My First Rhymes

Mary had a little lamb,
little lamb, little lamb,
Mary had a little lamb,
whose fleece was white as snow.
And everywhere that Mary went,
Mary went, Mary went,
and everywhere that Mary went,
the lamb was sure to go.

***

This is one of the nursery rhymes I liked the most which I even had as my last song syndrome. It was used to be played in our old karaoke with a child’s voice echoing around the living room. Now, the cassette tape is still kept intact inside my drawer.

***

I would want to share my first ‘real’ poem I wrote in my creative writing subject. These are my first rhymes, ever.

In Her Father’s Jewel Shop

Stretched between two acacia trees
was my grandpa’s knitted duyan.

When the sun hears the cackle of the cock
he sits on it and swings,
and watches the busy wheats warming up.
And when the sun begins its siesta
the two trees nearly kiss
My grandpa’s belly reaches for them
and his spine then kisses the ground.
He was the soulmate of the sun
and this I never knew
Until his wife sat with me,

On that bench, my grandma’s old bangko.
We were wedding rings perched on the softest cushion
Her voice spoke of her life –
a diamond polished by the greatest jeweller.

Each night in her father’s jewel shop
she sits by the coffee cup whose steam
sinks before reaching her topmost book pile,
My grandpa would knock and ask for a plate.
His hand, as my grandma tells,
feels like the empty plate keeping her awake all night.

One morning in her father’s jewel shop
she sits by the coffee cup whose steam
was the only sound heard at breakfast
My grandpa knocks and returns the plate.
And in his hand is a letter
of the first voice she heard all her life.

The voice bent her father’s rigid cane.
It broke his eyeglass lens
and burned his pipe into ashes.
The sound was a spoon tapping an empty plate.
It glittered like diamonds fresh from the quarry hill.

The sun now savours its merienda
The criss-cross of the cradle
is now on my grandpa’s back.

***

The poem above is actually my first draft and I like it more than the final one. The following poem however is written as my final draft, ‘coz I felt it more than the first.

***

To Write a Poem

To write a poem
is a master’s call
that awakens the queen
from her dead blank dream.

She hears the music
of the maple leaves prickled with dew
drops between lips –
the velvet blue sky
and the dark humus soil.

Lips whispering words.

She goes by the king’s quarters
and swabs the blood
on his sword
with her bare sleek hands.

In her gown she rides on a white mare,
and brings the king to the darkest forest bed
covered in a silk satin sheet
blocking a patch of light.

Owls hoot and silent the night
blanket the canopy
to keep the crease of the bonfire flame.

Cold wind blows.

My First Paragraphs

I want a real new life!

One semester down, and a lot more to go. But at least, I was able to survive my first five months in UP Diliman as what my dietician told me. I wished to write various topics here on my site but I simply can't find a time. I would sleep late at night sometimes even reaching two in the morning because of some bogglers in my mind. I don't know what it is but I think it was me getting accustomed to sleeping that time of the night during the last weeks of the semester. I just enjoy myself in revolutionizing Facebook with a chatroom-slash-photo comment boxes-slash-conversation with my high school friends in our class shot posted by one of my classmates. If you're curious and would want to see it, I think it always appears on my wall and in your homepage as well. The comments there have reached to almost 400! All about our college life and plans for an early reunion. That's how we miss each other. College is far much different from high school.

The past semester has left me loaded with jobs that I did for the first time. Our Kas 1 (Phil. History) professor has tasked us to write a 'formal' research paper - a kind of work that I have never done before. High school academic papers are best for babies seeing its difficulty in my first year in college. I could remember our group scanning every inch of the World Wide Web to look for sources, and in one click it appears in our paper, we call it the 'copy-paste' technique. I could even think of doing that HS paper in one day but I didn't like rushes. Well of course we're gonna write down our sources but, in a classy style originally made by secondary students. On the white sheet of the MS Word, we type in "Sources" plus a colon, and paste the URL of the website. However long it is, we didn't care (that's what the URL says, with those equal signs, several slashes, numbers, and words jumbled together -- computer languages, arrgggh). We didn't because we had a secret ingredient to spice up our works, like the Maggi Magic Sarap on TV. We wrap them up with colorful designs, state-of-the-art papers printed on state-of-the-art printers, and bring out the 'wow factor' in our teachers. Mission accomplished.

Until I knew of the MLA style for academic papers as taught by our HS Filipino teacher. To people inclined to artistic papers, they call it a bore.

My first college paper was about the contributions of the Communist Party of the Philippines to the agricultural status of the Philippines. It has to be specific, my professor would say. We stayed awake during the late hours of the night for a week just to finish this paper. Copy-paste style? That's a big horrible no. We read sources from the internet from top to bottom, scanned old books from the university's main library, and conduct surveys that we needed to analyse.

We were also governed by a woman named Kate Turabian in the course of our study. Turabian is the well-known author of a guide in writing papers. In her book, a.k.a. the writing bible, contained rules that we strictly followed including margin sizes, footnote formats, spacing, indentation, sections, and many others. We even had to read to whole book added to our list of readings for us to be familiar with the style. She says NO to own graphic designs, NO to border arts, NO to the ever-famous 'Comic Sans' font style and other fancy ones, and NO to creative gimmicks to bring color to your work. Truly new to me.

Making a formal and full-fledged research paper isn't an easy as A-B-C, click-copy-click-paste. I had to stay with my laptop computer aided by the friendly Microsoft Word program for the whole day to write my 'first' paragraphs. I had to read a couple of pages and be as assertive as I can to formulate a strong stand and a good conclusion. It's more about making inferences based on your sources, and working with your mind to arrive at the best words.

As we stepped on our last task, to encode page numbers that in themselves are confusing. Page numbers on 'main section' pages of the paper must be placed below, and the rest of the paper's page numbers to be placed above. Getting boggled? We too did working on it for half an hour.

Hearing the rhythmic sounds of our printer puking out the pages of our paper, I knew I was able to write my first paragraphs, my first phrases, my first words.

Krabby Patty's Secret Formula

Just this afternoon, I was able to catch an episode of Spongebob Squarepants from TV5, well, an addition to my favourite episodes list after the one where Patrick Star mistakenly recognized his parents (this is insane) I just don't like the way the voice actor dubbed the scenes. Anyway, it was about an instructional video for trainees in the Krusty Krabb and the episode was inredibly fun. It got me stuck on the TV for about 15 minutes while I stopped working on our paper for a while.

The essence of the video was actually to reveal the much-awaited secret formula to the audiences. But before that, the episode went a long way through. It started with the history of the restaurant, the duties of the crew, hygienic procedures, comparing a a responsible staff in the image of Spongebob and a nasty and stupid one, as in Squidward. The last one minute (?) of the show were the enticing words of the narrator as prior to revealing the secret formula. There was a funny voiced music as the krabby patty went nearer and nearer the screen.

And the narrator spoke, "And the secret formula is..."

Suddenly, it was the rundown of credits. It left my mouth-opened after all of it! What a waste!

But what made me post this thing over here? Remember my previous ones were about the typhoon, personal experiences, and a lot more sensible things but why I chose this? Simple. There is something within that episode that penetrates your subconscious.

