(written while listening to Satriani track of the same title)

He sat down on the porch, that warm night, when the air was like soup and the bulb glowed overhead. Putting his beer down, he reached up and switched off the porchlight, and everything became clear. As the curtain of haze died, the sky unfolded before him and he gazed up into the pin-pricks of light flickering in the dark blanket. He took a sip from the cold bottle.
She caught him in her headlights. The pickup rolled up the driveway, crunching the gravel beneath the almost bald tires. If he hadn't been blinded, he would have recognized the tires. Didn't matter, not when he could have told that truck from anywhere.
"Watcha doing?" she said, getting out of the truck and turning off the lights to the thanks of blessed heaven. Before he could answer she added, "Didn't think you were home."
"Yeah, turned off the lights."
"Duh," she plopped down beside him. She smelled like car oil, and grass and old clothes.
"Nothing much, just..." he began, but faltered when he looked at her in the darkness.
She grabbed his beer and took a sip, looking up at the sky. The hundred little glimmers looked back.
They sat in silence. No more words were needed.

I don't usually like posting lyrics, mainly because I think its cheesy. However, this time is an exception. I must share the beauty of this song, how it captures so much that's been on my mind lately. Last time I felt this way, I was watching "Rent" for the first time. This time, it's "Wicked".

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes: and leap!

It's time to try
Defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
And you can't pull me down!

I'm through accepting limits
'Cuz someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I'll never know!
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love I guess I've lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost!
I'd sooner buy
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I'm defying gravity
And you can't pull me down

So if you care to find me
Look to the western sky!
As someone told me lately:
"Ev'ryone deserves the chance to fly!"
And if I'm flying solo
At least I'm flying free
To those who'd ground me
Take a message back from me
Tell them how I am
Defying gravity
I'm flying high
Defying gravity

On some nights, when the homework is done, and the text messages have ceased, and the world settles for sleep to the rhythm of dripping rain and lazy electric fans, I find myself flipping rapidly through the web, looking into people's blogs and personal pages. Some are friends, others complete strangers. Here, a face smiles out from the computer screen. Anime characters adorn the background. YouTube posts load. Everyone tries to say something original, something new, something cool. Everyone tries to be their own person. Everyone tries to be profound. All this effort, with mixed results.

I won't say that I'm apart from this mixing bowl of humanity; rather i'm very much guilty of all my allegations above (except the anime characters thing). But looking through it all, it makes me wonder. How different are we really from one another? Who's one to say they've got a better idea then the next?

We have these ideas about a hundred ideas that take up the space of our minds. We think about justice and beliefs, pornography, cheeseburgers, Victorian literature, media convergence and My Chemical Romance. A thousand philosophies couldn't begin to describe a human being. I have only to look so far as every person's personal page to realize this.

I don't know about others, but I like to move through a circle of friends who are, for the most part, mainly concerned with the development of their minds. It makes me think about a quote from Richard Dawkins:

"We all think science is interesting; If you don't, fuck off."

Sure, this is me. I am this web-page. I am projected in my blog. I experience, I construct, I express. It is the continued pursuit of identity, shared by everyone else. We're all different, all the same. Cirque de Soleil had a show called Quidam. The word means "stranger" or more accurately, "a man who sits on the corner of the street". This is the person who is everyone to everyone else. We are all strangers, meaning nothing to each other, yet we all have our own stories to tell. To us, the pretty girl riding the escalator is just that. To us, the man selling cigaretes is just that. To us, the student with his backpack, waiting for a ride on a rainy day, is just that. And yet, they have lived lives full, as rich and as meaningful as our own. They've seen days come and go, they wake up in the morning, they eat dreary breakfasts, they've lost loved ones in antiseptic hospital rooms, they have dreams and aspirations, and bad memories that haunt them on cold nights. And yet, these wonderful things called human beings are mere shadows in our minds, as we glance at them through the window of a car, or look up from the book we're reading. They enter like brief flashes, and leave just as quickly, and we don't even allow the decency of an after-image.

You know, it's wierd. The human race, that is.

"Bring me that horizon."- Captain Jack Sparrow

When charting the course of life, one of the most important rules in my book is that no one else can decide for me what my heading should be. I decide where to go, and I am anchored by no one. Recently, i suffered a loss, a setback. But why should that turn me from my heading? Why should I let the weight of a woman strapped to a cannon pull the rest of my ship down as she goes to the depths? That's only too bad for her, she didn't want to stay aboard. Well, she couldn't really, but that isn't my problem anymore.

Wish her luck, and I'm off, just like i done with other people who have threatened to tie me down. I want to go places and do things, and they can't come along. Too bad.

