Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Mystery for a Day
reminds me of the old days
During my not so far-flung highschool days, there were several perplexing mysteries that to-date, are still ambigous in solution.
1. What is underneath Ms. Mojika's (i dunno the spelling) long sleeves?
2. What is inside the door along the stairs of the Maceda Building that leads to the second floor?
3. What ever happened to Sir Agustin?
4. What ever happened between Ms. Labay and Mrs. Lucena?
5. Why did Sir Nuval leave MaSci?
6. Are there ghosts roaming in MaSci?
7. What ever happened to Mrs. Yano?
8. How the heck did we lose in the STEP Parliamentary Procedure?
9. What's up with Mrs. Yumang and Mr. Bangayan?
10. In what year did the first MaScian set foot on Paco Park to practice?
(I know this list is just the tip of the iceberg so feel free to post more in the Comments)
But one of the greatest highschool mystery that stood out from the rest and which became the subject of my interest for the day is - What in the world is Grimace?
Yup, for the whole day, that bouncing overweight McDonald's mascot has been bugging my consciousness. About hours ago, I was sure that Json was right when he repeatedly told us (Moshies) that Grimace is just a tastebud. Well, I believed him but because of an e-mail, I am led to believe otherwise.
Hindi ka ba naku-curious kung ano o sino si Grimace??? Sa mga hindi pa
nakakaalam... si Grimace ay yung batchoy na kulay ube na mascot ng
McDo. Ano ba siya? At ano ba ang papel nya sa buhay ni Ronald? Sabi sa
website ng McDo, eto daw si Grimace:
"Grimace is a big, loving, fuzzy purple fellow who is Ronald McDonald's
best friend. He's sure Ronald is the world's ultimate authority on
everything. While Grimace loves all McDonald's foods, he's absolutely
crazy about milkshakes. Grimace is very enthusiastic and eager to try new
things. His joyous spirit helps everyone overlook the fact he's a little
slow and clumsy sometimes."
Ows? E ano naman ngayon?!? Actually, si Grimace ay kontrabida na may
anim na kamay na nagnenenok ng milkshakes. Ika nga sa isang website:
"Between Hamburglar (who stole burgers), the Fry kids (who stole
fries), and Grimace, crime was running rampant in the 'McHood."
O di ba... napakagandang ehemplo sa mga kabataan?? Pero ang
pinakamagandang mga teorya ay galing (kanino pa?) kundi sa mga Pilipino:
unang teorya: Si Grimace ay isang ube mascot. Ung McDo marahil ay may
ice cream o shakes na ube ang flavor.
pangalawa: Si Grimace ay bastardong anak ni Tinky Winky ng Teletubbies
(na natsitsismis na bakla) at isang eggplant.
pangatlo: Siya ay violet na krayola na iniwan ng mga bata (sa
playground ng McDo) sa araw para matunaw.
pang-apat: Grape-flavored drink daw si Grimace... kaya lang maasim un
drink kaya nagmukhang grimace sila... kaya siya tinawag na Grimace!
panlima: Siya daw ang pinaka-suwangit na mascot ng McDo, kaya siya
pinasuot ng costume - purple na costume daw ito na napaka-bigat na
hindi na matanggal! Hehe!
pang-anim: Si Grimace ay lahat ng pagkain sa McDo na hinalo sa
blender....
pampito: Siya ay isang milkshake. Period.
pangwalo: In-introduce daw ng McDo ang kamote french fries sa Pinas ng
pumunta daw sila dito. Kaya daw may mascot na Grimace. Isa siyang
kamote.
pangsiyam: Kakambal pala siya ni Ronald McDonald, kaya lang, retarded
daw si Grimace kaya siya pinasusuot ng purple
costume.
pang-sampu: Kakambal nya si Barney the dinosaur pero wala syang buntot
kaya pinalayas sya at napunta sa McDonald Land.
pero ito ang pinakamatinong teorya so far...
pang-labing-isa: Si Grimace, kasama ng iba pang mascotsn ng McDo, ay
pinakilala noong 70's. Siya ang nagrepresent ng Blueberry
milkshakes na ni-launch sa US. Ang tawag talaga sa kanya ay Evil
Grimace, kasi nga nagnenenok siya ng milkshakes. Galing siya sa isla na puno
ng sigla at puro milkshakes. (Ok, whatever...)
E ano ba ang official word ng McDo???
Well, may tumawag sa McDo to ask nga kung sino ba talaga si Grimace...
Alam mo kung ano ang sinabi ng babaeng sumagot ng phone.....???
"He's a potato."
Uh... okay! Whatever....hello. Sa mga hindi nakakaalam kung ano c
grimace..here's the REAL ANSWER...
GRIMACE symbolizes one product McDo USED to have na of course, WALA na
ngayon. GRIMACE stands for the TARO MILKSHAKE na dati sine-serve ng
Mcdo.
This is a fact mga pips. Bahala ka na kung maniwala ka o
hindi...Alamat nga eh.
P.S. After drinking too many milkshakes, most people probably would resemble
Grimace.
Oh well, there are so many theories on who Grimace is. One even said that it (since we don't know what it's gender is) is the mixture of the colors of the capitalist clown ruler Ronald McDonald. You know what I have to say to that? SHUT UP ASS WIPE. How could people see a mascot as a capitalist ploy? That is so typically sick of Americans. Oh well...
If we are to analyze Grimace's nature, it is good to start with the name. But, instead of making matters clearer, it is pretty obvious that the name Grimace is very misleading since it means an "unfunny laugh". But back in the 70's, when McDonald's commercials are everywhere, Grimace is a six-armed creature known as "The Evil Grimace" which mystically transformed into Ronald's best pal who always get into trouble.
Another interesting factoid is that this nudist without a genitalia is part of a gang of mascots with less mysterious origins that his.
Oh well, I have searched far and wide to uncover the secrets of this obese blob which I have always thought of as an UBE flavored sundae but unfortunately, I can't find a single specific answer. Yet as I am writing this article, a realization struck me like a shove in the butt, why in the world am I spending hours trying to figure out what a simple, lovable, and adorable fastfood mascot is? Well, it only goes to prove that mascots are for kids not for bummed wackos like me.
There is one thing that I find trully humorous. It is that all around the world, there are people who, just like me, is perplexed by the mystery of Grimace. Some even lead to forming their own wacky theories. So much has been said of this hunk of purpleness that has been a part of my life - as an entertainer in childhood and as a mystery in highschool - but whatever he is, he will always remain in my heart as that hefty chunk of pure happiness that made a billion people smile all over the world. No theory about his orgin can ever erase that fact. It only proves that in life, it doesn't matter what you are but it's what you can be.
@ 
Monday, May 24, 2004
Family Resurrected
Looks just like us, almost :)
I have been waiting for my Family Encounter for some time now. Since last year, I was already eager to join FE with the thought that it would be very healthy for our family to do so. I was dismayed when we weren't able to have it last year. But God had His reasons why He wanted us to be at the Bukas Loob Sa Diyos Covenenant House in Dasmarinas, Cavite last May 21 - 23.
After myriads of problems that recently plagued our families, there was no better time to have our FE than now. It is even an irony that during the week before the weekend, we were experiencing heavy bouts of conflicts and quarrels. I thought we wouldn't be able to attend especially when my parents had a quarrel right before we left home last Friday afternoon. God was even testing me when my Mom scolded me halfway through the travel. Obviously, I became mad but the first sight of the Covenant House had its own ways to heal a broken heart.
For two and a half days, we were asked to stay as a family, walk as a family, eat as a family, pray as a family, and talk as a family since there was a No Socializtion Rule which wasn't strictly followed except during the last day. The rule was very difficult to follow since I had many friends in the sponsoring class.
