Over a New Earth

(my journal entry dated March 4, 2012, a Sunday)

I had a very nice dream last night. It was strangely beautiful. I was on a new Earth. No, it’s not like it’s paradise. It’s still Earth. But in that Earth, we could travel intergalactically. And when we flew, we didn’t travel by way of the northern hemisphere, everyone had to fly south in order to travel to another planet or another galaxy.

The Earth was now mostly water. But whatever’s left of the land masses were verdant and conducive to comfortable existence. In the Southern hemisphere, on which side there was now an ocean of the cleanest, clearest water, was an island (I thought it was just a small island) on which stood a very big tree. But that tree didn’t look like a real tree. It’s more like a crystal tree, and its branches seemed to function as some kind of antenna for sending and receiving messages from all over the universe. I think it was also some kind of space port for space travellers.

The island seemed to be the planet’s main source of power—pretty much like a cell’s mitochondria. It was a sunny place, but the weather was very mild (but then it’s dreamland; in dreamland, there’s no such thing as temperature, is there?).

I don’t know how my dream began. It’s rather vague. It’s not clear if I was flying and then landed on a well-kept grass-covered lawn or what. There was some kind of garden party going on. I saw a couple of friends. And then I had to leave with some of them.

I just found us riding some kind of flying “pod,” and it’s very strange because in previous flying dreams, I was afraid of heights, but in this one, it felt so natural. We were flying over the ocean of the purest blue, and the water was so clear, you could see the ocean floor from up the sky.

We were making our way toward the island with the big tree in the middle of the ocean. It was like we’re on a special mission. But before we got to the island, we had to be deployed from the pod and land on the water while still strapped to our individual seats. I felt like I was a newbie and we had a leader guiding us. It seemed we had to make that stop because there were some arrangements that needed to be made (provisions for supplies?).

When we dropped in the water, I initially had difficulty adjusting my seat afloat on the water, but then I eventually got the hang of it.

There were creatures in the water, a group of them. We landed among them. We were told that they’re harmless, that they wouldn’t hurt us. They looked like crocodiles with the skin of sea lions, yet swim about like sea turtles because of their roundish bodies. They had small reptilian heads, and on average, one was about the size of a big wash tub.

True enough, they got into contact with us, but they did not harm us. And that was it. That’s when I woke up....

The Hotness/Coolness of Life

(excerpt from my journal entry dated January 19, 2012, a Thursday)

I think I had just about four hours of sleep last night. Sa natatandaan ko kagabi, the clock struck 4 a.m. bago ako tuluyang nakatulog. Tapos gumising ako ngayong 8 a.m.

Pero okay lang kasi I don’t feel sleepy. Kelangan lang siguro na hindi na muna ako magbasa ng libro o ng kahit na anong babasahin para hindi ako antukin. Napapagod kasi agad mata ko e. I need to be alert and awake sa drive ko sa Ortigas.

Naisip ko, is there a way para mapalakas ang mata? As in, lumakas ang resistensya ng mata? Ah yeah…naalala ko ulit yung Tiger Eyes na exercise sa Tai chi. I must remember to do that.

Malamig pa rin ang panahon. Okay lang naman kasi hindi naman uncomfortable yung lamig. Tama lang.

Sa Amerika daw, obserbasyon ng mga tao, mas maikli ang winter season at mas mahahaba yung iba. I remember sabi sa “Jewel in the Palace,” mas maganda daw na sobrang lamig ang winter (hindi lang ako sigurado kung sinabi din dun na mas okay din na mas mahaba ang winter). Kasi, kung hindi daw gaano malamig ang winter, mas madami daw ang sakit na kumakalat sa panahon ng tag-init. Or something to that effect.

In a way, it’s like we’re bound or highly affected by temperature in this life. This physical body is subject to it.

Sa Judeo-Christian tradition, hell is one very hot place. Sa mga Muslim naman, hell is one very cold place. I don’t know which is correct or whether I should concern myself with it. Sa alam ko, spiritual bliss is not affected by temperature (or any other physicality, for that matter).

I mean, sabi ko nga dati, you can’t really go to a very nice place and call it “heaven” when you know for a fact that you will be worrying later how much money it would cost you. Or if you’re suffering from arthritis or rayuma or any other debilitating(?) weakness that affects your physical sensation. Angganda nga ng lugar. Sarap sana mag-trekking. Kaya lang, ansakit naman ng tuhod mo. Nasan ang “heaven” dun?