I have set my course for further shores. Some people say settle down, find a steady job, find a steady partner, stabilize yourself... "if your truly brave." Bollocks, that's what it is. Why do that when there is so much in life, so much in this world to find? Can you imagine anything more boring then steady-stable?

There's a world of adventure out there, places, things and people. But if anything, moments like this recent one remind me of the need to not get attached. Ha, it was a hell of a lot of fun while it lasted. I don't dip; I plunge. But I won't stay in too long, because there are other adventures out there waiting.

Sure, it hurts to say goodbye to something so good. That's part of the game we play. Life wouldn't be so damned interesting if we couldn't savour every moment, every flavor, every emotion. Plunge into love, but when its time to move on, feel that heartache, that pain. Roll in it for awhile, then leap to action and set sail for the next chapter in the story.

The author of the book "The God Delusion", Richard Dawkins, makes an articulate and sharp-toothed case against the claims of religion, both as a basis of moral behaviour and the existence of God. Faith(belief in something contrary to evidence), argues Dawkins, provides the slippery slope into divisiveness, prejudice, and violence. Even though I am a Christian, I cannot deny this observation. History is littered with the evidence of how religion has worked against peace, tolerance and progress. Even today, the great "War on Terror" is at its heart, a religiously motivated conflict, a consequence of the battlelines drawn in the sand of Jerusalem between the Muslims and the Jews. In the heart of America, religious fundamentalism is also giving fuel to the actions of the right-wing politicians. On the documentary "The Root of All Evil?", Richard Dawkins confronted Ted Haggard, then pastor of the New Life Church. Haggard explained that the greatest issue facing the next generation will be the Islamification of Europe. *note: Haggard recently resigned as pastor of New Life because of allegations of sexual abuse and drug abuse.

Haggard doesn't think AIDS is a problem; he doesn't think climate change is an issue; Education in Third World countries doesn't get much merit either. The biggest problem is Islamification. From the point of view of an atheist, the whole religious conflict is really about two deluded parties arguing about who's delusion is better. And unfortunately, millions of people around the world buy into this pointless debate.

Furthermore, religous groups around the world are systematically engaged in, according to Dawkins' view, amounts to a Hitler Youth Camp-type indoctrination of children. In his essay, "Viruses of the Mind" he premises on the idea that children are programmed, by evolution, to be impressionable, and that religion takes advantage of this by setting up their false world view and teaching it as truth to the next generation of faithful, perpetuating the myths upon minds that havn't yet developed the capacity to think critically and weigh evidences.

Dawkins has a point about the consequences of religion. As the "faithful" categorically deny other perspectives as truth, assert their own beliefs as true, and perpetuate this absolutism, our society becomes polarized between religions. This has done the world no end of serious, bloody, and horrible conflict.

But what about Dawkins' arguments on the existence of God? His arguments are a highly articulate packaging of the same arguments atheists have used the world over: science, evolution, quantum theory, the lack of empirical evidence, cultural epidemiology. The case made with reason is overwhelmingly convincing.

But I believe, despite all the evidence and cuss me if you want, that God is out there and here. I don't have any reasons for why I believe that, but I do. And that's about as much as I have. It's enough for me. So what if its not enough for others?

I am not in the business of asserting my faith over others. That perspective is the slippery slope towards bombs on the tube, suicide bombers and restricting condom use in Africa. Trying to argue that my belief should be true for everyone else is the debate that leads to hatred and violence.

Faith is, on its own, nothing bad. For some, it's a delusion, for others, it's truth. However, what happens when a society begins to choose one truth over the other, and assert it without reason, without consideration, without acceptance, without critical thinking? That is where the danger lies. No one should dispute what you believe, but they can dispute how that belief is articulated and whether or not that belief should be the basis of how society will decide to act or how society should percieve one thing over the other.

He didn’t think it was a lonely spot in the park,
no matter what he actually felt inside.
A bench,
a row of trees,
the constant footsteps,
the muted sounds of traffic somewhere beyond the green.
The cigarette tasted like nothing,
and the newspaper in his pocket said nothing.
“Give a girl a light?”
A pair of eyes, faded, like his.
“Sure.”

She took the lighter, and touched the flame to her cigarette.
A slight breath,
and a cloud became a halo around her head.
All she needed now were the wings.

A couple walked by,
smiling
as if there was no such thing as
tomorrow.

She looked. He looked.
Quietly, on that summer day,
they shared a mutual winter.

