Warning: if you are a hard-core, ultra-conservative Roman Catholic, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS POST. However, if you still choose to go on, well...don't tell me I didn't warn you.
I came across an interesting post by a certain Mike Aquino. Please read on below (taken verbatim from this post):
**********
I no longer consider myself a Catholic
I no longer consider myself a Catholic. No matter how fondly I remember the good parts of being Catholic – the songs, the retreats, the lessons – Catholicism for me became increasingly difficult to reconcile with common sense and decency.
I can’t reconcile so-called Catholic values with the Catholic institution’s nasty tendency to close ranks around its priests. Child abuse in the priesthood was given cover for so long because bishops would rather hide abusive priests rather than confirm that such abuse took place. Justice became secondary to the preservation of appearances.
I can’t reconcile so-called Catholic virtue with its hierarchy’s politics, often exercised to uphold retrograde policies against family planning and reproductive health. Empowered by its mass believer base, the Catholic Church continues to abuse its political power in the secular world.
In Manila, doctors were forbidden to prescribe contraceptives to patients, because Mayor Atienza thought he could implement Catholic doctrine into municipal governance. Church pressure has distorted the Reproductive Health debate; the simple question of “should government-run health centers provide reproductive health services, including artificial family planning methods” has been drowned out by priests railing against it from the pulpits and banners hung from churches.
There has been no good-faith effort by the Church hierarchy to explain their side; there has only been arm-twisting and emotional blackmail. Church representatives have ignored or walked out on any efforts to engage them in discussion.
In short, I can’t believe the Church is moral anymore. A fatal conclusion for someone who was raised to believe that Catholic priests acted in persona Christi capitis, in the person of Christ.
I now know that is a lie; many Catholics, laymen and priests alike, use their faith as cover for some of the most grievous immoralities. Not just in the Philippines; the Church hierarchy is complicit in genocide in Rwanda, torture in Argentina, and child abuse in the West. In persona Christi capitis my ass.
Due to the Church hierarchy’s own actions, the current situation is becoming more and more unstable – the Church cannot maintain the status quo for long. At least two presidential candidates have declared their disagreement with Church policy on reproductive health, a position that would have been political poison a few years ago. More Catholics are speaking out, or voting with their feet. The Church is less and less seen as being infallible – increasingly its clay feet are showing.
In time, I hope an increasingly secular electorate will realize a few things about the Church and the civic sphere:
The Catholic hierarchy’s interests are not those of the community at large. Catholic interests cannot predominate in a multi-ethnic, multi-confessional community. A Muslim or Protestant mother must not be compelled to settle for government services tailored only to meet Catholic sensitivities, which is what happens when the Church is able to bully legislators into substituting the Catholic agenda for the government’s.
The Church can no longer impose its particular views onto a secular government. Bishops may have to settle for a conversation with equals, instead of expecting to have their own way every time. Catholic scholar David Hollenbach argues that Catholic involvement in the public sphere “must proceed according to a mode of dialogue and persuasion… faith and theology are seen as participants in a drama that involves numerous other actors. The church is not the producer or director of this drama.”
In real life, the usurpation of government decision-making by ecclesiastics has always ended up badly for everyone. The Church loses moral authority, government decision making powers are hobbled, and constituents end up being badly served by dogma-driven decisions.
I no longer consider myself a Catholic. I still remember my Catholic upbringing and influences with fondness, but so much of present Catholic doctrine treats truth and morality as if it can be decided by fiat (”Roma locuta est…”), and I simply cannot be a part of that.
**********
This man read my mind.
Personally, I still think that the Roman Catholic faith is beautiful, with simple, common-sense principles rooted in the universal concept of love. And I believe with all my heart that our Lord is a just and loving God. Unfortunately, the mechanisms of the Church are controlled by men, easily corrupted and victims of their own humanity.
Until this time, I get funny looks from people when they discover that I do not attend Sunday mass regularly. But we should live and let live. In the same way that I respect people who do make an effort to fulfill their Catholic obligations, I think I deserve some respect for my personal decisions. While I will gladly take opportunities to show people my belief in my Divine Writer, I refuse to "fulfill" my Sunday duties just because I want to keep appearances. Sorry to disappoint the Augustinian fathers, but I am a servant of the Divine Word, and not of that person who happens to preach from the pulpit.
Faith is defined as "allegiance to duty or a person, fidelity to one's promises, or sincerity of intentions." We should be guided by this definition, with the operative word being sincerity.
The role of the religious order should not be very different from our own parents. While they should uphold discipline, morality and purity of our faith, 1) they should walk the talk and be living examples of these ideals (instead of closing ranks), and 2) while the basic principles of our faith should remain unchanged, some facets need to be modernised to make its teachings less antiquated and, therefore, followed even more faithfully.
