I did these two entries the week before the New Year but because I was phone line-less, I was not able to post them. Now that I am back in the real world (and devoid of a bike and a crude fishing pole), I can post them here.
This survey came from the blog of Ala Paredes (link is in my sidebar). I came across it when I was browsing her blog last year and I told myself I will answer it by the end of 2006.
What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before?
Hmmm...a lot of things...
1. I had a "job" for about six months although I refused to get paid for whatever "work" I did.
2. I finally had the guts to submit a piece I wrote to a national daily and it actually got published!
3. I finally drove a car in EDSA which, up until about a month ago, was just a figment of my imagination and I lived to tell the tale.
4. I subjected myself to torture in my first year in law school.
Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Hmmm...I promised myself I would be more productive for 2006 and I believe I lived up to the standard I set for myself! I'll make the same resolutions for 2007, including NOT PROCRASTINATING!
Did anyone close to you give birth?
My cousins Cheryl (to Cienna) and Candy (to Joshua).
Did anyone close to you die?
My grandmother's sister Lola Pening
What countries did you visit?
China - Hong Kong and Shenzhen
What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006?
Hmmm...more maturity and I guess, more faith - in God, myself and in other people.
What date from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
December 25, 2006, Christmas day! Among the many things I had to deal with, I squashed my toes on that day. People within a 10 meter radius from me would know why!
What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Passing all my subjects during the first semester!
What was your biggest failure?
I do not really look at anything as a failure because it sounds so negative. I regard everything as a learning experience. So yeah my thesis problems earlier this year were a learning experience!
Did you suffer illness or injury?
Nothing serious except for occasional bouts of flu and sore throat here and there.
What was the best thing you bought?
Avalon's 1992 Christmas CD for only P200! YESSSSS!
Whose behavior merited celebration?
My grandfather's! He's a brave baby!
Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Jose De Venecia. Sad to say but the man really gets my blood pressure rising.
Where did most of your money go?
Hmmm...books, tithing, CDs, pasalubong and tapsilog.
What did you get really, really, really excited about?
A family trip abroad...our first in 10 years! And getting Lea Salonga's autograph addressed to me (thanks to Mini)! Eto kwento ha: I actually got her autograph on a Miss Saigon playbill in the 90s when my dad went to New York. He stood outside in the cold and froze his nose, waiting for her to come out just to get her autograph. Someone borrowed it from me and did not give it back! >:p
What song(s) will always remind you of 2006?
Definitely "Bad Day" by Daniel Powter.
Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? -- happier
ii. thinner or fatter? -- same, I guess...or I hope!
iii. richer or poorer? -- hoping I'm richer? :p
What do you wish you'd done more?
Swim, especially in the beach and get really baked to a toast. Play my guitar and relearn playing piano...and I wish I read more books for leisure and painted my fingernails.
What do you wish you'd done less of?
Procrastinate and blow my top off thanks to incorrigible jeepney drivers!
How many one-night stands?
I don't stand at night...I lie down and sleep. :p
What was your favorite TV program?
When I still watched TV...Lost and CSI.
Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
I don't hate him but I am soooo mad at him and he absolutely knows why.
What was the best book you read?
Sylvia Plath's Ariel
What was your greatest musical discovery?
That I could still play my old piano pieces after more than 10 years!
What did you want and get?
A puppy! And I got two (one towards the beginning of 2006 and the other during the latter part of this year) although the younger one is really, really sick. :( Oh, and Take That reuniting for a new reunion album (harharhar).
What was your favorite film of this year?
I didn't see a lot of films this year but from the ones I did see...toss up between The Chronicles of Narnia and The Inconvenient Truth.
What was the worst film you saw this year?
By a mile, the Colin Farrell movie A New World. Boring to death and no acting required. Colin did nothing but sulk in the movie and anybody who came in contact with him also ended up sulking. And he did not sulk that well either.
What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
On my 23rd birthday in June, I was in my room, studying. :(
What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Aside from almost getting the chance to see Wang Lee Hom in the flesh? Haha! I wish I could have devoted more of my time to teaching children. I did get to do that this year during the summer but I was also committed to other responsibilities, I could not go into teaching during the entire duration of the break.
How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006?
Still laid back but a bit edgier - ripped jeans, dress shirts, weirder designs and prints. More sneakers and jeans, still love black, saw lots purple, green and orange in my closet, more plaid shirts and turtleneck blouses.
What kept you sane?
The Bible.
Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Chiz Escudero (*sigh)
What political issue stirred you the most?
Walang kamatayang Con-Ass!!!
Who did you miss?
My Mamang
Who was the best new person you met?
Taylor Hicks? Oh...MET, like for real! Atty. Marvic Leonen.
Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006:
Everything happens at its perfect schedule. No timing could be more perfect than God's timing.
What was the nicest thing someone told you about yourself:
I guess when my friend of 10 years called me a "fairchild." I had never been called that before and I certainly had never seen myself in that way.
The most touching experience you've had this year?
During the summer, I got a lot of watermelons from a bunch of people who needed to bring them home more than I did. Thank you!
What did you like most about yourself this year?
I think I'm starting to get the hang of the art of multitasking.
What did you hate most about yourself this year?
Hmmm...something Sue calls "trust issues." :p
Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
"Someday you'll know that nature is so
The same rain that draws you near me
Falls on rivers and land, on forests and sand
Makes the beautiful world that you see
In the morning."
(from Vienna Teng's "Lullaby on a Stormy Night")
Was 2006 a good year for you?
95% of the time, yes!
What was your favorite moment of the year?
January 2006 when Tita Val, Tita Nadi, Auntie Lina, Tita Agnes and Tito Steve came over for a visit.
What was your least favorite moment of the year?
Lolo profusely bleeding during the summer and having to rush him to the hospital in the middle of the night during an office party.
