I was not originally tagged to do it (I guess my friend Salve is tired of tagging me because I seldom do what I’ve been tagged to do, and on the only one occasion that I did a tag I even changed the rule and failed to tag someone else (rolling eye emoticon here). But, in fairness to ME, that was back when I still did not know I could get out of this little blog of mine and become friends with other bloggers (yeah, I was THAT slow). I thought, "who should I tag? I don't know of anyone who would play along!"
I guess I've changed because now, I can think of more than 10 friends who I can tag. I just don't know the rule as to how many I could tag, so I simply named two friends at the end.
Anyway, as I was saying, I wasn't asked to do this. I just stumbled upon it in one of Salve's friends' blog, which is also now my friend (yeah, I'm a friend grabber, hehehe). I loved the game so much, that I hinted at my new-found friend, Sonnet, that I want to do it. Mercifully, she got the not-so-subtle hint and she tagged me. (Wink emoticon here)
So here I am, doing a tagging game even if I was not asked, bullied, coerced, or forced to do it. But of course, like I usually do, I again broke some rules. But don't worry. I’ve been breaking some little rules for as long as I remember, and this one wouldn’t cause my banning in the blogosphere. I hope. (Another wink emoticon here.)
Here’s the rule: Answer the questions with song titles (your fave songs or songs that you like to play most of the time). No side comments please. Let the song titles explain your answer.
[The rule I broke: Not all the songs listed here my favorites. I researched some! Hehe! ]
1. How am I feeling today? Bluer than Blue by Regine Velasquez
2. Where/when will I get married? Quando, Quando, Quando by Engelbert Humperdinck
3. What is my best friend’s theme song? Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong and Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson
4. What is/was highschool like? Sana Maulit Muli by Regine Velasquez
5. What is the best thing about me? Honesty by Billy Joel
6. How is today going to be? Waiting by Mariah Carey
7. What is in store for this weekend? There’s a Kind of Hush by Karen Carpenter
8. What song describes my parents? Endless Love by Lionel Richie
9. How is my life going? Constant Change by Jose Mari Chan
10. What song will they play at my funeral? As I Lay Me Down To Sleep by Sophie B. Hawkins
11. How does the world see me? A Ray of Sunshine by George Michael
12. What do my friends really think of me? Wind Beneath my Wings by Bette Midler
13. Do people secretly lust after me? Maybe by Sheryn Regis
14. How can I make myself happy? The Voice Within by Christina Aguilera
15. What should I do with my life? Follow you Dream by Sheryn Regis
16. Will I ever have children? Little Girl by Christina Aguilera
17. What is some good advice? Tell Him by Celine Dion and Barbra Streisand
18. What does everyone else think of my current life? Isn’t it a Wonder? by Boyzone
19. What type of men/women do you like? Honesty by Billy Joel
20. Will you get married? I Do by 98 Degrees
21. Where will you live? The Town I Love so Well by Ronan Keating
22. What will your dying words be? Lift up your Hands to God by Gary Valenciano
Ok. I’m tagging Tam because she might think it’s fun and Salve because I know she's gonna do it! Hehehehehe!
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Check out my other blogs:
Brainteaser
Photo.Graphic Thoughts
Taeng ni Ayat
From a distance, Dream watched Man staring out his tiny window, a glass of liquor in his hand. Man was gazing unseeingly at the clouds almost completely concealing the rising moon, sadness hugging him tightly. The soft breeze was sighing, and the crickets were eerily quiet.
Dream’s heart went out to Man, despite himself. After all, they used to be inseparable, the best of friends. A tear threatened to fall down Dream’s cheeks, which he was quick to control. He was surprised to find that it was such an effort to fight off his tears.
“Ah, my friend,” Dream whispered through the air. “It saddens me to see that the bright light you once had has considerably dimmed. I would so much want to comfort you, if I could. But I need comforting, too. Because like you, I am also feeling wretched, for I failed to become what destiny designed me to be.”
Dream paused, feeling silly. He knew Man couldn’t hear him. But then, he thought he saw Man look in his direction, but maybe he didn’t.
After some time, Dream continued with his anguished whispering.
“I feel bad that you failed, because your failure is mine, too. But what can I do? I did everything to steer you in the right direction. I made myself your inspiration, your driving force. I always accompanied you in your youth; I used to sit by your side as you planned your moves back when you still thought that the future looked so bright. Wasn’t I the one who kept whispering in your ears to keep going whenever you were down? I held the torch for you every time you walked along dark alleys.
