03.31.07
Posted in 2007 Mosaic at 3:27 pm by Miracle ♪♫
My kids have grown so much!
(My apologies if that line frightened or alarmed anyone. No, no, I certainly did not sprout off-springs unnoticed.) I am speaking concerning my students.
After hearing them today for the final polishing of April 9’s recital, a significant impression of fulfillment settled within me. I must say that the past year has been the paragon in my entire teaching experience so far. Not solely for the fact that an ADHD child has mastered a Debussy remarkably, or because a severely unassertive and shy girl accomplished the original score of The Entertainer superbly, or because another has learned to appreciate piano lessons after a season of shunning it, nor is it because one plays the Moonlight Sonata beautifully, or because one of my advanced students can still perform exquisitely despite the loss of a finger in an unfortunate accident, nor because of my little brother who has already achieved a Haydn concerto at age seven. I am assuredly not thieving my students of the credit due them, what I intend to say is that my sense of fulfillment did not altogether spring forth from what music pieces they are capable of (heaven knows there are much better teachers who produce prodigies like demisemiquavers in a row), but owing to what I have also learnt through them. I thank God for allowing them to become instruments to cultivate me as a person and as a teacher. I have grown very fond of each one of them, from my littlest pupils to the model-like ones who tower over me - but whom I still consider my babies.
It has been eleven years ago since I began teaching music. I am twenty-two now and basic math calculates that I have spent half of my life teaching! What a surprising realization that is. Within these eleven years, I have apprehended that there is no exact pattern or method of teaching a child since every one of them are distinct characters. It is the teacher’s responsibility to develop different and specific approaches for each unique child. Furthermore, I have understood that pleonastic scolding is profitless and counterproductive, that teaching should not be done for income acknowledging that teaching is not a job but a passion and dedication, that moreover, just as it is in life, I only had to love to become fulfilled.
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03.23.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 4:18 pm by Miracle ♪♫
A spectre is haunting Europe — the spectre of communism… proletarians of all countries, unite! Ooops!!! Wrong manifesto. hehehe
Here’s mine… *smiles sheepishly*
Single? In a relationship? Married? It’s complicated? Is a selection mandatory? Suddenly Friendster, and moreover, society has become status-advertent. Yet one cannot just slither away to a non-existent option, it is a social duty to make a choice.
It is rather amusing to take a cursory view of Friendster profiles and notice how easily and absurd people manage to switch or opt statuses with a simple click of the cyborg rodent. Those who have boyfriends or girlfriends declare “married” which can be tolerably sweet at times, flattering the lover and the beloved alike, but noticeably assuming enough - this is neither a compliment nor an animadversion. There are also those who are really married but still proclaim singleness - shame on you, and those who conveniently wish to be vague about their private lives claim that “it’s complicated” - I respect that. Now, I do not wish to war against anyone who decides on whatever status they are pleased with to display on their data. In cyberworld you have “freedom of click” (evidently I just made-up that term, still you have to admit there’s truth in it). However, this freedom of clicking cannot be applied in real life. Choosing, or accepting a status requires more than just a click and is exceedingly intricate.
I have been desiring to write a relationship manifesto of some sort, but this notion dawned on me last February and I certainly did not want people to reckon that I was also conforming to the season of crimson cards, paper hearts, and tinsel flatteries. Love, in all its complexity and various forms has unceasingly been at the tip of my pen, but old Mr. Hesitation kept echoing, “who are you to write of such a topic?” Subsequently, I have found the courage to charge, “who am I not to?” It does not take one to be a great writer or a philosopher to do so, it only calls for a heart - and perhaps in my case, twenty two years of never-been-kissed-ness. *grins*
Resembling notes in a chromatic passage, I begin to understand each timbre, every vibration, and musical colors as I go through Love’s grand staff…
Single
A
- Being unattached allows a person the chance to abound and gain strength as a distinct being and see circumstances lucidly without a shroud of romantic stupor veiling the eyes.
A #
- Loneliness and longing will naturally be part of the vocabulary, but contentment with one’s current state becomes a great achievement essential to love and life.
B
- One is free from a certain bondage. Life can be just as colorful and adventurous to those who are patient. Wallow not in despair. Hasting to find your “other half” might only lead you to be adhered to another half who really wasn’t meant to be your half after all.
C
- The Single tag does not necessarily label a person an incompetent of loving or being loved. Singleness should not cripple your spirit.
