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Sunday, May 4, 2014

Strange

Hours ago, I learned about the untimely demise of Miko Ancheta, a fellow Atenean and a friend. He was only 21 years old. I met him through my college bestfriend, Renard. Aside from the fact that he was a passionate photographer and a devoted philosophy major, I knew nothing much about him. His death therefore comes as something that has filled me with a deep regret.

This begs the question: how can I possibly grieve for someone who I have never really gotten personally close to? In Albert Camus' The Stranger, a novel that I read a few weeks back, the protagonist, Meursault, is condemned for not being able to show any emotion at his mother's funeral. 

This stoic attitude is eventually used against him when he inexplicably shoots an Arab who has a conflict with one of Meursault's neighbors. Long story short, the protagonist, seeing life as absurd and void of meaning, is put to death under the guillotine. Meursault is judged, unfairly in my opinion, for something no one can fully explain, unless of course one resorts to an 'in-depth analysis' of his history.

But what I'm feeling right now is different. Unlike Meursault, I still feel a certain amount of sympathy for Ancheta and for the people that he's left behind. Perhaps Meursault is apathetic to tragedy and death because he embraces isolation way too much. I can understand that, at some level, for I never really got to know Miko that well. I have nothing that can truly and concretely justify anguish at his death. But unlike the stranger that is Meursault, this missed opportunity to build a solid friendship with Miko has not rendered me into a state of affectlessness, but has caused a feeling of sorrow.

I know, through some of my friends who were close to Miko, that he was a talented man who loves art, a bike-rider who has an unquenchable thirst for adventure, a loyal friend who cares so much for his buddies, and a loving boyfriend. I hate the fact that these characteristics are and will continue to be mere fragments to me. I had, in my three years of knowing Chet, every opportunity to build a more meaningful relationship with him. I regret how I made myself a stranger to him.

While writing this piece may very well be a futile attempt at putting together what never was, thank you Miko. I could have and should have known you better. Rest in peace.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Hopeful

Her name is Aurora Anita Z. Sarmiento, but everyone calls her Rainbow, a nickname given to her by her dad. Quite apt if you ask me, given that she provides color to a lot of people's lives. And yes, in the few months that I've known her, she's given me nothing less than a kaleidoscopic view of the world.

It's funny because we couldn't be any more different. In literary terms, she's a perfect foil for the dull and boring old me. I realized that from the get-go, seeing her and the bright wide smile she always wears, that she's nothing like me--a man who appears to have an all-too-serious dispositon (which kind of fades away once you get to know me, really). This being said, it comes as no surprise that I never imagined liking her, much less the two of us getting along.

But let's backtrack a bit more. Obviously, the life of single men revolves around playful chick-hunting, or as my best friend in college, Renard, likes to call it, spotting. I've never, as I should have, thought of this as something serious; it was, and still is, just a way to stave off boredom. So there we were, Renard and I, attending the general assembly of SPEED, a student org with an advocacy of helping special kids. I'm gonna be honest here. We joined not so much because we had an immediate inclination and/or a principled reason to join. As you might've already guessed, we joined because we thought that it was a good opportunity for us to 'spot' chicks, as our blockmate, Joni, was the org's president.

As we were sitting quietly at the back of the room where the assembly was held, Renard brushed my shoulder and started to check out Boey (Aurora's nickname's nickname. Haha!). As I've already suggested, I was not interested at first. With the mic on her hand, she introduced the area where she taught, and appeared to be, well, happy. In my mind, almost too happy, the kind of happy that borders on insanity. So when Renard told me that he's 'game' with her (which basically meant he found her cute), all I told him was 'pass.'

But she nonetheless caught my attention. Her smile was, and still is, very contagious. I struggled to constantly keep a straight face when she's around. Even when I'm successful in trying to keep my calm around her, I still felt my heart pound.

However, and I'm gonna point it out again, there's just no way the two of us would click. Plus, I kinda had a girl during that time so I thought it was all good. But, as the stupid old me usually goes about things, my actions indicated that she still caught my attention, albeit in a strange, inexplicable way. So, pursuant to the actions of kids nowadays, I added her on Facebook.

Then I realized we weren't really that disconnected. I kind of stalked her a little bit (Seryoso, konti lang naman. Haha!) and found out that her dad was actually my mama's boss in her first job. Mr. Sarmiento was even one of the ninongs in my mom's wedding. So I brought this up one day when we met in Joni's hubby's (Iggy's) car, being the kapalmuks that I am. Again, I thought of this as nothing but a trivial and interesting historical fact.

We then had constantly seen each other in school, which to me, only strengthened how I saw her as a complete opposition. She approached me one time, spunky as always, and verified that her dad remembers my mom in the old days. As a member of SPEED (or ex-member, since I failed to 'renew' my membership), I even went to her area (which I, by the way, truly enjoyed) just for the heck of it. But again, and I hate to sound like a broken record, I thought nothing of it.

After some time, I failed once again in trying to secure a real relationship. The girl I was 'in love' with apparently wasn't interested anymore. I contacted Renard immediately to drown all my sorrows in alcohol. As we, or at least he was enjoying our beers, he grabbed my phone and texted 'hi:)' to, you guessed it, Rainbow. I know right, Renard's truly a great friend. But to my surprise, Boey replied. One thing led to another and there we were, about to have a couple of drinks the next week with the girl I didn't care much about.

That day came. Renard, Boey, and I talked about the usual things I talk about with girls: hobbies, family, love life, the works. I didn't feel an ounce of nervousness that night. Aside from the fact that I kind of already was inebriated, I was, surprisingly, comfortable talking to her. Of course, once she smiled I still felt something weird in my chest, but the conversation per se went smoothly. That night, I knew I was blessed with a new friend.

So I asked her out again. This time, it would be just the two of us. But I didn't think of it as a date, more like a dinner with a friend. Plus I told her that next time (and this eventually took place), she's buying me ice cream. We talked again, this time, about her plans in the future. She told me that she wants to go to med school and I told her about my anxieties concerning my future. She made me realize who I was (or wasn't). I was the great pretender--someone who looks to suppress his feelings to maintain a no-nonsense persona. She told me, 'Alam ko 'yan. Yung parang okay lang sa labas pero may tinatago pala sa loob.'

