No other place beats home. Yesterday, I flew in from Palawan and my excitement to go back in Manila was, well, justly compensated. Nothing compares to the comfort of my little bed with its soft pillows and sweet smelling linen filling up my small room. Nothing beats my white clean bathroom and its cold shower dripping over my skin, like I am bathing in a fresh river water. Nothing overcomes sleeping the whole day and waking up with sumptuously cooked dishes already set in the dining. And mostly, nothing beats the company of my family, though will never be completed, is still a place I'd always call HOME.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
conversation with ryan
With no one to talk to, feeling bored and all, I picked up my phone and looked for my college buddy’s number, Ryan. I dialed his digits and then we talked. What actually prompted me to call him was that I remembered his Friendster bulletin, and it was reason enough for me to connect with him. He was ranting about his life as a DLSU-FEU’s MBA-JD program student.
The guy was sad or shall I say feeling low about the repetitiveness of life. He’s very much experiencing what most of my college colleagues are very much in: happy one moment, only to realize something lacks in their life, though as if I don’t get a hang of it.
So there, our brief conversation went around his life. He’s really exhausted. Better put in the rat race lingo, he’s indeed burnout. Though he was growing up, spell maturity, he’s still caught up and about wanting to experience new things. He wanted a break from his routine. At age 23, he was ranting about making ends meet for his family, his 200 peso per meal expense (that’s times three excluding his 55 peso 7-11 coffee drank thrice or more or another cup at Starbucks), our friends not understanding his very hectic schedule every time they plan to meet up, his bloating physique and his thinning hair line. He’s basically caught up with so many responsibilities, all in the name of running ahead and chasing all his dreams.
Amidst this though, he finds happiness from thinking beyond himself. He thinks not only of his own future but of his family and his partner. He told me how things are making him mature, how he appreciates silence more than being so loud, and how he is driven to become so rich—like Pacquiao—for his posterity.
I was just listening, spell understanding, everything he has to say. He was like demanding for others to understand him. And that was the most I could do for him at that moment.
And when the discussion shifted to me, he asked me what in the world am I doing in Palawan when with the brains I got I could make it in Manila. I could still go to law school and pursue a high-paid job, be on top and make the best out of my life. He believes I can do it.
I believed him, too. Though I was also at the side of asking him to understand my decision, Why in the world do I have to be in Palawan? In an island totally unfamiliar to me? His question, perhaps, bugs every close to me, too. I knew I never had to explain myself, but sometimes I couldn’t help it: Bakit nga ba ako nandito?
To respond, I simply told him, “Ryan, you know ever since that I am different and I think differently.” But to my mind, I was thinking about what he is experiencing right now, his phase of looking for reasons for his existence, more than just the monetary compensation that the corporate world has to offer or any titular glory academics has to pad one’s resume. I saw it coming before anyone else, and I knew I had to choose a different path.
Not that I don’t believe in all those things. Not that I crouched in fear immediately. I just knew that there must have some other ways I could trail blaze. And when that time comes money and title will run after me. What is it to chase after those two when in the process I lose grasp of my life? I would live only once, and I would dare take the chance of charting it out the way I believe I can be happy in the process.
To each is his own. I don’t raise an eyebrow to my college friends. In fact, I am proud of them: Ryan is taking his MBA-JD program; two others, Lucky and Alden are both at the Ateneo pursuing law; Louie is teaching at a university while finishing his masters at the Ateneo; Maricris is chasing after her childhood dream to be a doctor; and Joyce is working at a law and taking her MA in Development Studies at La Salle. Who wouldn’t be proud of them?
It’s just that I came into a point in my life that I have to ask myself what really matter? I don’t want to live my life trying to be happy when I can really be happy learning what is life and living it with a purpose at the same time. After all, everything is meaningless. This, too, is meaningless, a chase after the wind.
I guess, I was just blessed with this opportunity, that not grasping it would perhaps be a life-long regret.
The guy was sad or shall I say feeling low about the repetitiveness of life. He’s very much experiencing what most of my college colleagues are very much in: happy one moment, only to realize something lacks in their life, though as if I don’t get a hang of it.
So there, our brief conversation went around his life. He’s really exhausted. Better put in the rat race lingo, he’s indeed burnout. Though he was growing up, spell maturity, he’s still caught up and about wanting to experience new things. He wanted a break from his routine. At age 23, he was ranting about making ends meet for his family, his 200 peso per meal expense (that’s times three excluding his 55 peso 7-11 coffee drank thrice or more or another cup at Starbucks), our friends not understanding his very hectic schedule every time they plan to meet up, his bloating physique and his thinning hair line. He’s basically caught up with so many responsibilities, all in the name of running ahead and chasing all his dreams.
Amidst this though, he finds happiness from thinking beyond himself. He thinks not only of his own future but of his family and his partner. He told me how things are making him mature, how he appreciates silence more than being so loud, and how he is driven to become so rich—like Pacquiao—for his posterity.
I was just listening, spell understanding, everything he has to say. He was like demanding for others to understand him. And that was the most I could do for him at that moment.
And when the discussion shifted to me, he asked me what in the world am I doing in Palawan when with the brains I got I could make it in Manila. I could still go to law school and pursue a high-paid job, be on top and make the best out of my life. He believes I can do it.
I believed him, too. Though I was also at the side of asking him to understand my decision, Why in the world do I have to be in Palawan? In an island totally unfamiliar to me? His question, perhaps, bugs every close to me, too. I knew I never had to explain myself, but sometimes I couldn’t help it: Bakit nga ba ako nandito?
To respond, I simply told him, “Ryan, you know ever since that I am different and I think differently.” But to my mind, I was thinking about what he is experiencing right now, his phase of looking for reasons for his existence, more than just the monetary compensation that the corporate world has to offer or any titular glory academics has to pad one’s resume. I saw it coming before anyone else, and I knew I had to choose a different path.
Not that I don’t believe in all those things. Not that I crouched in fear immediately. I just knew that there must have some other ways I could trail blaze. And when that time comes money and title will run after me. What is it to chase after those two when in the process I lose grasp of my life? I would live only once, and I would dare take the chance of charting it out the way I believe I can be happy in the process.
To each is his own. I don’t raise an eyebrow to my college friends. In fact, I am proud of them: Ryan is taking his MBA-JD program; two others, Lucky and Alden are both at the Ateneo pursuing law; Louie is teaching at a university while finishing his masters at the Ateneo; Maricris is chasing after her childhood dream to be a doctor; and Joyce is working at a law and taking her MA in Development Studies at La Salle. Who wouldn’t be proud of them?
It’s just that I came into a point in my life that I have to ask myself what really matter? I don’t want to live my life trying to be happy when I can really be happy learning what is life and living it with a purpose at the same time. After all, everything is meaningless. This, too, is meaningless, a chase after the wind.
I guess, I was just blessed with this opportunity, that not grasping it would perhaps be a life-long regret.
Monday, December 15, 2008
overload weekend
I couldn’t take of my creative juices, so I pushed for doing the tarpaulin for the college’s Christmas celebration. This time the celebration is with a twist. The concept is to invite less fortunate children from other schools and share with them the way we do Christmas party. We intend to give them gifts, have them for some dining, and make them enjoy fun games. The idea is to have the program set especially for them. We call it iSHARE-A-LIFE, where the I is written in small caps to symbolize humility. It’s I decentralized to become compassionate and caring about others. Through this we intend our own students to become generous to others and think less of themselves.
Here’s the tarp I conceptualized, got photographer for and laid/lain out, myself.
---
I guess I really, really miss Manila. After my work out, I went to beans and pages to satisfy my tuna turnover and chamomile tea cravings. Sadly, I just got the turnover, and settled for a blueberry tea, which isn’t bad after all.
I stayed there for like an hour, looking over the papers I planned to check. Instead of sifting through the grammars error and all, I took my phone and got myself some snapshots. Well, the lighting was obviously perfect.
Then I got my bill, thinking about going home already. Unfortunately the barista doesn’t have any change for my bill. So I waited. More snapshots. More glancing through the papers. When I can’t wait any longer, I just order an iced cold Americano topped with whipped cream.
As I walked out of the café, I imagined I got myself a coffee from starbucks and was walking through the streets of Manila, only the light was dimmer and there were no high-rise building in sight. Walking though, made my night complete.
---
I made someone terribly mad at me last Friday. Come Saturday before I worked out, I went to the flower shop and bought a bouquet of fresh roses then handed it over to her. It was the simplest yet sweetest thing I ever did for someone I made mad.
