uncaused cause

you sit there. a let-out breath, a flicker of your eyes, a twitch of lips, a kindling of your limbs. a machine with a myriad of processes and routes within your systems. and what do they say? a product of billions of years in the making, an evolved organism, a surviving animal in the big dome of the blind watchmaker. ah yes, a passing, an accidence! you are no longer the prisoners in a cave talking about the casted shadows, not even an image of the divine, nor a subject of the greatest inquiry. not anymore, no more. they say you are just a passing. nothing more.
you sit there. a flash from this screen, a cluster of symbols, an array of colors, a capture of your eye, and finally an acumen made by your three-and-a-half-kilo master organ. wow, a series and multitude of firings and firings for just a snap of time. and what do they say? a mere mechanism to fit in the changing pool of animals, an adaptation, a natural tendency of specialized structures that lie within your inside. you are no longer the discoverer of the mathematical constants, no more! they say you are an accidence.
you sit there. a question, a wry, a confusion.. or an apathy, a boredom or a nothing. maybe perturbed, maybe not. worry not, you are as they say a species of passing and of accidence.
you sit there. a machine of orderly, organized, beautiful myriad of mechanisms.
a passing? an accidence?
you sit there. think. think again.

(Written Wednesday, June 07, 2006)

clickin' and clickin'

when the clock strikes eleven, my life gets predictable. in front of a screen, attending to at least five open cyber windows, chatting with some friends, listening to and singing along (closed eyes and head-banging) with kelly clarkson's "walk away", while drinking a glass of milk, then, pausing from time to time trying to purge the ruins out of me in a blog. nothing occupies me for the past days except for some decaying ruins inside me. it's ineffable, so complicated, i'm completely blank! but there is a very long list of things i wish to do. oh, to finish my plays that i was writing for almost over five months already, to start the new one that is bombarding me lately, to read another lorca piece again, to memorize a good sonnet once more, to go to the beach and drink a godiva vodka under a blue moon, to make a short story for my father, and finally to have a whole day and night talking and talking and singing and singing and dancing and dancing with my friends. but for these past days, i want to spend it with my family before school pulls me out of the house again. sweet but at times boring, haha! i can't believe i'm so idle lately, totally carried away by the soporific days. i want to feel life again like there's no another day, but oh damn this humdrum! oh please, i need a problem, a crack in the pot, a crime, something to splash the water into my face.
...
i am alive at midnight. it's predictable but i am alive because i feel my heart beating with every click of this keyboard. life seems to pass me by, i know. but before i close my eyes, my zygomaticos major and orbicularis oculi contract well. a smile eternal.

(Written Saturday, June 10, 2006)

daughter of eve

i have a long hair, a skinny figure, a good voice, a set of polished nails, a slightly painted eyes, and a fair skin. what's wrong with that? nothing. but there must be something really wrong and i have to find out what it is.
at home with four grown-up, muscled, and literally big brothers, i have to do chores otherwise i am to be labeled a lazy and untrained female. i have to be home before eight- a sort of curfew, all right. i even have to try my luck to have my folks understand certain things that i have to do, however it may seem so noble or academic or honest. it's hard especially when they know you have a boyfriend- even if he is a great achiever or a spiritual man. they would downgrade such things into a common thinking that he is either a passing or a future headache. haha! whereas, my brothers- oh yes, how i envy them. they could strut anytime they want. they could enjoy the outside with all their freakin' might. aaahhh! i thought this is the twenty sixth century already. oh yes it is but at home it's not even the nineteen hundred.
but i have a big brain to understand what's going on. society says, i have to be protected, i have to be well taken care of, i have to be keenly watched over, i have to be seriously guarded, i have to be restricted and restrained, i have to be controlled. why? why? why?
look at me. i have a long hair, a skinny figure, a good voice, a set of polished nails, a slightly painted eyes, and a fair skin.
try to look at me again. i have an eloquence, i have a brilliance, an intelligence, a character. i have a life to live! why then such misery? aahh, yes, i see... i know now!
my uterus sucks the life out of me.