“We were such a team. We could have reached very far. Yes, I had no doubt about that, especially when you cloaked me with hope and armed yourself with potential. I thought we would soon take off. And I believe we would have made it, if only you didn’t back out at the last minute; if only you didn’t chain yourself and me to your fears.
“You should have let me spread my wings across the vast sky because I was meant to fly, to soar. I was meant to grow up and transform into reality. But you didn’t let me. Instead, you un-winged me. Look at me, look at me. Look and see how shattered I’ve become, with my wings now broken and useless." Then, losing his control, Dream let out his anguish, as rivers upon rivers of tears flowed down his cheeks.
In his tiny window, Man was pitying and cursing the weakling that he was, as sighs capped his frustration, and alcohol was drowning his mind.
Outside, there was still an eerie stillness. The wind was refusing to move, and the leaves were afraid to stir. The crickets had gone to sleep. The moon was still hidden behind the dark clouds, afraid to shine.
Then there was lightning, followed by a loud thunder. But Man was already too drunk to notice. He didn't know it was Dream howling.
[seb/20 June, 2008; 10:46pm]
After Picasso head, Mandy has again discovered another thing that is sure to be a hit in the blogosphere. It’s called bomomo.
Like Mr. Picasso Head, this also lets non-artists to unleash their hidden creativity using lines and colors. Now, folks who cannot even differentiate an oil painting from a watercolor, like me, can become “painters” in the almost-real sense of the word.
I am very excited about this ‘discovery’ because I see a vast potential in it. I can now ‘paint’ images for my poems. You see, there are times when I wish I have pictures that go well 
with my poems. I do have good pictures, and I use them. But there are just some poems that cannot be accompanied just by any picture. I think, this interactive site solves my problem. I can just make abstract ‘paintings’ and presto! My layout is already perfect.
And what’s more, it’s also fun. I’ve tried it and I couldn’t stop. Hah! I suggest you try it. Better yet, do it with your kids. I’m sure they’ll love it!
What are you waiting for? Click HERE and begin unleashing your pent-up creativity!
Have fun...
[PS: The pictures here are my very first abstract ‘paintings.’ Don’t ask me what they mean, though. ;-) ]
Again, you are welcome to post your creations here. (Please do!)Just use the code below. 
Simply upload your creations, then copy the URL. Using the code above, put the URL of your painting at the URL section (red font) and type in the words you want to appear in your link at the green part of the code.
Long time ago, when we were little kids, Bannawag was a mainstay at home. Dad used to buy Bannawag every week. He would read it first, followed by Mom. Then they would bring the magazine to Abinganan, and Amang would read it, then Inang, then aunts and uncles. It would be after all the elders had read it from cover to cover did it land on our hands.
But the Bannawag fever suddenly stopped sometime when we were already in college. In my case, it’s not because I lost interest in the magazine. The primary reason had been money. I was part-scholar, part self-supporting student; I didn’t have extra for luxury. And Bannawag then definitely fell under that category.
Then, when I graduated in college and found work and could already afford to buy copies of the magazine every week, it was hard to find stores that sold it. It was only late last year that a bookstore near my place started carrying Bannawag. But only lately did I start buying copies of the magazine almost regularly.
But now, I know I will be buying every week. I can no longer miss an issue. Nor do I want to. There are two things in the magazine that rekindled my love for it: Cles Rambaud’s Ti Bassit a Kumpay ni Patay and Jovi Amorin’s Bonete ti Kaibaan. These two are my and my Dungngo’s favorites.
The truth is, Bannawag played a big role why it had been easy for me and my Dungngo to quit iluko.com blogs. It became one of our latest pastimes. We now have a ritual, which is way more fulfilling for both of us. Every afternoon, I would read to him stories from the magaizne. Our favorite, of course, is Ti Bonete ti Kaibaan, but I also read to him short stories. At the end of every story, we would discuss the plot, whether we like it or not, whether we think it’s good or not, and so on. I also read to him poems and other stuff. In fact, I’ve been offering to read to him Harry Potter, but it may take a while before I’d convince him. Hehehee
Back to Bannawag. I wish you’ve seen the smile on my brothers’ faces when they saw Ti Bassit a Kumpay ni Patay. You see, it was our favorite when we were young. In fact, my brother, Mans, is now planning to subscribe to Bannawag. He was just too excited about Manong Cles’ latest komiks, not only because it had been among his favorites, but also because it’s drawn by Jun Lofamia, his favorite cartoonist. As a kid, he idolized Lofamia. I had thought that now that he is older and already an architect, he would no longer think that high about Lofamia’s art, but I was pleasantly surprised to find he still thinks he’s the best. “Just look at the facial expression of the characters in his drawings,” he would tell me. “Nabnabiag!”