Damn you. You think you can just brush this aside? You think you can go on, leaving me to sit here like a fool, standing me up and spinning me around? It's really simple, isn't it? At the flick of a switch, you make me disappear. You hide behind a wall of contrived words and pseudo-explanations, signifying nothing with a stream of silence. It's not supposed to be a cold december. It didn't have to be a cold december. But you quit on me. You threw reason out the window, you don't have the guts to answer the questions. You're a coward. Damn you.

It's waking up on a gray morning beneath the shadow of blue-windowed skyscrapers. It's asphalt, concrete, a million pairs of shoes and trees snuggled together on paved walkways. It's a line of buses screaming and screeching in mechanized chorus to harassed commuters. It's a boy selling cigarettes to a jeepney driver.

It's just another day of existence in the life of a city.

In some ways, the rally last friday held by the Silliman community was successful. We saw the students holding up their banners and loudly protesting the rise in crime in Dumaguete City. We saw the representatives of different sectors state their support for these voices, and we saw a catharsis of the pain and fear that has gripped the students that call Dumaguete their home away from home. When we watched the faces of those who have fallen victim to the crimes in Dumaguete—the young men and women whose lives were destroyed in acts of brutality and inhumanity at the hands of other human beings—we somehow felt that there was meaning in their deaths; that at last, the community was rallying around those who had suffered so much. The rally was a success-- in some ways.

But we have to understand that crime is a double-ended problem. It has both effects that follow from it, and causes that lead towards it. During the rally, several people mentioned the need to "crack down on crime" and call in the best the PNP has to offer. These statements were met with approval by the crowd gathered in the rainy darkness. But I couldn't clap, and I couldn't agree. Because in my mind, these statements missed a vital point: that crime is merely a symptom of a much deeper social disease. In my mind, the statements made by the officials was only half of the solution.

Let's look beyond the the individual tragedies. Let's be a little bit more scientific in our analysis of the problem. Let's examine and ask the fundamental questions.
Why is crime occuring in Dumaguete City?

In our effort to find a solution to the problem of crime, we must first understand why crime occurs. When we know why crime occurs, we can then neutralize its cause. If this action is combined with the better enforcement of law, then I am sure that we could very well see a dramatic drop in the incidence of crime in Dumaguete.
Crime is not normal human behaviour. Our cultural norm is not one of thievery and murder. All across the city of Dumaguete we have churches and cathedrals, all preaching and teaching moral behaviour. A Filipino is brought up to believe in family, friends and God. What would cause a deviation from the norm? Most of the crimes committed in Dumaguete are premeditated, falling along the lines of robbery and theft. Criminals often start with these small crimes, such as pick-pocketing and snatching, later on progressing to break-ins, rape and murder. But it all starts with acts of theft, the most common premeditated crime in Dumaguete.
Theft is the taking of something that isn't yours. It is the act of gaining material assets through illegal means: a purse, a wallet, a laptop, a cellular phone. Why would someone do this? Because they want something they can't have. The pattern is clear when we see that the crimes were being committed by people caught in the lower end of our economic scale. In other words, poor people are the people who are most likely to steal things—people whose economic circumstances kept them from access to things that they see other people have. This problem is only heightened in a setting like Dumaguete City, were a student with a laptop, walking around with her cellphone, her education being paid for by parents, driving a shiny new motorcycle-- has to share the same street as children who have to work at night to augment the family income, barely even able to sell the bags of peanuts they carry. The economic gap between people in Dumguete has grown increasingly wide, and it is creating an environment where marginalized individuals would consider taking desperate measures in order to close the gap; measures like theft.

The economic root of crime also has another fundamental psychological effect: it robs people of dignity. A man who no one sees, a woman who no one hears, is dehumanized by society. We see them for a brief moment, and our eyes pass by to look at prettier and shinier things then the pile of rags at our feet. We see the children begging, feel a pang of regret, and then a few blocks down, our minds are already thinking about what to cook for supper. People who are treated this way have no dignity. People treated this way are no longer human. In the mind of the people passing by, they are ghosts, existing only on the edge of the consciousness. What effect does this have? A person who is not given any respect as a human being becomes calloused and does not see other people as human beings either. In the same way that we consider them less then human, they would see us as less then human as well. We are only a collective of well-dressed, better monied objects. Why are we so surprised when the people we never treated as people, all of a sudden act more like animals then human beings? Is it truly so surprising that a brutal act of violence can be committed so callously and in cold blood?

The solution to crime that deals with the causes must then provide two things: it must help people improve their economic status, and it must give these people dignity. They have to be given employment, so they can makes something of themselves. They must be educated and made aware of their of their self-worth and role in our society. They must be empowered to achieve their own aspirations and dreams. They must be treated with dignity and respect, no matter what kind of clothes they wear, what barangay their from, or what they look like. They should be treated like any other person.

