"Di ba sabi sayo ni God kayo? Bakit nangyari sayo 'to?"
(Didn't God tell you, you were going to be together? Why did this happen to you?)
I remember my best friend telling me that a few months ago. She, who recently declared that she no longer believes in religion or God, cares so much for me that I'm sure she did not state those words to offend God or my religion. It was an honest observation. Too honest in fact that I dreaded the day she will be saying this to my face.
But she did anyway. She had to. It was her being my friend. And this is also why I have always doubted telling her that the only reason I held on to him despite our complicated and seemingly unfair situation was that God wanted me to. She always had doubts with religion but she never questioned me for what I believed in.
Showing posts with label questions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label questions. Show all posts
Friday, July 22, 2011
Thursday, January 3, 2008
fireworks
(stories of the firecrackers, days before New Year’s Eve and a few notes on my Chinese heritage)
One thing I would always look forward to every Christmas season is sitting under a fireworks display with ashes falling on my head, as if the lights are showering over me, as if blessings are pouring from heaven and there I was, catching a few of its drops.
It has been five years now when I started making efforts to sit under the grand display and it has always brought me joy. But somehow things have started to change in ways I could not explain.
Maybe this was a mere product of routine, but when the fireworks started after the Lantern Parade, I dragged Karla in attempt to at least go under the display. Karla was screaming in awe. This may have been her first time to actually be that close.
I was looking at the lights and asked myself, why couldn’t I feel the same excitement and joy as I have felt for the past five years? I could hear Karla’s excitement and fear both at the same time, a similar expression I could see on my seven year old brother as he appreciated the lights but feared that exploding sound. I asked myself, has the child in me grew up that I no longer enjoy the same things I used to have?
Whatever the answer was, I no longer cared. Karla had enjoyed the fireworks, and so should I.
On the 30th of December, my parents brought the youth to Riverbanks, Marikina to enjoy the fireworks. We were to be in groups and decide for ourselves where to sit during the display. For two years now, Mayen, a fourteen year old girl, would accompany me, buy balot and look for a place under the fireworks display. Only the two of us would get satisfied with this form of enjoyment.
This time, Tintin accompanied us. Although we couldn’t find any balot vendor that night, we bought chips instead and sat only a few meters away from where the fireworks were to be launched.
Tintin was shouting in excitement, her hands as if reaching for its lights. Mayen, with a big smile, was standing in awe of everything. There I was again looking up at everything. The lights were launched a bit low such that the ones faulty were actually coming towards us. Ashes were still in fires when it reached our heads. My eyes were starting to get irritated but I knew in my mind this was exactly what I liked most of being under the display.
I knew I had no expression of joy or excitement on my face. How can I be so unhappy? What was happening to me?
Whatever that feeling was, I wouldn’t want these two girls beside me feeling the same misery because of me. I stopped myself from asking and tried pretending to enjoy what I was watching.
Thoughts ran through my head for the next few hours. If there was one thing I learned this year, I realized that I can be as hard as my mind would want me to be. But why do I have to be so cold?
Come to think of it, I met so many people with different personalities this year, which is good. But as my mind moves forward to the more recent memories, most of the people I’ve met and had been close to this year were the ones who looked down on me and on the things I hold dear. These are the people who had forced me to be the being that I am now, incapable of feeling pity, compassion and guilt towards others.
I really don’t like to blame people for my misfortunes or anything of that sort. I can focus on the solution more than the problem itself but what should be the solution to patch up the feeling of affliction, disappointment, and distrust?
My dad woke me up early the evening of the 31st. I thought it was time for us to go to my grandfather’s house for New Year’s Eve. Realizing that it was too early, my dad really wanted us to spend some time at the church and do some “fireworks”. Although I knew the fireworks he was referring to were just those crappy little rockets he bought at Divisoria, I felt I forced enough to accompany my family.
Along with the cell group leaders, we had coffee, had a few talks and went out on the street to start our “fireworks display”. The guys launched the rockets and lighted a mini- sinturon ni Hudas (Judas’ belt).
I’ve always hated that sinturon ni Hudas. It’s nothing but a dangerous, loud firecracker. And since the Chinese believe in welcoming the New Year with a loud noise, the sinturon was my grandfather’s way of fulfilling the Chinese tradition.
