I CANNOT WRITE

Given that I (still) have no followers, I'd say sorry to myself instead because lately I've been running out of things to say here on my blog. Even efforts (that usually come before bedtime) to form one seem to flutter. You know, that zestful drive to write once an idea enters my mind but then fades away as soon as I make up my mind that I'm too sleepy to bother thinking. As a result, the next morning, I always remember virtually nothing of one or two acceptable introductory paragraphs I mentally composed. The lesson I've learned: Put them on paper.

Now, deciding that it is indeed a must to have them in writing, the more reprehensible part than not having written at all follows: I can't finish my pieces, but instead write about another entirely new topic that interests me. The result: backlogs I don't even know when to be accomplished, or worse, if I would still set out to accomplish.

The problem is ideas unkindly leave my side as I go along with writing. A writer's block, that's how real writers call that "psychological inhibition." But in my case, I suppose it's rather an "intellectual inhibition."

I usually end up asking myself questions like "Where the heck is this article going to?" and "Do I really want to write about this?" I take a break of course, letting my mind wander for a moment, to get inspiration. Reading is but an inspiration for me so I read whatever readable is available at hand. Once finished, I continue writing and then read my work to myself. Then it hits me: Why can't I write as good as the ones I read? I want to be just like those writers whose works I'm bowled over by. I want to be on par with their writing prowess. I want to be a good writer. I want to influence others, make them ponder over what I write, or better yet impress them. I want to express myself. Then again, if I would benchmark myself against other 'writers', I cannot even write.

CREATIVITY...(ugh, whaddaya think is the 'more appropriate' term for 'reactivate again,' if there's one?!)

For friends who love dolphins.
(One of whom made me realize that my dolphin
is a cross between one and a whale.)

CREATIVITY REACTIVATE!

This is for Annika Rein, a daughter of an officemate
and also happens to be my first-ever godchild.



I have always been partial to drawing the sea.

CREATIVITY ACTIVATE!

Just realized that my recent posts all have photos in them. So, in order to keep up with the flow, I'll be publishing MY artworks (ehem!) created with AppleWorks in the succeeding entries. On that note, I'd be totally remiss if I won't mention that I set out to do such because I was inspired by someone whose blog I follow. I admit that my drawings don't hold a candle to hers; all the same, I take pride in whatever creative stuff my hands can do.



The one that started it all! lol


After seeing my first AppleWorks Drawing output, an officemate-slash-friend
requested that I also make her one, with the sun as the subject
and her favorite color as the background.

STRESS STRESSED

AN EYE CANDY FOR ORIGAMI LOVERS LIKE ME

Here's the recent list of origami books and kits I'm supposed to be excited about yet not to have at the moment (oh, there goes negativism again!), but someday who knows I just might (see, there's still hope for someone like me). They list for $6.95 to $24.95.

(Source: Tuttle catalog Bookshelves Issue 04/10)

I WISH I HAD ONE OF AMORSOLO'S

I have invariably marveled at artworks of Filipino pride and recognized as the first National Artist for Painting Fernando Amorsolo. For everytime I see one of his paintings, even in pictures, it's as if I know where that place is and it feels like I have been there. The odd familiarity of the landscapes and the scenes in his paintings always makes me feel "home." So, imagine me swelling with pride when I incidentally learned that he spent his childhood years in Daet, Camarines Norte. First I thought that we probably have the same gene pool of Bicolano, but I eventually found out that he just spent the first 13 years of his life in Bicol and was actually born in Manila. At any rate, it's just the same: at some point in our lives, we had breathed the same air. And that makes me a little prouder of where I'm from.

Here are some of his works (which actually number 10,000+ by the way):

Planting Rice, oil on canvas,1951, 24x34

Sunday Morning Going to Town, oil on canvas, 1958

Fruit Pickers Under the Mango Tree, oil on canvas, 1937, 25 1/4 x 37 1/2

Planting Rice with Mayon Volcano, oil on canvas, 1949, 70x100.5

VERBALIZED

The Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary primarily denotes "verbalize" as an action word that means "to speak or write verbosely" or "to express something in words," but its transitive use "to convert — a word, especially a noun — into a verb" is the best definition of the word at which I'm going to peg this topic.

As it has been said many times and I'm sure will sound the most banal idea within one's lifetime, the advent of technological advances has allowed man to do things posthaste with just a few clicks and tricks. Consistent with this great leap is our penchant in anything "terse" and "easy." It is as if we are running out of time and need to accomplish eleventh-hour day-to-day tasks one after another. We tend to shorten ways to deal with them, even to speak of them. We tend, therefore, to "verbalize" the seemingly kilometric-long description of the things we do: in one word.

Funny, but I've recently figured out that I encounter these "verbed" words every day, just by looking straight ahead or simply snooping into someone else's loud thoughts.

For one, as I was aboard the commuter train en route to work this noon, I noticed these plastic handles enclosing an advert of haircare product Vitress, which instead of being prolix in their promotion of the product, conveniently just have something like "Shine More. Get Vitressed." So if you want your hair to be as shiny as a newly polished pair of shoes, "Vitress." Short yet a very good copy for an out-of-home advertisement, to speak nothing of its chiming in with its fast-paced target consumers who are commuter train riders.

