Cathartic

Avenue Q Manila

Mon, 24 Sep 2007 13:03:19 GMT

In spite of a major exam the next day, I decided to push through with watching Avenue Q: The Musical yesterday. After all, I had already paid up a thousand bucks and was feeling depressed-deprived, so I went. (Nevertheless I was perusing handouts on the way to the theatre and back, as well as the intermission...winner!)

I have fond memories of the show. Last summer of 2006, Jampao and I were rustling around New York in between concerts for Bukas Palad's US Tour. We wanted to watch a musical, but that evening was part of Easter weekend so we eventually ended up losing at manifold chance-ticket-lotteries for Wicked, Hairspray, and The 29th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. By the time we got outside the Avenue Q box office, it was closed as well; but stupendous luck came our way when a man came in and sold us his two orchestra center tickets (which he had reserved months in advance) as his wife suddenly had the ill luck to get sick. Our tickets cost us $100 each, but it was oh-so worth it, and we left the theatre all smiles. (We also saw Julia Roberts leave the stage door of her show which was playing next door, which is why I will always think of NY as the place where all fantasies come true.)

I was curious to see how well the musical would fare with a Filipino cast and audience, given its quintessential American-ness. For even while watching and later listening to the soundtrack, I'd always felt that much of the humor emanated from very local issues like race relations or the fleeting fame of Gary Coleman (who the hell is he anyway?), so I wasn't really expecting much. How these were handled, particularly by cast , was a very pleasant surprise though. Aiza Seguerra mastered a very difficult homie-niggah accent to play the aforementioned former-fellow child star. Noel Trinidad and Frenchie Dy managed to inject their own brand of humor into their respective roles (as Rod/Trekkie Monster and Christmas Eve). And Rachel Alejandro was a delight, giving a very sensitive and tight portrayal of Kate Monster, vis a vis her bombshell second role as Lucy the Slut.

As for the material, they were completely faithful to the libretto, which I think was a good thing, given how easily Pinoy-style adaptations can corrupt the intent of a foreign work. Never mind the what-did-that-mean jokes inherent in a lot of the lines (ie. Watchoutalkinbout Willis?!), which the cast was able to downplay.; the beauty of Avenue Q Manila is that it was able to transcend these and get to the heart of what made the play a Tony winner, and transmit it to the audience. Because in the midst of laughing over how the internet is for porn and how it sucks to be them, we realize that we aren't really laughing at them and their issues, but ultimately at ourselves and the tragedy of growing up in this (as the philosopher Gabriel Marcel coins) broken world: of the various pathos of coping with loves that must always be unspoken and unrequited, toiling day-after-day in the purposeless, monotonous, and unrewarding world-of-work, and conforming to societal expectations thereby holding back the development of a genuine, authentic self.

Ultimately, what makes Avenue Q well-worth precious time and money is that for two blessed hours, it takes you away from the cares and worries of Real Life, and afterward sends you out with the strength and courage to further engage it.

What I Miss

Sat, 22 Sep 2007 16:25:53 GMT

(because of Med)

going out on spontaneous gimmicks on weekends
sleep- all eight hours or more
singing with Bukas Palad
watching TV series on DVD one after the other
going to Metrowalk to buy DVDs
relaxation
my old cubicle at the English Department
weekday afternoon gimmicks
poetry
quiet and personal space during midday
lecturing on essay and research writing
Hong Kong
consultations with students
a paycheck at the middle and end of every month
getting good grades
lunch conversations with fellow teachers
a morning or afternoon of doing simply nothing
reading non-medical books
New York
borrowing Lit books from the Rizal Library
self-assurance
going to Kinema prac without handouts to read
balance
my non-med friends
late nights up (not studying)
going to ADMU faculty fora
driving around by myself
psychology

my old life.

A Fan Once More

Sun, 09 Sep 2007 02:02:21 GMT

This Friday I was finally able to get my hands on a copy of Bukas Palad's latest album, Hindi Kita Malilimutan. Ever since I helped out at the launch, I've been raring to listen to the songs, especially since I was unfamiliar with a lot of them. (That you'll see me listed as part of the chorus is actually a fluke since I was only able to actually record one song, since teaching and eventually pursuing medicine, forced me to realign my priorities.)