Real Heaven/Paradise has got to be in the spiritual realm! Where no one goes hungry or gets sick, or at least feels hot or cold beyond comfort.

Siguro what happens after we die is that all our thoughts, all our sensations get confined or reduced to a very manageable level. Kaya basta patay ka na, kahit chop-chopin pa ang katawan mo, ok lang siguro. Hindi mo na naman siguro mararamdaman yun. (Although, of course, I could be wrong—ahehe).

Now, if you’re condemned to hell, well, you get to retain the physical sensations—temperature, pain, emotional suffering—and it’s either these are magnified many times over, or the horrors of hell are simply just staggering compared to those in this life. I don’t know…

Sa art, may ganun din—hot and cool colors. But honestly, I don’t concern myself with that pagdating sa pagpe-painting ko. Mas namu-move pa ako sa “temperature” at “colors” na napo-produce ng music. But then, all these are memory-hinged, I’d like to maintain that. Medyo steeped sa memory or cultural conditioning na lang siguro kapag nagre-react tayo ng “Wow, that’s hot!” or “Cool!”

Naalala ko yung pelikulang “Back to the Future.” Sabi ng character ni Michael J. Fox na si Marty Mcfly (in reaction to Doc Brown), “That’s heavy!” Ibig sabihin, “nice” or “awesome.” Tapos sumagot si Doc Brown ng, “What’s the matter with gravity in the future? Everything’s gone heavy.” Or something to that effect.

I wonder if in the future, our descendants would study us and comprehend what we meant when we said, “That’s hot!” or “That’s cool!” or “You’re so baaaaad!” or “You’re so wicked!” Or yung mga kolehiyala pag sinabi nilang “Ansama mo!” pero nakangiti sila, tapos kukurutin ka nila sa pisngi kasi nanggigigil sila sa ka-kyutan mo, hayup ka! Ahehe.

And if there comes a time in the future when cities and communities would be living under glass globes and everything—temperature, the seasons, the brightness of the sun or the dark of night, the amount of rain or snow, all these things—would be regulated, I wonder, whoever’s in charge of regulating them—how would he/she/they go about it? Based din sa memory nila? Or based sa mga scientific studies on the Goldilock’s effect—not too hot, not too cold, nor too detrimental nor comforting so as to spoil the persistence of the species, etc. Hmm…..

The Emperor's New Mug

(written at 9:53 p.m. on May 16, 2012, a Wednesday)

And so there I was. At Finds Department Store here in Las Piñas, looking for a replacement for my coffee mug. Of all the things that I’d break, it had to be my coffee mug. And what timing! It had to happen the night before I declared on my Facebook wall that I am “not inclined to buying China-made products at this time…blah-blah-blah.”

I was about almost elated that the ceramic mugs on display cost only P25-P45. But then I saw the brand on one mug: “Dragon something-something.” In Chinese dragon characters. And then I remembered my self-mandate (no to China-made products at this time), and so I suspiciously inspected the mugs on display before me.

There was no indicator saying that the mugs were made in China. But I didn’t want to take any chances. So I opted for the more “Western” looking mugs. There was a “Dear God” mug. A Zodiac sign mug. Mugs with girly names (e.g. “Jeanette”). They were packaged in cardboard boxes with Western-looking designs. So I picked up one and opened up the package, and on the mug’s bottom, there it was in small bold black letters: “Made in China”.

And then I remembered those toys that come with McDonald’s Happy Meals. Mickey Mouse. Tarzan. Toy Story. All made in China. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAW!  <----- canned insane sarcastic laughter.

I inspected all the other mugs I could find at that department store. Not all of them indicated it, but my instinct was telling me, 99.99% of them are from China. Joyce Fler Reyes’ comment on my Facebook wall was nagging at me: everything’s made in China. That can’t be true, I was telling myself like mad. This is absurd!

What to do now? Go to SM? They’d all be made in China there. Even at Uniwide. And then I thought why not Puregold?

Puregold, so I was told, used to be a PX goods store established after the Americans left the military base in Pampanga in the early 1990s. Maybe they have mugs there. Made in America, at least. Ahehe. So I decided to check out the Puregold outlet near RFC Mall.

But before I could make it to Puregold, I decided to check out RFC first. At the second floor, there was this tiangge-like area where kitchen and bathroom wares are on display. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I got there too late, they were already closing up.

