A Long-Term Relationship

I got acquainted with Writing when I was in High School. That was the period when all the other girls in school were hooked up with boys, kissing, and teenage drama. I was then in love with animes and books. There was a time when I thought some animes did not work according to how they should, and being an ambitious child with so many dreams, I thought I could do little changes in them. Little did I know that I was already into writing fanfictions.

My fantasy of rewriting fanfictions sugarcoated itself with a made-up dream of becoming a journalist. I got inspired by reporters and I had this fantasy of going to England through BBN to meet J.K. Rowling herself and thank her for introducing Harry Potter to the world. This was just a diversion though.

When I learned that there was a website called Fanfiction.net, I knew that Writing wanted to have a steady relationship with me. After reading things from the website, I thought it was my turn to share things to the world. There I started my long term relationship with Writing.

This relationship was not smooth sailing. I stumble and fall. Writing found me falling short of its standards. I could not express myself sufficiently and effectively. I misused words and tenses. Alas, I thought it would forever dump me.

But Writing was patient. It recommended reading books to widen my vocabulary. After a while, not only J. K Rowling inspired me. There were Jack London, J. R. R. Tolkien, Mark Twain, C. S. Lewis , etc. Writing also told me to practice and put extra effort in my writing assignments. It encouraged me to write more fanfictions as they trained my mind to weave plots and put words together like Lego Blocks. College became my official training ground. I failed several times. Funny though, that in the times that I stumbled I gained rewards.

Then came the challenges in our relationship. In every competition I joined in, I thought our bond was being tested. We proved to be unbreakable as I won them again and again. Every year, I made sure that I had my name on top. It was a proof that I was unwilling to break off this relationship. Every year, I renew our contract.

After 13 years of being in a relationship with Writing, I thought it was a little topsy-turvy. Sometimes we were at cold war and I wouldn’t be writing anything for days, even weeks. At times when it is smoothly sailing, I could write two short stories a day with a stanza of poetry at the side. I’m still looking for a stable relationship though. I need an assurance that Writing won’t ever leave me as I have promised to do the same. Although I don’t join contests anymore, I still write journals and blogs. I won’t let the fire die and leave this world with nothing to show for. I’m willing to have a long term relationship with Writing.

On Using Poems to Develop Productive Skills

I found this article from the literature category of www.teachingenglish.org.uk. It exemplifies how teachers can use poems as a springboard of their day's lessons.

After reading the article, I have come to realized some reasons that students have very shallow appreciation and interpretation of literature. Teachers themselves who are supposed to encourage students to study literary texts only use them to teach "more important" subjects and consider the entire process as teaching literature.

Since my Undergraduate Degree is teaching English and my Masters is Literature, I have conflicting perspectives on this article. Being a language teacher, I agree that Poetries are authentic texts. They are pretty short and accessible. Some short poetries are easy enough for students to read. Because of internet, looking for extremely short poetries is easier. However, not all poetries can serve the same purpose any time. One example is the very short Haiku. According to our class, before teachers can discuss Haiku, they should discuss Japanese ideologies first. The authenticity of the Haikus can also be questioned as they have already been translated from Japanese to English. Haikus may be easy to read but very difficult to interpret. They may be short but that does not mean they possess the same grammatical structure as how we use English in conversations. Another point to consider is not all students enjoy reading poetries. Some may even find them boring as their content is not literally manifested just like in short stories or novels. It will be very difficult to use them as tools to teach English grammar or even productive skills when the students aren’t even motivated to study poetry yet.

As a Literature Major, I appreciate how we can expose learners to Literature when we use poems for our motivational activities. However, this exposure, I think,  is not sufficient to encourage students to  have a deeper understanding of the text, and go look for more literary pieces on their own. For several years, Language teachers have used Literature only as a tool to deliver their subjects well and have forsaken the interpretation of the masterpieces. What is worse is they label this teaching as teaching of literature. As a result, students become disinterested in reading because they already anticipate the grammar rules that will follow. Little exposure then means little interpretation and even less appreciation.

Even though the objective of the article is only to teach productive skills and even though it claims that one does not need to be a literature expert to use poems in the classroom, I still believe that it takes a good Literature teacher to deliver a great lesson using poetry. One cannot give what he doesn't have. Maybe this is the reason students only study literature for its grammatical components because their teachers can only do so much.

On Hollander's "Teach the Books, Touch the Heart"

From time to time, teachers feel the need to exert more effort in ensuring students' learning. A part of us believe that our success in teaching is measured not only through our students' scores but their lives. Our highest goal becomes making them apply what they learn from Literature to their daily lives because Literature is the study of life. However, this application of learning seem impossible to measure.

In her article Teach the Books, Touch the Heart, published in New York Times, Claire Hollander discusses the ambiguity of assessing students' literary aptitude through objective types of tests.

She summarizes this ambiguity in three points:

1. reading classic literature does not guarantee high scores in national exams

2. appreciation of literary materials needs reliable assessment

3. assessing students' literariness cannot be done through objective tests.