---
For this Sunday’s fourth service, I was invited to panel on the topic about gifts. Since I was an achiever according to the organizers, they invited me to do so. It was like a short interview cum testimony of my experience as a student. At first I was very hesitant, but knowing I could share some experience to other people, I nonetheless grabbed the opportunity.
The bad side was I wasn’t able to buy the dress I want to wear for it, though I didn’t look bad with what I wore. The good side was I was able to control myself from being impulsive again. After all, it wasn’t supposed to be about me.
During the interview, I was glad I was able to answer the questions well. Of course, I charged it to my experiences. It’s really easy to speak out of your own experiences and the lesson you yourself extracted from the experience. So, there I spoke straight from the heart, without failing to give honor and glory to where it is due.
I am really thankful and blessed for this opportunity. Who knows, next time I’d be the one sharing.
Here’s the tarp I conceptualized, got photographer for and laid/lain out, myself.
---
I guess I really, really miss Manila. After my work out, I went to beans and pages to satisfy my tuna turnover and chamomile tea cravings. Sadly, I just got the turnover, and settled for a blueberry tea, which isn’t bad after all.
I stayed there for like an hour, looking over the papers I planned to check. Instead of sifting through the grammars error and all, I took my phone and got myself some snapshots. Well, the lighting was obviously perfect.
Then I got my bill, thinking about going home already. Unfortunately the barista doesn’t have any change for my bill. So I waited. More snapshots. More glancing through the papers. When I can’t wait any longer, I just order an iced cold Americano topped with whipped cream.
As I walked out of the café, I imagined I got myself a coffee from starbucks and was walking through the streets of Manila, only the light was dimmer and there were no high-rise building in sight. Walking though, made my night complete.
---
I made someone terribly mad at me last Friday. Come Saturday before I worked out, I went to the flower shop and bought a bouquet of fresh roses then handed it over to her. It was the simplest yet sweetest thing I ever did for someone I made mad.
---
For this Sunday’s fourth service, I was invited to panel on the topic about gifts. Since I was an achiever according to the organizers, they invited me to do so. It was like a short interview cum testimony of my experience as a student. At first I was very hesitant, but knowing I could share some experience to other people, I nonetheless grabbed the opportunity.
The bad side was I wasn’t able to buy the dress I want to wear for it, though I didn’t look bad with what I wore. The good side was I was able to control myself from being impulsive again. After all, it wasn’t supposed to be about me.
During the interview, I was glad I was able to answer the questions well. Of course, I charged it to my experiences. It’s really easy to speak out of your own experiences and the lesson you yourself extracted from the experience. So, there I spoke straight from the heart, without failing to give honor and glory to where it is due.
I am really thankful and blessed for this opportunity. Who knows, next time I’d be the one sharing.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Yebba! They did it again.
I was impressed by my senior class’ performance in our English activity: producing a talk show. I divided the class into four groups last week and assigned them the task to create a talkshow based on the topic, “Crossroads Teenagers Face.”
Having held them by about two years now, I knew that had tendency to be passive and lax. I recall last year I tasked them to make a speech choir. And when they were about to perform, I noticed they were very, and did I say very, much ill-prepared. I burst out! I was expecting something neither really something extraordinary nor extravagant but just something they took time to sit down, study and rehearse. It was all I was after. But lo and behold: no props, no magic! I gave them all a much deserved Z-E-R-O for that activity.
And, so it wasn’t 7th heaven waiting for this day to come. I kept on reminding them and even had dedicated one day for the research at computer laboratory. I do believe in sources to substantiate any argument. I mean, there must always be a basis, isn’t it? I also have the auditorium reserved for this specific function because I want them to experience how is it to be up on stage talking and assuming other people’s chucks.
To cut this short, we had the stage set complete with lights and sounds (3 microphones and a wireless one), with laptops and LCD projector, with props and with a video camera. Only, there were no other audiences but the class.
What was exciting about this was that, people who are not used to talking suddenly talked and talked and talked. Though scripted, they still have taken effort to simulate with their character roles and to study their lines. They might miss some lines, but the hearing them speak or at least try to speak like they’re really native speakers of English was a plus point in itself.
I was really proud about how my students fared. This time around, they learned R-E-S-P-O-N-S-I-B-I-L-I-T-Y. Finally! Thank God… You are really working! Hahahaha…. Kidding! Let me just say, I am JUST a PROUD TEACHER---proud to have shared how it is not to settle for the ordinary. TG!
Having held them by about two years now, I knew that had tendency to be passive and lax. I recall last year I tasked them to make a speech choir. And when they were about to perform, I noticed they were very, and did I say very, much ill-prepared. I burst out! I was expecting something neither really something extraordinary nor extravagant but just something they took time to sit down, study and rehearse. It was all I was after. But lo and behold: no props, no magic! I gave them all a much deserved Z-E-R-O for that activity.
And, so it wasn’t 7th heaven waiting for this day to come. I kept on reminding them and even had dedicated one day for the research at computer laboratory. I do believe in sources to substantiate any argument. I mean, there must always be a basis, isn’t it? I also have the auditorium reserved for this specific function because I want them to experience how is it to be up on stage talking and assuming other people’s chucks.
To cut this short, we had the stage set complete with lights and sounds (3 microphones and a wireless one), with laptops and LCD projector, with props and with a video camera. Only, there were no other audiences but the class.
What was exciting about this was that, people who are not used to talking suddenly talked and talked and talked. Though scripted, they still have taken effort to simulate with their character roles and to study their lines. They might miss some lines, but the hearing them speak or at least try to speak like they’re really native speakers of English was a plus point in itself.
I was really proud about how my students fared. This time around, they learned R-E-S-P-O-N-S-I-B-I-L-I-T-Y. Finally! Thank God… You are really working! Hahahaha…. Kidding! Let me just say, I am JUST a PROUD TEACHER---proud to have shared how it is not to settle for the ordinary. TG!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Teacher's Day!
Yesterday was teacher's day!
And the first thing that got through me was: why am I doing this?
Apparently, it still doesn't sink in that much. So, i was in this another Hegelian struggle, perplexed yet again by lots and lots of questions. It was like, there's a battle raging between my temples. Of course, I knew the answers. This was not the type of questioning that puts me off my rail. I just love thinking and puzzling myself.
Unlike the previous years where i really get heads on with the organizers and students, like responding, "Teacher's day, come on, ewwww" or arriving late for so-called party. Thing is, i am really not moved by petty celebrations with life-sized banners "We love you teachers" sugar coated as "ka-plastikan." Students would always be one time angelic, most of the time demonic. I mean, could there anything be more shallow than this?
That is how i used to view things, until yesterday that my advisory in the student council, without my knowing but with me somehow hoping, took the capital I-N-I-T-I-A-T-I-V-E.
I told them after the short program they prepared, "if there is this one proudest teacher at this moment, it would have to be me."
I really am!
----
If you're here in puerto princesa city and have your schedule free by wednesday, Dec 17, 2008, why not see SULYAP, a locally produced short.
And the first thing that got through me was: why am I doing this?
Apparently, it still doesn't sink in that much. So, i was in this another Hegelian struggle, perplexed yet again by lots and lots of questions. It was like, there's a battle raging between my temples. Of course, I knew the answers. This was not the type of questioning that puts me off my rail. I just love thinking and puzzling myself.
Unlike the previous years where i really get heads on with the organizers and students, like responding, "Teacher's day, come on, ewwww" or arriving late for so-called party. Thing is, i am really not moved by petty celebrations with life-sized banners "We love you teachers" sugar coated as "ka-plastikan." Students would always be one time angelic, most of the time demonic. I mean, could there anything be more shallow than this?
That is how i used to view things, until yesterday that my advisory in the student council, without my knowing but with me somehow hoping, took the capital I-N-I-T-I-A-T-I-V-E.
I told them after the short program they prepared, "if there is this one proudest teacher at this moment, it would have to be me."
I really am!
----
If you're here in puerto princesa city and have your schedule free by wednesday, Dec 17, 2008, why not see SULYAP, a locally produced short.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
pambahay
paula: waw, sir first time kita nakita naka-pambahay.
me: hahaha. tao din naman ako
paula: kala ko kasi sir, hard to reach ka.
me: continued walking.
----
Ohhhh!
me: hahaha. tao din naman ako
paula: kala ko kasi sir, hard to reach ka.
me: continued walking.
----
Ohhhh!
