STEPHEN KING'S FIFTH SHORT STORIES COLLECTION: JUST AFTER SUNSET

One of the things I promised to do this year is to read a lot. That means twice or thrice more than I did last year which was one or two books per month. So I started 2013 with Stephen King's new volume of short stories which is collectively called as Just After Sunset. It's been a long time since I have read a short story and I guess it is time that I should acquaint again myself with this form of storytelling. A short story, as the name implies, is a short form of literature which is usually written in prose and focuses on a limited number of incidents with limited number of characters as possible. In my own opinion, the techniques used in writing a short story is similar to that of writing a novel but the challenge is that the author must conjure an effect or mood to the readers by using not more than 20,000 words (although there is no such clear parameter for the number of words that a short story must contain), or with just a few turning of the pages, or in just one sitting. I guess the best examples for a short story genre are Edgar Allan Poe's The Black Cat and Nick Joaquin's The Summer Solstice which are immortal classics and happen to be one of my favorites.

Back on King's Just After Sunset, I think the collection is a zigzag of literary accomplishments. There are stories that could bring an ordinary reader like me to the higher point and there are some that can drag you at the bottom. Not to mention some that are in between. Let me start with the stories that pulled me to the bottom of the zigzag line. The ones that I find dull and boring. First was Harvey's Dream which in my opinion was probably written by King during his lazy moments. As what he had told us in the book's end notes, he just wrote it in a single sitting and merely "little more than transcribing the tale his subconscious had already told" (because the idea of the story, according to him, came to him in a dream). Well my conjecture is that his subconscious was also sluggish during that time when the dream manifested no wonder it's lackluster. The story, Rest Stop, was also a yawn for me. Maybe because I find nosing on other people's business quite annoying. And that I detest the abused woman's trying to defend her abusive husband. And maybe because I have no such "alter ego" (or maybe I have not known him yet) for me to able to relate with the protagonist. But if the story will happen in real life to me, who knows? I might get interested. Another story, titled Graduation Afternoon, was one of those trivial works that King can write while having a piss. The story of a city melting down under a nuclear explosion is already over used in any form of entertainment medium that I don't really give a damn if the radiation will rot my brain. Next please! Now the last two stories which I will put in this category without thinking twice are The New York Times at Special Bargain Rates and Ayana. The former is just a rehash of the theme of the first story in the collection entitled Willa. King's description of after life's transitional place as that akin to a train station is nothing new since other authors have already used that metaphor. Example for this is Rowling's Harry Potter in which the deceased Dumbledore had a conversation with Harry in a place which is more like a train station during Harry's near death experience. Ayana on the other hand had projected images in my mutated brain which I totally forgot after I sneezed. The only thing worth remembering about the story is the irony that after the narrator's father was healed of cancer by a black sick girl who trespassed his house and impertinently planted a kiss on his father's cheek (again without permission), the narrator's dad had died eventually several years later after enjoying his extended life when a chunk of meat had stuck on his throat and cut his oxygen supply. And since I remembered this image, maybe Ayana wasn't a story to be forgotten after all. But I still find it pretty boring.

Now the stories in the collection that are passable enough, stories that will do when you have nothing else to do, are Willa, Stationary Bike,  and The Things They Left Behind. In Willa, the ghosts were once again trapped in a train station which would have me proceed to the next story had not for the little romance that King added in it which the hopeless romantic in me had bought it without further hesitation. Romance is indeed an overrated thing but still a commodity of great value and I know a lot will agree with me on that. The story Stationary Bike can be an inspiring story to those who need to shed off their extra adipose tissue. And I really don't know why the story has no appeal on me. I can make a few guesses though. Maybe because I love to eat. And maybe because I hate exercise. Lastly, maybe because I really really hate exercise (evil grin!!!). The last thing in this "in between" category is The Things They Left Behind which, according to King, was his way of exploring the impact of the 9/11 tragedy in his life. I don't want to be insensitive here because I know that the 9/11 event was one of the most horrifying acts of terrorism that ever happened in the history of the United States, but the thing is, I am still ignorant about the tragedy. And when I say ignorant, I am not saying that I do not know the facts, what I'm trying to say is that I cannot empathetically connect with the tragedy. The reason for this, as whispered by the voice at the back of my mind, is that I haven't yet explored the terrors that plucked my own country thus it is also futile to explore the terrors of others. Maybe years from now, who knows I may have a different view about this story.

We have been to the depressed points of the zigzag and likewise to the lines in between the points, now let us go to the peak ones: the stories that troubled my imagination, pounded my head, gave me tachycardia and several sleepless nights (blame it on the nightmares!). The main course of the meal! First stop is The Gingerbread Girl. Oh those adhesive tapes, I could hear them making the zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzttt! The window jump scene? Not new but still yummy. And of course the lunatic and his knife making a cut at the protagonist's lower eyelid while mumbling those nasty, lunatic words. A treat indeed for fans! At the middle of the story, all I could say (this I did inside my mind or else someone might call me a lunatic) was Run Emily! Run! But then again the protagonist in the story is a runner so I might just as well shut my brain's mouth. I know this kind of plot is already over-used (I Know What You Did Last Summer suddenly popped out of mind while writing this) but we still buy it because in real life, we are always on the run, chased by something. The next story in the "peak point" category which is I think the stand-out among the collection is titled N. Here, King tackled about OCD and the fear we have of the things beyond our understanding. What I love about this story is how the way King attack his readers' minds by slowly building up the mystery and then bang! Shot you with bullets of disturbing images! With this story, readers might ponder whether the things we fear really do exist or just the fabrication of our minds who happen to get cross beyond the walls sanity. Is there really other realities beside our's waiting to spill out into the one we now? What kind of horror does these other realities possess if ever they do exist? N. I must say is the short story version of Bram Stoker's Dracula and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein in which the story is unfold through the letters (or journals) of the main characters. After reading it, I couldn't help but to count the pillows I have in my bed. I have 4. And 4 is a safe number. But I still got nightmares afterwards. The Cat from Hell is a Stephen King classic which for the first time is included in a collection. Is there really such a thing as a cat bred out of pure malice? This question I asked myself after reading the story. Well I really don't know but the idea of a cute and seemingly-innocent looking killer cat is I guess brilliant. If only I could employ a cat like that to gnaw the innards of those persons I loathed. But then again, I have my allergic rhinitis and for sure a demonic cat will always consider its owner's innards to gnaw as a past time. On the other hand, the story titled Mute got me shock for a second or so after the twist was revealed at the latter part. Damn, it was like having a therapist and a hit-man in one! I don't think that the narrator has the slightest regret that he told everything to the mute and seemingly deaf (but actually not) hitchhiker. At least he doesn't have to stain his hands with the blood of his adulterous wife. I'm sure that deep in his heart he was laughing like a devil at the death of his wife and her "cowboy" lover. And the confession? Well at some point in our lives we all need absolution to appease our conscience. We all need redemption in the end. And speaking of redemption, thank goodness that Curtis Johnson has finally redeem himself from the filth of the portable toilet he was imprisoned in! Imagine being trapped inside a portable toilet that was tipped over and with all those unbearable smell and oozing muck coming from the toilet bowl?! Still couldn't?  Then read A Very Tight Place because King will supply you all the gross adjectives and adverbs. What I love about the story is that it is both scary and funny. And it tackles the human instinct to survive even in the midst of hopelessness. And of course I love the "pay-back time" part especially the scene when Curtis threw the unplugged hair-dryer to Tim while the latter was soaked in the bath tub that resulted to Tim screaming like a scared cat thinking that the appliance was still plugged in to the electric socket. Of course, Curtis owes his resurrection from the stinky portable toilet a little to his being a gay witch and a huge part to his dog Betsy. May she rest in peace after dying from electrocution.

And so that's it for now. I cannot say that this is the best short stories collection by King but it is worth the read. I highly recommend the collection especially to those who want to read a brief story before going to bed. Maybe just to make you fall asleep or just to give yourself a little scare. But I warn the curious readers that there are some parts of the collection that will make keep you awake all night. And then you will start counting sheep. Just make it sure that you end with an even number. Okay?  =))

PLANKTON OF NURSING?