She concludes her article by pointing out that school administrators need to have “extensive written examinations”. This, in the Philippine setting, is not plausible.

I agree that we have to measure our students' learning in different ways apart from multiple choice examinations. I also agree that learners have various ways of interpreting texts and this may be measured by essays. However, essays are not at all reliable. It is considered to be the most subjective among all the tests.

There are so many things to consider in administering essays to students. Among them are the freedom of students to choose their literary texts, the partiality of the instructor toward the subject, and the number of texts a student has to read and analyze, and thus the number of essays teachers have to check within a grading period.

            What the author wants to promote is too idealistic. In the Philippines, teachers have to handle several classes, each of which has 40 + students. Let us say, there are at least three reading tasks, and each task is to be assessed through an essay, that will mean 120 essays in one class for one term. If a teacher has 4 classes in a term, that will be 480 essays to read with varied lengths. A teacher does not only read essays in a semester. He or she has to make other tests, read more books, organize more lessons, etc. With barely five months, how can he or she juggle his/her responsibilities with checking written examinations? Moreover, how can the teacher prove fairness in judging the exams when exhaustion and biases hover in the process even with rubrics at hand? Loving Literature is not tantamount to loving writing. Not everyone likes to write particularly as a requirement. Not everyone can write magnificently.

There is also an issue of grammar.

Ms Hollander writes from a point of view of a Literature teacher handling only a handful of students. Her ideas are idealistic and they drive us back to our original objective of making students learn and love literature and not only pass standardized exams. However, in reality, true appreciation of literature is exhibited in different forms that are difficult to assess. One thing that makes testing easier is the presence of objective exams.

On Teaching Literature (I. Cruz) and Teaching Classic Literature Classically (A. Kurn)

In his article, Teaching Classic Literature Classically, Andrew Kurn summarizes the classical process of teaching in four stages: clarifying the purpose, deliberating materials, reading contemplatively, and teaching intentionally.

Kurn believes that the ultimate purpose of a literature teacher is to cultivate wisdom and virtue and I acknowledge this. The other stages however have triggered numerous questions and reactions in my mind.

Kurn says that teachers must select books with ‘virtues to imitate.’ I don’t exactly agree on this as I think that the preference of materials must reflect the purpose of teaching. If the purpose is to magnify beauty and goodness, then choose works with heroes and their extraordinarily good deeds. If the goal is to open the learners' minds to reality, choose pieces that don’t hold bars. As teachers, we often want students to learn morals from texts but we have to remember that many great literary pieces were not written with the same purpose. We cannot assume and we must not teach students to assume that writers always want to instill lessons in their works.

Kurn continues that educators can choose between didactic (contemplating models) and Socrates (exploring opinions) approaches, both of which are done inside the four corners of the classroom. This raises another question: if we are teaching our students about the study of life, why are we boxing their literary lives in the classroom?

Students respond to technology. They are more likely to read Facebook status and ‘like’ Instagram photos rather than listen to ala-Socrates teachers sharing knowledge in masterpieces of the past. They are more into seeing movie versions of the great novels rather than read the book themselves. How are teachers going to cope up with this budding need to be educated and entertained at the same time?

I have expected the article to enlighten me on making classic literature less boring for learners, given the advance technological age that we are in. However, it sticks to the traditional way of teaching literature as it has promised in its title Teaching Classic Literature Classically the last word now reads as ‘conventionally’. In this Digital Age, when telephone companies and gadget manufacturers release new phones, computers, softwares, and applications every week, and even a five-year-old kid knows how to use iPad, Kurn’s idea of teaching Classic Literature the classic way seems remotely outdated.

Apart from having classic books downloadable as ebooks in iPhone, how else can classic literature invade our learners’ lives?

 “The world has changed, the world is changing, the world will change. The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

Isagani Cruz explains this in his article, Teaching Literature in The Philippine Star. Since the teaching of literature is a very old specialization, instead of trying to come up with ‘new’ techniques, educators can improve old techniques that are uploaded in the World Wide Web. What he does in his lectures is not very far from what Kurn has mentioned in his article. Cruz has come up with his own class paradigm called FREE (Feeding the text, Reading the text, Enhancing the text, and Enjoying the text). He improves the ‘classic’ teaching by showing different videos in class. He also divides the time allotted for Socrates-discussion so learners will have enough time to discuss their opinions in class, the author can ‘talk’ through the texts, and leaves 10 % of his time for discussion. Most importantly, he emphasizes that ‘good literature teachers always relate a literary text, no matter how old or foreign, to today’s newspaper headlines.’

Students can be asked to ‘tweet’ significant lines from novels. They can be asked to blog about their reactions on poetries. They can be asked to show photos that capture themes of short stories.