On the first night, we were asked to draw a family poster. Here we will draw a figure that best symbolizes our family. It was a difficult activity to do, specially when the whole family rooted for me to think. After a couple of my suggestions, we agreed upon drawing the human body. The brain symbolizes me (which was so egotistical of me), the face for Paolo, the hands for Mommy, and feet for Dad. Then, each family was asked to explain the poster. The next day, we were required to wake up at the sound of the bell (reminds me of the retreat in Capuchin) at around 6 am. Here, I discovered my love for Blue Skies Crackers (which I find myself munching whenever there is a break). The first activity is for each father of the family to shout "God loves us, we're special". The dads were funny with their own "pakulos". When it was my Dad's turn, I hid in my jacket(it was very cold inside the conference room) kasi nahihiya ako. For the whole day, we listened to talks by the spiritual director, Father Ric. Each was followed by a sharing by a presenting family(there were 2 presenting families who alternated for each talk). After each series of talk and sharings, we were asked to do an activity. Each activity for every topic was different from the other. Generally, we evaluate our family and its problems, then, we write a love letter addressed to the family. After writing the letter, we are to have a dialogue wherein each member of the family reads his/her letter to the family. This was done in a family circle which started and ended in a prayer. I noticed that I always had the longest love letters but Mom is always the one to cry while reading hers.
At first, the family dialogue was a little difficult and "nakaka-ilang". Especially because I will be talking about the deepest concerns that I have with my family which I only say to a very few people. It is also odd because it seems as if all the talking that we are doing for the past three days were more than all the 16 years combined. But afterwards, I became more comfortable and enlightened.
last Saturday night, there was this part called Let's Take a Break. This is the time wherein the sponsoring class, FE 78, had a showcase of talents (na sobrang benta sa akin tulad nung TIKOY with matching actions, yung Flintstones and Sound of Music impersonations, at yung angels gimik). Then, each family in our class were to perform the cheer and skit which we were asked to prepare an hour before the program. Before the showcase, at dinnertime, I had no appetite since I was thinking on what cheer to do and how we can "make a skit that involved making the song "You Were Always There" (a very dramatic religious song) into a videoke video". After much brain-brewing I came up with a familiar cheer:
Kami, Castanar Family, gwapo,
Matatalino, beauty
Kahit may away, happy (with matching corny actions that reminded me of Filipino class with Gng. De Leon)
Then, I was also able to come up with a skit. While directing my family, I found out that it is more difficult to instruct my family than to instruct my Filipino group. Nevertheless, we were able to perform the cheer and skit. Afterwhich, I felt so embarass kasi naman ang dilim dun sa venue tapos nakatapat sa amin yung spotlight. Tapos, may pakulo rin dapat yung skit, ginawa kong mala Video-okray na mejo extempo at nagmukha pa akong bading. Oh well, at least it was fun fun fantastic!!!
After the Let's Take A Break was the last opportunity to socialize becasue the next day, the rule is to be implemented. So I talked to my girlie friends for a while. Then, it was bedtime at around 12:30 am.
The next day, we had the grand dialogue. This is the all-out opening up of all the members of the family. of course, I can help but cry, and so did my parents but not Paolo. Our grand dialogue covered almost all issues possible. I discovered a lot about my family. After sharing all my concerns and sheding my tears, I felt good. It was as if my family became an exisitng entity once again.
After the grand dialogue was the anointing. We were anointed by the priest with holy oil in front of the blessed sacrament wherein I can't help but break down into tears. Then, we annointed one another, wherein more tears were shed.
The weekend concluded with a mass (our family was asked to read the 1st reading) and a final presentation of the sponsoring class (which was uber cool!!). Then, our family, and 3 others, were named family coordinators of our class. We graduated and each member of the sponsoring class shook our hands. Nakakatuwa yung iba kasi tinatanong nila yung school ko, yung iba tanong kung Xavier ba ako o Zobel. Tapos, meron pang lola na tawag sa akin ay Mr. Suave! Basta nakakatuwa!!
Before we left the covenant house, the 4 coordinating families met with the shepherd family. We talked about plans for the reunion. Then, I felt the pressures of sponsoring FE 82 next year. But oh well, we still have a year to prepare and we have each other naman to rely on.
As I now look back to the three days of encountering with my family and with my God, I can say that the Lord is trully great. I would never have the weekend in any other way. It was as if before the FE, our family was dead and after three days, we have resurrected, just like Jesus did. God is so good. He works in very mysterious ways. His love has worked not only for the presenting families who shared how God became the center of their families but also within my family and with 15 other families who belong to FE 80. Each family found new friends. Each family found healing in God. Each person found love in God and in his/her family. Each heart found reconciliation.
Thank God for the Family Encounter.
Praise God!!!
Friday, May 21, 2004
Family Matters
At least they're having fun
For 16 years, I am living on a home with a family that has a very formal arrangement. We are not that close to each other. By saying that we are not a close family, it doesn't just mean that we don't know each other's favorite colors (which is also true), but also we don't have that open communication that is necessary for family survival. This maybe the reason why recently, we are having difficulties with problems related to each other. I, on my part, am having resentment over my parents - specifically towards my father. It is also obvious that my younger brother isn't particularly fond of me. These and a host of other problems, apparent and hidden, are plaguing our family.
Yes, I know, problems are integral for a strong relationship. But it is growing obvious, by the minute, that all that I see are problems, problems, problems... Almost 95% of my daily dialogue with my parents comprise a scolding, ordering, and my answering back. This has been going on for as long as I remember. I want it to stop.
People think that I have a perfect family. But is there such a thing? There maybe no quintessential family (except hte Holy Family) but honestly, there are families that I envy. I envy them for I see the children talk to their parents as if their talking to their best friends. It is pretty obvious that they are pretty open to each other. I envy families when I see parents laughing with their sons and daughters. We rarely tell jokes to each other. I envy siblings who treat each other like real brothers and sisters. I envy families whom we are not.
We are on a family crisis, whether we admit it or not. I know these problems are quite shallow compared to those of others. But I would never want to live to see the day when my family will be broken and shattered. I never want to have bigger problems that what we have. I love my family, and it's obvious each of us love our family. For this reason, this weekend, we are going to Cavite to have our Family Encounter.
For three days, I will be with my family. We will devote 72 hours for each other in hope that in doing this, we will come out as a better family. But frankly, I am afraid of my FE, especially the Family Dialogue. That is the part wherein we will all open up to each other and talk things over. For my part, I have a lot of issues that I want to raise. For the past few weeks, I have been taking mental notes on what I don't like about my family, and if they were to be written, they would fill a yellow paper. But still, I am having my doubts. I don't know if I should tell them for most of them are based for the good of myself and not for the whole family. I have been spending nights thinking on what I will say on that grand dialogue. Oh well.. Let Go and let God...
So, I'll be back on Monday. In the mean time, may I ask whoever is reading this to please, pray for our family, the Castanar family.
Ciao!
Thursday, May 20, 2004
The Woman of My Life
First love trully never dies
It may not be Mother's Day, but this is HER DAY. This is day that the Lord has made when He breathed life to my ever dearest Mommy, 39 years ago. This is the day when all the Universe conspired to help start God's greatest plan for a hapless soul, me.
Mom, I know you won't be able to read this but I hope that this may help me fully understand how special you are to me by seeing with my own eyes how I trully feel about you.
I love my Mom with all my life, with all my soul, with all my heart, and with all I am.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMMY!!!
Note to readers 1: Wanna greet my mom? Txt me (09165104257) and I'll show it to her.
Note to readers 2: Love your mothers, they're the BEST!!!
Note to self: Don't forget to love your mom. Always.
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
Noteworthy
I wish I was him
Jump starting the morning with your brother waking you up from a very very good dream (I was in the part where I was about to hold a girl's hand [you know who you are]) is not my idea of a perfect start. Why would a 14 year-old be so interested in rousing his demented older brother at 9:30 am? To tell him that he (the brother) needs to race to their store and tend it for a hefty three-hour period!
