Stars on 45

I have encountered, last week, a challenging and relenting experience that came unto me by surprise--a chunk of it was given by a friend who manages to ridicule me whenever I go into THE ANGELITE’s office, saying and even recapitulating a litany of his annoying queries about the life of a student press, and the societal press at large. The encounter was a “near-to-smack” series and I was pinned down by the impetus of his queries which came, negatively, a serious attack about the profession of journalism.

He even bothered to ask an array of questions appearing like bad incantations casts upon innocent people who, in turn, will be caught by the horrifying genocide period. What is rather horrible was that he had even made fun by placing, side by side, his judgments between a theatre star (because he was an energetic servant of theatre entertainment) and a journalist (because I was inclined to it).

“Tell me, who is greater, a theatre star or a journalist?” he said inquisitively while munching the cheeseburger he bought. Well I came to explain that the two personalities have unique qualities, although, by the argument of opposites, each of them possesses distinct terms of resilience. But, he still insists the question. He, at this time, bannered his outlined conjecture that “theatre stars are great because they enjoy the fruits of affluence while journalists have nothing but an experience of wallowing into trouble and, no other less, just a petty cash made out from their “specialized” language. Pardon me; the person is a great product of misunderstood philosophy—having his own rendition of decent arrogance.

Knowing that tension will soon occur, I fused into an exit and my feet brought me into the threshold of the office. There, my wake was stunned both with the vibrant air and jubilant laughs of my editors and co-staffs together with the flashback of my encounter incessantly flashing at the back of my mind. Hey, I thought, it was definitely a different world. I must make some articulations.

What is good, as a point of articulation, is already a known fact brought by the conversation. The tension, that drove me to fuse into exit, is not a point of showing a weak and defeated dignity but rather, it was and it is an absolute dignity that journalists often show. For their works are sometimes products of emotional catharsis.

I’m not claiming the fame of a fully-defined journalist since I was specifically an exception more on as a juvenile figure to spot on. But, we have the basic skill to distinguish uniqueness without sacrificing the main idea of fair judgment. What does a theatre star acquired from his/her audiences’ applauses due to his/her magnificent performance could also be equated on how did the writer, particularly the journalists, enticed different moods of his/her readers made also by his/her magnificent performance.

Struggle is also a parallel idea. The theatre star must pass by into rocky roads to test the efficiency of his/her so-called Rolls-Royce of fame. But, how to start the Rolls-Royce’s engine is a tough job, for it is destined to satisfy the demands of artistry and to quench the audiences’ thirst of “near-to-perfect” performance.

The Rolls-Royce of fame would be efficient if it will be applauded. The Rolls-Royce of fame would be nothing if it will be bantered—a crucial point of articulation about the dramatization of life in the stage.

Moreover, the life on the stage couldn’t bear its significance if writers wouldn’t go on and watch the art transpiring on the stage. Journalists have this struggle, of keeping their noses on everything without considering the criteria of reluctance, for, as the Greek philosopher Xenophanes hath said, human knowledge is always replaceable by something that may be nearer to truth.

If the theatre dancers could emanate such perfect moves from their ballistics, writers could generate actions through the pen tinged with the fire of inspiration. For the theatre singers have their wealth jailed on their audiences’ minds, for these performers had strung love on their audiences’ hearts, writers have an equal distinction—of making influence by just a miracle of the pen.

For writers have their wealth, not only jailed on their readers’ mind, but also circles a moral inspiration, carefully entering the emotion and the passion of their readers and their critics. And it was a tough job to do such role for what the writer writes from the gestures of his pen is also a responsibility to ponder and carry on. Writing had the equality entailing both the tremendous effort of thinking what to write and the tiring process of how to write the idea.

I may sound like a broken record, but if we could think how really this two “stars” played roles to entertain, if not to enlighten, the society, it would bring us another fire of inspiration burning inside our hearts and its fumes thriving inside of our minds.

Differentiating, again, which is which between a theatre star and a journalist was, again, another question just like a good question on philosophy: Why is there something instead of nothing? But at this time we could find obviously the differences; for each of them, as I’ll reiterate, enjoy distinct qualities.

We can always learn more than we know, but we can never be sure that we have reached any final truth.

The System

At first I was reluctant to consider every fabric of reason that will push me to go to our THEOLOGY class activity. It was definitely another world for me and the thing that snaps and twists my bones is a phantasm of dungeon, feeling a deep awareness that a cult of necromancy is celebrating at the top of my mind. Haunting themes and appalling intimidations bludgeoned my view everytime I glance to my notebook to check the queue of my academic activities. There’s a conflict between my youthful world and with the paragraph situated on my notebook stating this: Bureau of Jail Management and Penology-174; Theology Activity—do a visit and reflect!