Literature is a study of life. Educators must not only aim to successfully deliver their literary lessons to students. Their goal must be to let Literature influence the lives of the learners. As Victor Ordoñez said, “We cannot equip the youth of the future with the tools of the past.” The classic way of teaching is not totally bad but it needs enhancement. If educators won’t be updated with the latest trends in teaching Literature, students won’t find time to squeeze in ‘boring’ classics in their fast paced, technology-packed, highly interactive lives even when their gadgets are practically full of Classic Literature ebooks.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall: Women and Vanity

While Russ and I were loitering in SM North, I saw two advertisements of Snow White adaptations: one with Kristen Stuart and the other with Julia Roberts. These ads reminded me of the wicked stepmother's line 'Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?' I found it funny that coincidentally, the night before, I had seen an animation which tackles vanity in one of its episodes. I smirked as I came to a conclusion that I had been surrounded by a 'controversial' topic but I totally took it for granted: women's narcissism.

 

Women, more than any other species in this world, love to look at their reflection. Wherever we go, we always bring mirror with us. If in case we have forgotten to bring one, which I doubt any self-conscious woman will, we always go on field trips to nearby restrooms. If there are none, which is close to impossible of course, we always find ways to look at ourselves through mirror substitutes like windshields of cars, windows of houses and establishments, spoons, CDs, and lately, phones particularly the dual camera ones.

We check our hair, makeup, clothes, facial expressions, zits etcetera wherever we go whenever we want to. It would have been a normal thing had we, women, stayed that way. But no, we just have to check the reflection of those beside us and compare-you got that right-compare ourselves to them. We check their hair, makeup, clothes, and facial expressions. This habit either makes or breaks our day. If the other woman is prettier, sexier, cooler, then most probably we end up feeling so bad about ourselves. If she is not so pretty, we feel great and confident. Is it then hasty to conclude that mirrors spite envy?

I am not sure if this behavior is what old folks saw in women that they were able to create Snow White or the evil stepmother and pass the responsibility to the Brothers Grimm. If it is, then it is such a shame for us women to be compared to a witch. This makes to-be-like-Snow White even more appealing to us. However, the downside still is as we strive to look like her, we keep on being like the other woman instead. We just cannot stop comparing.

I recall what Sunako has said in Yamato Nadeshiko Shichi Henge (Wallflower), the animation that I watched last weekend, that if we could stop trying to be 'ladies' then we wouldn't have any problem. She shares that we only put unnecessary load on ourselves as we keep on comparing our very own miserable identities to 'dazzling creatures.' Therefore, she concludes, that we must destroy all the mirrors in our houses. She proceeds to annihilate all of the mirrors in the house and even trashes the vanity things including cosmetics and perfume.

Isn't it great?

Therefore we only have two ways to solve this prevalent issue. One is to break all of the mirrors at home if we can’t stop comparing ourselves to others. The other solution is stop comparing ourselves to others if we can’t live without our mirrors.

As for me, I will just see the Snow White adaptations and pity the evil Stepmother as much as I pity insecure yet ironically vain women. Then, I will watch Wallflower some more. I can use some optimism in this world.

let's VOLT in

I have been using my notebook for about two years and two months now so it is but natural that it begins showing some signs of aging. Also, it has gone through a lot from my mom's Zuma adventure, my father's chess tournament (himself vs. the computer), my brothers' sounds and games, and my consistent web surfing and blogging. I am not worried about its system breaking down any minute since Russ is there to help me any time. What I am worried about are the external devices of my computer because no matter how much I take care of them, they deteriorate. An example of which is the charger.

If ever I wouldn't be able to beat my blogging record in February last year, I would be blaming my nice little charger. It has not been working properly for days and last Tuesday it completely has stopped working. I have tried all that I could for it including talking to it-yes I have!—and putting rubber bands on it so the cable would stay in place. All my efforts have been rendered futile. Now, I am anxious since I have a total of seven blog posts last year in February and this year, I haven't even blogged about my brother's wedding, my anxiety for our first concert, my newly bought cactus, and the condition of my boyfriend. It's all because of the blasted charger and its inconsistencies.

I have lots of deadlines including the finalization of the playlist my club is going to use for the concert, the grades I am supposed to pass this Saturday and other things I need to attend to this month. This condition of my charger adds up to my stress. The fact that the salary is a week way does not help.

 I am just blessed that I have somebody who is always there to help. With the permission of his parents, Russ has lent me his family’s notebook. This is what I am using for making the grades and I am proud to say that I have been able to finish computing the grades of my students in one day. I am still in the middle of encoding them. I have been able to publish one blog post for February and this will be the second one. I have to be more responsible in using this computer since this is not mine and that means finishing my requirements before the time. Thanks to Russ and his notebook, I am able to accomplish these things.

Hopefully, I will be able to have my notebook up and running again after a week. It is really difficult not having it around since I use it every day. My only resolution right now is to take care of my charger well. Perhaps it will last longer, even by day.

Lesson 1: Back to Basics

Haughty and naughty students who don't like to be reprimanded usually think that they can just treat teachers as people who only work in order to feed themselves and their family members. They think that the lives of their professors lie in their hands. What is worse is they make us, teachers, look stupid. These notions are a crap if not ridiculous. One thing students often forget is why they call their professors, instructors, and proctors 'teachers.'

