functions, commands each organ what to do, it is not at all omnipotent. Each organ can rebel against the mind; matter can sometimes overpower it. And when it happens, the mind would recognize no other sensation but pain-debilitating, hurting and consuming.

____

There is some odd thing that clandestinely creeps under my skin right now. And I don’t like it. I have a weird feeling that I have been evading from this thing from the very beginning. Perhaps, I was. And if so, it’s because I don’t have any other choice but to succumb to such reservation. I know that it’s not right and the probability of it turning into reality is meager. Yet, like the angel of the darkness, it lures me with beautiful but empty promises. So empty that it tempts me to fall even more.

Epitome of Self-Destruction-Intoxication with Nicotine, Alcohol and Others.

I came rushing down toward the nearest 24-hour convenience store located two blocs away from my flat. I was thrilled but nervous at the same time because I was to buy a pack of cigarette for the very first time for my consumption. Upon arrival, I pushed the heavy door open and proceeded at the counter. There were a few people in sight; lest, I didn’t care. I gazed at the cashier and ordered for a pack of Dunhill Lights and a lighter. I was very relaxed as I hand over my payment; she punched the bill and hand over my change. I smiled at her and left immediately.

That was an instant transformation for me, as if I was already a pro. Prior to this, I hate smokers. I despised smoking. So ‘first timer’ that I am, buying some lights is ultimately a taboo, a very awkward situation where I have to muster a lot of courage. I had formed the guts to try this because I was spending the night alone. I thought a pack of lights would do the trick for a pseudo-company even just for a night.

Few minutes ago, my mom and sisters left for the province to spend the holy week and take a vacation. I never intended to go with them. I was more concerned with other things such as spending some time with myself and savoring some amount of freedom that I so long craved for. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with my family especially with my mom. It’s just that the thought of going to the province bores me to death. Besides, as of this moment, I am caught absorbed resolving the dilemma over work and post-graduate studies.

As I went back home, I realized that a pack of Dunhill wouldn’t be enough. There must be some fluid to quench my thirst; moisten my dry throat. So without hesitation, I went to the sari-sari store to buy six bottles of San Miguel Beer Light and some chips to match.

I was eager, dead eager, to start my ‘spending time with myself alone’ project so I went home in a rush. But I realized that six bottles were insufficient; I decided to go back to the store for four more. The night as it went deeper became more exciting for this little devilish adventure of mine.

Nicotine, alcohol and I began to transfuse and overlap along with the unobservable transition of time. Gently, I drank each bottle as if it was my first and last; I puffed a stick as if the sun would never rise. Gradually, I can sense both nicotine and alcohol drenching my body, confusing my senses, flying me into a state of oblivion.

It was the state of being unconscious with peace of mind that made me oblivious. Yet, I was aware, fully aware, of the all the things that bother me substantially. It was about my life–as I relate with my family, as I try to make sense of it and as I chart, shape it according to my dreams. It was about problematizing the issues that either I am about to face or have been evading from ever since.

It was disappointing that after five beers and two cigar sticks, I was ready to quit. My corporal system was already deluged, ready to command me to stop. It was my intention to pass out completely, yet my tolerance for these intoxicating substances were not well established. My imbalanced emotional state could have added to such intolerance.

Curiosity and confusion provoked me to try intoxication as an escape and as a pseudo-company to fill my being alone (though I wasn’t lonely). I was curious to try how it felt to be intoxicated; to test if this kind of coping mechanism would work for me. It is a new horizon comparable to the moment Columbus landed on the New World.

Confused, what concerned me is the dilemma of why despite I wanted to be with myself alone, I am feeling the need of wanting to be with some one. I failed to dig the center of this.

Confused, different issues overrode my finite senses.

Earlier this morning, I was at the face of deciphering how to improve my relationship with my mom. I want her to release her burden to me. I want to make her my confidant, in the same manner that I could be hers. I want our relationship to be more open, compassionate and comradely. It pains me every time I see her struggle; it kills me seeing her being inhumanly corrupted by her illness.

I would also want to see my relationship with my dad grow. I haven’t seen him for quite some time now (for four straight years); I am very much bothered with patching things up with him. There’s neither tension nor rage, I just want to delineate well a father-son relationship. I admit though that lately, I am becoming more distrustful of him due to broken promises, failed expectations and mishandling of resources. This prompts me to become less dependent on him.

I love my parents. I have been trying to. Though the several academic achievements I have been gracing them cannot compensate the burdens I have caused.