(Written Thursday, June 08, 2006)

darn luv

other line: (crying) 'tang ina nya, toni! ginago nya ko! bat ganun? he promised hindi nya ako iiwan sa ere.
toni: eh ganun eh. ewan.
other line: it hurts so so much, sobra! mababaliw na ko. please come over, i can't handle this. i feel so alone and shattered....(crying becomes louder)...
toni: im sorry i cant. i have to stay here sa house. why don't you just tell me what you plan to do?
other line: i don't know. if he'd come back, i wouldn't accept him agad. ayokong ganun lang kadali...
toni: haha! as if he'd even think of you despite ng lahat noh!
other line: (crying becomes deafeningly louder) he.... this...he...that...he...this...that...he....this...that...he...this...that...he...
toni: (hardly listening) okay, okay, whatever... you know what? all you have to do is very simple...
(sudden silence)
other line: what?
toni: NOT to include your name in the "STUPID GIRLS LIST"!
(silence)
toni: hello, you there?
(tut...tut...tut...tut...tut...tut...)
toni: (in her thoughts) waaaaahhhh! that's a goddamn soothing advise. honey, it's a joke, but it's true! hahaha!

(Written 05 June 2006)

refraction

girl, you're the most disgusting creature. the only thing that concerns you is your self. you'd always think you look far better than me, that you own the world and i don't, that you're admired for many things i can never become. you drown yourself with the thought that people like you because you're damn beautiful and interesting, whereas you'd think i'm boring and hollow. you say i'm paranoid and worthless and that makes me even more more boring. and what? you think you're interesting? why? ah, by your pretentious writings, by some superfluous words, by make-believe principles, by your self-ornamented life, and of course by your very tell-tale heart. how disgusting indeed! the truth is, you are a hideous animal. you are driven by the very innate drive of an animal- - the shit within you!
girl, how i loathe you! you are full of shit! eeerrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhh!
oh please, get off my mirror.

(Written 11pm 25 may 2006 qc home, angered by a shitful girl)

o draconian devil, o lame saints...

the moment the movie ended, i heard my father said: "i am confused", and my mother saying: "i am not convinced". welp, i otherwise believe that the movie does not intend either way. it's a movie, it's commercial, it's hollywood, etcetera, etcetera...what do you expect? so, to start with this blogging about my movie experience, i shall first talk about the movie- it's formal elements, it's artistic nature, it's creative pursuit, its production, blah, blah,blah...huh...spoken like a true critic! i have always loved ron howard's direction and this time, i think he really did a great job in finally giving life to dan brown's pop-culturally disturbing book. i'd read the book almost more than a year ago, primarily out of social dictation and a little bit of curiosity, and tom hanks never crossed my mind to personify the robert langdon i met in the book (but audrey tautou seems appropriate to be the sophie neauveau). but, I do love the way tom hanks performed in the movie, wow, so unexpected. of course, take that from r. howard's direction. hmm, i would not want to dwell in this formal critique- one could get a lot of that from websites, from professional critics themselves, or from laymen who have enthusiastically watched the film.

it's a funny thing though that the movie board rated the film R-18. they are idiots! they make people idiots, and the more they restrain idiotic people from viewing the film, the more they appear to more idiotic, ha, far more idiotic indeed. what are they so afraid of anyway? let me guess... ecclesiastic contradictions, doctrinal fallacy, outright blasphemy...name it... bottom line, they are afraid that it may d-i-s-t-u-r-b our faith. anyone who've read the book must notice that in dan brown's foreword, though the organizations (e.g. priory of zion) included in the book is deemed realistic based on his personal researches, he on the other hand explicitly stated that the story (including plot and characters) is but a fiction. so any sane person who understand the word "fiction" should right away take the author's word for it. is it that hard to understand?

on the way back home, my parents seemed a little bit affected with the movie. my mother said that whether or not jesus married somebody, it wouldn't matter because like what sophie said in the movie, he could still make miracles and be a messiah. but i told my mother that even though such argument seems right and sound and rational, still there is a problem with it- it contradicts the biblical account about the identity of jesus. she agreed. but the truth is i am not really trying to argue or defend faith. NOT at this time, not against the movie, because like what i said, it is pointless to argue about it when the author himself pointed out that it is but a fiction. so, enough with religious arguments! one who thinks right would instead think about what one could get from the film (of course, aside from entertainment, things like great thoughts).

