Friday, November 29, 2013
Poker
by Robert Alvarez
One of my favourite past times is playing poker. It’s one of the ways I bond with my high school friends after not seeing them for a while. There is a misconception that poker is a game of skill, but that’s untrue. You could play the percentages all you want, but that would only get you so far. There is a human element that you simply cannot remove from the game, the need to read your opponent. Like in life, you can start out with the worst hand and still win it all.
The analogy I’m trying to make here is that of objectivism, and subjectivism. As in poker, there is a need for a middle ground in everyday life. The computations and theories (the sciences) in poker are not meant to be gospel, but a guide, the sciences are not an end in themselves. People in the Ateneo have a tendency to be bookish, exposed to so many theories and utopian ideas. There are times when these intelligent people are duped, robbed, or scammed by people schooled in life, and not in a classroom. This is because there’s also a need for street smarts, that’s something you can’t simply gleam from your text books or journals. Coming from a prestigious school like the Ateneo, we are prone to fall into the trap that we’re better (in terms of skill) than everyone else. This belief often ends with disappointment when you apply for a job and don’t get the position, or the salary you want. When Dr. Garcia started the semester he said that we’ve been asking the wrong question all along, maybe it is in this way that we’ve been seeking the wrong kind of knowledge.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
A Great Opportunity
by Wys So
In fact, I don’t like reading books at all. Not just dislike, but I hate reading books. I have been used to watching television shows, movies, sometimes newspapers, but rarely books. I always have this conception in my mind that reading books is a tedious thing to do. At that time I firmly believe that books are dead, while movies are not. The characters in the films can move, they can express their thoughts and feelings directly to us. But for the books we still have to search for the meaning of difficult words, and analyze the text carefully, which is such a hassle task to do compare to watching films. As a result, I don’t buy books; I buy DVDs.
It may sound astonishing that the first English book I’ve finished reading completely is “The Catcher in The Rye”, a major requirement in my high school 3rd year English class, and my first Filipino book is “El Filibusterismo” (I didn’t even finish the latter part of “Noli Me Tangere”). And thus here comes my problems in college: Readings and readings everywhere. During my first year in college I was so depressed reading those articles and searching for the words. The readings are traumatizing my life. They didn’t even do me any favors in my life, maybe just my grades. No matter how fascinating and touching the article is, I will sooner or later forget about it anyway. Reading for me is about understanding and applying what the texts want to convey to us. And that’s all.
So I am really glad when I realized from our class that reading is such a great opportunity for us to improve our life and being. What I didn’t figure out before is that lies beyond the texts are infinitely many possibilities that can lead us to concrete action, that will bring us nearer to the “true life” we desire. Books actually show us modes of being in this world (outside of our own world), and how limited our thinking and knowledge are. Each of them gives us a chance to reflect upon our present state of living, thus give us a room for improvement. I also realized that merely understanding the texts is not enough for them to affect you, we must reflect upon the texts, think critically, and be open to them, for them to change, renew, and make an impact on our life --- In short, for them to recreate us.
Arthur Rimbaud, his poetry, and his life make me learned that poetry is indeed an amazing thing. It is a way for people to express their existence through their languages. It’s like philosophy in a sense that it leads us to the answer of our fundamental questions.
Sadly, I still haven’t read a book that really strikes me. But I think the articles that I’ve read in this philosophy class do somehow make impacts on me, and have changed my perceptions on many things.
In fact, I don’t like reading books at all. Not just dislike, but I hate reading books. I have been used to watching television shows, movies, sometimes newspapers, but rarely books. I always have this conception in my mind that reading books is a tedious thing to do. At that time I firmly believe that books are dead, while movies are not. The characters in the films can move, they can express their thoughts and feelings directly to us. But for the books we still have to search for the meaning of difficult words, and analyze the text carefully, which is such a hassle task to do compare to watching films. As a result, I don’t buy books; I buy DVDs.
It may sound astonishing that the first English book I’ve finished reading completely is “The Catcher in The Rye”, a major requirement in my high school 3rd year English class, and my first Filipino book is “El Filibusterismo” (I didn’t even finish the latter part of “Noli Me Tangere”). And thus here comes my problems in college: Readings and readings everywhere. During my first year in college I was so depressed reading those articles and searching for the words. The readings are traumatizing my life. They didn’t even do me any favors in my life, maybe just my grades. No matter how fascinating and touching the article is, I will sooner or later forget about it anyway. Reading for me is about understanding and applying what the texts want to convey to us. And that’s all.
So I am really glad when I realized from our class that reading is such a great opportunity for us to improve our life and being. What I didn’t figure out before is that lies beyond the texts are infinitely many possibilities that can lead us to concrete action, that will bring us nearer to the “true life” we desire. Books actually show us modes of being in this world (outside of our own world), and how limited our thinking and knowledge are. Each of them gives us a chance to reflect upon our present state of living, thus give us a room for improvement. I also realized that merely understanding the texts is not enough for them to affect you, we must reflect upon the texts, think critically, and be open to them, for them to change, renew, and make an impact on our life --- In short, for them to recreate us.
Arthur Rimbaud, his poetry, and his life make me learned that poetry is indeed an amazing thing. It is a way for people to express their existence through their languages. It’s like philosophy in a sense that it leads us to the answer of our fundamental questions.
Sadly, I still haven’t read a book that really strikes me. But I think the articles that I’ve read in this philosophy class do somehow make impacts on me, and have changed my perceptions on many things.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Philosophy and Poetry
by Patrick Cruz
I really like writing Filipino poems, ranging from topics like science and technology up to various social and economic issues. For me, poetry is a medium for interaction with other people. Though indirectly, it helps me to express myself to other people and to communicate with them. But more than just a medium, poetry has actually occupied a special place in my heart. The way it uses well-selected words to evoke certain emotions or ideas is very appealing to me. The profound meaning that poetry unravels little by little, without totally revealing it to the reader, allows me to consistently strive to understand it more.
The statement “True life is elsewhere, but we are in this world” mentioned in our class is indeed poetic, at least for me. There are three observations that I want to make regarding the statement and these are the following:
(1) There is a restriction made through but though the first part is asserted, the second part gives a particular condition. Nevertheless, the two statements are not actually opposing each other.
(2) is and are, both in present tense, are used. Interestingly, these two might have been used in two completely different sense. While is is used to denote a general truth or fact, are is used to denote the present.
(3) elsewhere refers to another place in a non-isolating sense. However, in this world is immediately followed up to give more concrete boundaries.
With all the following observations, the statement “True life is elsewhere, but we are in this world” can be interpreted as that the first part allows us to explore possibilities, but the second part limits these possibilities that we have. The first part makes us realize that indeed it’s true—that life gives us a lot of opportunities with what we do. It does not only give us the capacity to be, but also the capacity to hope, to dream and to go beyond our being. And that can be understood only completely by looking deeper at the second part. This latter part clarifies that the opportunities must always be grounded with the present- that hope, for example, must be taken in the context of the desperate and the needy, that dream must be for every single person, etc. but nothing of otherworldliness. This statement, therefore, decentralizes every being from himself and includes any other being to himself.
In this sense, true life will only be realized as we extend our own boundaries to embrace more and more people, as we strive to be better not only for ourselves but also for other people and as we let ourselves be reflective more of who we want to be rather than who we are. This point is the same point that Levinas is trying to make when he says “What I must do for the other?” and the Bible repeatedly emphasizes with “Go and do likewise.”
I really like writing Filipino poems, ranging from topics like science and technology up to various social and economic issues. For me, poetry is a medium for interaction with other people. Though indirectly, it helps me to express myself to other people and to communicate with them. But more than just a medium, poetry has actually occupied a special place in my heart. The way it uses well-selected words to evoke certain emotions or ideas is very appealing to me. The profound meaning that poetry unravels little by little, without totally revealing it to the reader, allows me to consistently strive to understand it more.
The statement “True life is elsewhere, but we are in this world” mentioned in our class is indeed poetic, at least for me. There are three observations that I want to make regarding the statement and these are the following:
(1) There is a restriction made through but though the first part is asserted, the second part gives a particular condition. Nevertheless, the two statements are not actually opposing each other.
(2) is and are, both in present tense, are used. Interestingly, these two might have been used in two completely different sense. While is is used to denote a general truth or fact, are is used to denote the present.
(3) elsewhere refers to another place in a non-isolating sense. However, in this world is immediately followed up to give more concrete boundaries.
With all the following observations, the statement “True life is elsewhere, but we are in this world” can be interpreted as that the first part allows us to explore possibilities, but the second part limits these possibilities that we have. The first part makes us realize that indeed it’s true—that life gives us a lot of opportunities with what we do. It does not only give us the capacity to be, but also the capacity to hope, to dream and to go beyond our being. And that can be understood only completely by looking deeper at the second part. This latter part clarifies that the opportunities must always be grounded with the present- that hope, for example, must be taken in the context of the desperate and the needy, that dream must be for every single person, etc. but nothing of otherworldliness. This statement, therefore, decentralizes every being from himself and includes any other being to himself.
In this sense, true life will only be realized as we extend our own boundaries to embrace more and more people, as we strive to be better not only for ourselves but also for other people and as we let ourselves be reflective more of who we want to be rather than who we are. This point is the same point that Levinas is trying to make when he says “What I must do for the other?” and the Bible repeatedly emphasizes with “Go and do likewise.”