I am very much bothered on how will I handle my life and what I intend to do with it. There are a handful of things that I dreamt of accomplishing. Other than establishing a reputable career, I want to finish multiple post-graduate degrees. I felt I am running out of time and have to act the soonest. Problem, however, is, I don’t want to be usurped and fixated yet by the existing system.

It took me until past midnight to revolve around each issue. What I only did is to entertain them, accept them as much as I can. My mind soared around trying to resolve them. Expectedly, though, they remained unsolved.

It was painful thinking about these only to evade afterwards; nonetheless, I had no choice. This is where the numbing effect of alcohol and nicotine becomes relevant. Timely it is that at the moment I faltered they already hovered around my system. And I did not tinker any further. I decided to quit,
Completely.

Quitting is an inevitable decision because I never intend to indulge myself to intoxicate frequently. It was just a test–a mere attempt to look if intoxication with substances such as alcohol and nicotine is viable both as a coping mechanism and a pseudo-company.

Momentarily, intoxication is numbing. Yet, I already have my own coping mechanism that denies me to fall entirely on its numbing trap. I can exist and have my issues dealt with even without it. What went wrong is my intention to confuse intoxication and dealing with life’s issues. They are not compatible, and perhaps will never be.

There might be truth in Aristotle’s moderation. Yet, when it comes to intoxication with nicotine and alcohol, it doesn’t make sense to me anymore.

Past, Present and Future of a Baby Bear.

I can’t judge you by your past. I was not entitled to do that; neither could I care–because I was never part of it. What matters is the present, the now, and since that one fine day our paths crossed. Nevertheless, I admire you with the manner you strived to live your present despite of the ever lingering past. What you have been through was neither easy nor painless. Yet, you chose to live at that juncture of the past and the present. It amazes me how you handled it; even more as you realized what it is to be valued. What you do and what you are right now inspire and strengthen me. Your present shared with me, taught me that love can run sweeter than what lovers do. I fear, however, that one day both of us shall grow–must grow–to live our own lives. I fear that day when I shall become–and inevitably must become–only a thing of your past.

(for baby bear, after a night out)

Graduation Dilemma

After careful considerations and several debates with myself, I decided to attend my graduation. Protracted paranoia and extreme bitterness have badly scarred my positive outlook towards the occasion.

Jumping to other side of the coin, I realized how shallow graduation rites are. Its entirety is a dense celebration of various achievements that at first seemed to be received out of toil and hard work. But in reality, these achievements were accomplished within a lax and carefree environment. The difficulty and the rigor boasted off are but sweet decadent toppings to a rotting interior. Things desired to be and must be learned were left in irreconcilable gaps and loopholes.

I have come to view that graduation is a celebration of failures and disappointments. It is that moment when one realizes that efforts exerted were not at all commensurate to the achievement or perhaps, that it could have been tripled or quadrupled in order for the results to become more satisfactory. But in either of the two, the unrelenting fact that there is something wrong with the educational system is always persistent. Realizing the imperfectness of it, must one be overtly proud about it?

I say NO.

That line of reasoning I have imbued myself with was selfish. It discounted the fact that graduation is not supposed to be my moment to shine, but my parents’ moment to get a share of the limelight. It totally neglected that graduation is supposed to celebrate my parents’ love and pride, not just because I finish schooling, but that they have seen their pain and hard work actually materialize before their very eyes. It is a painting of an artist in a gallery exhibit, and a craft of a poet in publication, so to speak.

Graduation is not about me. It is about my parents. And in the intermediate juncture of their lives, I do not have the right to deprive them of giving such honor. And I am glad that I passed such selfish thinking and, after careful considerations and several debates with myself, I decided to attend my graduation.

Flame, Flies and Fecal Excrement.

Had I been more sparing in words and kind in language, I would have been mirrored in a flame’s sharp tongue and encapsulated in its trauma. Had I used the language more metaphorically - subtle yet intense, moving but precise – I would have been wearing the same pair of rotten slippers it used to.

I am aware; but I am not.

Its language less blunt but outspoken, creates a picturesque of sort and describes in vivid details the faces of a tireless denouement. Its treatment of language is impassioned, fashioned with swift melodic touches, so poignant, glad to hear but is never understood. Its verses are lucid and precise, as clear as the water flushing the human stool down the latrine.

Its metaphor breathes thirty-nine degrees of remorse, exculpating the cavity from the yellow-tarnished tooth; its imagery, a reiteration civility and civilization as superficial remainders extracted from bargaining but at the concealed nerve endings rest individual biases and prejudices. It holds a razor-sharp scalpel attacking the mundane to satisfy an unbridled self-conceit.