for me, the book and the movie presents to us NOT a big-world dilemma on religious doctrines, nor a da vinci code quest, nor some mysterious, metaphysical quest for the grail, nor debate on jesus' divinity-versus-humanity, nor issues with the vatican and opus dei, nor some exaggerated battle between good and evil or truth and myth. no! it requires from us a good understanding of what we have come to believe in, probably in life as a whole or more specifically in our beliefs or principles or in whatever aspect. i noticed that the end of the movie suggests to us a different perspective towards the entire film. we have journeyed with robert langdon and have come to a conclusion that sophie turns out to be a descendant of jesus. but, at the very end of the film, something happens. langdon found another interpretation of the map of the grail, which then leads him to the louvre as the burial site of magdalene and not the rosslyn church where they have previously found out about sophie's lineage. a little bit confusing maybe, but i could think otherwise.

so, my movie experience ends with the timeless principle by socrates- that indeed, the unexamined life is not worth living. to examine our lives, our beliefs, our faith, our journey, just as how Langdon may have come to discover the da vinci code... maybe, this is what i could get from the movie. like what has always been repeated in the entire film, the eyes chooses what it wants to see. so, let my eyes then choose what i want to see. but, i would not want to elaborate more in what i have come to see or examine in my life. that would be my own personal story. and you, maybe, may have a different one. in whatever aspect it may be, nothing bits a good thinking about life.

------------
"The prospect of death is such a strong motivation."
-spoken by Silas, The Da Vinci Code

(Written 20 May 2006)

when i am sad...

(1) i usually have a stock of chocolates and eat voraciously each minute, which would then result to my monthly tonisilitis attack, and would only end up being under a medical observation as to whether i am to undergo a tonsilectomy...what riddance!
(2) i would sleep for several hours when the sun is up, but would get totally insomniac at night, which would then make my entire body ache like hell, and would push me again to be addicted with ibuprofen.
(3) i would sing with an unimaginable enthusiasm in front of a mirror, and then perform the best headbang at the deafening tune of linkin park and paparoach (which in normal mood, i wouldn't even dare to listen to).
(4) i'll be suddenly transformed to an extreme hopeless-highschoolish-romantic girl, punching hard all the available cable channels just to look for a feel-good-and-sleepy-love-story movie.
(5) i would open a box, which contains all the letters given to me by friends/girl-friends/boyfriends, and then i would find myself smiling not because of any sweet-nothings but because of a bad grammar, haha!
(6) i would sit beside my brother as he attentively watches the cnn news and would instead divert his interest to jack tv or etc or whatsoever whacky tv show, and by the time he notices what i did, the news he so awaited for is already over. =)
(7) i would finish reading a book in just a few hours, but end up forgetting the story after a few days.
(8) i would assume that everybody else is sadder than i am, and that left me to be the happiest, hahaha!
(9) i would talk and talk and talk. then, laugh and laugh and laugh...then i'd be so elated, excited, and euphoric!
(10) then, finally, i would write craps like this!

(Written 11:35 pm 16may2006 qc home, feeling sad.)

j'adore francais

j'adore le français mais français ne m'adore pas
j'aime étudier le français mais français me déteste
que ferai-t-je ? je souhaite apprendre le français
vous comprendez ceci? alors, au moins je sais quelque français.

(Written 4:36 pm 12 may 2006 qc)

unwell

I’m getting insomniac. I keep on thinking about something. I would at times get up in the middle of the night or more correctly at around 2am, and end up facing my computer instead. I tried to continue on with the play I’m writing but I can’t seem to find words or try to read an online journal, but would end up writing in my most dependable blog. My mind gets blank and then would again keep on thinking about something. My feelings – I am so stricken by my feelings. But hey, I am not and NEVER depressed. I am completely sane but am getting crazy because of this feeling. This is too much, it is so unbearable. I may be speaking here without concreteness, but this is a purgation of my soul. I am stricken by my feelings. Suddenly my big, big life is converted into a small box containing an unbearable feeling. I can’t speak it out, that’s why I am exploding. I can’t speak it out or express it openly simply because I shouldn’t. I am again singing a love song.