I was pushed, under the plethora of my friends’ encouragement, to go on with the activity. But it is not that I’m afraid to get contact with it—I just don’t want to get an accurate description on how do I look like being clutched by my own ephemeral fears knowing my personal standards as vulnerable to those instances. My friends kept bantering me that they even gravely ridicule my reasons for not going, reiterating my gullibility in nature. Perhaps, I was hooked by the impression made by movies depicting the milieu of jails—having an array of massive brawls, phenomenal stench, chaotic gesticulations, and the worst, bullied by killing. I have grown with that kind of impression and even the scenes of Nora Aunor’s Bulaklak sa City Jail left me a vision, carrying the regulatory slogan, “Let no one enter here who is ignorant of such jail descriptions”.

Whatever happened to me afterwards? I don’t know, but I’ve found myself walking with the “one-track-minded” legion of youths who aims to visit the 174 unit of BJMP. That vibrant first day of the Yuletide Season for this year dogged with a diverse representation of a system. It became another footnote of my history—was it really I who joined this legion of youth who bears the fastidious position of a weird excursion? The so-called “system” had started to create a sense of reflection. Doing such activity was anathema for me, but, I’ve found myself in solace with the haunted figures of my soliloquies.

I couldn’t believe myself that there is really a gravity that will pull your heart and your soul once you step into that kind of place. The place was a different society. The people living in this society were tinged by a “system”. They were numerous and sorting them one by one will took of your time leaving you in question: have I reached any final figure? The space was so limited and you could feel the mystique of the scenario, not necessarily chaotic, but a furor suffused both by jubilance and sorrow. I could still remember how their reactions varied from time to time upon seeing legion of students entering their “society”.

Much of the “society” presented seems to be a parallelism to Karl Marx’s philosophies. Their society propagates its own system turning and turning resembling a machine by which it fumes and produces efficient qualities of diligence and dedication. Efforts were imbued with kindness and harmony. It is not actually slavery since they were not coerced to do something immoral nor it was a form of communism since they were not robbed by basic freedom inside of their “society”; but the fact that they were eventually robbed by basic freedom on the light of reality is observed here to be an indestructible form.

And just like what Plato fully conforms to his The Republic, the “system” must be ruled under the premise of the people who know what is good, once they have fulfilled it then that was the only time that they were fit to rule. I had scrutinized this philosophy and I’ve found its evidence on the “system” of that BJMP unit. Perhaps, that “system” had undergone the intellectual training, not literally taking full study of mathematics and physics, but an intellectual training of discerning the fruition of harmony and peace. And it seems the “system” is maximizing the happiness of their society as a whole and had put into censorship the wrong ideas which may transpire.

After visualizing the setting, me and my groupmates were brought into the smallest division of the system—the cell. And I was indeed exuberant to take the seat the inmates had offered. There, that distinct footnote of my life, I had seen the threshold of enlightenment open its gates to welcome me on which I have never felt before not even in Church. There, I have proven that dignity is not just measured only by looking the veneer of the form or of the person but by how does he or she effectively carry the divine fact that he or she is a creation of God, created in His own image and likeness. For this footnote of my youth catapulted me into such stratospheric heights of experience.

Seeing these people, who were labeled undisputedly by the law and by the media as “ferocities” of the society, turn to you and mingle to you in goodness and ample respect had churned me out of my nutshell. It seems I have received another gift from above. This is the highest abstraction that I have reached in my life, for they have taught me another side of life by using only their own experience and not by the ingenious reasons produced by the world’s confinement to academic essentialities. And here I ostracized Aristotle’s Metaphysics of saying that people can’t be educated just by experience but instead they need to comprehend with the arts (intellectual commands) in order to be educated.

The span of approximately three hours of mingling with them and letting their voices be heard by my youthful comprehension has projected a twisting fate on my character for it lit another candle of inspiration and instigated another shaft of light that promoted, again, inner awareness, societal perception, and would bring you closer to God. How had I acquired impressions of them was another story.

I could remember how I was moved, maybe by the little voice that speaks inside, from one place to another just to get a talk with the inmates; setting my then goal of acquainting to all of the fifty four members by which I failed to do so. I have felt that I’m solitary with a unique brotherhood for they have treated me and my groupmates like a friend who are with them all the times.

