Author's note: I was initially going to write about other topics, but I thought this was too timely to pass up. I'm back!
When I first heard Justin Bieber sing, I thought to myself, "This has got to be the most ridiculous teenybopper singer ever." The asinine, repetitive lyrics, the lisping tunes, the Bieber hairdo, and the legions of rabid (and equally ridiculous) fangirls attested to that well enough. However much his talent may have been in question, his popularity certainly was not. Here in the Philippines, everyone knows who Justin Bieber is, and everyone has probably sung santches of his songs, myself included. The most remarkable thing about Justin Bieber is the insidious invasion of his songs into the collective subconscious. He provokes Last Song Syndrome much better than Willie Revillame ever did in his heyday, and that is saying something ("Boom Tarat Tarat" anyone?). If ever he decides to quit his day job of teenybopper singing sensation, he should pursue the career of a mass hypnotist, in which he will most likely be a tremendous success. (A scary thought has occurred to me. Maybe he's already doing that now. Maybe Justin Bieber is smarter than any of us thought.)
Anyway, why all this preamble? Two words: Rebecca Black. If before I thought that no one could top Justin Bieber in sheer...absurdity, I now readily admit that I was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Dubbed "the new Justin Bieber", Rebecca Black has already made the following headlines:Rebecca Black must be saying right now, “Eat this!” – Friday set to make $1 Million Dollars; Rebecca Black “Friday” Worst Singer, Song and Video in the World?;Rebecca Black Will Donate to Japan Profit from her Ridiculous Song “Friday”. (Titles from the websites Chizmizan With Chuva, Pinoy Ambisyoso, and Showbiz Renegade, respectively, which are also my sources for the other information to follow.)
And no, you cannot expect castigations aimed at her from any of the "revered and reviled" of the music industry. Simon Cowell, that paragon of vitriol, found Rebecca's vocals excellent. Charmed, I'm sure. Lady Gaga, that luminary of out-and-out fabulosity and eccentricity, called her performance "genius". Rolling Stone Rob Sheffield said that she "should be proud of what she's achieved."
What exactly has she achieved? Even I cannot sufficiently express the effect her music has on the senses, not to mention the mind. Is it a matter of being so bad it's good? Judge for yourself by visiting this link:www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD2LRROpph0.
Rebecca, on her part, has the charitable spirit so crucial to lasting power in show business. In the midst of all the hullabaloo about her video, she worried that it stole the show from the recent horrid events in Japan and decided to donate her video's profits to the victims of the catastophe. She herself admits:“I think I have talent on some level,” and “I don’t think I’m the worst singer, I don’t think I’m the best singer".
So there you have it, straight from the horse's mouth. For my part, I think that she is handling herself and her career well, all things considered. Let's just not bring up the issue of talent. How will we then measure the extent of her success? By the number of times you find her song playing in your head, and the millions of hits her video receives on Youtube.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Friday, January 1, 2010
Good Intentions
One of my favorite sayings is that oft-quoted piece of advice/impertinence/genius, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."It started out as a line from Samuel Johnson, "Hell is paved with good intentions." Due to the meddling of some editor, it was changed into its present from, which is also its more popular version: "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." It has so far traversed the tides of time that it is now a lyric in a song by Justin Timberlake and Madonna, a bit of pop culture for you, dear (nonexistent) reader.
You might wonder why I so highly favor and value this axiom(which, I am certain, is the right word for it, as our friend Wikipedia says, "In traditional logic, an axiom or postulate is a proposition that is not proved or demonstrated but considered to be either self-evident, or subject to necessary decision. Therefore, its truth is taken for granted, and serves as a starting point for deducing and inferring other (theory dependent) truths"). In which case I will elaborate; suppose we start from more orthodox views and then proceed to more eclectic conjectures, that might make it more organized.
The Bible says that we are tainted with original sin courtesy of our forefathers ever since the fall of man. Because of that, we are destined for hell without divine redemption, in which case we either choose to sin or eschew it. If we decide to be virtuous all our lives, we will still be urged by our original sin to fall off the heavenward bandwagon, which will make us repent, which means, in short, that however much we intend to be righteous, a very big majority will still end up in hell.
"13 Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat:
14 Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it."
Matthew 7:13-14, KJV
(A bit of the New Testament for you;thought you might be interested.)
That is the more standard explanation of the text, but I would like to make a few additional interpretations:
First, it's a long, arduous process, paving your way into hell.
Second, despite our best intentions and preparations, we still fail to succeed, which makes it easier for us to give up and say, "F*** it."
Third, just because you mean well doesn't mean you're doing the right thing.
Fourth, a good upbringing does not guarantee that a child will turn out well.
Fifth, the four abovementioned interpretations seem to apply to me.