It's surprising how someone totally different can know you more than you know yourself. I mean, even in our conversations, albeit very relaxing and comfortable, I can still sense our differences, be it in music, movies, and other things. But none of this really matters to me now; I've learned my lessons in the past. Just because someone likes the same weird shit as you do doesn't mean you're soulmates. If anything, our differences make me want to learn more about her. This opposition, to me, is exciting, evocative, and genuinely colorful.

Ever since our first friendly dates, I texted her more often. The thought of her made me smile, in a real, non-phony way. So after some days of SMS messaging, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I like her. Being the impulsive knucklehead that I am, I admitted my feelings to her immediately. I even gave her my blue rose, that traditional Atenean symbol of admiration. And by golly, I was surprised that she has a crush on me too.

Unexpected, that's what she is. When life brings surprises like this, when you let it run its course, it can be really magical. So here I go again. I hope this one turns out to be, you know, different. I hope the colors don't fade away.

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Thursday, April 10, 2014

The Color of Promise

Gone are the days of pretense
For surely I am still hurt
In a world where efficaciousness is of utmost importance

Where apprehension lurks
To you who brings color to my nights
Take me to a place where I can be
The promise; I will never hide



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Wednesday, April 2, 2014

The Pursuit

So yesterday I found out that I'm one of the 300 or so people who passed the Ateneo Law School entrance exam. I guess I should be satisfied, if not deeply exhilarated. Yet, two words, one question, bugged me after finding out that I'm one step closer to being a law student: what now?

I know, I know. You may think this isn't something worth talking about, considering how the obvious next step to take is to register, then attend the orientation seminar, and finally immerse myself in the troubling affairs of law school. But, in light of the uncertainties surrounding my future (which, by the way, I take very personally), this question remains to be significant. Deep down, I know that I'm still far from being mentally and emotionally prepared to delve into the study of law. In past blog posts, I've mentioned how sometimes I feel like I'm entering law school because it's my responsibility to continue a family legacy. I've asserted how I was, and probably still am, annoyed by suggestive comments about how being a lawyer is my destiny. Still grappling with these feelings, one thing is clear. I need an approach to life that I know would genuinely make me happy. And perhaps law school should not hinder me from achieving this elusive thing they call happiness.
...and it depends upon ourselves.
I need to understand that happiness is not merely a passive state or a feeling. It is a constant pursuit. Having read Aristotle's Ethics, I know how happiness, as the penultimate goal of man, can only be 'achieved' by living a life of virtue. I won't deal with the specifics, but being virtuous obviously involves acting in relation to other people. Upon seeing the list, I immediately called some of my college friends who passed, hoping to rekindle a relationship that is perhaps on the brink of being less solid after graduation. I saw some of my fellow Ateneans who visited ALS to check on the list so I struck up conversations with them. I even had a couple of beers with a college friend who was around the area. These things, which may seem trivial for some people, have nonetheless triggered a realization within me. Instead of being overly melodramatic about my future, I should continue to live life and build relationships.

Don't get me wrong. This isn't me saying that I've given up to the persuasions of the people saying that I should be a lawyer, and a successful one at that. My view of success is still from a perspective of someone constantly pursuing happiness. Instead of being a hindrance, however, I must look at law school as a stepping stone. It could actually be a chance for me to prove people wrong, given the fact that most lawyers, especially here in the country, are deeply disdained because of how they use their field to earn big bucks coming from not-so-decent clients.
Yup.
This is an opportunity for me, and my fellow aspirants, to be men and women who seek justice. My experiences in college, particularly those which involved helping the oppressed and the marginalized are things that I would carry with me through law school and for life. Not only should I build or strengthen relationships with colleagues, I must always remember to give priority to the voiceless who live in this world driven by a justice system which continues to serve those who are in power. With this approach of constantly pursuing true happiness, I hope and I know that I can recover from this current state of lethargy and start living life once again.

So there it goes. This knucklehead is going to law school.

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Sunday, March 16, 2014

On the Vision and the Riddle and The Black Nazarene

(Note: Saw this while organizing files in the computer. This brings back memories. Thank you, Fr. David!)


In the aphorism On the Vision and the Riddle of Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nietzsche introduces one of his most famous ideas, the eternal recurrence. By using a riddle which features a conversation between Zarathustra and a dwarf, the German philosopher implies that time is not necessarily a one-dimensional linear path. Rather, its circular and infinite nature allows one, more specifically the Ubermensch, to appreciate the present moment and to love life itself, not something disattached to it. In the same way, one can only truly appreciate the religious exercise that is the Black Nazarene if he or she veers away from dealing too much with the past or being apprehensive of what the future holds. Truly, this idea implies that the reason behind one’s will determines how one goes about in pursuing that same will.

Nietzsche


Understanding the aphorism


In the aphorism, Nietzsche writes that Zarathustra, still feeling despair because of the realization that his love for humanity is holding him back from being the superman, finds himself aboard a ship heading to the mountains. Here, he is joined by sailors and adventurers who “take long journeys and do not want to live without danger,” making it easier for Zarathustra to befriend them, consequently breaking the “ice of his heart,” which has kept him silent for two days (176). Speaking up, he tells a riddle involving himself and a dwarf on his shoulder. The latter mocks the former by claiming that even with Zarathustra’s ascension, there will be a point in time when, similar to the way the laws of physics act on a stone, he would fall. Zarathustra, in the riddle, confronts the dwarf using the courage he describes as a pride of humanity and even a slayer of death. In fact, Zarathustra proudly claims, “Was that life? Well then! Once more!” They then move into a gateway called “Moment.” Branching out from this point are two opposite paths; one infinitely stretching to the past while the other towards the future. However, Zarathustra argues that if these paths extend infinitely, then it would be logical to assume that the events of the present have already occurred, albeit in different forms, and will continue to recur in the future. Basically, Zarathustra points out that the two paths may possibly not be eternally antithetical after all. The aphorism ends quite oddly, with a shepherd biting off the head of a snake which was choking him.