The arena is full. It is already crammed with bloody gladiators with some already reaching the level of "expert blood lusts". Neophytes like me may likely get killed before we begin the battle for survival. Some have survived long enough but they are still until now considered as neophytes. Sacrificial pawns in the game of chess. Floating plankton at the very bottom of the food chain. Volunteers  caring for the number of patients beyond their capacity. Exploited to the point of exhaustion. A very sad scene. This is the arena of the Philippine nursing.

The number of nurses here in our country have already exceeded the demand which resulted to unemployment. This phenomena have occurred because of the the hype way back in which first world countries were having a shortage of nurses thus they resorted to employ Filipino nurses to fill the void. But after some countries regulated their hiring of Filipino nurses because of the worldwide recession, the result is an overwhelming backlog. At present, nurses have proliferated every single corner of our country. There is one for every crowd. One for every purok or barangay. It even became a joke in the nursing profession that with the number of nurses we have right now, the Philippines must be the safest country in the whole world.

With this sad scenario, as a registered nurse in this country it might not be a surprise if I will consider a new path to tread. A new stage where I can shine and capture the attention of the audience. A new industry where I can be a best-seller. A green pasture where the herds are few. Yes, I love nursing but loving something that is elusive is a tiring endeavor especially now that I am no longer getting younger (although my heart still is! he he he...). This year I might set my focus on a new career. Although I am still not 100% sure about it yet because "first love never dies" as the saying goes but I am considering that option. This is the beauty of life ---- endless options, endless possibilities. Way back I took up nursing because I want to serve humanity and at the same time get rich. But now, I guess I have to serve humanity and get wealthy in a different way. Through social work maybe? Hmmm... Maybe. Or it could be the other way around. But one thing is for sure, I will try my very best not to be one of the plankton of the nursing profession although by heart, I am still a nurse. Ready to serve and to care.

Mayad nga adlaw! =)

THE ARMAGEDDON OF THE SMOKERS

Armageddon was cancelled last December 21, 2012 (the Mayans miscalculated, they detest Algebra just like you and me) but for the smokers of Barangay Aganan, Pavia, Iloilo (and in some part of the nation), it seems like doomsday had just started the moment the clock's hands signaled the entry of the year 2013. In just a matter of days after the new year, the supply of cigarettes suddenly became scarce as packets of this "deadly commodity" started to disappear one by one in their display counters like righteous believers caught up in the rapture of the Second Coming. Not only that, the carcinogenic babies' prize have also doubled because of the effectivity of R.A. 10531, otherwise known as the Sin Tax Law, which made some smokers flinched upon knowing the new price hike like somebody inside their bodies had just switched on the start button of the withdrawal syndrome.

I am a "tindero" right now in my aunt's mini-convenient store here in Aganan (a job which is not bad for a penniless Filipino registered nurse like me) that is why I know all the sentiments of most of the smokers in this place. With regards to the increase in prize, some said on the spot that they will quit smoking for good but of course they meant it half-heartedly. Old habits are hard to die. On the other hand, the issue about the depleting supply of cigarettes in malls and retail stores, intelligent smokers with neurons activated by nicotine have theorized that the distributors are hoarding last years stocks so that when the Sin Tax Law will take it's effect, they can sold it for the prize ordered by the law. A very clever business strategy they said. Thus, the latter event has caused a lot of smokers to look for the brand of cigarettes they prefer anywhere and everywhere. Like worker ants searching for food. Some of them even reached the point of searching these brands in remote barrios' sari-sari stores since most of the malls and grocery stores in the city and poblacion areas were out-of-stocked. There was this guy who every night asked me if we already have a stock of Marlboro black and everytime I answer "no", it was like the sky literally fall on him, his face an utter canvass of sadness and misery. Puldo, a trisikad driver here in Aganan, have tried to substitute his favorite Marlboro original with the cheaper Westpoint brand since the former brand was absent for almost a week in the display counter and the latter have been snubbed for a long time that it stayed there for a month, untouched. After consuming a stick, Puldo replied that smoking Westpoint instead of Marlboro is like having sex with 10 layers of condom covering your penis. Totally bland and tasteless. Since I am not a smoker, I could not directly relate to his metaphor. But when he said that it's like sipping lukewarm Pepsi instead of ice-cold Coke, I totally got him right away.

I really can't say as of now if this Sin Tax Law is the answer to lessen the incidents of diseases brought about by smoking. As what  I have mentioned earlier, old habits are hard to die. 3-5 pesos per stick of cigarette is already painful for the pocket especially if you are just a minimum-waged earner. But when tingling of the extremities, profuse sweating, cramps, nausea, headache, sore throat, coughing, insomnia, mental confusion, irritability, anxiety and depression set in, I'm sure these chain-smokers will return to their old vice no matter what the cost. Smokers have their grip on the stick but the truth is, nicotine has its grips on the smokers' lives. I know that it is not easy to get out from addiction because it needs a very strong will power. That is why I pray for all the smokers who will try to quit smoking this year, may the force be with you all. For all those smokers who haven't decided yet, another surge of cigarette prize hike will happen next year as indicated by the Sin Tax Law so better think about it or you may be buying  a cigarette pack next year at the same cost of the underwear brand you are wearing. Lastly, as a health professional, I still believe that educating smokers is still the best way to convince them to start quitting.

MY OWN CYBERCRIME PREVENTION ACT

The Cyberspace is in total chaos! Protests both in the physical world and on the web have been waged lately just to assert the right of freedom of speech and/or expression after the Republic Act 10175 or commonly known the Cybercrime Prevention Act of 2012 has been implemented. Aside from these protests, web hackers have also invaded and disabled a lot of government websites as an another sign of protest, showing their disapproval and rage with regards to the said new law. One of the provisions that the protesters are concerned about is the so called "online libel" found in Chapter 3 Section 4 which stated:

(4) Libel. – The unlawful or prohibited acts of libel as defined in Article 355 of the Revised Penal Code, as amended committed through a computer system or any other similar means which may be devised in the future.

With this provision, the Filipino people, especially the "cyber residents" are fearing that this will hamper our freedom to say what we want to say, whether it is good or bad to the ears. So therefore, now that this law has been implemented, the warning is: BE CAREFUL OF WHAT YOU POST AND WHAT YOU TWEET! =)

Anyway, if I was given the chance to be one of the authors of this Cybercrime Prevention Act, I would  have surely included the following provisions as punishable acts:

1. NARCISSISTIC SHOTS. Any individual uploading 5 albums of his/her solo shots or portraits is subject to this act. It doesn't mean that you have to flood other people's walls with 120 photos of that stupid hairstyle of yours just because you feel pretty.

2. CANNIBALISTIC ENGLISH GRAMMAR. Avoid using the English language in your posts or tweets if you are unsure about your grammar. Posts such as: "Maybe it is not my faith to win", "You are a beach! Beach! Duh!", "Dont you dear call me, gago!" and "You insult me ha? I can never affected. Bleh!"

3. TOTALLY NONSENSE INFORMATION DISSEMINATION. Posts like "I'm sleepy na,", "So tired.", "Bored." and "=)" are utter waste of space on your "friends'" walls. These posts must be immediately reported and stopped!

4. GRUESOME INFORMATION ASSAULT. Posts that depict morbid, gross and yucky imagery are subject to this provisions. Examples are: "Ay, bakit kulay green itong kulangot ko?", "OMG! OMG! Yellowish sticky puss is bursting out from my wound!", and "Super lakas ng regla ko ngayon, naka-4 pads na ako! =(" This criminals must also undergo psychiatric evaluation before incarceration.

5. KSP SOCIAL CLIMBER. This country is already populated with pathetic people such as corrupt government officials. While they fill their pockets with the people's money, a lot of marginalized citizens are drowning into the quagmire of poverty. Same so with these KSP Social Climbers on the web, they are so preoccupied posting their signature and fake collections of shoes, bras, panties, etc. just to be acknowledged. Never knowing that a lot of people out there couldn't even afford to buy a can of sardine.  So insensitive, not even a grain of humility left. And yeah, their posts, unbearable! "Here at SM City, so busy shopping." So what?