(Written 12:15am 8 may 2006, qc)

the scepter of the working people

Waking up from a good sleep one early morning, i looked outside and could already hear the mangtataho, looking so ghastly wearing his usual ragged and knee-cut denim and a loose white shirt. His back, i noticed, was already hunched probably because of carrying the two big bin of the taho, nevertheless untraceable in how he shouts the usual loud and para-melodic call for customers. Indeed one of our great working men, i thought. And you see, he is just one of the millions and billions of working people in this world.
Oftentimes, we usually admire and adore those who earn a lot of money or those who own a big company or those who have proudly attained an education from the best schools. Why not? That is life in its truest nature. No hypocrite could deny such thing! Yet, how keen do we notice those simple people who have worked the hardest, those that spend their day standing or sitting or waiting as the nature of their work demands. You could see them in a day, and as for me, i see them in the campus and i am happy to say that a close encounter with them makes me feel that life is for each one's asking.
I've known the PHAN ate's for four years now. They are the people who have been patiently considerate of our agitation every time we want to rush a double copy of our notes and our books. I would at time notice the manong's in AS and in CAL who who just sit in a corner or walk along waiting for something to happen, as they busily guard the vicinity. Just beside the FC, there is Manong Mer who serves the best footlong there is in the campus- a very principled and spiritual man. There are those ate's who wear the blue shirt, unceasingly cleaning every classroom. And whew! Everywhere you can see them, you might already had a short and casual encounter with them, or maybe you would sometimes laugh with them in the middle of their gossiping about those that you completely have no idea about.
I have to confess that before i would always utter: “nakakaawa naman!” But to experience a close encounter with them, even just a short chat with them, made me think that they are great people with great stories. It feels good to sometimes empathize with them especially when they would say that they could hardly live a day anymore because it is so hard to make a living. Despite how from time to time they feel regretful or weary about life, they still keep on working and living. They would always mention their children us their primary source of motivation. These working people are not just mere working fellows who seem to serve us- they are after all, great men, great fathers and great mothers, living simple lives and who nevertheless have great and extraordinary stories.
And above every hard work these working people have, one can learn from them one of the greatest principles in life- to be happy inspite of what life can and cannot offer.
This is a good perspective towards these people- “hanga hindi awa”! The working people- they make me feel that life is all ours for the asking.

-----------
Wife: All of life, my dear, is casting off......
Willy: No...some people achieve something...
-The Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller

(Written 4:58PM 5 May 2006, QC)

surviving summer with dead cats

a very hot and crowded room, hardly ventilated, and the obnoxious smell of the dead cats... maybe the last thing to enjoy a beautiful summer. but then again i have to face expediency as usual so as to attain what i deem is a higher purpose. yeah right, this is exactly an expedient course, otherwise when can i wear the sablay then? so this is summer 2006 for me: aggressively skinning dead cats, cutting relentlessly through the depths of their viscera, irritatingly looking for such a minute duct, mistaking a mesentery for a vein, memorizing an array of seemingly latin terminologies, crying and sniffing caused by a wiping solution, bombarding a professor with too many questions ranging from sheer nothings or of an honest curiosity, and finally cramming for an exam every other two days. errgh! expediency, period!

this is the only subject that made me cry. honest. i cried the night before the first lec exam because i can't seem to memorize the taxanomy of the vertebrates. i can't even completely understand why the heck do i have to do this. again, i convinced myself saying "expediency, dear friend!" i cried so hard because all i wanted is to get a fair standing but it seemed to me that by those times i can't even compose myself or find a clear and senseful motivation. i read the books not to learn but to memorize for the immediate exam the next day. i missed the thrill of truly learning biology because time constraint seem to be a big and extraneous factor in my learning process. consolidation of memory is best achieved when the brain is at its utmost functioning- by that i mean, good metacognition and genuine motivation. and that i didn't have by those days.

so i told my mother that i want to drop this killer subject, primarily because i was really suffering from what i deemed to be an irrational (could be rational too) fear of failing. but she said that i have to keep going and should care less if i got a failing grade in the first exam as long as i would try to do better for the rest. the truth is i don't want to fail or be the lowest in our class because that would really make me feel so inferior. i don't want to feel that i'm the least. that's honest. but i decided to pursue the course so that i could finally overcome such fear. lately, i am enjoying dissecting cat- at least close to our anatomy, which i am more interested in. though i am not that interested in comparative anatomy of vertebrates, i convinced myself again with the same thought: for expediency's sake!

so now, my summer 2006 will soon end. i learned a great lesson: LOOSEN UP!