Now, it seems necessary to look into what this aphorism offers in terms of the feast of the Black Nazarene. Yes, Nietzsche comes up with this brilliant way of thinking about the relationship of time and being, but what does it all mean? More importantly, how can one apply such philosophy in trying to achieve the state of the overman?


Of course, it has been proven scientifically that the concept of the eternal return cannot physically take place. Case in point, the whole idea of the eternal recurrence is founded on the assumption that time is infinite, which, based on the laws of physics, is mathematically unsound. Time is actually finite in a sense that it should have a beginning, for if time extended back in an infinite amount of time, then the time it would take to reach the present would also be infinite. Hence, time must have a beginning for the present to even exist. The end of time, of course, is another issue still open for debate within the scientific community. Also, the doctrine falls into another scientific pit, for it is also proven by the likes of Georg Simmel (who used three wheels in an axis to prove that given an infinite amount of time, the lining up of the wheels could never take place again), that no similar thing can recur. So as not to dwell too much in this scientific analysis, one must also question the intent of Nietzsche in proposing such idea. Should this idea be even examined only on its scientific validity and bearing? Or is it more plausible to look at the doctrine in an existential perspective?

Thus Spoke Zarathustra: A Book for None and All

If the answer to the last question is in the affirmative, then it becomes necessary to look at the other dimension involved in the aphorism--one that does not focus on the theory of the eternal return alone, but also takes into account the context in which the idea operates. Thus, one must look at how Nietzsche approaches the themes, characters, and dynamics of the riddle while at the same time incorporating the whole eternal return concept. 

Of course, the half-dwarf, half-mole creature is key to the development of the eternal recurrence. Initially, the impression of the dwarf is a negative one since it proclaims that Zarathustra would ultimately “fall down” in his quest for being the overman. In fact, Zarathustra claims that such creature is his “devil and archenemy.” In essence, the dwarf represents a Spirit of Gravity, asserting that what goes up must come down. Yet, taking into account that the dwarf is an essential factor in the influx of courage in Zarathustra, one must rethink the negativity encapsulated in the character of the dwarf. Assuredly, no one doubts that it is indeed an image of gravitation. However, this attribute itself may not necessarily be as dreadful as it may seem. Even if the dwarf oppresses Zarathustra, it also allows him to reexamine his situation: “I climbed, I climbed, I dreamed, I thought...wearied by his sore torment and reawakened from sleep by a worse dream” (177). Simply put, the dwarf, as a Spirit of Gravity, awakens one to realize that although he ascends, he must be true to himself and be courageous enough to face the facts which include falling at some point in time. Thus, even being labeled as a devil, or more precisely his (Zarathustra’s) devil, the dwarf may not be something to be treated abominably or be afraid of after all.  


In relation to the dwarf’s image, one can then surmise the value of the eternal return not as a scientifically rigid idea, but rather as a doctrine of those who dare be courageous enough to be true to the earth. Even with the knowledge that a similar suffering would eventually recur, those who take up readily the task brought about by the eternal return of the same would still truly love life. In the last part of the aphorism, Nietzsche writes about a shepherd whose neck was being choked by a snake. Realizing this and after failing to pull the serpent out of the shepherd’s neck, Zarathustra cries that the man should bite the adder’s head off. In relation to the courage necessary for facing life’s roadblocks while simultaneously loving life itself, one must be brave enough to “bite the head off” of the things which “choke” him. Although Nietzsche perhaps uses such as a symbol for Christianity, it is safe to assume that such allegory refers to the general condition of nihilistic institutions which stunt the growth of an individual. Such growth, at least according to Nietzsche, is possible if there is a full appreciation of the idea of the eternal recurrence. The idea basically proceeds from the prior Nietzschean claim of the “death of God” and pays great attention to how a person should live his life given the aforementioned circumstance of the end of an all-powerful Creator. Hence, the eternal return is, to reiterate, essentially a state where no origin and no end exists, only the recurrence of all things (since they are finite). The challenge then, for individuals, is how they would face such endlessness. One way is to view such condition as something dreadful and let it crush the self; the other is to embrace such realization and face life events the hard way, even without a teleological command. Life then becomes living to the fullest, experiencing all it has to offer; whether one gets to live it over again eternally is another concern--the point is to live it now.


On the Black Nazarene


Of course, one cannot ignore the fact that the feast of the Black Nazarene is an annual event, indicating that, although not eternally, it is recurring. It may be too negligent to state that such occurrence is a clear indication of the idea of eternal return. However, loosening the term may be acceptable given that, as already mentioned, the notion of eternal recurrence is not purely scientific.

Black Nazarene Procession, 2013

With this in mind, it is interesting to regard the event as a phenomenon which “has eternally recurred” since the 17th century. It is of great significance to note that since such event qualifies within eternal recurrence, there needs to be a focus on the actors involved, for time here is not a continuous stretch. Instead, it is a composition of units stretched and determined by human will. From the time the Recollect friars brought the image to the country, up to the present celebration of thousands of barefoot devotees, it goes to show that the choices people make matter. The Black Nazarene did not come out of thin air. By the same token, it continues to retain the spirit of the people who scream, “Viva SeƱor!” The feast is not only a commemoration of the past, it is also an exercise of experiencing the present.

Over 1,000 devotees swarm on Jones Bridge

With courage, participants withstand the heat, the sweat, the fatigue, and everything in between to witness the procession of the
Poon. This expression of faith and courage, should not be misinterpreted as idolatry or fanaticism, for its basis remains on the concrete. In the same way the dwarf awakened Zarathustra from his misery, Filipinos must understand that the icons symbolize the Divine and are not divine themselves. The Black Nazarene epitomizes the plight of the millions of unfortunate Filipinos experiencing a wide array of socio-economic problems. Be it the pahalik or the pabihis, the gestures performed by the devotees are and should be expressions towards the concrete, not towards a blissful abyss.