Nabnabiag. I guess the same could be said about Bannawag, especially now that it’s got double great reads.
What do you think?
There is some craze in my ‘little’ community in the bloggosphere about the interactive site, Mr. Picasso Head, where anyone, with or without any artistic inclination, can ‘draw’ his or his friends’ heads with easy-to-use tools.
When it was first posted by Mandy, everyone, me included, had lots of fun doing it. It became an instant craze. But I guess it was another blogger-friend, Michelle, who got the worst Picasso-head bug. She actually drew each of her blogger-friends! And oh, boy! She is so talented that most of her drawings are recognizable!
Michelle also ‘drew’ me and I love her Picasso version of me very much. I think she was looking at my avatar through eyes that highlight what’s beautiful in everyone when she was making my Picasso head (or perhaps all the time), that’s why I came out looking very beautiful in her drawing. I haven’t looked that beautiful in a long while. ;-)
Here is Michelle’s drawing of me:
Cool, isn’t it?
Come on folks, try it too and have loads of fun. It’s something you can do to pass the time, or to have fun with your little kids and even with friends and loved ones who are kids at heart!
And oh, do show me your drawings by giving the links at the comment section. Please....
I love his drawings so much. ;-) Now, I understand why he had been pestering me to wear ponytails this afternoon, hehehe! .
Ever thought why contentment seems to elude man? When we get that which we’ve always wanted, we are happy and seemingly content for a while. But soon, we will find ourselves wanting something else. Our needs, our wants, just keep coming. We are never content.
I am sure you’ve heard that to live life to the fullest, we should concentrate only on the essentials. But how do we know which of the things we have, or want, are essential, and which aren’t, when we tend to measure life by the non-essentials that we have?
The following article which was sent to me via email this morning illustrates this point very well.
It's been a while since I posted a puzzle. So I thought of re-posting this puzzle I made for my other blog. I hope you like it.
HERE WE GO:
I am looking for a two-word phrase that consists of eleven letters (first word, five letters; second word, six letters). What is this phrase?
Step 1: Finding the letters:
1. The 19th letter of the English alphabet = __
2. The 4th letter in the first name of the current USA president = __
3. The first vowel of the four-letter word that completes this expression: _____ of passage = __
4. The last letter of the word that completes this biblical phrase: Alpha and ______ =
5. The first letter of the word that refers to singers, painters, writers, and sculptors = __
6. The first letter of the five-letter word that means iconic image or symbol = __
7. The letter that is common to the first, sixth, and eleventh months of the year = __
8. The chemical symbol of the number five element in the periodic table = __
9. The first letter in the six-letter English word that contains no vowel = __
10. The most used vowel in English = __
11. First letter in the title of the Shakespearian play whose main characters are Katherine, Bianca and Petrucio = __
The eleven letters are: ______________________.
Congratulations. You are done with the first step. Now, onto the second.
Step 2: Word Play/Arranging the Letters
First clue: From the eleven-letter, two-word phrase I am looking for, the following words can be formed:
Would you dare destroy such splendor of Mother Nature?
Photo taken at Abinganan, Bambang, Nueva Vizcaya
As a Novo Vizcayano, I may already be a bit too late in speaking up about the mining issue in our province. This is because I don’t know much about the technicalities involved, and I'd rather keep quiet than speak up about something I do not wholly understand. But I have been following the developments of the mining project, and I am not very happy with how things are turning out.
As a backgrounder, our inconspicuous province has been thrown into the limelight during the past few months because of the Kasibu residents’ continuous resistance against Oceana Gold, the Australian firm who has out-bidded other mining companies to mine Dipidio, Kasibu, Nueva Vizcaya for gold and copper. The Dipidio project is a 320 million US dollar project, and is described by Oceana CEO Steve Orr as "one of the highest grade gold-copper porphyries in the world today,” according to a news report by Yahoo News Asia. Kasibu is located east of Bambang (my hometown), and about 200 kilometers north of Metro Manila.
The Philippine government has given the Australian group the go signal to proceed with the project, but the local government and the Kasibu residents are still barricading the site for different reasons. The local government wants to collect taxes, whereas the residents do not want the work to ever proceed, not only because they will be displaced, but more so because they fear that the project would destroy the province’s natural resources.