I could go on and on about this. Even as I voice out my opinion, my traditional Catholic school upbringing is already debunking some of my arguments. But, ultimately, I stand only by one thing: I would rather be a faithful personal friend to my Divine Writer who chooses to follow his teachings with eyes wide open, instead of a blind follower who keeps holy for one hour every Sunday and goes back to his old, sinful ways the moment he is out of the chapel's doorway.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Schools of Thought
I called my mother the other night and told her the exciting news that I just enrolled my son in nursery school.
At the risk of making an understatement, she was not thrilled at the prospect. She was dismayed that I broke one of her cardinal rules: that we, her children, pledge not to enroll our kids (especially male kids) before they reach the age of five. So across about 3000 miles, I got a sound scolding from my mother. Why are you putting my grandson through this? At his age, he should be getting his fill of sleep and play! I'm telling you, you're setting him on the wrong path...he'll get tired of school quickly and you will regret it! And when the time comes he starts skipping school and flunking, don't tell me I didn't warn you!
I think I got the equivalent of Ronald Weasley's Howler.
My mother admonished me on shirking my responsibilities. She is under the impression that I do not want to take charge of my son's education under my personal watchful eye, which is why she says I would rather stick him in school. I just kept quiet because I know getting a word in edgewise, once she gets heated up, is virtually impossible. Especially when it comes to these things.
Let me set the record straight. In all fairness to my mother, she is in a good position to know about these things. She was, after all, an educator for more than 25 solid years (and counting, if you include the lectures my siblings and I get at the slightest provocation). Perhaps she had observed a pattern in my brothers, in my nephews and other male relations, or in her gazillion students, such that she made her own conclusion. She has this theory that the male of our species tire easily of rigid education, and so we must endeavour to delay formal schooling until the last possible minute. In place of school, it is a parent's duty to instruct the child from home, in as conducive a manner as possible, using a play-to-learn approach.
It does sound very ideal. In fact, she used the system on me (even if I am female), so she likes to dangle my intellectual superiority over my siblings to drive in the point (disclaimer: the point expressed is my mother's opinion and not mine).
So why, then, did I not subscribe to her school of thought?
For one thing, I have an opinion on why her system worked so wonderfully for me: SHE was the one teaching me. In my mind, she is still one of the best English teachers around (which explains why I excel in grammar and literature, while failing miserably in Math and Science). I don't think it will work as well for my son if he is stuck most of the day with only the caregiver around. Case in point: after only about two months of being with her, malutong na syang managalog ngayon. At may puntong Ilonggo pa. And I can't blame him because he only spends a few waking hours with us parents during weekdays.
Now don't get me wrong. I have no intention of completely eradicating Filipino from his vocabulary. In fact, I want him to be strong in both languages in oral and written form. My thinking is, the household is mainly Tagalog-speaking, and since he can understand and converse perfectly well in the language, then what remains for us to build will be his English vocabulary and grammar (which is mostly my job, because he knows it's English when he speaks with Mommy). That's on top of the Mandarin which he has yet to learn (and for which he will not be able to get help from any of us).
Secondly, I believe that the time is right to send him to school. He is showing an eagerness to learn, evidenced by the thousand-and-one "why's" I receive daily. His curiosity is insatiable, and I'm afraid the knowledge I have may not suffice. It is truly marvelous for a parent to observe a child's hunger to learn. He can't stop reading, he can't stop asking. And so, there's that window I will NOT miss. I want him to be eager to go to school. I don't want to risk waiting, and find out later on that I have to force him to go because the eagerness had passed.
Most importantly, perhaps, I am painfully aware that my son sorely lacks some age-appropriate company. He is stuck with us adults 24/7. I had that kind of childhood, being the youngest in the brood (my nearest sibling is 11 years older than me). I get all kinds of praises from my parents' friends, on how well-behaved I am, and how very adult I was acting. Now, I hear that kind of opinion often expressed about my son. Which, in my opinion, is not so good for his well-being.
With all due respect to their parenting style, focused as they are on developing my intelligence, they kind of overlooked the growth of my emotional intelligence. I know that it's a fairly new concept and may not have been en vogue when I was a kid, but the fact of the matter remains that EQ is important in making a well-rounded individual. I had a hard time adjusting to my peers when I was younger, and I don't want my son to go through the same difficulties. True, I get compliments that I am "wise beyond my years" and have "older insights", but can one not be precocious yet fully-adjusted to peers? At this point, developing his social skills is something I want for him.
I am blessed to have such an opinionated mother. She is the type who will form her own judgment and will fight you tooth-and-nail for what she believes in. Unfortunately, it is also a trait I seem to have inherited from her.
My heart says I should send my son to school. And I believe it.