One of the persons whom I’ve got a chance to mingle with was Rey. I was lucky enough to make him talk with me because his nature, as he later admitted, was not that socially competent—he is not sometimes capable of communicating with others especially with visitors who enters the cell. This man has the deepest sentiment among all of the inmates whom I’ve talked with. He was a denizen of the prison for nearly nine years with the case of rape. As he spilled his background unto me, he was not the main character of the case. His reason seems unclear to me even if you base it on rational grounds but, again, that is another story. But his words are mixtures of feelings, of pain and joy.

Pain for Rey suffered the consequences without any formal rule of law. He shared me a virtue as he told “daig ko pa ang nakulong dahil wala pa akong pormal na sintensya ay inabot na ako ng siyam na taon dito sa kulungan. Yan, anak ang katotohanan ng hustisya sa atin”. The law definitely will speak of itself but the person has the stance of ideology by which he will hold on until his last breath. I was amused by his fiery eloquence. He even told me “nandito sa kulungan anak ang mga totoong tao, nandito ang Diyos na gagabay sa iyo”. For evil crept on his mind, goodness will cleanse his heart and soul. Rey even adds his sentiment, “sa siyam na taong pagkakakulong ko dito, dalawang beses lang ako nakatanggap ng dalaw”. And by that blow, I was driven by the impetus of his words bringing me into the pantheon of gods down to the elixirs of hell.

Recapitulating many of the stories and lessons that I have learned makes me, again, criticize the nature of the human law more so with our government. Hadn’t we learned that the true purpose of government is to enable its citizens to live the full and happy life? And the function of the state is to make possible the development and happiness of the individual? Then, what is lackadaisical must be seen morally—the powerful ones must know how to look and treat others with just and equal manner. What is rooted on our “system” was a dreadful mentality: that the affluent must benefit and the poor ones must suffer.

And realizing this kind of another undisputable fact of our real “system” was already disappointing. Differentiate it with the “system” they had inside, where harmony, peace, brotherhood, and spirituality are the only rules, doesn’t it give you another point of realization: how was it good to live in prison? Owing my inspiration with Freddie Aguilar’s song entitled Katarungan, this is my plea to all of the prisoners of the country:

Sa isang kulungang bakal ay may taong malungkot, umiiyak
Ang tanong n'ya sa sarili ay kailan magigisnan ang liwanag
Malayo ang iniisip at nakakuyom yaring mga palad

Bakit daw s'ya nagdurusa sa kasalanang 'di n'ya ginawa
Kahapon lamang ay kapiling n'ya kanyang asawa at anak
Namumuhay nang tahimik sa isang munting tahanang may tuwa
Ang kaligayahan ay pinutol ng isang paratang sa kanya
S'ya daw ang may sala sa isang krimen na 'di naman n'ya ginawa
Wala na bang katarungan ang isang nilalang na katulad n'ya
Ilan pang tulad n'ya ang magdurusa nang walang kasalanan
'Di ba't ang batas natin pantay-pantay, walang mahirap, mayaman
Bakit marami ang nagdurusang mga walang kasalanan Mga ilang araw na lang haharapin na n'ya ang bitayan
Paano n'ya isisigaw na s'ya'y sadyang walang kasalanan
Tanging ang Diyos lamang ang s'yang saksi at s'yang nakakaalam
Diyos na rin ang s'yang bahalang maningil kung sino'ng may kasalanan
Dumating na ang araw, haharapin na n'ya kanyang kamatayan
Sa isang upuang bakal na kay dami nang buhay na inutang
O, ang batas ng tao kung minsan ay 'di mo maintindihan
Ilan pang tulad n'ya ang magdurusa nang walang kasalanan

The Quartet of the Swedish Moon

July 12, 2008 for me was one of the biggest and yet memorable day of my life. Things were not so unease, I must tell you that. Beginning from those euphoric days of my high school fast forwarding to my physical toil now in College, I can actually brought it the reason out from obscurity---I have recognized my responsibilities.

Huh! I hate being tormented with my hardships. What I want to do was to make it plain and simple; I must cope up with these hardships and must turn them into lame ducks. No one but I, I could and must help myself to manage the time engaged with academics, and with my hobby of writing.

I will share the story of my toil probably this week; Hahaha! I must finish my review first for my Prelim Exams.


Let’s go back to my topic. Yes, I have a wonderful day for the July 12. Mom and Sister had shared me with the event I’ve been waiting for so long as we went to the theatre to watch the movie that will make history. Hollywood is gravely responsible for it as they had showcased their latest accomplishment----the film adaptation of the Broadway Musical “MAMMA MIA!”

I'm not actually associated with the story of the movie but with the cast and the music. I must stop being hypocrite that I like the flow of the story...all I want is Meryl Streep and the ABBA music.

