visual arts

Last week the Alaban family of artists held an one night exhibit at the Teletech premises in Calindagan, Dumaguete. Featured were the collective works of the entire family (Joel, Lenny and their kids Nadine, David and Sarah) namely: terra cotta on wood, paintings and sculpture. They will have another exhibit this June at the Coco Amigos Restaurant.

Flowers for Mom

Woman and moon

Beso beso

Marine biologist and dance choreographer Iday Reboton also did some dance numbers for the Teletech show.

Iday (center) and her dancers posing after their number. In the background are the Alaban paintings of the Casa Roro Falls.

getting married?

Just in case you 're getting married or know anybody planning to get married or having a debut or a baptismal or a birthday party or a clan reunion or office party in Dumaguete or in nearby vicinities (including Bohol, Cebu, Bais, Tanjay, etc.), may I recommend [opo, plug po ito :-)] ...

Creative Concepts (click on the above logo to go to their website) is my friend Grace Sycip's events coordinating company that has been hosting events like the above mentioned for a couple of years now. Since Grace and the people who work with her are all my friends, then I'm probably biased. But in all honesty I can really vouch for their work. Excellent talaga. Di' ako mahihiya to recommend them.

Tonight we just came from one such event, the wedding of our friends Bogs and Rhecelyn. I missed the wedding ceremony though as work finished late today. I got there just in time for the reception to begin. The place was so beautifully decorated, with ceiling works (meaning the ceiling was swathed in white cloth) and an elegant Grecian theme for the stage. Most everybody was in silver-gray, the wedding motiff of the year, I heard. When Rhecelyn danced with her Dad, I thought the music was playing from a CD until I saw that it was Lambert Villa, Guia's husband, who was singing! Oh, my goodness! I didn't know he sings so well!

After that it was time for the newlyweds' first dance and Bogs did a double take and almost cried. He did not know that the song for their first dance was going to be sung by his new bride! It was quite difficult, to waltz and sing at the same time, but it was sweet movement indeed.

(Now I have to go. Nakikipost lang ako kasi brown out sa amin. Bye.)

another one from 5488

SMARTBRO Advisory:

We r pleased to inform u dat d cellsite serving u is nw bak in service. Again we apologize 4 d service interruption. thank you 4 bearing w us.

Not so! Broadband connection still very patchy.

from 5488

SMARTBRO Advisory:

D cellsite serving u is currently unavailable affecting internet connectivity in ur area. Restoraton work is ongoing. sorry for the inconvenience.

Broadband connection is very patchy... hope it will better tomorrow.

dance

" Dancing rings"

That's the name of Jose Datuin's stainless-steel work that won the grand prize for sculpture in the international Sport and Art Contest in connection with the 2008 Beijing Olympics. "'Dancing Rings' recasts the conventionally horizontal Olympic logo into a vertical leap of faith, much like a gymnast or a classical dancer in action, to signify both human grace and human solidarity," says the report in the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

And these here below are "dancing sculptures" outside the Luce Auditorium (gray building in the background) in Silliman campus. The following images will not have captions as actions do speak louder than words. You can make your own captions, if you like. ;p

about food

My entry for TBR # 11 is over here .

pila sa bigas

by National Artist for visual arts - Vicente Manansala

between ecstasy and chagrin

That is what I felt last night, as I sat with the Dumaguete National Writers Workshop fellows and panelists as well as the staff of the NCCA (National Commission for Culture and Arts) and the SU English Department at the Fellow's Graduation Night. The nerve! I had totally no right to be there yet I felt so at home in their company. My heart was at rest and at a flutter all at the same time. In medicine, we would probably call that a regularly irregular arrhythmia. In local parlance, that would be "ang kapal ng mukha mo."

But anyway, after the caveats and disclaimers, let me just barge on and say I had a blast. I had an extraordinarily fabulous time. (eekk. can't think of a better modifier) ::sigh:: I have a long way to go before I can become a fellow but libre naman mangarap, di ba? After three weeks of (sporadic) sitting-in and eavesdropping, I've learned lots of things. Tons. Jordan said something about admitting one's ignorance. Well, that, I have plenty of. Like, I didn't know there is a difference between journalistic writing and creative writing. And that there is this relatively new animal species in Kingdom Literati controversially called "creative non-fiction." And that cliches are totally taboo in creative writing. That's why I found it so funny when the Tokwa and Leslie introduced their group song number deliberately using a bunch of hoary cliches like "friends forever" and other such lines which I can't recall right now. I do recall being very, very amused with their spiel.