To say that it couldn't have come at a better time is an understatement because I write this in a time where it seems the limits of my endurance are being stretched to the max. Whereas a month ago I thought I was already having a difficult time adjusting to med school life, the advent of Gross (as in kadiri) Anatomy and other hard sciences (in which my preferential option for linguistic and analytic skills are useless in the face of brute memory-work) has made me realize that back then was practically vacation. That I am actually faced with the prospect of failing (if you don't believe me, ask about my first lab test) from the 4.0's I used to get in college seems to have unhinged me. My sleep time is reduced to little over half the time I used to get in college (even on weekends) and my new definition of gimik is a study session with classmates or friends at Bo's Katipunan or Starbucks Temple Drive. I also miss my non-med friends and feel sort of guilty as well, because even if I still see them (since I still sing with them in Kinema) I'm not much fun since lull moments have to be used for rereading notes or practicing bone and muscle recognition with my McMinn's Atlas of Human Anatomy. Moreover, I have the feeling that I am not on top of my emotions and actions, expending a lot of energy trying to stop myself (sometimes unsuccessfully) from having childish tantrums from the littlest things, such as when my mom suddenly decided to schedule a Friday night family dinner or when I realized that I lost my set of readings and transcription notes out of mindlessness. There are times that I feel I need to cry for no special reason except to release all the energy building up in my system. To make a long exposition short, life's not easy right now.

In any case, listening to the songs (while studying, by the way), has at least allowed for some moments to allow myself to be overcome by emotion and release all the tension that has slowly been building up inside me. There are songs in particular which speak to me and the many moments of present life- being overburdened, tired, and sometimes, lonely as well. That their messages do not just emphatize (in terms of universalized human experience) but reassure me that (to steal some lyrics) in this restless world there will come a time for healing and mending, thanks to someone who is constantly at my side, never forgets, and whose love, without which everything is useless, endures forevermore. (6 songs yan, count' em!) And for all this I go back to being Bukas Palad's biggest fan, giving thanks for that beautiful sound and that who inspires it.

Perchance to dream

Tue, 17 Jul 2007 14:06:21 GMT

(I' ve decided I wanna force myself to write about something whenever I have the time, however inane it may be. Anyway)

Today is the second day of actually getting into the real meat of medicine proper (the hard sciences). I’m worried however, because I noticed that I’m developing a scary tendency to fall asleep in the middle of lectures. For despite valiant efforts to keep myself awake: Extra Joss, eating sour fruit and walnuts, and pinching the underside of my arm, I still managed to zonk out during the lecture on Carbohydrates in the morning and Proteins in the afternoon. Not to mention Cellular Structures yesterday, despite a very erudite and awe-inspiring lecturer. This is particularly jarring since I have always considered myself as academically conscientious, and yes, successful, so this kind of behavior really seems to be setting me up for a fall Several possible reasons present themselves but ultimately it's a matter of adjustment. From the Ateneo undergraduate system where I used to sit in classes around 3-4 hours a day to a whopping 8-hour stretch. From fun stuff like Philosophy and the Social Sciences to the dreary dudgeon of cold hard Science. From being a teacher and having charge of the classroom to being a student at the mercy of one's professor. From 8-9 to 5.5-6 hours of sleep.

I know that I'm going to get the hang of it eventually, but since time is of the essence, my body had better learn to get with the program fast.

Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix

Fri, 13 Jul 2007 17:36:03 GMT

It won it!

Eezy

Mon, 25 Jun 2007 07:14:26 GMT

Muntik akong makasagasa ng tao kanina. Sa Ateneo. University Road. Tapat ng Cornfield.

Daldal kasi ng daldal. Di tumitingin sa daan.

Ayan tuloy.

Summer Reading

Thu, 21 Jun 2007 14:14:46 GMT

This last summer of freedom has sort of pressured me into trying to read as much books as I can (books here defined as non-medical texts, which I am sure I will have to peruse and internalize until their content is literally bursting out of my ears). And while I may not have reached Jessica Zafra's quota of a book for week, I guess I'd have to say I'm pretty pleased with my haul:

The Romanov Prophecy by Steve Berry
Offers a new insight (or probably rehashed conspiracy theories) on the fate of Anastasia & Co. Very entertaining. Dan Brown with more weight and substance.