Perhaps, some examples can enlighten their deprived minds.

We can inspire and motivate people who already have goals in their lives. We only need to nourish these goals, and help our students go to the right path. Flexible that we are, we can do this in our out of the academe. Teachers can go to different schools. As long as we have our license we can teach anywhere. And even without license, we can venture into other jobs. We can go to call centers, or even become event’s organizers. On the other hand, students, once kicked out, can never go to any. It will take a long time for them to get their act together and start anew. There are exemptions to this of course but they are scanty otherwise nobody will go to school anymore.

Second reason that students must be on their toes is there are many students in the world who deserve the instructors' best efforts. We don't like wasted effort-nobody likes it in the first place. I, for one, don't bother myself caring for those who do not want to help themselves. I rather be stuck with bookworms who forsake their lunches for good reads than teach those who make my blood boil. I rather comfort below-average students who still follow my instructions than those who think they are high and mighty. The point is, if some students don’t like listening and participating in our class discussions, the teachers only need to interact with those who show interest in learning. We will not forsake those who depend on us. We are neither caregivers nor nannies who follow their bosses around. We make Bosses.

Lastly, one of the reasons we are called teachers is we have gone through series of studies and tests which not all students can go through. Students can't even pass regular quizzes, how much more a nationally standardized examination. Giving us alibis for their violation of classroom regulation is an insult to our intellect. Trying to pit their pride against our pride is a mismatched challenge because we belong in a different level.

It is high time that these irresponsible students know who they fight against. We are not ordinary persons who wear stifling clothes to look formal, makeup to look older, high-heeled shoes to look respectable. We have already succeeded our trials in order for us to be where we are right now. A challenge coming from a stray batch of school sheep is but an ordinary case for us that we are willing to take any time of the day—except when we are at home, that is—knowing and believing that in a school, there are more students who are willing to learn than those who throw their lives and their parents’ toil away.

We are not only teachers. We are Professional Teachers and it takes more than just a bunch of rowdy kids to take this title away from us. 

Stalky & Co.-Defying 'Three is a Crowd'

Thursday, January 19, 2012

1:33 PM

3 is not my favorite number. Whenever I am asked to give a number out of the recesses of my subconscious, I often say seven and not three. But quite inexplicably, the digit 3 has become a part of my life.

For one, three is the most abused number in English. Most people particularly those whose mother tongue is not English, this number is often times read, said, blurted out as 'tree.' As a language teacher, it has been my responsibility and, lately, my goal, to correct this mispronunciation.

Secondly, my closest friends usually come in threes or we make up a group of three. When I was in high school I used to write this story/drama/novel (depending on what I wanted to call it when I was young) about my circle of friends who I thought would be with me to the ends of the Earth. Both of them  were smart (forgive me for the use of the past tense since I could not speak for their current capabilities)--one was good in Math, the other in subjects related to memorizing things. I did not excel in neither, just the average but I can I say I started to show my aptitude in languages back then. Right now, I don't even know where they are and I don't seem to care much about their activities.

When I got to the University, my closest friends came from a different batch, different majorship that at first it was most unlikely that we would stick together for a very long time. I am glad to note that they remain my closest friends, Kath and Grace. We got closer because of our school organization, PNU-SG Commission on Elections. I can say that we were the pillars of that organization when we were still in school. We underwent series of trials, hardening questions, harboring grudges and all but we stood tall. Eventually we became friends.

When I started working, I hung out with Louie and Edison, technically my seniors in the University and in the workplace. One would think there would be a gap among us but I am glad to say there was none. They were the reasons why the workplace seemed less stressful for me.

Working for Korean companies, I met friends who shared the same behavior and ideas. If my  memory serves me right, I have written things about them in my blog before and our adventure still goes on. One of the groups I belonged to was EpFour, established to divert my friends and my attention from our depressing work area. Our life then seemed to be so routinary and boring that we looked forward to our after-work meetings. Aside from that, the four of us, Maria, Maiden, Jaina and I, had the same drama and anime addictions. We even had characters that fit our attitude well. The next group I belonged in the same workplace was the Hyotei group, consisted of fanfiction writers that have developed a similar liking for a club in Prince of Tennis, Hyotei. I do not consider it as my favorite team but one of my favorite characters comes from that group. I call Maria Atobe until now because of her similarity with the Hyotei King. Instead of calling Cheska Kabaji, I call her Chezuka because she also has an attachment to the Seigaku leader but in the Hyotei Gakuen, she prefers to be called Kaba-chan because she has a stronger preference for brawny characters than bespectacled ones. As for me, in Hyotei Gakuen, I am Oshitari, the sarcastic "soft-spoken" tensai who never fails to contradict Atobe. Outside of the group, I am either called FujiEiji or Niou.

Third point why I say three has become part of my life, I have this inexplicable attachment to novels with three main characters such as Three Musketeers and Harry Potter. When I was in high school I have a lot of websites about Three Musketeers, I frequented the library for information about Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. Instead of reading pocketbooks like what my classmates used to read, I read, thought, and dreamed about my musketeers and how it would feel like living in France. In my addiction I even wrote an essay--not a good one, mind you--about Alexandre Dumas.

