It's My Day!

I'm paraphrasing again something I heard from other people, this time from Rob Thomas:

I don't grow old, I grow older. I know certain things about myself that isn't going to change, and it's kind of comforting.

Here's to more years of not growing old, but years of growing older and wiser. :)

Side Trip

I have lots of kwento that I want to share, but I can't find the time nor the words to write those thoughts down. Then I saw a submission in PostSecret that hit me and I'm paraphrasing it here:

Sometimes it's scary to think that we won't ever get the chance to repeat every single moment in our lives in the exact same way and feel the exact same feelings, but it's comforting to know that those moments and those feelings DID exist.

Just Checking In...

I know my trip to Shanghai is wholly work-related, but damn! Can I just take a few seconds to think of it as a chance to see a foreign country and feel a tiny bit excitement that I'll be traveling outside the Philippines for the first time? Can I just forget all the pressures that goes with the fact that I'm new on the job and already was asked to venture into unfamiliar territory?

I feel so damn insecure and so unprepared and so scared. I'm psyching myself up with pictures of The Bund at night and the Shanghai World Financial Center. For a moment, the pressures are off.

Everything will turn out fine.

The Grave Is Not Its Goal

Twenty six years ago, on the day I turned two, Ninoy Aquino was shot dead. I was much too young to comprehend the impact of such news, but it was one of my clearest childhood memories: my mom and I were in the sala, looking out of the window, the black radio delivering the news at the corner of the room. I was seated on my mom’s lap and I couldn’t see her face, but I remember that she was silent for a while. I remember that she said something like, “it’s your birthday, and Ninoy died.” Maybe it was my mom’s way of predicting that one day, the nation will revere Ninoy as a hero, and will celebrate his life every year on his death anniversary, every year on my birthday. But I didn't know that then, and neither did my mom. All I know was it was my birthday, and it was a sad day.

When the news broke out that former President Cory Aquino passed away last August 1, my first thought was: she died 20 days before the death anniversary of Ninoy. It was such a sad, sad thought for me and I don’t know why. All weekend long I tried to fight this grief. I avoided the news and specials on TV, avoided reading the tributes of newspaper columnists and bloggers. I didn’t even attempt to catch a glimpse of the cortege when it passed by Ayala Avenue yesterday. Maybe if I didn’t think about it, it never happened. Yet somehow, I found myself crying silently while traveling the length of Roxas Boulevard this morning. Maybe I was overreacting. But then, maybe all of us – those who lined up to see her casket, those who waited, welcomed and showered her casket with confettis on the streets of Makati – are overreacting. So what? We have the right to express ourselves freely, we have the right to overreact. We are free to do all these things, all because of Cory.

There’s nothing more that I could add to what has been already said about Cory’s legacy. But more than her legacy as a leader and champion of democracy, it is her belief – and Ninoy’s belief – in the inherent goodness of people that I will most remember her for. Years ago, we showed the world our best when, as a nation, we chose Cory as our President against tremendous odds, during such tumultuous times. I hope and pray that one day, we might show the world again our very best.

I am sad, but I’m eternally grateful. Grateful that I can celebrate my birthdays as a citizen of a free and democratic nation. Grateful that I can mourn a person’s death without fear of persecution or arrest. Grateful that I learned how to have faith in people to do what's good and right because my leader taught me how to. Thank you, Cory.

Tell me not in mournful numbers,

"Life is but an empty dream!"

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"

Was not spoken of the soul.

- A Psalm of Life, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Eat Slugs, Malfoy!

(Screw this! I've been drafting this blog since last week with the intention of posting one entry per day starting Thursday last week! Please excuse the lack of structure and coherency. :p)

I’m going to use Harry Potter again as an excuse to blog. Ahem.

So. Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince is finally, FINALLY here. I’ve already made the reservations and will be watching with Mark and Jen on Thursday. In the meantime, I will post my personal ranking of the seven HP books.

I’ve always wanted to do this ranking, but don't know how to start. I don’t want to sound like a trying hard critic judging the literary merits of the books, because I’m not. I don’t want to give the impression that I like one book better than the other, because I love all the books that make up the HP series, warts and all. Also, by ranking them, I feel that I’d be looking at the books as separate and stand-alone novels instead of parts of an over-arcing storyline.