Oh well, I have been grumbling all summer long how I hate being a storekeeper, so I'll spare you from the gorey details and just go on with another session of senseless mental farting concocted into incoherent paragaraphs.
Politics. It's the dirtiest sport in the world. No rules. No laws. No nothing. This is where all hell beaks loose. Politics reminds me of something - a snakepit. Everybody's eating up anybody who is anybody.
Isn't it a big puzzle why would 5 individuals brave all odds just to inherit a whopping 4.063 trillion pesos worth of debts? Yup, that's how much a country with 84 million people and counting owes. I even overheard my grandfather say that each newly born baby already has a 54,000-peso bill in his/her credit card. That's one heck of a truckload of cash.
How in the world did we have such wads of monetary debts? Well, there are several reasons which most of the people already know but one interesting reason is because NAPOCOR is charging less for each kilowatt hour. You think your electric bill is high? Well, frankly, it's not high enough. NAPOCOR charges 2.22 pesos per KWH when the actual cost of power generation is 3.01 per KWH. NAPOCOR barely breaks even!!! That's why NAPOCOR is swimming in 100 billion pesos in cash needs, all thanks to the administration's "pro-poor" fantacism (as said by Max V. Soliven).
Man! Philippines isn't going down the drain, IT ALREADY IS!!! Please give me a reason to love being a Filipino...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After seeing FPJ warding off the obvious issue that he doesn't know a scintilla about governing a country, it is quite unusual to see a prominent figure back out from the calling of being the top honcio of her country. I'm talking about India's Congress Party leader, Sonia Gandhi, the widow of ex-prime minister Rajiv Gandhi. Despite lacking political experience, she became the Congress Party's leader in 1998 by rescuing it from disintegration. Now, Gandhi is on the spotlight in being the next PM of India. But recently, after much protest and issues, she announced that she won't be running for PM.
Gandhi's decision in backing out is a very admirable one. She saw how the economy reacted when her plans for being PM was announced - and it wasn't good looking. Her backing out is a clear sign that she isn't in it for the power but for the good of the country. Though she is Italian-born, it is pretty obvious that she has one thing on her mind, the prosperity of India.
Gandhi is a worthy figure to be emulated by our presidential aspirants.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Note to self 1: You hate it when your parents want to do something unexpectedly.
Note to self 2: You like Hey Arnold over Spongebob.
Note to self 3: Stop talking about politics.
Note to self 4: Stop fucking up.
Note to self 5: Start dreaming earlier.
Note to self 6: Whenever you get a chance, say how much you love her.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Twisted Wisdom
Is this mine?
Once upon a time there was a non conforming sparrow who decided not to fly south for the winter. However, soon the weather turned so cold that he reluctantly decided to fly south. In a short time ice began to form on his wings and he fell to Earth in a barnyard, nearly frozen solid.
A cow passed by where he had fallen, and crapped on the little sparrow.
The sparrow thought it was the end, but the manure warmed him and defrosted his wings! Warm and happy, able to breath, he started to sing. Just then a large cat came by, and heard the chirping. The cat cleared away the manure, found the chirping bird, and promptly ate him.
The Moral of the Story: Everyone who craps on you is not necessarily your enemy. Everyone who gets you out of crap is not necessarily your friend. And if you're warm and happy in a pile of crap, you might just want to keep your mouth shut.
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Funny as it may seem, the moral(s) of the story is/are true. There are just some things in life that you really can't comprehend. Like why of all people, those who give you crap for as long as you can remember is the same person who'll be there in times of dyre need. On the other hand, there are people who at first glance aretrying to help you but in reality, these same people are helping you not out of selfless care and love but because of the goal of personal gain which is lying just beneath the surface.
With that much said, I have to admit that searching for a true friend is next to impossible. Considering the complexities of the human psyche, identifying one with pure intentions is like choosing the next president of the republic.
So far, the only thing that comes to my mind that can distinguish a true friend from a friend, is an indelible quality that was ultimately displayed by the most influential man in history - Jesus Christ. Ladies and gents, the line between friend and fiend is drawn by the absence of one letter. Likewise, the mark of agape friendship is also drawn by one virtue - sacrifice.
Friendship is not about helping people in need. Friendship is not about finding someone whom you could confide your secrets to. Friendship is not about having someone to comfort you in times of immense sadness and despair. Friendship is not giving the feeling of immense happiness and fulfillment. Friendship is not about gains nor losses. Friendship is all about going out of one's comfort zone to bring another to his. Friendship is risking whatever you hold most in order for someone to ultimately find joy. Friendship is not about what you create but what you can give from yourself. Friendship is commitment to love another.
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DoubleStuf OREO + ice-cold Millkolate = oooohhhhh la la!!!
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Why are there so many things that I can't figure out? Sometimes I just want to bang my head in the wall hoping that in doing so, the plethora of doubts, questions, and fears would all be shaken away.
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Why can't everything be a little bit easier? Why can't I just get what I really want? I want to be happy - is that such a crime? What else can I say? I'm a big screw-up! Sorry.
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What am I thinking right here and now? Hint: Count the number of asterisks, then look up into the sky. If it's day, look at the works of the painter. If it's night, stare at works of the jeweler.
Monday, May 17, 2004
Nilamon ng Lumbay
Ang lumbay sa ula'y sumabay
"Nahihilo, inaantok, nababaliw, natatakot, ang buhay ko'y gulung-gulo. Ako ay ako ngunit sa tuwing pag-inog ng mundo ako'y nawawala, ako'y nagwawala. Nasaan na kaya ako?" -isang 'di kilalang nilalang
Sa buhay ng tao, may mga pagkakataong nawawalan ng saysay ang bawat araw na pilit niyang bigyan ng kulay. Dumadating ang pagkakataong hinding hindi niya matanto kung bakit ba niya kailangan pang gumising sa umaga para lamang tumunganga at hintaying dumaan ang isa nanamang araw na walang katorya-torya. Sa kasawiangpalad, ako ang taong ito.
Huli akong nakapag-sulat nang Biyernes ng hapon. 'Di na ako nakapag-sulat kinabukasan o noong sumunod na araw pagkatapos noon sapagkat marami akong ginawang nararapat sa aking atensyon at panahon.
Ilang linggo na akong ginagahol ng oras at lakas. Tila sa bawat araw na kumakaripas, wala man lang akong magawang ayon sa aking kagustuhan. Sa tuwing lulubog ang araw, sasabihin ko sa salamin, "ANAK KA NG TETENG! Wala nanaman akong nagawa!!!". Iba rin talaga itong buhay ng tao, buntis sa kabalintunaan. Apat na taon ko nang hinihintay ang takdang panahon kung kailan ako'y magiging malaya mula sa gapos na nagngangalang high school. Ngunit ngayong ang mga gapos ay wala na, 'di ko maramdaman ang kalayaan, 'di ko maramdaman ang kaligayahan. Lagi na lang akong nakasimangot, laging nakasalumbaba. Ilang dosenang araw na ang dumaan, 'di ko man lang nadampian ang hinahanap-hanap.
Kumusta na kaya ang mga kaibigan? Sila kaya'y nagsasaya? Siguro sila'y nagsisitampisawan sa mga ilog at batis na sobra ang sarap. Siguro sila'y nagpapakalugod sa mga pagkaing walang patid na inihahandog. Siguro sila'y nagpapakasasa sa mga barakada't samahang walang humpay. Siguro sila'y masaya. Siguro nga. Siguro nga.
Kumusta na kaya ang nga naka-away? Sila kaya ay galit pa? Siguro sila'y wala pa ring paki-alam. Siguro sila'y inis na inis pa. Siguro sila'y nananahimk na. Siguro nga. Siguro nga.
Kumusta na kaya ang mga taong 'di ko pa nakikilala. Sila kaya'y naghihintay? Siguro sila'y sabik na sabik na. Siguro sila'y naghahanda na. Siguro sila'y handang-handa na. Siguro nga. Siguro nga.