(Written 4 May 2006)

suka

sabi ko sa sarili, "napakawalang kwenta ng karamihan ng mga taga-UP". totoo yon. akala nila, mababago nila ang mundo. kala mo kung sinong nakakaalam ng kahirapan ng mga tao, kala mo kung sinong nagmamarunong. ang gagaling magrason, ang daming reklamo sa buhay, lahat napupuna liban sa sarili. puro kagaguhan. sa klase ang gagaling magtalak. ayaw daw sa imperyalista, ayaw sa mga kano, ayaw sa presidente, at pinakakagaguhan- ayaw daw sa sistema. pweh, kala mo naman kung sinong nakapagtapos ng law o kaya naman kala nila kung sinong nakakainitindi sa mga "isms" na pinagsasabi. may nagpupumilit na sistema daw kalaban at di mga tao. kagaguhan!!! di ba tao din naman yong gumagawa ng sistema. mga tanga, puro salita la namang konkretong panukala. ang iba naman kala mo kung sinong pwedeng mamuno, la naman laman ang utak. nagmamagaling! pag-aawayan naman minsan kung reporma o rebolusyon. pambihira! lang kwenta at aksaya ng oras. puro reklamo, puro kritisismo, asan ba ang paggawa?
di ko alam pero minsan ganito ang pakiramdam ko. nabubuwisit sa kanila. hayaan nyo na ako isa lamang itong suka!

(Written 7:45PM 5 February 2006)

a speech for papa

my earliest memory was when my father taught me to write the number 8 when i was just four, and i would insist on writing a zero over zero- a memory telling me the very role he had in my life. an EDUCATOR. he was the source of my passion for books, great books! i remembered growing up in the province and whenever there was a typhoon, while my mother was so busy fretting and working on the windowlocks of our house, my father was there in a chair, reading a book. he was the one who introduced me to great literateurs, and in fact, he was far better than me when it comes to classic literature. he knows shakespeare, browning, eliot, and many others far better than as i do. until now, he would at times bombard me and my Kuya with lines and speeches. i'm so proud to say that my father is intelligent, but more important than this is the very reason i am here (in front of you). no other than his HARDWORK. if you only know everything that he'd been through- wow, no daughter could be so proud. my father worked hard to finish his studies, strived hard to be an educator, and did great to be a supervisor. no daughter could be prouder than me. no story as my father's have ever touched my life, no other story than the story of my father. his hardwork and his passion in life.
papa, you remember telling me this: "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may for time is flying. The flower that blooms today tomorrow will be dying." i remember it well. and all the little and great success that i have, you are a big big part of it. i am a fruit of your hardwork. i hope that inasmuch as i am so so proud of you, i'll be able to make you proud too. for indeed a teacher affects eternity- you are a teacher to me and an eternal inspiration. thank you so so much, papa.
(Written 12:40am 26 January 2006 QC)

the wooden box

the old man has to wake up. he tried and he did. when he got up, he stretched out his hand a little to somehow relieve the pressure on his back, which he always feel every morning because of the hard and old bed with just a bed mat on it. he yawned and was suddenly drawned to look at the four figures lying on the far side of the bed. they were so young and thin, all bodies clutched by a small cloth. just yesterday they were able to give him 100 pesos, a half more than what they earn from selling plastic bottles, which they would gather from trash cans or from waiting on someone to finish his drink in a street. the man was happy for his children's hardwork, but as he was watching all of them that morning, he felt pity. but no, he tried to get rid of that feeling for he only suffers- for many years, he had suffered until recently that he convinced himself not to feel that way anymore, though he knew very well, it is inevitable.

he got up, ate only twopieces of pandesal for he has to spare the rest for his children. he had some sips of the pale coffee and prepared himself the way he routinely does it everyday. he then left the house with a wooden box in his right hand and a stool in his left. he walked and walked and walked until he reached the busy street of the metro, and positioned the stool beside a street and he sat there with the opened wooden box. he knew so well that it was seven o'clock because of the students and employees passing along the street where he was sitting. one of them halted beside him, grasped something from the wooden box and dropped two pesos in it. he smiled.
the day rushed by. the old man got up and went home with the wooden box and the stool. he checked out his pocket. he felt the hard coins and the crisp of papers. he took it out as he was walking slowly. he stopped by a store and planned to buy something which his children would be happy about when he gets home. he looked at his hands. one hundred eighty-five pesos and 25 centavos. he smiled. he was happy and contented.


