These are some of my could-have-been blog entries; some are from way, way back, some from the not so distant past, and I just couldn’t finish any of these. Maybe I lost my thread of thought or I couldn’t write in a more satisfactory way, so these languished in the drafts section or in some piece of paper I couldn't throw away. I decided to post these in all its incomplete, incoherent glory.
The air is thick with the raucous sound of drunken laughter drifting from the neighbor store below through her open window. She hears without listening, oblivious to the outside voices intruding in her room. It’s a hot summer night, and she’s alone in her room, and with her thoughts.
I’m not good at discussing religion. I do less than what my religion expects me to, so that makes me less qualified to defend my own religion or to even criticize another.
On my way home last night, a teenage girl who looks like she’s no older than 18, asked the jeepney driver: “kuya, pwede po bang mangaral?”. When the driver said yes, she immediately started preaching. Most of the passengers looked ill at ease to be riding in the same jeepney as the young girl preaching about man’s sinfulness and excesses. I should say I must look ill at ease, too. I didn’t know whether I should take out my earphones out of courtesy (although I can still hear her even with the music blaring in my ears) and whether doing so would just call attention to the fact that I own something that might be considered “man’s excesses”. I didn’t take out the earphones but I tried to listen, but my mind was wandering: when was the last time I ever did something like this for my religion? Her preaching didn’t last more than 10 minutes, but at that short span, I felt a pang of jealousy and pity. Jealousy, because the girl has the devotion and willingness to do something for what she believed in. Pity, well, nobody in the jeepney was paying her any attention. Everyone was busy looking at the opposite direction and some even have little smirks on their faces.
Before she ended her speech, the girl handed out white envelopes to the passengers. Does it make me a bad person if I say that I felt disappointment when I saw those envelopes?
This is my loyal, trusted and very battered Nokia 6600 – and I’m about to, sniff, replace it. I say that with a really heavy heart. It’s like what I said before: a mobile phone, for some, might be a luxury, and for others, a necessity. For me, my phone is an extension of my personality.
I am going to bore you with a topic which, in the right hands, might be interesting, but because it’s me, is going to be long-winded and unintelligible. But I don’t have anyone to discuss this with, so I’m blogging about it.
If I could, I would ignore any and all news, especially concerning the global economy and financial markets, but because it’s part of my job, I HAVE to. And yes, I’ve been consuming some REALLY BAD news for almost six months now, with no end in sight and it’s hard not to be affected and get stressed over it.
Today I was doing additional reading on the Maddoff scandal. Bernard Maddoff was a former Nasdaq chairman and Wall Street market-maker who was recently charged with securities fraud. His business allegedly operated as a giant Ponzi scheme (or what we Pinoys termed as pyramid scam) which cost its investors losses to the tune of approximately 50 FREAKIN’ BILLION US DOLLARS. I don’t know about you, but to me that looks an awful lot of money to lose, and it’s not even his.
Reading the newspaper accounts, it’s not hard to imagine why people would trust Maddoff with their money. He’s not some shady guy who approaches you with a promise of double digit returns on your money; he was a former Nasdaq chairman for heaven’s sake! If I have money, I would have invested, too.
Good thing I don’t have that kind of money.
It’s time for Jela’s Rant For The Day, The One In Which She Tries To Be A Smartass And Rant At Someone Who Don’t Exactly Read Her Blog And, What Exactly Is The Point Of This Post?
Someone’s comment on the song “One of Us” by Joan Osbourne: “Ang stupid naman ng song na yan! God is one of us? Eh di hindi na siya God!”.
Exactly the point of the song! The song is inviting us to imagine how God would be if He's like us (“What if God was one of us?”). And anyway, the song is not a critique against God, but a song about His believers (at least that’s how I understood it). It’s simple, really: would we still worship God if He is just like us – imperfect, truly human? If we take away His mystery (“if God has a name, what would it be?...”; “if God has a face, what would it look like?...”), would we still believe?
Through this post I am going to bore you all by discussing something I watched on the National Geographic Channel.
I watched “Fight Science” last Saturday and it was both educational and entertaining for me. It was awesome the way they combined martial arts, motion-capture technology and biomechanics science to, in their words, “find out which discipline has the hardest hits, the fastest moves and the deadliest weapons”. Personally, I was too engrossed with the way they were beating the shit out of the crash test dummies to properly watch, but a lot of things stood out for me.
They have representatives from the various martial arts disciplines like boxing, muay thai, ju-jitsu, karate, taekwondo, kung fu and ninjitsu. My moment of ignorance came when a Filipino fighting technique, kali, was shown, and my reaction was “Huh? Never heard of it!”. I guess I was more familiar with the term arnis.
“Kung ikaw ang papipiliin, ano ang mas gusto mo: ang matsismis na bakla o ang matsismis na pumapatol sa bakla?”
That was a question posed to a contestant of a reality talent search competition. It just struck me as a really obnoxious question.
I know I’ve always said that given a choice, I’d rather be a man. Yet if there’s one thing about being female I’m thankful for, it’s that my sexuality is not questioned as much as most men’s are.
Time Waits For No Man
At certain points in our lives, we come to live for a particular year or event in our future. At least, that has been the case for me.
When I was about four or five years old, I was looking forward to being a doctor at the age of twenty five. For me, my life ends when I become a doctor at that age; I can’t imagine life beyond that.
When I was in elementary, I no longer wanted to be a doctor. I just can’t wait to reach college. When you’re in primary school, studying in college seemed to be the height of cool. For me, my life ends when I reach college; I can’t imagine life beyond that.
When I was twelve, a high school freshman and at the height of some silly infatuation, I can’t wait to reach the age of eighteen. At that age, I would be allowed to have a boyfriend and my crush at that time promised to wait until that day. For me, my life ends when I reach eighteen and can be with the one I love; I can’t imagine life beyond that.
Have you noticed how Viggo Mortensen gets hotter the filthier he gets?
You know, I have a reputation to protect. I am tough, bordering on the cynical. I’m a realist, damn it.
And yet, I always, always find myself sinking into the deepest pits of SHALLOW.
Boys. All because of boys.
Boys bring out my dark, superficial side.
Some people think I’m scared of dead people because when I go to wakes, I never approach the deceased’s casket. I don’t know if that is considered bad manners, which is why I’m not comfortable going to wakes.
The real reason is this: I don’t want my last memory of that person be of him/her lying down dead in his/her coffin.
Do you notice how it seemed like happiness is fleeting but grief is all-consuming?