I could tell you of countless instances in my life (and four instances which occurred today) which just seemed to resound with the verity of the axiom. However, I will leave it to you to discover the truth of the matter for yourself; rest assured, I have proven it, and it has proven me. In the babel of New Year's Resolutions that abound, I implore you to remember that "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." Pave away, and a good year to you.
You might wonder why I so highly favor and value this axiom(which, I am certain, is the right word for it, as our friend Wikipedia says, "In traditional logic, an axiom or postulate is a proposition that is not proved or demonstrated but considered to be either self-evident, or subject to necessary decision. Therefore, its truth is taken for granted, and serves as a starting point for deducing and inferring other (theory dependent) truths"). In which case I will elaborate; suppose we start from more orthodox views and then proceed to more eclectic conjectures, that might make it more organized.
The Bible says that we are tainted with original sin courtesy of our forefathers ever since the fall of man. Because of that, we are destined for hell without divine redemption, in which case we either choose to sin or eschew it. If we decide to be virtuous all our lives, we will still be urged by our original sin to fall off the heavenward bandwagon, which will make us repent, which means, in short, that however much we intend to be righteous, a very big majority will still end up in hell.
"13 Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat:
14 Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it."
Matthew 7:13-14, KJV
(A bit of the New Testament for you;thought you might be interested.)
That is the more standard explanation of the text, but I would like to make a few additional interpretations:
First, it's a long, arduous process, paving your way into hell.
Second, despite our best intentions and preparations, we still fail to succeed, which makes it easier for us to give up and say, "F*** it."
Third, just because you mean well doesn't mean you're doing the right thing.
Fourth, a good upbringing does not guarantee that a child will turn out well.
Fifth, the four abovementioned interpretations seem to apply to me.
I could tell you of countless instances in my life (and four instances which occurred today) which just seemed to resound with the verity of the axiom. However, I will leave it to you to discover the truth of the matter for yourself; rest assured, I have proven it, and it has proven me. In the babel of New Year's Resolutions that abound, I implore you to remember that "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." Pave away, and a good year to you.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
To Kill a Frog
This piece is dedicated to all the frogs and toads I've had the pleasure of killing, Blanche in particular, the first anuran I've ever named.
You listen in apprehension and suppressed excitement as you professor tells you the particulars of pithing. Hold the head down, find the depression, pierce it with the needle at a right angle, destroy the brain, destroy the spinal cord. Sounds easy enough. In a corner of the malodorous sink you hear the shuffling of frogs and toads inside a sack. Your gloved hands, itching with impatience and smelling of acrid latex, lay out your tools for the gory task ahead.
As you retrieve your toad from the depths of the sack, it begins flailing its limbs like a newborn baby. As you cup the toad's side in your palm along with a pair of its limbs, it struggles to escape, twitching its free leg, gulping nervously for breath, its throat bulging under your thumb.
The anxious toad blinks up at you, well aware of its fate. All of a sudden it spatters urine all over the dissecting table, which seeps into the grimy grout and floods the dissecting pan. You are grateful that you are wearing a lab gown, or else you would be wearing eau de crapaud for the rest of the day.
At long last, your professor begins to demonstrate the pithing process with her tiny toad. Your toad frantically tries to avoid the probe and flinches as you hold down its warty head; as the needle enters the skull through the spine, it writhes in agony, contracting inward, and releases frothy white poison from glands in its head. Blood, thick, dark, viscous, drips out of the cavity in the head. When the brain and spinal cord are destroyed,the toad's legs go limp, but its eyes remain open, watchful in the toad's uneasy coma. The toad, vulnerable and defenseless, lies prone on the dissecting pan, yielding to your scalpel and ready for sacrifice.
You begin skinning the toad by slitting the skin on its belly, which hangs open in two flaps, the insides of which are expanses of ghostly white membrane interspersed with branching capillaries. The pale skin of the belly is vastly different from the rest of the skin on the toad's body: it hangs loosely from the body, hatched all over with fine creases and lightly striped with green, unlike the warty skin on the head, back, and limbs reminiscent of murky marshes. Next, you cut around the legs and arms and pull the raw limbs out of their "gloves" and "stockings", an oddly satisfying thing to do. As you peel the toad, it exudes a slimy stench that belongs neither to fish nor fowl, imbued with the sweetish smell of blood. The more you expose the toad's body, the more you realize how much it resembles a man as you view its muscles through the iridescence of membrane, from the powerful leg muscles to the muscles of the abdomen.
There will be more occasions in which you will kill a frog. You will see its lungs balloon out of its chest, moist and pink and incredibly filmy and delicate; you will cut off its head above the eyes while it is still alive; you will sever its heart from it, still beating and suffused with blood. You will peel, preserve, and dissect more frogs until you are sick of them, the astringent vapor of formalin assailing your nose and eyes all the while. But at the moment there is something else that holds your attention, something you will always remember even in the killing of other frogs. You contemplate the toad's dead eyes, eyes that retain so much life in them. It is this you will remember as you stare into the unblinking eyes, now no longer obscured by the translucent eyelid, now rendered perfectly lucid: fathomless pools of obsidian ringed with gold, mute in life yet so eloquent in death.