---------------
walking along katipunan road near aurora avenue, you'll see an old man in the street sitted beside a small wooden box with compartments for candies and cigarettes. i happen to walk pass through him one very hot mid-day last year. it was so so hot that i could not even stand under the sunlight for a second that i have to use my umbrella and really walk so briskly until i find some shade. he was just there under that very very hot sun, beside the wooden box, sweating but composed. i had for myself six candies and gave him four pesos. he smiled.

(written 12:15AM 8 January 2005 QC)

matters of consequence*

I remembered being in the same situation as the pilot’s when one evening as I was so entrenched with doing my homework in physics– having my back stressfully curved towards the table, my hands tightly gripped to the calculator which shows a four-digit value instead of the three-digit found in the answer key on the final pages of the physics book, and already stricken by the sophoriphic quietness of my room – my niece knocked on the door as enthusiastically as she usually does, then proudly showed me her drawing, which according to her is a castle, and pointed at the two stick-figures she referred to as her parents. I was really irritated being disturbed in the middle of an almost unbearable situation, hardly paying attention to the kid, and my response was a deliberate frown, a few nods and “uh-huh” sounds, brushing her out my room. I was right away back to my dealings with
Newton’s law, yet suddenly found myself having absolutely no idea what to do. I let out a sigh, dropped my pen, flexed my arms for a little while, then a whisper: matter of consequence. I felt pity for my niece for how I treated her and sadness for myself for forgetting the principles I should have lived with. These principles and ideologies, I learned them from reading great books or from some great people with great stories, or more importantly, I learned them by myself from my own experiences. It’s really a sad thing, a disappointing one, to find one’s self again in a slate- an empty slate, or worse a grimy slate. How often do I spend my time reading and reading, then writing and writing, then speaking and speaking about life’s ideals, should-be’s, essentials and ending up not seeing them in myself. I let go of them because of some certain situations I deem to be inevitable and beyond my control. I forget them because the inner animal in me is something more real. I am sad and ruined by this reality – that I am not what I should be. Am I just creating my own psychological horror?
I would want to stop for a while and survey the life that I am living, to look at other people, to hear their stories, to love and love and live. (Auden must be right: Love or perish!)
If I would only will in my heart…. Things are beyond possibility.


* The little price told the pilot:”I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman. He has never smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never loved any one. He has never done anything in his life but add up figures. And all day he says over and over, just like you: ‘I am busy with matters of consequence!’ - Le Petite Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery

(Written 9:20PM 21 Dec 2005 qc. Pic source: snoot.org)

fearing Yakee

Do you remember the first time you tasted “Yakee” gum? How your face looked like the very moment your tongue rolled against that round gum? Or how you even tried to resist your friends pushing you to taste it? As for me, I remember it so well. I was just a kid when my brother lent me one red “Yakee” gum, already been told that tasting one would be a total disaster, that I would surely puke or cry. As a kid, I had that little nervousness on actually seeing one before me- and worse, being pushed by my brother to taste the “horrible” gum. I didn’t give in to what a kid see as an enticement. I was pretty convinced that it sure was a “horrible, horrible” gum. But I end up wondering why my brother and friends are chewing more of that gum all day, seeing how their faces initially looked like. So I tried to taste the gum. Yes, it tasted like hell the moment it was in my mouth but later on, it was rather delicious. (It’s really not the taste that made me love it but the thought that I was able to bear the “horrible” taste.)
Even as a kid, we already face little experiences as this. I say, little nervousness or more correctly little fear. As grown-ups, things are different but the substance is just the same. We are now even more exposed to bigger situations and bigger fears, but the underlying substance is the same. What I mean is that fear is important. It is some sort of evolutionary mechanism for most of the species to survive. It alarms us to a threatening situation, signals us to back out for a moment during a dangerous phenomenon – all for our survival. Yet more surprisingly, it becomes our motivation. How very often are we motivated to avoid something that is fearful than being motivated to experience happiness? Fear really is something, don’t you agree? It oftentimes derides us to limit ourselves on what we can do or what we can experience. I totally agree that it has become our motivation, but we as a rational being with the goodness that we can become, should be able to transcend the survival tendency of an animal. Do we live just to survive or with that common thinking as perpetuation of species? No! Never! Fear succumbs to those who wallow in it.

