caffeinism

Notes on Graduations

2009-04-06T23:29:00.000+08:00

Just this March, I have attended a couple of graduation and heard endless speeches. Two of which are graduations of people important to me, one is my youngest sister's high school graduation and the other is my brother's college graduation. I have had few recollections about their graduations that I wish to bring here.

On my sister's

1. I and my sister were the only people present because of distance; despite that, it wasn't so melodramatic because we enjoyed the moment. I accompanied her when she received her award as University Passer, having been admitted to my alma mater, the University of Santo Tomas, while, I also do the hosting job for the programme. I was a better 'kuya' than a host.

2. Lessons learned---"There is a seed of greatness in all of us" and "Remember who you are, not what the world made you but your identity in Christ." Looking back, if earlier on I firmly stood on my principles and followed what was right, I could have done better. The messages reminded me that I am called for a purpose greater than I am.

3. Graduations are not so much about the laurels received; more importantly, is the feeling that soared throughout the moment. That feeling is universal. It is about the joy of having endured education and the pride it brings to parents. So when I adapted my grade six graduation's tribute to parents of bringing up on stage during the finale song and handing over to them all diplomas and awards, I knew we would make a mark. That mark is indelible.

4. Having had graduations of my own, I mastered the feeling of "leaving the portals" and not so much about being left. Today, I take the other side. As my class leaves, I can't help but feel sad. The batch that I first take as my advisory, the batch that saw me progressed from zero to hero (lol), the batch that will always have a special place in my heart will now take a new journey. And my prayer is, as Robert Frost penned, for them to take the road less traveled by.

On my brother's

1. When every speaker says that commencement exercises mark not the end but the beginning of a journey to the real world university, I saw that this is a point in person's life of moving from idealism to realism. Education gets really tough and toxic, but the real world is worse. It might be a dog-eats-dog rat race but education should have prepared them for that Not so much about being ethical or professional, but the preparation should have been about getting better views about living life.

2. Proud. I am proud of my parents for raising us valuing school; but I am more proud of my brother for taking it seriously. Not all kids are predisposed to do that.

3. The ceremony ended shortly than what I expected. Transitions were fast. No adlibs. Strictly formal. I wonder how to change the whole graduation concept? lol

4. The speaker, which I forgot the name, but is the secretary of DOLE, paraded the government's commendable economic performace which safeguarded the country from major impact of the global economic crisis. He cited the availability of jobs abroad but offset it with opportunities for the graduating nurses --- opportunities to work in rural areas with allowance for the purpose of getting experience while waiting for their turn for exile.

---

Amidst the noise and haste with the limelight not on my feet, this day reminded how lucky I am for having my mom up on stage for the last time to share with me my award. I remember how hardheaded I was back then, how I rebeled from every system brought before me, how I choose what to chew and spit, how self-centered I had become and how at the last year in my college, I dropped the idea of running for honors just to prove a point. It was childish, pathetic and senseless

But maintaing a good start made all the difference. It saved me. My friends expected me to be there; My family thought I deserved it. Fast forward, that was the last moment, I have made my MOM proud.

Agitation

2009-03-25T16:42:00.002+08:00

Summer is here, no doubt! The heat scorches; the sun burns. Elsewhere in the Philippines, I do not know. But here in Palawan? I would rather stay at home or in the office or in my friend's place. It is that hot I would also find myself agitated most of the time. That's why I seldom smile. That's why I'd rather walk alone or be alone. I can be infectious. And I don't want that to happen.

Nonetheless, I dream. I drift to the north of this spear-shaped island. I want to go to El Nido or Cuyo or Coron. I have been here for almost 2 years and unfortunately, I haven't seen those places yet because every time the team goes to those places, I am out of town, usually in Manila or somewhere. But I'd love to go those places. Not because I have been hearing good things about them, but it is because I simply want to experience traveling and exploring. I want to get lost and wander like a child. I want to feel nature at its best.

One day, I'd go to these places. And what better sight will it be when I have somebody else's palm on mine.

when I have my time back...

2009-03-23T20:08:00.001+08:00

I'll turn this into a blogging site about palawan and about teaching in palawan; when will i ever have my time back?

Where's temper coming from?!?

2009-01-28T05:01:00.002+08:00

Dr. John Maxwell writes, elsewhere:

"Sooner or later, a man, if he is wise, discovers that life is a mixture of good days and bad, victory and defeat, give and take.
1. He learns that it doesn't pay to be a too-sensitive soul, that he should let some things go over his head.
2. He learns that he who loses his temper usually loses out, that all men occasionally have burnt toast for breakfast, and that he shouldn't take the other fellow's grouch too seriously.
3. He learns that carrying a chip on his shoulder is the easiest way to get into trouble, that the quickest way to become unpopular is to carry tales of gossip about others, that buck-passing always turns out to be a boomerang, and that it doesn't matter who gets the credit so long as the job gets done.
4. He learns that most others are as ambitious as he is, that they have brains as good or better, that hard work, not cleverness, is the secret of success.
5. He learns that no one ever gets to first base alone, that it's only through co-operative effort that we move on to better things.
6. He realises (in short) that the 'art of getting along', depends 98% on his own behaviour toward others.

----Wherever this was lifted from, it sure did make my day.

It's official, I am TAKEN

2009-01-04T20:56:00.002+08:00

Come 31st December, I sealed my heart with my bucksy:

Opening bucksy was like tasting caramel machiatto for the first time, hot, sweet and creamy in the palate.

When our eyes met, I swear it was heaven. I can't wait to glide the pen that comes with her upon her smooth, fair skin--

And the words will
surely fall sublime.

And this...

Together, we will...

I on her, and she on me.

home for the holidays

2008-12-22T21:39:00.000+08:00

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.

conversation with ryan

2008-12-18T06:51:00.000+08:00

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.

overload weekend

2008-12-15T02:50:00.000+08:00

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.