You listen in apprehension and suppressed excitement as you professor tells you the particulars of pithing. Hold the head down, find the depression, pierce it with the needle at a right angle, destroy the brain, destroy the spinal cord. Sounds easy enough. In a corner of the malodorous sink you hear the shuffling of frogs and toads inside a sack. Your gloved hands, itching with impatience and smelling of acrid latex, lay out your tools for the gory task ahead.
As you retrieve your toad from the depths of the sack, it begins flailing its limbs like a newborn baby. As you cup the toad's side in your palm along with a pair of its limbs, it struggles to escape, twitching its free leg, gulping nervously for breath, its throat bulging under your thumb.
The anxious toad blinks up at you, well aware of its fate. All of a sudden it spatters urine all over the dissecting table, which seeps into the grimy grout and floods the dissecting pan. You are grateful that you are wearing a lab gown, or else you would be wearing eau de crapaud for the rest of the day.
At long last, your professor begins to demonstrate the pithing process with her tiny toad. Your toad frantically tries to avoid the probe and flinches as you hold down its warty head; as the needle enters the skull through the spine, it writhes in agony, contracting inward, and releases frothy white poison from glands in its head. Blood, thick, dark, viscous, drips out of the cavity in the head. When the brain and spinal cord are destroyed,the toad's legs go limp, but its eyes remain open, watchful in the toad's uneasy coma. The toad, vulnerable and defenseless, lies prone on the dissecting pan, yielding to your scalpel and ready for sacrifice.
You begin skinning the toad by slitting the skin on its belly, which hangs open in two flaps, the insides of which are expanses of ghostly white membrane interspersed with branching capillaries. The pale skin of the belly is vastly different from the rest of the skin on the toad's body: it hangs loosely from the body, hatched all over with fine creases and lightly striped with green, unlike the warty skin on the head, back, and limbs reminiscent of murky marshes. Next, you cut around the legs and arms and pull the raw limbs out of their "gloves" and "stockings", an oddly satisfying thing to do. As you peel the toad, it exudes a slimy stench that belongs neither to fish nor fowl, imbued with the sweetish smell of blood. The more you expose the toad's body, the more you realize how much it resembles a man as you view its muscles through the iridescence of membrane, from the powerful leg muscles to the muscles of the abdomen.
There will be more occasions in which you will kill a frog. You will see its lungs balloon out of its chest, moist and pink and incredibly filmy and delicate; you will cut off its head above the eyes while it is still alive; you will sever its heart from it, still beating and suffused with blood. You will peel, preserve, and dissect more frogs until you are sick of them, the astringent vapor of formalin assailing your nose and eyes all the while. But at the moment there is something else that holds your attention, something you will always remember even in the killing of other frogs. You contemplate the toad's dead eyes, eyes that retain so much life in them. It is this you will remember as you stare into the unblinking eyes, now no longer obscured by the translucent eyelid, now rendered perfectly lucid: fathomless pools of obsidian ringed with gold, mute in life yet so eloquent in death.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Para sa Buwan ng Wika
Noong panahon ko sa high school bilang punong patnugot sa aming school paper, hindi pinahintulot ng pamunuan ng aming paaralan ang paglathala ng aking kauna-unahang editorial. Ito'y dahil sa ipinataw na English speaking policy ng eskwelahan sa aming mga estudyante. Ayon sa tagapamahala mula sa administrasyon, labag daw ang aking editorial sa mga adhikain at patakaran ng paaralan, na siyang salungat sa tunay na pakay ng isang editorial. Ang katuwiran ko naman, hindi nakasalalay sa akin ang tungkuling iyon bilang isang malayang mamahayag, sapagkat ang aking mga pananaw ay hindi sumasalamin sa mga pananaw ng administrasyon. Ni hindi man lamang nila ako binigyan ng abiso tungkol sa editorial na nais nilang mabasa. Sa katunayan, ako mismo ay lumabag sa mga pinahahayag ng aking editorial sapagkat isinulat ko ito sa wikang Ingles, hindi sa wikang Pilipino. Ito'y dahil wikang Ingles ang opisyal na ginagamit ng paaralan, at dahil na rin kulang ang aking kakayahan sa wikang Pilipino upang maisulat ang nasasabing akda. Marami pang mga bagay kung saan maraming mga diprensya sa pagitan ko at sa mga kinauukulan, at maging sa kapwa kong mga estudyante sa staff, ngunit ang pagtutuunan ko ng pansin ngayon ay ang naumsiyaming paglathala ng kauna-unahan kong editorial. Ito'y isang pangyayari na hindi katanggap-tanggap sa akin, at sa aking palagay ang editorial na iyon ay propesiya na nagkatotoo ngunit hindi napakinabangan dahil hindi ito pinansin. (Hanggang ngayo'y isinisisi ko ang kakulangan ko ng kaalaman, katahasan, kabihasaan sa pagsusulat, pagintindi, at