C-U-R-I-O-S-I-T-Y. The presence of the unrevealed secret formula throughout all episodes of the show just influences the mind of a child fond of watching it. Even I was astounded by the style used by the makers of the show! Young viewers are Sheldon Plankton themselves, always wanting to know the secret formula. Isn't to mysterious? Movies that leave a story, a line, or a thing hanging would make the audiences think for the reason behind it, and lead him into gasping for the goal of finding it. This is the 'secret' of filmmaking and TV production. They do more than just to give entertainment. They do more than just to give pleasure. They touch the inner mind of the viewers -- their subconsciousness.

Okay, I'll be admitting it. After watching it and of course, finishing our research paper, I did not let the day pass without searching for the secret formula over the net. And luckily I found it! Well of course, I'm gonna be sharing it here, although it's not surprising at all.

(Whew, after all those guesses of what 'explosive' material that is in there, it's just a way of making a burger patty?!)

Yes. You can even try it at home. :D

LSS

The crescent moon was misted by the dark clouds, fresh from the bad storm that has hit the country the second time around. It was a rather peaceful night, everyone was able to breath calm after being part of another plot. The government channel calling for understanding and consideration for their failures, was back to its actual job. Back to the political arena, back to the battle for power. How many months yet before another wave of elections?

I was on our car, travelling back home, and looking out of the window seeing rows of houses in our village that appeared to be empty and deserted. People have already learned. They're not gonna come out of their nests unless very necessary. The voice of the radio host echoed in our car. We were silent, as we were all sleepy in a day of shopping.

Her voice was just as high and strong as a boar being pinched by a thousand needles. And a song that caught my ears played. I thought it was just like the others, talking about nonsense things on relationships, the nasal voice of Willie Revillame, K-Pop, and love songs. It was so mellow and simple but subtle enough to be voice out a sound reaching mountains.

You Wished For It, and You Got It!

Four days after the bad storm, people start rebuilding, recovering, and remodelling their affected lives. Thanks to the bright sun who welcomed the day with a soothing smile, patting everybody on the streets, encouraging them to move on.

It was another hot and humid Tuesday once again, as if Ondoy never really appeared. Temperatures rose in different parts of the country. Yet, nobody complained on this surging heat unlike how I saw it in the past few weeks.

"Grabe ang init! Sana umulan naman!" A lady tired or lifting a heavy basket from the public market cried as she rode the jeepney. Now, not a single word of complaint came out of the people, fearful of what may the storm be once again. They just resisted what heat gave them, it was better than the downpour of the heavy unending rain.

But faces looked so long and gloomy, unmoved by the smile coming from the sun. One man whose shirt was so dusty and seemed to be his last one held the jeepney's rails staring at a distant. What could he be thinking of? His family? His job? Or savoring the sun's rays?

Langhap-sarap. This has been Jollibee's ever-enticing line to attract food-goers with the picture of a newly-cooked Chicken Barbeque, its juices sprouting from its skin. Now, Jollibee's langhap-sarap's face is now simply a langhap. Stocks are down when some of their meals such as the Burger Steak, the Chickenjoy, the legendary Crispy Fries, and Shanghai Rolls went down to the last drop. "Not Available", it says. Customers who might want to try their new products just had a cup of vanilla ice cream, a softdrink I never knew if still fresh from the bottle, and a piece of pie.

Jollibee still has to find another sack of honey.

The Answer To All Questions

As I post this blog, Kris Aquino's shrieky voice echoes within our living from, now speaking of gratitudes and pleading for volunteers and sympathy from the Filipinos who might want to hold out a hand, I could hear them announcing a long-list of victims still suffering from the last bad storm whom until now shriver atop their roof, waiting for anybody to help, from which famous TV personalities are part of.

For years now, the long-talked issue of global warming resembled around the world, films and documentaries have been shown to raise the awareness of people around the world, but their voice becomes mute as nobody seemed to listen. We tend to shrug and keep our ears shut with this impeding issue. "That's nonsense," some tend to say.

But shrug not, and awaken when lots of families were shocked with the heavy downpour of the typhoon named "Ondoy" last Saturday, September 26. Floods were everywhere, along the roads of urban Metro Manila, and farmlands devastated in provinces only in a span of about 8 hours. PAG-ASA Weather Bureau Chief Nathaniel Cruz spoke of it as the worst typhoon that has hit Metro Manila and gave a strong impact for the last 100 years. Ondoy threw an average rainfall reaching to 420, equivalent to the average rainfall per month. Milenyo's eye, years ago, even passed through NCR but never raised anything like this but Ondoy whose core never really got here caused twice, or maybe even, quadrupled, the disaster.

One question: Is this what we fear? The product of all our actions, the consequence of the long-fought battle on global warming. Hands advocating for environmental protection seemed not enough, all has to participate.

This catastrophe never chooses whose lives to spare or not. TV personalities are part of the list, people we know are being aired on TV asking for help. We never expected this happen, or maybe we might have if we just listened to the voices.

I am just as delighted hearing the combined efforts of private companies extending a hand for help, sending donations of their products, and wealthy families who were only affected a little who share sympathy by sending amounts of money. This is a test -- for the whole nation, and for every Filipino -- a test of unity, good heart, and cooperation. Government effors aren't enough, their rubber boats so weak that they couldn't resist the surge of the flood in some areas. Each of us has something to do for us to get through this big trouble.

This, I hope, will be for the last time. The next events shall leave us not numb and dead but well- informed and knowledgeable enough to lessen what nature's evil side could give us.

Sobs

The moccasin dance of raindrops
One by one, they leave marks
Beautified by the beats of drum rolls
Coloured by the chants of tribesmen, eager.

Splashes, moisture grows, with my sob
Dews by finger strokes on leaves revealed an image
Not of a face, but of two hands unclenching.
By the parachute of rain, with the parade of horse clouds.
Two hands set apart, bidding farewell.

***

On the middle of the road, over the white fading parallel lines of the pedestrian, one of the things I hate in my life happened again. The sudden single break of the jeepney going to SM got my hair untidy, and I, of course, have to brush it up.

It wasn't a good break, not for the driver either. The old-looking wiper brushes the wind shield, yet leaves it undried, just lines of scratches mocking the passengers. The road ahead wasn't even a vivid one, pounds of rain stung the hard muscles of the Oblation, the man who never showed a bright face, or a gloomy one, but all he did was to offer himself to the heavens.


Back to the bad break. It wasn't just the old-looking wiper that impeded the take off, but also its colleague, the elderly driver in his sixties, who seemed to need his glasses to see the blurry image of the avenue. Doesn't he even have a retirement plan on his own? He's getting older and older, and still, he keeps on inhaling the smog. He chooses to forever be a jeepney driver; But who cares for he must have good wives, and that is probably his edge to other guys out there. Loving your job would lead you to happiness. So true.

However, funny thing it is to see something like this: a hand reaching out saying, "Bayad po, ma, senior," and giving out the 6-peso coins, while in turn, shaky wrinkled arms take them, and answer back, "Nasa Maynila ho kayo. Oh, Bakit 6 lang ito?!" I now doubt if change is really a permanent thing.

I nearly fell off with that hard break with nothing to grasp on. The rails on the jeepney's roof were no-no's to me. I could remember my childhood days when my dad told me not to hold at something in public places (knobs, rails, rods, etc) for I might catch something I would forever regret. Well, see, I learned, but that didn't bring me good. I tried to touch it a little, only with one finger with a face of disgust. But a single finger wouldn't save you, and with that break, I almost toppled down.