Though he doesn't exactly share his limelight, Harry Potter is often seen with his best friends Ron and Hermione. I have been addicted to them since high school. I have followed their adventure from Philosopher Stone to Deathly Hollows.

When I thought this subconscious addiction to three would stop there then comes the Trilogy of the Lord of the Rings. How crazy is that?

Just lately I buried my head in Rudyard Kipling's novel Stalky & Co. It took me a long while to finish that thin book. At first I could not get the hang of the dialogues in it but the setting of the story helped me a lot as it is a school. The story revolves around this three...I repeat...three boys who excel in different fields but do not run out of naughtiness. Stalky is the leader who can worm his way out of any trouble because of his expertise in spoken language. He is quite witty. M’Turk is a placid guy who storms up when triggered and he has a great aptitude in Latin. Beetle on the other hand is a poet who vents his emotions on paper or anything he can write his thoughts on.

 They, often reprimanded by the school masters and heads, are the pioneers of naughtiness and chaos in school. They don’t care much about rules and stuff. What they know is they have to go to school because their esteemed parents want them to in order for them to become good citizens of their country. As any other students, Stalky, M’Turk, and Beetle use the school as their playground instead.

The book reminded me of how I studied seriously in high school and not so seriously in college. How I made fun of the teachers I did not like particularly those who would just go to school, give us things to do without teaching us anything.

What is more is that the book finally solidified why three seems to be a good number for friends. I cannot imagine ‘Stalky and M’Turk’ tandem without missing Beetle, and it goes for any other tandem missing out a person. In the friendship of three, there may be a stronger bond between two friends, it won’t be the same as having all three together. What is more is there are times one finds himself extremely different from the other that there should be another person to smoothen the relationship. My friends and the books I have read prove this.

If Stalky, M’Turk and Beetle were alive, I would have thanked them. I haven’t examined my life from this angle until now. Who would have thought that the number three has been a very significant digit for me? Even though my favorite number will never be three, I will give more justice to it. Learning that I haven’t been a victim of “three is a crowd,” and I can’t remember a time when that number has done me wrong, I guess it is time for a different perspective. The proper way of putting it will be “the Power of Three.” 

Confessions of a Heels-Freak

"Jahzeel Dionne Ybasco.

Occupation- English Professor in a private college.

Jacket- Beverly Hills & Co.

Outfit- any department store

Belt- YRYS

Bag- Grab

Shoes- Finikee"

If you're familiar with the movie Confessions of a Shopaholic, you can accuse me of copying the catchphrase of the film (If you haven't seen the film, it is now the time to see it). I have seen it for the nth time and to this day, I am trying to imagine how I will look, wearing those fashionable clothes and shoes in the movie.

You can say that it has grown on me. To be more precise, I am addicted to movies featuring women wearing high heels. I have abused my VLC player playing Legally Blonde 1 and 2, 500 Days of Summer etc. I have looked into my music videos, checked the songstresses' shoes, boots, sandals, and wondered how they could dance and sing wearing those feet-suffocating things--didn't they have cramps?

Confessions of a Shopaholic is not different. It features a brunette who likes shopping for clothes, bags, and shoes. Probably she likes shopping for other things but I am not sure since I haven’t read the novels where the movie has come from. Before you have a false idea that this is a review, let me just burst your bubble-THIS IS NOT A REVIEW. Point is, she shops a great deal particularly shoes.

She has one shelf of sandals, clogs, open-toed, and closed shoes in various colors. Throughout the movie, she runs, walks, and dances with them. I can't help but admire her endurance to leg cramps. I even wonder what training she does in order for her to walk with them. There are times I think I cannot wear those heels.

But I am trying. Hard. Trying hard.

Last Christmas, Russell gave me a pair of high-heel black shoes from Finikee. To be more precise, he had asked me what I wanted and we went around looking for a good pair of shoes.

The heels are higher than my grey ones, to which I am quite shocked. Since I have had a hard time using the grey, what more can I experience with the new ones?

It has been three days now since I have started using the heels. I think I am getting used to it. I have noticed that descending the stairs is easier now. I even started running with them. My co-teachers have asked me already if I have experienced using it from home to school and back. I am afraid to try it. I still am not a Rebecca Bloomwood and I have no plans of being one (except the part where she is writer in a magazine) so I think there is no way I can use heels for that long. I can bear using it for professional reasons. Even more of a reason is I want to value the person who has given the shoes.

"Instead of having a relationship with  my credit card, I now have a relationship to someone who loves me back and never declines me."

bestseller

A story can have more than one interpretation. It can be approached, inspected let's say, in different points of view. As readers, we have the right to choose whose side we are going to take, whose philosophy we are going to believe, whose ideology we are going to follow and live up to as our own principle. We have the right to choose our favorite characters even if it means deviating from the author's will of protagonists and antagonists. Still, the Author has the final say to whatever it is going to happen in the story--except if the reader insists making his own version and come-up with good fanfictions.