Where were you when 2006 began?
In my hometown, playing with sparklers.
Who were you with?
My entire family!
Where will you be when 2006 ends?
Still in the same hometown, will most likely still be playing with sparklers.
Who will you be with when 2006 ends?
Still with my entire family!
Do you have a new year's resolution for 2007?
Work harder, serve more, laugh more, become more of the person God wants me to be.
What was your favorite month of 2006?
December, as always.
What was your favorite record from 2006?
Toss up between "Awake" by Josh Groban and "Some Hearts" by Carrie Underwood.
How many concerts did you see in 2006?
Does the church cantata count? If it does, then one! :)
Did you drink a lot of alchohol in 2006?
No.
Do a lot of drugs in 2005?
None.
You do anything you are ashamed of this year?
Yes, like I always do. :(
How much money did you spend in 2006?
I do not keep track but I know I did not overspend.
What was your proudest moment of 2006?
Watching my eldest niece win her very first declamation contest!
What was your most embarrassing moment of 2006?
Tripping over a muddle of wires on stage in front of lots of people. :p
If you could go back in time to any moment of 2006 and change something, what would it be?
Haha June 28, 2006 at 8 in the morning. I wish I remembered at that moment that not at all law professors are the same! :)
What are your plans for 2007?
I still hope to be in school and serve God in any way I can. I hope to travel to another foreign country (like England or Japan), go back to teaching music to kids during school breaks, FINALLY learn how to cook, make some progress with my guitar playing, write something meaningful...and make a home movie starring my nieces and/or nephews.
How are you different now that the year has ended?
I'm definitely more reflective and more hopeful, a stronger person and more determined than ever. I have learned to let go and not worry about things beyond my control. I've grown closer and closer to my God through the years.
What are your wishes for the new year?
I wish it would be better year for my family and for my friends. I wish my grandparents good health (still have four years to go). I wish to meet more people, make new friends and learn new lessons.
Sunday, January 1, 2006
An Imperfectly Perfect Christmas
December 2006, 9:40 PM.
I'm seeing snow in the tropics. It's all over me, even on my computer.
Actually, the "snow" refers to the white clumps of fur floating before my eyes in an almost celestial illusion of one of the most common symbols for Christmas. The clumps of hair belong to my grandparents' dog Sam. He has been rubbing his head on my lap for the past five minutes now, wanting to be petted. I don't know how long I can keep on ignoring him but I sure know that I'll go to sleep smelling a lot like dog tonight.
I'm dead tired, having spent the entire day within one centimeter of a hundred or so screaming children jumping around in empty sacks or wrestling with Monobloc chairs. My t-shirt has gotten a tad bit too big for me, having endured incessant pulling from a bunch of five-year olds asking for an extra helping of candy. And now I realize, after glancing at my sleeve, that I do need to take a bath.
One of the children I get to talk to in an almost regular basis is Baby. Her mother used to be one of our household helpers. I remember playing "luksong tinik" with her on our front yard. One night though, she did not come home and I went to sleep wondering why. The next thing I know my sister and I are watching her lug her bag out of the house after she tells us she has decided to elope with her boyfriend who lives down the street. She later gave birth to twins who are both named Sheila. Baby came after the twins and is older sister to two more younger brothers. She is now 9 years old but looks like she's 5. She loves Sugarfree and "Panday" and can memorize the theme song word for word even if she does not speak Tagalog at all. I usually wake up to her singing...no, bellowing that song from the street across our bedroom window in the unholiest of hours (around 6:30 am). I cover my ears with a pillow but shrug off more feelings of amusement than irritation.
Earlier tonight, she related excitedly to me that even if they did not have anything special for Christmas dinner, she was looking forward to New Year because her mother promised to make spaghetti. It was as if she was saying "My Christmas was not perfect but I'm looking forward to something good for the new year."
A perfect Christmas.
Perhaps when we read those words, we usually conjure thoughts similar to those Purefoods Fiesta Ham commercials on TV - misa de gallo, pealing bells, a parol by the window, beautiful dresses, family members all present, food abounding on the table, gifts piled high and a Christmas tree choked up with lights. Everything is so perfect from the pristine white table cloth to the smiles on people's faces. It makes you wonder what happens when someone accidentally elbows a bottle of wine and spills the red liquid on the table.
By TV commercial standards, my Christmases have never been perfect. As a matter of fact, if it were THAT perfect, I would find the entire thing too Willy-Wonka creepy. For 23 years, my Christmases have been punctuated by a lot of kinks and misses - a hard-to-remove stain on a prized table cloth, the ham getting too overcooked to be palatable, someone getting possessed by the Grinch on the night before Christmas, two people giving each other the cold shoulder in probably the coldest time of the year in my country, a relative having a little too much to drink...I could just go on and on. Someone can always manage to, as my sister puts it, single-handedly ruin Christmas in the blink of an eye.
If we allow it.
I'll say that again. If we allow it.
Our overly commercialized, consumer-driven world has gotten it all wrong. Christmas, they say, is about perfection. They pound it into our brains as if we were bipeds with drumsets for heads. Everything has to be perfect, as perfect as say, Marcia Cross's hair in "Desperate Housewives." Nothing could ever go wrong on Christmas Day.
But if we go back to that very first Christmas more than 2000 years ago when the Messiah was born, perfection was wanting. Mary, His mother, was heavy with child and had to travel to Bethlehem with Joseph. When they got to Bethlehem, there was no available room in an inn for them to rest for the night. How dreadfully inconvenient that must have been! I mean, if waiting in line in a cashier's booth for last minute-Christmas shopping is patience-draining, how much more discovering that there are no available rooms for rent when you're having contractions! Upon giving birth to Jesus, Mary then, as the oft-quoted phrase goes, wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him, not on a crib, but on a manger. If my childhood Christmas plays were to be believed, the manger would have been stuffed with hay. As a child, I once roamed the ricefields in search of snails and earthworms and when I eventually got tired, I then laid myself down on a haystack. It was not that comfortable and by the time I got up, I had itchy welts all over my legs and arms.