I am not one who cares much about gold; I do care more about the preservation of our natural resources. So personally, I do not want the work to proceed.
Many of you may not agree with me, but that’s how I feel about the issue. Nueva Vizcaya is not much of a tourist spot because it’s not well-promoted, but it boasts of a beautiful landscape that only the hand of nature could paint. A land-locked province, it boasts of clear springs, green surroundings, winding rivers, mountains and hills and valleys, rice fields and a cave system. It is the place a weary soul would want to go home to, to get in touched with nature, and to be closer to God.
It is the place I go home to.
No, I would not want to exchange the beauty of my hometown to any amount of gold.
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Deeply confused and utterly sad, Truth decided to consult with the Lord.
“Lord," he said in a barely audible voice. "I am confused. You said that I am beautiful, but why is it that when I present myself to people, they would not look at me directly, and would rather look the other way? You said I am good, but why can’t I help hurting people? You said that Deceit is evil, but why is he capable of making people feel better, even if there are times he hurt them as well? You said Deceit is ugly, but why do people stare at him with so much awe?”
The Lord smiled sympathetically. He walked over to Truth, and held him by his shoulders. “My child," He said softly, looking deeply into Truth's troubled eyes. "Do not despair. You are beautiful and pure. You shine so brightly, people cannot bear to look at you directly. They either put a veil over their eyes to see you, or use a mirror to get a glimpse of you, not realizing that though these instruments aid them, they blur you, hence they don’t see you in your full splendor.
“You are good; you do not really hurt people, you just crush their egos. Indeed, Deceit is ugly, but don’t forget that he is a master of disguise. He can change his black cloak into a rainbow, so that those who have not seen your grandeur are amazed at how lovely he seems, and they stare at him with great admiration.
“He is evil, because by not showing his real self to people, he dims you. But do not fret, my child. There are those who are brave enough who choose to look at you directly, without any veil, without the need for mirrors. They see you, and they love you. And to them, your beauty is beyond compare." The Lord patted Truth in the back. "Go forth my child, for you are loved.”
Feeling better, Truth thanked the Lord then walked happily back to his world, where he shone and shone brightly, giving light to the whole world. He’s still there, standing magnificently for all of us to see. Sometimes we see him, sometimes we don’t.
Often, we profess our love for him. But... do we really?
//Sherma E. Benosa
19 May 2008; 11:40am
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There is a hymn inside my heart that begs to be sung,
Waiting for my wobbly fingers to strum
The strings of my soul’s discordant melody.
But my lips refuse to sing the notes
That would pull my soul out of the void;
For though it badly needs to hear the music
It fears the thundering boom of the drums.
So I sit around, hoping for someone to play a song
All the while knowing it’s got to be me;
I wait here, daydreaming for a concerto
All the while knowing my ears have become deaf
To the music of the life around me.
Tell me, how can I sing my heart’s tune
Without first fixing the pitch of my thoughts?
I’ve forgotten my lines, I can’t relate to the melody;
Sing to me, sing to me so that I may remember
That there is a hymn that begs to be sung within me.
//Sherma E. Benosa
18 May 2008; 5:46pm
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It's been a while since I last posted an Ilokano (my mother tongue) piece here. Allow me please.
Makasiram ti apuy a sumgiab iti kaunggan ni ngata-ngata
Ket puoranna ti simbeng ti panagdaliasat ti agduadua a kararua
Dagiti agkatangkatang a dapan nga inulila ti nailibay a darepdep
Nga indaramudom ti kasipngetan, inadipen nagkaadu a derrep.
‘Di madaeran kuyep a mata ti makipinnerreng iti masakbayan
A tagtagibien aliaw impasngay kalman a di man la nagbalasang
Iduduayyan’ pilay nga agdama a nagpanawan narasi a namnama
Ilallallay saning-i ti dung-aw dagiti umar-arubayan nga aligaga.
Madaeranto ngata ti kired ni Elpis ti bang-i ti espiritu ni Moros
A nangkaras ubbog ni talinaay, nangruros sabong ti kurkuros
Idinto nga agsung-aben dagiti kalman a ramut a baglan ni puot
A dalanen koma dagiti sagibsib ngem inalun-on metten ni pungtot?
Uray la agallangogan dagiti sennay ti nakas-ang a pannakapaay
Ngem saan met a sumngaw dagiti boses ti kuliapis nga ay-ay.
Check out other version HERE. Or, read my other ATTEMPTS at poetry HERE.
