A non-believer lies dying in bed.
"You are a very brilliant man. You don't accept things as truths without absolute proof. Thus, you don't believe in God. What happens when you die and at the after-life you discover there indeed is a Supreme Being?"
"If your God is half as good as what you say he is, he will forgive me for not believing and will embrace me lovingly and take me among his flock."
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
You Don't Have To Wait A Lifetime*
*My English version of Ted Ito's "Maghintay Ka Lamang"
IF TODAY YOU LOSE
FOR TIME RUNS OUT,
THE WORLD WON’T STOP FOR YOU.
YOU FEEL ALONE
IN AN EMPTY ROOM
THAT COULD HAVE BEEN YOUR HOME.
NO, DON'T LET THOSE
TO HOLD YOU BACK
NEXT DAY, ALL THESE WILL PASS.
WHEN TOMORROW COMES
AND YOUR DAY BEGINS
YOU WON’T BE SAD AGAIN.
HOPELESSNESS IS NOT THE END
FOR YOU TO BOW YOUR HEAD.
HOLD YOUR HEAD UP HIGH
WHEN YOU ARE PUSHED BACK
BE STRONG AND FIGHT YOUR LAST.
ALL YOU NEED TO HOLD
TO WIN YOUR FIGHT
LIES QUIETLY IN YOUR HAND.
DAYBREAK SOON WILL COME
SO WILL MORNING SHINE
COME TO KISS THE NEW DAY’S SUN.
WHEN TOMORROW COMES
YOU WILL SEE THE TRUTH
THAT THE WORLD IS NOT ALL PAIN,
THAT ALL YOUR DREAMS WILL SOON COME TRUE;
YOU DON'T HAVE TO WAIT A LIFETIME.
IF TODAY YOU LOSE
FOR TIME RUNS OUT,
THE WORLD WON’T STOP FOR YOU.
YOU FEEL ALONE
IN AN EMPTY ROOM
THAT COULD HAVE BEEN YOUR HOME.
NO, DON'T LET THOSE
TO HOLD YOU BACK
NEXT DAY, ALL THESE WILL PASS.
WHEN TOMORROW COMES
AND YOUR DAY BEGINS
YOU WON’T BE SAD AGAIN.
HOPELESSNESS IS NOT THE END
FOR YOU TO BOW YOUR HEAD.
HOLD YOUR HEAD UP HIGH
WHEN YOU ARE PUSHED BACK
BE STRONG AND FIGHT YOUR LAST.
ALL YOU NEED TO HOLD
TO WIN YOUR FIGHT
LIES QUIETLY IN YOUR HAND.
DAYBREAK SOON WILL COME
SO WILL MORNING SHINE
COME TO KISS THE NEW DAY’S SUN.
WHEN TOMORROW COMES
YOU WILL SEE THE TRUTH
THAT THE WORLD IS NOT ALL PAIN,
THAT ALL YOUR DREAMS WILL SOON COME TRUE;
YOU DON'T HAVE TO WAIT A LIFETIME.
Noli Me Tangere - The 4th Reading
This year, the Filipino nation celebrates the 150th birth anniversary of Jose Rizal, "The First Filipino" as described by Leon Ma. Guerrero.
Born om June 19, 1861, Rizal made himself immortal writing two of the best novels this brown nation has ever produced - Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo.
The first time I read Noli was in High School, second was in College, third was two years ago and fourth, a week ago.
The first and second occasions left no impact with much thanks to my former teachers; the third was an awakening; the last time, a sense of wonder. Had Rizal not died in 1896 and lived till he was 40 when life as they say begins, he could have been a Nobel nominee.
However, had he been nominated, surely, the Spanish government would have done to Rizal what the Portuguese government had done to Jose Saramago, the 1998 Nobel Prize for Literature Winner. Portugal's conservative government would not allow Saramago's work to compete for the European Literary Prize, arguing that it offended the Catholic community. (José Saramago: Autobiography. 1998. Nobelprize.org. Retrieved 2011-02-04)
The above tells us that the world hasn't really changed. The Jose's of the world still fight using their pens. Some quarters still use God to advance personal interests masquerading as humanity's salvation.