Kumusta na kaya ang sariling iniwan ko matapos isara ang isa nanamang yugto ng aking nakalulumbay na buhay. Siya kaya'y nangungulila? Siguro siya'y naghahanap parin ng kaligayahan. Siguro siya'y malaya na. Siguro siya'y naririyan lang, naghihintay, nagaabang. Siguro nga. Siguro nga.
Patuloy kong tinatalunton ang masukal na landas ng aking buhay. 'Di ko alam kung saan ako dinadala ng aking mga paa. Walang katiyakan, walang kasiguraduhan. May mga pagkakataong ang mga binti koy' pagod na at nais nang magpahinga. Ngunit sa mundong itong aking tinitirhan, natutunan kong 'wag nang tumigil pa. Sapagkat kung ang hangari'y hahayaang humupa, maaaring ito'y 'di na manumbalik pa. Dapat ang paglalakbay ay magpatuloy.
Sa buhay ko, ilang daluyong na ang nanalanta. Ilang hinagpis at paghihirap na ang humampas sa likod kong punung-puno na ng pekas. Noong una'y gusto ko nang sumuko at yumukod sa mga malulupit na ihip ng hanging. Ilang ulit na akong nadadapa. Ilang ulit na akong nahuhulog. Ngunit sa tuwing ang mukha ko'y napapahalik sa lupa't ang ulo ko'y napapaligo sa dugo, maririnig ko ang munting tinig na mula sa malayo. Ang tinig na ito'y isang himig na kasing tamis ng huni ng mga ibon at kasing sarap ng awit ng ulan. Ito ang tinig ng aking mahal na Diyos Ama. Ang kanyang tinig na tila nagsasabing, "Bumangon ka anak, bumangon ka!", ay nagsisilbing bukal ng lakas upang ipagpatuloy ang laban. Ang kanyang boses ang nagsisilbing gabay upang hamunin ang kadilimang naghahangad gapiin ang apoy ng pananalampalataya na nananahan sa aking puso. Ang aking Panginoon ang tangi kong pag-asa.
Sa paghahanap ng tunay na kahulugan ng buhay, ako'y laging nawawala. May mga pagkakataong akala ko'y natagpuan ko na ang tunay na saysay ng buhay na ipinagkaluob sa akin na punung-puno ng pagmamahal. Ngunit sa tuwing ang hampas ng kalungkutan ay hahagupit sa aking abang kaluluwa, ang ilang taong paghahanap ay mukhang nauwi na sa wala. Ito'y patunay lamang na sa mundong ibabaw, walang kasiguraduhan at walang katiyakan.
Unti-unti na akong ginagapi ng kalungkutan. Ngunit ang kalungkuta'y 'di lamang hatid ng mga luhang dumadampi mukha na parang pag-bagsak ng tubig-ulan sa mga tuyong pitak ng lupa. Ang kalungkuta'y 'di lamang ang kawalang presensya ng kasiyahan. Ang kalungkuta'y hindi isang kahinaan. Ito'y hindi tanda ng kawalang ng tagumpay sa buhay. Ang kalungkutan kong ito ay hindi isang manipestasyon na wala akong dahilan upang matuwa, sapagkat napakaraming dahilan upang ako'y magsaya. Ang kalungkutan ko'y hindi nangangahulugan na nagapi na ng kadiliman ang aking puso't gunita. Ang kalungkutan ay isang bahagi lamang ng buhay. Ngunit tulad ng iba pang mga piyesa ng buhay - tuwa, hirap, sakit - ito'y lumilipas din na parang mga ulap na dala ang mga ulang bumabaha sa aking buhay.
Pilit ko mang bigyang kadahilanan ang kalungkutang gumagapang sa ilalim ng aking balat, hindi ko ito magawa. Siguro'y kailangan ko nalang maging isang puno ng kawayan sa gitna ng rumaragasang sigwa. Hihintayin ko nalang maubos ang lakas ng bagyong nais akong patumbahin sapagkat alam kong ito'y may hangganan at ang lakas ko'y wala.
Ang lahat ng ito'y simula pa lamang ng nakaambang na sigalot ng aking pagkatao ngunit hinding-hindi ako titiklop, hinding-hindi ako mabababali. Lamunin man ako ng lumbay, ang pag-ibig ko sa iyo at sa aking Panginoo'y 'di matutugnas. Sana'y 'pag ang bagyo'y humupa na, kapag akin nang idinilat ang aking mga mata, ay ang iyong kamay ay hawak na.
Friday, May 14, 2004
Summoned but Disappointed
How do I find the relatively new novel by John Grsiham, The Summons? After exactly a week of leisurely reading, I can only find one word: drag.
The Summons is a surprising deviation from the usual lawyer-protagonist style of JG. Though the main character, Ray Atlee, is not a lawyer he is still in good company with the likes of Rudy Baylor(The Rainmaker)and Jake Brigance (A Time To Kill) for he is a law professor.
Set in the simple county of Clanton, Mississippi (which is interestingly where JG's first novel, A Time to Kill, also took place), the story revolves around Ray figuring out how the heck did his newly-deceased old man, Honorable Judge Reuben Atlee, acquire a hefty sum of more than 3 million dollars which is conveniently hidden in a stack of boxes at their house while trying to juggle the consequences of finding it and his life-long addicted brother, Forrest. I know the back of the book offers a better overview of the plot than this but this is a review not a summary.
This novel is a classic example of a diet sandwich - two slices of bread and nothing in between. All it has is an enticing beginning and a sensational end. Everything in between is air.
Frankly, I was disappointed at this "yet another page-turnenr", quoting The Atlanta Journal-Constitution(whatever that is). It lacks the beef of the other legal-thrillers such as The Client and the fast-paced story telling ingenuity of The Firm. But maybe this departure from the all-out courtroom action is a manifestation of how "diverse" his style is, or maybe I was just expecting too much from this novel (but who wouldn't, after seeing a "...consider yourself summoned" as remarked by the USA Today.
By far, this is the worst Grisham novel I've read. It is only saved by the interesting link to The King of Torts, which seemed already conceptualized while this is still in the drawing board. Even the infamous Patton French made his literary debut in this novel. But the real gem of this novel is it's ending which is a sensational one that made me delay lunch for a good half-hour.
Read this if you're an avid Grisham fan, like me, or if you can withstand more than 300 pages of bush-beating just to have a good "HHUUUWhat!" feeling given by an amazing conclusion. But if you are neither the two, I suggest you skip this one and grab that new novel by Nora Roberts.
I give this book:
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
The Multifaceted Race
Instead of the usual bellowing of politicians who clamor that the recently-concluded yet ever-haunting National Elections is a big fat lie, there's a refreshing bit of news.
On the other side of the world, there is a Fil-Am general who, though bears the standard of the stars and stripes, is very much of a Filipino. Maj. Gen. Antonio Taguba(who first caught my attention because of his surname due to apparent reasons) is giving the whole of the US Governement a great deal of head-shaking. His 53-page internal report on abuses of prisoners inside Abu Gharaib prison has put the century old issue of US war ethics back in the spotlight.
Taguba's report which is backed by photos and videos seized from the soldiers deployed in the prisons reveal "numerous incidents of sadistic, blatant, and wanton criminal abuses" against Iraqi prisoners.
US Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld has already appologized for the abuses which occured "under his nose".
Maj. Taguba is one Filipino worth noting. He left the Philippines for the US when he was 11 years old, which meant he has already built a solid foundation based on the Filipino values which evidently lack in today's Filipinos. It takes a lot of courage to face a Senate committee and expose the blunders of the most powerful nation in the world. In a CNN footage, he displayed firm conviction by strongly disagreeing to the US Undersecretary for Defense Intelligence Stephen A. Combone who plays Pilate in this US mishap.