It’s Complicated
C #
In a Relationship
D
- Distinguish obsession from love. The desire to be physically one with another does not always mean love. Do not let your possession puff you up nor eat you away. Possessiveness and jealousy is dangerous, for this sort of love may be explosive but it will disappear as easily as a cloud of debris with nothing but ashes left for you to mourn over. Love purely.
D #
- You are blessed if you can still distinguish yourself despite being a couple, and refrain from trying to be what you are not.
E
- It is honorable if the relationship you are involved in is not a result of wicked schemes… eternal and real love cannot escalate from such.
F
- A genuine relationship should not bring about frailty or insecurity - resulting to pursuit and obsessive monitoring of your beloved and his/her former object of attention.
Married
F #
- Acknowledge the Hellenic hierarchy of love:
- Agape - Charity. Spiritual oneness. Faith. The deepest relationship. (Unfortunately not in Friendster’s list.) The greatest love there is.
- Philia - The cool and rational side of love. Fathomless friendship. Mental symbiosis.
- Storge - Affection and admiration. The warm aspect of love.
- Eros - Passion. Sexual desire. The hot facet of love. (Take note that it is last on the tabulation.)
G
- “‘Til death do us part” should be sought out with extreme consideration. It only takes a single glance to fallin love but so much more to truly stay in love. Grasp every good thing.
G #
- God is Love. Therefore He should be the axis of every relationship. 1 Corinthians 13
- Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
- And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove
mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
- And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
- Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
- Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
- Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
- Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
- Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail;
whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge,
it shall vanish away.
- For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
- But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
- When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought
as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
- For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
- And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.
.
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03.17.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 4:12 pm by Miracle ♪♫
It is common knowledge that I am barely a movie enthusiast, viewing approximately eight whole movies annually, even declaring once that writing about them in blogs have become asphyxiating. Nevertheless here I am to write about one - the aftermath of the movie I viewed last night. This certain picture has been around since 2006, but understanding how Hollywood-ily outmoded I am, I only saw the trailer the other day and immediately borrowed it from Video City yesterday.
With the fast-approaching May elections, I think it is an essential
movie especially for those who are involved in politics. It depicts how politics mutilate lives and drastically affect those who are absorbed in it. Now I am not about to give away the ending (disregarding the fact that while it seems new to me, perhaps
everyone has seen it already), I abhor it when people do that.
All the King’s Men - featuring three actors who I esteem to be among the finest today; Jude Law, Sean Penn, and Anthony Hopkins. The tale was based on Robert Penn Warren’s Pulitzer Prize-achieving novel, hence the powerful drama and literate dialogue. In my own assessment, it was abounding with Oscar factors and elements. The script was remarkable, the cinematography artful and dramatic, the music-score was not overdone, the actors were impressive, and the whole picture itself was commendably overwhelming.
It is a real shame how critics trashed this movie. The cause of the negative reviews? I have no idea. Probably bad, shallow taste… or, well, politics. The hope of this movie is its own tag line…
"Time brings all things to light."
Jude Law appearing as writer, Jack Burden.
(I still think you look like him, Franz. haha =))
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03.16.07
Posted in 2007 Mosaic at 4:48 pm by Miracle ♪♫
Pfft… pfft… pfft… (and more pffts) psssssss… duh dub, duh dub duh dub (several more duh dubs), pssss… then lo and behold! The systolic and the diastolic.
To erase all assumptions that I am also into nursing unanimous with the entire country; I say no, it’s not going to happen. Nevertheless, I’ve learnt to use the sphygmomanometer - after a few disasters of inverting the stethoscope and other things including the systolic and the diastolic.
(Toinkz! Mgka high-blood tuloy yung patient).
It was only a couple of months ago when my 92 year old grandma still sent for me while I was in the middle of practicing Bach’s Italian Concerto or some difficult passage of a piece and would ask me to check on her blood pressure. Most of the time I accomplished it with a willing heart, but I’m not going to be a hypocrite and omit the times when I felt nettled when she did that and called me in her shrill voice.
She passed away on January 17. I was holding her when it happened. She had her back pressed to my chest and I felt the very familiar duh-dub inside her. Suddenly the duh-dubs seemed to erupt into two abrupt throbs… and she was gone. On January 1, three hours after the new year loomed, she had an attack and the whole family thought her life would end there, but God’s will and her strong and fighting spirit gave her seventeen days more. Seventeen days more yet we knew her time was fast approaching. Seventeen days more and each of us in the family learnt and realized so much. Strange as it seems, but the most consoling part of her death was my being there when it happened, because I didn’t have to wonder or ask how she went, and she didn’t have to wonder or ask where I was.