Saturday, November 23, 2013
On Books
by Kat Altomonte
I like pink, unicorns, sparkles, and (loooove omg) One Direction. Taylor Swift is my hero and I cried when I wasn’t able to watch the Biebs’ concert in Manila. I’m a fangirly girly girl and everyone knows it. What people don’t know and don’t often ask about me is that I spend a whole lot of my time reading sci-fi and fantasy books and getting a stuffy nose from the allergies I get from flipping through old pages.
It’s crazy how one book can reveal a whole other world to you! One of the most brilliant and hilarious books I have ever read was The Hogfather written by Terry Pratchett. I reread it every year before Christmas – it’s that good! The book contains subplots that lead up to one big story on the Hogfather’s (similar to Santa) disappearance and Susan, Death’s granddaughter, trying to find him.
The text of the book is a powerful experience. The first read will have you confused with a normal premise that twists into action you wouldn’t expect. It reveals how limited your world and your thinking is and pushes you to engage in the text to build a framework for growth. The text gives you so much mystery and excitement that your mind becomes more receptive to new ideas and more possibilities. It gives you an opportunity to maximize your creativity in looking for and finding answers to the questions we have about our own lived experiences. The text is very engaging, funny, and will open you to be insightful. It celebrates the innovation and creativity behind the human mind.
Death: YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.
Susan: "So we can believe the big ones?"
Death: YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.
Susan: "They're not the same at all!"
Death: YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THENSHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.
Susan: "Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"
Death: MY POINT EXACTLY.”
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
My Neighbor?
by Renee Arabia
What does it mean to be a neighbor? Who is my neighbor?
Reflecting upon the parable of the good Samaritan, I have come to realize what it truly means to be “neighborly.” That one person you did not expect to reach out actually did, and the people you did expect did not do anything. It doesn’t matter where you stand in society or who you are. What matters is the fact that you went out of your way to just help out without expecting anything in return. Come to think of it, this reading from Ricouer could not have come at a better time.
Typhoon Yolanda was a category five storm, and is one of the strongest storms recorded, and has proved to be devastating. The funny thing about wide-scale tragedies in the Philippines is how it can bring out both the best and worst in everybody. Pictures of relief goods slapped with stickers from a certain politician circulated the internet. Journalists were put on the spotlight for reporting the harsh realities on site, and some were questioned for sugarcoating. It’s amazing how many people have turned their acts of charity into their very own press conference or publicity gimmick. But what’s more amazing are the people who have given their all because of the simple reason that they just wanted to help.
During my experience at the relief operations in campus, I’ve seen such people. 24 hours of packing, running back and forth, and keeping their energy up just to carry on. They gave, and even when literally everything started to hurt, they didn’t stop. These people don’t know who their family packs will go to, some don’t even personally know anyone directly affected by the typhoon. They didn’t care either if these people will ever know how they stayed up all night for the packs. Now that is what I’d call a true neighbor.
True, being a neighbor should be 24/7 and not just when disaster strikes, but I think these calamities can serve as wake-up calls. If we can display this much strength at such a time, then imagine how much we can give in less chaos if only we kept that neighborly spirit constant? I guess now is also a good time to remember that we are Ateneans and we are always called to be men and women for others.
What does it mean to be a neighbor? Who is my neighbor?
Reflecting upon the parable of the good Samaritan, I have come to realize what it truly means to be “neighborly.” That one person you did not expect to reach out actually did, and the people you did expect did not do anything. It doesn’t matter where you stand in society or who you are. What matters is the fact that you went out of your way to just help out without expecting anything in return. Come to think of it, this reading from Ricouer could not have come at a better time.
Typhoon Yolanda was a category five storm, and is one of the strongest storms recorded, and has proved to be devastating. The funny thing about wide-scale tragedies in the Philippines is how it can bring out both the best and worst in everybody. Pictures of relief goods slapped with stickers from a certain politician circulated the internet. Journalists were put on the spotlight for reporting the harsh realities on site, and some were questioned for sugarcoating. It’s amazing how many people have turned their acts of charity into their very own press conference or publicity gimmick. But what’s more amazing are the people who have given their all because of the simple reason that they just wanted to help.
During my experience at the relief operations in campus, I’ve seen such people. 24 hours of packing, running back and forth, and keeping their energy up just to carry on. They gave, and even when literally everything started to hurt, they didn’t stop. These people don’t know who their family packs will go to, some don’t even personally know anyone directly affected by the typhoon. They didn’t care either if these people will ever know how they stayed up all night for the packs. Now that is what I’d call a true neighbor.
True, being a neighbor should be 24/7 and not just when disaster strikes, but I think these calamities can serve as wake-up calls. If we can display this much strength at such a time, then imagine how much we can give in less chaos if only we kept that neighborly spirit constant? I guess now is also a good time to remember that we are Ateneans and we are always called to be men and women for others.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
True Charity
by Se Yoon
The lecture we had in class today was about what true charity is all about. This topic is very relevant to us, given the recent typhoon that struck the Philippines. The effect of the typhoon was devastating. So many people have lost their homes, belongings, and their loved ones. The people of affected areas are in dire need of help and this is the perfect time that calls for an act of charity.
But then I began to wonder, I know it is natural that people are volunteering themselves in various relief operations and are donating money, food, and clothing, but why don’t they continue it during the times without typhoon or other calamities? It seems that the acts of charity are born out of necessity only. If we are to follow the spirit of true charity, shouldn’t our actions continue even after the calamities have passed?
What I am trying to point out is that there are people out there who need a helping hand even when there are no calamities. There are people who live in poverty and every single day for them is a struggle for survival. I am not saying that we should volunteer ourselves for 365days, but we can dedicate ourselves to help these people other than the times of calamities. Instead of going abroad during our vacation, we can volunteer ourselves to help these people. I think sacrificing our vacation and helping the poor shows what true charity means.
I am not saying that the charity works being done during calamities are hypocritical charity. I am pretty sure people are extending their hands because they truly care for their fellow countrymen. But then if we are capable of helping in times of calamities, then we are also capable of helping in times of peace also. Don’t stop your charity works just because the situation has been calmed down, continue your works and push it even further. I think this is the perfect time to show themagisquality of Ateneans and also what true charity means.
The lecture we had in class today was about what true charity is all about. This topic is very relevant to us, given the recent typhoon that struck the Philippines. The effect of the typhoon was devastating. So many people have lost their homes, belongings, and their loved ones. The people of affected areas are in dire need of help and this is the perfect time that calls for an act of charity.
But then I began to wonder, I know it is natural that people are volunteering themselves in various relief operations and are donating money, food, and clothing, but why don’t they continue it during the times without typhoon or other calamities? It seems that the acts of charity are born out of necessity only. If we are to follow the spirit of true charity, shouldn’t our actions continue even after the calamities have passed?
What I am trying to point out is that there are people out there who need a helping hand even when there are no calamities. There are people who live in poverty and every single day for them is a struggle for survival. I am not saying that we should volunteer ourselves for 365days, but we can dedicate ourselves to help these people other than the times of calamities. Instead of going abroad during our vacation, we can volunteer ourselves to help these people. I think sacrificing our vacation and helping the poor shows what true charity means.
I am not saying that the charity works being done during calamities are hypocritical charity. I am pretty sure people are extending their hands because they truly care for their fellow countrymen. But then if we are capable of helping in times of calamities, then we are also capable of helping in times of peace also. Don’t stop your charity works just because the situation has been calmed down, continue your works and push it even further. I think this is the perfect time to show themagisquality of Ateneans and also what true charity means.
Charity
by Inah Robles
Paul Ricoeur reminds us of what charity is truly about. It's the act of being selfless, giving without expecting anything in return, and it's the genuine desire to help those in need. However, Yolanda and the events which have transpired made me realize that it is difficult to be charitable-in it's truest sense in our society for three main reasons.
The first reason, is many have conflated the idea of charity and self-gratification. They want to help, because they want to show others they are "helpful", they are "kind" hence the abundance of selfies captured in relief centers. This is dangerous because we must remember that charity is not about yourself, but it's about others. You do not help the poor because it makes YOU feel good, but rather you help them because you know that as human beings, they deserve more. Making them tools for our happiness is no better than treating them as second class citizens, you rob them of their own dignity.
Secondly, we have simplified the idea of charity. Many think that just because you share, you are automatically charitable. The common excuse i hear is "at least I gave something". This mindset is upsetting because charity isn't giving for the sake of giving. The intentions behind the action must be considered as well, it is about genuinely wanting to help out. When one gives for the sake, it becomes tokenistic. Though it may help others, it surely does not depict what charity really is.
More than that, this mindset of "at least i helped" makes it harder to help those in need. It allows people to feel complacent, instead of aiming to do more, many become content with the little they can give--even when they can achieve and contribute so much more.
Lastly, even in the best case scenario where someone is charitable by Ricoeur's definition; it is very hard to practice it. With the skepticism surrounding NGO's and government agencies it makes it difficult for people to donate their hard earned money knowing that there is a great propensity for corruption to be present.
It is sad that the Philippines has come to this. Despite these problems, it is still very heartwarming to see others help out and sacrifice in order to help the victims of Yolanda. I am just hoping that they remember what charity is all about. It's about being a man for others, not for yourself.