My life is a story. It is a novel that keeps on unraveling until I die. My life is an open book and people judge me either through what I want them to see or what THEY want to see. The same way, I look at them like how I look at books in a library where they sit in one corner sometimes forgotten and taken for granted, in a bookstore where they were dressed to impress consumers, and in my home where they were perused and sometimes scattered about.

I buy different books, read a lot, and favored some. I forget the books that I dislike or plain uninteresting, or unimportant and reread the ones that fancy my interest, and help me develop.

I pick my protagonists among the million characters in those novels and compilation of short stories. I pick the language that I am more comfortable with. When I dislike one plot, I don't care be it Shakespeare's or Hemingway's, I chuck the novel and get something new.

It is the same process I use with people. Of course, there is a very clean line between people and books and I know that. Still, isn't it funny that we forget those people we don't like and unimportant to us the same way we forget the characters in novels, even short stories that we find boring? Isn't it funny that we choose to believe our friends no matter what they tell us the same way we believe the "Diet for Dummies"? We don't like lending our favorite books to just anybody but to somebody we trust the like how we are overprotective and even possessive of our dearest friends. 

Just like with books written by authors we admire, we choose to believe those people that matter, who are interesting.

In my library, I have a number of favorite books. One of them is named Katherine Embudo Vera.

I think I have made my point.

sunset from my--and my brothers'--room

“Do I easily get tired of people?” is one question I often ask nowadays. There are some instances in my life that I let go of people as soon as I meet them. I even cut ties from ‘friends’ I have been with for a long time. The answer has come to me sooner than I have expected and as usual, God has played tricks and He has sent it through the most unlikely person and thing. I don’t easily get tired of people. I only lose my interest in those who don’t offer much challenge because I can’t see myself growing with them.

I live in this Earth for a purpose worth of more than being stagnant water in some dirty canal. There is no room in my social bubble for those who can’t strive with me. If society can be symbolized by the ecosystem, I’d rather be the weed competing for sunlight than a blossom plagued with aphids. Flowers wither and die. Weeds—well, you can see them even in unexpected places.

spending time for myself

Before we enjoyed the blessed three-day Chuseok break(that is Thanksgiving day in Korea, and Moon-Cake festival in China if I'm not mistaken), I had listed 4 things I had really wanted to do alone for the holidays:

1. 1.      See a movie
2. 2.      Bike somewhere quiet
3. 3.      Audition in a singing competition and
4. 4.      Ride a roller coaster

• I had promised epfour I would not do number four without them so I did not. Anyway, there are certain things one enjoys more when he or she has company and going to an amusement park is one of them. I am sure I would still scream my heart out in one of the rides had I gone alone but I think I would not stand seeing groups of people sharing their excitement while waiting in line. How awkward it would be for me to be excited all alone waiting for my turn to ride. I simply wanted and still want to try it out on my own since most people don’t—meaning just for the sake of being different.
• 
  
• I did not see any opportunity for number three. I searched far and wide but I could not come across signs indicating opened auditions. Certainly, nobody goes to a non-existent audition. Had there been, I know it would be quite difficult to shove my way in. Most judges prefer singers who stretch their vocal chords with ear splitting notes than those who really hit the notes. Nonetheless, it would have been worth a try.
• 
  
• It was raining in the past three days. Naturally, the roads were slippery for biking. Aside from that, I could not remember any quiet place in Metro Manila—not that it would really matter. I usually hit the roads with music banging in my ears anyway. I would not make any difference at all whether I was biking in Manila or along the yellow-brick-paved road to Oz. More importantly I devoted most of my three days for sleeping for at least 8 hours a day and catching up on my reading (goodness knows how many books I have to read. Now that I have numerous ebooks in my computers both at home and at work, I don’t have any excuse.). I remember waking up knowing I had something important to do but I shrugged it off. Man! What could be more important to a sleep-deprived working girl than a full rest?
• 
  
• I went to see a movie instead. A 15Php movie—cheap one, I’m running out of funds(had to save up for my youngest brother). The movie was Letters to Juliet. The experience, movie-watching alone, would not have bothered me so much since it was not the first time.  I was just unfortunate to watch the movie with people with double-digit I.Q.’s- the type of crowd that doesn’t laugh at the good lines but laughs and jeers at the minutest display of intimacy. I had fun though when they made fun of the already pathetic situation.  I did not have any reason to complain since I paid it cheap. Aside from that, I felt as if I was surrounded by all of the people I met in my life and we were sharing a good hearty laugh at something we finally agreed to laugh at for the first time. What spoiled most of the movie viewing probably was my expectation that it was something worthier than 15php.