At the risk of making an understatement, she was not thrilled at the prospect. She was dismayed that I broke one of her cardinal rules: that we, her children, pledge not to enroll our kids (especially male kids) before they reach the age of five. So across about 3000 miles, I got a sound scolding from my mother. Why are you putting my grandson through this? At his age, he should be getting his fill of sleep and play! I'm telling you, you're setting him on the wrong path...he'll get tired of school quickly and you will regret it! And when the time comes he starts skipping school and flunking, don't tell me I didn't warn you!
I think I got the equivalent of Ronald Weasley's Howler.
My mother admonished me on shirking my responsibilities. She is under the impression that I do not want to take charge of my son's education under my personal watchful eye, which is why she says I would rather stick him in school. I just kept quiet because I know getting a word in edgewise, once she gets heated up, is virtually impossible. Especially when it comes to these things.
Let me set the record straight. In all fairness to my mother, she is in a good position to know about these things. She was, after all, an educator for more than 25 solid years (and counting, if you include the lectures my siblings and I get at the slightest provocation). Perhaps she had observed a pattern in my brothers, in my nephews and other male relations, or in her gazillion students, such that she made her own conclusion. She has this theory that the male of our species tire easily of rigid education, and so we must endeavour to delay formal schooling until the last possible minute. In place of school, it is a parent's duty to instruct the child from home, in as conducive a manner as possible, using a play-to-learn approach.
It does sound very ideal. In fact, she used the system on me (even if I am female), so she likes to dangle my intellectual superiority over my siblings to drive in the point (disclaimer: the point expressed is my mother's opinion and not mine).
So why, then, did I not subscribe to her school of thought?
For one thing, I have an opinion on why her system worked so wonderfully for me: SHE was the one teaching me. In my mind, she is still one of the best English teachers around (which explains why I excel in grammar and literature, while failing miserably in Math and Science). I don't think it will work as well for my son if he is stuck most of the day with only the caregiver around. Case in point: after only about two months of being with her, malutong na syang managalog ngayon. At may puntong Ilonggo pa. And I can't blame him because he only spends a few waking hours with us parents during weekdays.
Now don't get me wrong. I have no intention of completely eradicating Filipino from his vocabulary. In fact, I want him to be strong in both languages in oral and written form. My thinking is, the household is mainly Tagalog-speaking, and since he can understand and converse perfectly well in the language, then what remains for us to build will be his English vocabulary and grammar (which is mostly my job, because he knows it's English when he speaks with Mommy). That's on top of the Mandarin which he has yet to learn (and for which he will not be able to get help from any of us).
Secondly, I believe that the time is right to send him to school. He is showing an eagerness to learn, evidenced by the thousand-and-one "why's" I receive daily. His curiosity is insatiable, and I'm afraid the knowledge I have may not suffice. It is truly marvelous for a parent to observe a child's hunger to learn. He can't stop reading, he can't stop asking. And so, there's that window I will NOT miss. I want him to be eager to go to school. I don't want to risk waiting, and find out later on that I have to force him to go because the eagerness had passed.
Most importantly, perhaps, I am painfully aware that my son sorely lacks some age-appropriate company. He is stuck with us adults 24/7. I had that kind of childhood, being the youngest in the brood (my nearest sibling is 11 years older than me). I get all kinds of praises from my parents' friends, on how well-behaved I am, and how very adult I was acting. Now, I hear that kind of opinion often expressed about my son. Which, in my opinion, is not so good for his well-being.
With all due respect to their parenting style, focused as they are on developing my intelligence, they kind of overlooked the growth of my emotional intelligence. I know that it's a fairly new concept and may not have been en vogue when I was a kid, but the fact of the matter remains that EQ is important in making a well-rounded individual. I had a hard time adjusting to my peers when I was younger, and I don't want my son to go through the same difficulties. True, I get compliments that I am "wise beyond my years" and have "older insights", but can one not be precocious yet fully-adjusted to peers? At this point, developing his social skills is something I want for him.
I am blessed to have such an opinionated mother. She is the type who will form her own judgment and will fight you tooth-and-nail for what she believes in. Unfortunately, it is also a trait I seem to have inherited from her.
My heart says I should send my son to school. And I believe it.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
What's in a name?
The other day, I was teaching my son his middle name. He knows his given names (he has two) and his surname by heart, even knows how to spell his full name, so I thought he ought to know about his middle name. After all, that is my father's legacy to me.
So here's the scene. I just revealed his middle name to him. My son looks up to me with mild surprise:
MIGUEL: Mommy, why do I have so many names now?
MOMMY: Baby, that's your middle name.
MIGUEL: What's a middle name?
MOMMY: Your middle name was your Papa's (grandpa's) surname. That was my surname before Daddy and I were married. Now, I use Daddy's surname, and so do you.
MIGUEL: Why isn't it a misname? It's a misname.
This one left me scratching my head. My son has a penchant for coining terms, depending on how he understands the prefix and the suffix. His English is far from perfect but it is a confusing language, after all. My interpretation of "misname" was something like "misspelled", and so I prodded him further:
MOMMY: (confused) You mean it's wrong? No, my surname is correct.