6. EMO TO THE CORE. "I miss him so badly. Hu hu hu... =((", " I wanna die na!!!", "Ikaw pa rin ang laman ng puso't isip ko hanngang ngayon." "I can't sleep thinking of you. I can't even breathe!"------------> Spare me! Guilty beyond reasonable doubt!

7. JEJEMONOGRAPHY. "30wh foh! h0\/\/ r u n4h?" Distortion of the mind. This must be stopped for Christ's sake!

Well, there you go. I have deliberated these provisions in my head for 15 minutes and I guess, for an idle mind, I find them logical enough. (Laughing out loud.) So if you like to amend the current Cybercrime Prevention Act with these provisions, then vote for me in this coming election. Romerei Macarse for senator!

Ciao!

THESE PEOPLE IN WHITE

I was 11 years old when I was first hospitalized because of acute gastroenteritis. Hopefully, that will also be the last. Anyway, I still remember clearly my stay in the hospital. The doctors, particularly the nurses, made an impression in my young mind aside of course from that dreadful chemical smell I always associate with hospitals (in which I later learned that it's called Cidex), the gruesome comfort rooms which made me tiptoe every time I entered to void, the uncomfortable bed sheets that smelled like they were soaked with chlorine for a very long time, and the intravenous fluid attached to my wrist's vein which made me feel like I was a some sort of an experimental creature I watched on TV. I both revered and feared the doctors during that time and I really don't know why until now. Maybe because they are often times serious and have this air of "dignified beings". But the nurses were different. I find them congenial, caring, soft and with a smile ready to flash when approaching their anxious clients. Quite the opposite of the nurses that we have right now. But then again, I can say that, not all at least. And that, there's a reason behind that.

So from that time onward, I had this dream of becoming a doctor, because I wanted to be dignified (who doesn't want to anyway?), or becoming a nurse because I want to be like an angel. Why angel? Because  every time I saw nurses in their white uniform, my young mind couldn't help but adore their neatness and "immaculateness", thinking that these people look so clean and so smart at the same time! It seems like watching them can heal both the heart and the mind!

Now that I am nurse, I could say that behind the white uniform that makes us look spankingly neat, behind the smile that seems to know no prejudice, and behind the adroit movements when doing interventions, is a job and a responsibility that is often times demanding, taxing and crucial. Our society have this notion that nursing is always equated with dollar and that when you are a nurse, you are either rich or will soon be rich. Little did they know that we often get small amount of sleep and that our schedules doesn't jive with the circadian rhythm; that we often skip meals and snacks just to finish our documentations; that we spend most of our 8-hour shift standing beside our patient in critical condition, monitoring every changes in vital signs; that idling is never been our business because every second counts especially when you are handling 20 clients alone; that we always become the shock and anxiety absorber --- clients plea on us for help, folks blame us when something goes wrong, doctors and co-workers ventilate their weariness, frustrations and anger at us when the day gets toxic;  and that we are always anxious about the safety and wellness of our clients to the point of never minding our own. When a nurse is on duty, he/she must be ready physically for the hustle and bustle in the work area, intellectually for safe clinical judgment and interventions, emotionally for all the feelings that might be projected toward him/her, and spiritually for the circumstances that might challenge his or her personal beliefs. With this aspects working simultaneously, a nurse might burn out sooner. With the health care industry presently growing more demanding, I am not surprised why there many grumpy and moody nurses today. They have no regrets about their profession, simply they are just overworked and under compensated. Exploited to be exact by this country who doesn't know how to value these people in white uniform who are always in the front line of the health care industry. Nurses care, but who will care for them? I wonder.

EVERYDAY IS A VALENTINE

Yesterday was the Day of Hearts a.k.a Valentine's Day. I started my day waking up early for my morning shift duty at the hospital. The the next 8 hours I spent by taking care of my patients. As a nurse and as a person who have been through with life's struggles and harshness, I guess the best way to spend the Valentine is to spread the love by making other people feel that someone is still caring for them and by making them smile. That despite all of the challenges and sufferings we face everyday, we never fail to remind each other that life is still a beautiful thing, a wonderful experience, and a journey full of amazing revelations and surprises.

In my profession, people (or clients/patients) are always the center of our service, the recipient of what we do best --- CARE, and it is the smile that flashes on their faces upon seeing us that we nurses consider as the most fulfilling reward. Because those smiles signify that we made them happy and comfortable, that we eased their pain and suffering, thus, we aided them in their healing process. I love my profession, I love my job, and I love taking care of other people. Everyday for me is an opportunity to spread that love to others. Therefore, everyday for me is a Valentine's Day. I hope that love is not isolated on February 14, I hope that love beats within our hearts with every tick of a second as we continue to live in this world.

Happy Valentine beautiful people!

P.S. Belated Happy Valentine's Day to my Nanay, to my four brothers, to the rest of my family, to my palaka, to my friends, and likewise to those who consider me as their enemy. I cast my love to you guys! Mwah! <3

Thank You 2011, Welcome 2012

I haven't entered anything in this blog for a very long long time. A lot of things happened in my life last year, some were good, some were bad, and the rest were in between, that the roller coaster ride I had last 2011 made me dizzy though in a great way 'cause it molded me into a better man. I am thankful that another chapter of my life had been revealed and I think I played my part well. He he he... Anyway, since it's a brand new year, I guess I have to write something here to express my overwhelming gratitude for all the blessings and joys I had received last year and like wise for all the trials and pains that had made tough and resilient both in heart and in spirit. I am sure that 2012 would be an another exciting year for me. I can't wait for all the dramas and the funny moments, for all the twists and shocking revelations, and for all the endings and new beginnings that will about to unfold this year. I said that I played my part well last 2011, this 2012 though I'll put more passion to it. I will win life's "Oscar" for life is nothing but a movie with no cameras and no retakes.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Neighbors From Hell

Mark, Toto, Jun-Jun, Inday and Marimar reside in a house next to us. I don't want to call them as neighbors since we are not close. Fact is, I detest them with every inch of my soul. I must admit that they all look cute that you just can't help but adore them upon first glance. But then, I am quite sure that you will have a change of heart later. Why? Because they have this behavior that upon seeing any human being at close range they will all launch at you like some hungry monsters drooling with saliva and ready to bite you if they find it fancy enough. Not only that, the noise they make at night will surely force you to wake up, kneel beside your bed and pray for their total annihilation. I must say that they are the abominations in our block.

There was a time that I would really like to confront them and tell them that they are barbaric, uncivilized, mean and a public disturbance. That they should change their ways and behave like decent beings. But how in the hell will you confront dogs? Tell me. Even their owner is having a hard time telling them.

I Started A Joke

A former classmate of mine posted some of our "hard-to-find" pictures during high school in Facebook. I was elated. Same so with my other former classmates since most of them clicked the LIKE button on each pic (I wonder why there's no DISLIKE to click on?). I don't have copies of those pictures anymore since all of my high school pics were washed away by the flood brought by typhoon Frank. So as I've said, I'm very glad that my classmate had the initiative and time to post them and tag me. While browsing, I realized we were so jologs back then with those funny hairstyles, loose shirts, straight-cut above-the-ankle jeans, lousy sneakers, and yeah, the naive looks. I really couldn't help but smile.I was looking at the younger version of me and "he" seemed like a different person. Time indeed can change everything as it spins.

One of my classmates then posted a comment in one of the pics saying that we all look too innocent. Very far from what we are now, he added. Another one replied by saying not all. And another one posted asking if we are sure that all of us during that time were innocent (and put a smiley at the end). I knew right from the start that these comments were just jokes to spice up the flow of the conversation. And so I went with the flow. I cracked up a joke saying one of us I guess is not already a virgin during that time. I first referred that joke to myself although all I knew during my high school time was the "hand job" (LOL). But then one of my classmates posted and asked me if who am I talking about? It so happened that that inquiring classmate was the most flirtatious girl in our class. She even had two or more boyfriends at the same time during our senior year, a playgirl reputation in short. So without thinking twice, I replied "It was you." I was grinning while I typed that short sentence 'cause it was intended as a joke. But little did I know that that joke would be a big issue the next day after.