One out four—not bad. Had I been lazier I might not have accomplished any. Besides, I did things I had not included in the list like going somewhere where I wanted to without any purpose (I went to Shaw, then to Cubao, finally to SM Manila). As a conclusion (it has been a while since I used this expression to end my journal) I enjoyed spending the time for myself. Definitely, that won’t be the last of my escapades.

ways to deal with The Indifferent

People don’t have to tell you they don’t like you. You just know that they don’t. They don’t talk to you. They don’t want to spend time with you. They don’t give you a fraction of their time. To summarize, they do things you don’t want them to and they don’t do things you want them to. (Game: Please count the number of do’s and don’ts in this entry)

The funny thing is sometimes they treat you as an unimportant piece of their lives for no apparent reason. They just do. Most of the time, without even meaning to—they’re completely unaware or worse, indifferent.

So what’s your next action?

1) Approach them—this is a big NO NO! Whoever told you that approaching these gods actually lead to good results, he is completely mistaken or quite lucky to have found one who returned his greeting. If these cold people want to talk to you, they should have at least showed inkling that they are open. You wouldn’t be having problems in the first place! What about the ‘introverts’? Please forget the idea that they need help—that they need you to reach out to them. These loners are professionally called introverts because they have chosen it. Or they like it. Who are you anyway to try to change their minds to what they are used to? Nah. You are your own superhero—NOT THEIRS. Besides, where did you hear that you can make friends by saying, “Hey, I like you.”

2. Please them—Oh, Please! You’ll only make a fool of yourself. You don’t aim to be their entertainer or worse nanny in the first place, right? If you’ll keep pleasing them, you’ll eventually tire yourself and wonder why. Before you regret it, avoid it. And think about it: if you really can please them, there is no reason for them to blot you out of this world. Here’s the ugly truth (try imagining Gerard Butler saying this): the more you try to please them, the more they resent you.

Effort counts in friendship. But this doesn’t count. You’re not friends yet, Stop dreaming.

3. Ignore them—Who cares? You might think this is the best way but ask yourself: have you ever looked at something you really like to eat? Have you tried ignoring it? If you have experienced the same situation, you know what I mean. The more you try to pay no attention to those persons, the more you think about them, the more you want to talk to them.

Hey! If you want to make them feel they don’t matter, the more you prove that they do, otherwise, you won’t be making an effort.

What is the best way then to deal with the indifferent? LET THEM BE. Greet them if that’s how friendly you are but don’t dare to invade their space bubbles. Why do you like them to be your friends anyway?

What are you so afraid of? That because they aren’t your friends, they might be your enemies? There goes self-importance again! Why would they want to be your enemies? Are you important? You may think so, but they don’t. Believe me. People make enemies of those who they think are of their equal importance—most of the time, superior. Did they hurt you already? Did they show signs of opposing you? Nada. You wished they had, but they didn’t. They are plain indifferent—ok I’ll favor you this time—or ignorant of your existence.

Probably they just don’t have time. Or they have so many friends already they can’t accommodate you anymore. Which one will you favor: people who tell you they are your friends but you end up being the excess baggage or those people who directly show you signs that you can’t really be their friend—they just can’t see you as a potential-friend?

Death has been confronting me from all sides.

Death has been confronting me from all sides. The first time was when I almost lost my life in a hold-upping (is there such a word) scene. The second confrontation was when I learned that my highschool classmate and buddy Jerome Juralbal died because of his eye infection. The third one was when I was informed that my high school principal died.

I am afraid of death, definitely. I am so afraid of it that I don’t want it to catch me off guard. I want to face it bravely. I just can’t stop with being afraid of it. I know I couldn’t possibly avoid Death just like I can’t avoid being afraid of Freddy Kruger. But I can definitely do something to make my life worthwhile—spend every minute of my life by savoring the fact that it’s good to be alive.

 As much as possible, I make every day special. I keep records of my daily experiences because I don’t want to be remembered as just another person who has lived. No one knows when I will be gone.

I don’t know why but it concerns me that I should finish all of my desires before I die. But of course, it would be very impossible to do that. My life is not a version, of Nicholas Sparks’ “A Walk to Remember.” I cannot depend on somebody to fulfill my dreams for me because, as it is, that somebody is yet to be given to me. All I can do for the mean time is to spend time with people special to me, be they friends or family. To tell them how much they mean to me. And to create memories that can mean me so much to them.

This might sound pathetic. But I can’t let these thoughts be buried with me until god-knows-when, literally and figuratively.

being organized for the sake of lappy

.since lappy is here, i can't find any reason for me not to organize my files. from pictures, to vids, to literature. so, i'm proud to annonce that i made a new blogspot acct to store my essays, poems, and stories.

for those who are checking my blog (i know a few who do--pity them..hehe peace) for literary pieces if you find them literary enough for your taste, just go to www.walaakongkwenta.wordpress.com or walaakongkwenta.deviantart.com, or yet www.inkspillsandblots.blogspot.com

For those who are used to my usual rants, don't you worry--or should i say, worry..hehe-- i will still be using this as a sort of breather (feeling sikat lang kumbaga hehe)

ciao..

terrific trio--one of those uncelebrated anniversaries

8 November 2005-- we were formed because of an aim to serve the PNU community through an honest election. We weren't united because of the thick bond called friendship, but a strong purpose to serve. But we ended up fulfilling our duties to the students and to one another and we, Grace Ann S. Estores, Katherine E. Vera, and I, became friends.