The Story of Elias will put to shame the current teleseryes and telenovelas, be it locally made or Korean made. Ibarra, as a tragic hero can be placed side by side Oedipus and Medea.
While it is true that Noli is way too didactic and that both Ibarra and Elias are used shamelessly as mouthpieces of Rizal, one can't disregard the fact that a piece of literature gets conceived precisely for that.
That is Noli.
As of last night, I have read the first 14 chapters of El Filibusterismo.
Born om June 19, 1861, Rizal made himself immortal writing two of the best novels this brown nation has ever produced - Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo.
The first time I read Noli was in High School, second was in College, third was two years ago and fourth, a week ago.
The first and second occasions left no impact with much thanks to my former teachers; the third was an awakening; the last time, a sense of wonder. Had Rizal not died in 1896 and lived till he was 40 when life as they say begins, he could have been a Nobel nominee.
However, had he been nominated, surely, the Spanish government would have done to Rizal what the Portuguese government had done to Jose Saramago, the 1998 Nobel Prize for Literature Winner. Portugal's conservative government would not allow Saramago's work to compete for the European Literary Prize, arguing that it offended the Catholic community. (José Saramago: Autobiography. 1998. Nobelprize.org. Retrieved 2011-02-04)
The above tells us that the world hasn't really changed. The Jose's of the world still fight using their pens. Some quarters still use God to advance personal interests masquerading as humanity's salvation.
The Story of Elias will put to shame the current teleseryes and telenovelas, be it locally made or Korean made. Ibarra, as a tragic hero can be placed side by side Oedipus and Medea.
While it is true that Noli is way too didactic and that both Ibarra and Elias are used shamelessly as mouthpieces of Rizal, one can't disregard the fact that a piece of literature gets conceived precisely for that.
That is Noli.
As of last night, I have read the first 14 chapters of El Filibusterismo.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Spare The Rod; Walk Your Talk
My friend told me that the best way to get kids to behave is to have limitless patience. I doubted it then. My siblings and I were raised with constant fear of being pinched, smacked, slapped, not given dinner if we misbehave. And the times were not few when we misbehaved. We were disobedient and lazy and selfish and impolite despite the punishments. Still we've grown to become responsible, law-abiding, caring individuals, I'd like to think. I wonder now if the rod was spared, would we still be the kind of people that we are today.
My four-year old nephew is the worst kid I've ever known. He was a bully at three. He is disobedient, lazy, selfish, impolite, a loudmouth, and a smartass. The two-year old one, unfortunately, is a runner-up.
But they are so cute and so young and so innocent, how could old people expect them to behave and follow the constitution?
The best way still is to teach by example. If we say, "Don't do this," we should show them first that we "don't do this." If we say, "Be this," we should first "be this."
Such a tough job to be an adult!
My four-year old nephew is the worst kid I've ever known. He was a bully at three. He is disobedient, lazy, selfish, impolite, a loudmouth, and a smartass. The two-year old one, unfortunately, is a runner-up.
But they are so cute and so young and so innocent, how could old people expect them to behave and follow the constitution?
The best way still is to teach by example. If we say, "Don't do this," we should show them first that we "don't do this." If we say, "Be this," we should first "be this."
Such a tough job to be an adult!
No Leftists on Rizal Day
(Better late than never.)
Not that I miss their street theatrics. On the contrary, I'm glad they left that day alone.
Like the late leftist historian Renato Constantino and the "anti-elite" writer F. Sionil Jose, the leftists aren't exactly Rizal fans.
I understand that people have to have a stand. But good people can't be marble tough and not change their minds or habits or beliefs when the right catalyst comes.
Rizal stays my number one human being, dead or alive.
Not that I miss their street theatrics. On the contrary, I'm glad they left that day alone.
Like the late leftist historian Renato Constantino and the "anti-elite" writer F. Sionil Jose, the leftists aren't exactly Rizal fans.