//Sherma E. Benosa
09 May 2008; 10:15pm
Dreams. They are the fruits we envision the plants we sow would bear. But many of us dream without planting a seed. Some of us do, but we fail to water our plants, to fertilize them. So our plants die. And when they do, we wonder what happened to them, to our dreams. We blame everything. We blame the sun, we blame the rains, we blame the insects, yet we forget to blame ourselves.
//Sherma E. Benosa
09 May 2008; 10:10am
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ANNOUNCEMENT: I have opened a photo-blog over at wordpress.com. Unlike my other blogs, this latest baby of mine contains photos. BUt unlike ordinary photo-blogs, the photos posted here contain my thoughts and reflections. Check it out: PhotoGraphic Thoughts.
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I was having lunch today when someone just dropped off his things (a bagful of sugar) near the door of the diner where I was eating, then went back out to the street, about five meters away from where he left his things, and talked animatedly to someone. I’m a regular at this diner, and I haven’t seen him before, so for some reason, a troubling thought hit me: “what if his stuff contained a bomb?”
The logical part of me thought it couldn’t be, because it just isn’t normal for a criminal to stay close to the bomb when he has every opportunity to leave. But then the other part of me pointed out that there are a lot of suicide bombers, and he could be one. There were other arguments that volleyed back and forth in my mind, that soon I saw blood — my blood — splattered everywhere, my body parts flying as far as the other side of the road, my face unrecognizable. Before that I heard a big explosion followed by loud screams, then I saw blackness, and then there was nothing.
I couldn’t say know how much time had elapsed before I started hearing voices, at first indistinct, until slowly I was able to understand some words.
“Did you see her? She was just here before the bomb went off!”
“Really?”
“Yeah, she was eating alone. And now, she’s nothing. Just a finger left!”
“Ow, poor girl!”
At first I did not understand what they were talking about, until I realized what it was. They were talking about me!
Abruptly I stopped eating and handed the server a hundred-peso bill.
“Oh, you’re done? You almost had not touched your food! Didn’t you like it?” The elderly woman who had become a friend of sort, asked as she reached for the bill.
“It’s fine, Manang. I’m just full.” I replied.
“Okay,” she said and walked back in to get some change. As I was waiting for her, the man came back for his things. Without a word, he picked them up then walked off. I started to relax. But it was too late. My imagination had gone too far, and my appetite had been lost.
Ah, darn imagination! Damn dark thoughts!
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When we give our souls some wings, they will surely soar, up above the clouds, to the stars, to the heavens, and to dimensions beyond the reach of time. My soul is here, with me, yet it is really gone. It's somewhere beyond the depths of the deepest sea, above the highest mountain, in a plane indefinable by me.
//Sherma E. Benosa
08 May 2008; 2:25pm
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There’s something that’s gravely ailing the world today. And it’s not global warming. It’s our hearts turning cold and unfeeling.
The culprits probably thought it was a good joke, so they took video footage of it and uploaded it in the internet. After all, it’s not often that one would “be lucky” enough to witness an operation to get a perfume canister out of a poor fellow’s anus. But right now, I can hear the “lucky” fellows’ jeers turned into sobs, and see their jeering faces ‘sorrily’ contorted as they scamper away for cover.
I am talking about the scandal at a Visayan hospital where a team of doctors and nurses and (a) nursing student(s) took photo and video footages of an operation done on a male patient who had a perfume canister stuck on his anus during a sexual act. The video footage was then said to be uploaded in youtube for all the world to see (the video has since been removed from the file sharing site after the scandal broke out). But according to bloggers who have seen the video and to some news report, the video showed several people in the operating room jeering as the perfume canister was being removed, making disrespectful comments, calling the canister “baby,” and spraying perfume after the canister was removed. All these while the patient was lying helpless and unconscious.
Before this offensive event, I was of the opinion that there are two kinds of fun: clean and dirty. But apparently I’m wrong. There’s a third one: sick.
I think it’s sick that some people could get a kick from other people’s grave embarrassment. I think it’s sick that some people could actually laugh at other people’s pain. I think it’s sick that the people we turn to for help would extend their right hand to assist us, only to stab us with their left. I think it’s sick that professionals would act in an unprofessional way in times of crisis. I think it’s sick that we would choose to add insult to the injury when we could opt to ease the pain. Ah, yes, the world we live in can sometimes be so sick. (Or shall I say, we can sometimes be so sick.)