Maj. Taguba is a rare epitome of how strong a Filipino moral fiber should be.
Speaking of moral fiber, the election is one piece of moral circus. Cheaters are everywhere! So what's new with that? Almost everyone are crying foul and everyone's washing hands. This is just one big farce that we are forced to take part in. Personally, I don't care who wins or not. Frankly, the choice whoever get's the much-coveted seats in the front row, can never determine the fate of millions of Filipinos. They are all the same - sheeps in wolves' clothings. Life goes on even if Eddie Gil wins. I know I'm being cynical and that's the same thing that TV networks and their "Youth be aware, every vote count, pinoy ako" campaigns are fighting. But let'sface it, I'm not even in the voting age yet but I'm already fed up with all these politics crap. Who isn't?
From rantings of massive cheating to shouts of disbelief, the nation has seen it all- even a zero vote for FPJ.
And who would overlook incumbent Paranaque city mayor Joey Marquez's graceful acceptance of his apparent landslide loss to former national security adviser Roilo Golez. Even though I stood aghast last night when I heard the news (I'm not a fan of our mayor), other candidates should his stride instead of questioning the integrity of suffrage (which I don't hold against them after seeing how shameless politicians think Manuel Quezons can get their names in ballots) and bawling for an EDSA 4 (come on! give us a break!).
Sen. Ping Lacson couldn't have said it better when he stated, "There is no more use crying over spilled milk and complaining about cheating if we failed to prevent it." I just hope he won't be eating what he said.
Haayyyy... I love Philippine politics, it's one big soap opera! It even beats the h*ll out off Dugong and the leagues of tele-seryes behind her back. I just wish that like all those primetime fillers, however winding and tiring the scripts, the characters, and the plots are, there would be a happy ending for our country.
I just love my Philippines!!!
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
The Final Stroke
I just love waking up in the morning. There's simply something magical about recovering your consciousness after hours of coma. But what's special about waking up is not the first sight of the radiant sun nor the sweet aroma of the fresh morning dew. These little things are what we often hear that we should thank for. But there's somthing more minute that we should thank for. Something neglected 101% of the time.
It's the split second midway between gaining consciousness and opening your eyes when all of the Universe envelopes you with all the life and assurance that this day, someone out there loves you and cares for you. This phenomenon is what makes your eyes open when you wake up. This is what makes you breathe in a fresh sacful of air and flush out stale oxygen from your lungs. This is what makes you feel life creeping through your vains, from the tip of your toes to the ends of your hair.
This I had not when I willed myself out of my slumber.
Yah, I know. Here goes that pathetic romance-depraved blabbermouth up to his good ol' sappy gabbing. Well, if you don't want me being such, then..... BUZZ OFF before you TICK me OFF!!!
Okey, okey.. I'm having yet another emotional breakdown but I'm still ok.
Well, it looks like it's time for me to cut the slack and give her a break. She's been through a lot of horsesh*t that I had been inflicting on her. I have been too unfair, too selfish, and too Omarish. She deserves way more than these. She deserves more than I can give.
Tomorrow is yet another day. I hope I can get enough sense into my senseless(what?!) cranium, for once in my wretched life. Tomorrow, I'll try to watch one of the movies in my list, Jersey Girl. I wanted to ask her out to watch this one, but considering everything, that isn't a good idea. Oh well, I hope I can get through with the movie without being depressed and all.
Hmph.. This is my last shot at being that romantic b*tch I was doomed to be. Tomorrow, I'll try to be that funky guy in that iPod commercial I saw this afternoon.
A man's gotta do, what a man's gotta do...
Monday, May 10, 2004
ma(k)rO loves niqdO
I don't hate my life. I just hate what I'm doing with it.-Koroibus
I woke up this morning at the wrong side of the bed, which wasn't weird these summer days. But this particular morning, it wasn't about the regular complaints for the day. At that split second I opened my eyes, I already had that f*ckin' feeling but I didn't know why. Then I realized, maybe because I slept at the wrong side in the first place. I slept last night committing yet another grave mistake, another addition to my long list of woeful deeds. I hate myself for doing it.
Why do I always had to complicate things? Am I so stupid to mess up everything in my life? Why couldn't I just be satisfied at what is in front of me instead of trying to think about it and ruining it in the process? How ironic that I always say Don't think. Drink. and Don't think. Feel., while in reality, I'm the one who thinks about so many things.
For me, life couldn't be all f*cked up. I always have to f*ck up the best things in life. How? I always have to think about myself being so unworthy, so sh*tty, and all those piles of cr*p about myself. I don't know why I have to bring it up as if it would help my cause. Why can't I understand that by bringing up all those *sscr*p, another person is getting confused? Why can't I just make things easier for the both of us by just shutting up and enjoy what we have? I am one big b*tch.
Would anyone believe that last night (past midnight, actually), I said to myself that I would just give up everything I hold on to and just go on with my life knowing that in doing so, I'll be tearing my own heart into pieces? I don't know but I really did. I messed everything up pretty badly and I want to slap myslef by just walking away.
But I know that I can't do it.
Today, all I did was sit on my *ss and do nothing. I didn't care about anything. Yes I was still breathing but I feel so lifeless. I found no meaning in anything. It's amazing what messing yourself can do to you.
This afternoon, we went out to play bowling. We played four games. My scores were 152, 120, 118, 136. I had a pretty nice game considering I framed a career high score. But I just can't find the reason to feel happy about it, especially when the burden of the thought that because of what I did last night, I have no one whom I can share that milestone with.
I was pretty depressed the whole day. I felt the same way Holden Caufield felt when he was thinking about all sorts of things - his late younger brother, how this girl he dated once kept all the kings at the back row, his sister Phoebe, and those Indians in the museum. We both felt f*cked. Then, the greatest stroke of depression arrived when a song began churning from the alley's radio. I don't know the song but it had words that seem to go like - "Ba-bye na... aalis ka na.. tatawag ka pa ba.. susulat ka pa ba.. tayo pa ba.. ba-bye na..". It was really depressing like h*ll. I wanted to cry right then and there but I can't. I felt so weak and so cr*ppy.
I don't know what's happening to me. I'm falling apart piece by piece and I don't know what to do. I f*cked up so many times that I don't know if I should continue holding on. But I know I want to. I want to not because I've given up so many things just to hold on but because that is what I really want. That's why I just want to kill myself for messing it all up.
I don't want to live alone like this. I don't want to end up like a pathetic *ss-faced bozo (although that's what i am most of the time). I don't want to be the loser I'm destined to be.
I want you. Even though I f*ck up so many times that you already hurts so much, i still want you. I no longer know what good I am for you but I don't care, i want you.
I have done so many wrong things in my life but I don't regret any of them. But I regret every wrong I did to you. I know you're tired of me and my bullsh*t. But who ever said it was easy?
Please, don't leave me alone. Specially now that I know why I always mess everything that is between us - because I am afraid that sooner or later, I'm going to hurt you the way I hurt them.
Please, don't leave me alone.
Please give me back the reason to conquer my fear.
Please give me back the reason to conquer my doubts.
Please give me back the reason to conquer myself.
Please give me back the reason to conquer my all.
Please give me back the reason to conquer the unconquerable.
Please give me back the reason to be.
Sunday, May 09, 2004
Late Surge Salvages Pacman
LAS VEGAS - The stage, the ring rather, is set for the greatest spectacle in Philippine television. After the media being supersaturated with the election hype, the whole nation is glued to their boob tubes to witness The Moment of Truth.
ALABANG - A very sweaty, very sleepy, and very impatient boy sits in the stairs staring at the television in the ground floor of his grandparents' house. His topless body, drenched with sweat due to the unbearable heat, rests at the bare wall. His eyes rolling up and down, desperately waiting for the bout of the month, but before that, he had to endure round after round of boxing with two unknown fighters with tons of commercials in between, from car batteries to cement additives. Thanks to shear boredom, he even managed to fall asleep amidst the searing heat. After an hour so, a sound awaken him, the voice of a famous ringside announcer, heralding the much-awaited bout, and the match was on.