I understand that people have to have a stand. But good people can't be marble tough and not change their minds or habits or beliefs when the right catalyst comes.
Rizal stays my number one human being, dead or alive.
Defenders of Willie Revillame
Yesterday, January 4, 2011, Philippine Daily Inquirer feautured a letter to the editor written by a person named JM Torcullas defending Willie Revillame against the attacks of De Quiros in the latter's "Hangover" article in his column There's The Rub last December.
I couldn't help sending Mr. Torcullas an e-mail the very minute I put down the newspaper.
Here's what I e-mailed him:
Dear Mr. Torcullas,
People can have varied reactions towards the same stimulus. While you call De Quiros a "plague" ( a term you "borrowed" from him), with the same "monstrosity staring back at him," and who should "be disregarded for his littleness of mind and spirit," I call De Quiros no other name but his. I don't want to be one classic example of a kettle calling the teapot black.
It may interest you to know what I have written after reading that same article that seemed to have repulsed you to the marrow of your bones. Still, I don't force you to read my opinion. Yours didn't force me. It made me.
-----
Conrado De Quiros' column today entitled "Hangover" juxtaposes the ways Willie Revillame and Ellen Degeneres help those in need. While Ellen was a class act, Willie was simply an act. Willie would dry up his beneficiaries to their last teardrop; Ellen "would crack a joke or draw attention to something else or go into commercial each time the beneficiary got tearful." Willie would bask in the limelight as his beneficiaries kiss his hand in gratefulness; the poor beneficiaries looking like stray dogs being given last night's leftovers. Ellen "has basic appreciation for people, she has basic respect for people." Wille has only basic and primal appreciation for money.
We do not need to look far to realize the level of doom this country has found itself. We need only switch on the TV set to local channels on primetime.
When we talk of TV, there are two things that hit my negative memory button; the two things that TV had done that I will never forget.
One. Wish Ko Lang.
I am not sure if it was still with Bernadette Sembrano or with its current host Vickie Morales. A boy in his teens was shown playing basketball with his pals. He had the moves. He could do rebounds. He was fairly tall. He was laughing and playing. What do you know, he had cancer. He had this huge mound of flesh somewhere in his body where the mass should not have been. His family wrote to Wish Ko Lang for help. With the usual drama and theatrics, Wish Ko Lang granted the wish and sponsored the boy's operations. Two or three episodes later, the boy died. My sister and I were stunned. And we cried. We still remember that episode to this day. To this day there is no disclaimer that says "Ask at your own risk." Just a long list of sponsors at end credits.
Two. PBA.
It was that terrible game when Terry Saldana fell on his knee that broke and dislocated in complete reverse. I still get the shivers remembering it. How could I not? Thoughtless, inconsiderate, callous PBA crew must have ran the replay in slow-mo over a dozen times a minute while the announcers commented on every screenshot minute detail. I was but a little girl enjoying the game with my father. The PBA that time was riding on a big wave of success. It was the time when most Filipino families had only one TV set. It was the time when fathers called the shots on what to watch on TV. And when it's PBA time, it was all PBA time. To hell with Inday Badiday and her rotten showbiz talkshow. Success made PBA careless. And heartless. What must have been happening to PBA now is called payback time.
Because video killed not just the radio star.
----
The above article was posted on this blog on December 27, 2010 (December 28, 2010 PH date).
For someone who had been affected terribly by an article that was not directly sent to him, it is a curiosity that Mr. Torcullas ignored my e-mail written, addressed and sent directly to him. I will shut up for any guess forming inside my pretty head. Pretty??
Today, another letter with similar content is featured at PDI. This time sent by someone named Nestor Carpio. I ask myself what has Willie got?
I couldn't help sending Mr. Torcullas an e-mail the very minute I put down the newspaper.
Here's what I e-mailed him:
Dear Mr. Torcullas,
People can have varied reactions towards the same stimulus. While you call De Quiros a "plague" ( a term you "borrowed" from him), with the same "monstrosity staring back at him," and who should "be disregarded for his littleness of mind and spirit," I call De Quiros no other name but his. I don't want to be one classic example of a kettle calling the teapot black.