Among professional photographers, shutterbugs and specifically those who are not quite gifted with "the eye" (which actually include me), the word "Photoshop," or "photoshop" to be politically correct, is commonplace. Using the word "photoshop" — a registered name for a computer program — to tweak photos gained ground during the 1990s and is as popular today as it was then.

Another popular word of this kind — and easily my favorite — is the ubiquitous "Google," also "google." The search engine's proprietary name has been for years synonymous with "research." That is, if you are going to research for something on the Internet, "google it on Google" (one can use Yahoo! though, just to be fair). Of late I've been wondering what will happen if in the future a much more ace search engine is invented. Would we still use "google"? Or maybe I'm just one of those technology casualties who still are pitiably behindhand of this computer stuffs and unaware that there's already a better "Google" out there. I hope not.

To transfer a file from an electronic device to another one, e.g. from a cellphone to a computer or vice versa, through short-range wireless connection between them, we have been wont to say the colloquial phrase: "Bluetooth it"; "eBay it" when we talk about, yes, that popular online marketplace; and "YouTube it" if we need to watch a video on "the largest video-sharing community" on the Internet.

Indeed, verbing words seems to be the standard nowadays and one can talk about lots of them here, but let's just make this short, can we?

HAIKU No. 4

TRANSITION
In a line of trees,
there's one, sans leaves, sans colors;
waiting for what's next.

(Image from here)

I'M DROOLING OVER THIS BOOK! AND I WANT IT NOW!

Well, sorry for that. As much as I wanted to lay my eyes on the pages of this graphic memoir, the title won't be available until the second week of April next year. I do have the choice to pre-order it from Amazon, but my fiscal capacity won't allow me to fork out $15.61 (which is roughly P700) for this book.

Here's a lowdown on the book anyway. Credits go to Tuttle Publishing's site, as well as that of the book's front cover photo.

Florent Chavouet, a young graphic artist, spent six months exploring Tokyo while his girlfriend interned at a company there. Each day he would set forth, with a pouch full of colored pencils and a sketchpad, and visit different neighborhoods. This stunning book records the city that he got to know during his adventures, a gritty, vibrant place, and full of ordinary people going about their daily lives. Realistically rendered city views or posters of pop stars contrast with cartoon sketches of iconic objects or droll vignettes, like a housewife walking her pet pig, and a Godzilla statue in a local park.

Florent Chavouet observes that, “Tokyo is said to be the most beautiful ugly city in the world.” With wit, a playful sense of humor, and the colored pencils of his kit, he sets aside the question of urban ugliness or beauty and captures the Japanese essence of a great city.

HAIKU No. 3

FREE
Looking up I see
blue skies watching over me.
Run, as I feel free!

(Image from here)

HAIKU No. 2

BEST FRIEND
Knows me inside out.
Lends a hand when I stumble.
Will cry when I'm gone.

(Image from here)

A QUOTABLE QUOTE

I really liked this quote from a very good read Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and thought that it was worth mentioning in a blog topic, perhaps about love or the like, but I haven't been much in a lovey-dovey mood of late (and just decided that I don't really want to be). But for the sake of having it posted -- which it rightfully deserves given the enlightenment it has given me about this so-called 'soulmate' -- I'll have it here anyway.

"...Your problem is you don't understand what that word means. People think a soulmate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that's holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soulmate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soulmate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soulmates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it. Your problem is, you just can't let this one go. It's over, Groceries. David's purpose was to shake you up, drive you out of that marriage that you needed to leave, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transfrom your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master and beat it. That was his job, and he did great, but now it's over. Problem is, you can't accept that this relationship had a real short shelf life. You're like a dog at the dump, baby -- you're just lickin' at an empty tin can, trying to get more nutrition out of it. And if you're not careful, that can's gonna get stuck on your snout forever and make your life miserable. So drop it." -- Richard from Texas

I never would have thought a soulmate to be likened with a mirror had I not read this valuable piece of advice given to Groceries (that was how Richard from Texas called Liz back when they were still in this unnamed ashram in India). A soulmate, simply put, reflects what's inside us. He or she does not always correspond to someone of romantic value. And I guess it's all true, after all...

HAIKU No. 1

Here I am, staring at my wide white wall again. Then suddenly, a pencil is picked up and words are started to be woven, ennui-inspired. Below is the creative (how I wish!) result, a haiku.



MY BREAD-AND-BUTTER STORY
Sits all day to read.
Staring at all these words.
Something I enjoy.

(Image from here)

RANDOM QUESTIONS

"Questions, especially if they are the right questions, have great power. A right question asked at the right time can change the direction of our lives."

I may never be adept at asking the right questions at the right time given the you-don't-get-it reply I sometimes get, but the above quote I have taken from a newspaper column seemed to me as somewhat of a pitch for making this particular blog entry — a raft of questions —, just in time for something to fill up my recently empty what's-my-next-topic forethought.