On Love by Zadie Smith
A tale of 2 families, both rooted in academia but polar opposites in terms of artistic ideology as well as family and racial dynamics. It's supposedly offers deep insights into the new ways families and people relate to each other. But I guess you'd have to be from a Western context to fully appreciate what this novel has to offer.

The Third Secret by Steve Berry
Berry's foray into the secrets of the Fatima prophecies. This book is more suspiciously reminiscent of Brown's Angels and Demons, being set in the halls of Vatican piety and intrigue, but less annoying.

The Romantic Movement by Alain de Botton
Part-fiction, part-essay- contains reflections on each stage of falling love based on a fictional heroine, Alice. Very wry and sardonic, as well as very intelligent musings that can only come from an interdisciplinarian like de Botton.

Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marisha Pessl
In terms of the story, this follows a typical atypical plot twister following the daughter of a brilliant genius, and his father the brilliant genius. Part-coming-of-age tale and part-mystery, the book's real strength is how Pessl takes language to new twists and turns. Good exercise for the mind.

Wicked! by Jilly Cooper
My book of choice for the summer, not to be confused with Maguire's classic (which inspired the Broadway musical), this delves into Britain's secondary school system. In true Cooper style, this contains an ensemble cast of hundreds, seamless shifts to numerous points-of-view (quite unique for a novel nowadays), and endless high-jinks. So breathtaking, I had to look up the rest!

Appassionata by Jilly Cooper
This time follows the travails of a symphony orchestra in England. More of the trademark stuff above- this book is so entertaining I read 900 pages in 2 days.

Pandora by Jilly Cooper
This one follows the world of visual arts and painting galleries. Less grandiose in proportion (focuses on a particular family, the Belvedons) but no less pleasurable

Trick of the Eye by Jane Stanton Hitchcock
Psychological suspense and murder mystery, engaging enough, but I liked Hitchcock's Social Crimes better.

Twisted Travels by Jessica Zafra
Z's latest in her Twisted series. Spans Asia, Europe, and the United States. The only nonfiction book in my list but reading her is half-about-the-place and half-about-her-in-the-place so it's strong in narrative. Thanks to the clarity of her pen, reading her is effortless. Only beef is that it's really thin and set in a big typeface so I read it in about two sittings. Oh well, nothing wrong with easy money.

Chapel Noir by Carole Nelson Douglas
An unexpected addition to her Irene (the woman sleuth who is the only one to ever outwit Sherlock Holmes) series, this follows an investigation into Jack the Ripper-like murders being commited in Paris at the centenary of its Revolution. It strives and succeeds at being atmospheric and reminiscent of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but I fear at the expense of pacing. Still good, though.

There! Haha apparently I've read more than I thought. Too bad I won't have time in July to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows. Or will I be powerless to resist?!

Dance till you're dizzy

Thu, 21 Jun 2007 11:28:53 GMT

I've never been a fan of exercise. Sure, for the past four years I've made many attempts to begin a regular exercise program at the gym. But inevitably, a few weeks, or if I'm especially motivated a month hence, my usual propensity for physical idleness reexerts itself and I'm back on the couch watching pirated DVDs or hiding behind the convenient excuse of too much work.

But recently, thankfully, all this changed as I discovered a propensity for dance. Not professionally, or even on the level of CADS, but simply going to regular dance-cercise programs at Fitness First. I'd already been a member of this particular health club for a few weeks after switching allegiances from Moro, but the usual grind of cardio-weight machines had begun to bore me again. Thankfully, Anj invited me to join him in one of the morning classes at the Block branch. From then on, I was hooked.

I'd always enjoyed the opportunity to shake that groove thing whenever he had such numbers back when I was a member of Dulaang Sibol, and recently in concerts with Kinema and Bukas Palad. The few times I've been able to go clubbing with friends were also chances for these, but sadly they've been few and far between. I've been fortunate to have many outlet for my passion for making music thanks to my choirs, but it's a different (not necessarily better, just unique) experience to actually move one's body to music. FF BodyJam and occassionally, RetroGroove classes have given me the opportunity to indulge in this on a daily basis- and I mean daily. Particularly in this transition period while I await the opening of school and all my friends are basically busy with their own lives, these sessions have become the highlight of my days, and it's come to the point where I usually do a back-to-back with BodyCombat (a combination tae-bo-martial-arts-fitness class), BodyPump (weights but done as a group), and whatever interesting class is happening that day.