We started our journey together when we promised to hold on and keep the spirit of the once-dying-PNU-COMELEC. In that dark room, bereft of electricity, left by the "trusted" Chairman, we made vows of building the organization, returning it to its stature. With those vows, we committed ourselves to a relationship that neither distance nor ideologies could break but challenge.

It took us series of tribulations to measure the strength of our friendship. After four years, I am glad to find that we still have each other to cry upon, to share. Distance and ideologies are still our best antagonists but they don't keep us apart that much.

Of course it is natural that since we aren't in the same school and organization now, we live separate lives. We have our secrets we dare not reveal each other but that is a part of friendship--honoring each other. We respect and trust one another so much that we need not know every thing. We value our bond more than we value our individual differences.

A year passed with its silent celebration. Another year will turn. Another year will witness how far our friendship can go. Nobody can say whether we will drift closer or apart. But we can always choose. As for me, as long as I have the chance, I will make our friendship better.

the scream of silence

...funny that through turbulent times I find myself silent. Quiet. Intense emotions grope my heart that not a word escapes my mouth.

I find myself fascinated by the way things move about, interlaced, tangled,bound to lead from one thing to another. I feel that if I say something, do something, these moving things, these course of events will change their paths. So I keep quiet. And I accept the pounds, the scratches, the punches with open arms.

and I find myself satisfied. Somehow I begin to uderstand that the world is not about ME only. I am but a piece, a minute piece of my own existence. I can control my decisions, my choices. But I cannot control how the world moves.

I am an individual. But I am a part of the world.

i am wondering who knack really is

I was in high school when I started to write petty "novelettes" that run from 16-24 episodes. Why episodes? I was thinking of becoming a professional manga writer that time so my plots were episodic--divided into scenes even.

I 'finished' three 'books': MWF Knights which I dedicated to some peers, MickDenz which I did when I was still cheesy and all, and Azalea Azure (Strips of Light) which I am currently editing.

I asked my high school classmates to read my works since I was craving for attention--being a member of the honor society had its advantages and one of them was being socially unaccepted.

It was a good thing that the females reacted good naturedly about them. They were even decent enough to ask me what I planned to do next. Imagine the horror and disappointment I got when I asked the guys to criticize my works.

I would no thave been half so sad had I been close to the girls (which I was but not quite). However, being surrounded by overprotective boys at home, I felt it was asecond nature for me to be close with some of the boys at school.

Close as I was to them, they did not spare me and my humble masterpieces. they did not even glance at them.

Grr.

But my disappointment and frustration is not what I am supposed to write about here.

So moving on...

I settled myself asking girls about what they thought of my projects. They were able to get me through my first 2 works. I was so proud of myself back then that I forgot to breathe and started a new one, Azalea Azure.

Azalea Azure was supposed to be about a transferee adopting to a new school which is somehow similar to the story line of High School Musical. The difference is Azalea doesn't sing. She dances. And she transfered to Centerville High in her third year.

Also, Vim Havey is not the super bascketball player of the school--he's the vice captain unlike Troy Bolton who is always in the limelight.

One of the characters in Azalea Azure (Strips of Light, the edited version of AA is coming soon) is Knack Kaiser who is originally an imitation of Rukawa Kaede of Slam Dunk. He is a freshman competing against Vim in basketball.

knack- ability
kaiser- German emperor

One thing I put into Knack Kaiser is my voice. He is my mouth piece in the story. It is just unnerving that I had to put him somewhere at the 5th chapter just to establish the Azalea-Vim story (I am editing it now, most probably he'll come a little bit earlier).

As far as i can remember, I wasn't really the grade conscious girl that they thought I was. Probably just along the competitive line. Grades don't matter to me much up until now. What I was and still am after is the praise and acknowledgement that go along with the grades. In short, I could not be Azalea.

Next, although I am a fan of basketball, I could not and cannot find the proper words to use in describing the intense emotions evoked by the game. Definitely unlike Vim Havey. For his character I had and have to consult my brothers, watch NBA, and rewatch events in Slam Dunk.

So where does Knack come in. He comes in at the part when things become cofusing. He was and still is the silent type. One that intimidates without doing anything. That is how I like to picture myself. All my frustrations, all my angst and all my moodswings are vented out through him.

At the time my classmates read the (original) chapter 5, they figured out one thing.

Before I graduated from high school, a number of classmates already had tagged me as 'Knack' which was and is an advantage. I need not fuss over people claiming difficulty in pronouncing my name since I have a nickname I can boast. That is one of the reasons I use "knack"

The problem I see now is I am lost in using the name. Am I still to use it when I edit the story or should I use another name?

I am lost: am I trying to live up to the name or I am simply trying to tell every one that there is one one word that sums me up.

not worthless.

but knack.