After the fellows sang "Stand by me" one of them said, "Mabuti na lang,
marunong kaming magsulat!" meaning that their writing is better than
their singing. I agree. Oh, except for Margie, who has a very good singing voice as well as superb writing talent. Yesterday morning, Ma'am Rowena called her a virtuoso, for her consistently exquisite fiction. And another panelist said Margie's work has made his coming all the way to Dumaguete worthwhile. Marguerite de Leon, a name to watch in Philippine literature!


Now back to the program. Emcees were Boy Abunda (Igor) and Cherry Pie Pecache/Aiai de las Alas (Liza). Special mention was made about Tokwa, who is in his early twenties yet and already is a Palanca awardee! Everybody got suya so they decided to become awardees too, even if they gave the awards themselves. So the Katsubong Awards was born, katsubong being a local herb rumoured to be hallucinogenic.

All the fellows and panelists got awards but I can't recall all of them right now. I remember Lambert's award, of course. He got the "Swapang sa genre award" as he submitted entries in all categories (poetry, short story, creative non-fiction). Panelist Susan Lara got the "ang ganda ng lola mo pahiram ng earrings" award. Margie got the "stiff neck award" because that was her pose in most of her pictures. Sir Sawi got the "chick-boy basang sisiw hairstyle" award. And for Mom Edith the "pahiram ng national artist award" award. The awards of the panelists who were not present were received by their "representatives," fellows who impersonated them! For example, Sir Butch Dalisay (impersonated by Arlene) got the "binagyo sa Manila/Cebu/Tagbilaran award."

Then they had a drama presentation called "How we coped with the panelists' butchering of our work." Lambert played the generic panelist while the other fellows acted out their own coping strategies which ranged from distractions, i'm-on-vacation-actually, anyway-i-have-other-skills, oh-you-got-the-wrong-manuscript-po, to i'm-gonna-kill-you.

The highlight of the evening was the presentation of "the fellows give back to Dumaguete" token. The fellows came up with a PUBLICATION, every writer's dream, a booklet, a compilation of their works, about Dumaguete, written in Dumaguete during the first two weeks of their stay here. Sea[sic] is the name of their secret project. They said this is their way of showing their gratitude to the panelists, to the city of Dumaguete and to their sponsors, the NCCA and the SU English Department.

After that it was the panelists' turn to speak. They said their final pabaon messages to the fellows AND read more poetry. As can be imagined, it was a treat listening to all these people, panelists and fellows alike. All their words were so carefully chosen.

There were a few irksome moments, though, as during the poetry reading, some people from the other tables (by the way, the venue for the graduation dinner and program was at the Hayahay Restobar, which was fully packed that evening) were talking and laughing in loud voices. Obviously, they did not care to listen to the poems. Oh, well, to each his own. (sorry, cliché!) They probably thought mga weird man na sila, uy. Reading poetry? As for me, I was perfectly happy to be in the company of the “weird people.”

to the 2008 writing fellows

the writing workshop

Best hear about it straight from the workshop fellows themselves:

Noelle Leslie

Jordan


And I've been saying and saying that Lambert is my favorite fellow. Well, it seems that he's also a favorite of the other fellows and panelists as well. When he speaks, other fellows take photos and videos of him. And one panelist said to another, "O, i-hire mo na si Lambert" to which Lambert said, "'Di pa ako graduate."

We all look forward to hearing Lambert's commentaries which are deep and incisive. His being well read and having an impeccable command of language are already givens. His 'what do i know, i'm just an overstaying student' attitude is endearing which is quite unlike other intellectuals who turn other people away with their kayabangan.

Here's a poem by Lambert. This poem has been lauded for strengths and lambasted for flaws. You be the judge.


A Short Shonagun

I want to have a pond where
it would be wonderful to swim
or at least dump giant boulders in.

I want to have a house that doesn't have walls
everything would be windows
and the breeze and the sun would say wake up it's morning
and the chill and the moon would say it's time to lie down and sleep.
then I would fold away the roof
and as this house is in the province
the stars would all be present and
in their proper places and
the rest of the sky would be black
but here the stars have meaning and you
would want their ancient lights.
and also since it has forty four floors
I'd be so high up I can see the sky curve down
in all directions and I would be reassured that
the world is round and I could reach
you if I traveled or you'd eventually come
if I waited long enough.



There was another poem in the workshop, written by Leslie, that was so evocative it actually made me cry. But I'm not printing that here. Here's another poem by Leslie that I liked very much.


The House of Logic

Impressive, how you stacked the bricks so neatly,
The main columns ponderous and confident
And on your roof, not a shingle out of place.
I can scarcely imagine the inner intricacy
What doors would open to which chambers
Or how to navigate the secret hallways.
You spent a lifetime building this mansion,
Plotting the hidden cellars and trapdoors
And a panic room in case of an invasion.