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Mutya-tya
Had the chance to watch this year's mutya ng pilipinas Talent Night, since it was held here in Puerto Princesa. I could say what the hopefuls lack for talent or lack for preparation, they made it up as a comic relief. It's like the whole show was a treat for itself--a show in a show. It was a showcase of kwela and pakwela, with them perhaps having no intention at all to look funny... Even hilarious. Anyone who'd seen it wouldn't want it to be strictly formal and toned seriously. otherwise, it loses the magic.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
on change
"Lord, if this is heaven. Don't wake me up."
-Teacher Love, after her uncooperative student miraculously changed.
every day we see things change. some are tremendous; some are barely noticed. and the next day, we see the same things revert back to its previous. then we prove that change does not take overnight. and we learn that change is both a phase and a process.
Monday, November 24, 2008
From Obscurity to Certainty pt.3
Next thing is, to wait. You see, I have not been patience ever since. I got irate easily to a slow-serving fast food attendant. I freak out when I have to wait long when meeting a friend. I hate every moment that I have to queue. I got low tolerance to students who don’t understand.
I get what I want. And I want to caress them on my palm through the quickest, easiest route. Even my career choice was already laid down planned. I would take up law, choose corporate as my cup of tea. I already made up my mind that this will be my passport to success. But suddenly, I shifted gears and made an impossible 180 degree turnaround.
I was made to wait. And I realized the beauty of life that I was missing and could have missed more, all because I was too fast and impatient to slow down.
I begin to notice how sweet a smile of a fast food crew can be when I flash one before I explain my demanding, customized order. I noticed how fast I could tread on chapters or converse through sms with another friend or observe how people strangely behave while waiting in a long queue. I proved that everyone has a unique learning ability, that others are fast learners while some are not, but for as long as they learn, I accomplish my task a teacher.
Now, I was made to wait again. As soon as I sorted out what needs attention during my solitude, my next task is to overcome waiting. And by waiting, I don’t mean having to struggle in vain for what I want anymore. It’s about waiting for a higher purpose I was called for, submitting fully to my life’s mission as it slowly and sweetly unfolds before my very eyes.
How about you, what’s your mission?
I get what I want. And I want to caress them on my palm through the quickest, easiest route. Even my career choice was already laid down planned. I would take up law, choose corporate as my cup of tea. I already made up my mind that this will be my passport to success. But suddenly, I shifted gears and made an impossible 180 degree turnaround.
I was made to wait. And I realized the beauty of life that I was missing and could have missed more, all because I was too fast and impatient to slow down.
I begin to notice how sweet a smile of a fast food crew can be when I flash one before I explain my demanding, customized order. I noticed how fast I could tread on chapters or converse through sms with another friend or observe how people strangely behave while waiting in a long queue. I proved that everyone has a unique learning ability, that others are fast learners while some are not, but for as long as they learn, I accomplish my task a teacher.
Now, I was made to wait again. As soon as I sorted out what needs attention during my solitude, my next task is to overcome waiting. And by waiting, I don’t mean having to struggle in vain for what I want anymore. It’s about waiting for a higher purpose I was called for, submitting fully to my life’s mission as it slowly and sweetly unfolds before my very eyes.
How about you, what’s your mission?
Saturday, November 22, 2008
From obscurity to certainty pt.2
I figured out that solitude, whether by choice or chance, is equally important as enjoying the company of multitude. But it’s a Batman and Robin thingy. Solitude tags along loneliness and makes it, say, unbearable and painful.
And I could hear from my seat Obama declaring “Change has come.”
Isn’t it in loneliness that we seek ourselves and our situation? Isn’t it in when we’re downcast that we find hope and draw courage to live again and again? Isn’t it in those dark lonely nights that we hear our inner voices conversing with that One Still Voice?
It’s amazing that solitary confinement and loneliness can yield such a satisfying end. It’s like the law of magnetism, opposite poles attract. And, they do—solitude attracts reflection that later on sorts out whatever is needing attention.
Avoiding loneliness, though, is like taking a medicine when you feel something wrong. The medicine relieves. True! Yet, you didn’t really listen to the body. An ache, a fever is the body’s way of telling there’s something not right. When you take medicine for immediate relief, you failed to listen to what your body is telling you. You fail to sort out what was wrong. It could have been something you ate or did that’s supposed to teach you to be careful next time.
When one is lonely and tries to cover up; it’s a failure of listening intently to a message that there’s something wrong and needs to be dealt with.
And I could hear from my seat Obama declaring “Change has come.”
Isn’t it in loneliness that we seek ourselves and our situation? Isn’t it in when we’re downcast that we find hope and draw courage to live again and again? Isn’t it in those dark lonely nights that we hear our inner voices conversing with that One Still Voice?
It’s amazing that solitary confinement and loneliness can yield such a satisfying end. It’s like the law of magnetism, opposite poles attract. And, they do—solitude attracts reflection that later on sorts out whatever is needing attention.
Avoiding loneliness, though, is like taking a medicine when you feel something wrong. The medicine relieves. True! Yet, you didn’t really listen to the body. An ache, a fever is the body’s way of telling there’s something not right. When you take medicine for immediate relief, you failed to listen to what your body is telling you. You fail to sort out what was wrong. It could have been something you ate or did that’s supposed to teach you to be careful next time.
When one is lonely and tries to cover up; it’s a failure of listening intently to a message that there’s something wrong and needs to be dealt with.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
From obscurity to certainty pt.1
The word zapped me like a whipped cream drizzled with caramel on top of a house blend frappucino. Tangy on the tongue, smooth by the surface. Just the way I wanted. Exactly the jolt I craved for.
Lest, I forget this early morning coffee, the word won't drift away from my memory any more. Vivid it was when it stabbed me that what I am going through right now is nothing but a dream-a lucid dream-that I need not to wake up from but continue to fly in its dark-cloudy skies, immerse in its obscure waters, and tread on its thorny path before I open my eyes.
For months, I have been patiently counting the lonely nights I spent in solitude and the few remaining nights I have to endure before finally saying “It’s over. I am done with this.” And when that glory moment come, I won’t cower but shall walk across the room triumphantly tall and proud as if I’m saying, “I won’t look back. Never.”
But last night, it was different. The answers to my questions yielded itself like a lady waiting for her man in the open-willing, submissive, adorning. I succumbed to the inevitability of solitude, waiting and death.
Lest, I forget this early morning coffee, the word won't drift away from my memory any more. Vivid it was when it stabbed me that what I am going through right now is nothing but a dream-a lucid dream-that I need not to wake up from but continue to fly in its dark-cloudy skies, immerse in its obscure waters, and tread on its thorny path before I open my eyes.
For months, I have been patiently counting the lonely nights I spent in solitude and the few remaining nights I have to endure before finally saying “It’s over. I am done with this.” And when that glory moment come, I won’t cower but shall walk across the room triumphantly tall and proud as if I’m saying, “I won’t look back. Never.”
But last night, it was different. The answers to my questions yielded itself like a lady waiting for her man in the open-willing, submissive, adorning. I succumbed to the inevitability of solitude, waiting and death.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
A Conversation
M: Oh God, I can’t go on singing praises to you.
J: Why?
M: People around keeps on distracting me. I really can’t go on doing this without having to think about them too.
J: May I know what’s too bothersome you about them?
M: See that guy on red shirt with his hands lifted so high and that lady holding the microphone? I caught them once kissing inside the male’s comfort room last week. That guy is the boyfriend of my sister’s friend.
How about that man seated on the second seat in front row? He was once the head of the ministry I involved in. He’s a chauvinist. He commands like we’re slaves; he badmouths like a jealous wife or an obsessive-compulsive mother.
And that lady holding a black pouch under her arms, she has this ill reputation of talking too much and spreading rumors in the company she works in. She was the cause of the ouster of one of her colleague and the break up of this couple who used to go to church together. Now, the two don’t attend church anymore.
I could name a few more. But mind you, I can’t stand the people around me.
J: So what’s that got to do with praising me?
M: I don’t know. Maybe they just bother me too much I find them hypocritical, you know, like modern day Pharisees and obviously, intentional sinners.
J: And how about you?
M: I know I am also a sinner and all; but at least I’m not overtly proud raising my hands and showy in my praises. And I’m always cautious not to sin, at least, not as much as before. You know, I have changed a lot since I got here.
J: I know, I know. But don’t you see, just like you, they…they are work in progress?
M: You mean, it is okay to sin and praise, only to sin more and praise again?
J: Remember grace? It was a freebie to the many wonderful promises handed to you when you accepted Christ as your Lord and Savior.