I was a hardcore ABBA fan as much through my Admiration with Meryl Streep. So, it went through my formula of equating the sum/product of ABBA and Meryl Streep into my total furor and sense of pop culture.

What do I want to point at this time is the photos of the four ABBA members joining the movie casts during the successful Swedish premiere of the movie in Hotel Rival in Stockholm and this is the year's biggest reunion of the popular group who enthralled hearts during the 70's until now (I must make an essay about my devotion to these four Swedes---watch out! Coming Soon!)

And the journey begins here:

Agnetha Faltskog, Anni-Frid Lyngstad (Reuss), Bjorn Ulvaeus, and Benny Andersson--the four ABBA members, had attended and watched the premiere of the movie adaptation of the hit musical MAMMA MIA! in Stockholm Sweden.

Bjorn, Benny and Frida arrived separately. Agnetha's arrival appears to be unrecorded but then Frida and Agnetha surprised Meryl Streep on the red carpet and then Frida instigated a little

dance in a circle for the three of them.

Then ABBA appeared on the balcony with Benny and Björn at the far ends, and Agnetha and Frida in the middle and the film's actors separating A&F from B&B (so they STILL didn't appear together just the four of them!).

You can see the pictures here in these post! Enjoy,

I'm listening to Agnetha's rarity Every Good Man and the version of Mamma Mia sung by the marvelous Meryl Streep.

The present wife of Bjorn is music-journalist Lena Kallersjö while Benny's present wife is Swedish TV presenter Mona Nörklit

Agnetha is enjoying her life being recluse; Frida turned into a Swiss Princess.

You can see newspapers featuring this majestic movie premiere.

An Encounter (Major Revision)

Note: I have to revise, shorten and at the same time augment the article "An Encounter" for technical and clerical purposes. I hope this major revision would make the blog articulated with the essay's theme. I need to delete the first post, Thank You!

Stepping into one of the first platforms of a brand new life doesn’t come easy to me. Retiring from the high school furor and popularity and embracing the audacious challenge of the college life is like making an intrepid economic decision to rescue the national frugality. Honestly, I’m a little bit repugnant of knowing that my glorious high school days were gone. But, my metamorphosis is just starting; the best thing to do was to hit tenaciously, the superficial demand of the new chapter of life.

My real concern, aside from being flabbergasted with the walls of the University, is about the unusual subject engraved on my subjects list; Theology. At first, I’m rest assured that it would be just another lightweight academic unit since I’m a total believer because I have roots of a Catholic and was raised a Catholic. But, the perplexity about the subject matter of Theology and how could it help me as a freshman Accountancy student are worth answering. My troubled mind brought me in front of the popular Webster’s Dictionary to find out what does Theology mean. As it said, theology is the science which studies God and all that relates to him, including religion and morals. The definition enthralled my wholeness to give focus on the subject because it is the first time that I’ve heard a science that studies the Divine Creator. It also tends to focus on the interaction between God and the people (since we are all related to Him).

I was so excited to enter my ever-first Theology class. Our professor is laudable and a resolute type of person. My first time with this Theology had gone into ordinary. It is not until the second week that I have learned the true aim of the subject. Our professor challenged the class by portraying the role of an atheist. We all know that an atheist is a person that denies God and his existence. As a challenge, we must provide a logical and rational answer to his question if God really exists. Gosh! For the sixteen years of my subsistence, it is the first time that I was dumbfounded and silenced on my seat. I can’t talk and I can’t eventually construct the best sentence for my “supposed-to-be” answer. I’ve found out the paucity of producing the correct answers not only on my part but also to the part of my astonished classmates.

That encounter became the greatest “eye-opening” experience of my youth. I have learned the innate reason why I was silenced through the aid of reading the article that our professor gave to the class after the challenge---the result is no more and no less than my personal faith and conviction towards God. The class discussion had flogged my devotion as a Catholic denizen especially on the part when our professor again created a paradigm where we could reflect the incessant arrogance of the society towards the real teachings of the Church. It is a punitive fact to perceive that our faith is actually diminished if not annihilated by the social realities made by mankind.

As I have learned, we are only Catholics because of the ubiquitous reason---our parents are also Catholics. When we do religious deeds such as going to Church, practicing the sign of the cross, performing rituals and traditions of the established Church and hearing the Gospel, do we really feel the warmth and presence of God? We do these orthodox things not because we are devoted and have faith with it but because we are told to do so or we have already assumed these things to be mere indisputable social fact. We do not have faith in God but we do have faith in this inherited orthodox.