Condemn him not
It’s true, it’s unhealthy to use sex toys during sexual intercourse; but if others decide to use them, to engage in different kind of sex, who are we to condemn them? It is their business as it is their lives. It is not for us to judge them. But reading some blog posts, I realized that some folks put the blame on the poor victim, their reasoning being, “things would not have happened if he did not engage in “abnormal” sexual behavior, if he weren’t gay.
That got me a little lost, because the issue, in my humble opinion, is not the victim’s sexual preference, nor is it his sexual behavior. The issue is that the medical professionals involved violated his rights as a patient, as a person.
He went to the doctors to seek help, but what did he get? Sure, the doctors relieved him of the proof of his physical ‘rape,’ but they raped his soul in return, inflicting upon him a kind of pain that no medicine could relieve nor cure; no expert could surgically remove.
And then, as he prepares to seek justice, someone from the Catholic Church comes forward to condemn him. That, I think, is hypocricy to the highest level. The last thing the victim needs and deserves is for us to be moralistic about it, to play self-righteous and pass judgment upon him. His rights, his person had been gravely violated, and the least thing we can do is to help him stand as he struggles to carry the cross that was suddenly put on his shoulders, and not to whip his back as the Judeans would.
Going back to the basics
I will no longer talk about malpractice, about how legally liable the people involved in the scandal are. News reports and many blog posts about the issue have tackled them. I’d rather focus on the basics of human relationships.
The culprits did not just break the code of their professions’ ethics; they broke the very basic code of social ethics: RESPECT. One need not have a medical degree to know if what he or she is about to do is right or wrong. I do not see any excuse why the people involved in the scandal could not have realized that jeering at their patient and taking footages of the operation and then uploading them in the internet was a grave violation. All they needed to have done was put themselves in the patient’s shoe and they would have known what was proper and what was not.
As a proverb, the commandment, “Do not do unto others what you do not want others do unto you” is now trite. And as a code of conduct, it is very basic. But somehow, it is sorely ‘underpracticed.’ To think that practicing it could reduce a lot of wrongs. Ah, humans…
Justice
It would be a long, unpaved road, I know. But I guess the only way the victim would heal is by getting the justice that he deserves. I think he must walk the long and hard road to justice, not just to right what is wrong, but also to set example to other offenders and victims.
I would not be sorry to see the licenses of those involved in the scandal revoked, for though it’s true that we have a dearth of healthcare professionals in the country, we are not so desperate so as to allow these vacancies be filled by abusive folks who might just put our medical system in (more) jeopardy.
Because if justice in this case is not achieved, it will surely hurt our bid for a slice in the medical tourism, for we will not just become known as the country where horrible things such as this could happen, but a country that tolerated such things. God forbid!
Some relevant thoughts
As an ex-medical journalist, I’ve written and read a lot of medical articles, a good number of them dealt with male sexual dysfunction.
According to the literature I’ve read, and to some of the doctors I’ve interviewed, many forms of sexual dysfunction can be treated and managed if only the sufferers would seek treatment. But very few men would actually dare talk to their doctors about their problems. It is hypothesized that it may be a natural tendency for the male to never admit to his sexual incapacities because his sexuality is him, to admit sexual problem is to admit to the world that he is less of a person.
In a way, that hypothesis might be right. But I think that there is also another thing that keeps the male population from talking to their doctors about their sexual problems: the fear, rightly or wrongly, that their doctor might jeer at them at their back. I think — or shall I say, I used to think — that that is very remote, given that doctors have heard a lot of stories about this problem, as sexual dysfunction is becoming very common, especially among the elderly.
But now I am thinking that maybe it’s not so remote after all.
//Sherma E. Benosa
27 April 2008; 10:50pm
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Finally, I was able to attend a GUMIL Convention (GUMIL means Gunglo Dagiti Mannurat nga Ilokano or Association of Ilokano Writers).
I’ve always wanted to attend a convention of the said organization, but it’s only now that I finally managed to. Though I was able to get a peek of the three-day 36th GUMIL Convention in 2004 when I accompanied Dad to the location, I did not register at the time because I couldn’t get a vacation from work. And now, after all these years, I finally did it. (That’s one of the pluses of being a freelance writer; I can always declare a vacation whenever I want to.) What’s more, even Mom joined Dad and me, and that made things even better.
I did not get a lot of photos though, because I was not feeling well at the time. I regret not having lots of pictures now, especially when I realized I had very little pictures of the event. Sayang really. But never mind. Let me just share the pictures that I have.