Yebba! They did it again.

2008-12-12T07:56:00.000+08:00

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!

Teacher's Day!

2008-12-10T05:45:00.003+08:00

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.

pambahay

2008-12-09T02:45:00.000+08:00

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!

Mutya-tya

2008-12-02T12:32:00.001+08:00

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.

on change

2008-11-27T07:28:00.000+08:00

"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.

From Obscurity to Certainty pt.3

2008-11-24T02:25:00.003+08:00

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?

From obscurity to certainty pt.2

2008-11-22T07:49:00.000+08:00

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.

From obscurity to certainty pt.1

2008-11-19T05:11:00.004+08:00

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.

A Conversation

2008-11-18T05:12:00.004+08:00

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?

The day i almost died, err, got hit

2008-11-17T10:21:00.003+08:00

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.

watching this lola and a snap in a past

2008-11-16T06:44:00.002+08:00

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.

a night with Kafka

2008-11-16T06:21:00.001+08:00

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.

What a week

2008-11-07T05:28:00.000+08:00

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.

3 in a row

2008-11-05T05:23:00.000+08:00

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.

pissed.

2008-11-04T04:43:00.000+08:00

i was close to bursting,
thank God i contained it.

it's not easy to be a teacher.

ramblings of a feel-like teacher

2008-11-03T02:34:00.001+08:00

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.

post-sembreak

2008-11-02T18:19:00.010+08:00

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...

post-sembreak nausea

2008-11-02T13:16:00.000+08:00

am going back to my old blog: CAFFEINISM

The past

2008-10-07T16:23:00.001+08:00

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?

Last Night @ Beans and Pages

2008-10-04T16:25:00.001+08:00

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.

Forever

2008-10-02T16:48:00.001+08:00

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

found back love

2008-10-02T16:43:00.001+08:00

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

Colin and others

2008-09-28T16:53:00.001+08:00

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.

From my trip to Manila, I learned:

2008-09-14T16:57:00.001+08:00

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.

She Thought

2008-09-14T16:54:00.001+08:00

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

A Poem for Me

2008-08-14T16:59:00.002+08:00

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.

Rain

2008-08-11T17:01:00.001+08:00

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.

After 2 years, she's back

2008-07-27T17:05:00.001+08:00

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.

A puff and a light

2008-04-14T20:04:00.002+08:00

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.

Task

2008-04-03T22:10:00.005+08:00

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.

parang robot.

2008-03-27T11:09:00.005+08:00

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.

Oh! Death

2008-03-10T00:00:00.005+08:00

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.

Cellular Cruise II: Notes and Denotations

2007-12-31T15:20:00.002+08:00

A cruise on mental repercussions

I.
Life is but fair. We undergo situations that hone us. Tests are meant to shape us. But before we are shaped, we are crashed and pulverized first so that in the end we'll stand triumphant - picking up the pieces to make us whole again, able to do what others did to us. Need not to effort for a vengeance.

II.
Mike Murdoch-make your everyday a masterpiece momentum--moving without the slightest effort. It wasn't the perfect birthday. It wasn't as if I expected nor longed for that day to come. But when everyone who knew you seemed excited about making you feel that it's your special day and that you are especial, even for that one fine day, who wouldn't be moved?

I am not big on birthdays, though I am not appalled at the site of cakes and candles, I am sick about being reminded that I would eventually grow old--in numerical terms.

It was sheer semantic that we have to embrace ageing because there seemed to be a consensus that everyone has to go 1 notch at a time in the mundane world of getting older. It was as if the biological manifestation weren't enough, we overzealous and order-freak humans even padded the process up to affirm yet another status we assume.

III.
I dropped the four year old drama of the self, doubting each perplexing reality. I embraced what I hated and questioned what I earlier marveled at. Clear to the ocean's bed, each facet I have eagerly devoured on are the nightmares that now consume me. Embittered, I rebelled against myself. Unhappy, I crucified myself with all anxieties. Clueless, I sauntered my way out of the labyrinth to no avail. I felt so STUPID.

Now that I am building on new grounds, trying to recapture what in my early days have been intimately fed to me. I zeroed in the chance that it'll be harder for me to digest the marrow as it is frustrating to sip from an empty cup. Gradually, I am reorienting my sight.The system much needing an overhaul now gets its dire needed attention.

IV.
Hours from now, we'd be back to Puerto Princesa City. The 5 days I've spent in Cebu was a reordering of perspective, reminiscing of experiences, and bonding moment. Cebu is a nice place. Found it to be an eclectic mixture of Baguio and Manila.

V.
When I look into your eyes, I want to see my image. Though my eyes are blind, my heart would pierce into your soul's sadness and solitary longings. Reaching to your bosom, love conquers lust. Until we meet again. Until your soft parched lips find its way back home to mine.

Celullar Cruise I: Five Poems

2007-12-30T14:22:00.002+08:00

A cruise on mental repercussions

I.
What am I supposed to
do with a love i have
never found yet?

I know it's within
me, wanting to
break free,

but is always
captive to
fear.

II.
I am highlighting the moment:
Ours is a friendship not dictated by force.

III.
Tonight I am losing grip,
and I could hold on to no one
except God.

In this moment of uncertainty,
I cast my doubts aside and bank
on my faith in HIM.

IV.
DEATH-a sinister,
perhaps a nasty traitor
to the fountain of anima.

Dashing a little particle
of its fine, well-crashed feather,
it looms even to the tiniest
of holes and the deepest
of trenches.

And if only he could listen,
he'd tell you how much
he longed for those unkind
words to be spoken.

But he can't do it now,
and even before.

For who would have the guts
to ask someone to speak
what he wants to hear?
That would be demanding!

DEATH is a universal
truth, no one can fully fathom
until some one goes away.

And it will still remain,
undeniably.