The morning I woke up after I posted that comment, I got a total of 15 emails from my classmates and all of them were reactions ranging from admonition to outrage. The outrage of course came from the person whom I threw the joke upon which by the way owned 4 of the emails out of 15. She was so mad at me for that joke because according to her I disgraced her dignity. Further more, she added that she was still a certified virgin during that time and that my comment made her family angry since most of her siblings and cousins have Facebook accounts and that they have read the comment I made. My other classmates on the other hand told me that it was a foul thing to say in a social network.

I realized my mistake. It was foul indeed. A social networking site is not a place for such jokes since it can be read by anybody and considering that we Filipinos are still conservatives. I was carried away by the flow of the conversation that I failed to realize how simple jokes could hurt other people. Yeah, my classmate maybe a flirt but that doesn't give me the right to comment whatever I want about her. I was so plain stupid. I forgot my internet etiquette.

The next thing I did of course was apologized to my classmate and to her family profusely and I did that not just personally but publicly in Facebook where it all started. Talking about swallowing your pride in cyberspace! But I guess that's the right thing to do. A gentleman must learn to accept his mistakes. I know my pride is important but I also value my friends greater than my pride. Humility they say can make you a better man and so I hope. So the next time you post something in the internet, think twice first before pressing enter. Remember that words spoken or written and read can never be retracted. It could either build up or destroy a spirit. Learn from my mistake.

Eating The Fruit Of Your Labor Makes You Forget About Your Diet

Planting rice is not easy, that's what our traditional folk song says and I guess it's true. But it failed to mention that drying rice grain is also a laborious job too, well that's what I have experienced today. Ha ha ha... In rural areas like our humble town Maasin, some people do not go directly to grocery stores and buy rice for their meals. Instead, they dry rice grains and have it milled. This happens especially in the case of those who have rice farms. Like in the case of my Aunt.

Rice milling here in our town is semi-traditional. I call it "semi" since we are already using milling machine (which is nontraditional) through mobile milling trucks, the locals call it here as "traveling" or "kuliglig" (which you can contact anytime through texting --- the power of modern technology), as opposed to the "bayo" or the crushing process. But we still dry the rice while they are still in their hulls or husks with the use of the sun's heat which is a traditional method. What we do is that we spread the grains over the amacan or bamboo mat and leave it there for 3 to 5 hours under the sun's scorching heat. After that, the grains are then ready to be milled.

I volunteered to do the drying today since it's my day off. I didn't know what had gotten into me at that moment but I raised up my hand anyway when my aunt asked for a volunteer. The good and reliable nephew that is me. Ha ha ha... One thing that surprised me about the task was the discovery that I could lift one sack of unmilled rice. And I lifted a total of four sacks! How's that? Feeling Superman! Ha ha ha... The only thing I hate about rice drying is my allergy with rice hulls. My skin, especially in the area of my forearms, gets itchy and red upon contact with the hulls. I took a bath right after I spread the rice in the amacan and right after I placed them back in the sacks after drying. I then contacted the traveling and in just a few minutes, bingo! One sack and a half of milled white rice.

The lesson I learned about this experience is that eating the rice you labored upon is quite appetizing. Each grain in your plate seems like a precious stone that must not be wasted down to the trash bin. It makes you eat with gusto and it makes you forget about your one-cup-of-rice-only diet. More rice please!

All About Movies

This entry is the second part of the one I previously posted titled Life On Tube. This time I am going to talk about the movies I have watched lately.

-oOo-

THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION

Keeping hope alive amidst desperate and miserable conditions was the thought that struck (and eventually inspired) me after watching The Shawshank Redemption starring Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman. The movie is based on Stephen King's novella titled Rita Hayworth And The Shawshank Redemption which is one of the many works of King adapted into the silver screen. Other themes that revolve around the movie are the sense of freedom despite physical isolation and perseverance against all odds. The movie at the start was a little bit solemn for me which gave me the prejudice impression that it might be boring, but as it progressed, the mystery of Robbin's character named Andy started to intrigue me. Questions suddenly flocked my brain like Did he really murdered his wife and his wife's lover? He keeps on repeating time after time that he is innocent, what if he is? What's with the enigmatic smile? Why does it seem like he's always detached from the people around him although from time to time he does reach out to his fellow inmates? There's something fishy about the rock hammer Andy smuggled into his cell aside of course from the reason he stated that he is going to use it in carving chess pieces out of rocks. Is he going to use it to escape prison? But how? Does he have the intention to break prison right from the start? Why does he want his friend Red (played by Morgan Freeman) to find the cache he buried in a certain remote spot in Buxton? What does the box contain anyway? Most of all, what is his secret? As I reached the latter part of the movie, the climactic part I must say, it was like someone pounded a hammer at the back of my head! I was so surprised by the revelations that it made me gaped for a minute. For 20 years Andy had carefully and clandestinely planned his escape from the said maximum security prison. Well the 20 years of patience and hard work (not to mention the tortures) was all worth it. He broke free together with the warden's money (a karma I mus say for the corrupt warden). Genius! If there is one thing that the movie made an impression to me, it is the thought that in this harsh and cold world, clinging to hope is the only thing that can make us keep on living and likewise can maintain our grip to sanity.

-oOo-

RINGU 1, 2, & 0

Ringu is the Japanese horror movie where the American version The Ring was adapted. Even though I was only depending on the English subtitle to fully comprehend the film, it didn't fail to give me the scare I needed. The movie is about a video film whom after watching it the person will instantly receive a call from an anonymous caller who doesn't respond anyway. The said video, with disturbing and scary images in it, is actually a cursed one in which after a week of watching it, the viewer dies from unexplained death which is usually characterized with the victim's face disfigured in a gruesome manner. Ringu tells the story of a tv reporter named Asakawa Reiko whom after investigating the mysterious death of her niece led her to search for the cursed video tape attributed to her niece's death. Upon discovering the said video tape in the place where her niece and her friends found and watched it, Reiko was tempted to watch the video (and eventually received a call from an anonymous speechless caller as expected) and later realized that the curse was indeed true. With one week left, Reiko and her ex-husband Takayama ,who had also watched the video, ventured into seeking the history of the tape in the hope that they will be able to find a way to break free from the curse of death. Their investigation led them to Izu Oshima Island and eventually the discovery that a girl named Sadaku was responsible for the creation of the cursed video tape.

The film later revealed that Sadaku was a child with immense psychic powers. So immense that she could make a person dead on the spot by just thinking of it. Because of this ability, her father considered her as trouble and dangerous so he decided to throw her into a well and trapped her there until she died. But before Sadaku perished, she was able to imprint her thoughts of hatred and malice on a video tape thus the cursed video came into existence. With that scene of how the girl Sadako died flashed on Takayama's thought due to his clairvoyant ability, he and Reiko decided to uncover Sadaku's body in the well thinking that it was the only act that could save them both, including their son who had also watched the tape, from imminent death. Sure indeed they found Sadaku's body and reported it to the police. But just when they thought that it was over, Sadaku's vengeful spirit attacked Takayama the following night, leaving him dead and with a face that was badly disfigured. Reiko was baffled upon her ex-husband's death because she thought that they had already broke the curse but it seemed that they were wrong. And why was she still alive although a week had already gone by since she watched the video? As she thought about what she had done that spared her from Sadaku's wrath, she later realized that her act of making a copy of the tape was the one that saved her from the curse. And so Reiko went to her son to try and save him, thus, the cycle of copying the evil tape for the survival of anyone who watch it continues.

The killing ghost of Sadaku never actually scared me. What gave me the creep were the disturbing images in the video. Likewise the thought of living inside the well for almost 28 years for it was also revealed in the film that although Sadaku was thrown in the well 30 years ago, the autopsy finding of the police authority stated that the body was dead for almost 2 years only. So what was Sadaku been doing all along inside the well for almost 3 decades? Drinking murky water? Eating rocks? And one more thing, the nail-less fingers of Sadaku must be the result of her struggles of trying to climb up out of the well. Pretty creepy!