Yes, I have some Chinese heritage in my blood that my cousins and I never really seem to enjoy. For one thing, not one of us got that yellowish white skin. Some of my relatives believe we were able to inherit the small Chinese eyes but only on the first five years of our lives. It must have expanded in a peculiar way that they were now unequally rounded and when we smile, it becomes small and stretches sideward with a few lines to give a tinge of those small Chinese eyes. If it weren’t for my extremely edited graduation pictures, I would have forgotten the thought I ever looked Chinese in my life.
At the same time, my grandfather believed in sukob, Chinese astrology and a few notes on feng shui, fill your house with circles and a noisy welcome on New Year’s Eve. How we dreaded the noise. The only good thing our generation could think of this Chinese heritage is that we may marry a member of a Chinese clan.
I teased my dad for even buying that sinturon, asking him if he never got tired of our annual 2000+ pieces dosage of that firecracker. He simply ignored me.
And since we girls couldn’t really enjoy the sinturon, we played with the watusi (dancing firecrackers) instead. I took a few packs, crossed the street to where my mom was sitting and started scratching a piece to the sidewalk.
I recall a principle included in the Montessori Method which states that a child is to be let alone to do his “work” as he pleases. Using the hands to touch the materials, the teacher must be very careful when intervening such that the child should not lose his concentration. Through this concentration, the child is solely focused on his work until he is satisfied. If the child loses the concentration needed to achieve the work and thus fails to do what he pleases, this can cause an emotional disturbance to the child.
I felt like a child in full concentration of my play that if disturbed will definitely be killing someone. I was a bit far from everyone else and I could hear some men shouting at me, “May batang naglalaro!” but I didn’t care. As I scratch the pieces on the cemented floor and glide my foot with the watusi under me, I felt satisfaction fill me.
A few minutes before midnight of New Year’s Eve, every member of the Agoncillo family went out to the balcony to witness that deafening sinturon being lighted up and explode. As we were waiting, we could see all the fireworks being launched that night. Given that my grandfather lived in Libis, Quezon City, we could see from his balcony even as far from those in Makati. My aunts were very much satisfied with the view as my cousin, Ian, kept taking pictures.
Given that I am one of the smallest in the family, I stayed on one side of the balcony away from where my aunts were watching. With my not-so-good view, only Johnny, my 2nd cousin, stayed beside me. A few times could we only see some firecrackers and they were near enough for me to see them clearly. I realized this time, I didn’t have to force myself to be happy. Maybe I don’t need to remind myself what the year has brought upon me. Life doesn’t always have to be the best. This time, I don’t need to be near the lights to appreciate its beauty.
My grandfather signaled the maid to light the sinturon. The sound was bouncing to the walls of the pelota court which made it even more deafening. My grandfather’s sisters were covering theirs ears with satisfaction as the sounds were believed to be driving the evil omens away. My grandfather sat on a bench staring at the little red lights the crackers were making. My grandmother held onto the rails of the balcony. After her stroke around six years ago, she was partially deaf and at a time like this, my cousins envied her for not hearing the noise.
(My cousins) Donna was able to slip inside the house. Andrew had earphones covering his ears, his eyes rolled a little from where the sinturon made the noise. Ian was still taking pictures, trying to ignore what was happening until my uncle, her dad, stopped her and made her look towards the sinturon. My mom brought me halfway downstairs, away from everyone else, hearing the sound louder than before. I covered my ears and looked as if I was hiding behind my mother.
I could hear the sinturon loud enough to know it was there and I know even we will be continuing the family tradition despite our hatred of it. I will continue to live hearing it every New Year’s Eve.
Maybe I don’t have answers to all my questions now. Maybe the solution to this depression won’t be coming soon. Things will be better still. I will continue to live anticipating the day firecracker ashes fall upon me again. God will revive the meaning of life in me.
The thought gave me a momentary smile as the sinturon made and even louder sound.
One thing I would always look forward to every Christmas season is sitting under a fireworks display with ashes falling on my head, as if the lights are showering over me, as if blessings are pouring from heaven and there I was, catching a few of its drops.
It has been five years now when I started making efforts to sit under the grand display and it has always brought me joy. But somehow things have started to change in ways I could not explain.
Maybe this was a mere product of routine, but when the fireworks started after the Lantern Parade, I dragged Karla in attempt to at least go under the display. Karla was screaming in awe. This may have been her first time to actually be that close.
I was looking at the lights and asked myself, why couldn’t I feel the same excitement and joy as I have felt for the past five years? I could hear Karla’s excitement and fear both at the same time, a similar expression I could see on my seven year old brother as he appreciated the lights but feared that exploding sound. I asked myself, has the child in me grew up that I no longer enjoy the same things I used to have?