V.
Ray of light enveloped
me cold,

surging, flirting through
my veins.

Second later, felt I'm in a
deep trance.

Piercing hard around
my destiny,

was a misty cold air
breathing fire.

Couldn't move. Numb, in a
deep trance.

Of Rare Kind, A Generation To Extinction

2007-11-09T19:50:00.001+08:00

we are of a rare kind
a generation close to
extinction, fighting a battle
without deathly armors,
facing a world of pluralism.
zilch authority.
no common worldview.
pestered by the status quo,
we trail blaze to seek
new answers to old questions
and more questions
to impending answers.
new routes, we explore
spelunking to the deepest
of the earths, and diving
the bottom of the oceans.
the yesteryears see us so
indifferently, without sense
neither sensibility.
indifferent, we are branded,
so closely identified to apathy.
failed they are to realize,
internalize even, that we
stand up to standards
we call our own; that we
simply perceived, gone are
the ways of the yesteryears
to approach present
dilemmas; and that what
we seriously need is a
dialogue of faith, and
respect of differences.
for we are of a rare kind,
a generation close to
extinction, thriving not
for distinction but to make
things better, at least,
far better than we've
found it, far not bitter
from the legacy of the past.

vanilla skies & re-creation

2007-11-06T19:18:00.000+08:00

i soared beyond the vanilla skies,
glided along the sticky edges
of a sundae cup, and found
meaning in solitude.
lest, i invoke the parameters of
mt. sinai to siphon off
tablets of clay-injecting me
a sense and self-worth:
i will be a new creation,
again.

RANTING (raw/unedited/experimental)

2007-11-04T14:41:00.000+08:00

I am so used to doing different things before. One good thing about stopping for a while and reliving some moments is that you get to compare what you were before and what you have become. I guess, that's basically the essence of introspection. What Socrates called self-evaluation is a much needed thing that everyone has to at least do once in a while.

Funny, since the time I got down from the plane last Saturday for a week-long break, all I did was to take time to check on myself. It might crossed your mind, "it's about me again." Ahem! Not for some narcissistic reasons but heck, don't I deserve to slow down and think about myself just for once? It's not everyday that I get to assess where I am and what am doing. Though it's pretty much obvious here since almost 90% of this blogger is about eternal, cyclical rantings.

Perhaps lately, I have so ranted about a number of things. I don't have any defense because it's one of the few things that I either just got used to doing or simply love. Of course, whether you like reading about my rantings or not is irrelevant. Just like you, I somewhat disgust myself for failing to overcome this side of me. You see it's a good thing that I don't get to blog often, at least, I also don't rant that much. chuckle. chuckle.

Hahahaha ranting (while looking at some ehem!). Before I went home, Joyce and I met at Coffee Bean. It was actually a quick decision after we just saw each other online. She asked me to go out. And since I was pretty bored because I was alone in the house (thanked God I didn't falter to the flesh's utmost desire!), I put on a shirt and trousers then went off.

Point being is that in moments like this that I am very much ALONE traveling, I am not quite used to, yet. I mean these are moments that I get to think more about myself and reflect, then rant. In fact, I despise being alone while in a crowd. Perhaps I just view the world as a stage where I perform. And with the stage fright that I have... Imagine how hard it is for me to mingle with the rest of the world.

The moment I stepped down from the FX, I immediately went off to browse some books over Fully Booked's shelves. I had to wait for Joyce, who came in shortly after. Woah! When I saw her, it seemed she got smaller, which of course I immediately withdrew from commenting. Until she herself blurted "you seemed to have grown taller". With utter disbelief, I replied, "oh come on! you seemed to have vertically shrunk." (Not the actual words of course). We laughed then went to have our coffee.

Alright. Alright. I know I am going somewhere else. I just had an impulse to write down what really transpired that day as some sort of a record. The bottom line really is that our conversation is reduced to a not-so-unfamiliar world of ranting: our pan-idealism against the unforgivable reality, our theoretical foundations versus hard-core science, and our past lives (not to mention how we come to embrace the destinies that await us. The last part, I quite got some goose bumps.

So here, about ranting! (finally. my apology) I just have two points.

First, ranting makes you look at the world negatively, perceived reality as something incoherent with your own perception of things. In a way, it is very much subjective. It is very much like when I get to touch on subjects like frustrations and depressions. I pour out my thoughts as it would rain cats and dogs. Most of them substantial, but totally unaware, it's often my narrow-minded outlook.

The Oxford Dictionaries define rant as to speak or shout at length in a wild, impassioned way. The word traces its origin from the Dutch ranten, referring to 'nonsense talk, rave'. To rant is also synonymous with the verbs vociferate, pontificate, and bellow among others.

To prove point 1, I'd explore on the words impassioned and pontificate. Most bloggers, I observed makes ranting a habit in their own spaces. It's about their own reflection on basically everything under the sun. Sometimes, well-written reflections, but more often a piece of wordplay throwing childish tantrums pointed toward almost all existing societal institutions.

Here, let me inject properly the word "impassion." Passion, more often, is always associated with the term emotion. Out of passion, comes out mostly from experiences, especially those undesirable ones which have evoked some very strong emotional response to the person involved. A clear example would be the time I blogged about how I hate how people have come to tarnished the concept of coffee houses into a gossiping center. For me it's a disgust to the intellectual atmosphere that coffee houses should embody. In one way, I felt that like any other commodity, it was commercialized. And yeah blame it to the workings of the capitalist! This posed a very good example of how I've responded emotional-turned-intellectualized to a stimuli brought about by the recent mushrooming of coffee houses. Impassioned I am to say the words I wasn't even supposed to have blurted out.