pagbigkas sa lengguwaheng Pilipino sa aking paaralan, dala ng pagmamaliit nila dito bilang isang lengguwahe. Tinatanaw ko na rin ang insidenteng iyon bilang napakahalaga para sa akin bilang manunulat, dahil higit sa kahit ano pa mang pagpuri, ang pagtanggi na iyon sa aking editorial ay ang nagmulat sa akin sa hindi-matatakasang katotohanan na nakapalibot sa kahit anong uri ng akda. Marami ang hindi sasangayon sa akda mo at marami ang babalewalain ito, bagamat tama at makatotohanan ang nilalaman nito, at maaring dulot iyon ng takot mawalan ng kapangyarihan, mariin na pagsunod sa dogma, o maging ang mismong kakiputan ng kanilang pag-iisip. Natuto rin akong ipaglaban ang mga akda ko, at marahil iyon na rin ay dahilan kung kaya't mas higit kong kinikilatis at pinaninindigan ang mga sinusulat ko, dahil labag sa kalooban ko na basta-bastahin na lamang ito ng ibang tao. At ngayon, mahigit-kumulang tatlong taon mula noong una ko itong sinulat, mailalathala na ngayon ang aking kauna-unahang (ipinagbawal) na editorial.
I Love My Own(?), My Native Land
English has had a large following and a lasting prevalence in the country over the past few decades. However, the recent deterioration of English proficiency raises a question as to its continuance in the Philippines. National statistics show that students who failed annual screening tests in English averaged 20 percent below the passing mark.
This is ominous news, considering the wealth of acclaimed authors in the country who write in English. The proliferation of signs written with poor grammar, alongside essays by high school students using stilted, elementary language cannot be ignored. The blame lies in different directions: the educational system, the government, and our society as a whole.
Out of 53,000 public school teachers who took the 2004 Dep-Ed English assessment exam, only 10,070 passed. The incompetence of teachers is detrimental not only to the students' understanding of English, but also to their comprehension of lessons in other subjects. This problem can only be expected to worsen in the long run. The government has not done its share either by relegating the Filipino subject to the backseat of the educational system. Whatever happened to having a national language? Without a steady foundation in the mother tongue, students will either find English difficult to learn or will altogether forsake Filipino, as they will have nothing with which to familiarize their knowledge of English. Indeed, there are but a few who can still read, write, and translate Tagalog, not to mention other dialects, with the necessary fluency and delicacy for linguistic nuances.
English has been full instituted into our way of life: we are required to speak it in school, we read it on billboards, and we hear it on the radio. English is also now widely employed by the church, and since the American occupation has been the language in which our laws are written. In the present social hierarchy, moreover, people are judged and assigned to their respective positions based on their aptitude in English. Filipino has now been cast aside as commonplace and is treated as nothing more than an accidental language. By embracing the foreign, we have failed to appreciate the good that remains in having our own language, our own identity.
Proficiency in English, along with the knowledge that it gives, is profitable and opens a wide range of opportunities for those who learn it. The real mistake lies in assuming that English, along with foreign customs and ideas, is far better than language and tradition inherently Filipino.
English cannot substitute for our national language; it is merely a tool we use in communicating with the rest of the world. It is high time we stop toadying to what is not ours; let us instead reconcile our hearts and minds to what is rightfully our own, while respecting the value of that which others have imparted to us.
Author's note: This editorial is in essence the same as the original. I took pains to edit only when necessary, and refrained from altering the tone of the original. The statistics shown are old, but I believe that they reflect the current situation.
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Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Lexical Vexations
1. To newscasters and pedagogues: Please take the time to research the pronunciation and articulation of foreign words. Say "Chang-tze-i" instead of "Zaang-zee-yee", and substitute "Wun-chia-pao" for "Wen-ja-baw"( When you say it like that, you sound as though you're about to say "jabar"). My ears are bleeding in indignation.
2. For crying out loud, say "try to" instead of "try and".
3. Repeat the phrase "at the end of the day" one more time, and I will do my damnedest to make sure your day ends badly.
4.I wonder why Canadians say "ewt", as in, "check this ewt". Really.
5. Come to think of it, the Brits, Aussies, and Kiwis are even stranger for saying "Aurstralee-yer" and "Drarwring board".
6. DJs. Don't think that you're superior to us just because you're conyitos and conyitas who can put on those phony American accents. Do not be fatuous. Your grammar is execrable.