In the fields, the flies are swaying in ecstasy, nibbling on the decomposing fecal excrement, and prancing around it with delight. They indulge upon such a horrendous sight, but delectable to their senses; each one moving from point A to point B as if it was their last. But as the sun cools down, the foreboding darkness devilishly smirks at them, painstakingly waiting for its sweet opportunity to devour them. Finally, the flies bow down, hurl their last pirouette, and fall dead upon the bosom of the earth they had once condemned.

A flame I know speaks with subtlety, imagery and metaphor; criticizes the mundane and attacks censoriously; but never foresees equanimity and objectivity.

Drafting Water.

Water drafting, falling
From the tip of Everest

Briefly disturbing the outline
Of the sleek vertical horizon

Swift and gentle, it flows just
As his sweat travels along

The contour of his gym-fit physique
Down to his fuzzy navel

And right into your soul.
Radio’s playing at the

Tip of you sharp memory
Down to the caveats of

The mystified canyon, where
Lucid and pale water could

Have been lightly cascading
It was a betrothal of sort:

A confirmation of notes,
Forming tones, cultivating to rhythm

Sensibility forms music, just as
Water is formed by the bottle.

Drafting water, reaching the
Floor of the deep, calm river

Like it reaches the bottom
Of a playing orchestra

Embracing your forbidden thought,
Such lingering a desire.

The Charlatan.

disclaimer: the author and the speaker are not always one and the same.

You discovered yourself and
learned how beautiful you are -
heaven’s unlikely gift

You started to get vain and
flaunted to the rest of the world
flamboyant gaudiness

You got what you want, though
to discern whether you deserve
them is another question

You became somebody,
whilst you want some more:
fame, prestige & recognition

Incessant desires stimulate
your haughty pride to accumulate
some more, and more to come

Even in love, and lust perhaps,
you desire even the most elusive
of all

Your heart fell for someone, not
only once, but there is always an
empty conundrum to be filled

And like the restless bee,
you move from pollen to pollen
of different kinds and sorts

You were once proud in each affair
but come to resent it in time
so short a span

For you are a pusillanimous
charlatan - a wicked creature
who pretends to be somebody

You are incapable of manifesting
love, reduced by superficial vestiges
of society you try to cling to

But pushes you mindlessly away.
With the love you desire, your
emblazoned superficiality

And everything that comes
you’re fated to love the life
of Sysiphus, seems always at

Par with everything you yearn
but eventually left eroded
in time so short a span

Only there is certainty that
unlike him, you can never
ever be happy.

De-Metamorphosis.

In the middle of a night forlorn, a tiny seed struggled against itself wanting to break free from its deep and solitary imprisonment. It impatiently aspired to get a glimpse of the breaking daylight and have its first taste of the early morning dew.

Restive but determined, the tiny seed churned consistently until its cot broke apart, six inches below the anticipated plush terrain. The rupturing of its thick, dense wall, whether naturally caused or not, was less conceivable. Then it started to move out rapidly and find its way thru the tiny dark granules. Its overzealous excitement cannot be stopped. It resisted valiantly against the tightly compacted matter, moving upward the yet to be discovered surface.

And finally, it reached its so-long desired destination. The moment it was drawn closer to the fore of the emulsified topmost soil to accommodate its liberation is fleeting. Yet, it was decisive, for it shall determine the seed’s coming into being. At long last, the newly germinated seed, now a fledgling plant, set its eyes on what it excitedly willed to see.

First, there was a moment of resurgence, of trivial upturn and contemplation of what it expected. Reverberating tremendously was the sight of a sun-drenched firmament projecting a vast tranquil horizon, of lush and verdant greenery reflective of the soil’s fertility and of nature’s distinctive sound. It was a pleasant disturbance perplexing the senses.

It could have been so.

But it was different. It was deviance to the entire created image. The vibrant foresight was only a putrescent notion, a superficial embodiment that emanated from a very youthful glare. The sight was objectively tarnished, numbing the senses and deceiving its functions. The firmament was dark and overcast, sending an ominous message of melancholia. The field was barren and isolated. Creeping through its eerie atmosphere were screechy sounds barely audible. And drenched within the soil’s content were toxic and contaminated substances.

The seed, agitated by the stark reality, was once again perturbed. This time, it was ghastly. It was appalled more than disappointed. It was crammed with intense rancor and resentimént that it eventually wanted to stage both internal and external revulsion. It was revolting against itself for being ingrained there. Then, it let out a censorious attack, thinking it could beat the odds to transform the entirety – to what it want it to be. Yet, it remained superficial. For it did not know where it is coming from. For it lacked the indispensable understanding of why things appear as they are and not as it wanted them to be.