Next, pontificate? Oh God! The term actually originated from the Catholic Church. The term meant to express "one's opinions in a way considered annoyingly pompous and dogmatic" (Oxford again). When one rants, especially if directed towards a certain institution or company or a particular person that has caused trouble, irritation, or dissatisfaction, annoyance, and even nuisance, the RANT-er may have the tendency to assume an all-knowing stature, perhaps an omniscient point of view. I must say it is kind of arrogant to have "textual-ized" what one has directly experience in the sense that it is focused entirely on how the rant-er was put into a very much awkward, frustrating or unforgivable situation. It's more of like a payback time, without the actual person or entity involved knowing. (Funny, isn't it?) Oh yeah, pontificate! It is very much like when the the Church assumes the greater role as the sole harbinger of knowledge and wisdom. They tend to say this and that. Until the time came that a man raised a question which almost brought down the whole institution. Bottom line, the ranter becomes the center of the Universe.

Second and last point is that, ranting per se poses an assessment of a problem but NEVER is the solution to that. Perhaps an endless enumeration of ending the enigma may ensue, yet that will only serve as a quick emotional response. It's like when you get to entangle yourself with a heated argument. And with uncontrollable sudden surge of blood in its streams, you become flared up and enunciate a litany of sort. What better way to define ranting, thus, but a self-expression derived from a strong emotional outburst.

And as we ended up our conversation. I got the chance to situate in a broader spectrum the issue on ranting. Perhaps, it's a great great tool for evaluation that furthers situate the ranter to look inwardly at the same time outwardly, since he or she may be directly involved or attached to whatever he or she rants about. I, for so long has been ranting about my sense of purpose, my own emancipation, my definition, and my own viewpoint of reality. At one point, I processed everything to my mind up until I was unconsciously building up my own identity. I grasped what I want and what I don't want. And I've known myself better based from how I acted or reacted upon any situation. So, as pessimist as this whole thing may sound about ranting, I can say it helped me somehow...

I am just at a breaking point, where I seen a crises of sort--the crises to have some balls to ACT and stop WHINING like a kid!

Divine Sweets

2007-10-15T18:29:00.000+08:00

I am seated at one of the local cafes here in Puerto Princesa, the newly emergent better choice of the only two cafes, so far. I am here to finish up my exams due this week until the end of October. I am little pissed off at myself because I can't muster the tenacity to seat down like this and do what I am supposed to do-the very thing where I get paid. Honestly, I have back logged for almost a week by now. I am a week late of the mastery exam, and two days, and counting, of the periodic exam. On top of this I still have to consolidate my class records. By consolidate, I meant, filling up the sheet with the names of my students and their grades. Other than the grade sheet, I also have to finish up a little research work I was tasked to do as per my research assistant assignment to the recently hired school consultant. It was a laying the foundation kind of thing. From the time, Ms Consultant left, the only thing I have done is to do the reading. Argh! Meaning, I still have to work on consolidating the materials and putting everything on paper... within... Guess what? 24 Hours.

I admit I was a little lax the past days, weeks... Err, over a month by now since the convergence. And correction it's not little. I am geared up for a heavy, hefty coping. Well, I would be proud to enumerate a multiple number of reasons that has accounted for this laxity cum inefficiency hovering over my psycho-disturbed thinking. Mind you, the reasons are valid as that of entering inside the classroom usually unprepared, relying heavily on the wisdom of the Spirit. Lucky Me!

Just this morning, I had consumed my time assuming the role of an adviser slash concerned citizen of the nation. I made a little lecture of what awaits them after High School. And clear as the sunny skies this morning, I told them they might end up as call center agents or worst, a bunch Japayukis or a wife of a foreigner striding along the streets of Puerto Princesa, or security guards and house maids. This happened to some of my grade school classmates. Oh God! It could very much happen to them considering the current rate of unemployment and underemployment in the country, which could, in a logical projection manifested in the present political status quo, go on for another couple of years. I also emphasized to these kids how important their preparation for college is. If they really want to go somewhere else, now is the most opportune of time. I tell you, I took the extra mile consuming my time to stress out something of major importance -- to say the most how the rest of the class is hindering the other half to attain where they are supposed to be right now--soaring and knowing more than what they have right now. A little selfish, or more so devilish, but point of the matter is, they have to help each other out because they are so behind compared with the rest of the world. In this Information Age, it is really a crime not to know!

From backlogs to lectures, I admit it... bottom line is I might be a little frustrated of what's going on right now. I am pissed off at myself for being so dense and fragile. Or perhaps from the little to zero output that I have since I accepted this thing because of trying to embrace the concept of Hell, err, teaching I mean. Funny thing is when I embraced this job because it is the supposedly only way for me to survive here, I ended up not doing the thing I was supposed to do that it slipped of my hand and now is assigned to somebody else. Oh where will I situate myself now? I have been directed into a line that is oh so verdant in the coming years but is oh so annoying at this moment.

But i think, the more relevant question will be--WHAT'S THE F*CKING WRONG WITH ME! Can anyone out there tell me, please?

In Captive

2007-10-12T23:43:00.006+08:00

In my one last desperate attempt to look, I’ve found myself weeping the way I thought I would never do. This was not me. But the tiny drops of tears, I feel them real as each tear promenaded its path along my face. How sad! That at that very moment I’ve wished I held on strong, I was released in the midst of a wide, empty space. How disappointing! That at the instance I thought I was owned, I am all at once freed. How could it be that though liberation seemed much like a panacea, it’s saddening and frustrating to know that after a little while, it is just another, captivity?

desynthesizing sickness

2007-10-09T19:47:00.005+08:00

temperature rising
over and underfleeting feeling
afloat several seas
feasting behind sheets
fasting upon glories
heat waves after
zero to negative
beyond comforts and
sheer protection
immuno at level
low tolerance

After a while

2007-09-29T15:00:00.004+08:00

The clock ticked almost light year before he was able to pressed-pound the surface of the black-coloured keys again-when his thoughts glided with the letters and the letters created a visual, perceptible image of his thoughts.