It may interest you to know what I have written after reading that same article that seemed to have repulsed you to the marrow of your bones. Still, I don't force you to read my opinion. Yours didn't force me. It made me.
-----
Conrado De Quiros' column today entitled "Hangover" juxtaposes the ways Willie Revillame and Ellen Degeneres help those in need. While Ellen was a class act, Willie was simply an act. Willie would dry up his beneficiaries to their last teardrop; Ellen "would crack a joke or draw attention to something else or go into commercial each time the beneficiary got tearful." Willie would bask in the limelight as his beneficiaries kiss his hand in gratefulness; the poor beneficiaries looking like stray dogs being given last night's leftovers. Ellen "has basic appreciation for people, she has basic respect for people." Wille has only basic and primal appreciation for money.
We do not need to look far to realize the level of doom this country has found itself. We need only switch on the TV set to local channels on primetime.
When we talk of TV, there are two things that hit my negative memory button; the two things that TV had done that I will never forget.
One. Wish Ko Lang.
I am not sure if it was still with Bernadette Sembrano or with its current host Vickie Morales. A boy in his teens was shown playing basketball with his pals. He had the moves. He could do rebounds. He was fairly tall. He was laughing and playing. What do you know, he had cancer. He had this huge mound of flesh somewhere in his body where the mass should not have been. His family wrote to Wish Ko Lang for help. With the usual drama and theatrics, Wish Ko Lang granted the wish and sponsored the boy's operations. Two or three episodes later, the boy died. My sister and I were stunned. And we cried. We still remember that episode to this day. To this day there is no disclaimer that says "Ask at your own risk." Just a long list of sponsors at end credits.
Two. PBA.
It was that terrible game when Terry Saldana fell on his knee that broke and dislocated in complete reverse. I still get the shivers remembering it. How could I not? Thoughtless, inconsiderate, callous PBA crew must have ran the replay in slow-mo over a dozen times a minute while the announcers commented on every screenshot minute detail. I was but a little girl enjoying the game with my father. The PBA that time was riding on a big wave of success. It was the time when most Filipino families had only one TV set. It was the time when fathers called the shots on what to watch on TV. And when it's PBA time, it was all PBA time. To hell with Inday Badiday and her rotten showbiz talkshow. Success made PBA careless. And heartless. What must have been happening to PBA now is called payback time.
Because video killed not just the radio star.
----
The above article was posted on this blog on December 27, 2010 (December 28, 2010 PH date).
For someone who had been affected terribly by an article that was not directly sent to him, it is a curiosity that Mr. Torcullas ignored my e-mail written, addressed and sent directly to him. I will shut up for any guess forming inside my pretty head. Pretty??
Today, another letter with similar content is featured at PDI. This time sent by someone named Nestor Carpio. I ask myself what has Willie got?
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
"Blindness" Is About Seeing Clearly
I've just finished reading "Blindness" by Jose Saramago, the Nobel Prize for Literature awardee. It was through my most revered professor that I first heard about Saramago, almost ten years ago.
A few weeks ago, I was browsing through a shelf at Powerbooks-Greenbelt 3 that offered a line up of writers I thought I couldn't find in any Philippine bookstore. Amazing how Powerbooks does it. They must have very good literary consultants there. There were simply a dozen titles I wanted to take home. However, thinking about the holidays and what I recently stumbled upon - a book given by my former boss with this written quote from her:
"Book reading is a solitary and sedentary pursuit and those who do are cautioned that a book should be used as an integral part of a well-rounded life, including a daily regimen of rigorous physical exercise, rewarding personal relationships, and sensible low-fat diet. A book should not be used as a substitute or an excuse." (The Book of Guys by Garrison Keillor)
I decided not to buy any book for the holidays. A good book is a distraction.
But on December 27 at Powerbooks-Festival Mall while I was checking out possible gifts for some friends (I am usually the last to give gifts. I don't subscribe to pre-Christmas shopping), a book stood out, a book that shouldn't have been where it was, a book I remember from PB's G3 branch. I couldn't help saying, "Oh, it's you again." "You have to get me and read me," it was telling me. Fine. Without a moment's hesitation, I took it and bought it.