It’s the Father’s way of saying I understand you kid. I know that the path I wanted you to tread is not easy, there will be humps and bumps and you will fall, again and again. Again and again.
And whether it is by choice or chance, I am not so much in a hurry about your perfection. In fact, I am not even concerned about you becoming perfect. What I am concerned with is that with every fall, you learn and try to get up not by your own strength but by my grace. Learning is not a New York minute.
M: But they’re Christians now! They made a pact with you.
J: Yeah, and as Christians you’re more attractive to tests and trials, even failures. That’s the road you are supposed to take. That’s where your character is formed, uniquely, in the Father’s way. Christianity, you see, is not just about me. It’s about building a character, your character. Do you think character is formed when you just sit and relax and don’t go into the real test?
J: Why?
M: People around keeps on distracting me. I really can’t go on doing this without having to think about them too.
J: May I know what’s too bothersome you about them?
M: See that guy on red shirt with his hands lifted so high and that lady holding the microphone? I caught them once kissing inside the male’s comfort room last week. That guy is the boyfriend of my sister’s friend.
How about that man seated on the second seat in front row? He was once the head of the ministry I involved in. He’s a chauvinist. He commands like we’re slaves; he badmouths like a jealous wife or an obsessive-compulsive mother.
And that lady holding a black pouch under her arms, she has this ill reputation of talking too much and spreading rumors in the company she works in. She was the cause of the ouster of one of her colleague and the break up of this couple who used to go to church together. Now, the two don’t attend church anymore.
I could name a few more. But mind you, I can’t stand the people around me.
J: So what’s that got to do with praising me?
M: I don’t know. Maybe they just bother me too much I find them hypocritical, you know, like modern day Pharisees and obviously, intentional sinners.
J: And how about you?
M: I know I am also a sinner and all; but at least I’m not overtly proud raising my hands and showy in my praises. And I’m always cautious not to sin, at least, not as much as before. You know, I have changed a lot since I got here.
J: I know, I know. But don’t you see, just like you, they…they are work in progress?
M: You mean, it is okay to sin and praise, only to sin more and praise again?
J: Remember grace? It was a freebie to the many wonderful promises handed to you when you accepted Christ as your Lord and Savior.
It’s the Father’s way of saying I understand you kid. I know that the path I wanted you to tread is not easy, there will be humps and bumps and you will fall, again and again. Again and again.
And whether it is by choice or chance, I am not so much in a hurry about your perfection. In fact, I am not even concerned about you becoming perfect. What I am concerned with is that with every fall, you learn and try to get up not by your own strength but by my grace. Learning is not a New York minute.
M: But they’re Christians now! They made a pact with you.
J: Yeah, and as Christians you’re more attractive to tests and trials, even failures. That’s the road you are supposed to take. That’s where your character is formed, uniquely, in the Father’s way. Christianity, you see, is not just about me. It’s about building a character, your character. Do you think character is formed when you just sit and relax and don’t go into the real test?
Monday, November 17, 2008
The day i almost died, err, got hit
i and my sis, along with forthlan and her sibs, were halfway crossing rizal avenue on to our morning delight destination-- pancakes at jollibee. i am at the right side looking after motors coming from that side of town, and while at it, i failed to glance at those coming from our direction. upon reaching the middle of the avenue, we all stopped, i backed off a little since i was one step farther. then suddenly, a swift rushing motor passed right in front me, so close had i not backed off, i would have been hit bulls eye. coincidence? i don't think so.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
watching this lola and a snap in a past
i chanced upon this story of an old woman in rated K, korina's weekly tv magazine program aired on ABS-CBN, last week. and like any story of an old woman, i was blown hard.
i am moved in such a way that i always have this heart for the elders. looking at them and observing them never fail to jolt me. how agonizing it must be to live in such a condition at an old age?
her plot is similar to others. like this lola (which passed my recollection of the name), most still work to survive not only for herself but for her family to feed. it reminds me of the old couple i always see whenever i walk pass Espana to my university. the couple, perhaps abandoned by their family or perhaps they have no family at all, sells dailies, tabloids, candies and cigars to live by each day. and each day that i pass, i couldn't help but grasp. how unfortunate they must be? how cruel fate has destined them to such a horrible condition.
all of them reminds me of how lucky my own lolas or lolos were for not having experienced such misfortune, for not having passed unto us that gloomy stature. though, they might not be financially abundant, they were well taken care of in the same manner that they have reared us.
with this filthy-poor condition that they found themselves struggling, i can't help but set my eyes toward the making of a system where they thrived and unfortunately, still prevails.
to my mind they are a product of a live-by-the-day life or as best put by the pinoy saying "isang kahig, isang tuka." the plight of poverty in this country was so much that it even pushed for a worse scenario-poverty mentality, that is.
this can be traced as far as the Spanish colonial rule, when the friars would arrogantly teach out-of-context the beatitudes-- "blessed are the poor in spirit for they shall inherit the heavens" (Mark5:3). Highlighted was the poor so the friars collected usuriously lump sum of taxes and indolence. it went so for hundreds of years until the filipinos stood for liberty. but by then, the seed of this mentality was already germinating in the filipino consciousness.
ask any filipino today every time a visitor stays in their abode. the line is perennial: "pasensya na po heto lang po ang nakayanan namin," even how festive and grand they might have prepared.
then came down series of revolutions during american and japanese occupations. and like any other colonial stories, the natives become subjects to their own promise land. when this could have been fertile time for accumulating wealth and founding finance-sources, the filipinos, the natives, were instead struggling.
it was only the post-war era that the filipinos "almost" felt like they were living in this land as if their own. it was only during this era that they settled in accord, having the chance therefore, to build up their own wealth. Unluckily, the post-war era was turned into some strand of neo-colonialism, when it was the wealthy chinese and spanish descendants who have taken the merchant's and trader's role and positioned themselves thus, to greater access to both money and power.
the filipinos, as were the older times, were left middle, second-class and "indios", in their own native land. and these were the times when the now-lolos and lolas have begin their struggle for survival. the seed has grown by this time when most of them resolved to becoming mere working class citizens. they have worked hard and toiled flesh and blood only to bring in money to foreigners' pockets.
the lesson here is quite simple: train the filipinos to handle the machine, and train them well for that matter, abusing their concept of "sipag at tyaga" while the rich foreigners tool their kids with knowledge to handle and birth business empires.
and if we were to rank today's richest people in the Philippines, blah blah blah, they are heirs of chinese and spanish mestizos which have come to embrace becoming "Filipino" because they inter-marry, because they have already perpetrated such an immense wealth here.
the education system has done nothing but make the "poverty mentality" in filipinos worse. filipinos are prepared by universities and colleges to become working citizens. and now, they prepare them to become world-class professionals which is also read as bring-more-wealth-to-their-pockets. Since then, the Philippines has been exporting manpower to the pleasure of the rest of the world. only during the turn of the century did the Filipinos turn to become self-made entrepreneurs. it was already late.
the rise of social services for worker protection also came late.And although these institutions have encouraged or forced the working filipinos to save something for the sunset-days, the saving is not at all entirely dependable.
so there goes lola, ironically seating in small chair inside Quiapo church earning a meager 20 pesos from every church stopper, who doesn't even know how to pray and ask her to intercede for them, when it could have been her reaping days.
there she goes satisfied accepting what she believed as God's fate for her. or was it really? was it not a product of a long endured problem of non-education or miseducation or ill-preparation for a future?
and there goes lola, a product of an erroneous past, cladding in her arms a small notebook where she lists down all prayer requests from her customers.
i am moved in such a way that i always have this heart for the elders. looking at them and observing them never fail to jolt me. how agonizing it must be to live in such a condition at an old age?
her plot is similar to others. like this lola (which passed my recollection of the name), most still work to survive not only for herself but for her family to feed. it reminds me of the old couple i always see whenever i walk pass Espana to my university. the couple, perhaps abandoned by their family or perhaps they have no family at all, sells dailies, tabloids, candies and cigars to live by each day. and each day that i pass, i couldn't help but grasp. how unfortunate they must be? how cruel fate has destined them to such a horrible condition.
all of them reminds me of how lucky my own lolas or lolos were for not having experienced such misfortune, for not having passed unto us that gloomy stature. though, they might not be financially abundant, they were well taken care of in the same manner that they have reared us.
with this filthy-poor condition that they found themselves struggling, i can't help but set my eyes toward the making of a system where they thrived and unfortunately, still prevails.