Paul Ricoeur reminds us of what charity is truly about. It's the act of being selfless, giving without expecting anything in return, and it's the genuine desire to help those in need. However, Yolanda and the events which have transpired made me realize that it is difficult to be charitable-in it's truest sense in our society for three main reasons.
The first reason, is many have conflated the idea of charity and self-gratification. They want to help, because they want to show others they are "helpful", they are "kind" hence the abundance of selfies captured in relief centers. This is dangerous because we must remember that charity is not about yourself, but it's about others. You do not help the poor because it makes YOU feel good, but rather you help them because you know that as human beings, they deserve more. Making them tools for our happiness is no better than treating them as second class citizens, you rob them of their own dignity.
Secondly, we have simplified the idea of charity. Many think that just because you share, you are automatically charitable. The common excuse i hear is "at least I gave something". This mindset is upsetting because charity isn't giving for the sake of giving. The intentions behind the action must be considered as well, it is about genuinely wanting to help out. When one gives for the sake, it becomes tokenistic. Though it may help others, it surely does not depict what charity really is.
More than that, this mindset of "at least i helped" makes it harder to help those in need. It allows people to feel complacent, instead of aiming to do more, many become content with the little they can give--even when they can achieve and contribute so much more.
Lastly, even in the best case scenario where someone is charitable by Ricoeur's definition; it is very hard to practice it. With the skepticism surrounding NGO's and government agencies it makes it difficult for people to donate their hard earned money knowing that there is a great propensity for corruption to be present.
It is sad that the Philippines has come to this. Despite these problems, it is still very heartwarming to see others help out and sacrifice in order to help the victims of Yolanda. I am just hoping that they remember what charity is all about. It's about being a man for others, not for yourself.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Silence
by Kyla Relucio
Before going to bed this evening, I did my usual routine of checking emails and notifications on Facebook. This evening however, I could not help but feel very disheartened and disappointed as I scrolled through my news feeds for the only thing people are posting about are their complaints on the current situation our fellow Filipinos face and their angry comments full of discontent with the assistance of our government, most especially our President.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that there is nothing wrong. I just think that during moments like this, people online who can obviously have the time to sit in front of a laptop in their peaceful homes while other Filipinos are out there trying to survive and put together what’s left of them, should clearly just be silent.
Now is not the time to ask whose fault it is or why this is happening to us. Probably this is the time to answer how we could make things better. The answer to this question however can only be seen and given meaning through our actions.
I understand that some of us may feel angry, because we want things to get better and we feel like people who have that power to make things better aren’t doing their best. I also understand that it is very difficult to “let it go”, and to just ignore other angry comments or articles involved in criticizing the current situation we all face as Filipinos.
What must we do then?
The challenge for us is to be silent and to be peaceful. Our complaints wont do anything to make things better. It will only exacerbate the situation by putting emphasis on how unfortunate things have been. Silence does not mean we do not care or that things do not matter. Silence simply means that we do feel something yet no words can capture our emotions and sentiments.
Today, we are challenged to be human. Human, not in the sense, that it is innate for us to be angry and to react to this tragedy, but human in a sense that we can overcome and acknowledge our capability to do so.
Before going to bed this evening, I did my usual routine of checking emails and notifications on Facebook. This evening however, I could not help but feel very disheartened and disappointed as I scrolled through my news feeds for the only thing people are posting about are their complaints on the current situation our fellow Filipinos face and their angry comments full of discontent with the assistance of our government, most especially our President.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that there is nothing wrong. I just think that during moments like this, people online who can obviously have the time to sit in front of a laptop in their peaceful homes while other Filipinos are out there trying to survive and put together what’s left of them, should clearly just be silent.
Now is not the time to ask whose fault it is or why this is happening to us. Probably this is the time to answer how we could make things better. The answer to this question however can only be seen and given meaning through our actions.
I understand that some of us may feel angry, because we want things to get better and we feel like people who have that power to make things better aren’t doing their best. I also understand that it is very difficult to “let it go”, and to just ignore other angry comments or articles involved in criticizing the current situation we all face as Filipinos.
What must we do then?
The challenge for us is to be silent and to be peaceful. Our complaints wont do anything to make things better. It will only exacerbate the situation by putting emphasis on how unfortunate things have been. Silence does not mean we do not care or that things do not matter. Silence simply means that we do feel something yet no words can capture our emotions and sentiments.
Today, we are challenged to be human. Human, not in the sense, that it is innate for us to be angry and to react to this tragedy, but human in a sense that we can overcome and acknowledge our capability to do so.
Being A Neighbour
by Christian Gallardo
I grew up in an urban community within a modern world having a fast-paced lifestyle. Although my childhood seems relaxed, as I grew up, I realized that I have no other choice but to go with the flow and live such a fast-paced lifestyle because I don’t want to face the consequence of being a person detached of the world. Although I always say to the people around me that I’m living my life one point at a time- cherishing the present, the truth is, I’m always focused on the future. I’m afraid of the future because it is uncertain. And I bet, most of the inhabitants of this modern world are.
I guess that is the root point of being a “socious”. They are basically people stuck with their social roles, to the point that they way they relate to another is for a function. I cannot blame those people, including myself, for indeed, the future is frightening. And the world can be so cruel on those who have no clear well-planned future. Just imagine a life of not entering a university (Or any college) simply because one does not want to have planned life. Then afterwards, where shall one land? Sure, there are successful people who did not finish college. But most probably, one’s future will not be bright without a college diploma. And the story goes beyond planning one’s education. After that, there will be work; aging and retirement- all of which must be planned to go through smoothly. We just cannot deny the fact that we live with time. We cannot disregard the fact that someday we’ll be old and weak enough to work for ourselves, so we just have to have some plan. And we just need to prepare. If being a constant planner of life is a disease, then I guess it contaminated almost everyone.
Although being a socious seems like ideal in these times, it has a lot of hidden adverse effects. The most problematic of which is the tendency to become egoistic to gain pleasure. Since one cares only for one’s future, everything in the present goes back to the self. Every action is motivated by nothing other than the self. And what is the problem with that?
I can’t think of any logical reason why such is a problem, especially in the modern context where survival of fittest seems to be happening. But, I have an unexplainable personal problem with that. I notice that even though I gain something, and even though I give something, as long as the motivation of gaining or giving is related to me, I only experience a temporary satisfaction which shall be replaced quickly by a longing for another gain afterwards. And it seems like a vicious cycle. For example, when I study, I study merely to get high grades, so even though I get an A, I long for another one. And so and so forth.
But funnily, a strange thing happened to me yesterday. I donated money for the victims of the typhoon during the morning. Well, I hope no one judges me so hard at this point, but one of the reasons why I did so is that, aside from wanting to help my fellow countrymen, I just want to satisfy the guilt and the pity inside of me. So that every time I will look at the TV, I can say to myself, “Hey, I actually donated something! I guess I’m a good guy after all”. Then I could have my usual temporary satisfaction and go on with my life.
Yet, afternoon after that incident, I happened to pass by Covered courts to get something. Since I have a 2 hour break, I decided to pass by the Covered Courts in the Jesuit Residence to help in the repacking of goods for the Yolanda Victims. At first, all seems pretty normal. But then, after spending an hour and a half working on it, I began to think. Or feel. I felt a spark- something that I wasn’t able to feel for years. Something unexplainable mere words cannot describe. But perhaps the most accurate word for it is contentment. I left the repacking site contented for a rare time in my life. There seems to be solitude inside of me that seems to be still for once. For a rare occasion, there have been no questions or justifications after an act of goodness. No excuses or doubts to fill up. There’s just plain calmness.
Why? Because I just realized that I parted with one of the most important thing in my life- which is my time. I spent my time not for the gain of myself even a bit but for others. Not that I am saying that money or material offering is not worthy. Money is vital. But it can be regained once lost. Time, on the other hand, once spent, is lost forever. That’s why memories are highly valued right? Because time was actually paid for it.
But anyway, going back on my point, I guess even a “socious” can become “neighbour” sometimes. Actually, one must strive to become more of a neighbour because through which contentment is achieved- something way beyond the pleasure that temporary satisfaction can give. And I guess the best way to become a neighbour is to be ready to part with something that is of most value to you- be it material wealth, sentiments or time. At this point of time where the world is experiencing a lot of misfortunes, including my country which was just hit by a violent storm, I hope that we would all learn to really “give”- to give not just to satisfy the guilt or pity within us and to give without expecting for a repay someday. Give not because it needed by you but because it needed by someone else.
I grew up in an urban community within a modern world having a fast-paced lifestyle. Although my childhood seems relaxed, as I grew up, I realized that I have no other choice but to go with the flow and live such a fast-paced lifestyle because I don’t want to face the consequence of being a person detached of the world. Although I always say to the people around me that I’m living my life one point at a time- cherishing the present, the truth is, I’m always focused on the future. I’m afraid of the future because it is uncertain. And I bet, most of the inhabitants of this modern world are.