The past weeks were a little hectic than usual. It was as if work equaled life and life meant work. The two words merged to the point that he rendered himself an automaton deliberately surrendering himself a slave to a Master.

A Question

2007-08-21T18:52:00.002+08:00

where am I?

Cloth for Nothing

2007-06-18T12:55:00.002+08:00

There's so much to say of a story that no one bold enough dared to speak. To some it's a casualty. To others it's a feat. Doubtless though it remains, the story was etched in the hands of time. Gone with the swift, gentle blow of the wind. Kept silenced forever by the guardian of the night.

This moment,
I write the saddest line.

I rummaged it up
from a dirt-laden,
stockpiled pieces of cloth.

I used to wear them
once even felt so
relaxed on my bod.

In fact, I used to look
good on them.

I loved to flaunt them,
as a calvin klein
or a dkny hunk would.

The skimpiness
of the cotton fabric
touts my slender fit.

How i admired it,
plus adored and deified!

Now stained and blooded,
ripped and tattered,
I'll use it for the last time

Just to sort of remember
that the saddest line
was once the Happy one.

Boring Class Wears Prada

2007-06-13T20:41:00.003+08:00

Class was boring this morning. I was somewhat lethargic. I didn't know the exact the reason why. I was thinking if it's about the other one leaving today or I am just basically feeling languished.

I felt I was babbling. And I don't make sense. If I did, maybe my class didn't understand my discussions.

Oh crap.

One thing I disgust is to be caught unprepared in front of a crowd. Though those people in front of me are 4 years my junior, and they basically may not have any effing idea of what's running inside my head, it's an awful feeling that I was like taking baby steps trying to make sense.

I am not really ranting here but my God, I was making a way to reach out because I will be spending my time with these kids for ten full months, and at this point I am like lost child in the wilderness.

On the other side though, what I am doing right now is pretty much exciting.

For one, I am exercising something I have often shrugged off before - to talk in front of people. I am looking at this as some kind of a training, some kind of an obstacle course I have to pass thru to reach a certain end. Not bad. Let's just say, I am like trying to improve myself in within a structure that is compatible with my capacity. Argh. That's pretty bad. But oh well, that's just it. I have to do something about it.

Another is that I am liked involved in a science project-experiment. I as the scientist and my students, the hamsters.

Hmm. Nasty.

But why not? This is the first time I going to teach seriously. This is the first time I am going to handle an advisory class. This is my chance of becoming an, err, a mentor. Big words for a growing kid.

I resolved that bottomline, changes that I want to make for the future lie in the input that I gambled in feeding on tomorrow's generation. Yikes. So much for someone who's internal struggle is bigger than what it appears to be. So much for my patriotic, love-of-country side.
I may not know what's going on inside my students' heads. But somewhat, somehow, I want to be part of it. Take a peek on it. Hold it. Perhaps, control it. So devilish, but so like me.

Darn, I watched the Devil Wears Prada the other day. I found myself understanding the world better. Simply put, there are things that we do not want to do and there are things that we are compelled to do because we have to. Our emotions, our interests become irrelevant because we're left with no other choices but to take what is already before us.

What we don't understand is that though we are just being pushed to do something, we are learning throughout the process. The way may be hard. The road may be very steep. Still, in the process we don't actually lose. In fact, we end up with our own gain.

The world we live in is so demanding, like Miranda. So cunning. So controlling. Andy succumbed to Miranda's will simply because she's her boss. Andy hated it. In fact, she was ranting like hell. But as she ranted more, she achieved more that eventually Miranda clandestinely liked the way she worked. Miranda even chose her to go with her to France over a more seasoned employee.

Andy eventually loved her work. Or let's just say she was consumed by every nitty gritty of her job. She let herself be dominated by her boss until a life of her own vanished into thin air. Only then did she realize, after she had gained almost everything she never wanted that there are more important things than that-her relationship with her boyfriend. After her character developed throughout the "tests" she went through, was she able to get a life of her own and gain her dignity.

Ah. Sweet plot. True enough, no pain, no gain.

The Destiny of a Paperboat

2007-06-08T20:00:00.004+08:00

Work is the absolution from pain, an escape even from
the menial of burdens, and a temporal release from a
baggage of pestering thoughts.

Work officially started last monday. It was a
hodgepodge of emotions that I felt. I was excited at
one point since I can now channel some repressed
emotions in favor of doing a handful of jobs. There was
a struggle at the other side, whether I am doing what I
am destined to do. I believe that I am meant for
something else.

And I have to content myself that this is just a means
to my end. An end that remains unthinkable at the
moment.

Right now, I am teaching. I took. Nah. I was assigned
to take part-time teaching load in the school that the
organization I am currently affiliated with manages. By
the way, it is a Christian school. Which perhaps gives
you a drift that I am working for a Christian
organization.

And I am beginning to be proud of it. Why beginning?
Because it took me quite some time to dig into the
conduits of my brain and accept that I am somewhere
across the far-flung area of the Philippines, took a bold
step to search for a territory totally unfamiliar to me,
and pushed the limits of an internal philosophical
debate to revert back where I began: the facet of my
faith.

Going back to the assigned thing. It wasn't really my
cup of tea to handle a boardmarker and strike it on the
white board to reiterate that a subject always agrees
with its verb in number, or that writing any research
paper requires you to have a topic first. It wasn't my
choice. But I don't have any other choices because
somehow, somewhat I have to earn a meager sum
here in the other side of the world in order to sustain
my deviance.

Let me clarify that point. It's not that I don't have any
choice at all. That would be too pitiful of me to
become. I don't have any choice because I am trying
to reconciliate a choice that is purposeful. To leave,
therefore, and go back to Manila and embrace a
callcenter-ish bread and butter rests afar my
imagination.

Now I could say I am pretty much enjoying what I am
doing here. Or well, trying to enjoy? Or making myself
believe that I am enjoying. Whatever. Point is at least
there is something that I am keeping myself busy with.
The operative word here is BUSY.