So I wandered about the floor and then I chanced upon the mall’s Filipiniana section. Hmm… I thought there must be something in there I could use in place of my coffee mug. At least I’m sure they’re all made in the Philippines.

I inspected the goods. Most are made of wood. There were handwoven wall displays, carabao wood carvings, miniature ships enclosed in clear glass bottles, penis ashtrays, barrel men, barrel women (yes, there ARE barrel women), and then…aha! There’s my mug! I immediately picked one up, paid for it, and went home with a satisfied smile on my face.

All the while, though, I was thinking: How much of our daily lives is actually made in China? What about those made somewhere else? And what of Philippine-made products?

I take comfort in the thought that perhaps it still lies in the context of how we use them. Perhaps I’m just talking economics here, and that business people ARE business people, regardless of their nationality.

Okay, so maybe it’s a sad thing that in my puny way, I’m trying to get back at a giant bully, only to realize that for the longest time, the bully had already been punching me in the face: whenever I drank from China-made ceramic mugs and ate from China-made ceramic plates or listened to music on China-made plastic headsets.

But one thing I do am proud of right now is that I AM STANDING UP TO A BULLY NONETHELESS.

I am still not buying China-made products at this time. As much as I can help it. As long as that bully (and by “bully,” I mean the Chinese government, not China) doesn’t realize the follies of its claims.

As for the mug I just bought, I’m still not sure if I’m going to use it. It smells of varnish and I’m not sure if it’s safe to drink from it. In the meantime, I’ll use any other drinking glass I can find around the house. And if you’re thinking, what if the drinking glass you use is also made in China? Well, at least I didn’t buy it around this time.

Besides, I have Chinese blood in me, too: either ¼ or 1/8. Also, I was once told that in a past life, I may have been a Chinese emperor. Chinese emperors drinking from China-made drinking glasses are not that far off. Wink, wink.

By the way, here’s my new mug. Say hi!

Humanitarian Considerations

(excerpt from my journal entry dated February 1, 2012, a Wednesday)

Last night, we had to go to the Barangay Hall to settle a dispute with one of our tenants. Manang and family owe us nine months(!) in unpaid rent.

Last November, they promised us that they’d move out by January 15. It was okay with us if they won’t be able to settle the rent, as long as they’d take care of the bills and move out as they promised.

But when January 15 came, they asked us again for another extension (until January 31) since they hadn’t yet found a place to move to. We gave in, holding them to their word.

But then, January 31 came and there was still no sign of them going. My sister (who is supposed to move into the unit they’d vacate) was fuming and was badgering them already last night. Finally, she called me, and as I also didn’t want to give in to their pakiusap anymore, I told them as calmly and firmly as I could that we cannot help them anymore.

Their family has had problems recently, their father was hospitalized. But the circumstances surrounding this are just so...absurd. Their father has been hospitalized many times already on account of his drinking, and he has cost his family so much already. But now that he’s out of the hospital, he’s into drinking again, and his children complain to us that hard as they try, they couldn’t persuade their father otherwise.

I was thinking, what did they expect us to do about it? I can’t see them as a “charity case” (like this other tenant who is already four months delayed with her rent but we can see is really trying her best to update her payments). We would have gladly been more lenient toward them if they’re really trying their best, but as we can see, they don’t seem to try. When their father was hospitalized, we even lowered their rent, from P4,500 down to P3,000, yet they don’t seem to have no intention of paying their rent at all.

They argued that if we threw them out, they’d really have nowhere else to go but the streets. What have they been doing all this time that we gave them to look? They said they couldn’t afford most of them. But they said that they found this place that will be vacated this Sunday, so they’re asking us for another extension up till then.

Thinking that we have no other recourse but to give in (for humanitarian considerations), we said we’d give in (yet again). But this time, we would have to formalize it with Barangay officials so that we’d have official witness—yep, that’s why they’re called barangay “officials.”

It was funny because when they heard the word “Barangay,” they got so afraid, they shuddered. No kidding! It was like mentioning a holy word to the devil or something. Not that they’re evil, of course. Ahehe. Para kasing primal fear e. Parang pusang takot mabuhusan ng tubig. Ewan.

So that’s what we did last night. When we got to the Barangay hall, there were no more arguments whatsoever. We just told the presiding officer what we agreed on, and that we’d like the Barangay to formalize it. And that’s it.