to my mind they are a product of a live-by-the-day life or as best put by the pinoy saying "isang kahig, isang tuka." the plight of poverty in this country was so much that it even pushed for a worse scenario-poverty mentality, that is.
this can be traced as far as the Spanish colonial rule, when the friars would arrogantly teach out-of-context the beatitudes-- "blessed are the poor in spirit for they shall inherit the heavens" (Mark5:3). Highlighted was the poor so the friars collected usuriously lump sum of taxes and indolence. it went so for hundreds of years until the filipinos stood for liberty. but by then, the seed of this mentality was already germinating in the filipino consciousness.
ask any filipino today every time a visitor stays in their abode. the line is perennial: "pasensya na po heto lang po ang nakayanan namin," even how festive and grand they might have prepared.
then came down series of revolutions during american and japanese occupations. and like any other colonial stories, the natives become subjects to their own promise land. when this could have been fertile time for accumulating wealth and founding finance-sources, the filipinos, the natives, were instead struggling.
it was only the post-war era that the filipinos "almost" felt like they were living in this land as if their own. it was only during this era that they settled in accord, having the chance therefore, to build up their own wealth. Unluckily, the post-war era was turned into some strand of neo-colonialism, when it was the wealthy chinese and spanish descendants who have taken the merchant's and trader's role and positioned themselves thus, to greater access to both money and power.
the filipinos, as were the older times, were left middle, second-class and "indios", in their own native land. and these were the times when the now-lolos and lolas have begin their struggle for survival. the seed has grown by this time when most of them resolved to becoming mere working class citizens. they have worked hard and toiled flesh and blood only to bring in money to foreigners' pockets.
the lesson here is quite simple: train the filipinos to handle the machine, and train them well for that matter, abusing their concept of "sipag at tyaga" while the rich foreigners tool their kids with knowledge to handle and birth business empires.
and if we were to rank today's richest people in the Philippines, blah blah blah, they are heirs of chinese and spanish mestizos which have come to embrace becoming "Filipino" because they inter-marry, because they have already perpetrated such an immense wealth here.
the education system has done nothing but make the "poverty mentality" in filipinos worse. filipinos are prepared by universities and colleges to become working citizens. and now, they prepare them to become world-class professionals which is also read as bring-more-wealth-to-their-pockets. Since then, the Philippines has been exporting manpower to the pleasure of the rest of the world. only during the turn of the century did the Filipinos turn to become self-made entrepreneurs. it was already late.
the rise of social services for worker protection also came late.And although these institutions have encouraged or forced the working filipinos to save something for the sunset-days, the saving is not at all entirely dependable.
so there goes lola, ironically seating in small chair inside Quiapo church earning a meager 20 pesos from every church stopper, who doesn't even know how to pray and ask her to intercede for them, when it could have been her reaping days.
there she goes satisfied accepting what she believed as God's fate for her. or was it really? was it not a product of a long endured problem of non-education or miseducation or ill-preparation for a future?
and there goes lola, a product of an erroneous past, cladding in her arms a small notebook where she lists down all prayer requests from her customers.
a night with Kafka
after a night with kafka's metamorphosis, i am reminded of how a single incident in a family can turn out to be the center of everything, that it saps all attention and either ends up to cold relationship, depleted resources or both. what at first needs adjustment slowly becomes a burden later on and having each member of the family withstanding all the ill-effects. psycho-emotional even physical exhaustion leads even to more problematic relationship among the people involved, with of course the one who is really suffering bearing the most of guilt, disappointment and frustrations. and until it is lost in the creator's own perfect time, that's the moment everyone can truly move on and see what's really happening around. very much like, what happened to my family when mom got terribly ill.
---
you can grab kafka from projectgutenberg. this site archives downloadable eBooks for free.
---
you can grab kafka from projectgutenberg. this site archives downloadable eBooks for free.
Friday, November 07, 2008
What a week
Two just tendered resignation. The rest may be wanting but don't have the balls to initiate. Shall I follow? There may be reasons to stay, but much, much more are at stake: dealing with many many things that i won't otherwise deal with; and forcing to accept many many things that i won't otherwise accept, all in the name of passion, service, and love for Christ. I am not a bandwagon-er nor some follow-me kid. But when passion runs dry, it runs dry.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
3 in a row
On a roll of tissue papers
i wrote this
as i am about to sleep.
i remembered my
first encounters and
the functions of this
delicate piece--
a guy's most handy
companion after a filthy
of a job or a
girl's most reliable
pal after some cute
yet arrogant lad
leaves her off for
another
Like this tissue
it's a moment passing
no turning backs
just use and throw
just use and throw
until the roll is emptied
it'll always be fleeting
after a fatal blow,
off it goes to the bin
down with the memories
and all those
encounters.
----
thin ants
cascading
up & down
my wall
i recall
how elders
remind kids
to be
like ants,
saving for the
rainy days
now, it's
pouring hard
outside
i recall
the story of the
ants cascading
up and down
my walls
reminding me
how i failed
to save for the
rainy days
now
i am
broke.
---
this candle
now close
to "melting
down"
reminds me
of its use
to light the dark
night
when electricity
was far off from
man's ingenuity
or every time
it's blackout
while some
public school
geeks use it as
substitute for
floorwax
or some business
minded's packing
technique
while tonight
in my room
it witnesses
my dancing,
prancing
and filters
this wild scent.
i wrote this
as i am about to sleep.
i remembered my
first encounters and
the functions of this
delicate piece--
a guy's most handy
companion after a filthy
of a job or a
girl's most reliable
pal after some cute
yet arrogant lad
leaves her off for
another
Like this tissue
it's a moment passing
no turning backs
just use and throw
just use and throw
until the roll is emptied
it'll always be fleeting
after a fatal blow,
off it goes to the bin
down with the memories
and all those
encounters.
----
thin ants
cascading
up & down
my wall
i recall
how elders
remind kids
to be
like ants,
saving for the
rainy days
now, it's
pouring hard
outside
i recall
the story of the
ants cascading
up and down
my walls
reminding me
how i failed
to save for the
rainy days
now
i am
broke.
---
this candle
now close
to "melting
down"
reminds me
of its use
to light the dark
night
when electricity
was far off from
man's ingenuity
or every time
it's blackout
while some
public school
geeks use it as
substitute for
floorwax
or some business
minded's packing
technique
while tonight
in my room
it witnesses
my dancing,
prancing
and filters
this wild scent.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Monday, November 03, 2008
ramblings of a feel-like teacher
Dang! I was up the whole night, and here's what I've got myself into:
11/3/2008
There are times that I go on parading as if i was a demi-god before my students. I am flawless and near to perfection.
When I talk, it is as if I know what I am talking about. It is as if every word that flows out of my mouth cannot be void of wisdom. Sometimes, what I say becomes rules and they do not question. Sometimes, what I do not say, they simply do not notice.
Most of the time, I talk with arrogance. I talk as if what I say are profound truths that each of them has to subscribe to. But in effect, I do not know if they dig into their brains the truth or the lie in what I speak.
It is tiring. It is tiring to assume I know. But in each instance that I speak as if I know, I learn.
I learn that I am not perfect and that I can be humble to correct infront of my class, my errors
I learn that what I speak, I try to filter because I understand that the people will hear have the propensity to listen and perhaps learn from what I have to say.
I learn that what I share is life as I teach literature-a subject that teachers more than numbers or words but of kaleidoscope to view life.
I learn that I do not have control over the entire class's mood to listen, but somehow, crossing into thin air and into their brains some teaching that they may find relevant to apply in their life.
I learn to unlearn each time I step inside the classroom.
I learn that walking inside the classroom is always a humbling experience, because the moment you step inside the class, you do not own yourself but the class owns you.
I learn that before the class, you must speak because whatever you say or not, the entire room will listen.
I learn that in order to get the students' attention, which spans for a short time, you have to make them laugh.
I learn to embrace a calling far greater than monetary compensation, because making time to do something I would not otherwise do, entails sacrifice.
I learn that this sacrifice will be worth it, because inside the classroom I help build lives, I help lay the foundation of the future.
I learn that if only each young people will sacrifice a moment of their time, of their youthful vigor to teach what they have learned, it can create an impact to the future of this nation.
--
An educator hence is an artist, the idea is already there, the artist only tries to bring it out and build upon that idea.
Only, educators build upon destiny to destiny.
An educator is also an actor. He or she has to struggle internally and set aside some values in order to present a better holistic one. Only, the script is spontaneous, the stage is life and the story never ends.