But the door was open, and I entered
Was almost lost in the labyrinth of corridors
Feeling my way through the intractable darkness,
Believing I was alone in the fortress—
Till I wandered into the farthest wing
And found you huddled in a corner, shivering.

our very own

There's David Archuleta and there's David Cook and then there's Ryan Seacrest.

We'll, SUHS Batch '78 also has it's own Ryan Seacrest.

Leo and wife Minggay

Don't you agree?

Hey, he even has his own fans club. ;p

Leo 'RyanSecrets' G. with Jane B.

Leo 'RyanSecrets' G. with Emma G.

Here’s an unforgettable Leo/RyanSecrets anecdote:

It was the second day of our 2005 reunion in California and my batchmates and I went to buy some stuff in a grocery store. The boys got some beers and at the check out counter the lady asks Leo/Ryan “Do you have a license?” Stunned, Leo wasn’t able to reply. Checkout lady asks more directly, “Are you over 21?” Leo wanted to answer, “Yeah, I’ve spent over 21 years in the navy!” but he sort of choked on it. We all gulped our screams down and hurried out the door so we could guffaw to our hearts content at the parking lot. ;-)

spilled paint

My cousin, Mich, emailed me this picture entitled "The day God spilled the paint."

This was taken by Barbara Matthews at the Temblor Range, west of Bakersfield, California.

And here's another field of flowers that is like a rainbow on the ground in Hokkaido, Japan.

I didn't take these pictures but I'm dreaming that someday I will. In the meantime, let's enjoy these photos that others shot.

before the creed, the deed

This is Dr. Mike's inspirational speech for the SUMC post-graduate interns' graduation a couple of weeks ago. It was addressed to the PGIs but at our table, I could hear assent and approval from the consultants, saying they needed to hear that as well. Michael's message is simple, told in simple language, nothing earthshaking. What makes it powerful though is the fact that even before the words were spoken, everyone could see that the messenger lives the message; he actually walks the talk.

This guest post today, published with permission, is also my entry to The Blog Rounds # 10, hosted by Doc Joey.


______________________


On being a doctor, a teacher, a father and a husband

by Dr. Robert Michael T. Ozoa


Thirty days ago today, I arrived at my clinic and found this “open letter” on my table. It was signed by the interns’ class president and it did not come with the usual envelope that we get around this time of the year. I thought it was just another tulisitation letter. Because it was open already I immediately got to read its contents ---- it was the invitation to give the inspirational talk today.

My initial reaction? Wow. Gulang na gyud ko. In between patients, I was thinking up excuses to beg off. …

PTA meeting?… but school was out.
Piano recital?... but that is going to be in June yet.
Kulang ko’g maid… but that was very far from the issue.

Then, Dr. Gaballo came to my clinic and would not take no for an answer. So I am here today.

I am really new at doing this kind of talk, a beginner, in fact. I’m not sure if I can actually talk about being a “physician, teacher and father” as what the letter of invitation stated. That is quite a lot of things to talk about. I am just 40 years old and as the cliché goes, life begins at this age. But at this age, I have had my share of lessons learned, on my own, as advised by family and friends and others I’ve read or heard from somewhere.

To the graduating class, you have chosen to become doctors and you are very, very close to becoming full pledged ones. The cost of going to med school is very high, the return of investment takes a very long time and there is no retirement. That’s the downside to it. However, the upside far outweighs the downside.

It is a very noble profession. You are instruments of God to continue His healing ministry. The ministry to heal the utmost of His creation - MAN. People come to you for help. To ease their pain. Listen to their woes. At times, your healing goes beyond the physical. Family or personal issues have to be resolved. Put dignity in our profession. As one of my teachers in med school would say, “It is the only profession in the world where you ask somebody to undress in front of you, touch him or her anywhere you want and you get paid for doing it.”

Much is expected of you and maybe because you hold life itself in your hands, patients will believe you. Believe you more than their parents, spouses, politicians or even more than their pastors or priests. Family members will ask you to convince their patients to quit smoking or drinking and sometimes your mere presence would mean a lot to your patient and their family.

Very soon, you will be taking the board exams. If you make it, you will get your licenses. But the learning process will not have ended. To some, the real thing will just begin. Go into residency training if you can. The idea of finally going to earn money and get some of the things you need and want is very attractive. … but residency is not a walk in the park. You might have to give up family or relationships; but that is just temporary. There is an end to it.

Going into residency is the only sure way of saying goodbye to 24 hour duties but still do hospital work. For the women, your biological clocks are ticking and you might be in a hurry to start a family. By all means, go ahead. Each one of us has had a classmate or two who went through med school while starting a family.