Just like an empty trash bin, an empty time is likely to
be filled by clutters. In fact, at the moment they start
to flux, it would be barely possible to out-breath them.
The freer the time, the more chances of looking back,
tracing back, and mulling over things passed. Things
that will NEVER ever get back.

A logical, thinking mind would say that it is so pathetic
to just sit down on an empty corner and to savour the
emptiness induced by the turbulent waves of time.
PATHETIC. So it is. But could it be that staying without
any reason at all is pathetic as being suaded by the
most irrelevant of experiences and the top among the
me-wants-to shrug it off phases in life?

Which leads me to what and where I am right now. I
am piece of paperboat drifting and drifting across a
tranquil ocean whose depth remains unmeasured and
whose temper will always be vulnerable. I am a piece
of paperboat ambling amidst the vastness of the
ocean, trying to seek for an island which will finally
quench my longing--to finally find a place I will call my
HOME.

One Cold Night

2007-06-01T19:21:00.003+08:00

There was no cooling system in sight. Not even a fan was at a-hand’s-grasp to relieve what supposedly had overtaken my body. Funny! It was a summer night. But it felt like it was seven months after. I could still hear the feathered-creature humming outside my windows. They muddled with the strings the almost un-heavenly chorale of cicadas produce. They all confuse my senses more.

Should I shift my attention to the numbing cold or in protecting my ears from that discordant sound?

Coping WITH (not UP)

2007-05-18T07:21:00.003+08:00

"What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger"
-Friedrich Nietzsche

A stab with a knife is more tolerable than a loved one's intentional (or unintentional) hurting. The pain it causes exceeds the boundary of emotions; the physical gets terminally ruined.

After my mom's parting, after my rethinking of what to do with this effing life, after undergoing a depressive state, I wasn't ready to find out that another revelation would blast me to bleed-profusely.

I would have ended it instantaneously; but I was so masochistic to do so. I savored its venom, even dried the fang.

And in the process of sticking with it, I started to get a grasp of reality:

That second chances are imaginary attempts to recover what was not originally there.

That if one could hurt himself, other people can even surpass in greater height that self-inflicted pain.

That holding on to some one, whatever the connection may be, is like waiting for a rain in the midst of drought. It's empty. It's vain; and,

That I take pleasure in being hurt, even bliss in hurting myself more.

And if this is my last chance of coping, why not take the risk?

Hurt me more...

PointBlank

2007-04-21T16:19:00.003+08:00

Many times, silence is my escape.
But rarely, silence has been my refuge.
My thoughts haunt me.

---

Pass the gust of the cold desolate shadow,
I've struck the golds and writhed with perpetual wallow.

Dark as the night whispering thru my ears,
I've stood still, covered by the primeval beast.

I remained wounded by the heat of an open fire,
clasping, grasping, running out of breathe.

Coffee sip

2007-03-17T21:48:00.003+08:00

is not just about taking inside your gastronomic bag the blend of that fine, pure liquaeous substance pressed from a dark-brownish bean, of that steamed extremely white milk (whether fat-free or not), and of that glucose-enriched crystals

is beyond the sheer pleasure of urgently satiating caffeine-deprivation

is beyond the sheer pain of having to wait to get a caffeine fix.

is about conspiring with time and rhyme with its tick and tack while slowly filling your senses with its potential- the rich aroma haled profusely inside your nostrils, the feverish-like temperature it emits to your palm, and the petite sight of its miniature scale (or depending on the size of the cup preferred)

instantaneously may lead you to a ripped, burnt tongue. You don't have to be reminded with that because coffees are always pre-cautioned to be hot. Worst thing you get is the failure of noticing the best that coffees are made of.

Babblings.

2007-03-15T20:40:00.001+08:00

The rivers' started turning dry; your lips, getting burnt by the scorching hot wind. Scarced by water and plastered by the dust, would you let yourself suffer more? To whom shall they be? To the soul who's ever-longing, listening to those heartbeat faraway in a distant shelf. Or to the one you yearned for a million light years, but shows no sign of returning? Are you waiting for your haughtily self-proclaimed saviour? Or to the one who stands mightily to self-worth? Grey skies' far from returning. The mist to quench you un-dry's still at a point of no return. Pick-up or you shall never have the chance again.

Geared Up for a Change

2007-03-12T03:20:00.001+08:00

I could use the hands of time to plunge deep into the seat of my memories and unlock the messages therein lies. Veritably at my own predilections, I could turn the tide into my favor and exhaust it 'til it summons for more oxygen to achieve equilibrium.

But in the past, I succumbed even to most finicky of whatever lies inside the corners of my mind. I succumb to self-inflicted pain. I mastered the art of self-pity, mulling over the unecessaries. I fancied over the illusion of ghosts and vampires I created.

All these are perfectly impressed in the memento of my soul. And it was as if that isn't enough. I started recording each blow, each fatal encounter, each misery-turned-absurdity into this virtual prism of visuals and pixels.

With words adjunct another, I created a mixture I have called profound but in truth shallow, mischievous, and loud--a melange that others tiresomely peeped through.

There are a fingerful who noticed me, who heeded to my subconsious desire for attention. In fleeting seconds, they penetrated my angst, read my soul, and reacted either mildy or harshly at my rantings-cum-vexations.

But like any larvae who had to undergo metamorphosis and fulfill its awaiting destiny, I too, must have my own share of a transformation that I craved for so long. From here, I could smell the sweet scent of emancipation. I could taste the sumptuous dish of freedom prepeared before me by the gods.

The favor is on me. I sense serenity popping any minute by now.

More than ever, I am now ready to use the hands of time to plunge deep into the seat of my memories and unlock the messages therein lies. I am never gonna let my past haunt me more. I'm gonna grasp smartly the uncertainties that my future entails.