But that picture of Christmas would always be perfect for us just as the nativity sets up for sale in department stores portray. The perfection comes about because we choose to ignore the imperfections and instead settle on the beautiful point that the Christmas story has to offer - love, pure and unconditional love.
It was love that brought Jesus to the world to eventually die for our sins. It was love from our Father for us, His children, who, unlike Him, are desperately wanting of perfection. It was nothing but love, what real love should be, pure and unconditional.
In the same way that an assortment of elements jump around in spandex and pitchforks to stir our Christmas into a major headache, I say it is as perfect as it is, imperfections and all. After all, like I said, only TV commercials for ham are perfect and they need to be, or else you'll end up buying either the rival brand's ham or, worse, chicken hamonado. But what makes me close my eyes and look beyond the imperfection is love. True, the ones you love always hurt you the most but I love my family too much to dwell on what's wrong with them or to focus on what makes them a disappointment sometimes. I love my family despite the mistakes they make and the times they may squash my heart and my toes into nothingness...in the same way that they still love me when I hurt them with the things I may do or say. That is TRUE love, the kind of love we learn from our Heavenly Father, the kind of love that brought salvation to the world, the kind of love that can make the the imperfect perfect.
I'm seeing snow in the tropics. It's all over me, even on my computer.
Actually, the "snow" refers to the white clumps of fur floating before my eyes in an almost celestial illusion of one of the most common symbols for Christmas. The clumps of hair belong to my grandparents' dog Sam. He has been rubbing his head on my lap for the past five minutes now, wanting to be petted. I don't know how long I can keep on ignoring him but I sure know that I'll go to sleep smelling a lot like dog tonight.
I'm dead tired, having spent the entire day within one centimeter of a hundred or so screaming children jumping around in empty sacks or wrestling with Monobloc chairs. My t-shirt has gotten a tad bit too big for me, having endured incessant pulling from a bunch of five-year olds asking for an extra helping of candy. And now I realize, after glancing at my sleeve, that I do need to take a bath.
One of the children I get to talk to in an almost regular basis is Baby. Her mother used to be one of our household helpers. I remember playing "luksong tinik" with her on our front yard. One night though, she did not come home and I went to sleep wondering why. The next thing I know my sister and I are watching her lug her bag out of the house after she tells us she has decided to elope with her boyfriend who lives down the street. She later gave birth to twins who are both named Sheila. Baby came after the twins and is older sister to two more younger brothers. She is now 9 years old but looks like she's 5. She loves Sugarfree and "Panday" and can memorize the theme song word for word even if she does not speak Tagalog at all. I usually wake up to her singing...no, bellowing that song from the street across our bedroom window in the unholiest of hours (around 6:30 am). I cover my ears with a pillow but shrug off more feelings of amusement than irritation.
Earlier tonight, she related excitedly to me that even if they did not have anything special for Christmas dinner, she was looking forward to New Year because her mother promised to make spaghetti. It was as if she was saying "My Christmas was not perfect but I'm looking forward to something good for the new year."
A perfect Christmas.
Perhaps when we read those words, we usually conjure thoughts similar to those Purefoods Fiesta Ham commercials on TV - misa de gallo, pealing bells, a parol by the window, beautiful dresses, family members all present, food abounding on the table, gifts piled high and a Christmas tree choked up with lights. Everything is so perfect from the pristine white table cloth to the smiles on people's faces. It makes you wonder what happens when someone accidentally elbows a bottle of wine and spills the red liquid on the table.
By TV commercial standards, my Christmases have never been perfect. As a matter of fact, if it were THAT perfect, I would find the entire thing too Willy-Wonka creepy. For 23 years, my Christmases have been punctuated by a lot of kinks and misses - a hard-to-remove stain on a prized table cloth, the ham getting too overcooked to be palatable, someone getting possessed by the Grinch on the night before Christmas, two people giving each other the cold shoulder in probably the coldest time of the year in my country, a relative having a little too much to drink...I could just go on and on. Someone can always manage to, as my sister puts it, single-handedly ruin Christmas in the blink of an eye.
If we allow it.
I'll say that again. If we allow it.
Our overly commercialized, consumer-driven world has gotten it all wrong. Christmas, they say, is about perfection. They pound it into our brains as if we were bipeds with drumsets for heads. Everything has to be perfect, as perfect as say, Marcia Cross's hair in "Desperate Housewives." Nothing could ever go wrong on Christmas Day.
But if we go back to that very first Christmas more than 2000 years ago when the Messiah was born, perfection was wanting. Mary, His mother, was heavy with child and had to travel to Bethlehem with Joseph. When they got to Bethlehem, there was no available room in an inn for them to rest for the night. How dreadfully inconvenient that must have been! I mean, if waiting in line in a cashier's booth for last minute-Christmas shopping is patience-draining, how much more discovering that there are no available rooms for rent when you're having contractions! Upon giving birth to Jesus, Mary then, as the oft-quoted phrase goes, wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him, not on a crib, but on a manger. If my childhood Christmas plays were to be believed, the manger would have been stuffed with hay. As a child, I once roamed the ricefields in search of snails and earthworms and when I eventually got tired, I then laid myself down on a haystack. It was not that comfortable and by the time I got up, I had itchy welts all over my legs and arms.
But that picture of Christmas would always be perfect for us just as the nativity sets up for sale in department stores portray. The perfection comes about because we choose to ignore the imperfections and instead settle on the beautiful point that the Christmas story has to offer - love, pure and unconditional love.