Don't get me wrong, but I never set out to sound like whining or whatsoever. Just wanted to raise these questions (some are too important and perhaps even stock market-moving, others could just go unanswered anyway) here albeit I don't really want to look for the answers now, though hoping at least one could be "answered" soon and then "change the direction of my life" into that course that would sit well with me.

1. What do I really want to do with my life? (Aha! this seems to be atop the list of frequently asked questions of all time! Now I wonder if that was the right question to ask.)
2. Do I really need to take a 'step forward' or a 'step backward' to see things clearly? (sidewards maybe?)
3. What does it feel like to have a tattoo? (Oh the right question must be: "Did it hurt when Lucky Rich and Tom Leppard got theirs?")
4. Why does he treat me this way? (I thought we're at least friends... NEXT QUESTION PLEASE!)
5. What does it mean when you ask someone how is s/he and s/he just answers "just fine," somehow ending the conversation that soon? (no comment. haha)
6. When will I have the courage to defend myself when some friends sometimes amuse themselves at my expense? (To answer this, first I must ask myself, "Do they really amuse themselves by laughing at their own jokes somehow directed at me?" or "Are they just trying to make me laugh?" Now I think it's the latter. For now I've realized that they do such when I seem to be in deep thought and so serious.)
7. What really makes me stay with my job right now? (I feel so confused about this. Can't even think of what to say here actually.)
8. What is the true look of a dandelion? (A friend and I have been bothered by this question for quite a while. The Net is not much of a help either.)
9. Where would I "go" when I finally push up the daisies? (I want to believe in heaven. I hope I would go up there when it's time. *pray*)

My plan had been to list 20 questions, but they seemed to peter out as I enumerated them one by one. I even prodded my seemingly jaded brain to come up with just one more to make it a list of 10, but apparently it did not fare well. Oh my, I don't even have questions to ask! How on earth would I have the right ones?! Yeah, I know I will never have "great power!"

NEWS MAKER

The country's commemorating the National Heroes Day today, also exactly a week after the bloody tourist bus hostage at the Quirino Grandstand. So much public outcry came (and is still coming) on the heels of the said mishap that left eight Hong Kong nationals dead, particularly blaming the local police and the government for being 'too late the hero.'

Call me apathetic, but I do remember having regarded the situation trivial upon seeing the news on TV that early afternoon. Others actually thought the same. My officemates and I, during our coffee break, never put a thought on the safety of the hostages but rather on their need to eat and to use the loo. We trusted the authorities to handle the crisis well, as much as the 20-odd hostages believed that they would go safely back home at the end of that day.

The situation oddly seemed so easy to deal with. The hostage-taker Capt. Rolando Mendoza, a dismissed police officer, though appeared to be armed did not look like he was capable of killing or even hurting his captives. This was further affirmed by the survivors who said Mendoza did tell them early on that he did not intend to hurt anybody and just wanted to have his case be heard again in the court, for him to be reinstated in the service and be able to receive his benefits. He was also plausible enough for releasing at least nine of the hostages amid the requests for him to do so. These actuations of Mendoza somewhat told us that this guy was indeed willing to be cooperative, which, if considered otherwise would have sounded like an underestimation of him. Nevertheless, for the hostage crisis to last for virtually 12 hours let alone for it to end in a carnage was unexpected yet very wrathfully disappointing.

Now, different groups point out who's at fault. The media was partly censured for not having a set of rules in covering hostage crisis as the hostage-taker turned out to be closely monitoring the live broadcast news on the bus's TV. Interestingly, I heard someone opined that TV networks should have had a delayed broadcast of the news then. Not a moot point, I guess.

About three to four years ago, if I may digress, our class conducted a lecture on hostage crisis management as a final requirement in one of our major subjects. It was basically for us to know what role media has in such situations. We invited a police officer, a Manila's finest, to give the talk. His introduction was that of a hypothetical question: Two brothers are arguing over who has the right to have the one and only banana placed by their mother on the table. If you were the mother, what would you do? If I remember it right, our guest speaker was the very same person who tagged himself as the self-imposed negotiator during the Quirino Grandstand hostage-taking incident. Right, it was Yebra. I also remember him explaining this 'stronghold' stuff, which is the cordoned off area where the hostage-taking actually takes place. I do hope my memory serves me right on this: the media is not allowed inside that 'stronghold.' Not ever.

The PNP, on the other hand, was atop the list of who's-to-blame for being inept on crisis management, therefore adding weight to the force's burdens nowadays. Pardon me for including this here, but the same 'someone' (opinionated eh?) also remarked that the local police instead are highly skilled with containing strikes and the like, being exposed to such great a deal of political and social affairs during the preceding administrations. Whereas, likewise during those times, they were not appropriately trained to handle hostage crisis. On this let me add that we ARE NOT actually new to these things, having witnessed them on the news — or, for some to 'have been at the right moment at the right time,' even personally — in the past. Now one wonders why we still have not learned and improved.