For the whole match, my heart was racing like an F1 racer. Manny "Pacman" Pacquiao was about to challenge the WBA and IBF super featherweight champ, Juan Manuel "Dinamita" Marquez of Mexico City.
Even before the much-awaited match has started, I have been terribly worried that Manny might not be apt to fight today. Why? There are several reasons. For one, I'm alarmed of the hype his last win against veteran Barrera aroused. He's been getting too much media exposure and too much publicity. He's been endorsing so many products that I even managed to doubt his sobriety before the match (he advertised a local liquor brand). I'm afraid that he didn't get enough training to prepare for his title shot.
The bell rang and resonated all over the MGM Grand. It seemed as if the People's Champ, Pacquiao, knew my thoughts and wanted to prove me wrong by walloping incredible straight lefts at the champ, sending his (Marquez) back to the floor three times. Yup! Manny knocked Marquez down three times. Manny has done this so many times before but why didn't the match end right then and there? Well, the reason was that the three-knockdown rule was not enacted on the title match. Though he didn't get the one round victory (which would terribly disappoint the advertisers), the energetic Pacquiao smelled blood and was closing in for the kill. But the bell saved the champ. For the next rounds, I thought I was about to witness the downfall of Marquez, but I was wrong. Besides the impressive left jabs of Pacquiao, I found nothing impressive about his performance in the following rounds. His defense was sloppy (his hands are either too low or too high). Good thing Pacman, however vulnerable he was, was always the first to launch the attack. But the veteran Marquez was quite the counter-attacker. For every jab Pacquiao was to deliver, Marquez would immediately strike back, mostly even more powerful than Manny's.
Round after round passed. Manny was not in good shape. Though he was constantly moving, reminiscent of the Dempsey Roll, Marquez almost always had a powerful straight to make Manny move back. Suddenly, fear struck me. It was as if I was watching a match between a rookie Filipino boxer and a seasoned Mexican champ. Manny was sparring awfully. The first round hunter became the hunted.
By the final rounds of the 12-rounder, Pacquiao's chances of escaping with the belts were getting slim. He barely got a clean shot at his adversary. It was obvious that Marquez had planted more punches on his opponent than Manny. It was clear that Pacquiao's weaponry is only limited to the predictable 1-2 punch combo while Marquez has a myriad of moves under his sleeves (uhm,gloves) like those beautiful uppercuts and especially that deadly counter-attack. But alas! Pacquiao suddenly came to life in the tenth round. For every Manuel punch, Manny refused to fall. Instead, he launched a barrage of jabs and straights at Manuel. But despite the bleeding nose, Manuel's knees simply won't buckle.
The bell sounded for the twelfth and final round. I knew Pacquiao would give it all in this round and so would Manuel. Pacman simply displayed a valiant stand. Final ten seconds, I know someone would fall sooner or later. But no! Nobody went for the final attack. The bell sounded and it was about to be decided with points.
I was so sure that Pacquiao would not get a win through the points. The scores were read, 115-110 in favor of Pacquiao, 115-110 in favor of Marquez, and 113-113. It was a draw.
The match ended with Manny neither winning nor losing. After a message of the President, which was obviously a campaign ploy, Quinito Henson said that Manny, after the first round surge, got his left hand (his main arsenal) swollen and one of his toes blistered. But those were not the only "explanations". He also said that the score in favor of Marquez was actually given by a 71 year-old judge. Plus, the 113-113 score should have been in favor of Pacquiao because of a wrong scoring.
It was definitely a not-so-good day for the Filipinos who flocked by the hundreds in the MGM Grand. This match would be talked about for a long time. I'm sure the usual Filipino "explanations" would arise.
Pacquiao should not be fazed nor daunted. This draw doesn't mean that he lost. Yes, he might have failed to bring home the bacons, but isn't it a better idea if we look at the brighter side of things? Marquez is a seasoned champion with tremendous skill. On the other hand, Manny is new to the featherweight division and is a very young contender. Pacman has a vast amount of opportunities before him. This draw should be treated as a great victory for Manny for he showed incredible power, tenacity, and faith that a true champion is made of.
Oh well, Joel, Election Day is a sleep away so the talk should be moved to the nest days. Speaking of elections, I remember what my uncle said, "Kapag yang si Pacquiao nanalo, panalo si Gloria, pero 'pag talo, talo rin si Gloria". With that said, how would GMA fair with a draw? We'll soon find out.
In the Rain
Rainy days are here!!!
The month of May heralds the first wave of precipitation that will soon flood our streets and cause that oh-so excruciating traffic. But because of the extreme heat, no one would ever imagine that the Indians are already grooving on the rain dance.
This noon was like any other noon - scorching hot. After lunch, my stomach wasn't full of the good stuff but of the water which I gulp every 30 minutes to prevent my body from shriveling. I wanted to escape the heat by watching movies in the cable TV, but as if the whole universe has conspired against me, there wasn't any. So I just read a couple of chapters from The Summons.
Afternoon passed by like the El Nino that ravished our lands, only faster. Then, without warning, rain clouds started to cover the heavens. It loomed ominously for an hour. The winds started to pick up. I was worried because a room in our house was being renovated. But then, I thought struck me - it's good luck to bathe in the first shower of May. So as the thunder rolled, I waited eagerly in the garage. I waited for the first drops of luck. Nothing. I was about to go back inside when it started it drizzle. The sound of the rain kissing the ground and the roof was like the sound of chimes gentling dancing with the wind - it was pure music. Well, as always, the first contact of rain with the soil released a weird odor but it's ok. I was about to go out when the drizzle stopped. Oh no!!!! My dreams (what an exaggeration) of re-living childhood memories of bathing in the rain (me, Paolo, and my Dad usually soak ourselves in the rain during the yesteryears) were gently disappearing like the rain. My grandma, who visited us today, even said, "Naku Omar! Natakot yata sa iyo yung ulan! (laughs)". All I can do was grin back.
I lost all hope of "Dancing in the Rain" (wow, ang drama!). Then, the wind picked up again and whapak! Rain started to hit hard on the roof. Well, it wasn't exactly cats and dogs but it was pretty hard. So I immediately raced outside. Wow, at last, being able to get wet in the rain at my own accord. Well, I have been getting wet under the rain but it wasn't exactly at my own bidding. I even remembered one time when I was in elementary when it rained and I had to get myself soaked because I left my M & M's raincoat back home. I was wet to the undies (hehehe!!!). But this time, I'm enjoying the rain, while it lasts.
It was obvious that the rain won't get harder than it was and that it won't last very long. I got bored standing in the rain so I hopped on an old bike and started biking around Area 6. The road is slippery but it didn't faze me. As I biked, I was kind of puzzled for usually, children go out when it rains and play on the small pools of water that form along the road. That time, there was none. Well, so what! At least I'm having fun. Well, I got bored biking around and my fat thighs were quick to tire on the old bike. So I just exhorted my brother to play with me outside. So we played with a football. One chucks while the other catches. It was fun considering that I was able to whoop my brother's behind by catching almost everything that he throws.
Getting soak in the rain is fun. It's one of those rare moments wherein me and my brother can be brothers again and play with each other. Plus, it beats the heat out of my system.
Saturday, May 08, 2004
Bibby Ain't No Mini
The regular season is where you make your name; the playoff is where you make your fame.
The Playoffs are upon the NBA whether they risk it or not and it's been a heyday for the streaking teams who have made it to the second round. Twenty-nine fought for the right of passage and only eight remain to clash in the semis; all after the Holy Grail - the NBA Championship.
The Playoffs have been a behemoth of a stadium for the fiercest gladiators to hold court. The games have brought glory to some, Kevin Garnett the MVP, and downfall to others - Memphis, Boston, and New York all got the big broom.