Whatever the answer was, I no longer cared. Karla had enjoyed the fireworks, and so should I.
On the 30th of December, my parents brought the youth to Riverbanks, Marikina to enjoy the fireworks. We were to be in groups and decide for ourselves where to sit during the display. For two years now, Mayen, a fourteen year old girl, would accompany me, buy balot and look for a place under the fireworks display. Only the two of us would get satisfied with this form of enjoyment.
This time, Tintin accompanied us. Although we couldn’t find any balot vendor that night, we bought chips instead and sat only a few meters away from where the fireworks were to be launched.
Tintin was shouting in excitement, her hands as if reaching for its lights. Mayen, with a big smile, was standing in awe of everything. There I was again looking up at everything. The lights were launched a bit low such that the ones faulty were actually coming towards us. Ashes were still in fires when it reached our heads. My eyes were starting to get irritated but I knew in my mind this was exactly what I liked most of being under the display.
I knew I had no expression of joy or excitement on my face. How can I be so unhappy? What was happening to me?
Whatever that feeling was, I wouldn’t want these two girls beside me feeling the same misery because of me. I stopped myself from asking and tried pretending to enjoy what I was watching.
Thoughts ran through my head for the next few hours. If there was one thing I learned this year, I realized that I can be as hard as my mind would want me to be. But why do I have to be so cold?
Come to think of it, I met so many people with different personalities this year, which is good. But as my mind moves forward to the more recent memories, most of the people I’ve met and had been close to this year were the ones who looked down on me and on the things I hold dear. These are the people who had forced me to be the being that I am now, incapable of feeling pity, compassion and guilt towards others.
I really don’t like to blame people for my misfortunes or anything of that sort. I can focus on the solution more than the problem itself but what should be the solution to patch up the feeling of affliction, disappointment, and distrust?
My dad woke me up early the evening of the 31st. I thought it was time for us to go to my grandfather’s house for New Year’s Eve. Realizing that it was too early, my dad really wanted us to spend some time at the church and do some “fireworks”. Although I knew the fireworks he was referring to were just those crappy little rockets he bought at Divisoria, I felt I forced enough to accompany my family.
Along with the cell group leaders, we had coffee, had a few talks and went out on the street to start our “fireworks display”. The guys launched the rockets and lighted a mini- sinturon ni Hudas (Judas’ belt).
I’ve always hated that sinturon ni Hudas. It’s nothing but a dangerous, loud firecracker. And since the Chinese believe in welcoming the New Year with a loud noise, the sinturon was my grandfather’s way of fulfilling the Chinese tradition.
Yes, I have some Chinese heritage in my blood that my cousins and I never really seem to enjoy. For one thing, not one of us got that yellowish white skin. Some of my relatives believe we were able to inherit the small Chinese eyes but only on the first five years of our lives. It must have expanded in a peculiar way that they were now unequally rounded and when we smile, it becomes small and stretches sideward with a few lines to give a tinge of those small Chinese eyes. If it weren’t for my extremely edited graduation pictures, I would have forgotten the thought I ever looked Chinese in my life.
At the same time, my grandfather believed in sukob, Chinese astrology and a few notes on feng shui, fill your house with circles and a noisy welcome on New Year’s Eve. How we dreaded the noise. The only good thing our generation could think of this Chinese heritage is that we may marry a member of a Chinese clan.
I teased my dad for even buying that sinturon, asking him if he never got tired of our annual 2000+ pieces dosage of that firecracker. He simply ignored me.
And since we girls couldn’t really enjoy the sinturon, we played with the watusi (dancing firecrackers) instead. I took a few packs, crossed the street to where my mom was sitting and started scratching a piece to the sidewalk.
I recall a principle included in the Montessori Method which states that a child is to be let alone to do his “work” as he pleases. Using the hands to touch the materials, the teacher must be very careful when intervening such that the child should not lose his concentration. Through this concentration, the child is solely focused on his work until he is satisfied. If the child loses the concentration needed to achieve the work and thus fails to do what he pleases, this can cause an emotional disturbance to the child.
I felt like a child in full concentration of my play that if disturbed will definitely be killing someone. I was a bit far from everyone else and I could hear some men shouting at me, “May batang naglalaro!” but I didn’t care. As I scratch the pieces on the cemented floor and glide my foot with the watusi under me, I felt satisfaction fill me.