"Blindness" offered itself to me twice, this book ought to be so good. Ought to be better than most books I've read in recent months. And it had some great competitions. Recently I've read "Love in the Time of Cholera," I Know This Much Is True," "Things Fall Apart (a second reading; this time non-academic), and a host of other notable books.
And lo! It turns out to be better than GG Marquez's "Cholera"! And Achebe's "Things Fall Apart" is only slightly better. But of course, "Things Fall Apart" is from another dimension.
"Blindness" is a modern parable, too straightforward, too raw, too crude you'd think it came from the Old Testament. It doesn't say, "Excuse me, the next scenes are too gory, they're almost real. Please, skip the pages." It is about humanity stripped of television. It is about humanity in the highest level of undress. It is like "The Lord of the Flies" adult version.
Defamiliarization (ostranenie to my dear old professor), as the central technique for 20th century art, is telling us to see the old familiar in a different light. "Blindness" is telling us to see beyond seeing. It is the not having what we oh so take for granted that makes oh so wanting it that makes the common strangely almost perfect.
"One day, when we realize that we can no longer do anything good and useful we ought to have the courage simply to leave this world." Page 378. And you are bound to realize and know it is true that your life is not about you. That you live for others and others live for you and because of you. Fiction. I don't think so.
Today is the second day of the year and I have already read the one book I needed to read for 2011.
A few weeks ago, I was browsing through a shelf at Powerbooks-Greenbelt 3 that offered a line up of writers I thought I couldn't find in any Philippine bookstore. Amazing how Powerbooks does it. They must have very good literary consultants there. There were simply a dozen titles I wanted to take home. However, thinking about the holidays and what I recently stumbled upon - a book given by my former boss with this written quote from her:
"Book reading is a solitary and sedentary pursuit and those who do are cautioned that a book should be used as an integral part of a well-rounded life, including a daily regimen of rigorous physical exercise, rewarding personal relationships, and sensible low-fat diet. A book should not be used as a substitute or an excuse." (The Book of Guys by Garrison Keillor)
I decided not to buy any book for the holidays. A good book is a distraction.
But on December 27 at Powerbooks-Festival Mall while I was checking out possible gifts for some friends (I am usually the last to give gifts. I don't subscribe to pre-Christmas shopping), a book stood out, a book that shouldn't have been where it was, a book I remember from PB's G3 branch. I couldn't help saying, "Oh, it's you again." "You have to get me and read me," it was telling me. Fine. Without a moment's hesitation, I took it and bought it.
"Blindness" offered itself to me twice, this book ought to be so good. Ought to be better than most books I've read in recent months. And it had some great competitions. Recently I've read "Love in the Time of Cholera," I Know This Much Is True," "Things Fall Apart (a second reading; this time non-academic), and a host of other notable books.
And lo! It turns out to be better than GG Marquez's "Cholera"! And Achebe's "Things Fall Apart" is only slightly better. But of course, "Things Fall Apart" is from another dimension.
"Blindness" is a modern parable, too straightforward, too raw, too crude you'd think it came from the Old Testament. It doesn't say, "Excuse me, the next scenes are too gory, they're almost real. Please, skip the pages." It is about humanity stripped of television. It is about humanity in the highest level of undress. It is like "The Lord of the Flies" adult version.
Defamiliarization (ostranenie to my dear old professor), as the central technique for 20th century art, is telling us to see the old familiar in a different light. "Blindness" is telling us to see beyond seeing. It is the not having what we oh so take for granted that makes oh so wanting it that makes the common strangely almost perfect.
"One day, when we realize that we can no longer do anything good and useful we ought to have the courage simply to leave this world." Page 378. And you are bound to realize and know it is true that your life is not about you. That you live for others and others live for you and because of you. Fiction. I don't think so.
Today is the second day of the year and I have already read the one book I needed to read for 2011.
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