I really don't have any particular reason why I want to write about this, except maybe it's the endorphins acting up as I take a breather after my 5:30 Jam class in FF Eastwood. But looks like I've gotta cut this short. It's 7:30 and RetroGroove awaits!

Ngwerk

Wed, 13 Jun 2007 16:03:34 GMT

Postponed ang class opening namin from June 18 to June 2.

While this does mean extra time for vacation, and reduces the hassle of first-month-of-classes traffic in the Metro, I'm frustrated since I've been mentally preparing myself for this day. It doesn't help that the announcement comes so late in the day. Hay, one more reason for my parents to harp on about the wisdom of going to UST.

At least it's less likely that I get killed by some piece of falling debris going to school. Pero hassle pa rin!

My Person, Dissected

Thu, 07 Jun 2007 17:30:58 GMT

Amazing how this MBTI-type description fits me like a glove. (I=introverted, N=intuitive, F=feeling, J=judging) :

As an INFJ, your primary mode of living is focused internally, where you take things in primarily via intuition. Your secondary mode is external, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them, or how they fit with your personal value system.

INFJs are gentle, caring, complex and highly intuitive individuals. Artistic and creative, they live in a world of hidden meanings and possibilities. Only one percent of the population has an INFJ Personality Type, making it the most rare of all the types.

INFJs place great importance on havings things orderly and systematic in their outer world. They put a lot of energy into identifying the best system for getting things done, and constantly define and re-define the priorities in their lives. On the other hand, INFJs operate within themselves on an intuitive basis which is entirely spontaneous. They know things intuitively, without being able to pinpoint why, and without detailed knowledge of the subject at hand. They are usually right, and they usually know it. Consequently, INFJs put a tremendous amount of faith into their instincts and intuitions. This is something of a conflict between the inner and outer worlds, and may result in the INFJ not being as organized as other Judging types tend to be. Or we may see some signs of disarray in an otherwise orderly tendency, such as a consistently messy desk.

INFJs have uncanny insight into people and situations. They get "feelings" about things and intuitively understand them. As an extreme example, some INFJs report experiences of a psychic nature, such as getting strong feelings about there being a problem with a loved one, and discovering later that they were in a car accident. This is the sort of thing that other types may scorn and scoff at, and the INFJ themself does not really understand their intuition at a level which can be verbalized. Consequently, most INFJs are protective of their inner selves, sharing only what they choose to share when they choose to share it. They are deep, complex individuals, who are quite private and typically difficult to understand. INFJs hold back part of themselves, and can be secretive.

But the INFJ is as genuinely warm as they are complex. INFJs hold a special place in the heart of people who they are close to, who are able to see their special gifts and depth of caring. INFJs are concerned for people's feelings, and try to be gentle to avoid hurting anyone. They are very sensitive to conflict, and cannot tolerate it very well. Situations which are charged with conflict may drive the normally peaceful INFJ into a state of agitation or charged anger. They may tend to internalize conflict into their bodies, and experience health problems when under a lot of stress.

Because the INFJ has such strong intuitive capabilities, they trust their own instincts above all else. This may result in an INFJ stubborness and tendency to ignore other people's opinions. They believe that they're right. On the other hand, INFJ is a perfectionist who doubts that they are living up to their full potential. INFJs are rarely at complete peace with themselves - there's always something else they should be doing to improve themselves and the world around them. They believe in constant growth, and don't often take time to revel in their accomplishments. They have strong value systems, and need to live their lives in accordance with what they feel is right. In deference to the Feeling aspect of their personalities, INFJs are in some ways gentle and easy going. Conversely, they have very high expectations of themselves, and frequently of their families. They don't believe in compromising their ideals.

INFJ is a natural nurturer; patient, devoted and protective. They make loving parents and usually have strong bonds with their offspring. They have high expectations of their children, and push them to be the best that they can be. This can sometimes manifest itself in the INFJ being hard-nosed and stubborn. But generally, children of an INFJ get devoted and sincere parental guidance, combined with deep caring.