What's with that break? I thought it was because of the unclear road ahead that made the driver follow safety precautions. I thought it was because of the disastrous Low Pressure Area seen miles away from Manila. I could never imagine how little rains before, those ITCZ-things, LPA's, and cold fronts, cause deep floods, shipwrecks, losses, and even deaths nowadays. The little things before are now regarded as big ones. Well, that's global warming, as Al Gore explained in an hour of film viewing during our Bio 1 class. By the way, I love how he stepped on that stretching device used on threatical plays to show the increasing levels of carbon dioxide over time.

The pourdown of rain hasn't stopped, there were drops of water leaking through the transparent window covering and wetting the back of my Penshoppe shirt. I inched my body forward to keep it from getting wet, although my bag had already enjoyed the splashes of the rain. A smile relieved me of thinking about the hectic days coming in when a little girl handed the 100-peso bill to the driver, uttering in her impish voice: "Bayad daw po." That girl might probably be 4 years old, a Cha-cha-look-alike, seated beside her youthful mother still fresh from her shell. I wonder how the driver felt when her tiny fingers touched the rigged palm of his to hand in the fare.

There was indeed something in the face of the child that made me smile, that made me put out a heartfelt grin. But what faded it were two things, things that made me raise questions.

"O, eto sukli sa 100, oh," the driver said holding out bills of 20, and coins of 5.

Nobody responded, all but the young girl were staring out and counting the droplets of rain. Once again, it was the child who reached out planning in her mind to take those bills and coins, and fit them inside her clenched fist.

Just as she touched the driver's hand, he angrily said, "Hoy, huwag iyung walang isip, yung may isip!" Whatever it meant to the passengers, her mother instead took the change and handed it to the other.

A minute of silence followed, an eerie one, until... "Para ho sa tabi."... somebody urged the jeepeney to stop. It was the child's mother. But what changed my good impression on the mother because of how I perceived the child was how she acted, so rubblishly insane. Instead of carrying the feet tall child down the jeepeney, she did something REALLY different. She, in herself, walked to the jeep's door, and went down. In the knowledge of the driver, the two were already outside and the jeepney made a slight move. But the lady shouted furiously, "Wait lang po!" And the jeepeney made a break, halted. The girl, unconscious of her surroundings who cannot make a cry, was left there on the seat with a blank face, while her mother made all the way down, keeping her poise, and her body shape.

With that, I just can't keep myself from saying thanks to the office worker on trousers and sleeves who held the girl and guided her as she followed her mom out of the vehicle.

"Tignan mo 'to. May isip nga pero hindi gumagana!" That was all the driver had said.

Oh, where am I again? Those scenes were highly noticeable ones -- little but meaningful. Okay, let's have a roll down... the rain, the jeepney, the Biology class... oh yeah, it's about the biggest break midst the road. Well, good thing there weren't any other cars passing by. Points of rain drops bombarded the windshield, and the driver simply stopped the motion of the wiper for it was entirely useless, it just makes everything more vague. I found myself regaining my composure, sweeping back my hair to a tidy image, and holding on the jeepney's rails.

I took a deep breath, and made a smile -- not the same heartfelt smile but a sarcastic one -- followed by a sigh -- not of relief, but a sigh of annoyance. We stopped with a strong break ending everything, not because of the blurry road, not because of the blurry eyes of the driver, and I just realized, it was all because of the 'para' of the stressful-looking UP stude, clumsily holding a Trigonometry notebook that she reviewed as she made her way to her next class.

And she got off the jeepney, whispering to herself, but heard by others, "Ang layo na ng AS, lampas na ko. Haaay."

Breathing Patterns

True! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am.

I never knew that it was the last time -- the last time I am to pull a bill of money and hand it over the vendors at lunch, the last time I am to watch a controversial noontime show in my handy television, in my mobile phone, and the last time I am to snap the magnets of the coin purse given by my father long time ago.

It has not been such a long time since I started to jump in and out of jeepneys and inhale eerie substances coming from the cars's monoxide and people's breath. Since I walked beneath the heat of the sun, feel the droplets of sweat pouring down to my neck, and spend every minute before I sleep applying facial scrubs to take pimples away which undeniably came from those pollutants. These thing I never experienced in the past. And now, I am starting to be with the realities of life.

Seated on the side where light shone upon the jeepney, I struggled to keep the heat away, and at the same time covering my nose with the hanky to avoid the the smoke. I really hated how it smelled and how it irritates my senses and I wonder why my co-passengers bravely looked at the outside inhaling what they thought was breeze to dry off their surging sweat. That day came a couple of days after the solar eclipse and intensely warm temperature followed then.

The jeepney ran so quickly that I seemed not to find any chance to call a "Para" or a "Sa Tabi Lang Po" to the aggravated driver getting over from a quarrel over the barker at the terminal. It was so embarassing for me to utter "Para" for I have that 'letter R pronouncing deficiency'.

Ma, sa tabi lang. And the breaks suddenly hit stopping at the corner of the street.

I descended the jeepney and started to walk my way to our house. I was on Tiwi Street, a long walkway stretching up to the other side of the village. The street where our house belongs is called Makban and I have to turn left and take the road. But on the junction connecting Tiwi and Makban, there were three man dressed ruggedly in sandos and shorts, cynically standing at the middle of the junction, confused. They were standing far apart to each other as if a choreographic position.

"...Sa walang tao..." The man wearing a cap said to his companion.

A jolt swept past my mind and in a very abrupt manner, I came to ask myself this exact thought, "What did you just say?" I walked past them ignoring what they were intending to do and trodded. Yet my senses were at work. All I heard after the puzzling words were quick slipper footsteps overlapping mine. I turned my head back and saw them walking along the same street I was in. A lump rose within me as if dictating me to do something. I did.

I paced in a quicker manner than usual, with my blue backpack dangling behind my back. The footsteps were coming closer and faster. The sun I expected to give me a shadow of the three men behind me was concealed by the clouds. Sleights of wind were blowing, motioning my tiny hairs, and waving my blue shirt.

One block away from our house gate, the guy with this cap asked me and I was able to see that he's got an incomplete set of teeth, "Anong oras na boy?" I took a deep breathe and looked at my Titus watch, and whispered, "Ahm... 3:00..."

Somebody just grabbed me by my bag, cornered me to our neighbours planter's box just a meter from our gate, and another man with an untidy curly hair rubbishly asked, "May cellphone ka? Akin na cellphone mo, wallet mo." There were three of them and I did not know what I supposed to do, my voice was trembling, soon to cry, as they took my TV phone away and as he pulled my wallet from my pocket.

All happened with a blink of an eye, and me as unconscious and unnerved of whatever was happening just like a toddler's pacifier taken aback by a bully. My heart began to beat faster as they ran quickly away from me, their sluggish work done successfully. I could never utter a word, or even shout having told not to by one of them or else their gonna hunt me back. I was afraid.

I took a few steps to our gate, with my bag hanging sadly in my right hand maybe just as shocked as I was, and placed it on my bed. All I could tell myself was 'why?' I tear couldn't fall even if I liked to. I never have ever expected nor imagined that it would happen to me, right there in front of our neighbor's house. News just share it to me and I watch it with eagerness trying to contemplate on the possible reason some people are doing such things, capturing innocent ones. And that very day, I was the victim.

It was the last time.