Before you start to think I'm a bleeding heart for criminals, I want to let you know that I'm not; anyone who commits a crime is accountable to the law, and must be dealt with swiftly and severely: too bad there isn't any death penalty. However, the point I’m trying to make is this: to deal with crime itself, we must not only deal with the criminals, but we must deal with the reasons for why there are criminals among us in the first place. Effective crime fighting deals not only with the criminal, but also with making sure that new criminals are not created by our society.

Let's make sure that the vicitims of crime in Dumaguete are given the justice they deserve: a justice that addresses not only the effects of crime, but its causes as well. Let's make sure that the brand of justice we speak of is justice for everyone: a justice of compassion, understanding and tolerance, and not a justice of hate and retribution.

Welcome to Dumaguete City, City of Gentle People. Don't mind the ice-picks, the high schoolers getting raped, the nursing student who was stabbed in the face, the shootings in the market area, the dozens of unemployed able-bodied men, the break-ins and robberies, the vibrant shabu business, the graffiti and gang wars between the "Bloods" and the "Crips", and constant petty law-breaking that every citizen engages in whenver they cut corners or ride a motorcycle without a helmet. This is a wonderful little town.

I've had the opportunity to live in different places, both around the Philippines and in America. It may not be as much as some people, but its enough for me to compare how life differs from one locale to another. I've lived in Manila, which was as much of a hive city as any other. I've lived in Stafford, an American suburbian niche filled with manicured lawns and cookie-cutter houses. I've lived in Los Baños, a university town caught between a mountain and a big lake.

Before I came to Dumaguete, I'd never experienced a break-in. I'd never seen a fatal motorcycle accident. I've never heard of someone being stabbed in the face with an icepick.

Why is it that in such a small place, that claims to be a "City of Gentle People" and a "University Town", i've been faced with violence and brutality that rivals the tabloid news of the streets of Metro Manila?

I'm not saying that the other places I've stayed in were devoid of crime; far from it. Everywhere I've been, I've heard of things happening around me. But it was always beyond the border, somewhere beyond the neighborhood. What makes Dumaguete stand out? The answer is this: in Dumaguete, the frequency and brutality of the crimes are disproportionate with the demographics and population. Now, i'll admit in my blog that this proposition has yet to be proven with hard statistics, but after having read the newspapers over the past years, and having lived here and heard and seen these things happening, i believe that this thesis may be correct. As a volunteer for the Dr. Jovito Salonga Center for Law and Development, I intend to use the Center's resources to find out.

If I'm right, and there has been a rise in violent crimes committed within the city and neighboring areas (including Bacong, Dauin, Sibulan, Tanjay, Talay and Valencia), then I'm spotting something very wrong with our local government.

What have they done? How visible is the anti-crime campaign? One rape, one murder, one forced break-in should be enough to spur our city officials to action. It should be enough to start an organized and systematic approach to eradicating criminal elements. One dead student should have been enough. But apparently, it wasn't. More people have to die. More people have to have their lives violated. More tragedies have to strike before the local government decides its time to take some action. It almost borders on negligence.

I'm not going to condmemn the men in uniform who patrol our streets and come to our houses at three in the morning when we make our 117 calls. What I will say is that they're not getting enough support. There aren't enough of them. They aren't being trained sufficiently. They don't have access to good equipment. They have to beg Cebu for the fingerprinting files. They don't have a criminal database.

This problem is also not just on the law-enforcement end, because crime is also a symptom for two deeper social diseases: poverty and lacking education. What has the city been pouring money into? Tourism? Business investment? Infrastructural development? All the while, people are still hungry on the streets, begging. Shame on the city council, and shame on the office of the mayor, because everytime a Dumagueteño goes for a walk downtown, they have to put up with people begging for money. Shame because there are so many young men just "standing by" waiting for one odd job or the other. Shame because kids have to work in the evening just to support themselves for school. Shame because our educational system doesn't provide affordable vocational training for those without livelihoods. Shame because when it comes to providing for the people who need help the most, the city has no visibility.

This is our wonderful little town.

**I must pick up at our last session, with a brief synopsis**

Our tale began with a murder. An embassy from an eastern land, known only as Lord Kyosti Namaka of the Crane Clan, had been killed in his quarters in the seaside town of High Hill. Our adventurers took it upon themselves to investigate the murder, at the request of thier companion, Master Buntaro, samurai-dwarf of the same clan as Namaka. They tracked the assassin to a nearby cave, and were confronted by a terrifying monster, the black dragon Khrylis. After a long battle, and the near death of several of the companions, they slew the fiend and discovered a single clue, a map pointing to a mountain pass near the city of Istivin, a week's travel south from the town of High Hill. After recuperating from the fight, the travelers set out upon the southern road.