Opportunity and Humanity faced each other at the Chieftain Hall. This was to resolve Humanity’s complaint against Opportunity. Humanity claimed that Opportunity was not doing his job, which was to regularly present himself to Humanity and his people, and give them all the chances in life that they deserved.
After proper introductions were made, the chieftain asked the gentlemen to take a seat. Humanity took the chair on the left of the chieftain’s desk; Opportunity took the one on the right. When both gentlemen were seated, the chieftain asked Humanity to speak to formally lodge his complaint.
“Well, Sir,” Humanity looked at the chieftain, then glanced at Opportunity. “Mr. Opportunity here has not been doing his job. My people and I have been encountering all sorts of troubles because of him. His negligence has been hindering us from realizing our full potentials. We’ve been complaining about this for a long time, and we had been reduced to repeatedly begging him to come to us, but he just wouldn’t.”
The chieftain nodded his understanding of Humanity’s predicament. He signaled Opportunity to defend himself.
Opportunity cleared his throat. “I am sorry that Mr. Humanity and his people have been encountering problems, Mr. Chieftain, but I beg to disagree that it is because of my failure to perform my duty. The truth is that I keep knocking at their door but they don’t always open their doors for me. There are times that they would, but they often hesitate to let me in. It takes them a long time to decide whether or not to invite me, that by the time they’d made up their mind, it’s time for me to leave for someone else’s house. So…”
“But how do we know it’s indeed you who’s on the door?” Humanity interjected. “You show up looking differently each time. You just love disguises. How can we be sure it’s indeed you and not a prankster who’s at our door, when many times you’d come in the company of those shady creatures, Deception and Betrayal?”
Opportunity calmly replied, “There are no disguises, Mr. Humanity. I always come to you looking the same way I always do. And I don’t come with Deception and Betrayal. You always see them whenever you open your door because they live in your neighborhood. And knowing that they always spell trouble, I try not to stop them from accompanying me to your house, as long as they don’t hurt me, or interfere with me. It’s your family members Fear and Distrust that often lodge themselves between you and me, so that you won’t see me clearly.”
Humanity looked blankly at Opportunity, not having a ready and acceptable retort. He was afraid of incriminating members of his family if he’d speak further. The truth is that he would always ask Fear and Distrust to accompany him whenever he would open his door, fearing that Deception and Betrayal would hurt him if they’d see that he was alone and vulnerable.
Having heard both sides, the chieftain instructed Humanity to resolve the matter within his household, especially the problem with Fear and Distrust. He concluded that only when this matter is resolved will they see more of Opportunity. Until then, they will always have a hard time recognizing Opportunity when he knocks on their door, and continue not being able to seize the chances that Opportunity always brings.
Apparently, the matter with Fear and Distrust was a deep-rooted problem with Humanity and his people. They always felt vulnerable without Fear and Distrust by their side, that to this day, his people still keep blaming Opportunity for their circumstances, claiming that he wasn’t doing his job, when the truth is that they just fail to see Opportunity when he shows up, or, if they do, Fear and Distrust would stop them from seizing the chances Opportunity was giving them.
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Inspired by a piece I wrote in 2005, entitled Knocking on Your Door. Click here to read it. This is my take on the question on whether or not there are not many opportunities around.
This morning, I have written a children’s story based from this story. I hope it will be good enough for publication in a children’s book. I’m crossing my fingers! :-)
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//Sherma E. Benosa
11 February 2008
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One of the remarkable things that happened this month is that I’ve said a lot of hellos and goodbyes to OFW friends.
The hellos started with the arrival of Manang Imee, a dear friend from Iluko.com, who arrived on March 6, and whom I got to finally embrace the following day. Manang Imee, who lives in Germany, is here for her regular vacation.
Then, on the 8th, a dear friend arrived from Japan. Celestine, who has been a college classmate, is a scholar by the Japanese embassy, and is the first Filipina to be accepted to the Nagoya University College of Letters as an MA student. She is here for a 20-day vacation before she would embark on her chosen journey.
Truly, welcoming home good friends is a very happy affair.
But as it always happens, when there are a lot of laughter and merrymakings, there will also be tears and sorrows.
On the 18th of the month, another dear friend, Jing, who married her Canadian boyfriend last year, flew to Canada to join her husband. We planned a get-together before her departure, but her schedule the days before her flight had been so hectic; she left without us seeing each other.
On the 27th, another friend, Chie, Jing’s sister, will be leaving for Qatar to work there as marketing assistant. I am seeing her tomorrow, and hopefully, on the day before her flight.