Since then, paranoia has dominated my mind whenever I ride a jeepney. I look at all sides, examining each face and actions, moving away from any suspicious person with utmost nervosity. There were even times when I can't resist the feeling of intense distrust and I simply get a jeepney stop on a road and get out from it. Those were assurances though it may sound and look so awkward. I may not be the person who would be such a hero to fight against them only not to give away my personal belongings. But for me, that is not the case. Possiblities provide accurate conclusions yet in some times, mistaken thoughts. Life here has always been at stake. Who's who? and Which is Which? Nobody knows. It better to be sure, than to be a stupid person who thinks that everything would be alright. We live now in a world far much different from the past. People will do everything to live provided that poverty inclines in a gradual ascension. If home usually was called a safe haven, now, it may just be one cold hiding place.

Every stranger is a suspect.

Broken Connections

Looking for the post about the second part of the INC Day? Sorry guys but I couldn't find any time to post it here on Blogpost due to its length. Just refer to my blogsite in on Friendster Blogs for the second part.

Thanks a lot. :D

Eternal Constellations: The Iglesia Ni Cristo Day (Part 1)

Droplets of rain kept on pouring outside the bamboo window. The sounds made music with the rhytmic movement of every spec as the sun was concealed within the array of clouds. The July storm has come once again and it hasn't stopped since the first day of that month. The surroundings were beginning to darken thought it was still in the midafternoon. Trees swayed in an unwavered motion as the coconuts fell on the ground -- unkempt by the strength brought by the season and the rushing winds. There were no signs of people trodding and strolling around that small barangay as they were during the afternoon. The marketplace was closed and vendors who have always come yelling for the goods they sold seemed stuck inside their nipa houses. Partly abandoned, that's the word.

In the middle of the weather's commotion laid a meager house with lanterns turned on, flickering and constantly waving reflections to the environment. The swarms of gamo-gamo that usually flocked around lamposts went to the very single light shone within the residences.It was loud outside, sounds of thunder echoed around the village, but it was even more dominant inside the old-looking nipa hut.

The man's voice thudded across the corners of the room, bounced through the muddy ground as it came to the ears of the listeners attentively digesting each word uttered by him. Feet soaked on the wet ground, bodies shivered with the icy cold breeze, but hearts and minds remained steady and focused. Another sound of thunder came as the rain continued to descend heavily. Even louder was the voice of the man contesting the wrath of the climate. On his hand, shoned by a small portion of the torch, was the Bible.

And the storm subsided.

Onto a small group of people mostly his relatives and kins, Brother Felix Manalo has once again blew the trumpet and sparkled the true words of God. The early Church of Christ here in the Philippines started as a mere group -- desecrated, mocked, discriminated, and judged. There in a small nipa hut, the first worship service gathering was held.

Ninety-five years have passed and it grew to be a glorious Church. Members as many as the sands in the sea, gathered as one during its anniversary celebration. I, myself, never thought and never imagined that the brethren's number would be that great. God has been doing His purpose.

Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo has declared July 27, the day of our anniversary, as a special working holiday, to be dubbed as the IGLESIA NI CRISTO DAY -- our moment.

We Will Rock the Country (And the World)

My whole family went off to Araneta Coliseum which would be the venue of the event as early as nine in the morning to think that it would be taking place at four in the afternoon. We were excited, of course, but that wasn't just the reason why we left too early. Right. We expected heavy traffic as almost every member of the Iglesia Ni Cristo (INC) would be going out of their homes around the country to witness that momentous day in Philippine history. That sounded good but please, no pressure.

Looking at all directions, I see signs of anticipation, early goers just like us. The 'Five Star' Bus skimming along the Quezon City Memorial Circle has just got me a hint that it was hired by the INC. A huge banner which read "Grand Anniversary Celebration - Iglesia Ni Cristo Day" posted on its metallic side caught the attention of the masses, no question, they're our brethren. I tried to wave at them through the windows of our car but it was then that I just found out that all of them inside the bus were waving at us with the green-white-red coloured flag of the INC, with smiles on their faces.

We also got a small flag raised on the antenna of our Sports Runner. That was why.

From the bus, I transitted my focus to the sidewalk along the Wildlife Park. White-clad people walked across it holding balloons and huge tarpaulin banners. It was July 27, 2009, the day of the last SONA of President GMA, well, hopefully and I had my first thought -- they are rallyists probably on their way to the Sandiganbayan. But we just skipped the Commonwealth junction and they there were, heading towards the opposite direction. Balloons - white, red, and green ones; shirts that had at the rear the phrase, "Glory be to God!"; banners saying the same thing as the one in the bus. I called it wrong. They are actually members walking their way towards the Big Dome. It was fun looking at them as they enjoyed the time as they were mistaken as activists, and being the point where every eye looked at. It's a risk after all.

Aside from th Big Dome, the Church has also negotiated with socialite people around the country to set venues for the big event. In Luzon, there were massive numbers of brethrens who gathered in Quirino Stadium in Ilocos Sur, the Central Integrated Terminal in Isabela, Narciso Ramos Sports Center in Pangasinan, Villa del Sol-Subdivision-Olongapo-Gapan Road in Pampanga, Ashton Field Subdivision Grounds in Laguna, and the Bicol University Sports Complex and Commencement Grounds in Albay. The islands of Visayas were united in a single celebration held at the Panaad Stadium in Bacolod, and in Cebu Sports Center. In Mindanao, mammoth-sized population took part at Ipil Sports Complex in Zamboanga Sibugay, Davao Agro-Industrial Institute Football Field, and the Butuan City Sports Complex in Agusan Del Norte.

Groups of delegates from countries outside the Philippines have also attended the celebration in international venues at the HP Pavilion in San Jose, California, the Washington Convention Center, Central Hall Westminster in London, Parco Esposizioni Novegro in Milan, and at the Hills Center in Sydney.

Tokyo, Japan - Santiago City, Isabela - Lingayen, Pangasinan

This only shows how far the Church has reached and how much people it has led onto the right path towards Salvation. News had it, classes were suspended in Metro Manila, and major leaders from different countries sent greetings to the Church. We meant nothing with this, only that we would want to show how we became a fruitful nation of God over the 95 years of our existence since its establishment in the Philippines.

To be continued...

Folmensis: The Moon's Deception

CHAPTER 1: OLYMPUS

A dimly dawn met the glistening eyes of Queen Rhea as she rested, tired but had a crafty pose on her bed. The room was filled with silk curtains hanging on the huge four-postered bed where the queen laid. The room looked so glamorous and fitted for a real monarch and yet her eyes were gloomy as Rhea opened her them fresh from the short but meaningful sleep last night. She glanced around the room as if finding something. And at the moment she stood up and moved a little on her bed wearing the alluring night gown and rested her head on the bed’s sideboard, a woman with a laced maroon beret on her head and wearing a smile on her face entered the room with the king looking so much delightful on the arrival of a new life. Rhea moved excitedly and tried to get out of the bed.

“Not too fast, Rhea, don’t be so eager. Remember you have just given birth,” said the king as he sat beside her, “But then I love spoiling it up, she’s a girl, Rhea, a very beautiful girl.”

A small drop of tear was seen on Rhea’s face as the midwife handed her the baby wrapped in a beige linen cloth. The king nodded at the midwife asking her to leave the room. Queen Rhea was caressing and cuddling the baby as she smiled at her.

“What shall be her name, Rhea?” the king asked her.

“I have thought of this name for a long time and I just can’t believe that I would be giving this to our newborn baby. I will call her Mnemosyne.” The king smiled at her and gave her a kiss.

“The next days will surely be bright and blessed for us and for all the citizens of Olympus. A new life means a new beginning!”And the sun started to show up its beauty.