Deemed as a sign of contempt for what happened, the Hong Kong government issued an advisory urging its people to refrain from all travel to the Philippines. Consequently, flight bookings to Manila from mainland China and Hong Kong were down, as cited by some newspaper reports. Needless to say, the tourism-related firms, even in just a short span of time, swayed to losses. It's very saddening, however, that some Hong Kongers took it out on our common people, the Filipino domestic helpers working in Hong Kong in particular (rational thinking is not in abundant supply lately, don't you think?). On a personal note, I do find it very rude that some folks had even bad-mouthed the President's seemingly always-smiling face. Even that?!

Nobody wanted such tragedy to happen. These unfortunate events could happen to anybody, anywhere, anytime. It's just that one happened in our place, to us. Let's just pray for the repose of the fatalities' souls and for everything to be 'OK'. Then let's move on... to making another news, but this time, a literally good one.

BUT THERE ARE DREAMS THAT CANNOT BE...

"Let go of the things you cannot change," I'd read somewhere, somewhat an advice I painfully took — I let him go, or rather, the feeling. I admit I still miss him sometimes and still feel this ancient pain I only feel when I think of him, but always beat back the thought (I call it just a 'thought' now). I don't want to expect he feels the same way for me; all the same, my pent-up feelings for him allowed my creative juices flowing, and for that I was grateful. I decided to publish here on my blog one of the versed compositions I have written out of this suppressed love for him, treating it as a sign that I am finally letting myself to be heart-free.

(Heads-up! The following is a lackluster display of poetic abilities. Spare me the critical evaluation please!)

MY LOVE SONG
Love songs seemed to pass me by;
They never sang to me, I wonder why.
Could hardly feel their meanings
since every line just passed my hearing.

As I trailed each love songs' parade,
keeping with the tune, following the beat.
Pretended to hear more, when I barely listened.
Not knowing one day this piece would be played—

You are my love song, humming so softly.
You are my love song, my heart sings with glee.

Now every love song says hello,
always sings for me wherever I go.
With every line strumming my heart
And this voice in my ears keeps on crooning—

You are my love song, a beautiful sound.
You are my love song, my favorite melody.

As you lull me to sleep each night,
Chorus of good morning to a day of zest;
I play you back a thousand times
and keep up with you like an LSS—

You are my love song, forever playing.
You are my love song, the music in me.

My life's singsong, that's what you are;
Humming to myself than sing it out loud.
Been praying one day you'd hear it, too.
Before my heart hears a song that's not you...

CHARGE TO EXPERIENCE

I was a victim of a pickpocket just two nights ago. My 'five-month-old' cellphone, a birthday gift from my father, was robbed from the left pocket of my pants during the time when I was so engrossed with the racing game I was playing in an arcade whose name I won't mention.

I often heard stories about it before, but for the longest time brushed off the possibility that such felonious act would actually happen to me. I had always maintained an alert stance every time I went to public places. But as the cliche goes, "There's always a first time in everything."

I've been actually ruing about what happened since that day, and the first time I was going to sleep without my dear cellphone by my side was really a mental torture. I could hardly take a shut-eye that night and when I did, I would jump out of bed and think, with a heavy heart, of my stolen mobile phone and of what happened prior to the robbery incident. I keep blaming myself, thinking why I let that lapse in judgment (as I call it for the lack of a 'better' term) occur and make me an easy prey to sneak thieves. I blame myself for my decisions that led to my misfortune that particular night. A friend, though, in a sincere attempt to quell my exaggerated sorrow, even let me compare his similar experience to mine. And I can say, despite the fact that both of us had been victims no matter what, I was objectively speaking the 'more alert' one, haha.

Kidding aside, there are things to learn from this first-time experience:
* Enjoy your time while at public places but never be too at ease with your surroundings. Constant vigilance! (to borrow it from Harry Potter series' Alastor Moody).
Had I handed over my cellphone to my sister who was just right behind me before playing and didn't feel content that something valuable was 'obvious' in my pocket that time, the guy would have no chance to perpetrate the misdemeanor against me (and hopefully against no one, though that was 'hoping against hope').

* It pays to be obnoxious sometimes. That is when strangers bump into you or may it be any ilk of physical connection, whether intentionally or not, react, as if you're puzzled, startled, annoyed, etc. by the unexpected gesture.
I was in fact pestered when the guy started pushing the machine's token slot on my right side and even saw from my right peripheral view that his body bag was already atop my right leg. I actually thought his 'actions' were rude, but preoccupied as I was that very moment, I decided to think that his token must be stuck and he did not deliberately put his bag on top of my right leg. I should have listened at once to the instinctive voice in my head telling me, "Look at him! Look at him!" before it petered out.

* One should not place valuable things together in one place.
To make this story a tad more disappointing on my part, let me tell you that along with my stolen cellphone was my favorite limited-edition pouch (a need to emphasize that eh?), my 'longest-serving' spare SIM card, and P250. In fact my brother teased me for being 'so generous' that I also 'gave' the 'guy' money to buy prepaid load.

* Of course, it's not that it was unworthy of importance, but at any rate be thankful that you were not hurt or physically threatened because any material thing would never equate to your life in the slightest.
Haha...there's nothing more I can add to that, besides to keep a promise to myself that never will I allow such to happen to me again. How I wish I could really keep that one!