MIGUEL: (exasperated at the stupid mom) NO! I said misname! It's not SIR-name, it should be MISS-name coz you're a girl!
So here's the scene. I just revealed his middle name to him. My son looks up to me with mild surprise:
MIGUEL: Mommy, why do I have so many names now?
MOMMY: Baby, that's your middle name.
MIGUEL: What's a middle name?
MOMMY: Your middle name was your Papa's (grandpa's) surname. That was my surname before Daddy and I were married. Now, I use Daddy's surname, and so do you.
MIGUEL: Why isn't it a misname? It's a misname.
This one left me scratching my head. My son has a penchant for coining terms, depending on how he understands the prefix and the suffix. His English is far from perfect but it is a confusing language, after all. My interpretation of "misname" was something like "misspelled", and so I prodded him further:
MOMMY: (confused) You mean it's wrong? No, my surname is correct.
MIGUEL: (exasperated at the stupid mom) NO! I said misname! It's not SIR-name, it should be MISS-name coz you're a girl!
Monday, October 12, 2009
Monday Randoms
The high point of my week occurred this morning: I just finished enrolling my son in Nursery! He will be starting classes on the first week of January, and will be attending afternoon sessions between 1:00-5:00 pm.
I cannot believe how fast time flies. My baby will be a school boy in the coming months, and that means he will start having a life of his own, away from me. Prior to enrollment, one of the thoughts I had was, will my boy be crying and clinging on to my skirt (or denims) when it's time for him to enter the classroom? That remains to be seen on the 4th of January, but seeing how tickled pink he is at the thought of going to school, it looks like I'll be the one left to deal with my own separation anxiety!
It's a big step for everyone. For my son, it's a whole new world for him, the start of many years of academic learning and social education. For both my husband and I, it will primarily be a crash course on proper budgeting. And then there will be the lifestyle changes; apart from having to think about monthly expenses, we can no longer go on spur-of-the-moment holidays, seeing that our activities now has to follow the Ministry of Education's 2010 calendar.
Adjustments notwithstanding, my son is excited to attend his classes. He has a sense of ownership already ("Have you seen my school? Did you see my teacher today?"), he's looking forward to wearing his 1st uniform, and he's happy that some of his playmates will become his classmates. As for me, sure I have the normal maternal fears (Will there be bullies in class? How can he eat properly when I have to chase him around for each spoonful of food? Will he be able to cope with his Mother Tongue (Mandarin) class?), but overall, it will be for everyone's good (well, I HAVE to send him to school at some point, right?). And ultimately, I think that Mommy and Daddy will learn a lot in the course of the school year.
********************
Which brings me to another point. I think I'll have to learn Mandarin together with my child. Number 1, I need that to help him with his lessons. The principal explained to me this morning that kids will bring home one book per week to read together with their parents...so if it happens to be in Chinese, then what the hell will I do? Pin Yin, here I come.
Number 2, it's logical. I'm living in a Chinese-speaking country, and for practical reasons, it's a good idea to learn the language. I'm pathetically stuck at "Ni Hao" and "Xie Xie", so I'm welcoming the opportunity to learn alongside my son. If anything, it will be a great bonding experience for us.
And thirdly, assuming my son will be perfectly conversant in the language in the near future, I wouldn't want to be shut out from his activities with Chinese-speaking friends, right? (Oh dear, I sound like a nosey Mom there...).
********************
That said, I am stuck in the office all by my lonesome self (at least in my department). My colleagues are in Indonesia today to celebrate an ex-colleague's wedding. Both hubby and I were actually invited, and I was really looking forward to going. Unfortunately, we had to wriggle our way out at the last minute because of some personal circumstances and schedule problems. Then, there's another co-worker currently in Scotland for a two-week holiday.
So while they are out cavorting in the streets of Jakarta or busy roaming the Scottish highlands, here I am keeping house. Thank goodness blogging is keeping me occupied.
*******************
Hubby and I will be celebrating our 9th anniversary as a couple this November. It's funny because until now, we remember that anniversary better than our wedding date.
As luck would have it, Hubby will be missing this important anniversary because he has to attend a roadshow in Bangkok. He's asking me to join him on his trip so we can have a Thai celebration, but the practical side of me is kicking in and I am wont to refuse.
It must be a sign of the times. Imagine throwing away a nice holiday in favor of practical reasons! I'm getting old!
********************
On more inane things, that pink cow on FarmVille is frustrating me. I can't adopt one on time. I want one!
I cannot believe how fast time flies. My baby will be a school boy in the coming months, and that means he will start having a life of his own, away from me. Prior to enrollment, one of the thoughts I had was, will my boy be crying and clinging on to my skirt (or denims) when it's time for him to enter the classroom? That remains to be seen on the 4th of January, but seeing how tickled pink he is at the thought of going to school, it looks like I'll be the one left to deal with my own separation anxiety!
