05.18.09 (backfire)

oh-khay, i admit. i made a mistake. i went out last weekend with ronnie, karen, mark, jun, grace and rizelle (tama ba?). ate at big buddha and i almost drowned in red iced tea. bummed around time zone waiting for kids to run out of money so we can go inside the videoke room. and finally, watched "angels and demons". after seeing "the da vinci code", i assumed that the next film will suck. i mean, really suck. and then i finally got to see it.


now i am reminded to always make the words coming out of my mouth sweet, just in case i have to take them back. it was gooood... i mean, there are some inconsistensies but if you look at the film alone, it's very impressive. ugh! these things pain me...

or maybe because i've read the novel a couple of years back and that made the film ok for me...

05.08.09 (catatonic)

ok, let's start this ranting:

this is the new book i am reading courtesy of jeff. i read perhaps 20-30 pages a day, then my mind goes blank. it's not like i'm reading umberto eco and my mind shuts down because i cant make out his metaphors, but something like every character introduced gets summarily executed, or worse, tortured in various creative manners.

it has a very interesting plot though. the story revolves around rudolf hess, adolf hitler's deputy in the nazi party during world war II and his mysterious flight to scotland in the year 1941. after being detained by the four powers (us, uk, soviet union and france) in berlin's spandau prison for ages, he dies with an electric chord tied around his neck.

in the novel, hess, who was known as prisoner #7 and the last of the prisoners of spandau prison was a double. he left a cryptic letter narrating the events as well as the reason for the trip to scotland and how his confession can change history as we know it.

i am now torn between reading the historical account first so at least i know what happened (this is utterly debatable, of course) and finishing the blasted novel so i can move on with my reading list. decisions, decisions, decisions...

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i finally got to watch x-men origins: wolverine. i liked the action part of it. the effects are totally awesome. but the story was quite boring. i'm not really an avid fan so i haven't read the comics yet but i think marvel could've done better. i especially cringed when logan found kayla dead and the camera zoomed out on him, with him holding the love of his life and screaming at the top of his lungs.

so why did i bother? here's why...

'nuf said...

04.30.09 (trapped inside the bell jar)

I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next day had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue.

~Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

04.27.09 (i'm not even trying)

i don't think that i'd make up for yesterday. i have nothing to say except that i finished "bel canto" and i don't have energy left picking up another book. (but i did anyways, but that's a different story.) overall, this is how i feel about the book:

i have touched calm in my hands and it is as tender as a kiss.

04.25.09 (bel canto)

i didn't actually hear the music nor the beautiful singing... i just knew it must've been something like the sound i hear when i feel the sunrise touch my face in the morning, or when i get soaked in the rain in the middle of summer...

"When the lights went off the accompanist kissed her. Maybe he had been turning towards her just before it was completely dark, maybe he was lifting his hands. There must have been some movement, a gesture, because every person in the living room would later remember a kiss. They did not see a kiss, that would have been impossible. The darkness that came on them was startling and complete. Not only was everyone there certain of a kiss, they claimed they could identify the type of kiss: it was strong and passionate, and it took her by surprise. They were all looking right at her when the lights went out. They were still applauding, each on his or her feet, still in the fullest throes of hands slapping together, elbows up. Not one person had come anywhere close to tiring. The Italians and the French were yelling, "Brava! Brava!" and the Japanese turned away from them. Would he have kissed her like that had the room been lit? Was his mind so full of her that in the very instant of darkness he reached for her, did he think so quickly? Or was it that they wanted her too, all of the men and women in the room, and so they imagined it collectively. They were so taken by the beauty of her voice that they wanted to cover her mouth with their mouth, drink in. Maybe music could be transferred, devoured, owned. What would it mean to kiss the lips that had held such a sound?"

i am halfway through ann patchett's "bel canto" and all i can say is that this is how it must be like listening to an opera. the book talks about a hostage situation, but my heart would not thump the way it is supposed to when reading suspense. no, this book is not about suspense. the most famous soprano kidnapped, a vice-president hit on the face, a french ambassador making an unauthorized call to his wife, a soldier's faith crumbling... no suspense there but music. i cannot believe how the author can narrate her story like chopin would touch the keys of a piano. i read the words like i'm making love.

i thought love affairs never last that long. i rediscovered the one i had with books... my passion has been rekindled.

04.19.09 (lazy sunday)

oh-kay, i missed one day... but at least i intended to write so...

anyway, because i was frustrated for not being able to go to penguin, i had to drag ronnie to a bar, any bar.
for some reason, i just wanted to drink. he asked his friend and an aquaintance of mine, jun to join us, as well as his "kambal" mark whom i've only met on multiply.


the result? one fun fun fun night.
i got to eat frog's legs for the first time. and like what others say, yeah, it tastes pretty much like chicken...
______________________________
oh... and i got to finish one book... not the great literature i have in mind but i'm desperate to get my reading back on track. *tap at the back*

relapse...