But don’t get me wrong about residency training. You can still practice medicine wherever you want to. If going to the barrios and serving the least of our countrymen makes you happy – go ahead. In the first place, that was the very answer you gave during your interview when asked why you wanted to be a doctor when you entered med school, wasn’t it? How about going into nursing? It might be practical also but I advise you to try being a doctor first.

Whether you go into residency training or not, be sure not to neglect updating yourself about medicine. Attend meetings, conferences or conventions once in a while. Don’t go there just for the food. Medicine is an ever growing science. Ideally, journals are the way to go but these are expensive. Register with MEDLINE or PUBMED. It’s free. They’ll send you relevant e-mails long after your high school buddy has stopped forwarding chain e-mails. Unknowingly, you might be practicing medicine “oido”. But the one who goes to find out the why of things achieves more than the one who just did it because it was the way he saw or heard how somebody else did it.

Don’t keep the things that you learn to yourself. Show as much passion for teaching as for learning. Teaching is the closest thing you can get to gaining immortality. Be careful with what you teach. Some people take what you say hook, line and sinker. And you might be quoted on it. You don’t have to teach only about medicine. When you get kids (I got 4) you will be teaching them their ABCs, good manners and about life in general. Practice what you teach. Especially with kids, leadership by example is still the best.

Of course, you should not have kids just because I told you so. If and when you have found that someone who you can imagine being the first person you see when you wake up in the morning for the rest of your life, then make that commitment with him /her. Get married, start a family. Like everything else, it doesn’t get cheaper if you delay it. And if it is true love, it will stand the test of time.

Years ago, when people asked me how long I have been married I tell them there are two answers to the question: i.e. from the time I said my I dos in church and from the time I started actually living with my wife and kids. I now realize it is the same time. You don’t cease to be a husband or a father because your wife or kids are not beside you. Don’t forget your vows and work hard to make the relationship work and last.

We are in difficult times. The basic unit of society, that is the family, is at constant threat. The future is so uncertain. Parents have to leave their children so they can provide for the family’s needs. It is a shame that for the sake of survival, raising a family has to come in second of your priorities. It will be hard but so your union is meaningful, “procreate”. Kids are kapoy work pero makawala ug kapoy. I can go on the whole day and tell you about the antics of each of my kids. Each is different and a challenge. Even my twin sons have different personalities. Everyday is a blessing.

You know what my greatest fear is for my family? It is the fear that I have not loved them enough. My wife and I had our share of being “geographically single parents”. When I was in residency training at St. Luke’s in Manila, my wife, Grace, raised our eldest son, Miggy, in America. She said that even if she gave her 100% to Miggy, it still would not be enough because a child needs 100% from each parent. Now that we have four children, we are busy giving our all that we don’t have the time to calculate how much love we are giving each one of them.

Rev. Golosino once told me that children spell LOVE as T-I-M-E. As a parent, you will have to make the time, even if at times there seems to be none left for yourself, for the sake of your kids. Be at their school activities, watch a movie with them, dine out, play with them, and the list just goes on. I think every parent here would agree with me that there is no complete guide or book on parenting.

Always strive to teach your kids what is right as what the bible says and always be on your guard because “kahit gaano mo katino palakihin ang mga anak mo, gagaguhin lang ng ibang tao” as what our resident training officer once told me when I appreciated how well mannered and behaved his teenage sons were. I tell my kids that their best friends are mommy and daddy so they can tell us everything and be themselves when we are around. And, I also I tell my 3 year old daughter not to have a boyfriend.

Parenting, I suppose, doesn’t end even if your kids got kids for themselves already. Make their childhood a happy one. The next best thing to seeing a happy child is knowing that you were the one who put that smile on that face. We just celebrated my father’s 80th birthday and all seven of us siblings were around to celebrate it. This time we were the ones who put the smile and tears on his face. Give back to your parents when you can, you will not be here if not for them.

I guess I have said my piece about being a physician, teacher and father already. But the most important thing you should remember: In everything that you do, do it for the greater honor and glory of God. At the end of the day, it will still be between you and your creator. He will be asking you about what you did about the talents and treasures He gave you, to the children he entrusted to you. Is that not scary?

To the graduating class, Congratulations and Godspeed.

To the incoming class, Welcome.

And to everybody else, Good afternoon.


.

on being a...

(coming soon)

bravo mama, bravo golf

National Artist for Literature, Dr. Edith Tiempo, gave a special lecture on poetry last Friday for the Dumaguete National Writers Workshop. At 89, she is still very sharp and able to project her voice to a roomful of people without using a microphone. Mommy Edith gave us a sample of a lighthearted and playful poem from her latest anthology which she completed last month.

"... reverberation...indigenous wit... erudite terms ... startling idea..."