A few minutes before midnight of New Year’s Eve, every member of the Agoncillo family went out to the balcony to witness that deafening sinturon being lighted up and explode. As we were waiting, we could see all the fireworks being launched that night. Given that my grandfather lived in Libis, Quezon City, we could see from his balcony even as far from those in Makati. My aunts were very much satisfied with the view as my cousin, Ian, kept taking pictures.
Given that I am one of the smallest in the family, I stayed on one side of the balcony away from where my aunts were watching. With my not-so-good view, only Johnny, my 2nd cousin, stayed beside me. A few times could we only see some firecrackers and they were near enough for me to see them clearly. I realized this time, I didn’t have to force myself to be happy. Maybe I don’t need to remind myself what the year has brought upon me. Life doesn’t always have to be the best. This time, I don’t need to be near the lights to appreciate its beauty.
My grandfather signaled the maid to light the sinturon. The sound was bouncing to the walls of the pelota court which made it even more deafening. My grandfather’s sisters were covering theirs ears with satisfaction as the sounds were believed to be driving the evil omens away. My grandfather sat on a bench staring at the little red lights the crackers were making. My grandmother held onto the rails of the balcony. After her stroke around six years ago, she was partially deaf and at a time like this, my cousins envied her for not hearing the noise.
(My cousins) Donna was able to slip inside the house. Andrew had earphones covering his ears, his eyes rolled a little from where the sinturon made the noise. Ian was still taking pictures, trying to ignore what was happening until my uncle, her dad, stopped her and made her look towards the sinturon. My mom brought me halfway downstairs, away from everyone else, hearing the sound louder than before. I covered my ears and looked as if I was hiding behind my mother.
I could hear the sinturon loud enough to know it was there and I know even we will be continuing the family tradition despite our hatred of it. I will continue to live hearing it every New Year’s Eve.
Maybe I don’t have answers to all my questions now. Maybe the solution to this depression won’t be coming soon. Things will be better still. I will continue to live anticipating the day firecracker ashes fall upon me again. God will revive the meaning of life in me.
The thought gave me a momentary smile as the sinturon made and even louder sound.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
just asking
problem:
they say there are two things a man gives to show how important a girl is to him, time and money. these are two investments that needs to be watched out (according to ate mai).
question:
what if a man gives you time and another spends money for you, which one would you choose?
conclusion:
the one who gives time. money can be earned again. time lost can never be retrieved.
recommendation:
never watch a love story and then do a sort of realization.
disclaimer:
sorry. just seen One More Chance. however, question does not apply. hehe.
they say there are two things a man gives to show how important a girl is to him, time and money. these are two investments that needs to be watched out (according to ate mai).
question:
what if a man gives you time and another spends money for you, which one would you choose?
conclusion:
the one who gives time. money can be earned again. time lost can never be retrieved.
recommendation:
never watch a love story and then do a sort of realization.
disclaimer:
sorry. just seen One More Chance. however, question does not apply. hehe.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
extrajudicial killings in The Interpreter
My dad bought a 12-in-one DVD from Divisoria yesterday. When he had intended to have bought a Charlie Chaplin collection, the DVD ended up to be a Nicole Kidman collection. One of Kidman's movies included in the disk was The Interpreter (2005).
In the movie, Dr. Edmond Zuwanie is the president of the Republic of Matobo, a fictional country in Africa. Ruling for more than 20 years, Dr. Zuwanie had allegedly killed hundreds of citizen and revolutionaries to maintain power. He planned an assasination plot to justify the killings.
Silvia Broome, played by Nicole Kidman, is an interpreter for the United Nations. A citizen of Matobo whose family actively participate in the arm struggle and were killed as ordered by Dr. Zuwanie, she too, once a revolutionary and left to work for UN believing that there are peaceful means to achieve the same cause. She overhears the plot to kill the hated dictator and tells US security. When her brother gets killed, she takes on arms once more in attempt to kill the dictator herself.
The last few scenes in the movie shows Dr. Zuwanie in a sort of safe room with Broome and Tobin Keller, a federal agent played by Sean Penn. Keller begs Broome not to kill Dr. Zhumie such that evidence exist of the dictator's ill actions and that he will surely be tried for his ill actions. True enough, in the end Dr. Zuwanie gets tried by the United Nations for the death of hundreds of citizen.
So the United Nations can get itself involved? And a leader can really be tried for extrajudicial killings? Or I'm just being too hopeful in getting justice to all these inhumanity happening to the revolutionaries, reformists and innocent citizens of this country?