***saw my college friends yesterday and for some reason we were reading each other children's books. ardee read us this... it made me cringe... now i feel like crap...***

Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney

Little Nutbrown Hare, who was going to bed, held on tight to Big Nutbrown Hare's very long ears. He wanted to be sure that Big Nutbrown Hare was listening.

"Guess how much I love you," he said.

"Oh, I don't think I could guess that," said Big Nutbrown Hare.

"This much," said Little Nutbrown Hare, stretching out his arms as wide as they could go.

Big Nutbrown Hare had even longer arms. "But I love YOU this much," he said.

Hmm, that is a lot, thought Little Nutbrown Hare.

"I love you as high as I can reach." said Little Nutbrown Hare.

"I love you as high as I can reach," said Big Nutbrown Hare.

That is quite high, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. I wish I had arms like that.

Then Little Nutbrown Hare had a good idea. He tumbled upside down and reached up the tree trunk with his feet.

"I love you all the way up to my toes!" he said.

"And I love you all the way up to your toes," said Big Nutbrown Hare, swinging him up over his head.

"I love you as high as I can HOP!" laughed Little Nutbrown Hare, bouncing up and down.

"But I love you as high as I can hop," smiled Big Nutbrown Hare - and he hopped so high that his ears touched the branches above.

That's good hopping, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. I wish I could hop like that.

"I love you all the way down the lane as far as the river," cried Little Nutbrown Hare.

"I love you across the river and over the hills," said Big Nutbrown Hare.

That's very far, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. He was almost too sleepy to think any more. Then he looked beyond the thorn bushes, out into the big dark night. Nothing could be further than the sky.

"I love you right up to the MOON," he said, and closed his eyes.

"Oh, that's far," said Big Nutbrown Hare. "That is very, very far."

Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves. He leaned over and kissed him good night.

Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile, "I love you right up to the moon - AND BACK."

my legend...

if only all people would think like paulo coelho, then this world would be a better place...

"what is a personal calling? it is God's blessing, it is the path that God chose for you here on earth. whenever we do something that fills us with enthusiasm, we are following our legend. however, we don't all have the courage to confront our own dream.

"why?

"there are four obstacles. first: we are told from childhood onward that everything we want to do is impossible. we grow up with this idea, and as years accumulate, so too do the layers of prejudice, fear and guilt. there comes a time when our personal calling is so deeply buried in our soul as to be invisible. but it is still there.

"if we have the courage to disinter dream, we are then faced by the second obstacle: love. we know what we want to do, but are afraid of hurting those around us by abandoning everything in order to pursue the dream. we do not realize that love is just a further impetus, not something that will prevent us from going forward. we do not realize that those who genuinely wish us well want us to be happy and are prepared to accompany us on our journey.

"once we have accepted that love is a stimulus, we come up against the third obstacle: fear of the defeats we will meet on the path. we who fight for our dream suffer far more when it doesn't work out, because we cannot fall back on the old excuse" "oh well, i didn't really want it anyway." we do want it and know that we have staked everything on it and that the path of the personal calling is no easier than any other path, except that our whole heart is in their journey. then, we warriors of light must be prepared to have patience in difficult times and to know that the universe in conspiring in our favor, even though we may not understand how.

"i ask myself: are defeats necessary?

"well, necessary or not, they happen. when we first begin fighting for our dream, we have no experience and make many mistakes. the secret of life, though, is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.

"so, why is it so important to live our personal calling if we are only going to suffer more than other people?

"because, once we have overcome the defeats - and we always do - we are filled by a greater sense of euphoria and confidence. in the silence of our hearts, we know we are proving ourselves worthy of the miracle of life. each day, each hour, is part of the good fight. we start to live with enthusiasm and pleasure. intense, unexpected suffering passes more quickly than suffering that is apparently bearable; the latter goes on for years and, without our noticing, eats away at our soul, until one day, we are no longer able to free ourselves from the bitterness and it stays with us for the rest of our lives.

"having disinterred our dream, having used the power of love to nurture it and spent many years living with the scars, we suddenly notice that what we always wanted is there, waiting for us, perhaps the very next day. then comes the fourth obstacle: the fear of realizing the dream for which we fought all our lives.

"oscar wilde said: "each man kills the thing he loves." and it's true. the mere possibility of getting what we want fills the soul of the ordinary person with guilt. we look around at all those who have failed to get what they want and feel that we do not deserve to get what we want either. we forget about all the obstacles we overcame, all the suffering we endured, all the things we had to give up in order to get this far. i have known people who, when their personal calling was within their grasp, went on to commit a series of stupid mistakes and never reached their goal - when it was only a step away.

"this is the most dangerous of the obstacles because it has a kind of saintly aura about it: renouncing joy and conquest. but if you believe yourself worthy of the thing you fought so hard to get, then you become an instrument of God, you help the soul of the world, and you understand why you are here."

~paulo coelho
rio de janeiro
nov2002
translated by margaret jull costa
quoted from "the alchemist"

if you forget me

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.