It's a big step for everyone. For my son, it's a whole new world for him, the start of many years of academic learning and social education. For both my husband and I, it will primarily be a crash course on proper budgeting. And then there will be the lifestyle changes; apart from having to think about monthly expenses, we can no longer go on spur-of-the-moment holidays, seeing that our activities now has to follow the Ministry of Education's 2010 calendar.
Adjustments notwithstanding, my son is excited to attend his classes. He has a sense of ownership already ("Have you seen my school? Did you see my teacher today?"), he's looking forward to wearing his 1st uniform, and he's happy that some of his playmates will become his classmates. As for me, sure I have the normal maternal fears (Will there be bullies in class? How can he eat properly when I have to chase him around for each spoonful of food? Will he be able to cope with his Mother Tongue (Mandarin) class?), but overall, it will be for everyone's good (well, I HAVE to send him to school at some point, right?). And ultimately, I think that Mommy and Daddy will learn a lot in the course of the school year.
********************
Which brings me to another point. I think I'll have to learn Mandarin together with my child. Number 1, I need that to help him with his lessons. The principal explained to me this morning that kids will bring home one book per week to read together with their parents...so if it happens to be in Chinese, then what the hell will I do? Pin Yin, here I come.
Number 2, it's logical. I'm living in a Chinese-speaking country, and for practical reasons, it's a good idea to learn the language. I'm pathetically stuck at "Ni Hao" and "Xie Xie", so I'm welcoming the opportunity to learn alongside my son. If anything, it will be a great bonding experience for us.
And thirdly, assuming my son will be perfectly conversant in the language in the near future, I wouldn't want to be shut out from his activities with Chinese-speaking friends, right? (Oh dear, I sound like a nosey Mom there...).
********************
That said, I am stuck in the office all by my lonesome self (at least in my department). My colleagues are in Indonesia today to celebrate an ex-colleague's wedding. Both hubby and I were actually invited, and I was really looking forward to going. Unfortunately, we had to wriggle our way out at the last minute because of some personal circumstances and schedule problems. Then, there's another co-worker currently in Scotland for a two-week holiday.
So while they are out cavorting in the streets of Jakarta or busy roaming the Scottish highlands, here I am keeping house. Thank goodness blogging is keeping me occupied.
*******************
Hubby and I will be celebrating our 9th anniversary as a couple this November. It's funny because until now, we remember that anniversary better than our wedding date.
As luck would have it, Hubby will be missing this important anniversary because he has to attend a roadshow in Bangkok. He's asking me to join him on his trip so we can have a Thai celebration, but the practical side of me is kicking in and I am wont to refuse.
It must be a sign of the times. Imagine throwing away a nice holiday in favor of practical reasons! I'm getting old!
********************
On more inane things, that pink cow on FarmVille is frustrating me. I can't adopt one on time. I want one!
Friday, October 9, 2009
Bitten by the bookworm
(Does one get bitten by a bookworm, or does one accidentally bite into one (gross)?)
A few days ago, I was itching to read. I was in the office and I wanted to take an early day off because I JUST HAD TO BUY A NEW BOOK. I don't know why but the feeling was that urgent. So as soon as the clock hit 6:30pm, I ran out the office and went out of my usual route home, just so I can pass through the bookstore.
Here's my loot:
Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat Pray Love
Haruki Murakami's Kafka on the Shore
Jodi Picoult's Salem Falls
En route to the bookstore, I promised myself I would only get one title to satisfy my reading lust. Of course, no matter how hard I try to keep my resolution, it never happens. Although I'd have to say my guilt feelings were a bit assuaged as I got the last two titles on a "buy one, take one" promotion :) On this side of the world, books are a wee bit more expensive than in good old Manille; on average, a paperback costs $17.99, or almost Php600.00. So snagging it under the promo price, that's about $8.99 per title, or around Php300.00 each. Not bad, right? And so, with that triumphant little victory, I proceeded to purchase a third book under the regular price, hahaha (greedy little me)!
Books have always been a personal extravagance. Although, when I think about it, it's not exactly an "extravagance". I write for a living, and so I take it upon myself to continuously expose myself to good writers. Plus, I'd like to think I'm setting a good example for my son. I'm glad to note that he seems to be a voracious reader (I didn't even know he knew how to read - and he just turned three at the time!). That being said, I have to be extra careful now about the titles I pick up and the cover illustrations, because he always asks me what I am reading, and he can already read the title all by himself.