The venue for that special lecture was the Bravo Golf Hotel (formerly the Bravo Golf and Country Club) in Sibulan. The hotel, restaurant and golf course are already fully operational but the grounds immediately around the hotel are still being developed. This is much like the work of the fellows, still "under constant construction, tweaking and revision."

This is one of the three swimming pools being built at the Bravo Golf Hotel in Sibulan.

Pool reflecting sky

Mommy Edith and my fave fellow, Lambert

________________

Belated Happy Birthday to my fellow sit-inner, RV! See here what a blast he had on his birthday.

student number

My UP student number was...

Asking for one's student number is tantamount to asking a woman her age which is always bleah. :-( But a doctor can often get away with asking questions that would generally be considered awkard like how many sex partners have you had? Or the precious query, did you fart today already? Like me, for example, the first things I would want to know about anybody would be age, gender, height and weight. Such simple data can give me lots of information like endotracheal tube size, rate of IV fluids, dosage of drugs, and the like. ;p

So my student number in UP was...

There are several fellows from the University of the Philippines in the Dumaguete Writers Workshop presently being held in Silliman. And in our conversations the student number always comes up. For example, my FAVORITE fellow (brilliant mind, beautiful writing), Lambert Varias, has a student number that begins with 01 indicating that he entered UP in 2001. Until now he is still a creative writing undergrad. The reason? It is one whole fun-to-read essay, an entry piece to the workshop. So the student number gives a clue as to how long a student has been in the university. They are sometimes called 'Super Seniors' or 'Magna,' as in 'Magna-nine years in college.'

My student number was...

something that I knew by heart, for three and a half years, which is the time it took me to finish BS Zoology, which is now a defunct course. Yes, even with eyes closed we knew our student numbers as it was our identity there, everywhere we went the only thing they cared about was our student numbers.

My student number is...

something that I have (partially) forgotten already! So here's a clue, to Meloinks, my co-Bisaya and co-MD blogger, I'm old enough to be your mother but young enough to ride habal-habals and go backpacking in the mountains. Can you guess my student number from this?

reading of humorous passages

We had an extraordinary evening today. The Dumaguete National Writers Workshop had a reading session of humorous passages at SU President Ben Malayang's White House.

First, my literature classmate, Bron, and I fetched Ma'am Rowena Tiempo-Torrevillas from her Mom Edith's Montemar residence in Sibulan, a house on a hill overlooking the Tanon Straight. Awesome! Both the view and our guest, Iowa based writer, Ma'am Rowena. I drove very slowly from Sibulan to Silliman so that we could savor having Ma'am Rowena exclusively to ourselves.

When we got to the SU White House, the passage reading was underway. Here's the line-up of hilarious poems read with panache by the writing fellows and the panelists as well.

"Pushing sixty and hanging on" by Jaime An Lim

"Umbrella" by Rihanna

"Bowl Limn Yeah" by Paolo Manalo

"The reader in love" by Cesar Ruiz Aquino

"Poem" by Simon Armitage

"Usa ka gabiing wa'y sud-an ug wa'y bituon" ("A night with no viand and no stars") by Adonis Durado **

"I'm glad I'm a man/ I'm glad I'm a woman" by Anonymous **

"Balaki ko, Day, samtang gasakay tag habal-habal" ("Recite me a poem, dear, while we ride this motorbike") by Adonis Durado

"Response: Bb. Pilipinas" by Janina San Miguel

"Sana" by Masculados

"Anatomy of a kiss" by Larry Henares

(** crowd favorites)

Panelists Cesar Aquino, Butch Dalisay and Rowena Torrevillas read their own poems, too.

Notice that the evening's event was carefully not called "reading of humorous poetry" because some of the pieces read would most probably not pass as poetry. All the pieces were hilarious, nonetheless, and a fun filled evening was had by all.

________________________

Here are the fellows to the 47th Dumaguete National Writers Workshop currently being held for three weeks this May in Silliman:

POETRY:

Lawrence Anthony Rivera Bernabe (UP Visayas)
Noelle Leslie G. dela Cruz (Philosophy Assoc. Professor, De La Salle University)
Ma. Celeste T. Fusilero (Ateneo de Davao)
Rodrigo Dela Peña (London PR Consultancy Creative Assoc., Dumaguete)
Arelene Jaguit Yandug (English Asst. Professor, Xavier)
Bron Joseph C. Teves (Silliman)

FICTION:

Marguerite Alcarazen de Leon (Ateneo de Manila)
Dustin Edward Celestino (UP Dilliman)
Joshua L. Lim So (De La Salle)
Liza Baccay (Speech Pathologist; contributor Cebu Daily News)
Fred Jordan Mikhail T. Carnice (Silliman)