The sequel and prequel of Ringu, Ringu 2 and Ringu 0: Birthday respectively, are also sure hit scary. But the latter I must say took a twist by telling that it was not Sadaku who killed her victims but her evil twin sister who accompanied her in the spirit form while she was still alive. I just want to suggest not to watch these movies before going to bed. You may end up trying not to peek whose under your bed. Ha ha ha...

-oOo-

THE GODFATHER I

I am always intrigued with the Mafias. I am not a violent creature by nature but gang wars and criminal syndicates portrayed in movies, television, and literature fascinate me. Maybe it is their cunning and the dynamic of their "profession" ('cause you'll never know who's your real friend and who's your enemy) that draws me or maybe it is my own outlet of releasing my "sense of danger". Naks!

I watched The Godfather (based on Mario Puzo's novel) because a lot of modern literature wrote about it, because it is considered by the American Film Institute as the greatest American movie of all time, ranking at number one, because a lot of my friends recommended it to me, and because as I have said earlier, I love gang wars. I must admit that it is the first time that I have watched it though the film was made 33 years ago. I think the reason why it took me so long to watch this film was maybe because I had this impression way back that movies from the 70 era downward were kind of boring which was of course a wrong opinion for there are lots of good, even great movies, during the time I wasn't born yet.

The Godfather appealed to me greatly after watching it not because of the violence and the business of crime but because of the impression that the movie was trying to impart which was family must always comes first. The bond shared by the Corleone family towards each other was so strong that even the adopted members and the caporegimes felt that they were part of the Corleone's blood. I guess this is what makes the feudal system of the Mafias work, the lords make their vassals feel that they are valuable, that they are important members of a big powerful family. Thus, the lords (the dons in the case of the movie) hold their vassals reverence, loyalty, and service.

There are two actors in the movie that awed me with their performance namely, Marlon Brando and Al Pacino. Brando as Don Corleone successfully portrayed the man torn between power and the love for his family. For me, Don Corleone is a character which is an abstract to himself. He is compassionate but ruthless. Helpful to those who acknowledge him as the godfather and to those who ask his favor yet merciless to those who crosses his path. He seems like a silent and a somber person yet his mind is cunning and his actions are carefully planned. He protects all his subjects and crushes all his detractors. He is a doting father and at the same time the feared boss of crime business. With all these opposing qualities combined in the person of Don Vitto Corleone, no wonder he is a strong tower which the other families (a.k.a. groups of organized crime) in the US are trying to bring down. And no wonder too that all his subjects respect and revere him greatly. I guess I can say that no other man could play Don Corleone best but Brandon himself.

Al Pacino on the other hand just proved me in this epic that he is already a brilliant actor during his youth and even greater until now. His presence in the film commands attention I must say. His sudden transformation from a World War II military man and an enigmatic favorite son of the Corleone family into the big boss of crime syndicate (he replaced the deceased Don Vitto at the latter part) is I think the storyline in the movie that made a distinct imprint on the minds of the viewers. Just like Brandon, Pacino is indeed the perfect actor for the character of Michael. The two complimented each other and they've brought such spark to the movie that left viewers like me burning for more. I've got to watch the installments of the trilogy sooner. I must.

-oOo-

A Time To Kill

I love most of John Grishams' novels. The good plots, the vivid characters, the suspense, the legal concepts, and the philosophical question of what is right from wrong that often resonates in his works always stimulate my brain. That is why watching A Time To Kill's film adaptation was a blast. Joel Schumacher was great in trying to be true to the book although there were some alterations which was of course necessary because you can't put everything in the book to the reel. Matthew McConaughey was very feisty in his role as Atty. Jake Brigance and of course I must also give credit to Samuel L. Jackson for playing convincingly the character of Carl Lee Hailey, the avenging father of a raped 10-year-old girl.

The movie revolves around the themes such as racism, family and morality especially the question if it is right to avenge the brutal death the one you love? The movie also dwell in the question, What violent act can be considered as legal insanity? The film was a roller-coaster of suspense and emotion for me that it feels like I've been static in the couch for almost 2 hours. In the end Hailey was acquitted, thank goodness, and the series of threats against Brigance and those people helping him were finally put to an end. I really wondered what will I feel if I were in the place of Hailey. Will I kill the persons who violated by daughter's innocence? And what if I were Brigance, will I try to defend Hailey despite of all the odds that I will be facing in the future and that includes endangering my family's life just because I believe that what I am fighting for is the right thing to do? I love movies that raises questions in my head, they're like caffeine that keeps my neurons awake. He he he...

And oh by the way, Sandra Bullock was sexy in this film!

-oOo-

The Prince Of Persia: The Sands Of Time
Jerry Buckheimer, the man who gave us Armageddon, The Pirates of the Caribbean Series, and many other box-office hit movies had once again dished us with another action-packed adventure and this time, the setting was in the ancient empire of Persia. The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time starring Jake Gyllenhall is the film version of the famous video game with the same title. The movie tells about the story of a young vagabond, rascal, street kid or whatever named Dastan (Gyllenhall), whose agility and skills in combat impressed the king thus adopted by the latter and as he turned into a full grown man became one of the leaders of the empire's army.

Together with his foster brothers and uncle, they led a legion of soldiers to conquer the sacred city of Alamut which was ruled by a beautiful princess named Tamina, played by actress Gemma Arterton (this Bond girl is hot!). The siege of the said city was a success leading to the capture of the princess and Dastan's secret discovery of the Dagger of Time. But Dastan's victory was short lived because he was tricked by his foster uncle through his innocent brother Tus to present the king with a poisoned robe which killed the king right after donning it. Dastan became at large and hunted leading to the unlikely alliance between him and Tamina which hated him for destroying her city and for stealing the the powerful dagger.

And so Dastan and Tamina were hunted. Nizam, the king's brother, adviser, and culprit of the king's death on the other hand, hired the Hassasins which was a group composed of skilled warriors who were wiling to slay anyone in exchange for payments to kill the "fugitives". But well, it seemed that Dastan was more skilled than them (he's the main protagonist anyway, duh!) so in the end all the Hassasins perished with a little help from Dastan's faithful minions and it's payback time for Uncle Nizam. The climax of the film happened in Alamut where Nizam's treachery was revealed which led to a battle between uncle and foster nephew. Of course, Dastan won at the end and peace was once again restored in the Empire of Persia and the sacred city of Alamut. I don't know if Dastan and Tamina will end up as husband and wife because it was not included in the movie but Dastan gave us a hint by saying to Tamina that he's looking forward to spend his life with her. Yehey! Toinks!

-oOo-

Ok there you go. I'll post more of the movies I've watched lately and my thoughts about them. As of now, I have to rest my tired eyes. Ciao!

Life On Tube

I have nothing to do lately so life is starting to become boring again. It's a good thing that I have all these downloaded movies and television shows (don't ask me where I get them LOL!), at least I could escape from reality's boredom to surrealism's fiction and fantasy. Starting last week I have begun a marathon of all my favorite movies and television shows and I enjoyed it. I found out that life on couch (aside from my life on bed when I do my readings) is a good refuge for a bored creature like me. I started my tube marathon with the season 1 of Glee which I've finished by the way for just a day. Man, the show was hilarious and wickedly funny! And of course, the musical numbers were awesome! I commend Ryan Murphy, the creator of the show, for creating such an inspiring (yet funny) show dedicated for the underdogs and the outcasts like me... he he he. The Power of Madonna and likewise the Journey episodes were the ones I like best. I hope they will make tribute episodes for great artists like The Beatles, Michael Jackson, U2, Eric Clapton, and Elton John in the near future. I can't wait for season 2 to come especially now that Charice (her character in the show by the way is Sunshine Corazon --- can't they find another name aside from that?) is in. Watching the teasers for season 2 is killing me! Huh!