There are other goodbyes I will have to endure this month, and in early April. Celestine and Manang Imee will soon be leaving for their host countries. And my brother Ogie, who is often sent by his company to other countries, will also be leaving for the West perhaps this month, or maybe next.
Ahhhh… if there is one thing that doesn’t appeal to me about this OFW phenomenon is saying goodbye to family and friends. I am a grown up, but still, I feel saddened by these separations. I wonder how much harder it must be for children who are left behind by their parents, or spouses who will have to temporarily live separately.
When last month, I tried to visualize how this month would turn out, I had envisioned lots of sunshine. It was, and still is, such a surprise for me to realize that there would be lots of scattered rainfall in the country just as summer should be starting. In the same way that it is such a surprise that I should find myself feeling melancholic when I should be out there basking under the sun.
I wish I could see the good in goodbyes…
Focusing on the positive side of things (i.e., hope for better future) and accepting facts of life (i.e. these things really do happen) can ease the pain of separation. But still, I miss my friends, and tonight, I am allowing myself to feel melancholic about their leaving. I am writing this piece to heal myself of my pain, and to let my friends know how much I miss their physical presence.
There are a few good things in some goodbyes, and I am endeavoring to put my emotions in balance, so that I may see that the goodbyes in these cases are the downpour that precedes the appearance of the rainbow.
//Sherma E. Benosa
21 March 2008; 11:57pm
La Madre Filipina (A statue at the Luneta Park)
We are not just black or white; often, we are shades of gray. We cannot not just be one thing or the other. Often, we are both.
Dynamic, evolving… that’s what we humans are. Never static, never the same. Like clouds, we continually move across the continuum that is our life.
Definitely, we are not just a single snapshot. Not even a series of snapshots. But most people think we are. How many times have we heard the comment, “You’ve changed!” with a tinge of surprise as if we were supposed to stay the same forever?
Indeed, it would be great if we were gifted with the ability to see each of us as we really are; to understand our depths, to appreciate both what is inside and outside of each of us.
But humans have limitations. They only see what they want to see. Sometimes, they just see the good. At other times, only the bad. Often, they do not see both. And, on rare occasions that they do, they find it hard to understand the tangled dichotomies that make up each person.
Humans are multi-faceted, multi-dimensional, but with very limited view of the things around them. Often, they do not see the whole picture, and cannot dig deep to fathom what’s inside other people. They see only what they want to see, or what they think they are seeing. Unfortunately, too, they are quick to make conclusions based solely on their perceptions, which are very limited to begin with. So they see others as all-beautiful or all-good, then be shocked to find later on that the others too have weaknesses of their own. The reverse is also true. Sometimes, people are sure that one is bad through and through, not knowing that that person is simply misunderstood.
If only everyone could look at a single thing and be able to look at it in its entirety and view it from every angle possible, then what a better existence we would have. And if only we try to understand every aspect of a thing first, before we make conclusions, then how much easier life on earth would be.
“Rolling stones catch no moss,” my father always reminds me every time I tell him of my plans to resign from my current job for another.
Dad always supports my decision, but as a father, he feels compelled to remind me of the things I might be forgetting. Often, we would discuss the pros and cons of my plans and end up agreeing. But not before we tease each other at length. The last time we talked about my resigning from my job in 2004, he again quoted that cliché he loves drumming into my head. That time, I answered, “at least they can go somewhere probably better.” Dad simply laughed, and called me “pilosopo nga ubing.”
But now I wonder what Dad would have said had I answered, “Dad, what made you think I’d like to collect mosses?” I guess the discussion would have been much longer.
Mosses for me are a sign of stagnation, of being in one place too long that one accumulated only the things that came one’s way. If I were a stone, I think I would want to be moss-free, to be rolling whenever I feel like it. I see myself as very rough at the start but would become smoother and smoother as I roll along unpaved highways and swim with or against the flow of life’s rivers.
The smoothing process would surely hurt. Like a clay pot that must be spun to be shaped and burnt to become strong, the stone that is me would also be thrust into necessary frictions until I become smooth enough in the eyes of The One shaping me.
Right now, I am still rolling this way and that. And as I do, I hope that the frictions of my experience will help me become a better person. For if not to become better, to be polished and molded into the shape He had in mind for me, what on Earth am I here for?
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I look forward to hearing Dad defend his moss-covered stone. I wonder what meaning he would ascribe to the moss. Hmmm…
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//Sherma E. Benosa
12 December 2007; 11:58pm
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