In essence, the idea of the eternal return is something more than just a notion of the everlasting repetitiveness of time. It is how individuals respond to the notion that things have already happened in the past and will continue to happen in an innumerable amount of time. For individuals, it is having the option of either being fearful of such endlessness and subsequently falling into meaninglessness, or mustering enough courage to embrace life, including its hardships.

Gen Y Love

Me Me Me
Am quite the achiever
Or so I say
Me Me Me
Still capable of love?
Sure, so long as
Equated to riches, fortune, and fame
Me Me Me
I build strong relationships
Via the Internet
Liberal in my views
But of course!
Me Me Me
Hip and Cultured and True
Screw the government
Give me some pot
Smartphone selfie
Stop the wars!
Me Me Me


Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Serious Smoking

I started smoking just last year, after my sister influenced me into this obviously unhealthy habit. But it wasn't all her fault. From a personal standpoint, I see smoking as an evocative activity aimed at increasing my creative juices, making me feel relaxed, and providing an avenue for new friendships. Of course, I'm well aware of its negative impact to the environment, and in no way am I going to be a cigarette apologist as regards the state of our environment. A lot of my friends have already called me out, saying that smoking, really, makes no sense.
Thanks but no thanks for the warning.
Two years ago I may have agreed with them, but given the reasons I've mentioned above, I find it very difficult to break this bad habit. Whenever I have requirements for school which require both analytical and creative thinking, I feel like lady luck would favor me heavily if I light a stick of Lucky Strike. (Forgive me for the bad pun, I'm writing this without the aid of a cigarette). I guess this comes from the strikingly beautiful (there I go again, sorry) experience of smoking: the flame passing its light to the cigarette, the gentle manner upon which the filter touches one's lips, the way a slender roll of tobacco sits between two fingers, the frown a cig creates as a smoker takes a hit, and the casting off of anxiety and rigidity as one draws out smoke which suspends, and consequently, disappears in the air. (Consider Robert De Niro's famous smoking scene in Goodfellas). Oh yeah, you make a lot of smoker friends too. Even with the demise of our university's smoking area, or 'smocket' as Ateneans liked to call it, I've constantly engaged in interesting and personal discussion over a couple of cigarettes. Oh what the simple utterance of the words "tara, yosi!" can do.


The rest of the world, on the other hand, seem to regard smokers as, and maybe I'm exagerrating, the forces of evil. In countries like Singapore for example, smoking is banned in almost all places. In the United Kingdom, there is a proposal to eliminate flavored cigarettes and replace them with regular ones. And, just for good measure, the British government also wants to replace colored and labeled cig packs with generic olive-colored ones (See here). The popular alternative to the cigarette, the vape, also isn't safe from the hands of officials. Due to the lack of research concerning the safety of e-cigarettes, some places, most recently LA, have proposed banning their use, at least in places where you can't smoke cigarettes as well (Here). Here in the Philippines, the so-called sin tax, which imposes a levy on tobacco and alcohol, is already in effect.

Of course, it's not my intention to, in some way, turn things around and say that smokers are severely oppressed or anything like that. I know that some of these policies are helpful for the rest of society. The proceeds from the sin tax, for instance, go to the health insurance of those who are in need. So no, I'm not in any way portraying smokers as the victims in this one. I just find it funny how my rise to the pinnacle of cigarette smoking is met by all these anti-smoking laws all over the world. Oh well, just my luck. Tara yosi?

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Friday, March 7, 2014

AMDG!

Written on Friday, March 07, 2014

Today, we, the seniors of the Ateneo de Manila University Loyola Schools, had our Pabaon, an event where students, teachers, and staff can deliver their farewell messages before the students grab their diplomas from Fr. Jett's hand later this month. To say the least, I personally wasn't expecting much prior the whole thing. I thought, as I've thought time and time again when it comes to Ateneo-organized activities, that this yearly farewell ritual was just that, an annual gathering of senior students that has become insipid and well, meaningless, primarily for the administrators and teachers who hold it every year.



Every year, I thought, the teachers and organizers would simply re-hash their past statements about being "men and women for others" or living out "Magis" or doing good deeds for the greater Glory of God. But then again, at the back of my head, I thought discontinuing and/or altering this event would probably lead to student disappointment and poor evaluations. As a matter of fact, when a less nostalgic, more forward-looking version of the Pabaon was tried in 2010, students felt as if they were deceived or, in the words of a true Atenean, hassled. (See this)

But all my cynicism regarding the "realness" of the Pabaon gradually evaporated as I listened intently to some of the speeches delivered by guys who I haven't really had any personal encounters with. Ironically enough, and this may sound too mawkishly sentimental, I felt their words. I guess one factor that led to this feeling is me giving my full focus towards the speakers. In most of the Ateneo-organized forums I go to, particularly those dreaded and incomparably boring Sci10 ones, I usually just sit back, let time pass, talk to my seatmates, read class notes, or stare into blank space. This time around however, I gave my all. In my final days here in the Ateneo, I wanted to listen--something that Ateneans, in my observation, don't do much anymore.

Yep, but life goes on.

Anyway, most of the speeches, as I've already suggested, were oozing with "realness." I think what made them real derives from two things: the ability of the speaker to capture the audience and of course, the content of the speeches themselves.

The first reason comes as no surprise. Father Jett, VP Vergara, Sir Libertore, Sir Diccion (who did a good job hosting the program), and Sir Sev Sarmenta (who, by the way, is one of my favorite basketball commentators) have already gained a reputation for being well-loved by students. But even without this smooth relationship with and immense popularity among students, these people were able to deliver their speeches well, with each one having his own style. Sir Sev, unsurprisingly, went with the high-energy speech with all the jokes about Atenean behavior. Ateneans, according to Sev, are fond of using "basically," "first and foremost," and "at the end of the day" when reporting in class or taking oral exams. Even with the jokes, however, Sarmenta finished off his speech by reminding us not to forget the lessons we learned in school, and to continue helping those who are in need. Sir Libertore, a theology professor, delivered a more mellow speech, but it was equally insightful. He challenged us to embrace death, that is, not dying in the literal sense, but the demise of selfishness and the entry into the bigger national community outside Ateneo.  VP Vergara made a particularly honest comment about the mixed feelings that he has in relation to batch 2014's departure. On one hand, he said that he felt a sense of pride, especially when one considers the fact that he became vice president when we were freshmen. On the other hand, there was also a sense of apprehension as to how our batch may turn out in the future. I was struck by this, as I myself am no stranger to anxiety.