7. Humanities classmate whose name I don't know: Stop saying "fil-lings" when you mean to say "FEElings".
8. Humanities prof whose classes I can't stand: Stop substituting "z" for "s" and punctuating your sentences with your favorite phrase, "I don't know". You sound more like a drone than ever, and in case you haven't noticed, we're quite aware that you're incompetent. And by the way, "talked about" is for children. "Discussed" would be less childish.
9. Grocery checkout signs should read, "12 items or fewer", not "12 items or less". Similarly, Starbucks napkins should read "Fewer napkins, more planet". (BUT THEN AGAIN (hahaha), Stabucks is in cahoots with the conyos. No surprises there.)
10.Inserting the word "why" after the word "reason" is superfluous. The reason is enough in itself, and saying "the reason why I" makes you sound more inane than you already are.
2. For crying out loud, say "try to" instead of "try and".
3. Repeat the phrase "at the end of the day" one more time, and I will do my damnedest to make sure your day ends badly.
4.I wonder why Canadians say "ewt", as in, "check this ewt". Really.
5. Come to think of it, the Brits, Aussies, and Kiwis are even stranger for saying "Aurstralee-yer" and "Drarwring board".
6. DJs. Don't think that you're superior to us just because you're conyitos and conyitas who can put on those phony American accents. Do not be fatuous. Your grammar is execrable.
7. Humanities classmate whose name I don't know: Stop saying "fil-lings" when you mean to say "FEElings".
8. Humanities prof whose classes I can't stand: Stop substituting "z" for "s" and punctuating your sentences with your favorite phrase, "I don't know". You sound more like a drone than ever, and in case you haven't noticed, we're quite aware that you're incompetent. And by the way, "talked about" is for children. "Discussed" would be less childish.
9. Grocery checkout signs should read, "12 items or fewer", not "12 items or less". Similarly, Starbucks napkins should read "Fewer napkins, more planet". (BUT THEN AGAIN (hahaha), Stabucks is in cahoots with the conyos. No surprises there.)
10.Inserting the word "why" after the word "reason" is superfluous. The reason is enough in itself, and saying "the reason why I" makes you sound more inane than you already are.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Why I Write
I disapproved of blogs at the time when blogs were a fad, not a norm, failing to see anything in publicly publishing your work except humiliation. I believed then, as I do now, that displaying one's dirty laundry is uncalled for in blogs, as it very often incriminates others. I also believe that writing a blog warrants a certain amount of gall. Far too many bloggers have gall in excess, I'm afraid. Just look at all those blogs whose entries defy description and can only be interpreted symbolically by a mental image of your favorite analgesic. I had no wish to embarrass myself so publicly, after wincing countless times at myriad grammatical errors and various other indiscretions.
However, I have since then appreciated the value of a blog as a medium by which to broadcast one's thoughts with virtually no expense or censorship, and also as a way of making sense of all the thoughts crammed in my head that would otherwise expire, unused and bodiless in the sphere of existence that is the abode of abandoned ideas. My blog has become a form of catharsis for my ever-moody, ever-neurotic self, and quite luckily only a few people know about it. I want to keep the thoughts in this blog hidden from the people who think they know me. I use a pseudonym because, were I to use my real name, other people's preconception of me would distort my words. I do not want to change my words to please other people, and at the same time I want to write with relative freedom. Let the random reader stumble upon this blog, but seldom will I let my classmates, friends, or relatives read this, or let them know that I have written these words. I am reticent to show them these thoughts, because I do not know what they will make of it, and I do not want to come to blows with any of them, physical or otherwise. The fact that I am a private sort of person is one of the other reasons I want my identity to remain unknown; it is also the reason I reveal so little of my personal life in this blog. I think its anonymity reflects the alienation and disillusion that compels me to write, and I want it to remain that way. To quote Joan Didion, from whom I borrowed this title, "I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want to what I fear." I write, simply, because.
However, I have since then appreciated the value of a blog as a medium by which to broadcast one's thoughts with virtually no expense or censorship, and also as a way of making sense of all the thoughts crammed in my head that would otherwise expire, unused and bodiless in the sphere of existence that is the abode of abandoned ideas. My blog has become a form of catharsis for my ever-moody, ever-neurotic self, and quite luckily only a few people know about it. I want to keep the thoughts in this blog hidden from the people who think they know me. I use a pseudonym because, were I to use my real name, other people's preconception of me would distort my words. I do not want to change my words to please other people, and at the same time I want to write with relative freedom. Let the random reader stumble upon this blog, but seldom will I let my classmates, friends, or relatives read this, or let them know that I have written these words. I am reticent to show them these thoughts, because I do not know what they will make of it, and I do not want to come to blows with any of them, physical or otherwise. The fact that I am a private sort of person is one of the other reasons I want my identity to remain unknown; it is also the reason I reveal so little of my personal life in this blog. I think its anonymity reflects the alienation and disillusion that compels me to write, and I want it to remain that way. To quote Joan Didion, from whom I borrowed this title, "I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want to what I fear." I write, simply, because.