It was love that brought Jesus to the world to eventually die for our sins. It was love from our Father for us, His children, who, unlike Him, are desperately wanting of perfection. It was nothing but love, what real love should be, pure and unconditional.
In the same way that an assortment of elements jump around in spandex and pitchforks to stir our Christmas into a major headache, I say it is as perfect as it is, imperfections and all. After all, like I said, only TV commercials for ham are perfect and they need to be, or else you'll end up buying either the rival brand's ham or, worse, chicken hamonado. But what makes me close my eyes and look beyond the imperfection is love. True, the ones you love always hurt you the most but I love my family too much to dwell on what's wrong with them or to focus on what makes them a disappointment sometimes. I love my family despite the mistakes they make and the times they may squash my heart and my toes into nothingness...in the same way that they still love me when I hurt them with the things I may do or say. That is TRUE love, the kind of love we learn from our Heavenly Father, the kind of love that brought salvation to the world, the kind of love that can make the the imperfect perfect.
Thursday, December 8, 2005
Someone's Fallen for Maxi
The morning sun lay its blanket of gold across the street, at times glittering even more as it streaked past branches of trees. It was almost time for school but in the still practically deserted street, he walked alone at a comfortable pace, neither tentative nor hurried, pink backpack bouncing softly on his back with every step he made. His eyes would occasionally sweep his surroundings, sometimes stealing a glance at the trees lining the sidewalk or perhaps old paper posters half-torn from the concrete walls of houses. Nevertheless his glance would return, a compass unguided and unmanned, to check what was before him, to see how much further he had to walk. Yet in the entire duration of this albeit mundane journey, as if it were taboo, he never dared turn around and look back, a sacred rule never meant to be broken, an act too dangerous to commit.
Just a few feet away he spots a figure, leaning casually against an owner-type jeepney. He flinches just a bit, just a little bit it's almost negligible. The sun could be playing tricks on my eyes again, he thinks to himself. His pace remains the same, neither tentative nor hurried, pink backpack still plopping rhythmically against his back like a soft kick a baby gives its mother inside the womb. Eyes still dart from side to side, though less frequently, lingering a bit more to the left but quicker, furtive glances dedicated to the right. The jeepney and the figure grow bigger and clearer as he draws closer and as he walks on, his gaze is nowhere but ahead. The street is still deserted, surroundings still quiet and the sunlight still beaming silently past the trees. He is a few steps away from the jeepney and the solitary figure who is now smoking a cigarette. Pace maintained, he soundlessly walks beside the jeepney and the figure and within a few seconds, he has gone past it like a paperboat.
He walks on a little bit more and all the world is still absorbed in half-slumber, except the sun still shining brightly. He is flooded by ripples of uncertainty, rendering his legs unresponsive, which had gone by uninterrupted all this time. He slows down, a significant degree of tentativeness now evident his pace. His eyes are now downcast, sweeping the ground from left to right like marbles swirling in an empty glass. Pink backpack is now thumping an almost indiscernible sound with every step and eventually hangs still, doing nothing more than grazing the back of his carrier like second skin. After a time too brief to be a moment, too long to be insignificant, he walks on in a pace neither tentative nor hurried. But not after he almost twisted his head to look back.
And with this, Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros faded into darkness but never into film history oblivion.
There were so many underlying themes for the film which was so beautifully and exquisitely crafted. The movie title and the synopsis boast of no complicated storyline. It is actually rather straightforward and almost unoriginal: a young gay boy (Nathan Lopez) hitting puberty infatuated (or inlove, as the case may be) with a dashing, honest policeman (JR Valentin) who, in turn, pursues the boy's father (Soliman Cruz) and brothers (Neil Ryan Sese and Ping Medina) who dabble in petty thieving. But that is exactly where the magic of Pagdadalaga begins. It is never what it seems.
For one thing, it is not a gay film. It is, as its director and cast have repeatedly claimed, a coming-of-age movie. One of its actors, Ping Medina who plays Maxi's Kuya Bogs, even said "Nagkataon lang na bading si Maxi" or "It just so happened that Maxi was gay." In my opinion, Pagdadalaga was not out to defend of ridicule homosexuality, nor was it trying to justify it in anyway. Such issues involving the justification of homosexuality were not tackled in the film. It was merely trying to illustrate a young person's coming-of-age and in that attempt, Maxi could easily have been a girl or a guy.
But the fact that Maxi was gay made all the difference in the sense that his "straddling both worlds" turned him into a character with a greater universal appeal and identification. If the main character were a straight boy or a straight girl, only a selected audience could identify and empathize completely with the character of Maxi. There are some issues concerning girls which are not experienced by boys and vise versa and that in itself already presents a certain limitation to the reach of the film. But because Maxi was gay, there was a certain duality which was effectively presented. He was undergoing physical changes which would be masculine in nature because, after all, he was endowed with the physical attributes of a man. But another aspect of himself was also going through tumultuous change - his feelings and emotions which were those of a woman.
Plot-wise, though the film may seem to invoke other movies of yore, it is never just that. What sets it apart from any predecessor which may claim duplicity is that Pagdadalaga is characterized by sheer authenticity. While watching it, I remember thinking aloud and whispering to my sister "It's almost like I'm part of the movie." The script was not put-on and was always natural and free-flowing. It was as if someone installed hidden cameras in the slum areas of Sampaloc, secretly took footage of the local tambay engaged in drunken conversation with his shirtless, pot-bellied neighbor and then turned it into a movie. Take for instance this conversation which Bogs had with a female neighbor who obviously fancied him.
Bogs: Oy, libre ka ba mamayang gabi?
Girl: Oo naman. Para sayo, libre ako kahit anong oras.