After 4 years, its meaning is a lot clearer now.

Still within the topic of apprehension, Fr. Jett's speech, to me, was the best. Anxiety has been constantly part of my psyche this past couple of years. His message gave different interpretations of the famous Jesuit creed, "Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam" or "For The Greater Glory of God." His last interpretation was quite simple yet very apt considering the condition of Ateneans today who constantly battle a state of apathy and paralysis. He said, "AMDG also stands for Ang Matakot 'Di Gagalaw." Everyone inside the Irwin Theater were, at least in my observation, suddenly in the midst of a realization. It was as if this AMDG was an elephant in the room that nobody wanted to reveal. In an institution such as the Ateneo which, in public view, caters to career-driven individuals, Father Jett made all 2,000 of us realize that out of the 20,000 applicants, we were chosen not primarily because of pure academic prowess, but because of our hearts. As such, we had and still have the potential to use the knowledge given to us and complement it with a heart that we could share with other people. To me, what Fr. Jett is trying to say is simple: live, love, and share your light to other people.

Ang Matulog 'Di Gagraduate! :)

This challenge was further driven to our hearts by the messages of some of the students' foster parents in their immersion experience. Even if I didn't get to see my Nanay Senyang onscreen, the message brought back my immersion memories. Granted that it only lasted for two days, it nonetheless is one of my most treasured experiences in college. Now that I am close to saying goodbye to college...now that I am on my way down the hill...there is one thing I'll carry with me in everything that I'll be doing in the future...AMDG!


Monday, March 3, 2014

History of ASEAN

In light of the establishment of the Asean Economic Community (AEC) in 2015, here is a brief history of how the regional organization came about.


The Association of Southeast Asian Nations (Asean) is a regional multilateral organization composed of ten countries, namely Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, Brunei, Burma, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam, with the first half of the countries founding the organization in 1967. Since then, the Asean has developed into a body with regional and global clout, despite political and economic differences among its member states (Khoman).
In 1961, The Association of Southeast Asia or ASA, which some say served as a precedent for Asean, was formed by the Philippines, the Federation of Malaya, and Thailand. This loose alliance initiated a call for a more integrated regional bloc and thus, the Asean was formed on August 8, 1967 via the Bangkok Declaration. Now comprised of the ASA member states plus Indonesia and Singapore, the Asean has aimed to represent “the collective will of the nations to bind themselves together in friendship and cooperation and, through joint efforts and sacrifices, secure for their peoples and for posterity the blessings of peace, freedom and prosperity.” Its first summit occurred in 1976, with member countries promising non-interference when it comes to domestic matters through the Treaty of Amity and Cooperation (TAC) (Flores and Abad).
In the following years, the Asean drove towards further expansion and integration. In 1984, Brunei Darussalam joined the organization a week after gaining its independence. This increase in membership carried over in the 1990s, with Vietnam joining in 1995, Laos and Burma in 1997, and Cambodia in 1999. This decade also saw security and economic integration, with the signing of the Common Effective Preferential Tariff (CEPT), a framework for the Asean Free Trade Area (AFTA), in 1992 and the creation of the Asean Regional Forum (ARF), a long-term security dialogue between Asean members and other countries which has aimed to solve conflicts by peaceful means and preventative diplomacy, in 1994. The following year also saw the ratification of the Nuclear Weapon Free-Zone Treaty (Khoman).
At the turn of the 21st century, the Asean confronted a new chapter in its history, facing new issues and new challenges. One of these is the growing concern on climate change. In 2002, the regional organization signed the Agreement on Transboundary Haze Pollution, which proved to be unsuccessful given the Southeast Asian haze in 2006. In 2005, the Asean Wildlife Enforcement Network (AWEN) was formed, promoting regional inter-agency and inter-governmental initiative to counter the illegal cross-border trade in endangered flora and fauna. Finally, in 2007, the Cebu Declaration on East Asia Energy, sought to promote energy security and find energy alternatives to conventional fuels (Letchumanan 52-53).
Also, the 2000s, with the growing emphasis on globalization, saw the focus of Asean on developing its international legal and economic presence. To consolidate its international reputation, the Asean held its first East Asia Summit (EAS) in 2005. This annual meeting of leaders of 18 countries (from East Asia, plus Russia and the US) aims to improve existing ties among its participants. The next year, the Aseas was given an observer status at the UN General Assembly and in 2007, the Asean adopted its own constitution, the Asean charter, further creating an image of itself as an international legal entity. In terms of economic development and integration, the Asean has stayed loyal to its goal increasing the region’s competitive advantage as a production base geared for the world market. Some examples of this effort towards making Asean a full-scale economic entity are free trade agreements with countries like Australia and New Zealand in 2009, and the launching of the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP) in 2012.
This desire to accelerate economic integration is far from over. Looking ahead, the Asean is seeking to pursue a European Union-style single market which involves scraping tariffs and liberalising trade and the movement of labor and capital. In 2015, the regional organization aims to create the Asean Economic Community, which, some suggest, is the most important of the three pillars of the Asean Community.  Its aims are: (1) to create a single market and production base, (2) to develop a highly competitive economic region, (3) to foster equitable economic development, and (4) to create a region fully integrated to the global economy (“Asean Economic Community”).
Needless to say, this creation of an economic community within the region is of severe importance to the rest of the world. The Asean region represents one of biggest markets in the world with its more than 600 million young and dynamic population. It has a combined Gross Domestic Product (GDP) of $2.3 billion and an average per capita GDP of $3,751.However, some critics say that the Asean is still not equipped with the right tools for full economic integration. Aside from the fact that Southeast Asia is composed of economically and politically different countries, Asean is having a difficult time following its own blueprint for economic integration for 2015.