--
How I got here, I do not know. I certainly believe it is part of a grand, majestic plan in my quest to answer the eternal question of living a sensible, rather than miserable, life.
Will I stay for long, I do not know still. But for as long as I have the burden, I will keep it. Because, if there will be something I will look forward to in the future when I look back to this day, it will have to be, the opportunity to inspire other people---to be different.
---
And for as long as I have this inkling to keep, I would go on parading as if I am a demi-God, trying to spur a change into the little sphere I have found myself blessed with.
11/3/2008
There are times that I go on parading as if i was a demi-god before my students. I am flawless and near to perfection.
When I talk, it is as if I know what I am talking about. It is as if every word that flows out of my mouth cannot be void of wisdom. Sometimes, what I say becomes rules and they do not question. Sometimes, what I do not say, they simply do not notice.
Most of the time, I talk with arrogance. I talk as if what I say are profound truths that each of them has to subscribe to. But in effect, I do not know if they dig into their brains the truth or the lie in what I speak.
It is tiring. It is tiring to assume I know. But in each instance that I speak as if I know, I learn.
I learn that I am not perfect and that I can be humble to correct infront of my class, my errors
I learn that what I speak, I try to filter because I understand that the people will hear have the propensity to listen and perhaps learn from what I have to say.
I learn that what I share is life as I teach literature-a subject that teachers more than numbers or words but of kaleidoscope to view life.
I learn that I do not have control over the entire class's mood to listen, but somehow, crossing into thin air and into their brains some teaching that they may find relevant to apply in their life.
I learn to unlearn each time I step inside the classroom.
I learn that walking inside the classroom is always a humbling experience, because the moment you step inside the class, you do not own yourself but the class owns you.
I learn that before the class, you must speak because whatever you say or not, the entire room will listen.
I learn that in order to get the students' attention, which spans for a short time, you have to make them laugh.
I learn to embrace a calling far greater than monetary compensation, because making time to do something I would not otherwise do, entails sacrifice.
I learn that this sacrifice will be worth it, because inside the classroom I help build lives, I help lay the foundation of the future.
I learn that if only each young people will sacrifice a moment of their time, of their youthful vigor to teach what they have learned, it can create an impact to the future of this nation.
--
An educator hence is an artist, the idea is already there, the artist only tries to bring it out and build upon that idea.
Only, educators build upon destiny to destiny.
An educator is also an actor. He or she has to struggle internally and set aside some values in order to present a better holistic one. Only, the script is spontaneous, the stage is life and the story never ends.
--
How I got here, I do not know. I certainly believe it is part of a grand, majestic plan in my quest to answer the eternal question of living a sensible, rather than miserable, life.
Will I stay for long, I do not know still. But for as long as I have the burden, I will keep it. Because, if there will be something I will look forward to in the future when I look back to this day, it will have to be, the opportunity to inspire other people---to be different.
---
And for as long as I have this inkling to keep, I would go on parading as if I am a demi-God, trying to spur a change into the little sphere I have found myself blessed with.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
post-sembreak
I woke up when moon starts to take its shift against the radiant sunlight. I could feel the late afternoon breeze as it sifts through my skin. It was a little cold, reminding me that the northeast monsoon is here to stay for a while.
I wasn't really feeling any excitement nor any boredom. It was just blatantly plain---plain as the the morning replaces night and night takes over the day.
There I was, lying on my small bed and thinking I was so small compared to the rest of the world. A day ago, I chanced upon this forwarded email quoted from Bob Ong's:
"Hindi lungkot o takot ang mahirap sa pag-iisa kundi ang pagtanggap na
sa bilyon-bilyong tao sa mundo, wala man lang nakipaglaban upang
makasama ka."
I shivered for a while after I read it. Then, I shrugged it off. I still have some days left before this brief semestral break ends to sulk on that simple yet poignant idea. And before I know it, I have done so much throughout the week. And one of them is rest--I took a much needed, much deserved rest even though I was compelled to stay here in Puerto.
Despite that inability to leave this island 306 nautical miles away from Manila, I still find consolation in the ordinariness of life. It's simplicity is becoming a learning deal for me. How I find myself in a Henry David Thoreau-like situation when he spent two years, two months and two days at Walden Pond to write Walden.
Of course, like him, I didn't intend to live like a hermit inside my room. I am merely enamored by all the reflections and subliminal undertakings. I was conversing with ideas. I was battling with perspectives. In my hands are the words I am grappling with.
to be continued...
I wasn't really feeling any excitement nor any boredom. It was just blatantly plain---plain as the the morning replaces night and night takes over the day.
There I was, lying on my small bed and thinking I was so small compared to the rest of the world. A day ago, I chanced upon this forwarded email quoted from Bob Ong's:
"Hindi lungkot o takot ang mahirap sa pag-iisa kundi ang pagtanggap na
sa bilyon-bilyong tao sa mundo, wala man lang nakipaglaban upang
makasama ka."
I shivered for a while after I read it. Then, I shrugged it off. I still have some days left before this brief semestral break ends to sulk on that simple yet poignant idea. And before I know it, I have done so much throughout the week. And one of them is rest--I took a much needed, much deserved rest even though I was compelled to stay here in Puerto.
Despite that inability to leave this island 306 nautical miles away from Manila, I still find consolation in the ordinariness of life. It's simplicity is becoming a learning deal for me. How I find myself in a Henry David Thoreau-like situation when he spent two years, two months and two days at Walden Pond to write Walden.
Of course, like him, I didn't intend to live like a hermit inside my room. I am merely enamored by all the reflections and subliminal undertakings. I was conversing with ideas. I was battling with perspectives. In my hands are the words I am grappling with.
to be continued...
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
The past
we are not defined by our past; we are prepared by our past
tests are not stumbling locks ;
rather stepping stones
perfectly crafted.
need i say more?
tests are not stumbling locks ;
rather stepping stones
perfectly crafted.
need i say more?
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Last Night @ Beans and Pages
I had a precious moment last night with my 2 of my closest friends here in Palawan. It was precious because we get to talk about what's happening in our lives. This might be a usual catch up things but I am glad because it happened right after this unexpected storm passed by my would-have-been quiet and simple life.
I couldn't, of course, reveal where our conversations led. But to me, being able to speak out my heart - what I have been keeping for quite a while - is an unparalleled relief. Out of this experience, I was able to note that life is made easy by friends who stand by your side in such a drastic moment.
And in unexpected turn out of events, we were all in the same plane. We realized that only after we started pouring out our hearts and minds. I am thankful though because I know that it was guided by the Spirit.
Before we called it a night, I had this most wonderful confirmation:
That no matter how things went - negative or positive - they always yield benefit. It's all but a matter of perspective - which window one sees through.
I ended up picking the pieces all over again. But this time, I am more resolute to face this more maturely - the very reason I was called to experience this.
----
Night's discovery:
1. Beans and Pages' Triple Cake taste so yummy.
2. Prospect to fall in love, yet again. heck, I am STILL with the same person. =)
3. Preparing for the BIG SHIFT next year. I am READY.
4. Confession. Acceptance - I vowed not to do it again.
I couldn't, of course, reveal where our conversations led. But to me, being able to speak out my heart - what I have been keeping for quite a while - is an unparalleled relief. Out of this experience, I was able to note that life is made easy by friends who stand by your side in such a drastic moment.
And in unexpected turn out of events, we were all in the same plane. We realized that only after we started pouring out our hearts and minds. I am thankful though because I know that it was guided by the Spirit.
Before we called it a night, I had this most wonderful confirmation:
That no matter how things went - negative or positive - they always yield benefit. It's all but a matter of perspective - which window one sees through.
I ended up picking the pieces all over again. But this time, I am more resolute to face this more maturely - the very reason I was called to experience this.
----
Night's discovery:
1. Beans and Pages' Triple Cake taste so yummy.
2. Prospect to fall in love, yet again. heck, I am STILL with the same person. =)
3. Preparing for the BIG SHIFT next year. I am READY.
4. Confession. Acceptance - I vowed not to do it again.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Forever
I wrote this 2 years ago, retrieved it from an old file and i just felt an impetus to post it.