There are so many religious communities nowadays that encroaches God’s divine words and teachings. We have heard some but few were listened. Isn’t it confusing if we inculcate those preaching that are anxious? A speck of our social cancer is that we tend to do some things in reluctance. People often, decide and make choices without thinking any restraint and guilt on those actions. The worst scenario on our reluctance was its evidence on our religious activities. We tend to do them but we are not sincere on what are we doing and we don’t know why we are doing it.

It is also a disappointment upon learning that what we have utilized and practiced in religion for the course of centuries is just an exorbitant effort in pursuing the veritable meaning of religion and faith. On this part, the denial of God and his existence emerged on the society as the branded product of humans’ blasphemous ingenuity and inquiry that is commonly juxtaposed with the lack of appreciation on God and His words. This is more evident on the First World Countries.

We can’t find any obscurity when we got rational answers to our sometimes clairvoyant questions. The answers that are produced by science and technology are always paralleled with our own faith to God. What do we have in our minds is the cliché to see is to believe and the conflict of choosing between scientific explanations and Godly-principled facts that can answer our indirect inquiries. By these things we are again extending the big gap of faith into our lives.

What is the difference of the time we spent in text messaging and the time we spent communicating to God? Maybe we are again silenced by guilt. How could you intensify or find your faith and devotion to God when you attend the Church Mass just because you want to throw indulgence, wear your prettiest clothes and just make some naughty introspection to other Church-goers. It is not reasonable to see also the Church being thundered by tremendous rendezvous appointments made specifically by the trends of youth.

As I insist my insights with my pen I can’t expunge the determination of being more receptive in terms of integrating the gap between faith and ephemeral life. Studying theology, based on the personal output, is like an act of colluding in order to rescue a kidnapped celebrity. This celebrity is indeed our faith; our faith that needs righteous mitigation, our faith that pursue understanding and our faith that needs a formidable if not infallible beacon that can lead us into our own appreciation and devotion to life and to God. Theology is the beacon.

Life is very short and we are responsible for taking care of it. What would happen if we won’t be cognizant of essential things that God gave us? Some people would probably go again into researches and mathematical formulas to decrypt the answer. But, I believe some would go into pursuing the personal faith in order to find the best and fitting answer for it. In studying Theology I would expect that my life and my faith would be shaken and will move beyond my comfort zone. But I want my primordial faith to be articulated and be developed into maturity. I would talk to Him and ask Him for strength to survive this gigantic reality check on my life.

I believe that I could do prove it as I see myself sitting a new day for my Theology class. You! What would you do and where would you go?

Love is sometimes, Unkind

I don’t know how I could explain the feeling, but being rejected, persecuted and being troubled when it comes the love is one of the biggest lessons that I have learned in life. I’m not good at it; it’s so intimidating for me that I’m now appointing love as a failure and most of all, a disappointment.

Being young for love became the great barrier of my “infatuated” high school days. I became vulnerable with the physical attraction yet, numb and weak about the true presence of beauty. I admired her just because I love the way she interpret my favorite song, I became inclined to her just because I have seen the courage to point her the “happy life” that I want to attain and lastly, I loved her because I knew she’s the one making my life complete.

I’m facing the repercussions of saying the word I love you. At first, I’m hesitant to be vocal because I know that in the end, the winner will take it all. Of course, being cognizant with the consequences had boost my mind to do it but what do I expect to happen became a catastrophic point.

A lesson learned but the fact that I have nothing more to say paints my life black. Is saying the words of love a sin? Is it bad to say to the one you love that you love her?

Saying to the person that you love him or her is like submitting yourself to a hard responsibility. Some were accepted but many are rejected. The painful act makes me cry hard as I remember myself creeping out of the dark to cope my life without her.

Now that I heard someone speaking that they will be go strong, an inspiration suffused my heart and mind after my painful experiences blacksmith my consciousness and extensively to my knowledge.

I don’t have grown if I’m still upon her, she had found somebody but I’m still looking for the one, the one that will drove my feet from the ground. Maybe God is writing me the best love story that will transcend me from my raptures but I can’t find the way how, my heart is in total eclipse.

To all the hopeless romantics, remember that love has its own ways. We won’t find for it. Love, in time, will search for us. Our role for love was only to share and treasure not to maneuver and control. But love will first eat you up, kill you up, and will fatigue your heart.

So I think love is sometimes unkind!

The Raging 60's

What we have now when we think and see these scene?

You would probably ask, what are they doing,

Well, let's get all the clues for this British Invasion era of the hippie 1960's

In fact, The Beatles got to do with it; they have all the styles here in Abbey Road

starting from Lennon, Starr, McCartney and Harrison... Don't miss to include LMW controversy over there.

I want some reactions.... see ya soon