I guess that is the root point of being a “socious”. They are basically people stuck with their social roles, to the point that they way they relate to another is for a function. I cannot blame those people, including myself, for indeed, the future is frightening. And the world can be so cruel on those who have no clear well-planned future. Just imagine a life of not entering a university (Or any college) simply because one does not want to have planned life. Then afterwards, where shall one land? Sure, there are successful people who did not finish college. But most probably, one’s future will not be bright without a college diploma. And the story goes beyond planning one’s education. After that, there will be work; aging and retirement- all of which must be planned to go through smoothly. We just cannot deny the fact that we live with time. We cannot disregard the fact that someday we’ll be old and weak enough to work for ourselves, so we just have to have some plan. And we just need to prepare. If being a constant planner of life is a disease, then I guess it contaminated almost everyone.
Although being a socious seems like ideal in these times, it has a lot of hidden adverse effects. The most problematic of which is the tendency to become egoistic to gain pleasure. Since one cares only for one’s future, everything in the present goes back to the self. Every action is motivated by nothing other than the self. And what is the problem with that?
I can’t think of any logical reason why such is a problem, especially in the modern context where survival of fittest seems to be happening. But, I have an unexplainable personal problem with that. I notice that even though I gain something, and even though I give something, as long as the motivation of gaining or giving is related to me, I only experience a temporary satisfaction which shall be replaced quickly by a longing for another gain afterwards. And it seems like a vicious cycle. For example, when I study, I study merely to get high grades, so even though I get an A, I long for another one. And so and so forth.
But funnily, a strange thing happened to me yesterday. I donated money for the victims of the typhoon during the morning. Well, I hope no one judges me so hard at this point, but one of the reasons why I did so is that, aside from wanting to help my fellow countrymen, I just want to satisfy the guilt and the pity inside of me. So that every time I will look at the TV, I can say to myself, “Hey, I actually donated something! I guess I’m a good guy after all”. Then I could have my usual temporary satisfaction and go on with my life.
Yet, afternoon after that incident, I happened to pass by Covered courts to get something. Since I have a 2 hour break, I decided to pass by the Covered Courts in the Jesuit Residence to help in the repacking of goods for the Yolanda Victims. At first, all seems pretty normal. But then, after spending an hour and a half working on it, I began to think. Or feel. I felt a spark- something that I wasn’t able to feel for years. Something unexplainable mere words cannot describe. But perhaps the most accurate word for it is contentment. I left the repacking site contented for a rare time in my life. There seems to be solitude inside of me that seems to be still for once. For a rare occasion, there have been no questions or justifications after an act of goodness. No excuses or doubts to fill up. There’s just plain calmness.
Why? Because I just realized that I parted with one of the most important thing in my life- which is my time. I spent my time not for the gain of myself even a bit but for others. Not that I am saying that money or material offering is not worthy. Money is vital. But it can be regained once lost. Time, on the other hand, once spent, is lost forever. That’s why memories are highly valued right? Because time was actually paid for it.
But anyway, going back on my point, I guess even a “socious” can become “neighbour” sometimes. Actually, one must strive to become more of a neighbour because through which contentment is achieved- something way beyond the pleasure that temporary satisfaction can give. And I guess the best way to become a neighbour is to be ready to part with something that is of most value to you- be it material wealth, sentiments or time. At this point of time where the world is experiencing a lot of misfortunes, including my country which was just hit by a violent storm, I hope that we would all learn to really “give”- to give not just to satisfy the guilt or pity within us and to give without expecting for a repay someday. Give not because it needed by you but because it needed by someone else.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
A Transition in the Mode of Thinking
by Wys So
PH101 is perhaps the most inspiring course that I have taken so far throughout my student life. Unlike any other courses, philosophy is so useful and applicable to my life. It has the power to change my way of living, or rather the way of thinking. After spending a semester dealing with Dr. Garcia and Sir Earl, dealing with their lectures on philosophy, and also with my own thoughts, my own reflections, I have come to a conclusion that philosophy transformed me from a broken individual to a more authentic one. I have learned to reflect upon myself the concept of a broken world, and the meaning of being and existence. I have also learned how to see things differently, how to think more critically, and how to act like a ‘B’eing.
In the first day of my Theology 131 class, I was being asked by my prof “Why do I exist?”
If it’s the “I” before PH101, I would probably be astonished and stunned in front of the question, thinking about the most practical and acceptable answers such as “I exist to graduate in college” and “I exist to be a successful business man”; or the most amusing answer such as “I exist because of you” or “I exist to eat banana split.” Perhaps I would find myself lost in the question, and trying to recall all the concepts that I’ve learned in biology, chemistry, psychology, physics, etc. but still couldn’t answer even a single word.
Out of my wonder, I did have a answer to this question. The “I” after PH101 answered it. “I exist to learn, to experience life, to dwell and solve different kinds of problems. I exist for others and with others.” This is my answer, and I know what I am talking about.
For me, it is the matter of perspective that has changed in me after taking PH101. I start doing my part to be a less individualistic individual. I start to look at the problems in a different way. I try to think in a different setting. Perhaps the most important thing my philosophy has helped me so far is not to take things for granted, to improve our way of thinking, and to accept, to appreciate people and things more for what they are.
I have learned and gained a lot of insights from PH101, and I am expecting to learn more in my PH102 journey.
“Philosophy begins in wonder. And at the end, when philosophic thought has done its best, the wonder remains. There have been added, however, some grasp of the immensity of things, some purification of emotion by understanding.”
– A. N. Whitehead, Modes of Thought
In the first day of my Theology 131 class, I was being asked by my prof “Why do I exist?”
If it’s the “I” before PH101, I would probably be astonished and stunned in front of the question, thinking about the most practical and acceptable answers such as “I exist to graduate in college” and “I exist to be a successful business man”; or the most amusing answer such as “I exist because of you” or “I exist to eat banana split.” Perhaps I would find myself lost in the question, and trying to recall all the concepts that I’ve learned in biology, chemistry, psychology, physics, etc. but still couldn’t answer even a single word.
Out of my wonder, I did have a answer to this question. The “I” after PH101 answered it. “I exist to learn, to experience life, to dwell and solve different kinds of problems. I exist for others and with others.” This is my answer, and I know what I am talking about.
For me, it is the matter of perspective that has changed in me after taking PH101. I start doing my part to be a less individualistic individual. I start to look at the problems in a different way. I try to think in a different setting. Perhaps the most important thing my philosophy has helped me so far is not to take things for granted, to improve our way of thinking, and to accept, to appreciate people and things more for what they are.
I have learned and gained a lot of insights from PH101, and I am expecting to learn more in my PH102 journey.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
In Line
by Jio Deslate
The walls were made of the highest quality glass. Reinforced, of course, like the ones found in those Manhattan skyscrapers, yet seemingly so fragile. The floor was carpeted with the plainest of rugs. A dark gray mat highly susceptible to visible stains as evidenced in the coffee spills all over it. The room was minimally furnished. Just a few black leather couches on the side, some ornamental plants here and there, and a medium-sized black and white portrait of what seems to be a family - though none of the people actually look alike. It really wasn't what you would expect. No bright, divine light magnificently shining through in an awe-inspiring effect, no angelic voices or celestial choirs singing harmonious songs, and especially no lofty, dream-like clouds set against a deep, blazing azure. Centuries of conditioning should be blamed for this idea of heaven. And this is exactly what Jimmy was grudgingly thinking while waiting in line at St. Peter's gate.
The lines were inconceivably long. Two columns tortuously snaking its way around the ground floor lobby moving at a snail's pace. It was so cramped that there was but a few inches-space between each person. Not very efficient for the ultimate utopia, Jimmy thought. Then again this is just the reception area, the transitory vestibule between Earth and the final resting place. There are bound to be grander things inside, Jimmy hoped. But first there's the small matter of actually getting there. As his mind was yet again about to venture off into deep thought, a middle-aged, benign-looking man dressed in a guard's uniform (an angel Jimmy thought, I wouldn't be surprised if he was one, things here seem to be pulling off some kind of mundane look) comes around distributing curious looking files. They were application forms. The medieval legends did get something right. There is some sort of preliminary examination before entering the gates of heaven. Of course they misjudged this to be some sort of personal question and answer portion with St. Peter himself. It's really more of a standardized test, a lot like your customary university entrance exam, and as such filling out the application form is the first part.
Name, age (I'm guessing that's at the time of my earthly demise or can I already put "infinity" here? Maybe they'll like my confidence, Jimmy wondered), sex ("None whatsoever!" Might improve my chances! Haha!) Standard information. Pretty much all of it was standard. Well save for the essay question: "Why do you exist?" (It's either they're giving me another chance at life or Heaven should really improve its grammar. Guess they're really more familiar with Latin) somewhere in the middle below civil status (Widowed? Well I'm pretty sure that's what Marie checks. I wonder how she's doing now. At least the mortgage was nearly paid before I skedaddled...I think. I wonder if she 's still working for that ad agency. Oh and the kids. Is Junior still thinking of becoming a writer? Okay maybe that mortgage is still a long way to go...) and blood type (AB . Only one in the family with it. It's quite rare. I really have to thank that blood donor. Didn't even know the guy. Then again didn’t do much. Still ended up here way too early, right? Hahaha).
"Why do you exist? Explain in 300 words or less." The question said in big blue letters. There were already people in line frantically answering it. Each form came with one of those sturdy clipboards that made it easy for people to write even while standing up (finally a sign of competence here). The bell rang. "Serving 2452" the neon sign in the north wall said. The crowd was awakened. It's been 2451 for quite a while already and this is a welcome - albeit slow - development. Jimmy looked at the number on the upper right corner of his form: 2460 (okay so 8 more. Not that bad. I should probably already answer this damn question...oh but of course. No pen. Knew it was too good to be true). As Jimmy desperately searched for a pen more and more people pile up.