Forever
Forever, I think of forever
But it does not exist
Neither do I
In my eyes were mystified avalanche,
Virulently cascading from
The chimney of the Alps
Restively churning, Turning away from
My non-existence
Forever, I think of forever
But the harder I think the more I cannot grasp
In my lips were words unspoken-
emblazoned across the mandibular orifice:
fine, dense but mutilating
Forever, I think of forever
Though I cannot not think about it
I struggle without finality
Its sound-firm, intense and unforgiving
Chisels across the globular channel of my ears
The sound so metallic recoils
Triumphantly against my stirrups
Cup-sized in my wintry palm
Is Forever- gliding along its fine line
Is its definition, Forever – the eternal,
the infinite – continues to mean
mystification of the body and the soul
adjunct to the rest of this
absurd, meaningless world
Forever
Forever, I think of forever
But it does not exist
Neither do I
In my eyes were mystified avalanche,
Virulently cascading from
The chimney of the Alps
Restively churning, Turning away from
My non-existence
Forever, I think of forever
But the harder I think the more I cannot grasp
In my lips were words unspoken-
emblazoned across the mandibular orifice:
fine, dense but mutilating
Forever, I think of forever
Though I cannot not think about it
I struggle without finality
Its sound-firm, intense and unforgiving
Chisels across the globular channel of my ears
The sound so metallic recoils
Triumphantly against my stirrups
Cup-sized in my wintry palm
Is Forever- gliding along its fine line
Is its definition, Forever – the eternal,
the infinite – continues to mean
mystification of the body and the soul
adjunct to the rest of this
absurd, meaningless world
found back love
I recently reinstated my old flame...
....READING
and it gets even better.
wee, i have in my hands coehlo's the witch of portobello
thanks VDVD
....READING
and it gets even better.
wee, i have in my hands coehlo's the witch of portobello
thanks VDVD
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Colin and others
In as much as the whole school felt down, i was also very upset with happened to colin. No one could be blamed but the organizers and tabulators, for they handle the results.
I led both.
As an oganizer, I could have seen that it could happen; as a tabulator, i could have altered some result to giver her an award.
But what struck me most was the lesson learned from what happened:
A vision needs forecasting--the possibility of what will actually happen should be carefully planned; the outcome expected should be.
To colin and her family, our apologies.
---
On another note, it pisses me off big time that there are people who thinks that thy are the center of the universe and that no matter how you try lay down all the opportunities possible, they still have some words against what you are doing.
Lesson learned: I am pissed off; I am disappointed. Now, I am mad.
---
Just last night, a new friend i was texting with suddenly asked me, are you happy there (referring to palawan)?
I texted back: Yes, I love volunteering my time and doing things for a cause. Except that lately, I am missing Manila so much that I wanted to go back.
----
Truth is i don't know where to get the gusto, the passion, back for it slowly dies down like a candle left in the open. And I can't find back the strength to cover me up, to save, at least, the few remaining wax that I have been trying to save.
I led both.
As an oganizer, I could have seen that it could happen; as a tabulator, i could have altered some result to giver her an award.
But what struck me most was the lesson learned from what happened:
A vision needs forecasting--the possibility of what will actually happen should be carefully planned; the outcome expected should be.
To colin and her family, our apologies.
---
On another note, it pisses me off big time that there are people who thinks that thy are the center of the universe and that no matter how you try lay down all the opportunities possible, they still have some words against what you are doing.
Lesson learned: I am pissed off; I am disappointed. Now, I am mad.
---
Just last night, a new friend i was texting with suddenly asked me, are you happy there (referring to palawan)?
I texted back: Yes, I love volunteering my time and doing things for a cause. Except that lately, I am missing Manila so much that I wanted to go back.
----
Truth is i don't know where to get the gusto, the passion, back for it slowly dies down like a candle left in the open. And I can't find back the strength to cover me up, to save, at least, the few remaining wax that I have been trying to save.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
From my trip to Manila, I learned:
1. I missed Manila and my room very much that I slept for almost 24 hours non-stop like what I used to do. Sleep is one of the best aspect of life, ironically though, we often miss the point.
2. When I and my two sisters went out to fix their passport for two consecutive days, I noticed that it saves time to ride a cab going to the destination as much as it is fun to ride in a jeepney going back home. The former keeps you fresh for an appointment, while the latter makes you all so tired for a refreshing nap.
3. Watching without preconceived judgment or bias makes one appreciate movies with very simple yet real-life-sensitive movies. It is very much like falling in love, which is to use: the heart or the head?
4. Going out with my brother to find an EENT specialist and visit his dentist made me feel like a real KUYA. I was doing all the talking--something my mom used to do before when I was younger.
5. Traveling at MRT with poetries from Cervantes awakens the city's sleeping, or perhaps revives its dying, soul brought about by excessive market capitalism.
6. Makati and Fort Global city's corporate-esteemed lifestyle awestruck me for its grandiosity but it never appeals to my deviant taste.
And for both 5 and 6, Good thing I read my Marx!
7. Friends. Friends. Friends--- once you're seated with them before coffee or a light meal, the world seems to stop and you get in touch with one part of your soul--that part which you often neglect but needs dire attention the most.
8. Meeting a stranger can be as exciting as riding an elevator. You'll never know which floor to go unless you press the button. Winkie :)
9. Walking with my lola along Recto, inside isetann and to Quiapo church made me realize how time swifts by so fast. Before, I was the one she used to walk in her arms; now, it's the opposite. And I thank God for this moment, that I took my time to ask her out. I'll never know. It may never happen again. But for as long as I was able to bank sweet memories with my lola, i'll never had regrets.
10. Gone will be trusted comrades, but the family will never be! In them rests the best investment one can have.
My frustrations, depression for Palawan, I turned into seeing the things i neglect in Manila---and now, with this trip, I was able to appreciate every bit of it.
I realized that life is not so much about the goals and the golds, but the small stuff that is so often neglected that makes it a complete package.
2. When I and my two sisters went out to fix their passport for two consecutive days, I noticed that it saves time to ride a cab going to the destination as much as it is fun to ride in a jeepney going back home. The former keeps you fresh for an appointment, while the latter makes you all so tired for a refreshing nap.
3. Watching without preconceived judgment or bias makes one appreciate movies with very simple yet real-life-sensitive movies. It is very much like falling in love, which is to use: the heart or the head?
4. Going out with my brother to find an EENT specialist and visit his dentist made me feel like a real KUYA. I was doing all the talking--something my mom used to do before when I was younger.
5. Traveling at MRT with poetries from Cervantes awakens the city's sleeping, or perhaps revives its dying, soul brought about by excessive market capitalism.
6. Makati and Fort Global city's corporate-esteemed lifestyle awestruck me for its grandiosity but it never appeals to my deviant taste.
And for both 5 and 6, Good thing I read my Marx!
7. Friends. Friends. Friends--- once you're seated with them before coffee or a light meal, the world seems to stop and you get in touch with one part of your soul--that part which you often neglect but needs dire attention the most.
8. Meeting a stranger can be as exciting as riding an elevator. You'll never know which floor to go unless you press the button. Winkie :)
9. Walking with my lola along Recto, inside isetann and to Quiapo church made me realize how time swifts by so fast. Before, I was the one she used to walk in her arms; now, it's the opposite. And I thank God for this moment, that I took my time to ask her out. I'll never know. It may never happen again. But for as long as I was able to bank sweet memories with my lola, i'll never had regrets.
10. Gone will be trusted comrades, but the family will never be! In them rests the best investment one can have.
My frustrations, depression for Palawan, I turned into seeing the things i neglect in Manila---and now, with this trip, I was able to appreciate every bit of it.
I realized that life is not so much about the goals and the golds, but the small stuff that is so often neglected that makes it a complete package.
She Thought
she thought the world was perfect
with a handsome prince coming
in all his crowning glory, clad in
his perfect shining armour--
but no matter how perfect the guy
seemed to be, he is human
all-to-human not to err
and she's hurt, trying to question why
why men are by nature polygamous?
and i couldn't answer! all i reasoned out
was that because women has that
enormous capacity to love
and she, too, is human--all-too-human
to love. to hurt. and to love back, again
and again, even if she's hurting
damn the guy, that's all i can say
for FR
with a handsome prince coming
in all his crowning glory, clad in
his perfect shining armour--
but no matter how perfect the guy
seemed to be, he is human
all-to-human not to err
and she's hurt, trying to question why
why men are by nature polygamous?
and i couldn't answer! all i reasoned out
was that because women has that
enormous capacity to love
and she, too, is human--all-too-human
to love. to hurt. and to love back, again
and again, even if she's hurting
damn the guy, that's all i can say
for FR
Thursday, August 14, 2008
A Poem for Me
Yesterday, I instructed my third year class to do a writing activity. Without them knowing what they will do, I asked them to cluster ideas about an object that they find amusing or that they find interesting. They have to describe or characterize that object. My second instruction was for them to write a name of any person who comes into their head or who they find interesting. Then, I asked them to write something about that person through the descriptions they made for the object.