The power to bring back the dead to life is what Ned "The Piemaker", played by blooming actor Lee Pace, possesses in the fantasy comedy series Pushing Daisies. I love the show because of it's fresh storyline, crisp dialogue, and superb visual design. Watching the show was like watching a mini-movie of Tim Burton. In the show, the lead protagonist Ned as I have mentioned earlier has the power to revive the dead with just a touch and make the resurrected person lifeless again, this time for good, with just another touch. Not only that, Ned also discovered that keeping the dead person alive for more than one minute would result to another tragedy: someone has to die in replace for the one resurrected. This consequence is randomly selected by the cosmic force so you'll never know who's gonna die next (but usually, someone near the vicinity of the person brought back to life is the unfortunate replacement). The story of the show goes with Ned bringing back his childhood sweetheart and only love Charlotte "Chuck" Charles to the land of the living after the latter was murdered on a boat trip. Supposedly, Ned's purpose of resurrecting the love of his life was to uncover the real identity of the murderer since Ned entered into a partnership with private investigator Emerson Cod but unfortunately, Ned was conquered by his overwhelming love for Chuck so he kept the woman alive. The dilemma begins with Ned not being able to touch Charlotte for it will make her dead again forever. So they tried anything they could think of just to be able to "touch" one another and that includes kissing with a cellophane in between (pretty creative!). Another character that adds spice to the show is the pie waitress Olive Snook played by the amazing actress Kristin Chenoweth. Man, she's a natural comic! I just can't stop grinning when Olive is around. And she can sing! Kristin by the way also guest starred in season 1 of Glee. She's astounding! No wonder she won an Emmy for best supporting actress in Pushing Daisies. I finished watching the two seasons of the show in just one day and a half and it made my back hurt for sitting almost 24 hours! Tsk tsk tsk... Very unhealthy I must say.

Another show I'm so hooked up with is Grey's Anatomy. I'm currently following season 3 so I still have a lot to catch on since the show is already on its 7th season. As of now, all I know is that I hate Meredith Grey because she's like bitch-whore, making up with a surgeon and a veterinarian at the same time, and the rest of the characters were just simply amazing particularly Izzy, Christina, Miranda, George and Karev. The season 2 finale was really heart-pounding with a bonus plus of Christina Ricci as a guest star playing a scared-to-death-rat paramedic. How I wished the bomb exploded while Meredith was holding it. Unfortunately it didn't happen because it would no longer be Grey's Anatomy if Meredith will explode into smithereens. But how about killing Meredith and renaming the show into Steven's Anatomy? Or O'Malley's Anatomy? Or Karev's Anatomy? That would be great I guess but I know it won't happen. LOL...

After Grey's Anatomy season 3 I think next on my list will be either Lost, Vampire Diaries, Nurse Jackie or Modern Family before I proceed with season 4. Haaay.... My aunt is already complaining about our electric bill soaring high but in this modern time, that is just one of the prices we must pay for diversion and entertainment. On my next post I'll be writing about the movies I've watched lately. Ciao!

Horror Ride

August 23, 2010, from morning to dusk, the whole world focused their attention on Quirino Grand Stand, Luneta, Manila through their televisions to witness one of the most horrifying hostage drama, if not in the whole world, then in the Philippine history. The hostages were Filipino and Chinese nationals aboard on a tour bus, the perpetrator was a "deranged" ex-policeman (who wanted his former job back), and the negotiators were ummm... how will I put this into proper context... clowns in SWAT uniforms. I'm sorry about that description, it may sound offensive but I'm entitled to my opinion anyway.

The incident was an example of wanton display of violence turned into some sort of a circus. It really made me wonder if our policemen particularly the SWAT knew by heart the special operating procedures, guidelines, protocol or whatsoever about hostage crisis management? It seems like they were following some sort of Jurassic-age protocol. They were like elementary kids playing hide and seek. Very disheartening. I must say that our government should look into the depth of the issue and learn from it. It's a wake up call for our government officials and likewise for our police authority to strengthen the preparedness of our law enforcers on different situations not only in hostage takings. Our policemen must be trained well, always updated with the new trends and technologies that will make their law enforcing effective (and safe to the public), they must know by heart the guidelines of protecting human rights, and yes, the government should find ways too to boost their morale.

Until now, I am still wondering where were the high ranking officials (e.g. the mayor of Manila, the heads of PNP, the people of DND) during the hostage ordeal? Supposedly, in critical situations such as this, there must be someone in position present and in control. Well it seems like they joined all the Filipinos in the whole archipelago staying at wherever they may be and glued themselves on their televisions watching the situation like it was just some sort of a Pinoy action movie. Even the President could not be reached by the ambassador of China (or Hong Kong) and the reason given was that he was so engrossed in a close door meeting with regards to how the situation must be handled. As the line of one of Paula Cole's songs goes: "Where have all the cowboys gone?"

The terrifying event became more of a fiasco with all the medias covering the incident inch by inch. It was more like a boxing event that each movement was analyzed to the point of exaggeration. It even came to the point that some media men acted like negotiators with all their phone interviews with Mendoza the hostage taker which supposedly should not be the case. With all their coverage of the incident, the media people failed to put into consideration that maybe the perpetrator was monitoring what was happening outside since most tour and airconditioned busses have television set inside thus giving him information that could help him plan for his next moves. In the effort of getting the most exclusive scoops just to raise their stations rating (let's face it, it's all about ratings!), the idea that maybe they are hampering the negotiation process didn't cross their minds. Shame.

The said hostage crisis ended not like most action movies do in which the criminal got caught (or was shot dead) and all returned to normal then the credits appeared. It ended more like of a Shakespearean tragedy with most of the actors involved dead, in this case the hostages, and then the blaming starts (as usual).

What really made me pondered after this incident was the fact that a police enforcer had done such crime in broad daylight, alone and with less fear and hesitation. It made me think how a promising and a good public servant was pushed to do such despicable act. Was it really Mendoza's fault? Or was he just one of the victims in this tragic circus? Was the hostage taking that took eight innocent lives the action of a man whose sanity was ravaged by the injustice of our social system? Or was it the deed of a man with no conscience at all right from the very start? May the pointing of fingers for the sake of coming out clean by the entities involved will not cloud the thing that really matters as of the moment: JUSTICE.

Just Some Random Thoughts

After a month of hiatus, I'm back at last in my blog. I've been very busy with mixed stuffs lately that I finally missed writing. Anyway, I'm glad that I have found at last a time to squeeze in blogging although I have no idea what am I going to write in this entry.

Just this afternoon by the way, I had a haircut session with an anonymous barber in our town. It dawned upon me yesterday while looking at the mirror that sporting a long hair doesn't fit me because instead of looking like those male stars in Korean soap operas, I looked more like of a crossbreed between a horse and a caveman. I'm back in my old hairstyle, that is clean barber's cut, and I feel so refreshed. The cutting of my almost-long mane was also a form of cost-cutting since from now on I don't have to use anymore a plenty amount of shampoo just to make my crown clean. A sachette of shampoo nowadays costs P 6.00, hygiene has become expensive.

And because everything has become expensive, I need to find a job. That's is why I applied in a call center company just yesterday to have a job while waiting for the time for me to take the board exam for nurses. Done with my preliminary interview and I do hope that I will pass and move on to the final. Good luck to me!

Speaking of luck, Charice was very lucky to be cast on the American hit (and now a worldwide phenomenon) tv show called Glee. I'm a big fan of the show, simply because I love music, that I just can't get enough of it. And watching our very own kababayan Charice in the future episodes of the show will surely give me goosebumps. In connection with Glee, a male friend of mine commented once that guys watching Glee are gays. I just couldn't help but laugh at such narrow-mindedness. If television shows are made just to cater or entertain a certain group of people then the result would be these: The Biggest Loser for obese people, Grey's Anatomy for lustful surgeons, Big Brother for voyeurs, Desperate Housewives for, well, desperate housewives, UFC for troublemakers, Nurse Jackie for addict nurses, Mercy for bitch nurses, Cribs for the akyat-bahay gang (i.e. thieves), Beverly Hills 90210 for promiscuous teenagers, Ghost Whisperer for schizophrenic people suffering with hallucinations, Vampire Diaries for vampire bats (since vampires don't really exist in real life), Smallville for those who have a delusion of grandeur (thinking that they are some sort of superheroes), and yes, Agua Bendita for those suffering from water-borne diseases, dehydration, and water intoxication. My point is, enough of the discrimination and bigotry. Lets just enjoy the show.