In the workplace, the INFJ usually shows up in areas where they can be creative and somewhat independent. They have a natural affinity for art, and many excel in the sciences, where they make use of their intuition. INFJs can also be found in service-oriented professions. They are not good at dealing with minutia or very detailed tasks. The INFJ will either avoid such things, or else go to the other extreme and become enveloped in the details to the extent that they can no longer see the big picture. An INFJ who has gone the route of becoming meticulous about details may be highly critical of other individuals who are not.

The INFJ individual is gifted in ways that other types are not. Life is not necessarily easy for the INFJ, but they are capable of great depth of feeling and personal achievement.

(Whatta clincher!)

Political Daydreams

Thu, 17 May 2007 04:15:11 GMT

No coherence here:

Last Monday I exercised my civil right to suffrage. The process for me, was relatively hassle free. Thankfully our precinct was the Ayala Heights clubhouse, which made for less crowds and less delay. I easily found my name on the voter's list and quickly copied off my pre-prepared list. Then I went over and got the de-rigeur accessory for the season- an indelibly purple index finger.

My vote counted for seven this year. The list I drew up made its way to our househelp, my famille in Cabanatuan, and even in Cebu! (haha kim) That's political clout. Nyahaha.

For Congressman of my district (3rd QC), I voted for my former English Department colleague and LGBT advocate Danton Remoto. After successively being disqualified by the Comelec for Party List (Ang Ladlad was staunchly anti-GMA, 'nuff said) and Senator, he was forced instead to run against the giant political machinery of Mat Defensor, 'Tol Mike Defensor's daddy who naturally has oodles of money to "obtain" votes. I honestly doubt that he'll win, but one can only go too far with pragmatism. In the same spirit I voted for te Ang Kapatiran senatoriables, who obviously had no chance of winning. Ah well, heere's to quixotic visions for a new country!

I hope to God Fr. Ed Panlilio wins in Pampanga. But with a jueteng lord and a wannabe-actor using all of their dirty tricks to cut off the people's true wishes, I'm not sure. Arses.

Looks like all the actors who ran for office are bound to go home with their tails in between their legs. No actor senators this year. So bye-bye Goma, Montano, and Sotto. (The only actor whom I was rooting for this election was Mayor Vi, who in fairness has proven her worth as a public servant.) Thank God the Filipino people are getting smarter!

A Long Stretch of Empty

Wed, 09 May 2007 16:33:21 GMT

Having been done with my a big part of my out-of-town trips for this summer (Hong Kong, Boracay, and Tagaytay), I have nothing to do but laze around in utter idleness. Of course, there's Kinema and recently, Bukas Palad in the evenings but basically my days comprise a long stretch of idleness that needs to be filled. Therefore, for most of it I've been watching DVD's notably the entire five seasons of Ally McBeal (a hearkening back to high school days).

People who I know have to work from 8-5 everyday will say I don't know how lucky I am to have all this free time. While that is true, I guess I'm not constitutionally fit to wallow in immobility. For one, the couch potato lifestyle has led my waistline to continuously expand, and thus everyone (as in everyone) I see after a long absence gets to greet me with an "Ay, tumaba ka." (And what can one respond with in the face of such truth?)

But I guess what's annoying about this state is that I get a large part of my 'highs' from being productive. When there's a lot of work to be done, I complain a lot (especially when it's academic in nature) but I guess nothing beats the rush out of accomplishing something that's difficult to pull off.

That's nice to know. Until of course when med school begins and I take it all back. Hail to the holidays!

A Hard Dose Of

Sun, 06 May 2007 22:09:51 GMT

It was Tito James's funeral yesterday. The close of an entire week of mourning and celebrating a very good man. It was a Chinese funeral and so I experienced some customs for the first time, such as pinning two slips of red and white ribbon on our breast pockets. When we reached the crematorium, we were asked to remove the white but keep the red. A friend asked the reason for the custom and I didn't know an explanation so I offered an off-the-cuff explanation that maybe it had to do with ending the mourning (white being the traditional color for funerals) and continuing with life (red, if I remember, being used for celebrations like birthdays). And while I am likely to be ignorant and mistaken about its actual significance, I guess my explanation is symbolic enough for our experience of returning back to our normal lives.