CREATIVE NON-FICTION:

Ma. Elena L. Paulma (Xavier)
Anna Carmela P. Tolentino (De La Salle)
Lamberto M. Varias, Jr. (UP Dilliman)

As for me, I am not a fellow, just an avid listener to the discussions and dissections of the literary works of the fellows. I am way too far behind the caliber of these young people. Only in their twenties and thirties and they write so well already. I am having the time of my life though, hearing people talk pithily about the persona, paradoxes, metaphors, heightened language, multiple meanings, images, cliches, word choices, line cutting and other such exotic fare.

torture shoes

The shoes here are dedicated to Louell's CrUeLa D Vil (translation: cruel devil) and her ilk and to all our tormentors past and present...

.

Muted Cry

written in the late 1930's by Trinidad Tarrosa-Subido

I

They took away the language of my blood,
giving me one "more widely understood."

More widely understood! Now Lips can never
Never with the Soul-in-Me commune:
Moments there are I strain, but futile ever,
To flute my feelings through some native Tune...

Alas, how can I interpret my Mood?
They took away the language of my blood.

If I could speak the language of my blood
My blood would whirl up through resistless space
Swiftly - sure - flight no one can retrace,

And flung against the skyey breast of God,
Its scattered words, charged with passion rare,
With trebel glow would dim the stars now there.

II

Shakespeare, Dante, Sappho, and the rest,
They who are now poets deified,

Never their language being them denied,
Their moods could be felicitous expressed-
Crimson of joy, purple of grief,
Grey of unrest, white of relief -

Their dreams so colored, living forms they seem,
The real lent enchantment like some faery-dream.

If I could speak the language of my blood,
My feet would trace the path their feet have trod,
And stake a a niche within their lot of Fame,
Of jade-and-gold, and carve me there a name.

Ah, could I speak the language of my blood,
I, too would free the poetry in me.
And this now apathetic world would be

Awakened, startled at the silver flood
Of Song, my sould aptly expressing,
Each flood-ntoe listeners impressing.

More as the water-drop into a pearl congealed
Than as a ripple on the ocean's breast revealed.

III

These words I speak are out of pitch with Me!
That other Voice? - Cease longing to be free!

How can't thou speak who hast affinity
Only with promised-but-unflowered days,
Only with ill-conceived eternity,
Being, as they, mere space lost unto Space?

Forever shalt thou cry, a muted god:
"Could I but speak the language of my blood!"

si sonny, si auring at si sawi

Most people would like to finish college and graduate in the shortest possible time. Perhaps I belong to the weird ones who can’t seem to detach themselves from the academe. I just love going to school. (Ouch, stop throwing that…)

Consider this: after B.S. Zoology, there was M.D. and D.P.B.A., then there was B.S. Nursing and now there is M.A. Creative Writing. Do I have a hang-up about collecting so many letters after my name? I want to defensively say, definitely not. I know those are just letters and I’m a believer in the journey-destination mismatch. I love journeys. And on these numerous sojourns that I’ve embarked on, I have had the privilege of meeting a lot of (tor)mentors, three of whom will receive special mention in this post.

First, there was Mr. Sonny Daria, my biostatistics teacher in UP Diliman. I do not know where he is now but during my college days he was quite notorious in campus for being a terror teacher and there were several complaints from parents because our exams would always be overnight sessions held from 6 pm ad nauseum which meant up to 6 or 8 am the next day. He did not mind how long it took us to finish the exam as he practically lived in his office in Pavilion IV of the then AS building, anyway. The exams were always “open-notes and open-books” and of course, the answers were not in any of the books and notes that we lugged to the exam room.

Mr. Daria was a nutty-Einstein kind of professor but I looked up to him with awe and admiration, which my roommates said bordered on being a crush-ko-si-sir adulation. And why is that? It is because of the way my brain is wired. It is not programmed to understand numerical equations and formulations and the other mysteries and intricacies of mathematics. But Mr. Daria had a way of teaching, which I cannot put a finger on, that made me appreciate, and dare I say, comprehend, biostatistics. I surfed the net looking for Mr. Daria and instead found another blogger who said Sonny Daria was his favorite teacher, too! Yey!

Then after med school and residency, I went to the National Kidney and Transplant Institute for a fellowship and there met the most-feared and most-revered Dr. Aurea Ambrosio, our beloved Nanay Auring who kept us literally on our toes. We were not allowed to sit during the entire surgical procedure. Indeed there were no stools or seats allotted for the anesthesiologist/s in the OR. Oh, our poor varicose veins! We did a lot of vascular surgeries there and we would look at the vein stripping procedures as our unanimous and inevitable fate.

