Fatal Attraction

Here you are again, in the verge of confusion and uncertainty and only listening to some good old songs will make the wind you breathe suck out every poison that wants to conquer your every veins. The rain outside is cruel. Every hair strands of yours could not forget how much coldness they can bear to withstand the cruelty of the rain. To wipe every mud on your face, to kill every maggots infesting your blood, to make yourself feel like you’ve never lived life before. You would want to see how long will you drive without breaks on your pedal. Up to where you can reach with your idiosyncrasy while you race with bloodthirsty and smug faced bunnies en route. No there ain’t no need to step back. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Breaking the mirror of lies won’t do any magic between spotting the difference and playing hide and seek in this crazy course of life. Friends welcome you to their doors. Enemies welcome you where coffee tables are served with hot Belgian sweets and spoiled Cuban chills, without telling you how long have they been waiting for you to bite pawns of deception. They swang you to and fro, and tied the knots where yews grow and quicksands hungry to devour whatever power left in you. Tears just can’t stop from streaming down and no matter how you wanted to put pressure on, it will leave you asking why would it always burst without you knowing when it will burst. Stripped down to the core, a teddy bear sat like a stone amidst the showcase of mannequins and marionettes, jampacked inside a toy store where no one would ever dare to peek for pleasure. Trapped down to the dungeon, a lion nesting with lies, insecurities and regrets, waiting for a meat to be tossed that seemed to him like an impossible dream. You were ugly and you became beautifully broken. Like a porcelain vase that lost its value from being shattered. You waited for the bus to come and fetch the wounded leg which was worn out and hopeless to support whatever’s up there to support. Life has become tiresome. You whispered more for life but neither a single molecule have captured the echo of a disappearing voice. I am me and the world is just so big for me. I would crouch whenever a thunder strikes above my head and would cry for shelter. I am me and I live in this world of no assurance. I am me and I will always live being me.

Good news for the nerds who can’t find escape from always being bullied, for the heartbroken emo kids who don’t have to slit their wrists, and for the office people who just can’t take their hard-to-deal-with bosses. This is your perfect chance to take revenge. Here comes the Death Note to remedy all your hypertension and headache to every whammies who’ve been cursing your life to death. But how does it work? Well it’s as easy as A-B-C. You just have to write their names on the notebook and after a few seconds, their hearts will beat like crazy and die. Ooh! Interesting eh? Wanna know more? You can also customize how you want them to die like you’d want to let them dance the ocho-ocho non-stop until they run out of breath or give them flying abilities and let them soar up the stormy sky and be hit with high voltage electricity. Whatever you want to happen, it will come true since your wish is the Death Note’s command.

Unfortunately, someone has already owned the Death Note and the lucky name goes to..(drumroll!) Light Yagami!, a university law student who abhors crime and corruption in the society. Until one night, he discovered the Death Note which was owned by a shinigami (Japanese death god) named Ryuk. With the aid of a private system of an intelligence group in Japan, he was able to track the records of every notorious criminals and wrote their names on the Death Note. He became known to the public as “Kira”, the savior of mankind, the protector of the oppressed and the superhero of the generation (’though he have to hide his face for his own security). The massive death of these law-breakers alarmed the International Police Organization who eventually sent one of the world’s best detective “L” to investigate on this mysterious case. At the latter part of the film, Light finds himself in conflict with “L” and the rest of the investigation crew as his identity was slowly unveiling. Desperate to keep his secrecy, he even plotted the death of his own girlfriend Shiori through the power of the killer notebook.

One thing that makes me a sucker for the movie is the weirdo detective himself “L”. His unbelievable critical thinking skills and his out-of-this-world mannerisms, (like his addiction to sweets and squatting, his way of holding objects with un-clawed fingers pointing upwards and his lowly posture) showed how cute guys could become “aliens” too. Like me*. Kidding. But what’s best about the film is that it teaches us that there is no such thing as a perfect society. There will always be people who would lose their way and would try any means, even taking anyone’s life, just to fill in their shortcomings and fulfill their short-term desires as well. In the film, Shiori was furious about Kira’s heroic impact on the minds of the people. She thought it’s unjust to kill those criminals without undergoing due process in which I strongly agree since I believe these people have the right to defend themselves and are entitled for a humane and just treatment before the law. Hammurabi may not feel me when it comes to this but I guess, humanist as I am, there’s always a corresponding reason in every situation we partake, behind every actions that we do, and in every decisions that we make. Having control over life and death means having no life at all since life is all about celebrating one’s existence and not deciding the limit of it. The power of the Death Note created the monster in Light’s being. In the following sequels of the movie, Light’s aggression towards his dream of a New World Order led him to murdering anyone who tried to stop him from doing what he wants, and that includes his own father. Could you believe that? Just a reality check. We may learn things the hard way but the only teacher that would best teach us with our discretion towards the life that we have and the death that will about to come is the realization of the fact that we’re not born in this world to have our lives controlled by others but rather live our lives the way we want it to without stepping on other people’s lives. That’s what I think is right. But overall the film was great. I really had fun watching every scenes, every cat-and-mouse chase, and every tear-jerker drama. Kudos!

