Archive for November, 2006

How would it be nice to take just a year out of your
lifetime to do or to live out a life you are not accustomed to? I am beginning to contemplate about this idea for
quite sometime and it struck a chord if
there is any rationality on it. These days, I am feeling like a tight and
overstretched rope, mechanically doing things day in and day out. As I am trying to figure it out if there is any sense about my existence and
how would it correlate to what they call a passion for life. 

I told a friend, that sometimes I wonder, how my life would
have been if I am to lead another set of pattern in my life’s circumstance? What if the direction that I have taken doesn’t lead to where I am right
now? Will it be something that is
fruitful? Will it be something of a wreck? Will it be something for a thrill?
Will it be something that I will have to wallow in tears? Will it be something
that is worth taking the risk?

Whatever. I have no
qualms for trying it out, because the more I calculate the risk of failing, is
the more I am taken aback. As to this is
not to mislead you from thinking if
indeed I feel somewhat depressed, down-trodden, directionless, worthless,
miserable or stressed out. Sometimes. But I could not say that I am in a
complete failure. And that is only my perception. 

My friend is right when he told me that I should be
thankful, that I have a shot to have a rather peaceful, and relatively smooth
ride existing. With a career and a job that pays well, with a set of
credentials that is something to be proud of and for one thing, that I am not
a liability to this society. What more could I ask for?  

He pointed out that maybe whenever I failed to meet some of
my life’s expectations or a programmed set of goals I have for the future, I tend to temporarily stop. And yet,
I would be isolated again and taking hard time thinking another set of actions
or plans to maneuver back again to the same path. It becomes an unending cycle
and a struggle of getting back. That is
why, according to him, that I tend to becoming too hard upon myself.  And it appears to him that I am rushing too
much to be fulfilled this early on of all aspirations that I am dreaming of.

He said, maybe its time to stop completely and let loose. And if I think, that I have to go on and seek
some diversion from these patterns of living, I should do it soon.

He observed, that he didn’t perceived that I am pondering
about this and he didn’t have any clue until it is I who will open it up to
him.  I told him, that I felt that
somehow this life’s path is not the one I am hoping for. ( I know, again I
should be thankful and stop saying this. But for the sake of honesty, let me
articulate). I  believe that the greatest mistake for a person,
is to do things they don’t want to do. Living a life all along, that they are so unsure of and drudgingly
keeping it because of other people’s
expectations and the obligation to help the family.

I always believe, that we should not be constricted to live
our life to the fullest, which is both fulfilling and exciting, and thus give
us sense for living. And this one year, I need to step my foot forward into a
territory that I had never dared to cross. Into something, that is life
changing and to something that will reveal the real me. That will eventually lead me into something
greater, bolder and braver.

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There is no greater feat for somebody than to live up his dreams into fruition.  No amount of money or recommendation can afford the personal fulfillment that comes along with it.

Jun Laurilla, a friendly neighbor who is a freelancer visual artist has taken his artistry to a newer level and fought hard for it.  In this crazy world wherein  artistic consumption is often synonimous with huge budget spending for public advertisement and hyped media, we are being fed up with so much commercialism. I have personally witnessed how this one fellow has stood up and keep on improving his craft no matter how others might perceive him as dispensible as another ordinary man in the neighborhood.

But like a noiseless, and a patient spider, he was able to prove that his ability as a person do not usually translate as to who might pocket a bigger amount of money or who might have won more accolade in the public eye.  His brand of character is the one that the world needs now. 

In search of a truer definition of how a person can actually thrive in his chosen field of endeavor  gives credibility to the importance of being honest in expressing your passion in everything that you do.  If one choose to believe that this perception about who he is and what he is going to contribute to the civilization is directly proportional as to how clear you envision yourself to survive and have meaning.

When people nowadays are being confronted with worries about the improvement of self-image and self worth and the continuous accumulation of money, a sudden reflection that what matters is how you choose to live your dream and be able to flourish from it.  It is also how in the process that you develop this God-given talent and abilities to benefit your well-being.  And no amount of branding and categorizing would ever put your  value as a human being like a price tag or another temporal by-product  of  this rampant  mundane machinery.

I do not want to be tagged as another humanoid that grinds the mill for the sake of living it out.  And wait for the 15th and the 30th of the month just to secure my daily existence.  I needed to re-evaluate what drives me to live this life, and how am I going to pursue my long term goals as vigorous as I can before I find my self-esteem eclipses right before my very eyes.  I will still strive to discover  more and more about myself and find out what’s more in the offing of life.  As Jun, who bravely weathers stereotyping and emerged as originally as he is. Indomitable spirited fellow fighting for his art.