I think it was a much better way of settling it. Kasi, if we insisted that they move out last night, the Barangay would have to side with them (for humanitarian considerations, yet again), and make us give them at least a month to find a place to move to. Kung sakali, isang buwan na naman silang libre.

Well, that’s that. February’s here. When my sister moves to the unit, I will be converting her room into an office. It’s the more quiet part of the house and I’m excited. But then I’d have to wait a few more days. For humanitarian considerations. Yet again.

Manufacturing Jackasses

(with excerpt from my journal entry dated March 8, 2012, a Thursday)

I almost forgot there was this idea that came to me last night that has got something to do with the “batang hamog” or street urchins on EDSA victimizing vehicles that ply the route. They [allegedly] throw stones at passing vehicles, steal from unlocked cars, etc.

Just a few days ago, they made the news. Several of them were [allegedly] throwing stones at a passing bus and it broke the bus’ windshield. The bus driver and conductor gave chase and caught two of them, and it so happened that a TV news crew was in the area and captured the incident on video.

So enraged were the bus driver and conductor that the children were beaten up. Not relentlessly, though. The children were resisting arrest and were even trying to escape (which one of them did manage), and so the driver and conductor had no second thoughts about beating them up—or so it was alleged. [Man, being politically correct does render modern-day literature dull and…never mind.]

And so, the incident made it to the evening news on national television, and then the next day, the Commission on Human Rights entered the picture and it has now filed charges of human rights violation against the bus driver and conductor.

Now, it was found out that one of the street urchins had been arrested several times already for such crimes, and all that was done with him was to make him undergo rehab with—I forget…the DSWD?—for a certain period of time.

It seems the laws in place that deal with minors involved in such cases are ineffective. I don’t know exactly what they do to rehabilitate minors who engage in criminal activities, but it seems our young criminals (or at least some of them) have grown smart enough to just go through the process and then go back to their old ways. Over and over again—it’s almost laughable, if not just pathetic.

And the parents of these children do not seem to be the least bit worried about the consequences of this kind of upbringing. “Our children are minors. They are protected by law, and we know it. Be afraid. The law is on our side.”

Yesterday, a mother brought her son (yet another street urchin) to the Commission on Human Rights to file charges against an adult who dealt with her son in a manner that allegedly violated the child’s human rights. I joked about it to Kuya Jing, telling him that perhaps it is the parents who should be punished for their children’s crimes. Incidentally, Aesop had the same thought, too, ages ago.* But he was unheeded.

My take on this is that in defining human rights, we should expound on them in such a way that includes the responsibilities that come with these rights. While they are basic, in many ways, our human rights are also a privilege. And nowhere else should this be held more true than in an oppressive society: When parents themselves don’t know any better, or don’t have enough means to sustain a family; or when there is a lack of political will among our politicians in enforcing the laws.

When you let your children run wild on the streets to fend for themselves, or when you let them stay up late (because you yourself like to stay up late), or when you let them smoke and drink (because you yourself are a heavy smoker and drinker and you are helpless about it), or when you make them watch junk TV (so that they won’t bother you while you make chismis with your neighbors), wouldn’t that be a human rights violation, too?

In the news last night, another street urchin was caught on CCTV, also on EDSA, being chased after by a taxi driver, who, according to reports, was victimized by the boy. In what way the driver was victimized, it was not specified. The boy got away. He climbed up a wire fence that serves as MRT enclosure, and within its protection, the boy started throwing stones at the taxi driver who, by then, had given up the chase and was seen walking back to his taxi.

It was an apt picture of how glaringly misconstrued human rights enforcement is in our society.  The wire fence that “protected” the boy from the taxi driver DID NOT really protect anyone. It did not protect the taxi driver, and neither did it protect the boy from being the jackass that he is bound to be when he grows up.

Sabi nga ni Uncle Ben (of Spiderman fame), with certain powers come great responsibility. In the same way, our rights also come with certain responsibilities. But if you cannot face up to these responsibilities, the tendency is for you to abuse your rights and privileges.

Now, if that be the case, WHAT WILL PROTECT YOU FROM YOURSELF? WHAT WILL PROTECT THOSE CHILDREN FROM THEMSELVES?

Ano pa, e di yung mga robot dun sa pelikulang “I, Robot.” Yun nga lang, in order to protect you from yourself, those robots will have to deprive you of most of your rights. Ahehe. Asa? Hehehe.

*Aesop's Fables: "The Young Thief and His Mother" (illustrated by Harrison Weir, 1867)