(Written 10:45Pm 21 Dec 2005 QC. Pic Source: www.confectioncollection.com)

tears for wonka

'twas midnight and i could hardly sleep, still my mind occupied with that wonderful land of green and brown. the beautiful willy wonka's chocolate factory. i felt that at the very moment i was watching it, i was part of his world wanting that golden ticket of the most famous chocolatier of the world. but the more real world was that i was sitting beside my little niece that night watching the green-brown world of willy wonka on a screen. but no, i seemed to be in such reverie- not just like the sweet excitement of my niece or any child when watching anything with colors- it was more than that of a child's awe. it was, in fact, a twenty-year-old's deep enchantment.
as the great chocolatier toured me inside his genius inventions, i've come to slowly witness the stakes of gluttony or selfishness or schemes or pride. in wonka's world, i learned that trully the meek inherits the earth. it was that little boy, charlie, who taught me once again that a heart with the greatest values always wins the race.
how i wish i could properly relay to you the great journey i experienced within the few hours of being there in the wonka's land. i've come to know willy wonka himself as well. a genius eccentric man as he is, his undying principles were carried out with much wit and genuity. for him, the normal way of life like cooking is more important than the promising complete-meal-gum. wonka's happiness is so simple. TO MAKE WONKA BARS. and how could i ever get over with the end scene? willy wonka and his father trully made me cry. but i have no wish to spoil this great great story.
remember, when the time comes that you have in your hands a wonka bar, check for the golden ticket. you've got to meet the great wonka and his chocolate factory workers singing...

Oompa-loompa-doompity-doo!

(Written 18 December 2005. Pic source: pub.tv2.no)

viviparity*

That is just one FACT among the vast array of evidences that makes us far different from all other organisms. And yes, much more. Truly marvelous to know or even just witness how a parent shapes its progeny. The mother, above all, makes all the difference. (Though among others like the marsupials, fraternal care is evident.) Among our species, of course, the mother has such an all-too-seemingly instinctive yet venerable goodness- an incomparable love in its truest and purest sense. At her first sight of her child, she is exceedingly happy. She sees in him all the goodness of life. She caresses him, not thinking of the responsibility; she only feels love, so genuine. She would be anxious when the child starts to enter school, but she gives out a sigh upon seeing the innocent smile from the child. She wants him to be happy, above all. When the child becomes a grown up, uneasiness seems to be a constant company to a mother. But, she knows her child so well. She knows him personally, not just ending up with a mediocre knowledge of the child’s personality. She knows the child so well, just as the child knows her. She listens to him all the time. She never wants to insist all that she wants for her child. She only wishes for his happiness. To make the child feel unloved and rejected is the last thing in her mind. Only love and happiness persist!

I wish I have known one. I will for sure.

*commonly among mammals, wherein the embryo develops inside the mother; at birth, parental care and nurture are present.

(Written 28 November 2005. Pic source: http://www.flickr.com/photos)

shakespeare hath not died...not yet!

it is a sad thing to finally feel how much of one's self is lost when a pen's frigate was left to oblivion. i never really kept a journal of my own to be so determined to purgate all that's inside my head. all i had are but scribblings on some sheets of paper, not even intending to make them last. nonetheless, i keep with me a beautiful poetry notebook. eternal words, i thought to myself... words truly kill us. and so words truly kill THE artist within us. they carry with them a passion that moves people and derides thinkers. they seem fleeting when spoken, but when they are written down, they become eternal. some sort of purpose comes through them. so, shall i let this spectacle fade away? never!

"...so long as men could breathe and eyes could see, so long lives this and this gives life to thee." -Sonnet 118, W.Shakespeare

(written 15 October 2005 . pic source: http://www.u.arizona.edu/~mlbrown/431A.html)