After a weeks journey, they arrived tired and spent from the long road. Much to their surprise, they discovered a refugee camp, built within the hastily constructed walls of a wooden palisade. Again, the aid of the adventurers was sought out, this time by the refugees and their masters, the Lords of Istivin. Apparently, the city of Istivin had been attacked by an army of giants, ranging north from the Crystalmist Mountains. They had ravaged the city, and forced the remaining populace to flee. Lady Sharwynn, Speaker of the Council, urged the adventurers to find the Seer, Algorthas, who was last seen in the city, to help them determine the location of the frost giant general. Once they had found the evil behind the army, only then could they slay him and bring an end to the suffering of the people of Istivin. In exchange, they would find the way through the southern pass to follow the assassin of Kyosti Namaka. The adventurers agreed.

After a brief foray into the city, they were forced to return to the palisade, carrying with them a child they had found in the ruins of what had once been Istivin Crossing. Upon their return...

Introduction: The Characters

Brai Silverleaf- Played by Irene. An elven druid, keeper of the mysteries of the forest. She recently lost her companion, a great bear named Hah, to the sword of a frost giant.

Master Buntaro- Played by Michael. A dwarven samurai, slayer of many things, and confident in his battle-prowess.

The Halfling Warlock- Played by Miggy. A magic-user of unbound power, capable of blasting opponents with raw energy, sending them into a panicked flight.

Adun- Played by Jian. A new member of the party, replacing the paladin Greyfoll (formerly played by Jian). Adun arrives with a message for the knight, sending Greyfoll to return to the monastary in Tao-Shin Lei. Adun takes his place, using his psychic powers to aid the band of adventurers.

Iceman- Played by Noel. A wandering wizard, who came upon the refugee camp, and decided to stop and investigate.

Breccia- Played by Primy. A sorceress with a pet hellhound named Fluzzy.

Dragonhelm- Played by Ray Donn. A warrior with a penchant for searching for treasure.

The Mercenary- Played by Julian. An unnamed character who gets knocked unconsciouss in a fight with dark elves.

The Croc Hunter died today, killed by a stingray's barb off the coast of northern Australia, while making an underwater documentary. This is the first time I feel the death of a celebrity as a personal tragedy. Steve Irwin was 44 and in his life, he had accomplished so much for the campaign for wildlife conservation. I consider him to be one of the heroes of our generation, like Bono, Steve Jobs, or Koffi Annan. I remember watching Irwin clamber over crocodiles and jump on top of snapping turtles and think "This guy is nuts! He's gonna get hurt, he's just asking for it!" But the truth was, he didn't get hurt, and even if he did, he loved the animals around him.

In a way, it seems a fitting end, a death worthy of the man who risked it all to bring the animals to our televisions and into our hearts and consciousness. I haven't heard of too many people killed by a stingray barb through the chest. I believe that for us, the Croc Hunter-philes, its necessary to continue what Steve Irwin started, to fight for the conservation of our wildlife, to preserve our planet for our children. We need to appreciate and love what God's given to us, and live with as much enthusiasm and gusto as Steve Irwin did.

Crikey!

I've been reading a book called Einstein's Dreams. My mum let me borrow it when i got "indisposed" last friday, thanks to my weak constitution. It is a fictional work, with each chapter describing a different dream Albert Einstein had while working on his paper that introduced the special theory of relativity. His dreams take up one chapter each, describing different worlds with different times.
In one world, time flows backwards. A woman sits, wizened and weary of a life utterly spent. Then her husband is carried back into her home, and she watches as he coughs and wheezes. They discover he has cancer. He comes home after a day at the pharmacy. Her hair returns, and she teaches history at the school. Her daughter comes back, and comes to live in thier home. The woman watches her daughter grow younger. She gives birth. She and her husband have their honeymoon in the Alps. They get married. She meets her husband for the first time, on the steps of their college.

In another world, there is a place where time slows to a standstill. Here, at the center of time, parents embrace their children, lovers kiss, and tears of parting hang motionless. Here, at the center, every moment is captured for a hundred years. The child will never grow up and leave, the lovers will never part and break their hearts, and the tears will never strike the ground.

In another world, time is a sense; some people are better at sensing it then others. For some, events are rapidly occuring around them. Cars flash by, and steps clatter, balls whisk through the air, and days and nights flicker with every percieved minute. Other people sense time more slowly, a conversation taking hours to end, the fire burning ever steadily, a single leaf taking an hour to fall. In this world, there are those who are time-deaf, who cannot percieve time. They live in a world of motionlessness, where nothing happens, where events simply occur, without sequence or coherency.