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Star Wars:

> Yoda: No, try not. Or do not. there is no try.

> Yoda: You must unlearn what you have learned.

> Yoda: A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense. Never for attack.

> Yoda: You will know (the good from the bad) when you are calm, at peace, passive.

> Yoda: That is why you fail. (In response to Luke saying, "I don’t believe it")

Legends of the Fall:

> One Stab: Some people hear their own voices with great clearness and they live by what they hear. Such people become crazy or they become legends.

> One Stab: I thought Tristan would never live to be an old man. I was wrong about that. I was wrong about many things. It was those who loved him the most that died young. He was a rock they broke themselves against however much he tried to protect them.

Memoirs of a Geisha:

> Pumpkin: A long time ago, you took something from me, the only thing I ever truly wanted. Well… now you know how it feels.

> Mameha: We do not become geisha to pursue our destines. we become geisha because we have no other choice.

Men of Honor:

> Tagline: History is made by those who break the rules.

The Departed:

> Fitzy: She didn’t notice us, she must be a cop. Delahunt: yeah, she must be the fucking Police Commissioner.


> Eva Peron: And as for fortune, and as for fame, I never invited them in…though it seemed to the world they were all I desired.

> Eva Peron: I’m not that ill. Bad moments come, but they go. Some days are fine, some a little bit harder. But that doesn’t mean we should give up our dream. Have you ever seen me defeated? Don’t forget what I’ve been through and yet, I’m still standing.

> Che: The greatest social climber since Cinderella.

Vanity Fair:

> Becky Sharp: Revenge may be wicked. But it’s perfectly natural.

> Miss Matilda Crawley: How do I look? Beck Sharp: A good deal stronger. They will be disappointed.

What Dreams May Come:

> Chris Nielsen: A whole human life is just a hearbeat in heaven. Then we all be together forever.

Million Dollar Baby:

> Mo cuishle means My Darling. My blood.

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Today is my self imposed day-off wherein I had a field trip to some of Manila’s top recruitment agencies. Responding to the classified ads, I troop to the every nook and corners finding that elusive opportunity which I suspect is hidden so long from my sight.  I have hoped to see some better employment  options this time which  is way above different from my present job.  I am filled with high expectations of this try-out and dared myself to be a little patient and sober.

And so it happens, a waiting game in this waiting room of the world. Tens of likely applicants lined up and waited to be listed.  Anxious to fill in the slots to have a chance to be interviewed.  Blank stares and far-fetched gaze outside is a common thing.  And I guess, it’s all about vague questions. And some sort of disillusionment.

Light chatter punctuates the eerie silence. But how brave for someone to introduce himself without telling his name, just a little joke to break the ice, isn’t? And from all walks of life, converged in this little God-forsaken place, where nervousness and anticipation mixed in a cauldron of pessimistic emotions.

I will never forget the way pleasantries are exchanged, as if hostility plays softly along the lines.  And the litany of reasons and the rebellious incantations of misery blurts out once in a while. While I sat among them, listening and just nodding in agreement.

I will never forget how the hours seems a lifetime watching each other’s expression.  If I could only translate the many blank faces into stories of desperation, I would count them as many. And here the sad circumstances of "dog eats dog" survival is evident, where one’s strength is pitted against another’s weakness. And who’s who will just be the day’s norm.

It’s a pity to find the finest of people leaving this country, given up their hope and has accepted the bleak conditions  that talent and honesty  does not reciprocate  survival.  I beg to disagree to a fellow saying that the profession should not be used as a means to earn a living, but instead a way to harness the passion of doing for the love of the profession.

But money is a matter too, that you need to throw on the table.  As real as it gets. We all ought to survive where having money is necessary for you to live. And if waiting in this waiting room, painfully calculate the risks, or if it’s worth a try. Then, let it be.

I will not wait for another day for another rotten wood appears along to dampen my spirit. I will not wait until my self-esteem decays and found that the time has been used up and I can’t take it back with me to undo the mistakes I have committed in my lifetime.  I will not wait in this waiting room, just to be another casualty and resign all my strength to this mediocrity. I will brave it through like many of us here in this waiting room, trying to see what’s on the other side. And we’re hoping to find that greener pasture abound in another place, in another time.

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Newspaper reading is a habit that I never had given up since I was young.  I would recall my father, would let us read a news article and ask us how we understood what we have read.  My younger brother and sister would often cry, if they cannot utter their explanation in English while I, as the eldest in the brood would try to pick and match English words along with my mental reasoning in Tagalog.