"Hey you need pen?" The old man ahead of him asked. He had a pleasant air about him. A feeling of familiarity that put Jimmy at ease. He dressed simply. A blue sweater with dark brown trousers. There was really nothing out of the ordinary about him save for the gold chain hanging from the side of his pants. A pocket watch, Jimmy noticed. He had one himself, though he never really used it. He saw it as a bit too old-fashioned when his father gave it to him. (Maybe I should've given it to Junior before...coming here. Then again. He probably would've just lost it).
"Yeah. Yeah I do. You got a spare?"
"Here!" The old man handed him the pen, his watch to fall out in the process.
"Thanks! Pocket watch, huh?"
"Huh? Oh yeah. Got it a long time ago. Didn't know we could actually bring stuff here, you know. Hahaha," the old man laughed warmly.
"Well it's not much of use anyway, I guess. I don't think there's any sense of time here anyway."
"Ahh yeah. Well hasn't really worked in ages. I just keep it with me for the sentimental value. Been passed on for generations in our family."
"Really now?" Jimmy smiled at the coincidence (Guess we're really not far off from Earth after all).
"Say this is a pretty lame question, don't you think?" Jimmy said to the old man, holding up his form.
"Why? Can't answer it?" The man replied. He was wearing a neon green polo with khaki pants (gaudy and not to mention painful to the eyes. A bit too young for your age don't you think, bud? Midlife crisis I'm guessing. Well he still looks like a mutated tree ). A stark contrast to Jimmy's tone colors.
"Nah. I'm just surprised they didn't make it into a multiple choice question. I would just answer "All of the above"... Is that what you answered?" Jimmy replied quite sarcastically, still reeling from the audacity of the man to stick his nose into his business (prick. An obnoxious, little prick. That's what he is).
"You're new here, aren't you?" the prick replied.
"Fresh out of Earth!" (I don't intend to wait here long with the likes of you turning this to hell!).
"Well look, bud. That's the standard question here. They've been asking that since Adam and Eve decided to come knocking . It's divinely inspired. Like the bible and all. So I don't think you should be poking fun at it," the prick replied. His hostile tone somewhat tempered by his sincere demeanor. (One of the ardent Church apologists. Those annoying overly-devout Christians. I wonder why he's still here then? Shouldn't they have welcomed him with open arms?)
"Not poking fun at it. I was just pointing out that it seems like such a heavy question given that I'm ten people away from being called," Jimmy replied.
"Trust me. You'll have more than enough time to answer that."
"2453" the neon ominously flashed as the pilgrimage inched further on.
"Thanks for the heads up!" Jimmy said sardonically again. (He's right. But does he really have to be such a prick about it. I mean he could've just pointed it out nicely. Plus even if I do have all the time in the worl...Heaven...Heaven. Still feels like Earth. How do I even know I'm in heaven. None of the typical signs here. Then again those legends ARE ridiculous. But how would I know I'm actually at the gates of eternity?Ah don’t be stupid, Jimmy. You just know. You've known since I found myself here. Maybe I'm just in denial. This is heaven alright. Or at least the road to it).
The old man smiled at him upon the conception of the thought. It was a knowing smile. It was as if he overheard him in his head. Or felt the sudden shift in Jimmy's expression from a stiff annoyance to visible anxiety.
"It's okay, sport! Breathe. You'll get your answer in due time," the old man said.
"Thanks, sir!" (Sport. Odd. That's what dad used to call me as a kid. Got in the habit of calling Junior that as well. Oh and once again he's right. I guess people who stay anywhere near God absorbs some of his infallibility, eh? Maybe I can avail myself of that and finally be able to answer this damn question!)
"2454" the sign read. 6 more to go.
Jimmy stared at the mocking blank box that he is supposed to fill out soon enough. The nearby murmurs of equally anxious applicants filled the room, simultaneously assaulting his defenceless ears. A look of livid annoyance flashed on his face. (Son of a bitch! Can these people keep their mouths shut? How the hell am I suppose to answer this damn essay with all that noise?!)
"...Pencil," the stranger said. Jimmy only caught the last part of that in his distraction.
"What?"
"Use a pencil. Just in case you need to erase it. Looks neater," the stranger said. He was a woman in her late 30s -- at least judging from her appearance. She had a casual air to her. A nonchalant aura that was a stark contrast to the imposing prick's, just enough to make her presence her felt if one would care to notice. She had a bashful smile. An awkwardness to her speech and movement that suggests she is not one to regularly socialize. She was neither pretty nor repulsive. An admittedly forgettable face, Jimmy thought.
"Oh. I don't have one," Jimmy replied amiably enough.
"Oh! I think I have a spare. Hold on. Let me check," the girl said. Immediately fumbling through her purse in search for the pencil.
"Oh it's quite alright I can just use..."
"Here!" The girl held out the pencil, visibly pleased at the small help she had offered.
"Oh. Thank you so much," Jimmy replied. (Wow why's someone as nice as her still here? This woman should practically just make her grand entrance into the gates right now!).
"I'm Mary," the girl introduced. (Which one? The Virgin or the whore? Pretty sure the first one but whatever the case that name is made for heaven! Well James is good enough I guess. One of the disciples, right? Wish it was more of the popular ones, though. The stars of the bible. Matthew, Luke, ...Jesus?)
"Jimmy," he replied, offering a handshake.
"2455," it threatened in a hostile red light.
"Hey it's speeding up!" the old man observed.
"Right when I need some time! Jesus Christ!"
"Be careful, sport! He's pretty nearby! He might just hear you!" The old man quipped.
"Well maybe he can help me out here!"
"Hey you hold your tongue!" the prick warned menacingly.
"Can't seem to," Jimmy retorted as he petulantly stuck his tongue out. (Yeah I know. Real mature. Well maybe they should me back to Earth so I'll have enough time to grow up!)
"Now, now. Can't we all be civil here? This place is known for peace after all! Well what's beyond the gate is at least. Let's try and emulate that, sports. Shall we?" the old man admonished the two. He, himself, was only halfway through his essay as he scoured his brain for an answer.
The couches were now occupied. Some tired men and women resting their minds awhile in the comfort of the leather upholstery. There was a feeling of exhaustion in the air. Mental exhaustion. There were some who would talk amongst themselves and discuss their answers - for this was permitted. These were the more energetic ones who still enough vigor in them to fuel the deft movements of their hands that accompany each articulation. There were still some, young and old, who had enough life in them for these draining activities for the rest have retired to their own corners or amble aimlessly around, dragging their heavy feet as in despair.
"By the way, sport. Would you happen to have any of that white-out thing on you? I seem to have made a mistake with my son's birthday! Just have to correct it!" The old man asked.
"Correction tape? Yeah I think I have some!"
Jimmy casually searched his overloaded pocket, frustratingly groping for the tape lost among his other stuff. (Where the hell is it? God I really need bigger pockets. Everything's in the damn way!)
The murmurs were getting louder and louder as the line was beginning to buzz about. This added to Jimmy's irritation as he finally retrieves the tape. (JESUS HOW CAN I CONCENTRATE WITH ALL THIS NOISE? WHERE IS IT??! Oh there we go! Found it! Aannd it's almost out. Christ. I might need this too. What if I make a mistake? But then again he did lend me a pen. Great. Now what.)
"It's out! Sorry! Maybe you can just scratch it out?" Jimmy suggested, offering his best compensatory smile.
"Oh, dear. Well alright. Thank you anyway!" The old man warmly replied. (Really sorry, old man. Just need to get all of this right. God what is up with all that noise! They're really getting on my nerves. Can't they talk about stuff somewhere else? I need to start on this damn essay already!)
The room was getting stuffy. Another influx of applicants crowded around the lines getting all the materials they'll be needing. The noise was becoming unbearable. The cacophony of a thousand different voices clashing in the dense air. The chaos was intensifying in Jimmy's ears. Bombarding him relentlessly (CAN EVERYONE PLEASE TURN IT DOWN A NOTCH?! SERIOUSLY).
"Are you okay?" the girl asked.
Jimmy saw her lips moving. In the craziness of it all she wasn't so bad. The initial awkwardness was slowly melting away. She must be saying important and in response Jimmy cluelessly smiles.
"Oh I'm sorry to bother you but do you know if it's last name first or could we write it the way we usually do in the form?" the girl followed up.
Jimmy closed his eyes as the girl's question was met with cold silence. The noise was become quite physically painful to his ears - or at least gave a similar sensation. Perhaps he could block everything out, he thought. It was worth a shot.
The torturous buzzing was ceaseless. The assault was ramming through his defences. Inner peace was rapidly escaping his mental grip, descending into the abyss of his enveloping rage.
"SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU!!!"
The crowd was stunned into silence. The sudden quiet, deafening. A thousand eyes now stare at him.
"Hey , hotshot. Where'd you get the balls to order people around?" the prick violently admonished.
"Shut up, you son of a bitch. You're goody-two-shoes act won't increase your chances here!"
"Maybe it will if I send the bad guy straight to hell," the prick threatened as he menacingly made his way to Jimmy.
