31 January 2004
I love reading. I've read unbelievable, hilarious, stupid, and weird stuff. I've read serious, mind-boggling, disturbing kinds of written texts. I've read different articles, books (fiction and non-fiction), stories, poems, blogs, etc. My reading has brought me far and wide. It has enabled me to go around the world, and even outside the world. I love reading; it's my favorite thing to do.
But, in all my years of reading, nothing prepared me for what I have just read a while ago. It was a news item (from London). I guess nothing would prepare me for such news! I saw it in one of the forums in
I know of the Oedipus syndrome, having read and done a paper on Oedipus in college, but I never really thought that a guy would actually go as far as rape his own mother! Until this very moment, I'm still shaking inside! Maybe that boy wasn't in his right mind. God, he can't be! Maybe he was on drugs. I refuse to accept or entertain the possibility of him thinking straight when he did that.
I've often heard and read of fathers raping their own daughters, grandfathers raping their own grandchildren, and friends raping their girl-friends. I've heard and read of infants, mentally disabled, and old women sexually abused. Men who do this are animals, I always say. They don't deserve to be forgiven! They deserve to be given to the dogs or the crocodiles for that's where they truly belong. They make me want to kick the hell out of every single male human being alive at times!
But, hearing of a mother being raped by her own son?! That is just sick! And, knowing how forgiving and understanding mothers are, that poor woman would have forgiven her son before we know it. I swear, if I was in any way related to that boy, I would have taken justice into my own hands and cut his you-know-what to a million pieces or just kill him, slowly but surely! I'd be too angry to feel pity or to hear my conscience! I know it may not be as shocking to some as it is for me, but, this is a son and mother we're talking about here! And, when it comes to mothers and hurting them, I just go nuts!
Right now, I'm too shaken and angry to continue writing about this! It's just driving me nuts! Especially after I saw one RBJ member comment that something like this (mother raped by own son) actually happened in Singapore. The boy, he said, was seventeen and was forgiven by the mother! Oh, mother!!! :(
29 January 2004
The stillness of the night,
The eerie silence of dawn
Bring thoughts of all things
Past, done and left undone!
As my heart’s ears listen to
The music of silent serenity,
And my mind’s eyes see
Things invisible and unseen…
My soul longs to go-
Beyond the chilly blanket
Of the dark night and
To things past and gone by!
I am the Phoenix
From down the very stretches of mine soul,
Endless thoughts of times great and gone by
Lift themselves to where me stands dreaming.
Impatient tears escape to spring upon mine cheeks,
Cares of vengeful vanity triumph over me,
Irrepressible, I grope to go and show to all
The girl who’ll rise from memory’s bones and ashes,
Yesterday, she was down, and yes, that was yesterday!
20 January 2004
The past week, I started my new part-time job as an on-line English tutor. What we do is we teach English to Japanese (based in Japan) via the Internet. This can be quite tough since the students fall on different levels. Some can already converse in English pretty well; some could barely understand English. This means that we have a lot of adjusting to do. Having had experience in teaching English, this is not really new to me. I know how difficult it is to teach a second language, especially to reluctant learners. The teacher always has to be up on his/her toe trying to get everyone to participate and learn some basic things at the very least. Basically, I already expected how tough the job might be.
But, what really shocked me is the fact that in my new teaching “stint”, I would have to try to change my accent. My accent has never really been a problem, but the Japanese, it seems, want to be taught English by someone who has American accent. I find that quite weird because having a particular accent doesn’t necessarily mean that your language or your knowledge of a certain language is perfect, does it? If American accent was THE correct accent in speaking English, then what of the British? And, what American accent are we talking about anyway? Southern, Northern, Eastern, Western, Black American? Who is to say that this accent is more standard than that other one? Being an English Language major, I know how controversial “standard English” could get!
Last Friday, as I was talking to one of the executive officers of the company I work for, he mentioned that an American accent was the only thing I lacked. He said that if I had American accent, I would be the perfect English teacher. That’s, of course, according to their standards- the Japanese standards for a perfect English teacher. I was flattered yet taken aback. I was flattered because he appreciated and commended the way I did my lessons. And, I was quite taken aback by his comment about my having to learn American accent. I really don’t feel like I need to have a different accent just to be a competent teacher. I’m not saying that my English is impeccable as it is. But, having to speak in a totally different manner as I normally would? That would be a little weird for me. Besides, it’s not like I can master American accent in a few weeks time.
They say they’re going to send me to an American accent training school. That would be a great opportunity for me to learn new things, but I’m not really sure if I’m very excited about it. Until then, I’ll just wait and see.
15 January 2004
I was on my way to work (Yes, I have a new part-time job!) and while the jeepney I was riding was caught in traffic, a little beggar boy got inside and started wiping our feet/shoes with his dirty piece of rag. Afterwards, he waited for people to spare him some coins or probably some left-over food or something. This isn’t really new to me. Having been used to taking the jeepney, cheapest public transportation in the Philippines, I have also become used to seeing sights of this kind. The beggars around Metro Manila would always make me feel either disillusionment in the Philippines, remorse within myself, and/or gratitude to God for not making me a street beggar.