'Til next post.

My Dream Room

The comfort room is also my dream room. Yes, you heard it right, my dream room. No, I don't sleep there 'cause that will make me look stupid than I already am although I'm the type of guy who can take a nap anywhere --- in jeepnies while commuting, in theaters when I find the movie boring, in front of my professor way back in college (the complexity of the lesson and his monotonous voice were like Valium), and even in restaurants when my orders take too long to arrive. Back to what I have said earlier, I never sleep in the comfort room because aside from the fact that I know what it is obviously for, my fantasies erupt every time I'm in there which activates my neurons into their state of creativity. I have no concrete explanation about this "phenomenon" but all I know is that every time I sit on the "glorious throne" (the toilet bowl that is), my daydreaming activity automatically begins that not even my valsalva maneuver could interrupt it. It's like being transported into another place, time, and reality. That's why I call it, aside from its original name, the dream room.

-oOo-

According to Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, each of us, upon fulfilling our physiological, security, and social needs, must see to it that the next level of need which deals on esteem will be addressed. Since I have already fulfilled the basic three in the hierarchy (I think so... he he he), I am now trying to deal on how to increase my self-esteem which we often get through social recognition and accomplishments. This maybe the reason why I often daydream of being a recipient of prestigious awards when I'm inside my dream room. Oscar, Grammy, Tony, Train, Golden Globe, Emmy, Nobel, Pulitzer, Ramon Magsaysay, Famas, Palanca, and so on. Name it, I have it! Of course upon receiving those trophies, usually a shampoo's bottle as my prop, there would be speeches. "Whew! I can't believe this (At this point I will give a quick glance at my trophy... or the bottle of shampoo to be exact, as if utterly surprised). First of all, I would like to thank God for the gift of life and for all the blessings he has bestowed upon me. Then to my mom for all your love, patience, and sacrifices of raising us your sons. You are my inspiration. Thank you too to all my brothers. Your love and support guys have brought me this far. To my producers, writers, director and the rest of the technical staff, thank you very much guys for giving me this break. This is the fruit of our labors! To the academy, thank you for recognizing my talent and for believing in me, you are all amazing. To my fellow Filipinos, I dedicate this award to all of you, we did it again! Mabuhay tayong lahat!" And then I had to cut my speech because the orchestra had already resumed playing. Ha ha ha...

-oOo-

Who wants to be a superhero? Well I do! Just imagine the things that you can do when you are a super powered being --- fly to the moon, teleport to Boracay, walk through the walls of China, read the mind of your crush, summon a typhoon when you feel like tired of going to work, and mop the floor of your house without even holding a mop but just by mere telekinesis. Totally awesome! And yes, I transform into a superhero every time I'm confined in my dream room, also known as the Chamber of Metamorphosis! No, I don't turn into Superman, Spiderman, the Green Lantern, Batman, Wolverine, or Cyclops. Definitely not Wonderwoman or Storm either. My philosophy is against imitations and copycats. I just simply transformed into my alter ego, none other than....... the invincible SUPER JIM! Tadaaaah!!! The superhero who has the power of all known superheroes combined! Beat that! Ha ha ha... As of now I am still making up my mind whether I should sign a contract as a mainstay character of Marvel or DC and whether I should join a group or just go solo. Hmmm... Being a superhero is indeed not that easy. One more thing, let us just keep my real identity a secret, okay? I don't want paparazzi to stalk yours truly, I still want my privacy.

-oOo-

A fiery and idealistic politician sometimes I become in my magical dream room. This usually happens when the whole country's attention is suddenly diverted to big political issues such as graft and corruption, coup and mutiny, involvement of our government leaders in various scandals, and as ever, the big poverty problem. I get easily affected with these issues that, again, sitting in my "glorious throne", I often visualize myself sitting in the middle of a very long oak table, wearing an exquisite barong tagalog, and conducting meeting with my cabinet officials. I will then proceed into an episode in which I will get mad with all their inefficiencies and lack of sense of responsibility and concern. I will then come up with solutions that will alleviate this country from destitution. Time magazine will feature me as the President Who Save The Philippnes. Whew! Tsk tsk tsk... This is what watching the daily news has brought me.

-oOo-

I love my dream room. I can be whatever I want when I'm inside it. Sometimes a famous athlete, an adored rockstar, an A-List actor, a sought-after model, a revered writer, an idolized philanthropist, an immortal seductive vampire, or a sly detective. Anything and everything! Nothing is impossible. The four walls of the small room seem to stretch to contain the vast imagination of my mind. Magical. That's why I see to it that it is clean and deodorized every day.

Call it a delusion of grandeur. Call it insanity. I don't care. All I know is that my dream room serves as place for me to escape temporarily from reality. Sometimes, we do need a break from life's harshness and indifference. Isn't it?

So, wanna join me in my dream room?

Too Much Love Can Kill A Mockingbird

Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird is I think one of the best coming-of-age novel ever written so far, joining the ranks (in my opinion) of Jane Eyre, Great Expectations, and Tom Sawyer. In fact, it is one of my few personal favorites because it reaffirmed my love for reading and even for writing. I finished rereading To Kill A Mockingbird just today for I don't know how many times already, maybe more than my fingers could count 'cause I lost track of it, and the book still didn't failed to mesmerized me, to awaken the child inside me and to find some of the debris of my lost innocence.

I love the way Ms. Lee told the story. She used a child's perspective in the person of course of Scout. The innocence, candidness, honesty, humor, the little naughtiness and mystery in the way Scout recount her story resulted to pure enchantment that I could always catch myself grinning from time to time when I read it. As if the story was mine. So familiar and so true. I was like a child again every time I browse the pages of the book.

Another thing I love about the said novel was it's sheer simplicity and authenticity. The setting was just an ordinary town but the characters were so vivid and almost real that you might think they were just your next door neighbors. The plot too was carefully planned and paced that Ms. Lee was able to turned usual events and activities of daily living into something that is extraordinary and interesting. Most of all, what really bewitched me about the book are the lessons of friendship, the importance of humility and belief in one's principles, and the respect for human dignity.

-oOo-

What will you do for love? This is one of the few questions that really struck my mind 'til now after reading the novel aptly titled Love by the Nobel laureate Toni Morrison which I read every night before going to sleep during the last two weeks. Once again in this work, Ms. Morrison proved to her fans that she could still mesmerize and intrigue them with whatever topic she wants to stir in their minds and likewise to her critics that her flair for making social issues as an interesting subjects in her works has not yet waned.

In this book, Morrison's main characters, all of them black women (reminds me of her another work titled Paradise), were fighting over one man's love and attention. My interest was captured by the rivalry between Christine and Heed, both were former childhood best friends. The former was the granddaughter of Bill Cosey (the man who was the center of their fights) and the latter was the wife of her best friend's grandfather. Got it? The other characters, May (Bill's daughter-in-law and Christine's mom), Vida (Bill's former employee), L (Bill's loyal employee and confidant), Celestial (Bill's mistress?) and Junior (the correctional girl who was infatuated with Bill's portrait) were also in their own ways trying to get even just a chunk of the man's affection. But who would have thought that such love could brought some of them to their own demise? Who would have thought that such love could lead them to misery, loneliness, and isolation? Who would have thought that such love could be as powerful as hate that it slowly consumed them and made them turn against each other?

This book at the end gave me a somber realization. Our obsession about love, that is to love and be loved, often made us blind to the point of insanity. We tend to forget reasons and likewise to value other things that matter such as self-worth and respect, family and friendship. I really pity both Christine and Heed at the end. They ruined their precious friendship and wasted the time to mend it over a love that was never reciprocated. Too much of everything is indeed a bad thing. Too much love destroyed the two best friends. Too much love can kill a mockingbird.

Remembering Romeo In This Day For Fathers

My father was an enigma to me. He was like a stranger and a friend at the same time. When he meant business, acting as a responsible parent, he was like an authority of formidable and unbreakable power that it made me having a hard time penetrating the invisible walls he unknowingly built around him. His serious face, cold and inquisitive stare, firm voice, honest criticisms, and unwavering self-confidence often made my justifications futile and irrelevant. I hated him silently during those moments. It made the rebel in me plan for a coup d'tat which was never executed at all. My mutiny was unspoken.