Sunday, March 2, 2014

Road to Law School

After a lot of suggestive comments from my family regarding what I'll do after college, I must say that writing this piece is a bit of a challenge. At first I was hesitant because of the fact that going to law school has been rubbed in my face time and time again, plus the fact that I really don't know yet whether I passed the entrance test or not (so far I only took the ALS exam; results are out in April). But since I have, for the longest time, wanted to get this thing off my chest, I'm finally writing about it.

Which begs the question: what exactly about law school, considering the abovementioned dilemmas, am I going to write? Ah you see, this piece actually is, as you might've already guessed, a way for me to blow off steam and release all my current frustrations with post-college life. My family has constantly made me feel like being a 'success' is the be-all and end-all of man's existence. Quite frankly, I kind of am annoyed. And God knows how patient I am when it comes to family. (In fact, see blog post on 'Family Matters').

Anyway, here are some of the things I hear every now and then from people, mostly family, regarding how I should run my future:

Oh iho, graduate ka na niyan, tuluy-tuloy na sa Ateneo niyan ha?

Bukod sa pagiging pre-law course ng political science, ano pa'ng pwedeng trabahong makuha mo? Journalist? Teacher? Naku, walang pera dun.

O eto, libro ni Scott Turow tungkol sa first year niya sa Harvard Law, basahin mo. It’s one of the best legal fiction around.”

Ah, ikaw ba anak ni attorney (my mom)? May bagong abogado na naman tayo sa pamilya.”
Naku ang aga mong gagraduate ha? Pero four years pa niyan sa law school.”

There are many more, but as you can infer from some of these allusive statements, my future is, in one way or another, already mapped out. In my estimations, prematurely. Because of these, I have anxiously experienced lingering thoughts of how I’m supposed to make them proud, fulfil my duty, and carry on with the family tradition. These words, instead of giving me the courage to overcome my fears and helping me grow as a person, have only paralyzed me and have sort of given me an instinctive urge to rebel. The road to law school may already be set, but unfortunately, this knucklehead seems to still be looking for other routes..


An Historical View of Jose Donoso's "Paseo"