While reading this book, i found a world that I felt I could actually live in, a sense of time that even now, i lapse into. In this world, time is a quality, not a quantity. Events occur, not when it is time for them to occur, but when they are preceded by another event. A young woman waits by the fountain, because she had met a young man who had promised to meet her there the next day. He arrives shortly before midnight, and the two of them walk away hand-in-hand, beneath the streetlamps. A train does not leave until it is full of passengers. An appointment does not happen until the client arrives. Time, as a quantity, does not exist.

And last, another favorite: a world of infinite time. Everything exists forever, and the people who live in this world can be classified into the Now's and the Later's. The Now's believe that with infinite time, they must do everything they can to make the most out of it. They become doctors, engineers, politicians, business-owners. They do everything they want to do and more. The Later's have all the time in the world. They sit in the coffee shops, wearing flowing robes and reading poetry. They spend entire days sitting by the lake, waiting for the sun to set. They move through lif with an easy grace and a sincere smile, taking their time and being distracted by everything.

I believe that time is what we make of it. Some people live in the past, dwelling on the medals and plaques of days long gone. Others live in the future, working and struggling to make the next day a better day. For me, I choose to live in the present, without regret for yesterday, without anxiety for tomorrow.

I can't really call it dedication; no, that would be a misnomer of this strange ritual we engage in. Dedication indicates something of sacrifice, of discipline-- that even when the winds blow across the sails in an unfavorable manner, the captain pounds on. Even when the feet are heavy and the soul is tired, what must be done must be done. That would be dedication. What we do is not that.

Call it "collective imagination". Because somewhere outside of reality, there is a locale that exists only in the shared minds of a group of friends, huddled and snickering over a their latest imagined adventure. Escapist? A valid view of the opposed observer. For us, the merry band of adventurers, it's simply a way to pass time... a game of infinite possibility, like Calvin Ball.

Our band of friends comes from a range of human existence: a teenage father and skimboarder who dreams of being a surgeon; a college council vice-president who grew up in Saudi Arabia and looks to his heros and dreams of an ideal world; a half-german, half-filipino WWII buff who lifts weights and regularly joins mountainbiking competitions; his girlfriend, an Aikido blackbelt and graduate student who grew up in Alaska; a Catholic school boy, spoiled and bratty, who claims his Cebu descent with uninhibited pride; and a 21-year old who writes shit and has weak lungs.

Now would be the perfect paragraph for me to enumerate and describe the characters who we play in our game of chance, imagination and mathematics. But that would be pulling the blinds on so many people who don't share our game (and we are so vastly outnumbered by them). If i started ranting on about F/R/W and AC 21, HP 63 and 4d6's, then we'd have a problem on our hands instead of an illuminating discussion. Instead, I must dispense the story as anyone can understand it...as, well, a story:

The rain fell incessantly upon the wooden wall of the palisade-fort. For several weeks, the displaced city-folk had been forced to call this refuge their home, this hovel of mud, fleas, blood and splinters. They had no choice. Such is the fortune of war.
In the smoky halls within the wooden bailey, the nobles of the city of Istivin argued back and forth, just as they had before their city had been taken by the enemy armies and they, the elite of society, had been forced to the foothills, into this existence as rats and beggars.
Amidst these days of shadow, a group of strangers arrived, weary and worn, traveling along the eastern road. The nobles would not spare them much heed, having troubles of their own. But the travelers asked of the road south, and the nobles knew, as everyone in the palisade knew, that the road south would lead only to death, destruction and ruin.
The travelers agreed to aid the city-folk, in exchange for gold, food, and magic. But what could so few do against so great an enemy? Giants, the nobles claimed, wizards and dragons. No one could stand against the forces that had taken the city. But the travelers cocked their eyebrows, readied their swords, winked at the ladies, and pressed forward.

And such is how time is passed on a weekend after midterms.

He still bears the scars of the grenades at Plaza Miranda. His voice is paced and steady, yet beneath the quavering words of an old man, there is still a ring of fire and passion when he speaks of the country that he so obviously loves. "There is a Spanish saying," he explains, "'La mala hierba es dura de matar', it means 'Bad grass is hard to kill." He smiles at his own joke. "Maybe, I'm like the bad grass." Dr. Jovito R. Salonga, at age 84, is still as outspoken, humored, and sharp as he ever was.