For those who just attended the funeral but didn't really know Tito, I suppose it is a simple matter of just returning to whatever errands need to be done. And perhaps for us who did have the privilege of knowing him better, memory will still linger, but we will also have to pick up where we left off. And (pardon me for my intrusion into an experience I have not undergone and therefore cannot fully fathom) for those in whose lives Tito James played an integral part, Boyet, Bernice, Bryan, Tita Domet, there will also be that same necessity towards normality, but that I believe, is what will hurt the most. W.H Auden's "Musee de Beaux Artes" evokes this very well:

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the plowman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

The fact that life goes on when you wish it wouldn't may be the most difficult trial of all.

Speak No Evil

Wed, 02 May 2007 18:51:30 GMT

After dinner with Kinema some of us (JC, Ernest, KenD, and Peter) went over to Legs's house for some sort of informal inuman. Having no need for alcohol to talk of insipid secrets and dares, our conversation drifted to a more serious turn as we discussed a particularly troublesome situation that has been bugging us for quite some time. Without getting into dangerous specifics, suffice it to say that we have been on the receiving end of some unpleasant accusations regarding our actions and character. In any court of law, these would be summarily dismissed and thrown out by any jury, however the arena of the real world makes no distinctions for justice and instead feeds on its own frenzy. After all, what can one do against bile and bigotry?

To be sure, for many months we have striven to maintain a quiet dignity. And yet despite the fact that this does save us from sullying our hands with the all the mud slung at our way, the dirt has done its damage, akin to a malignant tumor taking a life of its own. Of course the Bible says one must "turn the other cheek", but I guess this has to be balanced by Edmund Burke's pronouncement that "all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." Thus I wonder frustrated whether our silence actually has more to do with dignified comportment than mere fear of conflict and confrontation.

Questions, questions.

Gone Too Soon

Mon, 30 Apr 2007 15:56:14 GMT

Today’s agenda was basically a wedding and a wake. Kinema was the choir for the nuptials at Sanctuario de San Antonio at 3 pm. Like many weddings it lasted for 48 years (in actual terms around 2 hours), but then it was a good way to earn money (not for myself, sadly). Afterwards since it was in the same venue, we as a group, visited the wake of Tito James Atienza, who had succumbed last Friday to multiple organ failure after a battle with pancreatitis. I had only just returned from a 3-day workshop for Ateneo Med in Tagaytay on Friday when I learned just how serious his condition was. That night I went to visit, and although he was still in the ICU, I went home heartened by the news that the crisis of the previous night had been averted. Saturday morning I breathed a further sign of relief as I read a promising text message from Berns stating that he was stable and that we should continue to pray. But all that hope evaporated when I received a terse message from Boyet that Tito James had passed on. Afterwards, I ran to my mom’s room to break the news. She had just woken up but the news sent her into a paroxysm of anguish and denial. The memory that will indelibly be marked in my mind is that of her and myself both seated on the floor, hugging each other and crying at the fulfillment of a danger that we had hoped would never dare pass.

I remember a scene in Ally McBeal where she speaks at a funeral and begins with the observation of how in such events, the honoree is always described as a good man, the only difference in this particular case was that it was really true. So it is for Tito James. In fact, he was one of the best. My personal experience of him started way back in high school when I was a member of Dulaang Sibol. As semi-official sensei in technical and electronic matters as well as Mr. Pagsi’s designated-Kapatid, he was one of the few parents who were actually welcomed by our near-exclusive circle of youth to drop by anytime. In fact, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that at a certain point in time he was actually more often present there than some of the other members. This status though, he did not achieve by flash and dash, but by self-effacing fatherliness that we immediately warmed up to. Most eulogies of him will at some point refer to his ear-to-ear smile and for good reason. It made you feel really good and want to smile back. Moreover, Tito James was humility personified in that unlike any other dad he was willing to take a lot of time to help a bunch of his kids’ friends with their work, be it with Sibol or later on, even in Kinema.