Bogs: Ah ganun ba? Kasi ako hindi! (roaring laughter)
I have heard conversations of the similar nature in different instances (such as when buying adidas or barbecue from the roadside vendor) but when used in films, they always come across as fake and scripted as if the actors were trying to make it all too obvious that they were acting (duh!). These and other conversations in Pagdadalaga are always realistic and spontaneous. There was a considerable amount of profanity and diatribes in the language but in this case, it did help in firmly establishing the characters in the movie.
The relationship between Maxi and Victor, the policeman was also not as superficial as it would seem at first. It was not just a simple case of infatuation or an onslaught-of-puberty crush even if when viewed from the third-person perspective, Maxi was obviously enamored with Victor the first time they met. In some sense, both were trying to right a wrong done. Victor obviously was a policeman trying to correct the notion that all cops were dishonest, abusive and corrupt. Maxi was someone who cleaned up after his brothers and his father. He cooked their meals, did the dishes and laundry, made sure the house was always clean and organized, mended the holes in his brothers' clothes...sometimes Bogs would even ask Maxi to braid his hair! Because they shared these traits, they naturally did the same thing for each other. Maxi tried to save Victor from getting the ire of his father and brothers. Victor, on the other hand, did his best to shield Maxi from the bad influence of his father and brothers, as well as society in general.
Maxi's relationship with his family was also not a movie stereotype. In fact, it was as humanly authentic as it could be. Maxi's brothers and father earned a living by stealing cellphones and selling the pilfered items. His Kuys Boy sports a "semi-kal" hairdo and stabbed someone. His Kuya Bogs could rival Rapunzel when it comes to the hair and Dennis Rodman in terms of tattoos. His father has a pot belly, swigs more than one bottle of Tanduay in sidewalk drinking sprees and owns a cellphone he definitely cannot afford to own legally. If this were a typical movie, the father would occasionaly be drunk and beat Maxi to death, swearing he could never have a gay son. The brothers too would be no different. They would be carousing around town, indulding in their own selfish pleasures. But not in this film. Maxi enjoys a very loving relationship with his father and brothers. They never seem to be afraid of physically expressing their affection for each other. Maxi always gets hugs from his father and when he is with his brothers, they would walk side by side, sometimes with one kuya's arm around him. It appears that Bogs or Boy do not even care what others would think seeing such masculine men like them having a more than effeminate younger brother. When Victor broke Maxi's heart, he ran into his Kuya Bogs who, instead of ridiculing him, gave him a hug.
This made me think of people's duality, like Vito Corleone in The Godfather. People would look at Vito Corleone and say he was a heartless and evil man, the Devil incarnate himself. But to his family, he was a dear old man who enjoyed his wife's cooking, watering his plants and playing with his grandchildren. Same goes for Pagdadalaga. Maxi's father was not exactly Mr. Rogers and his brothers could possibly give Marilyn Manson serious competition. People see them as a thieving bunch, the greatest scum of of the universe. But to Maxi, they were Papa, Kuya Boy and Kuya Bogs. He loved them to pieces and they loved him back fiercely. That is perhaps the greatest and truest manifestation of being unconditional.
Perhaps one of the reasons for Pagdadalaga's appeal is its ability to project the truth and nothing but the truth, never over exaggerrating it, never undermining it. It is so sincere it is heartbreaking and poignant. The conflicts tackled are nothing new, such as when Maxi's father laments about how living an honest life has led him to watch his wife die because he could not afford her medications. That situation has been used and abused, hung on a clothesline in the blazing sun to dry and left to the mercy of vultures. But in Pagdadalaga, it struck home, a chord all too familiar and painful. Add that with a series of shots taken of people who live in Maxi's neighborood: a little boy playing in murky, smelly, almost-solid water from the "estero," two plump ladies squabbling in loud, high-pitched voices by the roadside, an old lady with a network of wrinkles on her face smoking a cigar. The visual tableau is shockingly stunning, brutally candid.
The ending was nothing short of perfect. It was as a real ending should be - subtle yet true. It had none of the whitewash and unbelievable benevolence of mainstream films. And it effectively delivered the quiet yet striking message of the film: Things will never be the way they were before and if forgetting were possible, then we would be forever rid of what makes us weep yet what once made us laugh, what once made us learn.
N.B. Can't get enough of Maxi? Fret no more because Maxi has his own blog (http://maximooliveros.blogspot.com). He has posted pictures of his papa, Kuya Boy and Kuya Bogs as well as his brand new slippers. He has an entry on meeting the cute Makisig of Little Big Star. In his profile, he does not hide that he is a fan of Sandara (Park) and Claudine (Barretto)!
Sunday, December 4, 2005
The Myth
*Recently I was tasked to write something about this topic in 30 minutes. Not a good thing, especially if you factor in my usual proclivity to become overly verbose when I'm emotionally attached to a topic. Which is why, I am going to write about this again here.*
Perhaps one of the reasons as to why Asia has been regarded as an exotic place is the continent's natural tendency to delicately intertwine fact and fiction or, to put it in more poetic terms, reality and myth. For instance in Japan, people still regard the Japanese goddess Amaterasu as their progenitor whereas in South Korea, our tour guide told us that Koreans claim that their great ancestor was a she-bear who was turned into a human being by a prince of heaven. While channel surfing, I came across a film docu on Cambodia which said that in the past, a dragon of some sort was thought of to dwell in the innards of the famed Angkor Wat and the king was even aware of its presence. My several rewatches of "Anna and the King" have rendered me all-too-familiar with Thailand's famed white elephant. The Philippines itself, despite intense Christianization by foreign occupants, is not devoid of such intricate interweaving. For instance, I still unconsciously mutter "Puera buyag" or "Puera usog" when I see a cute baby and a recent unexplained illness I had this year was attributed by someone I know to a person who supposedly had a higher "dungan" than me.