EKING OUT A P300

(Warning: A flood of parenthetical remarks ahead.)

Who says a worthwhile family bonding experience deemed only for the so-called well-heeled cannot be had with a bare P300 budget? Not buying the idea? Well, the family's weekend activity at the Nido Fortified Science Discovery Center in SM Mall of Asia is the ultimate proof.

With three free tickets given by a kind friend, I set out that I bring along my mom and my sister (my brother is always 'at work' on a Friday, or may it be on any day, which made him excluded from this plan; until recently, he even never had the slightest idea that we left 'to have some bonding' that day) with me, a tad fretting over the financial aspect, in view of the fact that the payday was still a few days away. Friday came and off to SM MOA we went, trusting in our pockets' (I mean my mother's; she was basically our 'financier' for this endeavor) powers to make us survive (gastronomically as well) without technically having to walk home from Pasay to Marikina.

We were in MOA at 5:30 p.m.; with P107 just for the transportation expenses. We opted to buy snacks and beverages from the supermarket instead of dining in at some fastfood chain. From this alone we already spent, if my memory serves me right, P87. (Let me do some quick mathematical operations here. So far we had already shelled out P194. Subtracting that from P300, that leaves us P106!)

Ok, now let us deviate from the monetary (and headache-inducing mathematics) side of this story. We were at the Nido Fortified Science Discovery Center at 7 p.m. (my griping about our slack pace — exacerbated by the untoward incident in front of an apparel store — behooved us to reach the place 'earlier'). My sister was quite dismayed that we already missed the regular planetarium film Seven Wonders on show at 6 p.m., which features the Pyramids of Giza in Egypt. However, we still had 20 minutes or so before the next planetarium movie, so we set out to have a look at 'the fun world of discoveries' the scientific facility offers its visitors. (NFSDC has been touted to be the pioneer 'technology-based, highly interactive science learning theme park' in the country. It has nine walk-through galleries, namely: Life Clock, ImagePort, SMART Media City, Transportation Nation, Grossology, Spaceship Earth, Virtual Reef, City Science, and Robot Inc; the Digistar Planetarium and Lego Mindstorms Robotics Center are two more must-visit attractions.)

First off, there were these animated bugs on a color screen affixed to the floor that immediately hide in the leaves once you step on them (not quite sure about that though because up to this point, one still wonders if they really do). After deciding that we had enough of the crawling insects, we partook of the Shadow Room wherein, by the help of a projector, our shadows were able to join a fruit-bearing tree and a ferocious tiger (the tree somewhat marks off one's shadow and the tiger) on a big screen. What was fun about this thing was it's truly interactive that when you move, your shadow will also move; thus you can toss the round fruits with your hand's shadow, of course, for as long as the nearby tiger hasn't attacked you (or rather your shadow) yet.

We also took the opportunity to have a try on the flight simulators, which the three of us singularly disliked; I, in particular, consistently crashed the plane I was piloting (the belittling experience reminded me not to ever try to pilot a real plane in real life). We did drop by the Grossology section which was quite a bore (guess it was because we're a thought 'gross' of the topic; let's not talk about that anyway), save for this 'Let's Play Grossology' game I played with my sister (neither of us outsmarted the other though, for we both got the same number of correct answers; suppose we're not ignorant of this gross stuff anywise).

The second level of the center, for me, houses the most interesting exhibits. For one, the Robot Inc. gallery has Maestro (a robot, of course), which could play different classical pieces — including the 'Moonlight Sonata' which I chose for 'him' to play — on his colossal piano. There's also the Earthquake Experience Room (which gave me this weird yen to have a try on Phivolcs' earthquake simulator room) and the Virtual Reef, which, aside from the planetarium movie, I can say was the most enjoyable part of our whole NFSDC experience that day (thanks to Mr. T, the titan fish, which calls himself papalpok in Tagalog). At the end of this walk-through virtual reef is a large screen in which Mr. T appears in a jiffy, flashes out a ready smile and welcomes you to the gallery (well, I wasn't even sure of the last one because the moment we stepped in front of the screen and laid our eyes on him, he started on blabbing away with blah blah blah; so let's just suppose it's a welcome/introductory speech). I recall having asked him the very basic 'What's your name?' and then followed by 'What kind of fish are you?' (I bet he already said those in his introduction). I was really at loss for words after uttering those two questions (the situation was very awkward, you know. Me, talking to a fish?!), so I inadvertently asked 'Do you speak Tagalog?', to which he replied 'Aba, oo naman, nagta-Tagalog ako!' Surprise as I was that moment, I laughed mockingly at myself for repeatedly telling my mom and my sister early on that Mr. T was probably programmed to answer based on the keywords from the queries asked to him. He did ask for my name to, I guess, stir up an informal conversation. After a few exchange of words, I then pulled my mom to the front to replace me. It was then I realized how boring his job is. Mr. T, all alone, mindfully waits for at least a guest who has interest in talking to him and patiently responding to questions even though the answers are quite obvious (just like in our case). Mr. T needs a companion (perhaps Nemo will do ^_^).