Kontrabida
Para sa akin, mas maraming lamang sa pagiging kontrabida; ano na nga ba ang pakikipagsapalaran kung walang kontrabida? Ang mga kontrabida ay ang mga bumubuhay ng kwento--sila ay mga iconoklastikong tauhan na nagsusumikap pabagsakin ang nakagawiang pamamaraan ng pamumuhay, ang status quo. Sila ang mga taong kinalimutan at itinakwil na ng lipunan-- ang mga tinuturing kasuklam-suklam dulot ng samu't-saring dahilan. Ngunit sila ri'y kahanga-hanga dahil pinili nilang hamakin ang tadhanang kumitil ng kanilang mga pangarap, pinili nilang umahon sa pasyang pinataw sa kanila ng tadhana na siyang lulugmok sa kanila patungong kamatayan kung ito'y kanilang sinundan. Pinili nilang mabuhay sa gitna ng pagkamuhi at kalungkutan. Kung tutuusin, ang bida ay katha lamang ng mga taong tumatangkilik rito-- ang mga taong nakikinabang sa kanya. Maaaring ang isang bida ay nagbibida-bidahan lamang, at wala naman palang tunay na kakayahan. Siguro ang naghihiwalay lamang sa mga bida at kontrabida ay ang paghanga ng lipunan at ang pagkamuhi nito.
Maaring pinili ko na rin maging kontrabida dahil alam ko na noon pa na hindi rin tumatagal ang pagiging bida; at kung gayon, bakit pa ba ako magaaksaya ng panahon na magpakabida, kung pagiging kontrabida rin ang hahantungan ko? Nais nating maging mga bida, ngunit hindi natin maikakaila na likas na sa atin ang pagtitiwalag sa kabaitan. Hindi tayo mga santong kahoy na mananatiling mapayapa sa gitna ng unos ng buhay, at hindi natin maaring pangarapin na tayo'y gagawa lamang ng mabuti sa ating kapwa. Sa hindi maipaliwanag na dahilan, tayo ang nagiging kontrabida, sa ayaw o sa gusto natin.
Kanya-kanya tayo ng kontrabida sa ating mga buhay-buhay. Mayroong mga iba na nalimutan na natin, mula pa sa pagkabata; mayroong laging nakaabang, na biglang sumusulpot mula sa madidilim na sulok; mayroon na rin tayong napabagsak at nalupig. Ngunit sa buong buhay ng isang tao, mayroon isang kontrabida na hindi lulubay sa kanya, at iyon ay ang sarili niya. Hindi nga ba't isang malaking hamon ang pagsupil sa mga tukso na inaalay sa atin nga ating mga isipan? Hindi nga ba't nag-aalinlangan tayo sa araw-araw kung ano nga ba ang daan na dapat tahakin, hindi ba tayo nanganganib dahil sa pag-aalinlangan na ito? Hindi ba tayo nagiging hadlang sa ating mga mithiin? Hindi ba tayo ang mga kontrabida sa sarili nating mga buhay, na humahadlang sa pagtanghal ng mga eksena sa maikling dula? Hindi nga ba tayo ang mismong sanhi ng ating kasawian?
Maaring pinili ko na rin maging kontrabida dahil alam ko na noon pa na hindi rin tumatagal ang pagiging bida; at kung gayon, bakit pa ba ako magaaksaya ng panahon na magpakabida, kung pagiging kontrabida rin ang hahantungan ko? Nais nating maging mga bida, ngunit hindi natin maikakaila na likas na sa atin ang pagtitiwalag sa kabaitan. Hindi tayo mga santong kahoy na mananatiling mapayapa sa gitna ng unos ng buhay, at hindi natin maaring pangarapin na tayo'y gagawa lamang ng mabuti sa ating kapwa. Sa hindi maipaliwanag na dahilan, tayo ang nagiging kontrabida, sa ayaw o sa gusto natin.
Kanya-kanya tayo ng kontrabida sa ating mga buhay-buhay. Mayroong mga iba na nalimutan na natin, mula pa sa pagkabata; mayroong laging nakaabang, na biglang sumusulpot mula sa madidilim na sulok; mayroon na rin tayong napabagsak at nalupig. Ngunit sa buong buhay ng isang tao, mayroon isang kontrabida na hindi lulubay sa kanya, at iyon ay ang sarili niya. Hindi nga ba't isang malaking hamon ang pagsupil sa mga tukso na inaalay sa atin nga ating mga isipan? Hindi nga ba't nag-aalinlangan tayo sa araw-araw kung ano nga ba ang daan na dapat tahakin, hindi ba tayo nanganganib dahil sa pag-aalinlangan na ito? Hindi ba tayo nagiging hadlang sa ating mga mithiin? Hindi ba tayo ang mga kontrabida sa sarili nating mga buhay, na humahadlang sa pagtanghal ng mga eksena sa maikling dula? Hindi nga ba tayo ang mismong sanhi ng ating kasawian?