It is a cultural norm for us to do such things, to somehow still explain reality in terms which are of mythological nature or origin. I am not saying it is right or wrong although I usualy tend to draw the line since I believe science and reason can usually explain most phenomena. But what exactly is myth and what exactly is reality? Some say myth is imagined and reality is, well, what we see around us. Thus reality is more concrete and more tangible. I would like to add something though. In some aspects, a myth is an ideal, a standard not yet achieved by reality. And it is in this light that the conjugal union between myth and reality should not be broken that doing such would be tantamount to sacrilege.
For instance, as a child, a boy is taught by his mother to never do bad things such as to steal from the tiangge down the street or not to lie. They are taught to always adhere to good and never to evil. They do such things simply because it is what is taught to them, it is what is right. Thus you hear the occasional reply from a child when asked why, for instance, he did not cheat in a school examination: "Kasi, masama yun." That is inculcated in the child's mind, as an ideal, a standard which he always has to live up to. As he grows older, he gets to encounter more standards, more ideals, more things which he should do.
One of the things we are taught at an early age is the concept of punishment. Of course, forgiveness comes along but as children, we obeyed our parents because we were dead scared of getting punished. The rules are pretty simple: do as we say obey us because if you do something else, you'll get something you don't want in the first place. All children, no matter if they're the ate, kuya or bunso will always get whacked in the butt, sit in the corner for about half an hour or, for the more...er...traditional, kneel on mongo beans for a period of time if they do something wrong. The rules apply to everybody and no one is exempted. That's what I was taught for starters and I am sure other Filipino kids are all too familiar with that too.
As they say, everything always starts in the home. The concepts we learn at home are no different from what we see outside. The concept of crime and punishment is very much present and all are supposedly equal in the eyes of the law despite ethnic origin, socio-economic background, educational attainment, etc. As a matter of fact, our honorable congressman even proudly declare in their hallowed halls the words - "Dura lex, sed lex." The law, no matter how hard, is still the law. One congressman, apparently all too excited to display among his many extraordindary talents, his proficiency in Philippine linguistics, even spoke those words over and over again in different local dialects (which, I have to add, left me teary-eyed....with laughter).
That is where it all ends, the conjugal union between myth and fact, between an ideal and reality. Perhaps the superfluousity of words is all too outstanding it completely smothers the ideal to an almost silent death. Equality before the law remains to be a myth, an ideal which lives within the pages of books, within the walls of a classroom, within the mind of a person. The moment it steps out of its enclosure, it instantly vaporizes, spontaneously combusts into nothingness. We hear it time and again, it is made to ring in and out of our already banged up heads like a bell - "The law recognizes no one. Justice is blind." You look at a figure of lady of justice and she sure seems like it. The local neighborhood voyeur/nymphomaniac languishes in jail for charges of rape and molestation and eventually lands in the lethal injection table. The gaunt-looking guy who stands in dark alleys and grabs carelessly slung purses get thrown into prison. The flashy woman from down the street is sent behind bars after her checks bounce. But the song is different in other cases. The sentence of a rich scion of an influential family can never be served. A jailed ex-government official who has an unexplained bank account fatter than his already bursting belly is enjoying the comforts of his resthouse and even has the effrontery to request that he be allowed to party. A tax evasion complaint against an extremely wealthy businessman never succeeds. Do I even need to mention a chief executive stealing the only right held dear by an already impoverished nation? No, justice is not blind, it's just blindfolded. And a blindfold is pretty easy to pull off.
The great sin which society (I'm not doing a Pilate here, just so you know) commits is that it always tries to justify the glaring scum which clings to it by saying that reality is always different from theories or, in this case, ideals. To put them together would be synonymous to Don Quixote chasing his windmills. And, sad to say, like Don Quixote, waging war with the evils of society would render one completely mad. And what is worse is that this great lie are being sugarcoated and made to appear as real. If we refuse to accept them, they are still rammed down our throats. Anna and I were discussing this sometime over the phone. A few days ago, I had practically a similar conversation with Em too. It is primarily difficult to cure the ills of society when the 1)environment and the existing setup is completely improper for that and 2)everybody seems to think there is no cure. What then is the purpose of learning and studying? What then is the purpose of words when all meaning and relevance is lost? What then happens to the concept of justice when it is not being practiced? They become like myths - words passed on from one generation next but passing on is never enough. Eventually they will drift away from us like dust carelessly swept away by the wind, never to be seen again.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Thoughts from Somewhere
Got a little tired from studying so I'm writing again. First off, I was not the least bit surprised upon seeing that Garci is back in the headlines once again after a brief hiatus (which I am sure he totally enjoyed). Not only is he hogging the newspapers, he's also the star of the 6 PM news, which I have recently begun to regard as the best telenovela ever, given the seemingly exciting turn of events. What's lacking is a dash of amnesia and telenovelas on primetime would definitely lose their luster.
Speaking of exciting turn of events enough to flip my eyelids backwards, Garci's wife Grace (who I have to give credit for living up to every letter of her name...it's not easy being the better half of THE most-wanted man in the country today) denies that Garci placed a single finger or toe outside the country. Yeah, I roll my eyeballs in disgust. Probably the talk of him doing his own hyperextended version of Jules Verne's classic could have been stretched to some point but him not leaving the country? I know the Philippines has 7,107 islands (and, as we all have memorized by now, even more during low tide), making it perhaps one of the best places in the world to play hide-and-seek next to Antarctica. The Singaporean government has acknowledged that GMA's phone pal had indeed entered its territory and between Lee Kwan Yu's progeny and Garci's better half, the choice as to who I should believe is rather obvious. Besides, if Garci had never left the country, somehow, someone would have gotten to him earlier than now. I have firm faith in our chismax network and noses which could sniff better than the K9s which have become a staple sight in malls. Besides, Garci would not be particularly difficult to single out when in the crowd...except when he's with politicians because by then, they would all reek of the same stench - the people's tears.