I would always remember how my father would always bring along newspaper after work so that he can continue reading at home.  And I remember how he clipped Supreme Court articles from Inquirer and compiled them in an envelope.  Maybe because he always wanted to be a lawyer before but because of poverty he was not able to pursue it, and instead he joined the army to become a soldier.

I would always remember the first time I have written a long letter in English, when my father edited the grammar and the spelling in red ink. Oh, I was so ashamed to find that my efforts then, are not good enough for him. But the many instances of correcting my English composition never stops with my father, even up to the time I was about to join a school organ in high school. 

I have a set of poems that I secretly hid underneath the center table, that he found by chance.  By the time, I was about to pull it out and insert my new poem, I was filled with rage to find out that he checked them again and edited my poems in red ink.

I contested to him that poetry is not totally structured like a normal prose and a poet has this poetic license to creatively fashion out the words in imagery. And I also told him, that my writings are for my own personal consumption and he is not supposed to meddle with it. That was the time when my father stops correcting me in the aspects of my writing in English. That was the time, that I have thought that I can be so independent within my own judgement. 

But now, as I was reading a newspaper, the English dictionary is always beside me. Why? My vocabulary had suffered so much and the way I compose my articulations in English are way behind to improving. It’s dismally predictable.  Whenever I am contemplating, I have realized that my attitude is somewhat like that of the child before and had never grown up on life. The point that I have stop learning new things and accepting mistakes had crippled me to grow more.

As I am writing this, I am teary eyed to know, that the world has left me behind among the shadows.  And this fear of being rejected and corrected by people has pushed me deeper to this abyss of self-pity.

I am one of those who had refused to learn.  That is why, only a handful of people is ever willing to teach a person like me who still got so much to learn on life.  Learning does not necessarily come from people who had this so academically  inclined nature but true learning comes from people who are willing to share and expect nothing in return.  And I was hoping, that they will not see me as a person filled with pride but a person who strive to be teached and trained more and more.

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A mirror shatters,
it fell into my hands
cuts and blood drops
races as fast
with my self-esteem.

Blame the alter-ego
Ignore the unadulterated
whispered by the simple man.

The bomb explodes
until it blows
fortresses and castles
and the floodgates open
until I am drowned
by this little gremlins.

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“Love entered in my heart one day,

A sad, unwelcome guest;

But when he begged that he might stay,

I let him wait and rest.”

My interest in poetry has been stirred ever since I have possessed an American Literature book way back in grade school. Uncle had let me the chance to read it all along but he never knew that I had sneaked it out from his library and it journeyed too far with me that I never had it given up. I came to know so many literary luminaries in the book. Most of them are dead poets and dead essayists. Though I really tried to understand English then as hard as I could but I realized that the book has taught me more than the lessons I get from the four corners of the classroom.Dickinson, a recluse, have rejected the conventions of the society for her to find immortality though her verses. She never let the world engulf her though she is left unknown by time. But her verses have found its life and had only been published many years after her death. She never intended to use the verses as a means of attaining fame and greater fortune but she had used them as her voice to counter injustices against women. 

There are two women in my life that excite me every time I commune with them. Emily Dickinson and Sara Teasdale. Two great woman poets whom I had spent hours and hours of understanding their soul’s magnanimity. Two great woman poets whom I will not hide my intensity of affection and adoration. Their life, love and gift of words will always be a pleasure to read upon, knowing that they had lived many centuries away apart  from today.

Teasdale, an unhappy woman, have not been limited by death arising from her eventual suicide. Brought up in a Victorian way of life, she had vigorously fought against the cold contentions of unhappy married life. In her verses, you can find the mark of a true passionate woman who strive to indulge in life’s great experiences and circumstances. 

Their life is an example how an art can be a dilemma to an artist. When we seek the truthfulness in things around us as potential literary subjects, theirs have been a courageous attempt on how poet should visualize and verbalize art in all its vivid honesty. Theirs is a freedom that bravely explored and defied power and intimidation by people who have no right to interfere in their creative processes. Theirs is the heart and soul that understands the faintest, seeks the vaguest and speaks the purest emotions to words. And in turn those words became a mirror that reflects the human from outside to within. 

Words that became a kaleidoscope that dissects each sections of the society and renders varied interpretations on this two woman’s life. Words that will always be alive and transcends even the surreal dimensions of their loss and death.

 “Sweet hours have perished

This is a mighty room;

Within its precincts hopes have played,-

Now shadows in the tomb.”

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