This my final paper for my Third World Literature class.
Jose Donoso’s short story entitled Paseo reveals the isolationist life of a family in mid-twentieth-century Chile, a situation which goes hand in hand with the lives of the Chilean people under strict military rule and a conservative regime. The suppression of dissent which occurred in Chile during this time is captured by the story’s conclusion, wherein the narrator’s Aunt Mathilda, the character who embraces her freedom and who breaks away from the lifeless status quo, dies. However, this death, as was the dullness of the restrictive life in Chile, is met with silence; life, with all its meaning exhausted, goes on.
Written in 1959, Paseo captures the rigidity of Chilean life, particularly that of a family, in the twentieth century. During this period, Chile experienced being ruled by military officials and politicians who, while calling themselves reformists, perpetuated conservatism in Chile (Rector 133-154).A culture of conservatism, nationalism, and counterrevolutionary thought and practice thus prevailed from the 1900s until the 1950s, a period which is partially ignored due to the more notorious authoritarian regime of Augusto Pinochet in the 70s.
Although this socio-political context is not Donoso’s primary basis for writing the story, it nonetheless provides the reader with the dynamics of Chile as a country, which affects all units of society, from the individual to, in this short story’s case, the family. In an interview, Donoso admits the somewhat minor influence of sociology, history, and/or politics to his writing. He states that this “compulsion to explain and to place ourselves [Latin American writers] in a historic, sociological context...is very strong, and sometimes I think it mars many novels in Latin America which could have been much better if they have not been so explicitly sociological” (Leiva 178). Yet, even if the themes of his works revolve around memories of a family, he sees himself as a writer who is part of a bigger world: “I consider myself...a very small thing, and then something bigger which is Chilean, and then something which is bigger still which is Latin American, and then something which is bigger still, which is let’s say the world. I can’t separate all these planes of existence, all of them are me” (Leiva 176). Given this approach, Donoso’s Paseo can still be viewed within the realm of Chilean society and politics.
In this analysis, it is of great importance to put emphasis on the characters and the symbols used by Donoso to deliver his message. Almost serendipitously, this message coincides with the larger reality of lifelessness, rigidity, and conservatism experienced by the Chileans in the first half of the 1900s.
Looking at the characters, one can see the different paths taken by Mathilda and her brothers; the former “shuns her routine existence to descend into the animalistic night world accompanied by a stray dog” while the latter continue to exist in silence and  lifeless perfection (Feal 53). Prior to Mathilda’s freedom from the shackles of an all-too-predictable way of living, both she and her brothers operate in a space of rigidity and propriety. All emotions are bottled up, therefore rendering love as an expression which is unnecessary and even dangerous. Thus, Donoso notes that this tenderness “found itself stylized now in the form of certain actions, useful symbols which did not require further elucidation” (615). In short, being secure, “to be neither hungry nor cold nor uncomfortable,” is given far more importance than embracing one’s liberty (616).
This tension between security and liberty becomes truly visible when Mathilda decides to go for walks with the dog she harvests a relationship with. Mathilda now yearns for freedom, lives a life in the streets, and truly engages with ‘the other.’ Her brothers, meanwhile, bury their feelings, continue to live in comfort, and remain apathetic. The path taken by the aunt certainly breaks the mold which has always been offered to her by her lifeless world. Indeed, it is a new life, the exact opposite of her brothers’ lives, a world “without anything fortuitous and unexpected” (617).
These different paths or types of personalities are, of course, parallel to historical realities. The fact that initially, the whole family is subjected to a life of adherence to proper decorum may refer to the events in 1925-27, wherein the powers of the presidency were increased and General Ibanez established a dictatorship (Rector 132). Needless to say, the lives of the Chileans during this time made it riskier for them to go against law and order. In the story, the narrator prays that his father Pedro, who, with the rest of the family were playing an ‘orderly’ game of billiards, “would rebel against the order,” but to no avail. There simply are severe repercussions for those who dissent. Under a strict government, the Chileans, particularly those who held demonstrations in the late 1920s, were repressed by the conservatives and the military, which led to the Marusia and La Coruna Massacres (Collier 212).
A sense of hope glimmered in the late 1930s leading up to the 40s, when the Chilean leftist groups formed a Popular Front coalition and introduced new economic policies leaning towards social programs (Rector 151-152). This turn against restrictive law and order imposed by the military regime coincides with Mathilda’s character taking the path against the status quo. Evidently, Mathilda’s newfound spirit, a departure from security and comfort, brought “an animation in her eyes, an excited restlessness like that in the eyes of an animal” (627). As mentioned earlier, however, this act of freedom poses severe consequences. Much like how the communists were eventually banned by the right-wingers in the 1950s, Mathilda meets her end after being out in the streets. The installation of Gen. Ibanez, a nebulous and vacillating political figure, created an atmosphere of uncertainty and rigidity. Thus, and much like how the story ends, silence continued to prevail.
Of course, to further deepen one’s understanding of how the story plays within historical, social, and political events, it is necessary to focus on the different symbols found in Paseo. Most of Donoso’s works employ symbols which correspond to the disintegration of order. In this essay, the symbols of the house, which trapped the characters in a sense of order, and the dog, which triggered a kind of disintegration, are looked upon.
Going back to Mathilda’s rebellion, one can see how her relationship with the dog may epitomize solidarity with the poor. The dog, of course, with its description as an animal which is “sick and filthy” or something that simply “did not exist” heavily complements the image of those belonging to the lower strata of Chilean society (618-620). The narrator’s family, on the other hand, with their comfortable way of living based on their duty to maintain a misconstrued idea of perfection, might very well represent the bourgeoisie. Chile’s society, in the period leading up to the time when Paseo was written, had been deeply divided and was enduring an atmosphere of isolation. National industrialization in Chile led to massive urban migration and deep social inequalities (Torche 427). The relationship between the filthy white bitch and the all-too-proper family, ironically reveals the sameness between them, a sameness which is masked by societal differences. Inequality, at least from a historical view of Paseo, can only be abolished through solidarity, as Mathilda finds her equal and as the immobility of the dog enables the family to move and feel again (122-124).
As in most of his novels, Donoso operates within the theme of the ultra-secure life of the upper class, wherein some of the characters, like Mathilda, veer away from their crumbling homes in order to see the world fully, and, with all its simplicity, to live (Leiva 178-179). In light of this, the house itself serves as a good symbol of Chile as a country. In both, “what took place...was...an absence, a lack, which because it was unacknowledged was irremediable, something that, if it weighed, weighed by not existing” (615). While there is an acknowledgement of the possibility of a different reality, this exterior world, in the story, is filtered by windows, walls, fences, and thick doors. For the family, if the house they dwell into is ‘heaven,’ then mistaken thoughts of an alternative reality must always be corrected. The house appears to be complete and absolute; there is precisely no use in immersing oneself to the uncomfortable outside world. The effect of this kind of suffocation, for Donoso, is simply emotional coldness, the absence of any form of feeling. Given the fact that most historians consider this period in Chilean history as relatively stable, it is perhaps reasonable to assume that this historical quietism is indicative of the isolation of most people during that era. In a sense, the people were trapped in a culture of rigidity, much like how the narrator’s family is stuck within the confines of their home. From a personal standpoint, Donoso states that he “has been so rooted to a place absolutely and completely” but even if he belongs to a house, he “had to fight against a milieu which was reflected in these houses”  (Leiva 177).
Donoso seems to suggest, therefore, the necessity of going outside and making contact with the ‘other’ to break away from a lifeless world of security. This desire of being able to release oneself is incidentally concurrent with the political events that took place within the timeframe of when the short story was written. Perhaps, as one final point of analysis, the title ‘Paseo,’ which means ‘walk’ is an invitation to live, and not just exist comfortably. And to justify the contents of this paper, perhaps this theme of going outside is parallel to an analysis of Paseo as a story which goes beyond just psychological and universal themes. It is, in a way, still a narrative which is in touch with history.







WORKS CITED
Collier, Simon and William F. Sater. A History of Chile 1808-2002. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Print.
Feal, Rosemary. “In My End Is My Beginning: Jose Donoso’s Sense of an Ending.” Chasqui 17.2 (1988): 46-55. Print.
Rector, John. The History of Chile. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005. Print.
Torche, Florencia. “Unequal But Fluid: Social Mobility in Chile in Comparative Perspective.” American Sociological Review  70.3 (2005): 422-450. Print.


Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Female Figures in Devi and Nang Nak