*****
GMA was in Busan, South Korea last week for the APEC. She met with Bush, who is also in the same politically tense situation as her in his home country. She also met Korea's president and prepared to discuss several key issues with him regarding governance, especially since Korea is regarded to one of the world's model nations in terms of development and stability.
I was with my dad and we blurted out the same thing: "Be serious about dealing with corruption and start cleaning up your act!" I am curious though as to what the South Korean leader said to her.
*****
My two nieces gave me an interesting "gift" before I left last weekend. Handwritten in pencil on a piece of paper torn off a nine-year old's notebook were the lyrics to Sugarfree's "Makita Kang Muli." Seems like they both wanted me to learn the song since they would spontaneously launch into a duet, crooning the now-familiar "Ohhhhhh..." opening just about anywhere. As I am writing this now, I am singing the extremely addictive "Ohhhhhh" in my head.
Speaking of addictive, I also find myself singing "Pamparampampam" from Kitchie Nadal's version of "Love Ko 'To" minus the fries.
*****
In other music news, Wang Lee Hom, my bane if post-teen obsession with a musical genius were a serious sin, is putting the finishing touches on his new album, which I heard was going to consist of mostly English songs, thus putting a temporary halt on my struggle with Pinyin lyrics. I read that he collaborated with Korea's pop icon Bi (Rain) which would seriously cause some serious stir in the music scene. Personally, I have gone by unaffected by Bi's charms. The guy is a fantastic dancer but I have more proclivity towards watching him rather than listening to him. He's smooth on the dancefloor but has yet to convince me of his singing prowess. Lee Hom, on the other hand, is first and foremost a musician despite all the slashes added to his name, and a rather multifarious one at that. It would be rather interesting to see how his work with Bi would take fruit.
*****
There's something I don't understand about people in airplanes. Whenever I take a flight, I always make sure that I request for a window seat. I am not exactly claustrophobic but I am not a fan of heights. When the airplane does its usual drops in any part of the flight, I tighten my tummy and look out the window because it gives me comfort to know what's going on outside. But if the plane runs out of window seats, that is absolutely fine with me.
What really gets the little furnace in my head roaring is when I walk into the plane, look for my seat and find that someone (and that someone is always older than me by at least fifteen years) is already seated conveniently in my seat. This happened on my flight home. I found a guy in his 40s already squeezed into the window seat I had requested so I asked him politely to give me my seat. He half-stood up, hesitated and then sat down which totally left me flabbergasted...and my temple throbbing. He asked if he could stay there and naturally, though floored, I could not say "no." Call me selfish or what but that was just unfair. If he were a senior citizen and looked a quarter of Dumbledore's age, I would have relented without a whine but he looked pretty healthy enough...and his appetite during the flight was a manifestation of it too. In the first place, I would never ever ask someone for a window seat even if I desperately wanted it because it was my fault I did not check in early in the first place. And second, I would never squeeze myself into a seat other than what is printed on my boarding pass! Just because he got in first does not give him the right to pick a window seat of his choice, slither into it and refuse to leave when the designated owner has arrived. In my opinion, he refused to leave because it was convenient for him...which, in turn, was inconvenient for me. It's a simple matter of good manners, respect for others and proper discipline. You don't take what's not yours. It's like when I was in Korea and I remember one of our companions asked our tour guide "Do you have squatters here in Korea?" The tour guide looked puzzled and asked what squatters were. When he was given an explanation, his response still rings in my head vividly: "Why would anyone want to do that?"
And just so you know, I ended up sitting in the middle, almost smothered by two guys. And did I mention I was completely robbed of armrests?
*****
Watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire last week and left the theater beaming. HP4 made up for all the shortcomings of its predecessors, especially the first two movies. The direction was "bloody" brilliant as well as the cinematic shots. As promised, the movie was a lot darker. Despite the minor deviations from the book, I was all too glad the script preserved JK Rowling's (sometimes acerbic) sense of humor. I was just a little miffed that they did not even show how Krum, Fleur and Cedric hurdled the first task. I also found myself counting how many lines the other champions had, aside from the incantations. Fleur had four but the other two were just repititions of what she had said in the earlier scenes.Cedric had the most lines (naturally!) while Krum only had two (sniff, sniff)...in fact, the last line was rather negligible because he was whispering it to Hermione's ear. On second thought, as described in the book, Krum was the exact opposite of vociferous which added to his good bad boy appeal. Did I mention his eyes?
The theater was packed with high school students, majority of which were from my sister's old high school. It was like being in a screamfest. First time Malfoy came up onscreen, the theater was barraged by an onslaught of girlish screams I could swear I saw fissures issue from the wall all around us like a network of messy cables. It was like being in grade school and watching Casper all over again (those Devon Sawa days) only this time, the screaming was more sporadic in nature (Cedric was a runner-up). My favorite characters in the film were Krum, Ron with his unparalleled squealing and the Weasley twins who, in my opinion, romp away with being the best scene stealers ever.