Being a board examiner, Dr. Ambrosio was particularly hard on us in didactics and in honing clinical skills. She told us that she was that way because someday, in case she needed anesthesia, who else would she trust but us? Not long after that pronouncement, her words came true and I remember our senior fellow, Dr. Chiqui, intubating Dr. Ambrosio. I’m not sure if he cried before, during or after the process. When Dr. Ambrosio recovered, we looked at her, at anesthesia, at learning, and at Dr. Chiqui, with new eyes.

And recently, being a member of the Silliman University Medical School faculty comes with the privilege of taking up any course in SU for free. And this is where I met the famous (or is it infamous?) Dr. Cesar Ruiz Aquino when I enrolled in a Creative Writing course. I was very excited to have this acclaimed writer as my mentor but with each meeting I was growing disenchanted because Sir Sawi’s ideas and beliefs decidedly clashed with mine. His abstract and unstructured way of thinking did not help and I would find my mind wandering off during class. Later I would come to class very late or be absent a lot.

Things came to a head during the final exams when I submitted a shamefully execrable paper which earned me a call for a meeting at his office. It was like a “please-see-the-principal” appointment which turned out to be an almost-heated exchange of disappointments and misconceptions which ended up with me saying, “Sir, if you give me an F I believe it is well deserved” to which he replied “That is the only answer that I liked in this whole conversation.” Wow. Talk about intense.

And like a good narrative, there is a denouement to this story. Today we have come to a truce. I have grown to respect his impeccable wordsmithry and accept the complicated way he thinks and (I hope) he has come to acknowledge that my interest in literature and writing is legitimate and sincere.

So, as the debatable cliché goes, the journey is more important than the destination. I do not know where all these road trips I am taking will lead. But I do know that I have met some very interesting persons, mentors, tormentors and fellow students as well, along the way.

(an)a (un)likely partnership

Kuting was a black and white little stray kitten that Carlo brought home from school. It was so young yet it did not even know how to drink milk from a saucer. She was wrapped in a yellow hand towel but I unwrapped her and placed her on the floor (she is actually standing on my planting rice cross stitch project). Maybe she felt cold after being removed from the warm folds of that hand towel that she immediately started crying in a shrill voice that was too loud for her small body. True enough, Miming, the mother cat, immediately arrived and sniffed Kuting out. Is she mine or not mine?

I was hoping Miming and Kuting would hit it off and bond like Mother and Kitten as Miming used to have three kittens but now there are only two. Tsk tsk. Alas, it was not meant to be. Carlo brought Kuting back to school where the kids played with her. Kuting, that fragile creature, was only a few days old and was not meant to be played with at all, yet.

So what happened to little Kuting? Well, let's just put it this way. If you knew what happened to Kuting, you would wish you didn't know at all.

road closed

A few weeks back, half of the road in front of our gate was closed to traffic. This afternoon, the entire road has been closed to traffic because the road builders have started to work on the other side of the road. Tsk tsk. This will mean some inconvenience as we will not be able to park inside our gate anymore. But I'm glad they've finally started this before the rainy season comes full blast. Already it has been raining almost every other day for two weeks now.

So today is May 10, let's see how long it will take before the road opens again.

the answer to the rice crisis...

Plant more rice!

Well, I wish it were as simple as this cross stitch project that I made especially for my parents, to hang in their living room. Planting rice is very special to our family because it was planting rice that sent me and my four siblings to school. All of us, in fact, have actually planted rice in rice paddies.

We used to live in a little cottage like this...



...surrounded by banana trees and rice fields. Except that our cottage was colored white with a red door. And later on the rice fields gave way to sugar cane. The banana trees still stand to this day, though, a testament to the great love affair Visayans have with bananas.

So I asked my father, who for me is an expert when it comes to farming, for he is a farmer first hand, how come there is a rice crisis today/how come we are importing rice when we are an agricultural country?

His answers were simple: 1) there are more people today and our rice production has not caught up with the demand; 2) there are intricacies inherent in rice production (water irrigation, weeding, fertilizing, pest control, harvesting, drying, milling, storing) that make the cost of production prohibitive; 3) it is actually more lucrative for planters to cultivate sugar cane farms than rice farms and 4) many farm laborers have poor work philosophies and attitudes.

There are so much more that I want to say. But it is getting late so perhaps I will continue tomorrow… or some other time… I hope it’s going to be tomorrow.

_____________________________

I forgot to get the exact dimensions of this piece, it's around 2 feet by 2.5 feet. This is one of the easiest cross stitch projects I made. It took me maybe 2-3 months to stitch. And that's because there were plenty of breaks in between stitching sessions. Maybe if I sat down to it 8 - 12 hours a day, I can probably finish one piece like this in one or two days. (Yabang)

Notice that there are a lot of white spaces. This means that even if the canvass is big, my actual work is not so intense because the images are simple in pattern and color. And also, there are actually few images to be stitched here.

to Dubai

This is an intricate Dubai quilt, a present from cousin Lorelie and her husband, Arvie.