Anyway, my basis for ranking the books are as follows:

• The actual physical condition of the book – I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve read each book so I can’t honestly say which book I’ve read more. While the books' wear and tear look may not be an accurate basis (the older books are more battered than the newer ones, plus the paperback editions will definitely show more cracks than the hardbound editions), I feel I can safely rely on this indicator;
• Quotes – I tend to quote HP a lot. Of course, I tend to quote the lines that are most memorable to me.
• Emotional Impact – each book affected me in various ways. Two of the books in my top three were the books that I had the insane urge to chuck the first time I read it.

This is not the most scientific nor unbiased ranking ever, I'm telling you. I’m pretty sure anyone who've read this blog can guess which book is my top one. I’d be happy to hear what you think my top three will be! This is my personal ranking and you’re free to comment/react on my reasons. As usual spoiler alert to those who have been living under the rock not yet read the books.

"Fame's a fickle friend, Harry. Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that."
- Professor Gilderoy Lockhart

"This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"
- Tom Marvolo Riddle

"Oh Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done,
You're killing off students, you think it's good fun - "
- Peeves the Poltergeist


#7: HARRY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS (Book 2)

My paperback CoS is, relatively, in pristine condition – but only because it was my second copy already! I lost my original paperback in heaven knows where, which is too bad because it was a gift. Nevertheless, I’m still quite sure I’ve not read CoS as much as the others. That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy CoS as much.

The book's plot structure is very similar to the first book: we follow Harry through his second year at Hogwarts, while trying to solve a few mysteries. In this case, there's a creature roaming around school targeting Muggleborns and Squibs; a creature, legend has it, that came from the Chamber of Secrets. Harry is somehow connected, especially upon learning he has a magical ability considered to be a form of dark magic.

CoS introduced us to one Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, the new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher. I think it was briefly implied in the Sorcerer’s Stone that the DADA post might be cursed, but in Lockhart’s case, I guess it’s not so much as the post being cursed as much as Lockhart being such an awful teacher. I love how they established Lockhart as this vain, famous, celebrity-like wizard who’s trying to give advice to Harry on how to handle his popularity (while at the same time resenting how Harry, despite not wanting the attention, is still loads more popular than he is). On the surface, Lockhart seemed like a good wizard with above average magic skills, or so the books he wrote stated. Then we get to the misadventures with the pixies (“Peskipiksi Pesternomi!”), the dueling club and the manner by which he conducts class - and you know something is amiss. Sure enough, Lockhart's more than a self-absorbed prick. What he lacked in magical skills, he made up for his cunning. JKR is good at writing morally gray characters, and Lockhart, though more of a comic relief than an actual villain, was just as gray.

Then there’s Lucius Malfoy, the magnificent bastard that he was. There’s also Dobby, who I pitied but who also annoyed me with his plans to keep Harry from Hogwarts. Not only did his plans failed, but his plans also produced disastrous results. Dobby took a level in badass later on in the book and in the series, and of course, his death in DH was one of the most heart-wrenching scenes written.

I only realize this recently, but it was in CoS that Harry learned the Disarming spell, Expelliarmus, which became his sort of signature move. And guess who taught him that, albeit unwittingly? Severus Snape, is who!

The main plot of CoS had little to do with the series’ overall story arc. Yet I love the foreshadowings in the book that played a major part later in the series. I love how the book retained the storytelling elements of Sorcerer's Stone that made me an HP fan: mysteries to be solved, tricky red herrings, plot twists that I never saw coming. I love how Harry became more confident the more he learns and yet still felt in awe to be in the presence of magic. I love that so much because I know it’s the same sort of reaction I’d have if I’m in Harry’s place!

I ranked CoS at number 7 because of the acromantulas. God, I hate spiders, especially GIANT spiders! Okay, I’m half kidding. As I said, CoS didn’t add much to the story arc as the other books did. While Riddle’s diary is important in terms of it being a Horcrux, Harry could have found out about it in other ways without the need to set up the whole opening of the Chamber of Secrets plot. That’s not to say that CoS is unimportant. The series would have been less without all the foreshadowings. The book is full of dry wit, and the twists were wonderfully maneuvered and revealed.

(Work in progress! Might revise later as I see fit! Damn unmotivated blogger.)

Breaking Free

I refuse to feel guilty about my decision, but I can understand why others feel as though I’ve let them down. It’s not the best moment to leave, but I’ve been saying that same thing before. If I won’t do it now, I’m scared I won’t get the courage to do it anymore.

I’m scared. I’m sad. Most of all, I feel free. Maybe things will not work out the way I wanted, but I’ll remember this feeling and know I made the best choice.

Incomplete, Incoherent

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?