What To Do Now?

2007-02-26T13:40:00.001+08:00

Here comes a point where understanding is too much elusive; and thinking perpetually amusing.

I have been undergoing a major overhaul lately. Too many things caught me up thinking in circles. After my mom died two weeks ago, I certainly had to do a lot of reorientation of priorities. It is not easy. And right now, I don't think I could muster the courage to grasp it all at once.

Honestly, my state right now is like the ocean shore or the sea shore or whatever. I know when the tide is coming up or low. But I am uncertain of how high or low it could be. In short, I am lucid but still my bottoms' are shaky.

For one, losing my mom when translated practically would mean I had to position myself to be a quasi-head of the family. Dad will be back in UK so I would assume responsibility of tending over my siblings. But of course, I just had to, oh well, act as an overseer. I always believed in a no-too-hands-on caregiving for I am in no position to rob off others with their own life experiences and discoveries.

So there I am, standing on subtle soils. Of course, I just can't shrug the fact of what to do with my own life given the circumstance that my parents would have wanted me to go to law school. And so it resurfaced. Oh well honestly, the reason why I decided not to take it is pathetic. I think I can't do it. I thought I am not for its rigors. Hence, I delimited my capacity even before I tried it. But it was also aggravated by the family's financial status and my own drifting to somewhere else.

And the complicated thing right now is: career or vocation? My stint in Palawan is not something I could easily give up on.

One, I had seen so much potential in it that I know I am going to grow with it perspective-wise. It can be about defeating what my college professor once said: that the youth of today cannot totally customize to what the great Rizal envisioned them to be because they have to watch over their lives first. On the contrary, the great sacrifice will be: even if you don't have and amidst all odds, you still pushed through it all.

Second, in my principle the things of this world are obviously meant to just lure you and it can't go in immortal. The phase is even a vicious cycle of acquiring and losing. It's about petty triumphs and significant failures. Oh well, that is the basic dynamics of life.

Third, what I started there I have yet to form a strong foundation. I haven't finished anything yet nor proved my worth to leave and start another. Besides, if I'm gonna retract I had to be certain where to go even though its murky.

One thing is sure for now: no one's gonna make things certain for me, I had to make it myself.

My Unguarded Wings.

2007-02-23T17:24:00.002+08:00

Because of your love, I am born; Because of your life, I live to love

And I’ll be putting you in the marrow of my being
the curves that shape your pretty face
those tinted eyes moistened so often by tears of joy and pain
those trembling lips that spoke of substance and love
the velvety black hair that stands aglow the purple skies

All those I have encoded quietly,
for I don’t want to lose the chance
nor just wait and let the autumn leave fall.

Because you are my light,
a heavenly creation that dazzled in perfection.
You enveloped me with your wings, let those be
calloused by rough hitting winds
struck hard by the lightning’s fury
and pierced by the sharpest of thorns.

Those wings of yours, once pure and illuminating
suddenly were coaled by iron ore
were blackened by the midnight’s sorrows
and ripped by rebellious hands.
It’s all because of me.

You felt cold while I was warmth;
You were hardened so I could be tendered.
Armored by your firmness, I have gone protected,
Bound by your selfless love, I savored the best
And graced by your presence, I am nourished.
It’s all because of you.

Unconditionally, everything flowed from you generously,
until nothing is left for you to consume.
You didn’t complain, even once.
You contented yourself with the cold,
lying unprotected in that empty space,
unrelieved inside that emaciated burrow.

While I remained inside your mighty wings,
comforted in all eternity.
While you exposed your finite humanity
into the deadly venoms of the earth.
I was in heaven amidst this world’s imperfections.

And now that time has come for you to fly –
to spread those calloused wings, soar above the pristine skies
You left me with tenacity to stand against the currents
You prepared me to face the world’s empty promises
You delicately formed in me the seed of love, immortal.

You might have not realized your own dreams,
nor achieved that professional success
that you aspired of since you were born;
You might not have experienced full the lures
and caprices of this substandard human world

Yet you have fulfilled the greatest mission there is –
That of sacrificing your life, your dreams
to rear your blood to be functional and principled,
to found a family of worth and dignity
That of becoming a MOTHER beyond compare.

In Memoriam
Maria Liwayway Nadal-Abril
25 May 1957 - 13 February 2007
my mom
my inspiration
my strength
my all

The Puzzle.

2007-01-28T15:19:00.001+08:00

If Neruda can write the saddest line for a lover's lost,
why can't I write the happiest line for a lover not yet found?

Someone told me that I had to start picking up the pieces of the puzzle I am trying to solve. All this while, I have been thinking about Sphinx's riddle and digging into the passages of this wandering. It was a task neither easy nor dull. Solving it made me twist myself until I can't breathe any longer. I was suffocated. I thought I was going to burst and die from asphyxiation. Little did I know, there's nothing left to burst. The last drop that could fell has already passed by even before I realize it. The only consolation left to my despondent weariness was that the puzzle never made my life dull. Each time that I had to stretch my brains was a learning opportunity in disguise. It was a stretching situation that made my deciphering painful, yet exciting; baffling yet, intelligent; and critical yet redeeming. It wasn't really bad after all. All the while it was my outlook that made me missed the greater purpose of the puzzle. It's a good thing that someone told me that I had to start picking up the pieces of the puzzle that I am trying to solve. If not, perhaps I have been brooding eternally upon how to do it, when all I should have done is to pick one up and fit it with another one.

Love Found.

2007-01-21T20:50:00.004+08:00

And she kissed him on his soft-parched lips. It was so tender, a brush on a midnight stroke of light, and smooth, like a perfectly brewed latte. They have been wanting such moment to come that the world would stop churning and the season would come to a halt. He gently held her in strong arms. And they were kissing against the moon, which seemed to have forgotten that its light doesn't come from itself. Played at the backdrop of Shakespearean's CXVI, the intensity of a deep human emotion forecloses.