All eyes are on the remaining teams sparring for a slot at the Conference Finals and thanks to cable TV, we are all at the comforts of our homes watching (and even betting) on the sweaty bodies of our favorite teams. NBA coverage is big business. The whole world wants a piece of the action, thus, bigger audience share. That's why two networks fought for the rights to broadcast the biggest second season in sports - TNT with the "Win or Go Home" and ESPN with "Play Like There's No tomorrow". TNT got the better of ESPN as it broadcasts double-headers.
This NBA Season and Playoffs have exhorted greatness out of a lot of players. What is greatness? Greatness is what made KG the MVP. Greatness is what made James the Rookie of the Year. But, there is more to greatness than the awards. I remember this advertisement of the latest Jordan with Carmelo Anthony sporting the new kicks. It said that greatness equals greatness. Thus, greatness is what makes the Spurs have a 2-0 lead against the Fab Four (Bryant, O'Neal, Malone, and Payton) and the Lakers. It is greatness which gave the Pistons another 2-0 lead against court general Kidd and the Nets. It is greatness that made the Kings win over MVP KG and his Timberwolves. Greatness comes from the names Tony Parker, Tayshaun Prince, and Mike Bibby.
Tony Parker of the San Antonio Spurs has been unstoppable against the L.A. Lakers. His stellar performance of a playoff career-high 30 points had led the Spurs to a 95-85 victory against the meaty Lakers. Parker, a lightning-quick 6-2 guard from France stole the scene from Tim Duncan and the four future Hall of Famers from the Lakers. With a championship ring in his finger, he has certainly showed great maturity in his ball game as the Spur's go-to-guy along side Duncan.
Tayshaun Prince of the Detroit Pistons has earned his reputation as his team's Playoff topgun. Everybody thought that Prince was just a one-hit-wonder with last year's very impressive Playoff performance. But this year, he has stepped up tremendously upping his average from 10 PPG in the regular season to 15 PPG. Much is expected of this young player in games to come.
Playoff time is Bibby time! To whom does the Sacramento Kings go to when the game is on the line? Not Webber, not Stojakovic, but Mike Bibby. He was the one who almost gave Lakers a run for their money in last years Western Conference Finals. He shot the dagger at Dallas' Semis dream. This time, he crashed KG's MVP party with an explosive 33-point game. Though Sam Cassell had an impressive night with 40 points, it wasn't enough to ward off the King's 104-98 victory. Bibby has really gone a long way since his Grizzlies days. (Beat that Mini Me!)
The NBA 03-04 Playoffs has pick up the pace but it's just beginning. The teams are hot, and the spirits are high. Much is yet to be seen from the world's greatest cagers. As Allan Quartermain said, "...and the game is on", let's rip it!
Friday, May 07, 2004
Adventure Lives Forever or Maybe Not
What do you get when you put Dracula, the Wolf Man, and Frankenstein's monster in one flick? Good old monster bashing action. That's what Van Helsing is all about, and disappointingly, nothing more.
Gabriel Van Helsing (Hugh Jackman), also known as the "Left Hand of God", is a swashbuckling slayer who has no memory of his past sent forth by the Knights of the Holy Order to vanquish the evils that plague the world. He does so amazingly while trying to figure out who really is.
The movie quickly kicks off with some ass-whooping. After an encounter with the monstrous Dr. Jekyll, he is immediately made to set out for Transylvania to face the infamous Dracula. He takes with him, a monk-scientist Carl (David Wenham) who played Faramir in Lord of the Rings.
Van Helsing is one wild rollercoaster ride. It has all the classical elements of the slayer genre - silver sticks, holy water, and crucifixes with some impressive additions to the usual arsenal such as the rapid-firing crossbows and the blade spinners which are sure to give fans of the genre a wow. But like any other movie of its kind, it badly needs depth. For roughly more than two hours, all I saw were monsters and nifty slayers and nothing else. The movie lacked characterization. Hugh Jackman is a nice choice and he did a better job as Van Helsing than as Wolverine, but he just can't carry the audience like Harrison Ford (in his better days). But there is one character that I really like and which I think should have been given a little more attention, Frankenstein's monster. You better watch it if you want to know why.
Van Helsing isn't a bad movie but frankly, it didn't live up to all the hype. But it did make my heart skip a beat a couple of times (thanks to those surprising vampire brides). Besides the captivating CG and massive final confrontation scene which are what one would expect from Mummy director Stephen Sommers, movie-goers are better off to the more character-driven series such as Buffy, Charmed, and Angel. Plus, they don't have to wear Van Helsing's queer hat.
I give this movie (out of 5):
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Quijano - a tribute
Every word was a stratum of color. A single sentence painted a picture. A paragraph drenched my imagination with never before conceived ideas. Each story is pulse setting, nerve wrecking, and mind boggling, especially to the youth like me. While reading Nick Joaquin's work, one can be found immersed in both a cultural and intellectual experience. But there is more to his works than just intellectual creativity, he had a mission, a passion.
Born on May 4, 1917 in Paco, Manila, Nick Joaquin witnessed the metamorphosis of his home city as it awakens from its slumber into the quick rhythms of the modern age. The day he was born is always remembered as the day when baby Nichomedes made a "big howling noise" announcing his arrival to this world. That noise also heralded the beginning of a new age in Philippine literature.
From his humble beginnings as a typesetter for the Tribune newspaper, to the constant contribution of short stories, poems, and essays to various Manila publications, and finally to his first victory as an essayist with "La Naval de Manila" in 1943 wherein he won not only a scholarship but also a ticket to the world of creative writing, his life is a success story. But his success as a poet, essayist, and as a journalist doesn't lie on just his own virtuosity it his in his belief.
In his famous work "The Summer Solstice", he effectively portrayed the collision between instincts and refined culture. It reveals his complexity as a writer for in one stroke he covers topics ranging from women subjugation to feminism, from domination to foot-licking, only a genius can put them together into one. While I was reading his works, I wondered how did Nick write this and other of his masterpieces such as "Manila, My Manila" and "May Day Eve". Then I realized, he had a thirst, a mission. He wanted Filipinos to know who they really are, from our pre-colonial roots to the colonized Filipino, he wanted us to know that our race is a passionate and intimate one. A puppeteer, that's what he is. Animating the Filipino character into new levels, that's what he does best. For in all the works that he write, he professes that the Filipino race is the best in the world. Metaphysically exploring the mysteries of the Filipino body, mind, and soul, he is the flag bearer of our nation in the field of literature.
It was not only his creativity as a writer that inspires me; it is the way he writes. Most people may say that he doesn't deserve to be a National Artist for he doesn't use his only language. At first, I felt the same, that using ones God-given talents of writing but not using our own language is betrayal of our country. But now, I realized that it doesn't matter which language you use, it is in what you write. And every line of his works is purely Filipino.
His sheer virtuosity has inspired me to where I am. I now find myself as a writer. My classmates told me that as a Filipino, it is not good to sharpen ones use of another language other than our own. But it is my decision to write in English, but in my heart I shall always write as a Filipino. My decision was rewarded when I bagged the first place in the first inter-school essay writing contest that I joined, and it was about what Quijano de Manila always wrote about, his city and his people.
A new understanding and passion has entered my life: writing for my country. After reading about his life and his works, and after winning under his inspiration, I have become a flag bearer for my nation and my people on my own. With newfound fervor in writing, I want to serve as a good example to my fellow youth that there is more to life than television and malls, there is writing. To write using any language but writing as a Filipino, to write about the Filipinos and for the Filipinos, those are the challenges I have to face. I hope that all Filipinos, not only aspiring writers may be inspired by the legendary Quijano.
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National artist for literature Nichomedes Joaquin died on the morning of April 29, 2004, after one final beer and less than a week before his 87th birthday last May 4, in his home in San Juan.