***

You might be thinking, dear reader, why you read words as “king” and “queen” and those old-fashioned stuff like the four-postered bed like that of the beds of the monarchs in the old kingdoms. Yes, they are, and so we are within one. Welcome to the Kingdom of Olympus. To give you a background, Olympus lies on the north of a mystical world called Folmensia which is divided into kingdoms, each of which has its own unique character. The kingdom of Olympus is not your ordinary kingdom as beneath its past lies a mystery. Unlike any other mystical worlds, you might say dear reader, Olympus is a kingdom where magic is non-existing. Those who live in Olympus called the Olympians do not possess any kind of sorcery nor magic. However, they do not desire for it. For them, magic would just cause your destruction or your downfall. For them, magic wipes out challenge and thrill in your life. For them, magic is just an add-on, a taste of a more comfortable life in their world. The Olympians always have valued conduct and proper ethics although there are still some who continue to practice wickedness. The kingdoms in Folmensia live in distinct ways, each has a different way of living as well as a dissimilar leadership. Many kings have reigned the Olympians, and it is very interesting to note that most of them were worthy ones and fortunately only a few did not fit to rule Olympus. King Cronus, Cronus Maximilian Theseus, is the current ruler of Olympus. Being a very deserving king, he is favoured by his people, because why wouldn’t he? Cronus is a kind and loving king for he always prioritizes the welfare and the benefit of the Olympians. But despite all these kings, nobody, even the queen, can ever dig up his outmost personality. He is known as the enigmatic king for he conceals his innermost personality never ever known to Olympus. His family background remains sealed and locked, except that the kingdom knows that he’s got a brother that lives not within the castle grounds but in a placed ignored by many people.

Now that the fourth child is born, what would be the destiny of the kingdom? Oh yes, you heard it right, yes they are four.

***

It was the month of September, few days after the birth of the newborn child, the whole citizen of Olympus gathered within the castle walls particularly at the Great Hal. Well actually not the whole but most of the citizens. Yes, that would be a more appropriate term. “Most of the citizens” because the castle cannot accommodate the huge population of the Olympians. Going back to the story, the Great Hall was filled with people some wearing grand cloths but some did not bother to do that as they only wore the usual dress they wear in their daily life – men wearing light-coloured cotton shirts with a small V-cut on the neck part and a woollen outer garment some used to wrap around their shirt, and a pair of slacks. Women, especially those of the social class called the commoners, wore a beret-like headdress usually made of linen matched with a dress just like that of the Medieval Age in the human world. Curtains were raised in purpose showing the evening sky and the bright full moon.

From beside a window where the dark sky is seen, a woman spoke to another woman friendly (probably they are close friends but I think not because they differ on their dresses – one was wearing a noble’s dress and the other wore the opposite kind – anyway), “How wonderful to look at the full moon, Fortuna, isn’t it?”

The other woman looked puzzled and astounded on what the noble had said, “What did you say? Full Moon?” The nobly woman nodded, smiling, “I didn’t really understand.”

Just as soon as the poorly looking woman said the word “didn’t”, her smile turned into a frown and realized that she said something wrong, “Oh I’m sorry, that’s a foreign word – a word of the Humans. It’s because my son is studying their words and he used to utter those words to me, I’m sorry,” she said the word Humans in a whisper, “That really means the Folmensis.”

“Oh I see, so you mean to say the Folmensis, oh yeah, no doubt about that. The Folmensis really is good luck for me. You see, every time the Fomensis comes out I really receive a good profit in my selling goods, really.” And they finally left the place where they were standing as they heard the call of the king.

The Folmensis, or the full moon, was really a good sign for the Olympians. You noticed something, dear reader? Oh, the name of their world, oh yes, Folmensia, Folmensis, Folmensia, Folmensis. Well in fact, the name of their world rooted from the term “Folmensis” which is an old belief that a Folmensis in every month is a good luck to the Folmensians (a general term for the citizens of Folmensia) especially to the Olympians. The belief, as well as the name, still originated from the early inhabitants on Folmensia which, every full moon, good things always have prevailed and dominated the kingdoms. Those things were commonly in a form where there is good harvest, reconciliation between rivals and family feuds, justice for those who are oppressed, or an age of fruitful years in families. That is the reason why most gatherings, banquets, and special occasions were held whenever there would be a Folmensis. And now for Cronus and Rhea, the Folmensis brought them a really excellent gift – the birth of Mnemosyne.

All were now settled at four long tables situated at the Great Hall lined vertically facing another huge but a grander table intended for the king, his consort, his family and the royal subjects. Foods were now served hot and fresh by the castle helpers as spoons and forks as well as glasses clanged and chimed – truly a sign of jubilance and excitement. What was very noticeable was that the foods and the dishes being served were different and new to the eyes of an ordinary person. There was a beef steak cut in somewhat a shape of a crescent moon and poured with (anyway, it’s –mouth-watering) a golden sauce which they call as “Aurica”, whatever it is. There was also a food that looks like a chicken but not, just a counterpart of it, which seem to be a different kind of a bird-animal slaughtered and eaten like how to eat a roasted chicken. They call it as (oh not another weird name), “Türken” /tyurken/. Now let us listen to what the king’s saying in front of a rostrum shaped like an eagle with its head protruding at the centre facing the audience and the pulpit’s platform resembled the body and the wings of the eagle. And he began to speak wearing the golden crown in front of the crowd.

He cleared his throat which caught the attention of some who were still chatting, and his voice echoed the hall, “Today, my dear citizens, we all gather here for a very special occasion. We all gathered here with the emergence of the Folmensis in the month of September which we call the ‘Fruit Folmensia’. And yes there is a fruit,” he glanced back for a second at Rhea holding Mnemosyne wrapped in a fuchsia cloth sitting at the table behind him. Along with Queen Rhea were her other children namely Iapetus, the first born aged 7, the beautiful and bright girl Coeusia aged 5, and the third child aged 3 named Themis. The king and queen’s family, aside from the members of the court were present except for one man who left a seat unoccupied, Cronus’ brother Hades.

“And there is a fruit, a fruit that has been the product of our everlasting love, Cronus and Rhea’s love. And we are here in front of you, dear citizens, to present to you our fourth child, Mnemosyne,” Rhea, together with the three children, went beside Cronus as she carried Mnemosyne in front of the crowd. Applauses, shouts, and cheers followed as a sign of overwhelming happiness and joy.

“We gratefully present to you our daughter, Mnemosyne!” King Cronus spoke and raised the baby girl up for the people to see the cute little baby girl. More and more cheers covered the Great Hall as they clapped and stood up to give due respect and hail the king.
“Long live the King and Queen, and their family! Long live Olympus!”
“Thank you so much,” the queen uttered under her breath tears of joy turned up on her delightful face watching the cheering crowd. On the other hand, Cronus was not that glad and exultant although a smile could be seen on his face. From time to time, he took a glance at the window as if expecting somebody to arrive.