The old man quickly got in the middle of it all to cool things down. Jimmy and the prick were forced to settle for hostile stares as they struggled with their tempers. The crowd went back to their disruptive business soon after.
"2459" It warned. (Shit! Must not have noticed when the other numbers were called. Stupid crowd! Stupid prick!)
"You're up next! Ready for the test?" The old man asked, trying to lighten the mood with normal conversation.
"Yeah. You have any idea what it's like?"
"Keep forgetting you're new at this. Well it's a written exam so that pen I lent you will come in handy. Hahaha," the old man quipped.
"There's more of that crap?"
"I wouldn't call it crap, but yes. It's all part of it, sport. We all have to go through this! Hahaha."
"Wait. You've done this already? So why are you still here?"
"Well they're giving more questions apparently. Can you believe that? Hahaha!"
"No. I can't actually. This is insane."
"That might be so but you should really finish that essay in a while. You're almost up!"
"Yeah. You're right," Jimmy replied. (Great. Just great. Well he's right. Have to at least try writing this damn essay.)
Jimmy scrawled a few spontaneous sentences. Perfect grammar , proper word choice, and neat sentence structures, he was proud to say. He's always been a good writer.
"2460" The sign beckoned. The red light greeted him with an alarming intensity. It was time.
"Damn it! Made it a mistake again! This is gonna look shitty now!" the prick ranted in the distance. Jimmy couldn't help but smile on his way to the examination venue (serves you right, prick) fiddling with the correction tape in his hand.
The venue was your typical lecture hall. Each row was higher than the next, ascending in every step. The tables were long and connected, and due to the overwhelming number of examinees, prone to cheating due to a forced non-implementation of the one-seat-apart standard procedure. Cheating was impossible here anyway. Too noticeable considering the classroom setup and too stupid considering the reason for the test.
Everyone settled down into their chairs, anxiously awaiting the test papers to be distributed as the proctor went around to collect the application forms. He was an old man. Heavily bearded with the white locks snow-capping his head. It was St. Peter himself. Another one the medieval stereotypes got right.
A few minutes later, the questionnaires were given faced down followed by the instructions. They were simple. Answer the questionnaire with a pen, erasures are allowed, use complete sentences.
Jimmy nervously tapped his pen on the table, taking a bit of time to mentally prepare himself before viewing the questions. He felt the smooth, thin, material of the paper, half-hoping it would soothe him. And then with a big exhale of anxiety he mustered up enough courage to turn the questionnaire over.
"1. What is the name of the old man in the line with you?"
Jimmy froze. The perceived absurdity of the question stunning him into immobility. It must be some kind of joke, he thought. (I thought...this was supposed to be a standard test. Why on earth are they asking me that. How do they even know I talked to him. Well nevermind I know how but he...He never introduced himself. And how was I supposed to know this was gonna be asked?! Why is this even being asked? Jesus! Now what?)
Jimmy slowly scrolled his eyes down to the next question, desperately praying for something better.
"2. What is the name of the awkward, forgettable girl?"
It was another dead-end. Jimmy closed his eyes in despair as he realized his mistakes. (Why didn't I take her name down? Or remembered it at least! Was it Maggie? Something like that. I made a joke about it but geez. How am I supposed to remember with that stupid quip? Oh I am so screwed!)
Jimmy continued despite striking twice. Third time's the charm, he thought, with tragic hope.
"3. What is the name of that annoying, little prick?"
It must be a prank, he thought. A mean display of divine powers to establish authority perhaps. (This can't be legit. There's no way this can be a real question. They can't penalize me for not knowing that son of a bitch's name. This is unfair.)
The last one, Jimmy thought. The last one could be some sort of saving grace. A final opportunity to possibly redeem himself. If only he could answer it.
"4. How did you help them?"
Blank. Jimmy wasn't expecting this. Any of this. The irony of it all was too much to bear, he thought, as he recalled his encounter with the people in the line. (The tape. The damn correction tape. Am I really gonna be deprived of eternity for not lending that?). One by one the examinees submitted their papers and left. Jimmy followed suit in a moment's time.
The walk back to the line was an agonizing one as Jimmy’s dispirited gloom set the mood for a virtual funeral march. The crowd was still buzzing away, unintelligibly voicing out their concerns. This time Jimmy was too exhausted to even notice anything.
The room remained virtually unchanged. The still, unmoving background provided a stark contrast to the restless people moving around the vicinity. His little tragedy would go unnoticed here as his fellow mourners made their way to the couches. Jimmy’s heart sank at the misery of it all. The sudden realization of the facts he must face was difficult to take in. The possibility of being stuck here, so close to paradise, for who knows how long. The thought sent a stinging pain right through his chest. It was a real and extreme pain urging Jimmy to wearily check his heartbeat. It was too fast.
Jimmy struggled to stay on his feet. His voice was lost in his throat as he tried calling out for help. His heartbeat was intensifying further and further driving him to desperation. His vision was slowly failing him. Dark spots coming and going as he stumbled towards nothingness. Fragments were all that was left. Splinters of images giving him a last chance at survival. Jimmy desperately tried to focus on the these. It was a chaotic sequence of light and abstract objects. Blurred figures of unidentifiable things. Faces he struggled to recognize. The family portrait he saw earlier was there. Well it must be it, he thought. The black and white blot on the wall. The plants were still visible with their green hues. And the couches...They were all occupied. By the same people who clearly don’t know or care for his predicament. The images came to him more slowly now. In a frame by frame stylized effect. Jimmy held out his hand in an effort to call their attention. It was to no avail. The room was now losing its shape. Everything was reduced to unrecognizable forms, racing towards pitch black oblivion as his leg struck a hard, immovable object.
His impaired vision could only make out the white pillows that at first he mistook for clouds (so we finally get clouds up here!). There were two of them. One resting horizontally upon the head of the mattress and the other perpendicular to it forming a T shape on top of the clean, white sheets. The bed was simple enough save for its odd location in the middle of the room. It was wooden and equipped with the standard headboard and footboard. Good for one. Perfect for the exhausted Jimmy. He blindly groped for the pillows and upon find them he collapsed on the bed...
Jimmy awoke to the sound of murmurs (they’re still at it, huh? I wonder what they’re talking about now) of people gathered around him.
“We’re gonna have to shock him. Defib! Where’s the defib!” the man said through his flimsy looking mask. He was wearing all green down to the hair covers. Jimmy’s vision was coming back in time for him to recognize the face of (Dr. Xavier!) the head surgeon. He was looking down at him, earnestly concerned, Jimmy recognized, even through his mask. Beside him were the team of surgeons tasked to (what happened to me?) somehow save him. Jimmy realized he wasn’t in the line anymore. He somehow returned back into the world.
“He’s flat-lining. Get ready to shock him!”
Jimmy looked around and saw the calm countenances (they must be panicking inside)
of the surgeons around him. In the distance he saw familiar faces. In the observation area he noticed Marie watching on conspicuously worried. She looked younger somehow. As if the stress of having to watch over him had a reversing effect. She looked like she did in their honeymoon. Beside her was Junior. The stoic expression can’t hide his concern as he walked around frantically, checking the time every minute or so. Even from afar Jimmy could recognize the gold chain that dangled elegantly from the pocket watch (so he decided to use it. That’s good. I should’ve given to him long ago).
Jimmy closed his eyes as he recalled his (what was that?) celestial experience. He knew it wasn’t over as the EKG’s slow, slithering lines reminded him of that frustrating wait.
“Clear!”
The murmurs started again. This time they were coherent enough. Updates on his condition. Instructions on what to do next.
“Clear!”
Jimmy listened to them. To the sound of their murmurs. To the sound of the EKG’s high pitch as it signalled the movement of his heartbeat in long, thin green lines ominously going flat. To the sound of the defibrillator shocking him back to life.
The walls were made of the highest quality glass. Reinforced, of course, like the ones found in those Manhattan skyscrapers, yet seemingly so fragile. The floor was carpeted with the plainest of rugs. A dark gray mat highly susceptible to visible stains as evidenced in the coffee spills all over it. The room was minimally furnished. Just a few black leather couches on the side, some ornamental plants here and there, and a medium-sized black and white portrait of what seems to be a family - though none of the people actually look alike. It really wasn't what you would expect. No bright, divine light magnificently shining through in an awe-inspiring effect, no angelic voices or celestial choirs singing harmonious songs, and especially no lofty, dream-like clouds set against a deep, blazing azure. Centuries of conditioning should be blamed for this idea of heaven. And this is exactly what Jimmy was grudgingly thinking while waiting in line at St. Peter's gate.
The lines were inconceivably long. Two columns tortuously snaking its way around the ground floor lobby moving at a snail's pace. It was so cramped that there was but a few inches-space between each person. Not very efficient for the ultimate utopia, Jimmy thought. Then again this is just the reception area, the transitory vestibule between Earth and the final resting place. There are bound to be grander things inside, Jimmy hoped. But first there's the small matter of actually getting there. As his mind was yet again about to venture off into deep thought, a middle-aged, benign-looking man dressed in a guard's uniform (an angel Jimmy thought, I wouldn't be surprised if he was one, things here seem to be pulling off some kind of mundane look) comes around distributing curious looking files. They were application forms. The medieval legends did get something right. There is some sort of preliminary examination before entering the gates of heaven. Of course they misjudged this to be some sort of personal question and answer portion with St. Peter himself. It's really more of a standardized test, a lot like your customary university entrance exam, and as such filling out the application form is the first part.