After the encounter with Mr. T, we were requested by the staff to proceed to the Digistar Planetarium minutes before the Dark Star Adventure film started. The theater-like dome made me feel like we were about to experience something so scientific (besides the fact that it was my, and most probably my mother and my sister's, first time to be in such a place). The short movie, which lasts for around 40 minutes, tells about the story of Subrah, his father and their robot companion named Swipes, as they deal with cosmic explosions, black hole, supernova and what have you to make their way to their home planet millions of light-years away. Harsh as it may seem, but I honestly had this 'when-is-this-gonna-end?!' feeling a few minutes after the presentation began. I was lost the moment they started rambling about these space thingamabobs; all the same, I was entertained by the visual aspect of the experience.

Although we got wet by the downpour, hassled by the traffic on our way home, tired, and starved, we were happy and proud that we were able to eke out the remaining P106 — P21 for the shuttle en route to the EDSA MRT station, P66 for the commuter trains and P20 for the tricycle. (Ok, here's math again just for the last time, that sums to P107. P107?!!). Well, turned out my mom got a spare P200 bill all this time.

CONFESSIONS OF A SELF-DISENFRANCHISED

Tomorrow, May 10, 2010, is Election Day; but here I am, feeling such a "loser."

Wanting to scale down my nonchalance over the country's political sphere, I had sunk my teeth into election brouhaha these past weeks (that I so much believed in).

For one, I made myself aware of considerable lowdowns on the nine presidential aspirants and the eight "vice-presidentiables." Thanks to the country's top broadcasting networks and several newspapers' efforts to provide each candidate's profiles for voters to get to know them better, well that is besides the candidates' efforts per se.

I liked the concepts of Channel 2's citizen journalism campaign "Boto Mo, i-Patrol Mo: Ako ang Simula" and its counterpart in GMA-7 "YouScoop" and the "May Magagawa Tayo." Both aimed to instill a social responsibility in Filipinos to push for clean elections. These campaigns, in particular, actually got me thinking that this year's Election Day is "quite" a big deal, let alone that it's going to be the first automated one in a large scale. Everyone has been apprehensive, and I think that's normal, considering that this event will be "a crossing over our Rubicon" (to borrow it from a columnist's wording). There are just some who have overimaginative preconceived notions, but we can't blame them either.

I did mull who the "best" candidates to vote for were and if a chance to personally endorse them to people I know was there, I had gladly grabbed it. I likewise followed at least some election-related stories in newspapers, the pre-election surveys in particular (well, I was actually "compelled" to, given that my job is to "read" news stories everyday).

Everything’s been set. I have this "small" problem though: I did not register to vote.

Fine, I am a loser. I accept the degrading label (which was actually the outright reaction of a friend when I told her I was not a registered voter). I am hurt, too, when I hear someone say that nonvoters don't have the right to complain about the corrupt government officials, ineffective public infrastructures, deficient health care services, and whatnot. I'd defend myself by insisting that I'm a taxpayer, which actually is effective in making me feel better about myself at times.

Despite of this particular shortcoming on my part, I pray for a peaceful Election Day tomorrow. I also salute every group and individual involved in this life-changing exercise. And I do pray that my bets would make it. Oops! Ok, I pray that the deserving ones slugging it out either for national or local positions would make it. Though I know I won't literally be a part of this big occasion tomorrow, I wish a lot of Filipinos would be.

THE HUNT FOR A POEM (part 2)

(Due to unfavorable turnout of events — which I should have expected in the first place, but as to be "expected from me" I haven't — let's just suppose the following situation is the constant precursor to each copy-a-poem task I had done.)

Griping about the delay in the train's arrival, I stepped inside the LRT-2 train, changed my mood in a jiffy, and suppressed a smile. Lo and behold: a train with the poem display!



TULAAN
(blogger's note: the following are just excerpts from select Tulaan sa Tren 2 poems. I came upon a site of one of the poems' writers and was able to download Off the Beaten Track's [the poems' compilation] e-book version from there. You see, with that file in hand, it is like having a copy of all the Tulaan 2 poems. Kudos galore to "Mr. Matangmanok.")

Pasintabi by
Tabi tabi po nuno sa punso
akin nang suno ang inyong puno.
Hintay na ako ng magtrotrosong
may libong piso kada putol ko
makakakain na rin
ang supling na masasakitin
kakakaingin
kahit may mina o plantasyon
pa di na uubra ang ibang obra.
maestra pala ang bagyong thelma
nagturo siya ng alaala.
Lalo nang kunin niya
ang aking anak na anim
sa bahang taksil.
Nabuhay akong nagkwekwento
ng natukyan ko sa inyong multo!
Tabi tabi po nuno sa punso
akin nang suno ang inyong puno.