"I've given my life twice for this country. The first time was during the war, when I went underground to fight the Japanese for the atrocities they committed against the children and women in my town," Salonga says, recalling his days as a guerilla in Pasig. In 1942, the young Salonga, at the age of 22, was captured by the Japanese forces and tortured. In 1943, he was released by virtue of the Kigen Setsu, the Japanese Founders Day. "The second time was during Martial Law." In 1971, Senator Salonga was running for re-election as a member of the Liberal Party of the Philippines, or LPP. On August 21, the LPP held a rally in Plaza Miranda, in Quiapo, Manila, both as part of their political campaign and as a move against the abuses and electoral cheating being committed by the Nacionalista Party, under the leadership of the soon-to-be president Ferdinand Marcos. Two grenades exploded on the stage, killing 8 people and wounding a hundred civilians as the blasts and shrapnel rippled through the crowd. Senator Salonga was critically injured, with concussions to the head and traumatic injuries to his right arm and leg. Today, he displays the scars proudly. "The doctor's said I was going to die. But here I am," Dr. Salonga says with a smile. He explains that most of the surgical team who operated on him that night are now long gone, the head surgeon having passed away several months ago. "I've outlived my doctors," the old man explains, his eyes twinkling.

As ever before, Dr. Jovito R. Salonga takes an active role as a private citizen of the Philippines. Salonga's opinions today ring with clarity and edge, as he writes for Kilosbayan and provides advice for Bantay-Katarungan. "Most of the media today-- print as well as broadcast-- are simply telling the stories given to them from people of the likes of (Ignacio) Bunye and (Mike) Defensor." Dr. Salonga, an outspoken commentator on the affairs of the adminstration, speaks with easy candor about the problems of the Philippines. When asked about the idea that Filipino students today are characterised as "apathetic and uninterested with the society and government", his reaction was swift and biting: "No, I don't agree with that. The students today are not apathetic; they just have to be challenged." Dr. Salonga explains that a recent survey conducted by the Bantay-Katarungan organization among young people in the city of Antipolo reveals much about the state of mind among the youth of today. "An overwhelming majority, around ninety to nintey-five percent, were in favor of proceeding with an impeachment trial for President Arroyo. I believe," he continues "if an independant survey from SWS (Social Weather Station) were conducted, it would find close to the same results."

Dr. Salonga knows of the troubles of our country. He has been at the forefront of two EDSA's, and is now an outspoken critic of the moves of the administration to kill the impeachment petition. "The impeachment is the only legal method to hold the president accountable to the people. It is an opportunity for the president to confront and clarify the issues against her." Dr. Salonga breathes a sigh that sounds like steady exasperation. With the failure of the petition to be recognized in the Congress, he explains, the only avenue left is extra-judicial action.

We talk about how the Filipino people are tired of taking to the streets, tired of hearing the same rhetoric, tired of politics and tired of changing governments. But Dr. Salonga, in all his many years of fighting for the Philippines, as a lawyer, a soldier, a congressman, a senator, and now as a private old man, is not tired. He continues to press on, driven by his love of country and led by his balanced analysis of the Filipino nation.

***For me, the opportunity to interview Dr. Jovito Salonga was perhaps the single best experience i've ever had as a student of journalism.

It's a shame, a bleeding shame. The point of the impeachment petition is to lay bare the questions that are hounding the administration. Not only was it shot down in the Congress, but it is being dismissed as the mere noise-making of leftist "troublemakers". Why is this the attitude of the government? Why is there no serious effort try and face the questions that have not been answered?

Ladies and gentlemen of the Filipino people, an impeachment trial does not automatically mean impeachment. What it does mean is that we get to take a closer look at our leaders and electoral system and work that republican system of checks and balances to be sure, once and for all, that the administration we have is legitimate. Whatever the decision is at the end of the day, must be respected as final...litigation always has a limit.

If the administration and Congress allow the impeachment trial to continue, and go through all the proper mechanisms to establish the legitimacy of the election outcome, and whatever else is hiding behind the curtains (such as human rights violations), then they should settle it once and for all in the court of law. Questions will continue to be raised until the questions have found answers.

Of course, one can argue that the activists and protestors will simply, in the face of an unfavorable ruling i.e. PGMA is NOT guilty, call the trial a farce, and take to the streets and say the judges were paid off and that Malacañang hijacked the trial, in the same way it allegedly hijacked the election. Is that proper? Is that legitimate?

In a democracy, sure it is. The administration labels this kind of behaviour as "destabilizing" and a threat to the integrity of the Filipino nation. I beg to differ from the this perspective, saying that in a democratic space, the freedom to express must ultimately be protected. I say, let the activists take to the streets, but only after both they and the adminstration have used all the mechanisms within thier means to settle the issues legally. Now, street rallies and demonstrations are extra-judicial, and are therefore not subject to the assessment of the courts of law. They are now subject to the assessment of the Filipino people. Let the people decide.