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Ang mga Dasal ng Mapagsumpaing Pabasa/ The Passion of the Damned
Dahil na nga Cuaresma at marami ang nabuburo sa kainipan at maging sa alingasaw ng mainit na panahon, naisipan kong ipamahagi sa inyo ang mga dasal na akda ni Marcelo H. Del Pilar. Babala: hindi dapat basahin ng mga taong walang kamuwang-muwang sa ibig sabihin mga salitang “satire” at “irony”. Kung kayo’y mga dugong-bughaw na kabilang sa aristokrasya ng mga makikitid ang pananaw, maaaring huwag na ninyong basahin. Sa mga deboto de sanctimonyo: ang mga ito ay hindi patungkol sa Diyos, kundi sa mga nagsusupumilit maging diyos-diyosan sa kanilang mga kapwa.
Pagsisisi
Panginoon kong Fraile, Diyos na hindi totoo at labis nang pagkatuo gumaga at sumalakay sa akin: pinagsisihan kong masakit sa tanang loobang dilang pag-asa ko sa iyo, ikaw nga ang berdugo ko. Panginoon ko at kaaway ko na inihihibik kong lalo sa lahat, nagtitika akong matibay na matibay na dina muling mabubuyo sa iyo: at lalayuan ko na at pangingilagan ang balanang makababakla ng loob ko sa pag-asa sa inyo, makalilibat ng dating sakit ng mga bulsa ko,at nagtitika akong maglalathala ng dilang pagkadaya ko umaasa akong babambuhin ka rin, alang-alang sa mahal na panyion at sa pangangalakal mo ng Cruz, sa pagulol sa akin. Siya nawa.
Ang Amain Namin
Amain namin sumasaconvento ka, sumpain ang ngalan mo, malayo sa amin ang kasakiman mo, kitlin ang leeg mo dito sa lupa para nang sa langit. Saulan mo kami ngayon ng aming kaning iyong pagungal para nang pagpapatawa mo kung kami’y nakwakwartahan; at huwag mo kaming ipahintulot sa iyong manukso at iyadya mo kami sa masama mong dila.
Ang Aba Po Santa Barya
Aba po Santa Baryang Hari, inagaw ng Fraile, ikaw ang kabuhayan at katamisan. Aba bunga ng aming pawis, ikaw ang pinagpaguran naming pinapanaw ng taong Anak ni Eva, ikaw nga ang ipinagbubuntong hininga namin sa aming pagtangis namin dito sa bayang pinakahapis-hapis. Ay aba pinakahanap-hanap namin para sa aming mga anak, ilingon mo sa amin ang cara-y-cruz mo man lamang at saka bago matapos ang pagpanaw mo sa amin iparinig mo sa amin ang iyong kalasing. Santa Barya ina ng deretsos, malakas at maalam, matunog na ginto kami ipanalangin mong huwag magpatuloy sa amin ang mga banta ng Fraile. Amen.
Ang mga Utos ng Fraile
Ang mga utos ng Fraile ay sampu: Ang nauna: Samabahin mo ang Fraile na lalo sa lahat. Ang ikalawa: Huwag kang magpapahamak manuba ng ngalang deretsos. Ang ikatlo: Mangilin sa Fraile linggo man at fiesta. Ang ikaapat: Isangla mo ang katawan mo sa pagpapalibing sa ama’t ina. Ang ikalima: Huwag kang mamamatay kung wala pang salaping panlibing. Ang ikaanim: Huwag kang makiapid sa kanyang asawa. Ang ikapito: Huwag kang makinakaw. Ang ikawalo: Huwag mo siyang pagbintangan, kahit na masinungalingan. Ang ikasiyam: Huwag mong ipagkait ang iyong asawa. Ang ikapulo: Huwag mong itanggi ang iyong ari*. Itong sampung utos ng Fraile dalawa ang kinauuwian. Ang isa: Sambahin mo ang Fraile lalo sa lahat. Ang ikalawa: Ihain mo naman sa kanya ang puri mo’t kayamanan. Siya nawa.
*Ari- ari-arian, etc.
Nakapanlulumong isipin na hanggang sa kasalukyan ay mahalaga at naaangkop ang mga katagang nakasaad sa mga dasal na ito sa ating lipunan. Kakatwa talaga ang pananaw ni Del Pilar dahil nasasakupan nito ang hinaharap ng mahigit sa isang siglo. Siguro nga totoo talaga na ang mga b__ ay hindi namamatay, sila’y nagpapalit lamang ng anyo. Nananalamin ang mga dasal na ito sa ating mga naunsiyaming pangarap, at sa kasaysayan ng bansa, at wari’y minumungkahi: Ganito kami noon, ganyan pa rin ba kayo ngayon? Sadyang kalunas-lunas ang ating kalagayan na wala na akong ibang babanggitin, ngunit kung inyong mamarapatin lamang ay punan ninyo sa inyong mga isipan ang mga maaring ipalit sa pangngalang “Fraile”. Maligayang Pagbangon ng Poong Hesukristo, at para sa mga nagsipuntahan sa lalawigan, maligayang (?) pagbabalik sa buhay metro.