"So long have I waited for this moment," he lightly revealed quivering in the cold. "I always hoped for this, even dreamt about it many times. But I was afraid, too much afraid that once I say this that tiny little would would vanish away in thin air." Listening intently to him, she lightly loosened from his grip and relaxed her voice, "I prayed for this moment when you can hold me in your arms, when I can just be with you, when I can just be me and be with you." She was grasping his moist palm. Her voice started to break, "From the time I wake up to walk along the red bricked road, to the time I sip my coffee, until the light shuts itself, I have asked that you'd be given to me. I have loved you... even before you knew it."

Shifting Sands

2007-01-21T16:13:00.004+08:00

There is light sheer joy
in seeing the sands
shift with the waves.

It was as if forever
it is destined to do
the same over
and over again.

There is a convulsing impetus
at the sight of the sands
shifting at the shore.

It was as if
they are traveling on
and on to reach
the ocean's floor.

There is sheer contentment
in seeing the sands
move from space to space.

It was as if it
has a life of its own
But the wind and the water
push it, swerve it,
move it from space to space.

Freewill.

2007-01-12T19:01:00.004+08:00

Our freewill is a gift given out of God's love. It's a gift, not a curse, as most people may think. It's a blessing; not a vehemence. God gave us the ability - not the power - to choose because he initially graced us with rationality, that ability to process information and concept and decide after. It is in our blueprint to think, to decipher rightness and wrongness of a thing or action. But of course, what good is it for us if we could only decipher and differentiate but can't choose which side of the coin to go, and which path to tread on?

Exercising freewill on the belief or unbelief of God for instance is a direct manifestation of this precious gift. But the more important thing about this is that it shows that as much as God wants us to be on his side always, he did not coerced nor forced. He wittingly left us to our own thinking devices and capacities because he trusts us.

Choice therefore means learning. As we make choices, we are flooded with many opportunities, chances we can take to either turn things to our favor or let us be consumed harshly. And choice slash freewill slash freedom just proves how God works to make us understand the reality of this physical world - the lightness or heaviness of beings, the bearability or un-bearability of passions, and the rhythm or stillness of moments.

Often, we say his ways are magnificent; his works, a wonder. But how many of us truly understand this? Statement-wise, it is the visual that overpowers our senses. We've never really tried to dig into the reasons of how things work.

Why in times of trouble we often think that God abandoned us? Why is it easier to put the blame on him? Why do we question his credibility when things go against our liking? Perhaps, it may even not our choice that they happen, that we just randomly meet them along the path we tread on. Have it ever occurred to us that in a snap, God may command the heavens, the earth, and the seas to conspire against us? But of course, he wouldn't do that. Not in an unintended, purposeless manner.

So God, that omniscient and omnipotent being, left us instead with choices and to make choices for us to learn by ourselves, for us to realize the consequences of our own choosing, for us to personally navigate into the depths of our humanity, and for us to intentionally choose him and accept that we are his most beloved creation.

Imagine a world where we can think but we can never choose, where we can believe but can't fight for nor negate such, and where we are just like any other forms of animals - living each day by internally recorded instinct.

Letting Go.

2007-01-02T17:20:00.002+08:00

There was a time in my life that I was lost, sauntering blindly in a path so thorny, so dim. I felt betrayed, consumed by the thought that I am alone - always. No one stood by my side to lift me, to inspire me, and to bring me back to my senses. Not even my parents were there. Neither my friends - or they were there but I didn't mind them being there.

I was inches close to self-destruction. Everyone conspired against me; even my self. One blow I would've been shattered into pieces. Literally. I was no better than broken pieces of glass, forcefully banged and finely crushed. It was nearly impossible to construct myself again.

Until that one fine day I finally decided to move on and let those build-up simmer into vapor. I was never the same again. Much to my favor, the past is just a memory now - still lingering, yet controllable; lamentable but diffusable.

Random Thoughts 3

2006-12-22T16:19:00.002+08:00

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.

---

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.

----

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.

---

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

2006-11-24T11:52:00.001+08:00

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?

2006-11-22T18:20:00.002+08:00

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.

2006-11-02T16:18:00.002+08:00

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.

2006-10-29T10:17:00.001+08:00

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

2006-10-09T13:16:00.002+08:00

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.

2006-10-04T16:48:00.002+08:00

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

2006-09-29T13:30:00.002+08:00

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

2006-09-26T17:56:00.003+08:00

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

2006-09-08T19:38:00.002+08:00

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

2006-08-30T12:05:00.002+08:00

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

2006-08-23T12:00:00.002+08:00

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

2006-08-16T20:54:00.006+08:00

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

2006-08-04T18:44:00.002+08:00

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

2006-08-04T17:13:00.002+08:00

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

2006-08-03T20:04:00.003+08:00

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

2006-08-02T12:32:00.002+08:00

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

2006-08-01T12:29:00.002+08:00

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.

--

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

2006-07-31T12:23:00.002+08:00

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

2006-07-30T14:56:00.001+08:00

"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

2006-07-29T14:55:00.001+08:00

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.

----

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

2006-07-28T14:51:00.004+08:00

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

2006-07-27T14:48:00.001+08:00

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

2006-07-26T14:46:00.001+08:00

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?

2006-07-25T14:47:00.001+08:00

"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

2006-07-24T14:43:00.001+08:00

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

2006-07-23T14:42:00.001+08:00

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

2006-07-22T06:04:00.002+08:00

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

2006-07-21T21:03:00.001+08:00

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

2006-07-20T21:00:00.001+08:00

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?

2006-07-19T20:55:00.001+08:00

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

2006-07-18T21:15:00.001+08:00

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

2006-07-17T20:42:00.004+08:00

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.

2006-07-06T18:15:00.002+08:00

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.