***

The people who attended the evening gathering were gradually fading off as night continued to fall. Every person who met either the king or the queen congratulated them or if not, greeted them with warmth, as they passed by them. Night has finally shown its true form along with the hoots of the owls and other nocturnal creatures roaming around the palace grounds. Well except for the luminous moon which evidently displayed its brightness in the middle of the wide vast dark sky. But the day was not yet finished with the king and queen, although it’s already an hour before midnight according to the huge hourglass located on one of the towering towers of the castle. While the four children were now quietly resting and snoring inside their room, Cronus and Rhea were walking along the staircases from the hallway which was filled with fascinating paintings and sculptures of prominent Olympians, just like the huge painting which showed a warrior riding some kind of a horse but with a single horn above, oh yah, a unicorn. The very masculine and well-built warrior was named Perseus who defeated the leader of terrifying invading tribes called the Monstrogoths (monstrous creatures) in 347 F.Y. (Folmensian Year).
King Cronus and Queen Rhea were followed by two young and silly knights and two peons (or slaves). They walk so briskly as if running and chasing somebody. Cronus was a bit ahead of the group and his wife was trying to catch up, almost running while holding on the lower part of her suit.

“Quickly, we’ve got no more time,” Cronus agitatedly said in almost a shout, “We’ve only got a few minutes and –“Rhea signalled the knights and the two peons to stop for a while, and went in front of Cronus. He halted as they went pass the final archway leaving the courtyard.
Rhea asked him, “Cronus, you look so worried. Is there something bothering you to troubling you? Tell me if you have any problem.” He just looked down and said nothing which added sadness to Rhea’s face. A wind blew past them.

“Cronus, I know that you’re a kind of person who hides what he feels and does not release the outburst of your emotion. You are reticent and also secretive, I know that, Cronus. But you look so worried. Please, Cronus, for goodness’ sake, could you tell me what the matter is?”

“Rhea, it’s nothing, er... nothing’s bothering me,” Cronus said, still with his head bowed, “Let’s go no, we’re late for the council meeting. Let’s go.” The knights and Cronus’ peon (because Rhea also has her own) went past Rhea and followed the king. The queen stood for a moment watching her husband as he entered the doorway.

“Cronus,” she uttered to herself and went on.

***

From the Great Hall, let us now traverse to a circular room walled with blue-green wallpaper and the windows were made from a highly standard glass. This circular room was intended for important meetings and conferences such as council meetings. There was a chandelier lighted with magnificent candles on the ceiling which lighted the round table positioned at the centre of the room. Seated around the table were ten people known as the Olympian Council (the other two were standing near the window). The Olympian Council is composed of twelve members who are elected every four years; in other words, a council member may only serve for a least four terms.

Seating wearily around the table, the council were having something like an informal chit-chat while waiting for the monarchs to arrive. It was already past eleven and most of them were closing their eyes deliberately, soon to be asleep. A man named Notharcus spectacled by half-moon-shaped glasses was reading a book to enjoy himself in the middle of a quiet and boring surrounding but then he could not prevent closing his tired eyes momentarily while reading. Most of them were sleepy and were just trying to wake themselves up by moving their limbs or stretching from time to time. Well except for the two persons who were in a middle of a serious conversation not far from the council and their voices could be heard.

“Osiris, for goodness sake, stop it,” said the lady with a blonde hair to the man beside her. In the tone of her voice, she seemed very annoyed and exasperated maybe about something that the man has told her. She walked away from the window and sat at the table placing her hands full o golden jewelleries on her temples. The man followed her and halted at the back of her seat.

“Why don’t you want to believe me, Cytherea,” Osiris said, “I am just telling you the truth.
"When I went into the inn last night, I met a man and a lady and told me that there is a prophecy for the kingdom of Olympus, our kingdom. Isn’t that believable, Cytherea?”

“And what makes it believable? Most prophecies are lies, they’re only guesses, theories without any factual basis, especially when it came from a Casterian which makes them even more ridiculous!”

“It’s true, prophecies are real, and I can prove it, I can, I can, I can!” Osiris insisted.
One of the council interfered their conversation mainly because he wanted to escape drowsiness,
“Osiris, you know, yes Casterians do possess magical powers but look, their thinking are different that ours. They believe in magic and we don’t. Their lives are dependent on prophecies and divinations, nonsense things, and we don’t, we each live distinct lives and therefore nobody from other kingdoms influences us.”

Osiris was stunned on what he said and for a few seconds he did not respond. Cytherea waited for an answer but nothing came so she just spoke, “See? If ever there is a prophecy, we Olympians should never ever believe at those and prophecies are – “ The deep tone of her voice suddenly came into a halt as they heard the turning of the door knob. The king entered the room and the council made a sudden reaction as soon as they saw him. Osiris, previously standing at the back of Cytherea’s seat rapidly sat on the vacant chair, some jumped onto their seats and arranged their dresses, Codrus who had been asleep for several minutes stood abruptly and wiped something out of his face. The king cleared his throat and sat at one portion of the table, the chair with the highest backboard. The two nights together with Cronus’ peon stood behind him as he opened some scrolls put on the table in front of him.

The king started to speak, “Good evening, my dear council, I’m sorry I hadn’t been on time because,” the king sighed, “of some reasons.”

Cytherea spoke with her deep and lively tone, “Your majesty, where’s the queen. I can see that she’s not present. Is there something wrong?” The council turned their faces at Cronus who answered back,

“Don’t worry, Cytherea, she’ll be coming very soon. Oh there she is!” The king’s seat was facing the door that was why whoever entered the door would be seen by Cronus. The councilall turned their backs at the queen coming in. Rhea, after nodding and smiling at the council as a greeting, sat beside the king. Finally, at the middle of the midnight sky, they can begin.

“Well now that the queen is here, we better start the meeting,” the king announced, “The meeting we are going to conduct we all know is with regards with...anyone from the council?”
One of them named Ascanius raised his hands and answered, “Regarding the event next month, Your Excellency.”

“Correct,” one of the councils drowsily closed his eyes and the king stared at him, “Do not worry councils, this won’t take so long as it is already midnight. So for us to not waste a second, let me make a short statement.“ He cleared his throat once again.

“It is very known to us that on this coming month, the month of October and the “Harvest Folmensis” we would be celebrating the month of good harvest. This has been a tradition, a ritual of the Olympians. This celebration aims to give honour to whoever who can produce the biggest crop harvested this year among all Olympians. We also know that each year, we make this as grand, extensive and as splendid as possible. Our ancestors had tried their best to commemorate this special event and so to as. I have read that there was even a king who awarded half of the golds the kingdom had to the person who has got the largest crop.” The council was nodding in agreement.

“Oh I know all about those,” Aristophanes, the wisest among them spoke, “But my dear king, did you mention King Felidon for you want us to emulate him?”

“Of course not, Aristophanes, I just want you to laugh even a bit because you all look so pale and sleepy. That King Felidon ended up on – “

“...being overthrown by the Olympians!” Cronus and Aristophanes said at the same time and the council laughed.

“Insanity, craziness,” the queen said mockingly.

After seconds of chuckling and cackling, the king started to ask the council questions in which they suggested what the concept of the event would be; the place where it would be held and other things connected to this one. The council actively participated in the meeting, some injecting funny adlibs and humorous statement to spice up the conference, although these situations, the being active of the council during sessions like this seldom happened. It was really the time of the Folmensis.

And finally after an hour of various discussions, arguments, suggestions, proposals, and even side-comments, they have finally come up with the final decision. First, they have agreed upon the day when the upcoming event will be held and, as usual, on the day of the Folmensis which was often predicted by best astronomers of Folmensia. Second, they have agreed upon on the place where it will be held which underwent into several disagreements and suggestions (One even suggested for it to be held at the Great Tundra located on the coldest depths of Folmensia). And the final outcome: along the coast of the Sea of Meromia. When Aristophanes suggested this place, Cronus’ feelings rose up and agreed fully on this one despite counterarguments of some who said that the Sea of Meromia is resided by horrific citizens of Oceanus, its leader and said that they might still be put in peril if ever they hold it here. But the king and the queen’s decision was final and nobody can ever alter what their meaningful pronouncement was.