Weak information dissemination or lack of student participation? This has been the dilemma confronted by the SAMAHAN Central Board in an effort to address the recurring grievances of the Ateneans : tuition fee increases, internet fee charges, no permit no exam policy, and the inefficiency of the school clinic, to mention a few. Initial actions have been taken to provide temporary answers to these problems, yet it seemed like another round of a student summit is not worth anticipating in the next semesters to come. Though not as poorly attended as the previous one, the number of students present was still insufficient to formally call it a summit. Yes apparently, there were pips from the student government but where are the student representatives from every divisions and every year levels who each have different concerns to raise? Did the SAMAHAN fail to inform the entire Ateneo studentry or it’s just that Ateneans are apathetic?

A third year Nursing student captured the limelight as the open forum started. She opened up three striking concerns. First was the controversy of the  fake Sayawtenista and Cheerdance tickets that were being passed around during the Ateneo Fiesta. It turned out, the ones who got fake tickets enjoyed the show, while the ones who got the real and original ones were out there, peeping through the cyclone wires of the covered court just to see their friends cheering for their divisions. Secondly, the futility of the Ateneo website to offer up to date events and happenings in the school. Hence, the Nursing student sincerely expressed her dismay over the failure of the Ateneo website to provide information of the students’ class standings in their personal online accounts per grading period. Was the Ateneo website only made for aesthetic purposes, just to live up to its claim as being a globally competitive educational institution with state-of-the-art facilities? Last and the most striking of all, was an earnest request from the third year Nursing students to the Ateneo Administration, for a provision of carpools that will drive them safely to their places of assignment. Speaking in front on behalf of the Nursing students, she told the entire audience how the bombings in Digos gave them goosebumps and fear. If not for the event that the Ateneo having no classes during that time (since it was the teacher’s retreat), they must have gone back to Davao in ASHES.

I doubt if the Amphitheater was made free for the students with its maintenance worth a thousand per hour. And for that, I think I am entitled for a personal declaration that the Ateneo Student Summit was a huge failure. It did not really feed to what the students want to happen. There was only a presentation of concerns raised punto-por-punto and an exchange of feedbacking and voila! That’s it! There was no guarantee of a hard and fast resolution. Yes, I mean it! Hard and fast, since these issues have been coming back again and again semester per semester. The fact that there was no presence of the Ateneo Administration panel, in which must have played a critical role in the students’ discourse, made it appear that the summit was as good as settling down troubles in a coffee table. Indeed, the Ateneo Student Summit made no difference. Peace out!

I woke up with a smile on my face. Today’s gonna be the first time I will become a “ninong”. 9am, I hooked up at Christel’s (my second-degree cousin and Lizzie’s mummie) place. And everyone’s excited for the christening of Lizzie. Every person in the household worked fast and furious for the party later while my co-padrinos and madrinas were all pampered up in their best look. 10am, Lizzie gets to celebrate her first holy mass with us. All of us seemed to be so charmed by her babyishness. We kept on flashing our most foolish faces just to see her toothless smile. Lizzie was born February 13 this year, just a day before Valentine’s. She was an angel. Her eyes were like stars that whenever I look at her, I can’t stop from curling my nose and giving her a soft pinch on her rosy cheeks. Her natural scent and the plumpness of her arms makes me wanna bite and bite her all over again. She then responds with giggles and jerks. I have wittily noticed, Lizzie’s receptive with anything bright and colorful and she easily turns her head whenever she hears guitar strings being strummed. I bet Lizzzie’s gonna grow up a rockstar! Grewl!

11Am, the holy mass ended and everyone’s firing up in hunger, then a cloud popped out above every heads with an image of a juicy and crispy “lechon”. The fire was so unstoppable that I excused myself from them for awhile and bought some “kakanin” to ease the emptiness inside. I came back half-filled with a lady in her late sixties having a talk in front. She was stuff-talking and guilt-tripping on the rightful ways of becoming a godfather/godmother to their “ina-anaks” as a sort of pre-baptismal seminar for us. The sermon has ended finally by 11:30am and the priest turned over. He then started off the baptismal rite with a prayer. Everything went alright until we found ourselves scowling when the priest chimed in a piece of advice. “Non-Catholics are not allowed to be ninongs and ninangs!”, he said with firmness in his voice. Hello! I mean, he doesn’t have to remind us about that. Mummie dogs don’t even allow mummie cats to take care of their puppies. Or is it just he intends to hit someone in the crowd who doesn’t look like a Catholic just because he doesn’t do the sign of the cross. (Grins!)

Anyway, the christening of Lizzie moved on. Her little head was poured with water and oil and in turn, we professed our commitment to turn away from evil and proclaimed our responsibility to be her second parents. 12am. After all that has been said and done, everyone hurried back home and an abundance of food and warm people welcomed Lizzie with hugs and kisses. We partied till we drop and because I could not get up, 10pm, I decided to sleep over at Lizzie’s place and we bonded like she was my own child. I felt the father spirit in me slowly unleashing every time I get to play with her. It was a great day for me and for Lizze as well. Then, a spark of question dawned in my thinking, am I ready to become a father? Oh no! Peace out!