Part of the reason why I mourn Tito James’s death terribly is the fact that I am intricately connected with his family. Both of his children are very good friends; Bryan is a co-Sibolista and Kinema member while Bernice is a batchmate and confidante. Tita Domet, meanwhile, is a favorite among my many titas and is very tight with my mom as well. To an outsider, their family was picture-perfect and for someone like me who had the privilege of witnessing them up close, the surprise is that the description might be an exaggeration, but really not by much. They were exceptionally, unbelievably close and I can only begin to imagine how big a hole this has left in their lives. But throughout this they have been exceptionally strong, and I can only hope to display some of the courage and resilience I have witnessed from them should I find myself in a similar situation.

As for myself, there at times when I cannot grasp the entire idea of him going because it’s too big to comprehend. Tragic, heartbreaking, devastating; as hyperbolic as these words already are they cannot seem to encompass the full extent of what has happened. In some ways this has also led me to question the justice of the universe, and as difficult as it may be to admit it publicly, God’s ways. Theologically and philosophically I am aware of and in agreement with all the reasoning, but in the face of stark reality, the easiest conclusion one can get to is that the paths of life and death are ironically unfair, or at least disturbingly random and senseless. But in the face of such mysteries, I guess the only thing to do is to do what Tito James himself has done through the example of his life: have Faith.

Leaping Blindly

Sat, 28 Apr 2007 19:52:20 GMT

Choosing to be part of the first batch of the upcoming Ateneo School and Medicine and Public Health was no picnic for me. Many were skeptical, first and foremost my parents, who maintain a strong connection with one of the most established schools in the country and understandably wanted me to follow in their footsteps. Yet besides them, there were also comments from other well-meaning individuals as well as snide naysayers who offered sage advice about the dangers of being guinea pigs and the merits of going for the sure thing. And although I felt quite convinced by the unique promise of ASMPH (the dual Medicine-Management program, the multidisciplinary focus on health and its various determinants), I couldn’t help but be bothered by a nagging feeling of doubt that I might actually be making a mistake.

Thankfully, spending the past few days at Tagaytay for the premier batch’s TransSumm workshop was able to provide an answer to these fears. For three days and two nights, our seventy-strong batch went through an entire gamut of sessions designed to prepare us for the coming five years: body-mind connections, leadership, active listening, process observation analysis, and of course team-dynamics. One particularly interesting activity was one such where our 14-member group was asked to make a perfect rectangle with a very long piece of rope without the aid of any measuring devices. And to add to the fun, this seemingly unmanageable task was further compounded by the fact that we were all blindfolded! To be honest, I had no idea what we were about to do in the beginning, having been a relative dunce at geometry back in high school (plus, the fact that I couldn’t use my sight was no help at all). But thankfully our group leader was able to hit upon a certain idea that we should use one of our groupmates’ armspans as a measuring stick. With some creative algebra, this would enable us to work out how long each side of the rectangle should be. To handle the angles, four people of similar height were assigned to serve as corners and ensure that the angle made by the rope would be as close to ninety-degrees possible. It sounded logical, so we decided to try it out.

However, a part of me remained skeptical as I questioned the possibility of achieving perfection, given the difficulty of the conditions. I wasn’t sure if using my groupmate’s arms would actually result in a precise and accurate measurement. I wasn’t sure if the “corners” could actually ensure the right angles necessary for the task. I wasn’t sure that we would be able to get past the million things that could go wrong and ruin our chances of completing the task. And my role being nothing much except to hold on to the part of the rope that was deemed, by measurement, to be the second point or corner, all I could do was to hold on to that point in the rope for dear life under a blazing sun whose light I could not bear witness to and wait the near-endless moment.

But at the end of it, oh so sweet! When, after the painfully protracted process of untangling knots, measuring, setting out corners, adjusting, and double, triple, quadruple-checking was over, we took off our blindfolds and beheld a flawless rectangle that as our facilitator described, was the best amongst all the participating teams, I could not help but grin from ear to ear and thank my lucky stars that I had chosen to trust the plan, and focus on simply doing my best in the given task.