PRESTO! One of them wrote something about... me:
Sir Jan
reminds me of the moon
daring a dark night, I find him
silent, inspiring, odd and weird.
I find him silent
in times of chaos and confusion
he is usually the last one to panic
he remains calm and stable
I also see him as inspiring
he always seems to have it
all figured out
he has smart answers for everything.
But I also see him
as weird and odd
he seems to be so different
from everybody
Like the moon
he gives light
in dark and confusing times
when we don't see clearly.
I am speechless.
Thanks, Jap.
PRESTO! One of them wrote something about... me:
Sir Jan
reminds me of the moon
daring a dark night, I find him
silent, inspiring, odd and weird.
I find him silent
in times of chaos and confusion
he is usually the last one to panic
he remains calm and stable
I also see him as inspiring
he always seems to have it
all figured out
he has smart answers for everything.
But I also see him
as weird and odd
he seems to be so different
from everybody
Like the moon
he gives light
in dark and confusing times
when we don't see clearly.
I am speechless.
Thanks, Jap.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Rain
one fine morning
before i entered my class
i was sitting in front
of my laptop
thinking, ruminating,
searching, seeking,
for what has been
and what will be
one fine morning
if found myself
trapped again in yet
another crossroad
where will i be
and what shall i do
in the next couple
of days, of months
and of years
one fine morning
time did not stand still
but continued to
tick and tack and
tick and tack,
filling the gap between
each moment
calling for a chance
to succumb
one fine morning
before i entered my class
i was sitting in front
of my laptop
thinking, ruminating,
searching, seeking,
then all of a sudden,
it rained.
before i entered my class
i was sitting in front
of my laptop
thinking, ruminating,
searching, seeking,
for what has been
and what will be
one fine morning
if found myself
trapped again in yet
another crossroad
where will i be
and what shall i do
in the next couple
of days, of months
and of years
one fine morning
time did not stand still
but continued to
tick and tack and
tick and tack,
filling the gap between
each moment
calling for a chance
to succumb
one fine morning
before i entered my class
i was sitting in front
of my laptop
thinking, ruminating,
searching, seeking,
then all of a sudden,
it rained.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
After 2 years, she's back
She held my hands, grasp it tightly, and put her soft lips on my cheeks.
It was two years when I last saw her. But it was just like yesterday when I last gazed upon her lovely face and touched her milky skin. Her mild scent hinted her presence back. She's back, after two years.
But it was just like yesterday, when, together, we talked until the wee hours of the morning and exchanged sms, and talked, and expressed the possibility of us becoming lovers, and talked.
She's back. I can talk to her again. Tell her how I regret the moment I had to make a choice and leave. Tell her I am sorry, for I wasn't ready to gamble on a love , so divine, so sweet, so effervescent. Tell her that I am ready to win her back. Tell her how I longed for the moment I could touch her, and hug her, and kiss her, again. How I waited for this moment I could say I love her, again.
She's back, and held my hands, grasp it tightly, and put her soft lips on my cheeks. Then, she whispered, "things may not always be the same."
Only for some time, Yes! she was back.
It was two years when I last saw her. But it was just like yesterday when I last gazed upon her lovely face and touched her milky skin. Her mild scent hinted her presence back. She's back, after two years.
But it was just like yesterday, when, together, we talked until the wee hours of the morning and exchanged sms, and talked, and expressed the possibility of us becoming lovers, and talked.
She's back. I can talk to her again. Tell her how I regret the moment I had to make a choice and leave. Tell her I am sorry, for I wasn't ready to gamble on a love , so divine, so sweet, so effervescent. Tell her that I am ready to win her back. Tell her how I longed for the moment I could touch her, and hug her, and kiss her, again. How I waited for this moment I could say I love her, again.
She's back, and held my hands, grasp it tightly, and put her soft lips on my cheeks. Then, she whispered, "things may not always be the same."
Only for some time, Yes! she was back.
Monday, April 14, 2008
A puff and a light
Half-cup of sanity
shivers with intense joy
and pain and hope, I
caress in deviance.
A puff and a light
do the trick,
but I am still cold
and muddy and naked.
And while half of the city
sleeps, my cute roomie's
down with it. They're traveling
a million light years-
dreaming and soaring, while
I tell myself to be
still and watch and kiss them
instead. But I'd rather gaze upon
the lonely skies; stare blank at
this luminous star--of white light
passing through the thinning
air. How on earth can I ever
reach it?
Shall I just continue
gazing?
My pillows nod; my clothes,
sticky with sweat and fears
and tears, let out a cry the heavens
could hear but was
voiceless and soundless in
hundred decibels.
Thoughts of her peeked in.
And him. She of long
braided hair standing and
weeping at the rear corner
of my misty, tired eyes. He who
whips her with a strange
black pole. They, of passion
and lust who always believed that
love is a panacea.
I could stance no more:
the lonely night he bade
goodbye, the stench in my
head, the blood in
my white linen.
Shall I take a small step
forward or a giant
leap backward?
Then again, she flashed back,
and the forty winks she slid
her tongue in my waiting
lips. How could I forget the
fire burning inside her?
T'was the same fire I used
to play, same fire that
lit my crappy, cold cell.
She was harassed; I was
forgiving. She thinks about him;
She. He. They were on my
mind, licking every inch of
my shattered bone; sucking dry
each trace of blood in my vein.
Whoever thinks about me
at that precious while breeds
insanity, just like the city
and half of it dreaming for the
night not to end.
A twitch in my brain, a fuck in
my nerve, and a cut in
my toe---were all I could lift
in a tormented fleet. For
a moment, I was once again
broken:
So I could yell at her
and him and them, stop it or I
shall wake up and break
them all up and juts
puff one more stick.
Tingling. Tickling was every
sensation as I smash her
left breast: skin-to-skin,
bare as bare. For we share
along with the sleeping
city, my fondness of her
flesh and my itching neck
and my still, glorious
thoughts of him.
While we were together,
sliding down the roof
towards the stained-wall
bathroom and out to
the small bloody gate of
my skimpy undershirt.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Task
A new kind of order is about to arise. And I have to keep myself up for it. Not because it demands me to move on to higher orders right away, but because, I felt the need to grow up especially in accomplishing my tasks.
Self-imposed: the task is imminent; the desire rages.
So I have not disciplined myself through the mechanism of the corporate world, must I retain limpid and buoyant? A new kind of order is about to arise. And before it imposes, I'll drink the cup.
But more than what order and structure demands, a culture of discipline is my daunting task.
Self-imposed: the task is imminent; the desire rages.
So I have not disciplined myself through the mechanism of the corporate world, must I retain limpid and buoyant? A new kind of order is about to arise. And before it imposes, I'll drink the cup.
But more than what order and structure demands, a culture of discipline is my daunting task.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
parang robot.
nakakatuwang pagmasdan ang
mga flight steward:
habang nagde-demo
kung pa'no dapat isuot
ang sinturong pangkaligtasan,
pa'no gamitin ang exit
sa rear ends,
pa'no isuot ang life vest
at oxygen mask.
para silang robot.
nagtataka lang ako:
anu kaya ang purpose nila,
maintindihan o mag-pacute?
para silang robot.
mga flight steward:
habang nagde-demo
kung pa'no dapat isuot
ang sinturong pangkaligtasan,
pa'no gamitin ang exit
sa rear ends,
pa'no isuot ang life vest
at oxygen mask.
para silang robot.
nagtataka lang ako:
anu kaya ang purpose nila,
maintindihan o mag-pacute?
para silang robot.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Oh! Death
One of my best pals called me up only to say that she just dreamt about me. The thing is the dream was so weird, I couldn't get it off my head.
In her dream, my mom called her. My mom, who passed away a year ago, revealed to her that I was dead! I died, allegedly from taking in a handful of pills. And my friend was like crying upon the hearing the could-have-been sad news. But another weird thing is that she didn't even shed a single tear. She was crying. But no tears. How the crap could that be possible?
I don't know what this means. But I am looking at the bright side.
I died to myself already.
In her dream, my mom called her. My mom, who passed away a year ago, revealed to her that I was dead! I died, allegedly from taking in a handful of pills. And my friend was like crying upon the hearing the could-have-been sad news. But another weird thing is that she didn't even shed a single tear. She was crying. But no tears. How the crap could that be possible?
I don't know what this means. But I am looking at the bright side.
I died to myself already.
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