~pablo neruda

Good morning, on July 7

Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all - Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits - Yes, unhappily it must be so - You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never - Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life - Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men - At my age I need a steady, quiet life - can that be so in our connection? My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day - therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once - Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together - Be calm - love me - today - yesterday - what tearful longings for you - you - you - my life - my all - farewell. Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.

ever thine
ever mine
ever ours

~Ludwig Van Beethoven 1827

your silence, and perhaps mine...

"when you come down, nothing seems worth saying, nothing at all. you find the nothingness wrapping you up, like a sound. non-being. you can't keep it up, of course. the world rushes in soon enough. what shuts you up, i think, the sight you've had of perfection: why speak if you can't manage perfect thoughts, perfect sentences? it feels like a betrayal of what you've been through. but it fades, you accept that certain compromises, closures, are required if you're to continue."

~allie in salman rushdie's "the satanic verses"

revisited

i just thought i'd start off with the books i read, have been reading, and will probably read when i feel indifferent, or cranky at life in general. i always recommend books to my students and i'm glad i'd catch them after a day or two leafing through the books that inspire people and change lives. now, i'm not too big on self-help and do-it-or-fail-in-life texts. i just think that all beings are unique and while a particular outlook may change one's life considerably, it may not work for others. on the other hand, i love novels that inspire. the lessons are subtly imposed. it is by the process of literary exposition that readers learn of the morals these stories want to impart. or maybe i just hate being taught what to do.
i remember receiving a christmas gift from my coordinator from one of the schools i used to work in. it was "the purpose driven life." i was thankful, at the same time offended. i never thought anybody would think that i haven't found my purpose. well, maybe i haven't yet... but i'll get there. and i will get life's lessons through my mistakes and achievements and of course, vicarious experiences.


"the alchemist" by paolo coelho
"when your heart truly desires something, the whole universe conspires to help you achieve that thing, simply because it is a desire that originated from the soul of the world."

"…at that moment, it seemed to him that time stood still and the Soul of the World surged within him. whe he looked into her dark eyes, and saw that her lips were poised between laugh and silence, he learned the most important part of the language that all the world spoke- the language that everyone on earth was capable of understanding in their heart. it was love. something older than humanity, more ancient than the desert. something that exerted the same force whenever two eyes met, as had theirs here at the well. she smiled, and that was certainy an omen- the omen he had been waiting, whithout even knowing he was, for all his life. the omen he had sought to find with his sheep and in his books, in the crystals and in the silence of the desert.

"it was the pure Language of the World. it required no explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through endless time. what the boy felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for words, she recognized the same thing. he was more certain of it than of anything in the world. he had been told by his parents and grandparents that he must fall in love and really know a person before becoming committed. but maybe people who felt that way had never learned the universal language. because, when you know that language, it’s easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether its in the middle of the desert or in some great city. and when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. there is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. it is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. without such love, one’s dreams would have no meaning."

"the name of the rose" by umberto eco

"…the truth is that I “saw” the girl, I saw her in the
branches of the bare tree that stirred lightly when a benumbed sparrow flew to
seek refuge there; I saw her in the eyes of the heifers that come out of the
bard, and I heard her in the bleating of the sheep that crossed my erratic
path. It was as if all creation spoke to me of her, and I desired to see her
again, true, but I was also prepared to accept the idea of never seeing her
again, and of never lying again with her, provided that I could savor the joy
that filled me that morning, and have her always near even if she were to be,
and for eternity, distant. It was, now I am trying to understand, as if- just
as the universe is surely like a book written by the finger of God, in which
everything speaks to us of the immense goodness of its Creator, in which every
creature is description and mirror of life and death, in which the humblest
rose becomes a gloss of our terrestrial progress- everything, in other words,
only of the face I had hardly glimpsed in the aromatic shadows of the kitchen.
I dwelled on these fantasies because I said to myself that if the whole world
is destined to speak to me of the power, goodness, and wisdom of the Creator,
and if that morning the whole world spoke to me of the girl, who was
nevertheless a chapter in the great book of creation, a verse of the great
psalm chanted by the cosmos- I said to myself that if this occurred, it could
only be a part of the great theopantic design that sustains the universe,
arranged like a lyre, miracle of consonance and harmony. As if intoxicated, I
then enjoyed her presence in the things I saw, and, desiring her in them, with
the sight of them I was sated.

"And yet I felt a kind of sorrow, because at the same time I
suffered from an absence, though I was happy with the many ghosts of a
presence…

"…now I know that good is cause of love and that which is
good is defined by knowledge, and you can only love what you have learned is
good , whereas I had, indeed, learned that the girl was the good of the
irascible appetite, but the evil of the will. But I was in the grip of so many
and such conflicting emotions, because what I felt was like the holiest love
just as the doctors describe it: it produced in me that ecstasy in which lover
and beloved want the same thing, and for her I felt I felt jealous, but not by
the evil kind, condemned by Paul in I Corinthians, but that which Dionysius
speaks of in the “The Divine Names” whereby God is also called jealous because
of the great love He feels for all creation. I was jealous in the way in which,
for the angelic doctor, jealousy is motus in amatum, the jealousy of
friendship, which inspires us to move against all that harms the beloved."~Adso of Melk

...more when i feel like it...