“Now that we have formulated the concept of the event, you are now free to go. But before leaving, Hermes, I am now ordering you to spread the news to the Olympians. Good evening and thank you for giving us your supposed time for resting. Once again, thanks to all,” the king declared and stood up.

“For a while, King Cronus,” Cytherea interfered, Cronus faced her, “There is something I’ve noticed earlier in the gathering.”

Cronus sat back on his seat and made a face asking what it is. Cytherea went on, “Your Majesty, if you won’t mind, do you know the reason why your brother did not show up in the ceremony? If you wouldn’t mind, Your Majesty.”

Upon hearing her question, Rhea looked at Cronus, also eager whatever the king’s answer will be, but before doing so, Cronus took a sip from the glass of red wine in front of him. The council stared at him enthusiastically despite showing up their sleepy faces. One of them, an old man probably at 70’s and serving the council for ages even moved a bit forward to hear clearly what King Cronus would say.

“Well, maybe, Hades might not have been feeling very well or,” the king was thinking of a reason which made him stop for a second, “Or he must have been very busy taking care of his children.”
He stopped but then the council’s faces looked as if waiting for the king to continue what he was saying. Cronus unsteadily and shakily closed his eyes and made a very deep sigh.

“Cronus,” Rhea said in a low tone.

Opening his eyes and granting their wish on him going on, he continued, “Hades has lost his wife, you see, so he alone is the one who rises up his children both being a mother and a breadwinner aiming to give them a bright future.” From this statement of Cronus, he made another low sigh when he was about to say the words “Hades has lost his wife.”

And the room was now empty except for the presence of the Cronus and Rhea and the calm sound of the wind breeze outside. Cronus hasn’t talked to Rhea and so she was after their small conversation near the courtyard. And at this very moment, it was Rhea who started the asking again as they faced each other.

“Are you hiding something from me, Cronus?

Cronus began to hold her gently on her cheeks; their heads went closer as the brightness of the moon accompanied them, “No, Rhea, I’m not hiding something, I’m not.”
Rhea made a scowl and asked, “Then why, Cronus, why is that you always feel so troubled whenever we talk about Hades, your brother, or even when somebody mentions his name, why?”

“Don’t you trust me, Rhea?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you anymore but, but I am just hoping that my trust upon you as well as your eternal trust upon me will not ever be detracted, I hope so.” And Rhea let go of her hands from Cronus’ shoulders and left the room, quietly closing the door.
And as the time passed by and the grains fell successively and gracefully out of the narrow part of the hourglass where they are kept and concealed, Cronus was thinking of something deep within his thoughts while he stares at the full moon dominating the dim sky of midnight. And afterwards he uttered a word to himself that as far as I can hear was the word “tomorrow”.

Folmensis Goes Online!

Please refer to the "About Me" sidebar before reading this post.

Done? Well, here it is! The online publication of my first amateur novel "Folmensis: The Moon's Deception"! I have decided to post it here by parts and chapters so as to share it with my dear readers (of this blog, not a professional author to say readers of my novel) and not just to left it be encapped with dusts inside the drawer of my English teacher who holds the only printed copy of the novel. The manuscript is safe within the folders of my laptop. Now, I want it to be published online.

Please do watch out for the first part of the first chapter here on Blogspot and on Friendster blogs. Thanks a lot!

Fact or Fallacy?

Suzie Mendrana has just graduated from college and she is about to face her happiest moment - getting hired for her first job. She went off to a company as early as the cackle of the cock to work on her dream job. Carrying a beautiful smile and an excited face, and wearing a fully hemmed flesh-coloured uniform she has always wanted to have, she trotted past the barbeque stall at the corner of the street and walked toward the jeepney terminal. The footsteps made by her 3-inch shoes gracefully set aside the everything on its way but all of an instance, there was one thing that it had not broken thorugh, a black cat unconsciously crossing the street. She knows what was going to happen and suddenly, her delightful face turned into a drizzly one, decided to retreat and postpone the happiness for tomorrow.

Seeing a black cat crossing a street is said to bring bad luck, she knows it, being raised in a faraway province in Luzon. Her parents have trained her filled with the richness of unscientific beliefs.

Suzie is never alone. Filipinos truly have a huge sense of feeling when it comes to superstitions having been fed without science to cling on. Many inhabitants, especially the ones in the provinces, have always sacrificed the supposed profundity of daily living with the interference of many superstitious beliefs. Simple words can never persuade them to repel from these things. And proofs and evidences may not be as well.

But with the wisdom of greater civilizations, superstition has found its greatest enemy - science. The field of knowledge called science is said to be a general explanation of natural occurrences with inept organization, concise system, and strong discipline. With the advent of science, wrong beliefs finally bid its final goodbye.

From generations to generations, superstitions have been a fundamental part of rural living. Sociologists say that it shapes them, those beliefs have served to be their science. But many of these have hindered the development of progress of mankind - rumoured witches being burned at stake, earning money being rejected, and social life being sacrificed. People just can’t live without these things for, maybe, this is the best way for them to find themselves in the middle of sophistication, coping mechanisms as what they say. Science had been so difficult to understand for most of the populations. They say that its only for the geniuses, scholars, and bright minds, and so, superstitions continue to exist no matter how hard we try to hide them.

So to set the differences between science and supersition, here are some of the collections with their corresponding scientific explanations compiled in Neni Sta. Romana-Cruz’s “Don’t Take A Bath on a Friday: Philippine Superstitions and Folk Beliefs”:

- If you want to know what your lifetime partner will look like, wake up in the middle of the night and take a look at yourself in the mirror while holding a lighted candle. At first, the image in the mirror will appear to be a skeleton. After five minutes, you will see a full view of the person you will marry. (No, thanks. I’ll just be waiting for the right time.)- These gifts prefer not to be on your lover’s hands: Handkerchiefs (it’ll make him/her cry); Pointed objects (it will lead to a broken relationship)

- If a pregnant woman’s abdomen is pointed, her baby will be a boy; if it is round, the baby will be a girl.

- If a pregnant woman wants to avoid the unpleasant symptoms of pregnancy, she should step over her husband while he is sleeping and all of her symptoms will be transferred to him.)

- A pregnant woman shouldn’t have her picture taken, or her child will die at birth.

- Cutting a baby’s eyelashes during her first month will them grow long and beautiful.

- A baby who sucks on her toes means her mother will soon be pregnant again.

- If a child’s milktooth falls out, throw it up onto the roof of the house so that the rats will find it. When the new tooth grows in, it wil be as strong and as powerful as a rat’s tooth.

- Children should not be allowed to play late in the afternoon when the horizon is yellow-orange in color, because evil spirits roam around at the time.

- A person who breaks an egg and finds two yolks inside will be rich

- Do not put your purse or handbag down on the floor, or you will not prosper.

- After you dress up and you immediately discover that you wore your dress inside-out, it means that you are going to receive money shortly.

- If you change your permanent place at the family table, the person you will marry will have a short life.

- If you are to build a house, always begin during a full moon.