I’m brought about to write this because Lola’s younger sister called for me yesterday and asked if I could also check her blood pressure… and I remembered Lola… and I missed her so much as I tearfully listened to her sister’s throbbing… Duh-dub, duh-dub, duh-dub…
Bitter-sweet and transcendental, the pulse of life.
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03.14.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 5:17 pm by Miracle ♪♫
Hey, you! Unconventional nonconformist you! Knowing how peculiar your mind works, I am almost convinced that you intentionally over-stayed in your mother’s womb for a day just for the sake of dodging the Ides of March. Well, March 16 is here again, you clever incarnate of weirdness… Happy Birthday! =)
Tada! For your special day I’ve come up with a partial list of your deviant feats;
At that time in my life when people were making me cry, you made me smile.
(Though that may seem easy and trite, it meant so much to me.)
When they presented flowers, you lavished upon me books, thoughts, and that endangered practice of conceiving poems - un-corny poems.
(I loved that.)
When most of them ceded “you’re out of my league” speeches, you refrained from saying anything and simply looked in and beyond my eyes. (That was daring.)
When some said they wanted to grow old with me forever, you declared that you wanted to live young with me forever.
(How poetic and romantic…)
When it was their turn to make me smile, you made me cry. (Dork! =P hehee Kidding!)
When they yearned to watch the moon with me, you took me there instead.
That was the best part… and all I can do is thank you for being uniquely crazy enough.
Thank you for existing…
P.S. Here’s a lovely song by Vienna Teng which she calls “Eric’s song.” I’ll just unofficially borrow it from Vienna - or Eric, and devote this song to strange darling you. I assure you, it’s way much better than the usual “Happy Birthday To You”!
Strange how you know inside me
I measure the time and I stand amazed
Strange how I know inside you
My hand is outstretched toward the damp of the haze
And of course I forgive
I’ve seen how you live
Like a phoenix you rise from the ashes
You pick up the pieces
And the ghosts in the attic
They never quite leave
And of course I forgive
You’ve seen how I live
I’ve got darkness and fears to appease
My voices and analogies
Ambitions like ribbons
Worn bright on my sleeve
Strange how we know each other
Strange how I fit into you
There’s a distance erased with the greatest of ease
Strange how you fit into me
A gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs
And with each passing day
The stories we say
Draw us tighter into our addiction
Confirm our conviction
That some kind of miracle
Passed on our heads
And how I am sure
Like never before
Of my reasons for defying reason
Embracing the seasons
We dance through the colors
Both followed and led
Strange how we fit each other
Strange how certain the journey
Time unfolds the petals for our eyes to see
Strange how this journey’s hurting
In ways we accept as part of fate’s decree
So we just hold on fast
Acknowledge the past
As lessons exquisitely crafted
Painstakingly drafted
To carve us as instruments
That play the music of life
For we don’t realize
Our faith in the prize
Unless it’s been somehow elusive
How swiftly we choose it
The sacred simplicity
Of you at my side
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03.12.07
Posted in 2007 Mosaic at 4:38 am by Miracle ♪♫
One-thirty ante meridiem. There was an impatient rhythmic vibration on my right hand. I had fallen asleep in the middle of composing a text
message when suddenly my phone became a trembling miserable gadget. Suspecting that it was just another obnoxious
prank call, my eyes remained shut as I disinterestedly felt for the answer
button.
A soft beep. Silence. Next an anonymous impassive voice spoke, “Your friend was shot.
He’s dead.” Another soft beep.
My heart halted. I
choked. Tears surged through my eyes. By
some clairvoyant perception, I instantly knew who the voice meant. I groped my way out of bed and aimlessly
through the darkness. I wailed
despairingly. I was inconsolable.
Then I woke up… still panting and sobbing distressingly. It was all a dratted nightmare, and my
endeared friend was miles away doubtlessly snoring peacefully – an all too
different kind of resting in peace. When
I had regained my calmness, I wished to call him, but decided not to bother the
dear soul for I was confident that he was well and safe, somewhere, somehow harboring his own dreams.
I haven’t had a nightmare in years! The last time was when I
was still a little girl and I envisioned that I had lost my mom. Since then
I never underestimated Mama’s value nor did I for one second take her for granted. I
am not superstitious, but these nightmares serve as mnemonics or reminders to make me fathom the worth of who I love,
the same individuals I cannot do without. Heaven knows losing my family and prized friends is one of my greatest fears.