Tayo ang mga anak na puno ng hinanakit,
na tinawid ang bukid at baha,
upang umabot sa isang pagsasaboy
lamang ng buhangin sa mata ng isa't isa.
Samantalang isa-isa tayong mapupuwing
o tuluyang nabubulag,
aamin tayong hindi naten naisiksik
ang pare-pares ng lahat-lahat. — from Tayo by Ivy Rosales

Kung ako ay sapatos,
ihahatid kita kahit kailan
at saan ka man magpunta
hanggang tayo ay tumanda
na nangangarap na bata lagi
ang ating paa. — from Alamat by Vim Nadera

Kay sarap magbasa by Rene G. Villanueva
Kay sarap magbasa!
Kay sarap maglakbay sa kung saan-saan;
may kontinenteng malayo't malapit,
mga unibersong mahikal, marikit!
Kahit nakaupo o nakahiga lang,
alinmang lupalop aking napapasyalan;
anumang panahon ang nais kong puntahan,
nararating agad sa pagbabasa lamang!

BERSO SA METRO
Pericoloso by Gonzalo Rojas
Sa isang sulyap,
kay tulin ng lansangan
ang mga salamin
ng mga sasakya'y
pinararami ng araw
kayrumi ng hangin
at ito na ba ang mundo?

Confesion by Adelina Gurrea Monasterio
Panginoon, pagal na ang puso ko sa pangangarap
taglay itong mithiin sa aking paglalakad
malayo na ang narating
at ang alikabok nitong dinaanan
ay naging balakid sa landas na tinahak.


by San Juan de la Cruz
Nanatili ako at nagpaubaya,
isinandig ang mukha sa aking Minamahal
lahat ay tumigil at nagpaubaya ako
ibinaon sa limot lahat ng aking takot
sa gitna ng mga asusena.

Ciudad by Angel Gonzalez
At bigla kang nawala.
Paalam, pag-ibig, paalam.
Nakaalis ka na.
Walang iniwang bakas.
Umiikot ang siyudad.
Parang gilingan na dinudurog ang lahat.

by Pablo Neruda
Pagtawanan mo ang gabi, ang araw, ang buwan;
pagtawanan mo ang mga libu-libong landas na isla.
Pagtawanan mo ang torpeng lalaking ito na nagmamahal sa iyo,
nguni't kapag bubuksan ko at isasara ang aking mga mata,
kapag ako ay umalis,
kapag ako ay muling bumalik,
ipagkait mo na sa akin ang tinapay,
ang hangin, ang liwanag at ang tagsibol,
huwag lamang ang iyong ngiti
dahil ito'y aking ikasasawi.

by Luis de Gongora
Basta't ako'y maginhawa
magtawa sila nang magtawa.
Bahala na ang iba sa gobyerno ng mundo
at kanyang mga hari,
habang mayroon ako araw-araw
ng mantekilya't malambot na tinapay,
at sa umaga sa taglamig limonada at agwardyente.
Magtawa sila nang magtawa.

by Ernesto Cardenal
Nang mawala ka sa akin, ikaw at ako'y nawalan;
ako dahil ikaw ang minahal ko nang lubusan
at ikaw dahil ako ang sa iyo'y lubusasng nagmahal;
Nguni't sa dalawa ay ikaw ang higit na nawalan;
dahil pwede kong mahalin ang iba
tulad nang pagmamahal ko sa iyo
nguni't ika'y di mamahalin
nang tulad nang kung paano kita minahal.

Eternidad Segunda by Angel Crespo
Inilublob ko sa agos ng tubig,
aking mga palad
pagkat mga isla ang nais kong makatulad.
Sa mga daliri'y umanod ang dagat
tulad ng hanging tumagos sa mga bitak.
Sa mga katagang aking binitawan
ang mga sirena'y nagsipaghabulan.
At nang itong lupa'y nais kong balikan
ang dalampasiga'y di na masilayan.

by Antonio Machado
Lahat ay dadaan at lahat ay maiiwan,
pero tayo ay dadaan,
dadaang gumagawa ng mga daanan,
daanan sa ibabaw ng karagatan.

TURNING AROUND IN LOVE

It never occurred to me that something I had always laughed at and belittled in the past would be the very thing that could spawn teardrops in my eyes today and be considered pivotal in my entire being.

I'm talking about those tragic but sometimes with happy ending love stories one usually stumbles upon love-themed Web sites. My college classmates way back then had this "addiction" to such literature that a seatmate even had them printed and compiled neatly, ready to be passed around if someone got interested in reading them.

He was one of them, a "boy" I have always considered my first-ever real male friend, someone who was usually "present" wherever I was, then corporally. (Now I'm curious who was following whom?)

To my recollection he had handwritten copies of one or two of those kind of stories that he once asked me to read and rate from 1 to 5, with 5 being the highest, as to how they appealed to me. I really didn't know what he was on about (still don't know until now) but I caved in, giggling thereafter. Dismayed by my score of "2", he demanded for an explanation and said that it was no laughing matter. The protagonists' fate was to be pitied, he said. I laughed harder and mockingly criticized the actions of the boy and the girl who were in love with each other for the longest time but suppressed their feelings for they were supposedly "best of friends."