And while I have not even taken two books out of their shrink wraps, I'm already greedily eyeing a few more titles, most of them sourced from this website:
The Sookie Stackhouse series - this was the basis of the hit series, "True Blood" (Dead Until Dark, Living Dead in Dallas, Club Dead, Dead to the World, Dead as a Doornail, Definitely Dead, All Together Dead, From Dead to Worse, A Touch of Dead)
The Artemis Fowl series (Artemis Fowl, The Arctic Incident, The Eternity Code, The Opal Deception, The Lost Colony, The Time Paradox)
The Monster of Florence, Douglas Preston and Mario Spezi
Memoirs of my Melancholy Whores, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Uncommon Reader, Alan Bennett
Nineteen Minutes, Jodi Picoult
Eye Contact, Cammie McGovern
My Friend Leonard, James Frey
The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold
Swift as Desire, Laura Esquivel
Merrick, Anne Rice
Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging, Louise Rennison (but how will I explain this one to my son?)
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, Patrick Suskind (now how do I put the blasted umlaut on his surname?)
There's also Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol, which just hit the book stands. I'm a big fan of Brown and Robert Langdon, but something tells me this just might not live up to my expectations (he might be giving in to publisher pressure, for all I know). That one ranks on the bottom of my to-read list. Let's see how many of these titles I get to strike out...assuming I would remain faithful and not be distracted by the thousands of other paperbacks out there!
So I look forward to this weekend surrounded by the smell of new books. Looks like I'm gonna be keeping a few late (but happy!) nights.
A few days ago, I was itching to read. I was in the office and I wanted to take an early day off because I JUST HAD TO BUY A NEW BOOK. I don't know why but the feeling was that urgent. So as soon as the clock hit 6:30pm, I ran out the office and went out of my usual route home, just so I can pass through the bookstore.
Here's my loot:
Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat Pray Love
Haruki Murakami's Kafka on the Shore
Jodi Picoult's Salem Falls
En route to the bookstore, I promised myself I would only get one title to satisfy my reading lust. Of course, no matter how hard I try to keep my resolution, it never happens. Although I'd have to say my guilt feelings were a bit assuaged as I got the last two titles on a "buy one, take one" promotion :) On this side of the world, books are a wee bit more expensive than in good old Manille; on average, a paperback costs $17.99, or almost Php600.00. So snagging it under the promo price, that's about $8.99 per title, or around Php300.00 each. Not bad, right? And so, with that triumphant little victory, I proceeded to purchase a third book under the regular price, hahaha (greedy little me)!
Books have always been a personal extravagance. Although, when I think about it, it's not exactly an "extravagance". I write for a living, and so I take it upon myself to continuously expose myself to good writers. Plus, I'd like to think I'm setting a good example for my son. I'm glad to note that he seems to be a voracious reader (I didn't even know he knew how to read - and he just turned three at the time!). That being said, I have to be extra careful now about the titles I pick up and the cover illustrations, because he always asks me what I am reading, and he can already read the title all by himself.
And while I have not even taken two books out of their shrink wraps, I'm already greedily eyeing a few more titles, most of them sourced from this website:
The Sookie Stackhouse series - this was the basis of the hit series, "True Blood" (Dead Until Dark, Living Dead in Dallas, Club Dead, Dead to the World, Dead as a Doornail, Definitely Dead, All Together Dead, From Dead to Worse, A Touch of Dead)
The Artemis Fowl series (
The Monster of Florence, Douglas Preston and Mario Spezi
The Uncommon Reader, Alan Bennett
Eye Contact, Cammie McGovern
Swift as Desire, Laura Esquivel
Merrick, Anne Rice
Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging, Louise Rennison (but how will I explain this one to my son?)
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, Patrick Suskind (now how do I put the blasted umlaut on his surname?)
There's also Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol, which just hit the book stands. I'm a big fan of Brown and Robert Langdon, but something tells me this just might not live up to my expectations (he might be giving in to publisher pressure, for all I know). That one ranks on the bottom of my to-read list. Let's see how many of these titles I get to strike out...assuming I would remain faithful and not be distracted by the thousands of other paperbacks out there!
So I look forward to this weekend surrounded by the smell of new books. Looks like I'm gonna be keeping a few late (but happy!) nights.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
A Child's Prayer
I never claimed to be deeply religious, but I believe I am a spiritual person. I look up to my Divine Writer and I know that it is my responsibility to raise my son along the right path.
Every night, I ask my son to say a short prayer to his Papa Jesus. I am amazed at how innocent and utterly free of greed a child's prayer can be. Here is a sample of his nightly conversations with Papa Jesus:
"Dear Papa Jesus,
Thank you for my toys and my milk and my clothes and my food.
Please bless my Mommy and my Daddy.
Please bless the vegetables in the market.
And please bless me.
Amen."
Last night, my son overheard my Skype conversation with his Daddy, who is currently on a business trip in Bangladesh. I didn't even know he was listening, so I was quite surprised to hear he had a very special request:
"Dear Papa Jesus,
Thank you for my toys and my milk and my clothes and my food.
Please bless my Mommy and my Daddy.
Please save my Daddy from the dirty toilets.
Thank you for our clean toilets.
And please bless me.
Amen."
Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." ~ Matthew 19:14
P.S. Photo credits belong to Getty Images
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
A letter to my son
My dearest son,
One of the things I'd like you to learn is that nature is a great equalizer. Whether you live in a palace on top of a hill, or in a shanty under a bridge, we all live under the same sun, and we are all at the mercy of the same rising and ebbing tides.
Last Saturday, September 26, 2009, Typhoon Ondoy (international name: Ketsana) visited Philippine shores and brought unspeakable tragedy in its wake. Weather reports predicted that it packs maximum winds of 100kph, but nobody imagined what kind of damage the rains would leave behind. Imagine dumping a month's worth on the city in a span of nine hours! And it did not discriminate: rich and poor, young and old, famous and nameless faces alike, all of them were left holding on for dear life.
I followed it this entire weekend through internet news and photos, and I am left speechless and almost in tears. Main thoroughfares were rendered impassable, and familiar places became alien landscapes submerged in floodwaters (some as deep as 20 feet!). Just look at the photos and see for yourself:
Ayala underpass in the heart of Makati
Cainta, Rizal
Marikina (one of the hardest hit areas - those are people on the roof)
Katipunan, Quezon City (where, incidentally, the Presidential son was found purchasing liquor from a store not 100m away from where this is!)
Some photos, I could not bear to include here. It includes children (some younger than you at this time) going hungry on rooftops…animals swept away and drowned helplessly…victims fished out from the muddy flood. Some accounts said that in the space of an hour, floodwaters rose from ankle-deep to 6 feet high; in some places, it was as deep as 20 feet. And, mind you, it wasn’t a silent stream: it was a raging tide that swept away concrete houses and heavy cars like plastic toys. Your grandma even recounted that the rain was so heavy, it sounded like someone was dumping bucketfuls of water on the roof (thank God she’s safe, as well as our other loved ones).
What is incomprehensible is that all this happened in a span of nine hours. I am not even going to bring in politics and the ill-preparedness of our farce of a government. That is already a glaring fact. But, one day, you will be the head of your own family, and though I continue to pray that you never see anything like this in your lifetime, I want to pass you on some pearls of motherly wisdom:
1. ALWAYS keep an emergency kit in your house. Include a reliable flashlight/emergency lights/candles/matches, spare batteries, sturdy ropes (in case you need to tie something, or need it to cross surging waters), basic medicine, canned food, bottled water, disinfectants, a heavy tool like a crowbar, and perhaps a list of important phone numbers stashed in a waterproof casing.
2. With reference to #2, periodically check your stash and make sure they are still in good working condition, and the perishables are not expired.
3. At the first hint of danger, quickly move to a safer location. Do not wait until it is too late. In the face of impending disaster, it is always better to err on the side of caution. And forget about your possessions, they are not worth your life: leave them if need be. You can always replace them, but lives lost can never be bought again.
4. In case you are caught (and I pray it never happens), do not panic because others will look to you for support. If you crumble, they will drown in their own fears, and that is not a good thing. Keep your presence of mind at all times.
5. No man is an island, as the old saying goes. Never be too proud to ask for help, nor be too up high on your own pedestal as to deny others your help. But, please, know your limits and DO NOT BE A HERO. As your grandpa once said (God rest his soul), the mistake of some rescue workers is that they try too hard at the wrong time, and instead of helping, they become part of the statistics.
It is during times like these that I keenly feel how much I love our country. The images leave me choking back tears and my heart bleeds for our fellow Filipinos. It feels so real to me, especially when I check my social networking sites and see my friends’ status updates, photos showing their firsthand experience of the event. And – perhaps more horrifying for me – there’s the silence of those who cannot even access their accounts because they are stuck on their roofs, praying for rescue.
For our part, your Daddy and I are thinking of scraping up whatever amount we can to donate to the victims of the typhoon. It isn’t much, as we also have to extend some assistance to our immediate family, but we believe that every effort counts.
I could choose to teach you to live simply and not care for designer clothes, fancy gadgets or spiffy cars. Instead, what I would like you to learn is, as you forge on with your life and build a comfortable nest for yourself and your future family, DO NOT FORGET TO BUILD YOUR CHARACTER. You are a man, after all, and I expect you to be a pillar of strength. And possessing a certain amount of material wealth means that you will be in a position to give help when time calls for it. Like I said, we all live under the same sun, and so you must always strive for humility, and for responsibility towards your fellowmen. Never imagine for one moment that you are above anyone else.
At the end of the day, I believe that the Filipino spirit will prevail and will see our nation through. But take the painful lessons that we have learned with you, and never forget them. Pass them on to your children someday, remind them how truly resilient their countrymen are. Remember, too, that we reap what we sow; take better care of our environment, as the price to pay usually comes with human lives.
As for you, my dear son, wherever life takes you, always be in touch with your motherland (and your mother, as well!), and say a silent prayer each night for her.