And so I believe it must be with this decision to enter Ateneo Med. Indeed there are many factors to be scared of in enrolling: the fact that the school has no track record in terms of medical education and board performance, the fact that construction of the school building only began a few months ago and is still currently underway, the fact that detailed information about important aspects like curriculum design and non-academic formation is still to be finalized and released, the fact that there are so many questions without definite answers. But then looking at it from the long view, there has to be a certain point in time where you really have to trust and let go of all the restraints and baggage which only hinder you from journeying unimpeded towards your intended direction in life. And I guess this is one such point where I cast all my doubts aside and just have faith that as long as I apply myself to the best of my abilities, the school which has cared for and molded me for seventeen years will not let me down.

And this I believe, is the most important lesson that I will take with me from the three days in Tagaytay. A realization that will sustain me throughout what I am sure will be a lot of moments of tired questioning in the coming year, which I have no doubt will be full of endless challenges, unprepared-for difficulties, and even insurmountable failures.

Trust. Risk. Fly. May this be the story of my life in the coming days ahead.

Breaking the Silence

Fri, 27 Apr 2007 15:44:42 GMT

When I decided to take on a part-time job lecturing English to college freshmen at the Ateneo de Manila University, one of the first casualties was my blogging. Ironic really, since I myself sold the concept of journaling to my students and even required them to keep one for the first semester. But then there were several reasons that lay behind the hiatus, first being that I felt that some level of privacy was necessary for competent acquittal of my job. Teaching, at least in my mind, has a certain prophetic dimension to it; therefore maintaining some level of ascendancy is important. And given that I was barely out of college, the last thing my students needed was distraction provided by my rather (as evidence of my past writings has shown) emotional keyboard. Moreover, since I was to teach formal writing, it was very intimidating to imagine how it would seem if some piece of particularly bad writing (and truly this medium lends itself to this pitfall) were to surface, leaving myself open to the charge of hypocrisy. Performance anxiety, I suppose, would be the most succinct term. Of course now from hindsight, these reasons seem to stem from an overly anxious and insecure mind, but given the responsibility attached to the circumstances, I am at peace with having played it safe.

But that year, short and sweet as it was, has come and gone. And now, having undergone several more loops of the emotional rollercoaster that is my life, I find that I miss, nay not just miss, that I need this activity. To blow off steam primarily, and lessen the burden on several long-suffering friends who I have noticed find themselves constantly on the receiving end of my whiny tirades. To keep in touch also, hopefully, with others whom circumstances have forced us to disperse various corners of the globe. (I must confess that I am terrible at doing this.) And most importantly, to recuperate the various personas I have found that have arisen with every role that I have played in my life- a practice I have found to be crucial in order to function properly in the world but also one which I have begun to realize as rather dangerous to the evolution of a fully-realized, integrated self. (Thankfully the nuanced posting options of livejournal will allow me to maintain discretion with regard to more sensitive issues- so add me up friends!)

Thus does this entry end, even as I once more, begin anew.

back to some classic greek mythology

Wed, 21 Feb 2007 19:06:30 GMT

Pallas Athene, to Paris of Troy

As for myself, I had long been content with Knowledge

of my divinity. Until that accursed moment you offered

to serve another altar, and awakened in me an Awareness

of my natural inadequacy. That what I benevolently offered would,

could never measure up. For how could Erudition

ever hope to compete with allure? Certainly not with you,

whose fiery evanescent passions negated all semblance of Thought

and ultimately razed an empire to the ground, trampled underneath

the hooves of a wooden stallion. No matter. My Guidance,

I have already offered to another more deserving. To overcome

sirens and cyclopes, I shall bless him with Cunning

and with my own arrows, strike down his enemies

that he may fly to Ithaca, and once more gain an Understanding

of his wife’s possessive embrace. Even as I, once again, ascend alone

to Olympus, morosely wondering how this pinnacle of Wisdom

could, in matters of the heart, continue to act the Fool.

Happy Valentine's Day

Tue, 13 Feb 2007 17:33:14 GMT

(poem in progress)

In the End

It is never easy

This process

Of realizing that the dwelling you

Painstakingly

Meticulously

Sought to build upon rock

Unyielding

Adamantine

(For the parable warns against

A foundation of sand)

Has yet
Once again
Turned out to be

A castle-of-cloud

Complete with

Soaring turrets

And magnificent halls

Fashioned out of empty air

Particularly

When all you wanted

Was a tiny hearth

To warm your heart by