Name, age (I'm guessing that's at the time of my earthly demise or can I already put "infinity" here? Maybe they'll like my confidence, Jimmy wondered), sex ("None whatsoever!" Might improve my chances! Haha!) Standard information. Pretty much all of it was standard. Well save for the essay question: "Why do you exist?" (It's either they're giving me another chance at life or Heaven should really improve its grammar. Guess they're really more familiar with Latin) somewhere in the middle below civil status (Widowed? Well I'm pretty sure that's what Marie checks. I wonder how she's doing now. At least the mortgage was nearly paid before I skedaddled...I think. I wonder if she 's still working for that ad agency. Oh and the kids. Is Junior still thinking of becoming a writer? Okay maybe that mortgage is still a long way to go...) and blood type (AB . Only one in the family with it. It's quite rare. I really have to thank that blood donor. Didn't even know the guy. Then again didn’t do much. Still ended up here way too early, right? Hahaha).
"Why do you exist? Explain in 300 words or less." The question said in big blue letters. There were already people in line frantically answering it. Each form came with one of those sturdy clipboards that made it easy for people to write even while standing up (finally a sign of competence here). The bell rang. "Serving 2452" the neon sign in the north wall said. The crowd was awakened. It's been 2451 for quite a while already and this is a welcome - albeit slow - development. Jimmy looked at the number on the upper right corner of his form: 2460 (okay so 8 more. Not that bad. I should probably already answer this damn question...oh but of course. No pen. Knew it was too good to be true). As Jimmy desperately searched for a pen more and more people pile up.
"Hey you need pen?" The old man ahead of him asked. He had a pleasant air about him. A feeling of familiarity that put Jimmy at ease. He dressed simply. A blue sweater with dark brown trousers. There was really nothing out of the ordinary about him save for the gold chain hanging from the side of his pants. A pocket watch, Jimmy noticed. He had one himself, though he never really used it. He saw it as a bit too old-fashioned when his father gave it to him. (Maybe I should've given it to Junior before...coming here. Then again. He probably would've just lost it).
"Yeah. Yeah I do. You got a spare?"
"Here!" The old man handed him the pen, his watch to fall out in the process.
"Thanks! Pocket watch, huh?"
"Huh? Oh yeah. Got it a long time ago. Didn't know we could actually bring stuff here, you know. Hahaha," the old man laughed warmly.
"Well it's not much of use anyway, I guess. I don't think there's any sense of time here anyway."
"Ahh yeah. Well hasn't really worked in ages. I just keep it with me for the sentimental value. Been passed on for generations in our family."
"Really now?" Jimmy smiled at the coincidence (Guess we're really not far off from Earth after all).
"Say this is a pretty lame question, don't you think?" Jimmy said to the old man, holding up his form.
"Why? Can't answer it?" The man replied. He was wearing a neon green polo with khaki pants (gaudy and not to mention painful to the eyes. A bit too young for your age don't you think, bud? Midlife crisis I'm guessing. Well he still looks like a mutated tree ). A stark contrast to Jimmy's tone colors.
"Nah. I'm just surprised they didn't make it into a multiple choice question. I would just answer "All of the above"... Is that what you answered?" Jimmy replied quite sarcastically, still reeling from the audacity of the man to stick his nose into his business (prick. An obnoxious, little prick. That's what he is).
"You're new here, aren't you?" the prick replied.
"Fresh out of Earth!" (I don't intend to wait here long with the likes of you turning this to hell!).
"Well look, bud. That's the standard question here. They've been asking that since Adam and Eve decided to come knocking . It's divinely inspired. Like the bible and all. So I don't think you should be poking fun at it," the prick replied. His hostile tone somewhat tempered by his sincere demeanor. (One of the ardent Church apologists. Those annoying overly-devout Christians. I wonder why he's still here then? Shouldn't they have welcomed him with open arms?)
"Not poking fun at it. I was just pointing out that it seems like such a heavy question given that I'm ten people away from being called," Jimmy replied.
"Trust me. You'll have more than enough time to answer that."
"2453" the neon ominously flashed as the pilgrimage inched further on.
"Thanks for the heads up!" Jimmy said sardonically again. (He's right. But does he really have to be such a prick about it. I mean he could've just pointed it out nicely. Plus even if I do have all the time in the worl...Heaven...Heaven. Still feels like Earth. How do I even know I'm in heaven. None of the typical signs here. Then again those legends ARE ridiculous. But how would I know I'm actually at the gates of eternity?Ah don’t be stupid, Jimmy. You just know. You've known since I found myself here. Maybe I'm just in denial. This is heaven alright. Or at least the road to it).
The old man smiled at him upon the conception of the thought. It was a knowing smile. It was as if he overheard him in his head. Or felt the sudden shift in Jimmy's expression from a stiff annoyance to visible anxiety.
"It's okay, sport! Breathe. You'll get your answer in due time," the old man said.
"Thanks, sir!" (Sport. Odd. That's what dad used to call me as a kid. Got in the habit of calling Junior that as well. Oh and once again he's right. I guess people who stay anywhere near God absorbs some of his infallibility, eh? Maybe I can avail myself of that and finally be able to answer this damn question!)
"2454" the sign read. 6 more to go.
Jimmy stared at the mocking blank box that he is supposed to fill out soon enough. The nearby murmurs of equally anxious applicants filled the room, simultaneously assaulting his defenceless ears. A look of livid annoyance flashed on his face. (Son of a bitch! Can these people keep their mouths shut? How the hell am I suppose to answer this damn essay with all that noise?!)
"...Pencil," the stranger said. Jimmy only caught the last part of that in his distraction.
"What?"
"Use a pencil. Just in case you need to erase it. Looks neater," the stranger said. He was a woman in her late 30s -- at least judging from her appearance. She had a casual air to her. A nonchalant aura that was a stark contrast to the imposing prick's, just enough to make her presence her felt if one would care to notice. She had a bashful smile. An awkwardness to her speech and movement that suggests she is not one to regularly socialize. She was neither pretty nor repulsive. An admittedly forgettable face, Jimmy thought.
"Oh. I don't have one," Jimmy replied amiably enough.
"Oh! I think I have a spare. Hold on. Let me check," the girl said. Immediately fumbling through her purse in search for the pencil.
"Oh it's quite alright I can just use..."
"Here!" The girl held out the pencil, visibly pleased at the small help she had offered.
"Oh. Thank you so much," Jimmy replied. (Wow why's someone as nice as her still here? This woman should practically just make her grand entrance into the gates right now!).
"I'm Mary," the girl introduced. (Which one? The Virgin or the whore? Pretty sure the first one but whatever the case that name is made for heaven! Well James is good enough I guess. One of the disciples, right? Wish it was more of the popular ones, though. The stars of the bible. Matthew, Luke, ...Jesus?)
"Jimmy," he replied, offering a handshake.
"2455," it threatened in a hostile red light.
"Hey it's speeding up!" the old man observed.
"Right when I need some time! Jesus Christ!"
"Be careful, sport! He's pretty nearby! He might just hear you!" The old man quipped.
"Well maybe he can help me out here!"
"Hey you hold your tongue!" the prick warned menacingly.
"Can't seem to," Jimmy retorted as he petulantly stuck his tongue out. (Yeah I know. Real mature. Well maybe they should me back to Earth so I'll have enough time to grow up!)
"Now, now. Can't we all be civil here? This place is known for peace after all! Well what's beyond the gate is at least. Let's try and emulate that, sports. Shall we?" the old man admonished the two. He, himself, was only halfway through his essay as he scoured his brain for an answer.
The couches were now occupied. Some tired men and women resting their minds awhile in the comfort of the leather upholstery. There was a feeling of exhaustion in the air. Mental exhaustion. There were some who would talk amongst themselves and discuss their answers - for this was permitted. These were the more energetic ones who still enough vigor in them to fuel the deft movements of their hands that accompany each articulation. There were still some, young and old, who had enough life in them for these draining activities for the rest have retired to their own corners or amble aimlessly around, dragging their heavy feet as in despair.
"By the way, sport. Would you happen to have any of that white-out thing on you? I seem to have made a mistake with my son's birthday! Just have to correct it!" The old man asked.
"Correction tape? Yeah I think I have some!"
Jimmy casually searched his overloaded pocket, frustratingly groping for the tape lost among his other stuff. (Where the hell is it? God I really need bigger pockets. Everything's in the damn way!)
The murmurs were getting louder and louder as the line was beginning to buzz about. This added to Jimmy's irritation as he finally retrieves the tape. (JESUS HOW CAN I CONCENTRATE WITH ALL THIS NOISE? WHERE IS IT??! Oh there we go! Found it! Aannd it's almost out. Christ. I might need this too. What if I make a mistake? But then again he did lend me a pen. Great. Now what.)
"It's out! Sorry! Maybe you can just scratch it out?" Jimmy suggested, offering his best compensatory smile.
"Oh, dear. Well alright. Thank you anyway!" The old man warmly replied. (Really sorry, old man. Just need to get all of this right. God what is up with all that noise! They're really getting on my nerves. Can't they talk about stuff somewhere else? I need to start on this damn essay already!)