Isla Verde Boulevard, located in a corner in the city of Davao, is where our Moro brothers and sisters lived in abject poverty. Upon entering the area, voices coming from a row of “tri-sikad” drivers would call your attention. Some of them look just my age and I doubt if they’re doing these stuffs, straining their legs, just for a pastime. Along the way, me and a friend of mine who goes by the name of Mau, directly observed and evidently witnessed in the flesh how the poor have been consciously and unconsciously discriminated, oppressed, stereotyped, and marginalized. Critical to the picture are the poor Filipino children who are supposed to live in a home where their daily basic needs are well-provided and to be exposed in an environment that is beneficial for their personal growth and development. Giving me such pre-manifestations leads me to the purpose of our immersion to Isla Verde. Actually, I volunteered to be a part of the Monitoring Committee for the Fourth Year Theology students of the the Ateneo under the advisory of Mr. Nelson Manego, a soft-spoken dude yet a hardcore advocate of social injustice

With the guidance of Ate Ada, a Muslim woman of the locality, the approximately 160 Ateneans were able to visit the household who opened their doors for us (since some have refused to accept us upon knowing we’re “Ateneans”) and be able to listen to their stories in life, their opinions about anything and their grievances of sorts. Since it was a Moro community, everyone seemed to adorn halos over their heads. I don’t know. Maybe because everyone was aware of the news of a person who was shot-killed in the same place yesterday or maybe there’s an enduring stereotypical notion among Ateneans that Moros are terrorists. Absurd! A few took the immersion seriously, a lot don’t really care. “Grades lang kaya habol ko dito ok!” A few gathered the kids, a lot ditch them! “Eww! Ang babaho kaya!”

After we’ve taken our lunch, me and my co-volunteers (Mau, Sheena, Yami and Ikki) had a very serious synthesis as a wrapping-up mechanism for today’s activity. First,we talked about why there is poverty, what are its roots and how to put up a fight on it. Our discussion, which was intellectually rigid (epistaxis!), ranged from economic and political determinism to world history and to how the Marxist view on religion became a turning point to other underlying topics we later discussed. Second, we argued  about how charity would promote perpetual dependence of the people and how unsustainable it would be since it only caters for short-term satisfaction. So we came up with a detailed program for another Sunday at Isla Verde which was aimed at addressing the critical phases to face and to arouse the Ateneans and the community as well as to what is REALLY happening in our society in the light of all the political turmoils and controversies we are currently struggling in. What a fulfilling day for me. Peace out!

Cheerful applauses welcomed the opening of the Ateneo Street Parade ‘08 with the proud gay students of the Ateneo at the forefront. As always, gender was never an issue at the Ateneo. With Fr. Samson looking up to them, they waved confidently and smiled coyly to the well-entertained crowd. There were no signs of any homophobic disgust or even a single noise of cat-calls from the people watching. It only shows that Ateneans don’t really give a damn if you’re straight or gay. At the outset, as long you act like human, you’re worthy of that something most people fail to give, RESPECT.

Tailing after were excited and full-spirited Ateneans, clustering in their respective divisions. Each one has its own set of gimmicks and compositions of cheers and yells that are so unimaginable to hear in a fiesta. “Ibaba ang presyo sa pan!” Each one has its unique fashion statements and flamboyant display of props. But no one could ever beat the loudness, the imaginative creativity and the extravagance of the SBG Division cluster. Parading along the streets in long troops of yellow, propped up with their Japanese anime motif, the SBG Division has proclaimed to the world with pride that their “(My) Favorite Color is Yellow”. The yellow pack includes Super Saiyans-turned-F4, Sailor Moons with black hair, Tuxedo Masks who look like magicians, Pokemon balls with heads and legs, Pinoy version of Yamanbas (Japanese school girls), dark angels, B1 and B2 (kawaii!), Doraemon (super kawaii!), and a tri-sikad pimped with super sound-blasting amplifiers.

No it was not a death march for me since I took a ride with my friends. We watched some “paraders” parting away from the line and turned to the nearest snack bars to grab some bites and drinks. Or if not, took the jeepney, either head directly to the last stop (which was at the Ateneo Matina Campus) or just go home and rest ‘coz I swear to my great grandmother’s ghost!  The distance from Jacinto to Matina was unbelievable to travel using only a pair of legs. I would not go to the parade if not because of my friends’ ride. The seemingly endless walks will suck your breath out, tear up every veins of your body and puff your entire being with dirt and pollution. Some students don’t have any choice even when they prefer not to go. No attendance in the parade, no additional points sort of policy was imposed by most of the teachers. But of course, additional points matter to every students. “May nalang makahila sa akong grado”, said one student who was talking with her friend at my back.

                                                                                 A dance showdown at the Ateneo Matina Sports Complex, which I’m not really fond of watching, kept the spirit of every Ateneans (high school or college) alive. I wonder why there were no Filipino dances presented. I mean we’re Filipinos and we should be dancing Filipino dances not American dances. Whatever! It’s another story. As if we have what we call our own. There were also different sorts of rides in the open field until the sun came down to send me home and blog everything that had happened. Peace out!