My father was a strict disciplinarian. Maybe because he was a former teacher. Maybe because he was a soldier. Or simply maybe because it was innate in him to act properly according to the rules. He was a fan of Proverbs 13:24, so he didn't spare us the rod if the blunders we did call for it. But this belief of his didn't made me detest him to be honest. It was his way of making me feel guilty through his tactful words, very solemn and almost holy to the ears, that made me hate and love him at the same time. Inside my heart, those honest words he spilled during times he were mad felt like a white liquid suddenly boiled and exploded my young spirit to deflation.

The intensity of hatred I felt for my father was also as strong as the love I felt for him. I think these two often accompanies each other especially if the person whom you spend your affection and respect with is a person so complex, mysterious, incomprehensible and impenetrable. Unlike my mother who is so vocal with all her emotions and sentiments, my dad on the other hand was a quite man. He was for me a man whose personality was defined by the accuracy of his actions. He wasn't impulsive and I think, he always tried to be a gentleman in all his ways. That was the difficulty I encountered when I was still a kid. I couldn't read his mind with just his actions. Maybe my young mind was still feeble to possess such skill during that time. Calculating his every action was like deciphering hieroglyphics in my bedroom's wall. And that was what made him seem so distant from me, his being so contained and unpredictable.

Yet, there were also times when his coldness vanished and temporarily replaced by the fire of congeniality. Maybe those were the times when his paternal affection was overflowing and too consuming that it temporarily shattered the walls he built. These were the times when he would carefully combed my hair like that of Jose Rizal's style, filed my nails, created toy cars and kites out of indigenous materials for us my brothers to play on, sang for us while I and my brothers had our afternoon nap, cooked our favorite bukayo and fried banana, and patiently taught me my lessons in Mathematics and English. Those were the moments when it felt like he was the long lost friend I lost. The fragile man trapped inside his box of stone.

If there was one trait I really admired my father for, it was his ardent and undying devotion to my mother. His love for her was like a diamond polished by the friction of time. He adored her like a goddess and considered her as his bestfriend, his soul-mate. I think my mom was the only living soul in this planet whom he could honestly connect with. The woman whom he could bare his entire soul. Which really amused me thinking that they were very opposite from each other. My mom is a clanging bell, my father was a silent river. Yet they complimented each other.

Aside from the trait I mentioned above, I also admired my father for his unbending principles and his voracious appetite for knowledge. I think I got my love for reading from my father because every time I watch him reading whether a book or a newspaper, so absorbed and disconnected, he was like an ethereal creature. Flawed yet beautiful.

When I reached my 13th birthday, my father died. The event was too painful for me for a lot of reasons. First, I was too young to be the new head of the family. I was scared of the responsibilities waiting ahead. Second, the absence of my father was like being left in the open to be ravished by wolves. Naked, cold, and helpless. And most of all, there would be no more future opportunities of knowing him, of knowing the man whose past I supposed was lonely and sad. The man hardened by the tests of life. I always thought that I detested my father in the past simply because he was just indifferent and emotionless. But now that I am already reaching my thirty, I started to realize that I hated him way back because I am just like him. I desperately wanted to be like him. Now, I just smile whenever the old folks of my father's kindred say to me, "You are just like your father." I don't know why but those words really give me comfort.

To Romeo, may you continue to watch over us wherever you are. We miss you. Happy Fathers' Day Tatay.

The Karate Kid And His Kung Fu Master

Karate Kid - one of the movies in the 80s that really made me dream of becoming a martial arts blackbelter someday aside of course from the Jackie Chan flicks circulating during that decade which I really loved. Hiyaaaah!!! Now that I am already 29 years old, that dream remained just a childhood dream now stocked in the corner crevice of my mind although from time to time I still dust it off and reminisce upon it with inexplicable joy and amusement.

Who could ever forget (that is, if you're an 80s spawn) the "wax in, wax out" moves of Daniel as he was told by his teacher Mr. Miyagi to wax the old man's car? Which later when Daniel became eventually got tired of the routine chore, aside from the fact he was also told to sand wooden floors and paint fences, expressed his frustrations of learning nothing. But of course, Mr. Miyagi revealed later that what he was doing what actually teaching Daniel defensive blocks through muscle memory disguised in performing those aforementioned chores. Aha! Sensei knew what he was doing Daniel! The movie continued with Daniel's further (extensive) training with Mr. Miyagi and the bond he later forged with his master, so on and so forth.

The original Karate Kid was a big blockbuster that sequels followed --- Karate Kid Part II & III and the Next Karate Kid which starred one of my favorite actresses in the present, Hilary Swank. The movie likewise created a buzz on the pop culture that kids during my time wanted to enroll in karate lessons (like yours truly... He he he...).

Yesterday I was able to watch the remake of Karate Kid starring Jaden Smith (in place of Daniel) and Jackie Chan (in place of Mr. Miyagi). Like the original Karate Kid, the story of Dre (Jaden's character) was the story of coming-of-age, adapting to change, believing in one's self, and the powerful bond that unites two people which is friendship. Although the remake's themes were almost similar to that of the original, there were also a big difference that made the recent version, well, controversial and confusing. That difference was the title of the movie itself. You see, in the current version, Mr. Han (the character played by Jackie and teacher of Dre) was teaching Dre kung fu techniques and not karate. If we are not familiar with the two fighting arts, we can say that they are just the same. But the truth is, there is a big difference with the two. Karate employs linear and crisp movements while kung fu movements are circular and fluid, a mimicry of animal movements. Although both have philosophical and spiritual significance to the people who developed them over the years, they have different origins. Karate is from Japan while kung fu is from China.

Therefore, although I really loved Dre (and a new convert fan of Jaden, Will must be proud of his boy), I strongly disagree with the producers' decision of making the remake's title the same as that of the original. It should be Kung Fu Kid not Karate Kid, just to be politically correct and likewise to avoid confusion. Tsk tsk tsk... Kung Fu Panda is fuming!

I Want To Break Free

I want to break free from my insecurity of having a prominent and vast forehead. Especially in times when it becomes so shiny that it "glows in the dark". From now on, I'll just think of my forehead as the "shining beacon of hope" to all humanity. LOL...

I want to break free from the thought that Armageddon is fast approaching. Chaos is the natural order of life and adaptation is the key to survival, that, I will always put in mind.

I want to break free from all the chain messages entering my cellphone like "Jesus luvs u. Pls pass dis to 20 pipol u know. Dnt ignore or u will have 20 days of bad luck." Duh! Messages like this are pure crap. God is not that shallow that he will give you bad luck just because you haven't forwarded a message to 20 people. Messages like this really boils my blood. So stop sending me one.

I want to break free from my disgust of watching Pinoy teleseryes because I'm starting to get hooked with Rubi! What is the matter with me? Does this mean that my taste for entertainment is starting to get low? Ummm... I don't think so. This is just a confirmation that I am indeed a pure-blooded Pinoy. Aside of course from my love for texting.

I want to break free from being a hopeless romantic dude. I am not Romeo because I know I will never have the courage to end my life just for love. Neither I am not a knight-in-a-shining-armor 'cause I don't even know how to ride a horse! Ha ha ha...

I want to break free from coffee addiction. God, my hands sweat like a river when I get excited even with little things (nervous reaction). And God, my sweat smells like coffee!

I want to break free from worrying what will I look like when I reach my fifties. Worries exaggerate wrinkles. He he he...

I want to break free from my fear of heights (acrophobia). I can't be like this when the time comes that I have to climb the Eiffel Tower. =)

I want to break free from the thought that the world is already crammed with nurses..... Only the Philippines! Ha ha ha...

I want to break free from the idea of dominating the entire world and making all humanities my minions someday. I don't wanna be like Alexander who became frustrated when there was nothing left to conquer for his empire because obviously, this world is getting smaller.

I want to break free from ranting too much. It gives me headache. Gotta get a tablet of paracetamol. Bye!

And oh by the way, HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY! MABUHAY ANG PILIPINAS!