Be safe always. I love you.
Mommy
One of the things I'd like you to learn is that nature is a great equalizer. Whether you live in a palace on top of a hill, or in a shanty under a bridge, we all live under the same sun, and we are all at the mercy of the same rising and ebbing tides.
Last Saturday, September 26, 2009, Typhoon Ondoy (international name: Ketsana) visited Philippine shores and brought unspeakable tragedy in its wake. Weather reports predicted that it packs maximum winds of 100kph, but nobody imagined what kind of damage the rains would leave behind. Imagine dumping a month's worth on the city in a span of nine hours! And it did not discriminate: rich and poor, young and old, famous and nameless faces alike, all of them were left holding on for dear life.
I followed it this entire weekend through internet news and photos, and I am left speechless and almost in tears. Main thoroughfares were rendered impassable, and familiar places became alien landscapes submerged in floodwaters (some as deep as 20 feet!). Just look at the photos and see for yourself:
Ayala underpass in the heart of Makati
Cainta, Rizal
Marikina (one of the hardest hit areas - those are people on the roof)
Katipunan, Quezon City (where, incidentally, the Presidential son was found purchasing liquor from a store not 100m away from where this is!)
Some photos, I could not bear to include here. It includes children (some younger than you at this time) going hungry on rooftops…animals swept away and drowned helplessly…victims fished out from the muddy flood. Some accounts said that in the space of an hour, floodwaters rose from ankle-deep to 6 feet high; in some places, it was as deep as 20 feet. And, mind you, it wasn’t a silent stream: it was a raging tide that swept away concrete houses and heavy cars like plastic toys. Your grandma even recounted that the rain was so heavy, it sounded like someone was dumping bucketfuls of water on the roof (thank God she’s safe, as well as our other loved ones).
What is incomprehensible is that all this happened in a span of nine hours. I am not even going to bring in politics and the ill-preparedness of our farce of a government. That is already a glaring fact. But, one day, you will be the head of your own family, and though I continue to pray that you never see anything like this in your lifetime, I want to pass you on some pearls of motherly wisdom:
1. ALWAYS keep an emergency kit in your house. Include a reliable flashlight/emergency lights/candles/matches, spare batteries, sturdy ropes (in case you need to tie something, or need it to cross surging waters), basic medicine, canned food, bottled water, disinfectants, a heavy tool like a crowbar, and perhaps a list of important phone numbers stashed in a waterproof casing.
2. With reference to #2, periodically check your stash and make sure they are still in good working condition, and the perishables are not expired.
3. At the first hint of danger, quickly move to a safer location. Do not wait until it is too late. In the face of impending disaster, it is always better to err on the side of caution. And forget about your possessions, they are not worth your life: leave them if need be. You can always replace them, but lives lost can never be bought again.
4. In case you are caught (and I pray it never happens), do not panic because others will look to you for support. If you crumble, they will drown in their own fears, and that is not a good thing. Keep your presence of mind at all times.
5. No man is an island, as the old saying goes. Never be too proud to ask for help, nor be too up high on your own pedestal as to deny others your help. But, please, know your limits and DO NOT BE A HERO. As your grandpa once said (God rest his soul), the mistake of some rescue workers is that they try too hard at the wrong time, and instead of helping, they become part of the statistics.
It is during times like these that I keenly feel how much I love our country. The images leave me choking back tears and my heart bleeds for our fellow Filipinos. It feels so real to me, especially when I check my social networking sites and see my friends’ status updates, photos showing their firsthand experience of the event. And – perhaps more horrifying for me – there’s the silence of those who cannot even access their accounts because they are stuck on their roofs, praying for rescue.
For our part, your Daddy and I are thinking of scraping up whatever amount we can to donate to the victims of the typhoon. It isn’t much, as we also have to extend some assistance to our immediate family, but we believe that every effort counts.
I could choose to teach you to live simply and not care for designer clothes, fancy gadgets or spiffy cars. Instead, what I would like you to learn is, as you forge on with your life and build a comfortable nest for yourself and your future family, DO NOT FORGET TO BUILD YOUR CHARACTER. You are a man, after all, and I expect you to be a pillar of strength. And possessing a certain amount of material wealth means that you will be in a position to give help when time calls for it. Like I said, we all live under the same sun, and so you must always strive for humility, and for responsibility towards your fellowmen. Never imagine for one moment that you are above anyone else.
At the end of the day, I believe that the Filipino spirit will prevail and will see our nation through. But take the painful lessons that we have learned with you, and never forget them. Pass them on to your children someday, remind them how truly resilient their countrymen are. Remember, too, that we reap what we sow; take better care of our environment, as the price to pay usually comes with human lives.
As for you, my dear son, wherever life takes you, always be in touch with your motherland (and your mother, as well!), and say a silent prayer each night for her.
Be safe always. I love you.
Mommy
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