At that time, I honestly found it a funny thing: boy meets girl, they turn into friends/best friends, realizes that s/he has special feelings for his/her friend, hides it in perpetuity until one dies, and eventually the one left finds out (more often than not through a diary) that the deceased had mutual feelings for him/her. Then regret sets in: "If only I confessed my love for him/her," "I should have known s/he loved me, too. Kaya pala...(That is why...)" "Oh! s/he loved me all along. Why didn't s/he tell me?" Sobs, sobs, sobs.

I regarded the whole setup pathetic. How could anyone hide such feelings from someone he's always with? If one happens to fall for a friend, tell it to him. That's an easy task, I guess, especially for the boy, considering that the first move is always expected from the males. As for the girl, likewise it won't be that hard. Better show it than be sorry. Or so I thought...

It IS NOT funny. And it IS NOT easy at all. My first love, the kind of love they claim "never dies," I found in him. Now, I'm caught between keeping our friendship and telling to the whole world that I love him. Now, I'm unhappily laughing at myself, wondering if, like in those tragic love stories, my pent-up feelings for my boy bestfriend will be revealed through my diary. T_T

THE HUNT FOR A POEM (part 1)

The walls of select LRT and MRT trains are of late abound with Spanish-Filipino poems of varied themes — ranging from travel, globalization, love, life's tragedies, etc. — at times juxtaposed with Filipino-English ones, the former a project of the Instituto Cervantes termed Berso sa Metro, and the latter of the National Book Development Board touted as the Tulaan sa Tren, both of which have tied up with the Light Rail Transit Authority.

I usually don't take a seat while aboard the train and rather stand by the door at the forefront, making my view of such displays restricted to only one or two. However, seeing at least one always brings about a sense of pride in me, realizing that the country's literature is so much blessed with gifted yet prolific poets. Likewise, I am invariably awed by the preeminence of the Spanish poems presented.

I have always marveled at such beautifully written poems that I check who penned them at once after reading them, save for this particular Tagalog poem I read at the weekend while I was on an LRT-1 train with my mother. I found it witty and a thought different from the usual style of other poems exhibited on the train.

The poem reads:
Ikaw ang dahilan kung bakit ako nandito/ Hindi ako mabubuhay kung hindi kita nakilala/ Kung ako'y mamamatay nang hindi ka nakilala/ Hindi ako mamamatay dahil hindi ako nabuhay.

Very amusing and it actually felt kind of weird that I have memorized it in an instant (though not 100% sure that I got it right this time), and every now and then it just pops up in my head and I start reciting it mentally. What bothers me though is that I was not able to see who wrote that four-line poem, let alone notice what its title was.

Reading such poems lifts up my mood; they give me something to look forward to as I take the commuter train five times a week en route to the office. They also pique my interest and my somewhat "seasonal" poetic abilities. It is for this reason that I wonder if I could find other poems on the walls of the LRT-2 trains with such effect on me. Amid this poem-hunting assignment, I might as well copy at least some of the poems' Filipino translations so as to make my train trip worthwhile.

I do find the "adventure" pretty exciting huh, considering that I will only be able to copy the poems en route to the office. Got to start tomorrow then?...

AN INTRO

This blog will most likely be one of the umpteen "web logs" — the term from which what we universally call "blog" nowadays is derived — I have had signed up for, but never quite had the chance to hit it big on the cyberspace. Ok, let me tone it down a bit: even had the chance to be of use, a personal diary, so to speak. Oh, I did have a sort-of-well-maintained one, way back during my FBT (stands for free browsing techniques) days on mobile Web. But regretfully, it was inactivated, thus giving me that "whoa!" moment (you see, I rarely have that). Thanks to the site's upgrade.

Ok, moving on, did I mention earlier the possible futility of this account? I, in fact, don't want that to happen. I said it to drive away such "possibility." Kind of a paradoxical approach; you self-contradict what you really mean. (An aside: If there's a person in this world whom I can refer to as a paradox-personified, it's going to be my mother. When she tells you "Go, have that broken when you return it to me," she actually means, "Make sure that when you hand it back to me it's still in good condition." Or when she doesn't want you to be hurt, particularly out of your own doing, she yells, "Ok, don't take your medicine. Just let me know if you're already too sick so that I just have to throw you out of my house." Very sweet. That's why I adore her, my Mama.)
***
Enough of the nonsense provisos. Since you asked (you did?!), my blog's title Wide White Wall — with WWW acronym, akin to the World Wide Web's — is actually inspired by the wide white wall across my desk in the office. When boredom strikes or when I just want to have someplace to look at to enable my mind to think clearly (or, maybe, to appear intellectual as I actually start to get into trance), the wide white wall comes as an edge. It stirs my imagination, giving me this "blank space" to fill in with my musings. From scratch the thought-smeared white then becomes my imaginary personal freedom wall, an opportune conduit of ideas bulling their way out. This is exactly how I envision this blog to be: an outlet, though digital, of my blabs and raves, of what I feel and think about things, of those I never had the chance to express, well verbally in a sense.

So there it goes... (by the way, one is grateful for having squandered an ample space for the introductory part...^_^)