Pagsisisi
Panginoon kong Fraile, Diyos na hindi totoo at labis nang pagkatuo gumaga at sumalakay sa akin: pinagsisihan kong masakit sa tanang loobang dilang pag-asa ko sa iyo, ikaw nga ang berdugo ko. Panginoon ko at kaaway ko na inihihibik kong lalo sa lahat, nagtitika akong matibay na matibay na dina muling mabubuyo sa iyo: at lalayuan ko na at pangingilagan ang balanang makababakla ng loob ko sa pag-asa sa inyo, makalilibat ng dating sakit ng mga bulsa ko,at nagtitika akong maglalathala ng dilang pagkadaya ko umaasa akong babambuhin ka rin, alang-alang sa mahal na panyion at sa pangangalakal mo ng Cruz, sa pagulol sa akin. Siya nawa.
Ang Amain Namin
Amain namin sumasaconvento ka, sumpain ang ngalan mo, malayo sa amin ang kasakiman mo, kitlin ang leeg mo dito sa lupa para nang sa langit. Saulan mo kami ngayon ng aming kaning iyong pagungal para nang pagpapatawa mo kung kami’y nakwakwartahan; at huwag mo kaming ipahintulot sa iyong manukso at iyadya mo kami sa masama mong dila.
Ang Aba Po Santa Barya
Aba po Santa Baryang Hari, inagaw ng Fraile, ikaw ang kabuhayan at katamisan. Aba bunga ng aming pawis, ikaw ang pinagpaguran naming pinapanaw ng taong Anak ni Eva, ikaw nga ang ipinagbubuntong hininga namin sa aming pagtangis namin dito sa bayang pinakahapis-hapis. Ay aba pinakahanap-hanap namin para sa aming mga anak, ilingon mo sa amin ang cara-y-cruz mo man lamang at saka bago matapos ang pagpanaw mo sa amin iparinig mo sa amin ang iyong kalasing. Santa Barya ina ng deretsos, malakas at maalam, matunog na ginto kami ipanalangin mong huwag magpatuloy sa amin ang mga banta ng Fraile. Amen.
Ang mga Utos ng Fraile
Ang mga utos ng Fraile ay sampu: Ang nauna: Samabahin mo ang Fraile na lalo sa lahat. Ang ikalawa: Huwag kang magpapahamak manuba ng ngalang deretsos. Ang ikatlo: Mangilin sa Fraile linggo man at fiesta. Ang ikaapat: Isangla mo ang katawan mo sa pagpapalibing sa ama’t ina. Ang ikalima: Huwag kang mamamatay kung wala pang salaping panlibing. Ang ikaanim: Huwag kang makiapid sa kanyang asawa. Ang ikapito: Huwag kang makinakaw. Ang ikawalo: Huwag mo siyang pagbintangan, kahit na masinungalingan. Ang ikasiyam: Huwag mong ipagkait ang iyong asawa. Ang ikapulo: Huwag mong itanggi ang iyong ari*. Itong sampung utos ng Fraile dalawa ang kinauuwian. Ang isa: Sambahin mo ang Fraile lalo sa lahat. Ang ikalawa: Ihain mo naman sa kanya ang puri mo’t kayamanan. Siya nawa.
*Ari- ari-arian, etc.
Nakapanlulumong isipin na hanggang sa kasalukyan ay mahalaga at naaangkop ang mga katagang nakasaad sa mga dasal na ito sa ating lipunan. Kakatwa talaga ang pananaw ni Del Pilar dahil nasasakupan nito ang hinaharap ng mahigit sa isang siglo. Siguro nga totoo talaga na ang mga b__ ay hindi namamatay, sila’y nagpapalit lamang ng anyo. Nananalamin ang mga dasal na ito sa ating mga naunsiyaming pangarap, at sa kasaysayan ng bansa, at wari’y minumungkahi: Ganito kami noon, ganyan pa rin ba kayo ngayon? Sadyang kalunas-lunas ang ating kalagayan na wala na akong ibang babanggitin, ngunit kung inyong mamarapatin lamang ay punan ninyo sa inyong mga isipan ang mga maaring ipalit sa pangngalang “Fraile”. Maligayang Pagbangon ng Poong Hesukristo, at para sa mga nagsipuntahan sa lalawigan, maligayang (?) pagbabalik sa buhay metro.
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