He was great. He is loved. He will remain,forever.
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Realizations
This post, although newly published is actually two days old. This has been brewing in my mind since last Sunday. Well, part of the reason why my last post was (counts with fingers) four days ago was my intense fervor in "improving" the layout of my page. For starters, I created the GIF for the blog which is, if people are keen enough like Vincey, is a rip-off from The School of Rock poster that originally says, "Mr. Black, Accept No Substitute" - which is actually a pun for Jack Black was a faux substitute teacher in the move. Speaking of the movie, it kicks ass! It is one of my all-time favorites. Even before the movie reel arrived our shores, I already watched it a dozen times (literally) via pirated media. The next day, Saturday, I busied myself on another rip-off project - friendster logo, milkolate style. I worked through a brownout just to finish that. It is found on the Circle of Blogs page which I worked on last Sunday, together with the new blog logo 'til 5 a.m. the next day. It was difficult to find a way to place the names and pictures in that specific order. Today, I converted most of the code on the faux friendster page into CSS from the table format, which is another pain in the butt. I also added the Random Bible Verse Generator. Wow! I did spend a hefty bunch of hours facing this laptop. But tweaking my template was only half the march.
Since our helper's absence since Thursday, I have been filling up the vacant position. The task includes dishwashing, cleaning, and of course, the grand daddy of all chores, tending the store. The store has been eating up a big fraction of my summer. Who could ever imagine that storekeeping could cause shortening of days, anxiety attacks, sudden increase of stress levels, sleeplessness, and mental struggles over finding a justification for this heavy chore load which a normal teenager would find a suitable excuse to despise his father for burdening him with such a yoke. A month ago, I was that normal teenager but not now. It's unbelievable how I accept these duties with open arms and an open heart. I believe that the source of this is the Holy Spirit. Patience is a gift from the HS and I was baptized in the HS a week ago. Maybe this is a manifestation of the HS' gifts.
Enough with the reasons, so what is this over-brewed epiphany of mine?
That day, Sunday, I reached the state of "bloginess". I reached the state of b-ness after finishing the book The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. (I know almost 100% of MaSci's diverse population has finished the book and has re-read it endlessly since it hit the shelves of National Bookstore. Well, only recently have I got the time, money, and purpose to read it.) It is really a great story and if I would meet Mr. Coelho, I would shake his hand so hard for a job well-done. I connected with the story and it had a profound effect on me but it is neither inspiration nor motivation. I don't know exactly what the fable did to me but it sort of made me identify with the Andalusian boy in so many levels.
The story of a simple shepherd boy who is living the life he wanted is the story of all men. People almost always think they are happy in what they are doing. Most people want to change but are afraid of the uncertainties that come with it. Some risk it and found true happiness. The truth is, all of us are called to go out of out comfort zones to find the truth. Many are called but few answers. But for those who do, like the shepherd boy, great rewards await them.
As I ended the novel, realizations struck me. The boy had a long journey to find his treasure - the chest of Spanish booty. But the truth is, the real treasure was what he earned along the way. So the saying goes, "It's not the destination that matters but the roads that took you there." Learning the Language of the World, experiencing the Soul of God, and making new friends are parts of his Personal Legend.
Sincerely, I want to be like him. From being a shepherd boy, he evolved to something better, like the lead into gold. I also want to evolve, but into what? Then, I remembered the gospel last Sunday. It was about Jesus calling his people as sheep. For like a shepherd, Jesus calls out to his flock. He tends to it and keeps it away from harm. Jesus chose the sheep for it is a humble and clean animal. Why would Jesus choose something else like a pig? But the most striking attribute of a sheep is that it can distinguish the voice of its shepherd. Likewise, the Andalusian boy heard the voice of his shepherd. Thus, the shepherd boy evolved into a sheep. That was his Personal Legend.
Speaking of Personal Legends, I think I know what my goal in life is. Believe it or not, it's to be able to write a novel. I always had the itch to write. I don't know if I'm good enough to attract publishers or even to finish a novel in the first place. But I really want to see a fruit of my passion hitting the shelves of a neighborhood bookstore and be read by a couple of people (I don't care how much royalty I get). If ever those happened, I would be the happiest man in the world. But the greatest achievement for me does not end by the knowledge that someone was able to read my novel from cover to cover but is to know that in one point or another, my work changed the course of a person's history. I don't care if I don't get to be in the New York Times Best Sellers List.
Writing is all about making history not making headlines.
About a Blog
Bloggers like Vincey and Joshua have written about the apparent sudden explosion in the numbers of online ranters specially this summer season. Yup, as I recall the "Big Bang Theory"(which I can no longer find), Emeric's views on the blogger flora and fauna, from a dismal number of less than ten, MaScian bloggers increased in numbers to more than 25. It's more than obvious to see that more and more people are logging in the internet and finding it as a big new world they can fit into. And where would these wanderers stay in this new frontier? Weblogs.
Weblogging is an old craft that has received new attention these days. But why the sudden interest in speaking one's mind? Frankly, there is no one clear answer to this. As how much hair there is at the top of my head, so is the number of reasons why people spend hours typing paragraphs and studying CSS. Here are a few ones:
1. People want to be heard. The youth, specially, has so much to say yet there is no one who listens. It came to me that almost all young people have a knack for gab. I wonder why there are so few Filipino novelists out there.
2. People want to find people to connect to. No man is an island they say. From the passion for movies and books to the aftershocks of heartaches and conflicts, bloggers seek for readers who would understand them or share in their interests. It's no wonder why once upon a time, my tag-board was filled with words of comfort from unknown blog-hoppers.
3. People are bored. It's time for the summer bummer days. If you're not frolicking in the water, you're lying in the couch doing nothing. So why not channel the stagnant energy and angst to pushing keys in a board? People are surprising themselves at how good they can get in writing.
4. People want to get noticed. People want to be in center stage and catch lauds. So why not do it in the biggest stage of all - the internet?
5. People want to know how much they measure by another's yardstick. This applies to writers and aspiring writers (such as me) who simply want to sharpen the axe. That's why almost all blogs have Haloscan linkages.
6. People want to remember. Man's memory bank is treacherous. No matter how sweet or bitter a parcel of your life is, in one point or another, you'll forget how it felt. You'll forget what raced through your psyche at the very instances when the emotions were set loose. Thus, blogging is a walk down memory lane, literally. This may even explain why some bloggers often use the pronoun you. They may seem to be communicating to the people whom he/she expects to waste time reading his/her mental gymnastics but actually, he's just talking to himself. Or maybe not.
7. People are people. Man is God's most beautiful and mysterious creation. I, a measly blogger with a measly blog, can never come close to giving a rationalization of man's actions nor thoughts. But one thing's for sure, people are natural bloggers.
My personal reasons: One of the reasons why I maintain a weblog is because it aides me to overcome the writer's block whenever I am making a reaction paper. But that is not the foremost reason why I entered the blogging scene. Blogging helped me in times of intense emotional outbursts. I remembered my first post on my first blog (koroibus.blog-city.com), back in the November of 2003. My template back then was a standard-issue. No tagboard. No Haloscan. No hit counters. No links (well I only knew of one blogger, the one who told me about it, Kareeza). It was the only post in that blog. It was a direct to the point article on how bad I feel about my parents not wanting me to go to my last YMCA leadership seminar. It was my first time and it didn't involve any flowery words that I am known for. It was my entry to the shaky world of blogging and I didn't even know it.
Weblogging is upon us whether you write it or not. But will it stay? Well, that's a hard call. People may just be in it for the fad but it doesn't matter anyway. Weblogging is free and thinking is humanity in its purest essence. Let the faddists do what they do. But there are a lot of serious ranters and writers out there who'll stick around for a long time and who'll keep the cyber world spinning like never before.
What's your reason for blogging? Tell me via the Comments function below. I'm dying to know all about it. Promise.