Tita Paro and Tito Felix are flying to Manila then on to Dubai tomorrow morning. They'll be there for a spell before flying back to Dallas to babysit their little apos.

Have a good trip, 'Ta Paro and 'To Felix!

two poems

by CESAR RUIZ AQUINO

published in the May 10, 2008 issue

of the Philippine Free Press

_________________________



HAIKOLORS

I'm dreaming of a
White singkamas. I'm dreaming
Of Chocolate Hills.

I'm singing the blues.
Blue moon, blue movie. Verde
Te quiero verde.

Red I stop. Yellow
She is the River of Ten
Thousand Orange Steps.

She can turn day gray,
Night blacker. But her secret
Of secrets is pink.

.

THE CAMELEPHANT
(Reply to Voltaire)

Yes, brother,
Egyptian image
& Hindu
sage
knew
each other,
ate & slept
under
one roof.
Alas! God swept
away the proof
the moment
it existed -
the camelephant.

God was wroth
or flabbergasted
when both
wrote
for the same girl,
as if from a single
starry
eye,
the same pearl
of great price
poem, twice
born,
signed
between the lines.

The 3rd or hundredth
hierophant
before Shah Jahan
was
shall see the Taj
on fire
& hear it, heart & I

broken by her passing

pyre amid
the pyramids
on Mt. Age
under Sarah
Zipporah
north of the Unicorn

On any God-forgiven
bright night
the universe
travels
full-circle
on foot,
italics mine,
the line
is a dig at free verse
unless written
w/ constellations
at stake,
a take
on the infinite.

.

.

Sagol-sagol* - a not so merry mix-up

Yesterday, we had guests from LA and Chicago: my niece, Brisa, her mom, Millet, and their relatives who attended their cousin's wedding last Saturday. As is wont of tourists and balikbayans who come to the Philippines, they feasted on local food which is truly delicious but which can be dangerous, too.

For example, three out of the six of them who ate the oysters in Bais suffered from very bad diarrhea and vomiting last night. They're not sure though if that (the oysters) was the real culprit because they also had halo-halo with coconut meat and milk yesterday afternoon. So there was a merry mix-up of flavors and textures and ingredients and other what-nots in their gastrointestinal tracts.

My word: don't eat the oysters that are sold in the flat bottles. Best to eat the oysters direct from the shell (after it's been cooked), at least you know how clean your hands are! And don't eat the oysters on an empty stomach. I did that once and I vow never to do it again.


So how come not everyone who ate the oysters developed upset GI tracts?


I believe it's because each of us has a different gastrointestinal make-up and wiring. Some of us have "stronger stomachs," meaning our GI tracts can tolerate trauma/irritation/insults better than others. And there are some of us who have "sensitive stomachs" who succumb to even the slightest hint of impurity/pH aberration/ osmolality variation in the food or drink taken in.

So, know your GIT and when in a new place, be careful about sampling the local fare.

(*sagol-sagol is a vernacular word meaning halo-halo, not the dessert, but a literal mixture of what nots)

____________________________





Did I sound so preachy? If I did it's because the latest TBR theme is about practicing what you preach... :-)

oysters or halohalo?

We want to know.

talaba



photo courtesy of
embem30 at flickr


halohalo

photo courtesy of

Maxchicken


Yes, we want to know!

Which one of the above is more likely to cause an upset stomach?




.


.




.

[not yet finished...]

Abra academy

My pamangkins, Bhea (7), Onin (9) and Anton (10) were here playing Abra Academy this afternoon. And they were very serious about it.

Several times they would be stumped and Onin would solemnly walk up to me and say, "Tita Inday, could you please help us find the lizard?" Or the drumstick or the whatever else they couldn't find.

They rewarded me with deep awe and unanimous ahhs when I found the all important hidden items. Hehe. Felt like a hero. ;p

flores de Mayo

A. May garden blooms

B. May garden greens

C. My cross stitch floral projects!

the gate

the gazebo

roses in a vase

.

.

.

.

now i understand

Well, in part, at least.

Ever since the rice crisis hit the headlines, I was baffled why the Philippines, which is an agricultural country, could have a shortage of rice. And I was shocked to learn that our country, which is home to the world reknowned International Rice Research Institute, could be the world's number one importer of rice!

[Did not have much time to write today, so will continue tomorrow.]

Labor day

It's a holiday here, a day of rest for the weary laborer.