And I think that a majority of Filipinos have already decided, but of course, that's not to say that people can change their minds. If we decide that the administration is illigitimate, then we need to change it; that's how it works in a democracy. If we find it to be legitimate, then we stick to it, and respect its decisions as a manifestation of the will of the people. But the question is hanging in the air, and the issues have not been addressed.

People tend to want quiet, peaceful lives apart from all the mess in the country. They want to think of the "Filipino people" as an amorphous mass of unknown human beings. However, give that mass a face, give that mass a voice, and things get very uncomfortable. Things get "unstable". If its democracy we're talking about, instability and change is a fact of life.

What exactly is the best measure of excellence in an academic environment? Every year, recognition is awarded to individuals who have achieved top grades, ranking people according to performance in the numbers. Special attention is given to people who, together with their high marks, are able to be successfully involved with various extra-curricular activities. But, with every succeeding year, this practice is repeated until it is a completely automatic to label the active top-notchers in the class as "excellent" students. Is the definition of an "excellent" student really as good as it is supposed to be? And in the process of thrusting this measure of excellence, are students being encouraged in the right direction?

What defines a student? Formal education traces its roots to Classical Greece, when individuals who wanted to learn, they would go to public areas to listen to philosophers debate and discuss ideas and concepts. People who thought they had an idea to contribute would speak up and join in the conversation, critiquing ideas and having their own ideas critiqued. It was through this open dialogue which concepts like "democracy", "atoms", and the roots of the scientific method, were crystallized. It is interesting to note here that some of the most important ideas of European civilization were hatched through, not a process of rigorous training and curriculum, but through critical thinking and open discussion. It was a system of learning for learning's sake, as opposed to our present system od education for the attainment of set standards (i/e grades).

Principally, a student is pre-occupied with learning and acquiring knowledge. But what really becomes the dividing line, I believe, between "just students" and "true students" has something to do with the way the Greeks originally formed the learning process. Mere students are products of the status quo who continue the status quo. They become very proficient and skilled by all the measures. They engage in a linear process of education: Teacher-student-output. They perform according to what the system demands of them, no more, and no less.

However, the scholars, those famous dead guys who everyone points to as the ones who had so much to contribute-- who's ideas are now incorporated into contemporary civilization-- were individuals who refused to perpetuate the status quo. They challenged the accepted paradigms.For example, if we trace our contemporary understanding of the universe and the laws which govern it, we see that it began with myths which attempted to explain natural phenomena. Then, Aristotle challenged those myths; Copernicus and Galileo Galilei challenged Aristotle; Newton, through his sentiment of the inadequacies of Copernicus' theory, formed the basic Newtonian laws which would make Copernicus' theory of a heliocentric solar system possible. Later on, ALbert Einstein added again new ideas of relativity and the space-time continuum to Newton's laws. However, Eistein recognized that Newtonian physics didn't apply at subatomic levels, and that at such small measures, physical law had to be re-written. This was then the work of Max Planck, Heisenberg and others who contributed to the laws of Quantum physics. It is because of these ideas that we have optic communications, super-computers, and nuclear energy.

The point is this: the student is challenged, not only to be a sponge of ideas, but to produce new ideas as well. This is why a research paper is required by every discipline in order to earn a diploma. Unfortunately, the research paper is now no longer the focus of students. Students are primarily concerned with graduating and getting good grades. It is rare that students actually love the process of learning. A student will enjoy learning and is never satisfied with answers; a student is constantly engaged in asking questions and never being satisfied with status quo.

So, returning to the idea of excellence in a student: is excellence measured by grades? Is excellence measured by participation in extra-curricular activities? I think grades and participation are part of it. But the one measure which it seems schools have overlooked is the capacity of a student to contribute new ideas to the body of knowledge. This aspect of student life has been downplayed in the face of grades and activities. Perhaps it takes looking at and questioning to find the real dividing line of academic excellence.

*the other blog*

This refers to my former journal, on another website. That particular one is less fun to read, except for the travelocumentary stuff (Singapore, Hong Kong, Boracay, Richmond, New York). Its got a lot of the things I want to avoid in my present journal, all that heartbreak, melancholy and drama which is such bullshit and not worth the time and effort.

Simple Sara sang a song
about her last night's dream
Simple Sara sang a song
about why the grass is green

Simple Sara sang a song
to put her brother to sleep
Simple Sara sang a song
to make the rainclouds weep

Simple Sara sang a song
Simple Sara sang so long
Simple Sara waved goodbye
Whistled a tune,
and began to cry.

By Rj Malayang (yet another from my other blog)

Methinks a story about a Golem, and/or the Akashic records... our protagonist finds himself within the memories of a stranger...