This is a short essay analyzing the films Devi and Nang Nak.
Christianity sees the Virgin Mary as an intercessory figure which has to be venerated by the members of the Church. As a central figure in the Catholic tradition, she is perceived as the essence of being a woman, appealing to emotions as opposed to the rigid realm of logicality. She is seen as the opposite of Eve, who put sin into this world; Mary gave birth to the Word, and gave Him His human characteristics. But more importantly, in relation to the communitas, the Marian figure, with its multiple ‘local’ meanings, is important in terms of uniting a locality.
With all this said, it is interesting to note that other religions also have their share of female figures which are also put in a place of high regard, albeit in different ways. In the films Devi and Nang Nak, one sees how the figure of a woman, as a goddess or as a ghost, is treated in the Hindu tradition and in Thai local folklore.
While there are similarities between the Mother Goddess (Kali) of Hinduism and the Blessed Virgin Mary, it appears, at least in Devi, that the Hindu goddess is not just held in honor, but also worshipped and adored. This suggests that the devotion of Hindu followers is much more intense as compared to the devotion of Christians to Mary. Indeed, similar to Mary, the Hindu goddess is treated as a counterpart to the male figure, which symbolizes consciousness and reason. In the film, Dayamoyee, seen in a dream (a form of unconsciousness) by her father-in-law as the reincarnation of Kali, represents unconsciousness and emotions while her husband, given his education, appears to be her conscious and logical counterpart.
Sharmila Tagore plays as Dayamoyee, the 'reincarnation' of Kali
The Hindu deity is also seen as a ‘mother,’ capable of providing refuge to her sons and daughters and performing (or at least helping carry out) miracles to the faithful. However, the Hindu goddess appears not simply as a figure which intercedes; alone, she can perform miracles. In the words of Kalikinkar, Dayamoyee’s  father-in-law, the Mother goddess ‘can make the impossible possible.’ Kalinkinkar, in a conversation with his son Umprasad, mentions how he worshiped the merciful mother with such rigor for more than 40 years. This intense reverence for the goddess is seen further in the chants constantly sung in the film, with lyrics ranging from ‘we are not worthy’ or ‘have mercy on us, Mother.’
The strong devotion to the Mother Goddess does not end there. It is also important to point out how the idea of incarnation makes the dynamic between the signified and the signifier more difficult to delineate. In contrast to the figures of the Virgin Mary, the signifier in the Hindu tradition is a living person, not an icon. Further, the fact that the goddess has presented herself to the people in the guise of Dayamoyee makes the distinction between the signified and the signifier harder to grasp. The symbol (the signifier) is no longer just a convenient representation since the signified, which in this scheme of things no longer appears to be thoroughly transcendent, has made itself present in the signifier.
The blurred signified-signifier dynamic presented in Devi is not the only dilemma faced by Hinduism, or the whole idea of religion for that matter. The clash between the individual and the community is also masterfully presented throughout the film. In sum, the film seems to suggest that personal beliefs and desires, when opposed to tradition, are destined to fall into a tragic pit. The movie’s conclusion is a testament to such argument. Dayamoyee, even if it is against her will to become a goddess, is left no other recourse but to believe as others believe. In tears, the protagonist helplessly watches the throngs of people worshipping her, coming from distant places just to witness the goddess. This leads to an unfortunate end, as Dayamoyee fails to heal a severely ill Khoka. Of course, in turn, Dayamoyee loses her sanity. But she has already lost something even before the death of the child: her identity.
Nang Nak, on the other hand, as opposed to Devi, involves the story not of a deity, but of a ghost. The Thai horror film recounts the legend of Mae Nak, a woman loyal to her husband Mak, even after her death. While both the Virgin Mary (Mother of God) and the Devi (female deity) generate some form of devotion from their adherents, the ghost of Nak inevitably imposes fear among the members of the community. However, it is interesting how the townspeople in the film, upon learning how Nak continues to terrorize those who try to destroy her family, draw nearer and nearer to the Buddhist monks, as if to suggest that these enlightened men have the capacity to intermingle with spirits and lay them to rest.
Nang Nak
Slightly veering away from the figure of the woman presented in Nang Nak, one has to pay attention to the role of the Buddhist monks in the film. Throughout the film, one sees how the monks are respected in the community, seen as wise men capable of guiding lay followers toward the right path, or, more appropriate to the Buddhist tradition, the middle path. Nak herself consults the head monk of the local temple when she was still alive to know the condition of her husband who was sent to fight in the Siamese-Vietnamese war. In a meeting wherein the local community is to discuss the actions that should be taken to fend off Nak’s ghost, the townspeople, although free to give suggestions, clearly recognize the chief monk of the locality as the central figure. Ultimately, it was the High Dignitary, Somdej Toh, who is able to successfully persuade Nak to no longer disturb the town, keeping her spirit in a girdle brooch made out of her own forehead.  
Going back to the figure of the woman, the ghost of Nak seems to still portray the quintessential traits of a woman. For one, Nak is evidently driven by her emotions, by an undying love for her husband. This leads to a disastrous situation for the people of the community, for the stubbornness of the ghost, fueled by her intense emotions, leads to her eliminating anyone who tries to show Mak the truth. Aside from this emotional and loving nature of Nak, one also sees the care she shows for her child (Dang), who, according to Nak herself, should always be with her. In sum, the movie portrays the woman as a figure which revolves around emotions, love, and desire.
Given this, the figure of the woman, embodied by the ghost of Nak, seems in opposition to the basic tenet of Buddhism--ridding oneself of desire. Holding on to Nak, Mak is perceived by his community as a person who is downright insane, unable to accept the reality of his wife’s death. Perhaps such image of Mak is analogous to a person not being able to let go of his desire, a person incapable of seeing the ‘truth.’ Thus, the conclusion of the film comes full circle as Mak, no longer living with ghosts and no longer controlled by his desires, decides to live a life of asceticism together with the other monks.
In conclusion, the films Devi and Nang Nak definitely provide the audience with a substantial image of the culture of Hinduism and Buddhism respectively. More specifically, these two movies provide differing views concerning the woman. Devi sees the Mother Goddess as a source of comfort, forgiveness, and miracles, and should thus be treated with the utmost respect and devotion. On the other hand, Nang Nak shows the ghost of Nak, in a sense, as a symbol for desire, and the only way for one to continue living is to let go of this strong feeling of wanting.


It is equally important to look into how these figures are approached by the communities in which they are a part of. In Devi, people from different places gravitate towards the incarnation of the goddess, willing to endure a long journey just to witness the female deity or even ask for her blessing. This unity of a community is also seen in Nang Nak, although for very different reasons. Fear that the apparition of Nak might haunt them, the people of the town decide to hold a gathering, led by the monks, to discuss how they must act. Thus, similar to the unifying characteristic of the Virgin Mary, these female figures bring together people for a common purpose or action. All in all, the effects of images and symbols on the communitas cannot be overemphasized. While both films end with a more or less despondent note, it is nonetheless important to take note of the unifying, and therefore hopeful, aspect behind these female figures.