Now that it is surviving the most sordid place and thriving in such a rotten environment, it began to question the minutest detail. It demands the transformation of its surroundings without contemplating on what it had already done, on what it had contributed or on what perhaps it can do. Clearly, it speaks without substance. It demands without due cause.

But it was too late. The once tiny seed was now a budding tree. Its trunk, though weak, has already thickened. It has already increased tremendously both in width and length. Its leaves though were emaciated; and its twigs were slender and fragile, attesting the fact that it did not receive the vital amount of nutrients to supply its growth. It remains puzzling that despite of this, the seed grew and came into being.

The tiny seed has been tossed in the wrong spot. It cannot deny that it was a product of a surrounding so luridly despising, so viciously disdainful that had gradually usurped its vitality and incrementally obliterated its potentials. It is fated to live such eternal destiny.

Dialectic.

College days are almost over. Creeping right through my skin are the memories - the vestiges of a recent past that primordially molded my coming into being. The remnants of this past may fade but will always resurge.

The memory fading
away in shambles,
Gone through its
eternal crimson hue,
Flows from the
mantra of skepticism
The memory resonating
insouciantly beneath,
Down into the caveats
of eternal revulsion,
Hovers profusely over
the quintessential element
The memory lingering
veiled in a nascent notion,
Philanders the mind
with a surge of recurrence,
And over and over
It drifts always anew

Caffeinic Indulgence 2.

Scribbled while indulging in caffeine at the library cafe, 04 February 2006.

The overpowering caffeine burst inside my system; each thawed granule speaks to my constricted nerves.

Paralyzed in the midst of trance, phases and movement around me, I deny myself of the power to be – to become what I intended to be.

With no metaphors to use, no mental repercussions produced, I am left wanting in middle of insanity. Who should inspire me? Or better yet should there be one to look forward to – to see as a motivating force that will lead me to action?

Miseries remain as they are, seemed to be incrementally solidifying in the passage of time. There is self desecration to think for someone, to look forward for someone to spend quality time with. It is an effervescent moment; a fleeting flash of time.

With the question of whom I want to be with, whom I want to share momentary isolation with, degenerates every instance into the inquiry of who am I? And what do I want to do with myself?

It is a triggered stimuli, my inevitable responses to the caffeine hovering right across the conundrum of my veins.

Powerful ensuing reasons-wanting gestures of empathic emotions; transcending the limits of mystified time.

Back.

I have been out for quite some time, barely noticing how time flies so swift and tender. Sure thing, I miss gliding my mind on the unadulterated blank sheet. I pine for each moment I used to play with words, creatively and systematically. For it gives me a sense of direction, a sense of being.

Engaged with too many a thing all at the same time could possible suffice for a reason. But if I calculate each time, each moment that passed by, it would inevitably show that some moments were treated idly and inefficiently. Like I used to be, and like what I am remained. It proved difficult to emancipate from the encapsulation in nothingness.

That is what I used to be. That is what I am - a being in nothingness. As Jean-Paul Sartre posits “existence precedes essence.” The significance and meaning of becoming human is a predicate to existence. It is not to be treated as the subject. What one is to become is what one desires to become. The becoming is that which defines the being’s essentiality.

My essence, my being is fashioned by my decisions, by the things that I want to do and the manner I will to do them. Now, defining me is not in itself generalize-able into a single term epitomizing the whole of my entity. It entails a lot of aspect to uncover, a multiple of spaces to fill; for to be human is not to be a singular man, for there is multi-dimensionality in ‘humanity.’ It cannot be reduced into a sheer unified, universal entity.

Blogging and writing, for instance, is just a dimension of my entirety. These propensities are manifestation of my becoming human, which partially define me. Both are not my entirety, yet, they speak of my being, my becoming, and my essence. My development from nothingness to becoming is certainly derived from these propensities, which are decided upon and chosen by the full conscious recognition of my freedom.

Counting Some Blessings
1. Mom has now recovered.
2. Dad got his adaptation papers/working permit approved.
3. I was able to answer competently an almost 20-minute recitation with my professor in Local Government and Development, a much needed to augment my mark for that course.
4. Thesis Defense is over. My group got an A in one of the panelists. Surprisingly, he never asked any question, just recommendation. As regards the other panelist, he conceded that we have a good study but still does not give our mark.