Whether it be a lover, a friend, an acquaintance, a
grandparent, a brother, a sister, a mom, or a dad, one should not wait
for dreadful circumstances to occur before understanding the significance of a person. The wretched dream itself was unbearable, and its actuality
unthinkable, and because of that I no longer wish to make that age-old blunder of disguising how I really feel about my loved ones and holding back what aches to be said. I was the chicken who repeatedly avoided crossing the road, and for sheer chickeness I have learned that one can lose so much. It’s odd how these phantasmagorias frighten yet synchronously teach me courage.
—
When I finally narrated the dream to my friend, and of course, admitting the fear of losing him
(I was still
in an ambiguous state of mourning and extremely sober-minded), he playfully said he would bequeath all his books to
me when he died. That was cruel of him,
teasing my fragile heart. Hmpf!
I’d rather have you than your books, silly. Besides, if I really want those books badly, I
will sneak them away from you even now while you are alive. That way I’ll have the best of both worlds… (Meewa begins to fancy the Kunderas, G. G. Marquezes, Collettes, etc.)
Now it’s your turn to sob. Hee =P
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
An oil painting by Frederich Lord Leighton
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03.06.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 2:32 pm by Miracle ♪♫
Tears. You know, tears… that delicate flux of hydro-emotions. Those liquified feelings that emerge from optic crevices. Micro-oases that span a desert of flesh only to arrive at the nomad’s lips saline and futile. That mollifier of man and comrade of woman. The loveliest excrement there is. Unconfined aqueous poems.
Tears. The lone element liberated to know my eyes intimately, caress my
cheeks ardently, trace my face expertly, and kiss my lips blithely.
The most precious sparkling gems I possess. My joys and sorrows
disguised as water pearls.
Tears. So valued, Ancient Romans cherished this expressive dew in a flask. They are what Ovid believed to be weightier than words. The same matter Lord Byron found too beautiful to kiss dry. That substance Friedrich Nietzsche and Oscar Wilde claimed relative to music. Voltaire’s silent language of grief, yet a Shakespearean maiden’s best brine.
Tears. What of it? you might ask. Nothing much, really… just a current amusement.
“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears,
for they are rain upon the blinding dust of Earth,
overlaying our hard hearts.”
~ Charles Dickens ~
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03.04.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 2:11 pm by Miracle ♪♫
Portrait of a Lady
She enters a scene discreetly and summons not attention. Makeup is absent from her face, but a glow of intellect dons her whole mien. She does not swathe herself with “Dr., Atty., Hon.”, or any other fancy title, she only bears her good name in a profession all her own. Among the heart-throbs and head-turners, she would seem rather unembellished because she does not strut on a vain show like most Adamites. Yet she is often the very object of everyone’s concealed fascination or subconscious admiration. Her naive eyes and unpredictability of being evokes a nonsexual arousal that allures the most observant eye. Her smile is a remnant of childhood, and her modest brows an oxymoron of serious wit. The hands she offer are diligently rough and virgin to commercial salves, but her touch is of flowing tenderness. She walks in faith and contentedness, trampling former doubts and unrest. She carries a silent thorny rose in her heart for errors of the past.
She is unlike ordained slimes of society (girls who make men their sole obsession and bear eyes resembling neon lights that subtly glare “choose me, have me”). She is contrary to them who hanker to capture the man of their fantasies and push over innocent women on their way. She is not categorized with silly girls that are short of every decent adjective, who shame the very soul of womanhood. She does not cry “choose me”, having ample wisdom that in true love, nobody ever veritably chooses who they fall in love with. She respects man but fathoms that he is not the answer to everything, yet the sagacious love within her accomplishes her beauty. Time cannot shrivel her nor tradition spoil such a soul sui generis.
She is my portrait of a lady… and she deserves to claim, “I am Woman”.
~~~
“Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain;
but a woman that feareth the Lord,
she shall be praised.”
Proverbs 31:30
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03.03.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 2:51 pm by Miracle ♪♫
To man - whether you have my affections or not. This is what I know of you. You are generally the peril of a woman’s life, deftly locating the heart’s clumsy district. You whisper - nay, you do not shout but you whisper and tumble the very walls of Jericho inside us, that woman may raise a white banner and yield. Then you refashion the walls with your own strength, that we, dependent on you will embrace the wondrous peril that you are.
When these acts are done deliberately, it is typical. It is common, even almost customary. It could very well be a trifle romantic, but verily, it is not always love.
Dear man, I will kudize you if you can call forth the same persuasion in your most unconscious state. Otherwise, to you I will forever remain a vague melancholy…
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