But, yesterday afternoon, what caught my attention was the little boy’s disposition. Only one or two of the passengers gave him some coins and another gave him some cookies. He was so happy at what he got that he couldn’t wipe this huge grin off his face. He almost looked funny. He showed his treasure of a cookie to his friends and clutched it close to his heart. Since our jeepney wasn’t about to move yet, he sat down for a while, still smiling. One of the passengers (the one seated next to him) told him to go and get off the jeepney, but the boy was too happy to listen or even hear him. As the light was about to turn green, he went off and I saw him playing tag with some of his friends in the middle of the street, amid the rushing automobiles. And, the smile stayed… and even grew wider and wider.
I couldn’t get that smile out of my head because it was the kind of smile that showed genuine happiness and contentment. The little boy in dirty, torn clothes was truly happy and contented with the cookies and the two one-peso coins he got. That kind of happiness and contentment hit something within me. Seeing the boy so happy and contented made me feel very happy for him and rather ashamed of myself.
Ashamed of myself? Yes… myself and other people like me! My parents, aunts, uncles, older brothers and sisters have always given me everything that I wanted or liked so long as they can afford to give. All my life, I have been sheltered, pampered and very well taken care of that not until I came to Manila did I realize that everything I saw on TV or in the movies about poverty was actually true. All my life, I have always thought of how people around the world suffered and how I wanted to help each and every one of them, if possible. Now, I just laugh that off. I used to cry for people who were hard up. I still do, at times, but ever since I came face to face with poverty and hopelessness, I just lost it. That probably meant I've grown up, I've matured. I couldn’t cry for other people any more than I could cry for myself. I found out that the easy life I was so used to wasn’t really that easy. I learned of the value of money and reluctantly admitted that money, in one way or another, made the world go round!
Now, I go to school as an “Iskolar ng Bayan” and I am supported by my folks. I don’t have anything to complain about. I don’t have too much money, but I never really run out of it. I have enough money to spend going out and having fun with friends every now and then. I have enough money to buy some extra things that I like, but I don't really need. And, recently (just this week), I’ve gotten a new part-time job and that would add some more pesos in my pocket. I’m waiting for a call from yet another company offering another part-time job. And, lastly, I’m planning to apply for a permanent job next semester. As they say, “strike while the iron is hot!”
Then, I saw that smile… With everything that I have, have I ever smiled that way? I have more than enough, but still I can’t stop looking for more. Have I ever really felt contented and happy with everything that I have that I can just sigh and smile the way that little boy did? Well, yes, probably… I can’t really tell.
And, I ask myself, “what do I really want from life?” It’s obvious; I want to conquer the world! I want to have everything that I ever wanted and wished for! But, then again, after I get all these, everything that I want, would I smile like that little boy did? And then, I wonder, again, is it really money that makes the world go round? Right now, I’m actually smiling at the thought…
07 January 2004
Aah, 2004!!! My first entry for the year... I sure hope to have more entries, better and more substantial ones at that, this year. I have always kept a journal, but I don't really write as much as I would want to or as often as people I know do. But, I sure do love writing. It's like an escape for me. It's the time when I could just be myself and just pour everything out. And, now that I have found this blogging thing, I really hope to write more.
Today, I'd like to write about the past year. A friend of mine told me 2003 was to be my year because I was born on the 23rd of March and 2003 was actually my 23rd year in this world. Now I'm thinking whether it truly was my year or not. Hmmm, what have I done and accomplished during the year? Was it a good year for me?
First, I'm going to go back in time... In the early part of the year, I was home. Finally, after two years of being away, I finally went home. For two great and happy months, I was with my family, old friends and some of my best friends. I taught in the pre-university program of our university. As always, the students were a handful and, at times, they gave me migraine attacks so bad I thought I had cancer of the brain! But, all in all, my stint in that program was really fun and interesting, very challenging and really fulfilling. Those were really good times.
Then, I went back here again to continue in my quest for education, knowledge and, let's face it, a better life in the future. School was pretty much the same. The courses I took were very interesting as they always are. I had two unforgettable professors. The first one is unforgettable for her being a really good and effective teacher. Young as she is, I consider her one of the best teachers I've had because she could make complex things simple and she respects her students. The other one is unforgettable because of the fact that he is absolutely the opposite of the first one! Although he was nice and all, he was not at all effective and competent as a teacher. It was his first time to handle the course, so he was also in the process of learning it. The problem was that he was too busy to be good. He could have been good because he's really intelligent and all, but he was just not into the whole thing.
Well, basically, three quarters of my 2003 were spent in school. Nothing really bad or tragic happened that concerned me or anybody I love. But, was it my year? I could say there have been better years for me, yes, but 2003 was definitely a good year. And, personally, I wouldn't want to pick a significant year as MY year because every year in my life is MY year. A lot of things happen every single year. There will always be good times and, well, some bad times, too. That's how life is. But, in the end, it all really depends on every person. I choose to live each year to the fullest.
After all these things said, I know and I feel that 2004 will be MY year in as much as 2003 was my year. Good things will continue to happen, so will some bad things... But, this year will be special because I choose to make it great and special! :)