The room was getting stuffy. Another influx of applicants crowded around the lines getting all the materials they'll be needing. The noise was becoming unbearable. The cacophony of a thousand different voices clashing in the dense air. The chaos was intensifying in Jimmy's ears. Bombarding him relentlessly (CAN EVERYONE PLEASE TURN IT DOWN A NOTCH?! SERIOUSLY).
"Are you okay?" the girl asked.
Jimmy saw her lips moving. In the craziness of it all she wasn't so bad. The initial awkwardness was slowly melting away. She must be saying important and in response Jimmy cluelessly smiles.
"Oh I'm sorry to bother you but do you know if it's last name first or could we write it the way we usually do in the form?" the girl followed up.
Jimmy closed his eyes as the girl's question was met with cold silence. The noise was become quite physically painful to his ears - or at least gave a similar sensation. Perhaps he could block everything out, he thought. It was worth a shot.
The torturous buzzing was ceaseless. The assault was ramming through his defences. Inner peace was rapidly escaping his mental grip, descending into the abyss of his enveloping rage.
"SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU!!!"
The crowd was stunned into silence. The sudden quiet, deafening. A thousand eyes now stare at him.
"Hey , hotshot. Where'd you get the balls to order people around?" the prick violently admonished.
"Shut up, you son of a bitch. You're goody-two-shoes act won't increase your chances here!"
"Maybe it will if I send the bad guy straight to hell," the prick threatened as he menacingly made his way to Jimmy.
The old man quickly got in the middle of it all to cool things down. Jimmy and the prick were forced to settle for hostile stares as they struggled with their tempers. The crowd went back to their disruptive business soon after.
"2459" It warned. (Shit! Must not have noticed when the other numbers were called. Stupid crowd! Stupid prick!)
"You're up next! Ready for the test?" The old man asked, trying to lighten the mood with normal conversation.
"Yeah. You have any idea what it's like?"
"Keep forgetting you're new at this. Well it's a written exam so that pen I lent you will come in handy. Hahaha," the old man quipped.
"There's more of that crap?"
"I wouldn't call it crap, but yes. It's all part of it, sport. We all have to go through this! Hahaha."
"Wait. You've done this already? So why are you still here?"
"Well they're giving more questions apparently. Can you believe that? Hahaha!"
"No. I can't actually. This is insane."
"That might be so but you should really finish that essay in a while. You're almost up!"
"Yeah. You're right," Jimmy replied. (Great. Just great. Well he's right. Have to at least try writing this damn essay.)
Jimmy scrawled a few spontaneous sentences. Perfect grammar , proper word choice, and neat sentence structures, he was proud to say. He's always been a good writer.
"2460" The sign beckoned. The red light greeted him with an alarming intensity. It was time.
"Damn it! Made it a mistake again! This is gonna look shitty now!" the prick ranted in the distance. Jimmy couldn't help but smile on his way to the examination venue (serves you right, prick) fiddling with the correction tape in his hand.
The venue was your typical lecture hall. Each row was higher than the next, ascending in every step. The tables were long and connected, and due to the overwhelming number of examinees, prone to cheating due to a forced non-implementation of the one-seat-apart standard procedure. Cheating was impossible here anyway. Too noticeable considering the classroom setup and too stupid considering the reason for the test.
Everyone settled down into their chairs, anxiously awaiting the test papers to be distributed as the proctor went around to collect the application forms. He was an old man. Heavily bearded with the white locks snow-capping his head. It was St. Peter himself. Another one the medieval stereotypes got right.
A few minutes later, the questionnaires were given faced down followed by the instructions. They were simple. Answer the questionnaire with a pen, erasures are allowed, use complete sentences.
Jimmy nervously tapped his pen on the table, taking a bit of time to mentally prepare himself before viewing the questions. He felt the smooth, thin, material of the paper, half-hoping it would soothe him. And then with a big exhale of anxiety he mustered up enough courage to turn the questionnaire over.
"1. What is the name of the old man in the line with you?"
Jimmy froze. The perceived absurdity of the question stunning him into immobility. It must be some kind of joke, he thought. (I thought...this was supposed to be a standard test. Why on earth are they asking me that. How do they even know I talked to him. Well nevermind I know how but he...He never introduced himself. And how was I supposed to know this was gonna be asked?! Why is this even being asked? Jesus! Now what?)
Jimmy slowly scrolled his eyes down to the next question, desperately praying for something better.
"2. What is the name of the awkward, forgettable girl?"
It was another dead-end. Jimmy closed his eyes in despair as he realized his mistakes. (Why didn't I take her name down? Or remembered it at least! Was it Maggie? Something like that. I made a joke about it but geez. How am I supposed to remember with that stupid quip? Oh I am so screwed!)
Jimmy continued despite striking twice. Third time's the charm, he thought, with tragic hope.
"3. What is the name of that annoying, little prick?"
It must be a prank, he thought. A mean display of divine powers to establish authority perhaps. (This can't be legit. There's no way this can be a real question. They can't penalize me for not knowing that son of a bitch's name. This is unfair.)
The last one, Jimmy thought. The last one could be some sort of saving grace. A final opportunity to possibly redeem himself. If only he could answer it.
"4. How did you help them?"
Blank. Jimmy wasn't expecting this. Any of this. The irony of it all was too much to bear, he thought, as he recalled his encounter with the people in the line. (The tape. The damn correction tape. Am I really gonna be deprived of eternity for not lending that?). One by one the examinees submitted their papers and left. Jimmy followed suit in a moment's time.
The walk back to the line was an agonizing one as Jimmy’s dispirited gloom set the mood for a virtual funeral march. The crowd was still buzzing away, unintelligibly voicing out their concerns. This time Jimmy was too exhausted to even notice anything.
The room remained virtually unchanged. The still, unmoving background provided a stark contrast to the restless people moving around the vicinity. His little tragedy would go unnoticed here as his fellow mourners made their way to the couches. Jimmy’s heart sank at the misery of it all. The sudden realization of the facts he must face was difficult to take in. The possibility of being stuck here, so close to paradise, for who knows how long. The thought sent a stinging pain right through his chest. It was a real and extreme pain urging Jimmy to wearily check his heartbeat. It was too fast.
Jimmy struggled to stay on his feet. His voice was lost in his throat as he tried calling out for help. His heartbeat was intensifying further and further driving him to desperation. His vision was slowly failing him. Dark spots coming and going as he stumbled towards nothingness. Fragments were all that was left. Splinters of images giving him a last chance at survival. Jimmy desperately tried to focus on the these. It was a chaotic sequence of light and abstract objects. Blurred figures of unidentifiable things. Faces he struggled to recognize. The family portrait he saw earlier was there. Well it must be it, he thought. The black and white blot on the wall. The plants were still visible with their green hues. And the couches...They were all occupied. By the same people who clearly don’t know or care for his predicament. The images came to him more slowly now. In a frame by frame stylized effect. Jimmy held out his hand in an effort to call their attention. It was to no avail. The room was now losing its shape. Everything was reduced to unrecognizable forms, racing towards pitch black oblivion as his leg struck a hard, immovable object.
His impaired vision could only make out the white pillows that at first he mistook for clouds (so we finally get clouds up here!). There were two of them. One resting horizontally upon the head of the mattress and the other perpendicular to it forming a T shape on top of the clean, white sheets. The bed was simple enough save for its odd location in the middle of the room. It was wooden and equipped with the standard headboard and footboard. Good for one. Perfect for the exhausted Jimmy. He blindly groped for the pillows and upon find them he collapsed on the bed...
Jimmy awoke to the sound of murmurs (they’re still at it, huh? I wonder what they’re talking about now) of people gathered around him.
“We’re gonna have to shock him. Defib! Where’s the defib!” the man said through his flimsy looking mask. He was wearing all green down to the hair covers. Jimmy’s vision was coming back in time for him to recognize the face of (Dr. Xavier!) the head surgeon. He was looking down at him, earnestly concerned, Jimmy recognized, even through his mask. Beside him were the team of surgeons tasked to (what happened to me?) somehow save him. Jimmy realized he wasn’t in the line anymore. He somehow returned back into the world.
“He’s flat-lining. Get ready to shock him!”
Jimmy looked around and saw the calm countenances (they must be panicking inside)
of the surgeons around him. In the distance he saw familiar faces. In the observation area he noticed Marie watching on conspicuously worried. She looked younger somehow. As if the stress of having to watch over him had a reversing effect. She looked like she did in their honeymoon. Beside her was Junior. The stoic expression can’t hide his concern as he walked around frantically, checking the time every minute or so. Even from afar Jimmy could recognize the gold chain that dangled elegantly from the pocket watch (so he decided to use it. That’s good. I should’ve given to him long ago).
Jimmy closed his eyes as he recalled his (what was that?) celestial experience. He knew it wasn’t over as the EKG’s slow, slithering lines reminded him of that frustrating wait.
“Clear!”
The murmurs started again. This time they were coherent enough. Updates on his condition. Instructions on what to do next.
“Clear!”
Jimmy listened to them. To the sound of their murmurs. To the sound of the EKG’s high pitch as it signalled the movement of his heartbeat in long, thin green lines ominously going flat. To the sound of the defibrillator shocking him back to life.
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