The impact of these beliefs still depends on the person whether he/she chooses to hold with these or not. It has been our tradition, and as we know, Filipinos are known for being firm. Firm on their words, firm on their values, firm on beliefs, and firm on customs and traditions. Nothing can stop Filipinos from making their way to greatness

Manners, Dude!

My life, in these past weeks, has utterly changed. From riding a private car to handing a coin to an insanely-looking jeepney driver; from a day without straining my legs walking to the gate, to a form of exercise we were taught in our lecture-based PE 1 subject; and from looking for a bestseller novel in a classy bookstore to picking up an old book lying inconspiciously on a dusty coffee table.

It was Wednesday afternoon when I got home after school that I had come across with a tiny book of my mom sitting on the master’s bed. Puposely or coincidentally, the book was entitled “Manners for Moving Up” written by Jullie Y. Daza. I didn’t know why it was there, a single book atop my mom’s bed looking like an island in the middle of the azure sea. I wonder if my mom tried to get over with some of its pages and recall its content with what happened to her during that day. (Well , I must opt not to tell you about it further)… I picked it up and browsed through the first leaves. One question consisting of a two-word statement blotted on top of the page saying, “Why manners?”

This is fairly a good question with the overlapping web of things transpiring around our everyday living - a man rushing for his 6:00 call time getting on a jeepney with an old lady going to the market about to climb up the steep jeepney platform, a socialite lady trying to push through a crowd just to get her favourite dish about to be empty in an extravagant buffet course. People, in short, have been losing what we deem as “manners” (some say this could be bad or good but for me, unlawful acts and immoral ones do not deserve to be termed as ‘manners’). Jullie Daza states that anybody who wants to win lots of friends has to enjoy the goodness of living by diving into a line of good etiquette. Imagine a truck driver caught for having not placed a plate number onto his gigantic cart smiling away to the policeman forcing him to give his license away. A smile is one way to urge others to treat you well. I do not say this is a form of sweet escape but rather something to ease up things and loosen up some burden. This could even raise friendship between two contrasting people.

Arguments are raised that in a highly globalized world where people get to drive past one another to reach a goal, manners must be merely neglected. Who says so? With the benefits we could get from this that some aren’t able to realize, manners is a ladder way up to the target everybody wanted to attain. Any compaints? I saw one from a bum. Yes, we are open for an opposition. We do not generalize, no. Here are some special cases where manners are a waste of time.

The bum: We hate manners especially that emergency centers us. Who wants to be a Good Samaritan when you’re on an immediate release of stuff??

The hermit: What did you say, young boy? Come over the button of the heart of the center of the forest. (Whatever)

A single cast-away: SOS, that’s all I can say.

A convict on death row: One wish, spare me.

An inmate in a mental institution: I’ve got manners… Hallelujah, amen.

A fetus: *blobs* *spurts*

Got more complainants? Bring them on via a comment on this post.

In the book, I had several encounters on manners we thought were so good but actually a big no-no to the big book of ethical standards.

Watch Your Words. If you think that wealth may be boasted on the telephone by the number of blows you make with your cigarette, you have to make a change. First rule is to avoid chewing or smoking while talking on the phone. It’s a disgust as much of a disgrace to the person you are talking to. Be a responsible telephone linguist.

In A Rush? You’ve Got No Reason To Brush. Never ever try to even comb your hair while crossing the street, riding on a rail transit, climbing through an elevator and much worse, being in a lone queue. Someone could get all that hair in another person’s face right behind you especially when you are a lady.

Ladies and Gentlemen. “Kim, I’d like you to meet Justine.” (Got confused who’s the girl and who’s not? Ah, never mind.. just take note of the following words.) In introducing a person to another, when you are in the middle of it, the woman’s name is mentioned first meaning, you introduce the boy to the girl, not the other way around. Moreover, when going down an elevator or a stair maybe, change the way we treat a lady or, shall I say, change the long tradition of ‘ladies first”. The gentlemen, as far as ethics is concerned, must precede the lady so the lady has a savior standing right in front of her in case she trips off. At the end of the stairs, the man has to hold the lady’s hands and guide her as she steps off the last step.

It’s Paytime! Unless you go into a Dutch treat, there is someone, a person who shall be the day’s hero. Most of the time, we are mistaken by the concept of paying restaurant bills wherein it is always a man who pays for the bill and if a woman does, it is considered a bad manner. Think again. Women pay the bill if: the man is younger (an exception for lovers) meaning, it is a dinner between a boss and a subordinate; second, if he is earning less even if you are planning for a marriage long due; third, if she was the host or the one who made the invitation. Therefore, women also have the right to invite a man provided that she is willing to pay the bill.

Bells and Beads. If overdressing is an illegal act in ethics, overwearing jewels also have its bounds. Women are fond of wearing jewelry all over their body but one shall learn the extense of it. “Jewelry are meant to be seen, not heard.” Got that? It’s all in the quotation.

The Socks That Suck. However hidden may they be, but they are also as important as your undergarments. Any color of socks will match with black leather shoes but you cannot wear white shoes with black stockings or socks. White socks are best suited for rubber shoes, snickers, or any type of casual footwears but not a formal one.

The Ten Commandments. What?! What has the stone tablet got to do with this? Not too fast, it’s the ten commandments of concert etiquette by Byron Belt as an epitome of the audiences.

1. Thou shalt not talk.

2. Thouh shalt not hum, sing, or tap fingers and feet.

3. Thou shalt not rustle the program.

4. Thou shalt not crack thy gum in thy neighbours.

5. Thou shalt not wear loud-ticking watches or jangle thy jewelry.

6. Thou shalt not open cellophane-wrapped candies.

7. Thou shalt not snap open and close thy purse.

8. Thou shalt not sigh with boredom.

9. Thou shalt not read. (In darkness, nobody would dare to do so.)

10. Thou shalt not arrive late or leave early.

Table Manners. It’s okay when you are alone in a table but if you are with others, there are several do-not’s. Do not burp. Do not fart. Do not smoke unless you are allowed to. And do not floss. Do not leave the table at once. Do not doodle on your plate. Do not be a table-manner-know-nothing-at-all.

There was this pizza restaurant that our family always loved to dine into. Everytime we hit the malls, there isn’t a time of day that we wouldn’t rush to eat in this restaurant not only because of the taste and quality of their food, but also with their utmost service. Your hands do not get oily and dirty as you hold the pizza for they’ve got a plate right in front of you paired with a fork and a bread knife. But it was here in this book that I found out that it is unethical to do such thing. As you eat pizza, you have to eat it like how you eat a sandwich. Hold it between your fingers and smash it bite by bite straight to your mouth. “Nobody eats a sandwich by cutting it with a fork and knife.”

Other things that we mistakenly commit are: (1) cutting pastas in bite-sized strands would break the chef’s heart (2) Steaks are meant to be enjoyed including the way you cut it. Never cut it at once, you cut, then eat, cut, and eat. Steaks are not meant to be cut into pieces all at once. (3) It is untimely to eat a finger food with a fork just for the sake of not dirtying your hands. Duh.

***

Now, I say these are just some. If you want to get the full list of Daza’s good ethical behaviour, grab a copy of her book.

Wait a minute, you might have been all stuck there with your eyebrows crossed disagreeing on the whole matter. Again, we do not generalize. You may break the rules when you are a success and don’t care what they say, when you have become a celebrity by a certain style not covering these ethics, when others regard you as odd and eccentric, and when you have all learned them by heart.

As I always say, it is a matter of reasonable choice.