*****
Movies in my "To Watch" list:
1. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
2. Sayuri
3. Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros
4. Welcome to Dongmakgol
Speaking of exciting turn of events enough to flip my eyelids backwards, Garci's wife Grace (who I have to give credit for living up to every letter of her name...it's not easy being the better half of THE most-wanted man in the country today) denies that Garci placed a single finger or toe outside the country. Yeah, I roll my eyeballs in disgust. Probably the talk of him doing his own hyperextended version of Jules Verne's classic could have been stretched to some point but him not leaving the country? I know the Philippines has 7,107 islands (and, as we all have memorized by now, even more during low tide), making it perhaps one of the best places in the world to play hide-and-seek next to Antarctica. The Singaporean government has acknowledged that GMA's phone pal had indeed entered its territory and between Lee Kwan Yu's progeny and Garci's better half, the choice as to who I should believe is rather obvious. Besides, if Garci had never left the country, somehow, someone would have gotten to him earlier than now. I have firm faith in our chismax network and noses which could sniff better than the K9s which have become a staple sight in malls. Besides, Garci would not be particularly difficult to single out when in the crowd...except when he's with politicians because by then, they would all reek of the same stench - the people's tears.
*****
GMA was in Busan, South Korea last week for the APEC. She met with Bush, who is also in the same politically tense situation as her in his home country. She also met Korea's president and prepared to discuss several key issues with him regarding governance, especially since Korea is regarded to one of the world's model nations in terms of development and stability.
I was with my dad and we blurted out the same thing: "Be serious about dealing with corruption and start cleaning up your act!" I am curious though as to what the South Korean leader said to her.
*****
My two nieces gave me an interesting "gift" before I left last weekend. Handwritten in pencil on a piece of paper torn off a nine-year old's notebook were the lyrics to Sugarfree's "Makita Kang Muli." Seems like they both wanted me to learn the song since they would spontaneously launch into a duet, crooning the now-familiar "Ohhhhhh..." opening just about anywhere. As I am writing this now, I am singing the extremely addictive "Ohhhhhh" in my head.
Speaking of addictive, I also find myself singing "Pamparampampam" from Kitchie Nadal's version of "Love Ko 'To" minus the fries.
*****
In other music news, Wang Lee Hom, my bane if post-teen obsession with a musical genius were a serious sin, is putting the finishing touches on his new album, which I heard was going to consist of mostly English songs, thus putting a temporary halt on my struggle with Pinyin lyrics. I read that he collaborated with Korea's pop icon Bi (Rain) which would seriously cause some serious stir in the music scene. Personally, I have gone by unaffected by Bi's charms. The guy is a fantastic dancer but I have more proclivity towards watching him rather than listening to him. He's smooth on the dancefloor but has yet to convince me of his singing prowess. Lee Hom, on the other hand, is first and foremost a musician despite all the slashes added to his name, and a rather multifarious one at that. It would be rather interesting to see how his work with Bi would take fruit.
*****
There's something I don't understand about people in airplanes. Whenever I take a flight, I always make sure that I request for a window seat. I am not exactly claustrophobic but I am not a fan of heights. When the airplane does its usual drops in any part of the flight, I tighten my tummy and look out the window because it gives me comfort to know what's going on outside. But if the plane runs out of window seats, that is absolutely fine with me.
What really gets the little furnace in my head roaring is when I walk into the plane, look for my seat and find that someone (and that someone is always older than me by at least fifteen years) is already seated conveniently in my seat. This happened on my flight home. I found a guy in his 40s already squeezed into the window seat I had requested so I asked him politely to give me my seat. He half-stood up, hesitated and then sat down which totally left me flabbergasted...and my temple throbbing. He asked if he could stay there and naturally, though floored, I could not say "no." Call me selfish or what but that was just unfair. If he were a senior citizen and looked a quarter of Dumbledore's age, I would have relented without a whine but he looked pretty healthy enough...and his appetite during the flight was a manifestation of it too. In the first place, I would never ever ask someone for a window seat even if I desperately wanted it because it was my fault I did not check in early in the first place. And second, I would never squeeze myself into a seat other than what is printed on my boarding pass! Just because he got in first does not give him the right to pick a window seat of his choice, slither into it and refuse to leave when the designated owner has arrived. In my opinion, he refused to leave because it was convenient for him...which, in turn, was inconvenient for me. It's a simple matter of good manners, respect for others and proper discipline. You don't take what's not yours. It's like when I was in Korea and I remember one of our companions asked our tour guide "Do you have squatters here in Korea?" The tour guide looked puzzled and asked what squatters were. When he was given an explanation, his response still rings in my head vividly: "Why would anyone want to do that?"
And just so you know, I ended up sitting in the middle, almost smothered by two guys. And did I mention I was completely robbed of armrests?
*****
Watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire last week and left the theater beaming. HP4 made up for all the shortcomings of its predecessors, especially the first two movies. The direction was "bloody" brilliant as well as the cinematic shots. As promised, the movie was a lot darker. Despite the minor deviations from the book, I was all too glad the script preserved JK Rowling's (sometimes acerbic) sense of humor. I was just a little miffed that they did not even show how Krum, Fleur and Cedric hurdled the first task. I also found myself counting how many lines the other champions had, aside from the incantations. Fleur had four but the other two were just repititions of what she had said in the earlier scenes.Cedric had the most lines (naturally!) while Krum only had two (sniff, sniff)...in fact, the last line was rather negligible because he was whispering it to Hermione's ear. On second thought, as described in the book, Krum was the exact opposite of vociferous which added to his good bad boy appeal. Did I mention his eyes?
The theater was packed with high school students, majority of which were from my sister's old high school. It was like being in a screamfest. First time Malfoy came up onscreen, the theater was barraged by an onslaught of girlish screams I could swear I saw fissures issue from the wall all around us like a network of messy cables. It was like being in grade school and watching Casper all over again (those Devon Sawa days) only this time, the screaming was more sporadic in nature (Cedric was a runner-up). My favorite characters in the film were Krum, Ron with his unparalleled squealing and the Weasley twins who, in my opinion, romp away with being the best scene stealers ever.
*****
Movies in my "To Watch" list:
1. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
2. Sayuri
3. Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros
4. Welcome to Dongmakgol
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