But then, even if this movie truly proposes a possible resolution to the extrajudicial killings, should I even bother to be hopeful when the United Nations is still in fact United States with small voices around him. When the Philippine president is known to have good ties with international leaders specifically the US president, will the idea even have a chance. Keeping in mind that US does not recognize the idea of state terrorism that leaders may actually be the ones inciting terror in order to stay in power, that through this present president, resources in the Philippines have been, are, and will be exploited by foreign investors that will benefit their own development, is there still space for a hopeful change in the system?
Silvia Broome, from revolutionary, chose to be a reformist but still saw the need for arm struggle. Should this administration wait until reformists lose hope and join the revolution to bring change to this country? Anyway, as the cliche goes, the president is the biggest recruiter of NPA.
Idealism dictates that societal change can be achieved and unless this idealism will cease to exist, neither extrajudicial killings nor a balikatan exercise will ever stop people's attempts for change. I hope the president realizes that.
In the movie, Dr. Edmond Zuwanie is the president of the Republic of Matobo, a fictional country in Africa. Ruling for more than 20 years, Dr. Zuwanie had allegedly killed hundreds of citizen and revolutionaries to maintain power. He planned an assasination plot to justify the killings.
Silvia Broome, played by Nicole Kidman, is an interpreter for the United Nations. A citizen of Matobo whose family actively participate in the arm struggle and were killed as ordered by Dr. Zuwanie, she too, once a revolutionary and left to work for UN believing that there are peaceful means to achieve the same cause. She overhears the plot to kill the hated dictator and tells US security. When her brother gets killed, she takes on arms once more in attempt to kill the dictator herself.
The last few scenes in the movie shows Dr. Zuwanie in a sort of safe room with Broome and Tobin Keller, a federal agent played by Sean Penn. Keller begs Broome not to kill Dr. Zhumie such that evidence exist of the dictator's ill actions and that he will surely be tried for his ill actions. True enough, in the end Dr. Zuwanie gets tried by the United Nations for the death of hundreds of citizen.
“The gunfire around us makes it hard to hear; but the human voice is different from other sounds. It can be heard over noises that bury everything else, even when it’s not shouting, even when it’s just a whisper. Even the lowest whisper can be heard over armies when it’s telling the truth.”
So the United Nations can get itself involved? And a leader can really be tried for extrajudicial killings? Or I'm just being too hopeful in getting justice to all these inhumanity happening to the revolutionaries, reformists and innocent citizens of this country?
But then, even if this movie truly proposes a possible resolution to the extrajudicial killings, should I even bother to be hopeful when the United Nations is still in fact United States with small voices around him. When the Philippine president is known to have good ties with international leaders specifically the US president, will the idea even have a chance. Keeping in mind that US does not recognize the idea of state terrorism that leaders may actually be the ones inciting terror in order to stay in power, that through this present president, resources in the Philippines have been, are, and will be exploited by foreign investors that will benefit their own development, is there still space for a hopeful change in the system?
Silvia Broome, from revolutionary, chose to be a reformist but still saw the need for arm struggle. Should this administration wait until reformists lose hope and join the revolution to bring change to this country? Anyway, as the cliche goes, the president is the biggest recruiter of NPA.
Idealism dictates that societal change can be achieved and unless this idealism will cease to exist, neither extrajudicial killings nor a balikatan exercise will ever stop people's attempts for change. I hope the president realizes that.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
question
dahil sa movie marathon...
question: if you were to live for only three months more, what will you do?
answer: i will go bungee jumping and conquer my fear of heights!
question: if you were to live for only three months more, what will you do?
answer: i will go bungee jumping and conquer my fear of heights!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
question
Two missionaries from Canada asked me separately…
Question: so Martha, have you and Jonell been dating?
Answer: That’s very disturbing, you know. We practically grew together, to the point that I very well know his bad habits and it’s just disturbing, very impossible to happen.
* As much as anyone would seem to be excited for me to really start dating, I'd rather not be paired with a brother. Kuya Jonell is my older brother image and if another person asked me the same thing, I tell you, I will be postponing dating for another 10 years... hehehe
Question: so Martha, have you and Jonell been dating?
Answer: That’s very disturbing, you know. We practically grew together, to the point that I very well know his bad habits and it’s just disturbing, very impossible to happen.
* As much as anyone would seem to be excited for me to really start dating, I'd rather not be paired with a brother. Kuya Jonell is my older brother image and if another person asked me the same thing, I tell you, I will be postponing dating for another 10 years... hehehe
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