If I Were A TV Character...

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...I'd be Mary Alice Young from Desperate Housewives.

She's dead. She's omniscient. She's all knowing. She can laugh at all her friends' crazy exploits. She can be sad about their stupid, pathetic lives. And she can be happy that she is dead. At least, she's not one of them anymore.

This may sound morbid, but I wanna be dead and be aware of what everyone is doing. To know people's every little secret. To see how they look perched on the john. To see what they do when they thought no one was watching. But then what? The problem is you cannot have everything. You can be dead and know everything, but then you couldn't do anything about what you know. Or you could be alive and can do something about what you know, but you can never know everything. And really, if I'm dead, would I still care? Uhmmm, probably not. I'm self-centered in life and probably in death as well.

Sometimes people are so engrossed about their own lives, so absorbed in their own worries and so busy whining about their problems that they don't see that other people have it worse. For some people there is no bigger picture than the here and the now. For  most people it is every man for himself. If you won't save yourself, no one will.

To be human is to be self-promoting.

November Book: The Life of Pi by Yann Martel

The story of Pi was that of an ordinary boy of extraordinary faith who went under extraordinary circumstances. It was a story of survival. It was the story of a boy marooned in a lifeboat with a 450-pound Bengal tiger.

At first glance, Pi was like any other young boy I know. He suffered in the hands of school bullies. He was constantly teased by his more popular older brother. He was normally curious about all the things around him. In short, he was not the kind of character that I'd take an interest in or who would leave a lasting impression. He was too normal and I really don't read books for normal daily-life portrayals. However, there was one thing striking about Pi and that was his deep love for God. So much so that he was a practicing Hindu, Catholic and Muslim at the same time. What I loved about the book was the event that happened to him which tested that love. His entire family were to move to Canada. Alas! The cargo ship which bore them sank in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. His whole family perished. He was the only person who survived and, worse, he was trapped in the lifeboat with the only other survivor from the shipwreck: Richard Parker, the tiger. When he was still an impressionable young boy, his father had warned him not to get close to a tiger under any circumstances. But he was trapped. He could either jump overboard the lifeboat, get drowned by the unfriendly waters of the Pacific or get eaten by sharks, whichever comes first, or he could find a way around Richard Parker until they get rescued, which was what he did. For seven long months on high seas.

The Life of Pi was a great story about human faith. When all is lost, when there is nothing left to live for, what makes us cling to life so tenaciously? When we look around and all we see is despair, why struggle with death? The Life of Pi tells us that the reason is faith. When all else fails, it is our faith that would get us through our ordeal. When we are at the deepest pit and we tell ourselves that there is no way in hell we can climb back up, faith tells us to get up and start climbing. And that's exactly what we do. We climb up or die trying. It's amazing what faith can do to a person's life. Even if there is no guarantee that things will get better, we believe that they will. Even if we are defeated and all we want to do is lay down and die, faith grabs on to the last embers of our will to live and absolutely refuses to let it go out. Instead, faith fans it until it glows into a flame again.

Do you have faith?

P.S. This was the book I stole from the cottage I was staying in when I went to Malapascua with some people from work. I have never stolen anything in my life, aside from the occasional lose change from my father's pocket when I was a kid. What pushed me to swipe the book? Could it be faith telling me that this book will give me a new perspective? :-)

All Tricks. No Treats.

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Unfortunately for us Filipinos, we never got to experience what American kids call Treat-or-Treating. Nowadays, malls organize Trick-or-Treats during Halloween where they invite kids to dress in costumes and the participants go together as one group to participating mall boutiques to get treats. So basically, everyone gets a treat and nobody gets tricked.Yeah, I really don't think that counts. I don't even remember anyone calling it Halloween when I was a kid. It was always All Saint's Day and All Soul's Day or Araw ng mga Patay or Todos los Santos or Undas. And the custom was to go to the cemetery and visit the graves of our dead loved ones. We even had to clean up the graves and rid it of overgrown weeds. Other people stay on the cemetery overnight and play cards or drink alcoholic beverages (or both) with their other relatives who are, of course, still alive. What the logic is behind this phenomenon, I have no idea. Maybe it is to show the beloved dead that they are still being remembered. But you can do that just by visiting the graves, right? Why stay overnight, play cards and drink beer? Maybe somehow it sends this message: Hey, dead guy, if you were alive, you'd be playing poker and drinking beer with us. But since you are not, take comfort from the fact that we remember you enough to do it on your grave once a year.

I don't know. If I were dead, I'd probably be smirking at those people and say, "I appreciate your pretense of remembrance, but I'm dead. You, however, are not. So why not worry about yourselves?" (Dead guys, I mean well by this. Please don't do the Lazarus just so that you can smack me on the head.)

Whatever. All I know is that on Halloween, the place to be in the Philippines is at the cemeteries, not on our neighbor's house. In a way, it makes sense. Because if Halloween is defined by Trick-or-Treating on your neighbors, then it's Halloween all year round in the Philippines.

To our beloved dead, please look down upon us with hope and love, not a smirk. (photo source)

Silence

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Like everybody else, I am appalled. I have spoken about it in great lengths with my friends but I feel that I have not said enough. However, words are empty and meaningless and will not change anything. So many things that went wrong, so many things that if were done differently would have made a whole lot of difference. But here, today, I am not gonna dwell on those things. I am not an expert. My views on those things are mere speculations of a passive bystander. Instead, I want to take this time to be silent... silence I want to offer for those who died in the tragedy and for those of us left on its wake.

Life still goes on. But it will never be the same.

It's Steven Spielberg's Fault

Why, oh why, did I watch this movie? Every movie that I see from here on out will be compared to this film and most of them will fail miserably. Damn you, Steven Spielberg! Why didn't you just stick to making movies the like of E.T. and Jaws? Why do you have to go and challenge my perception of what a great movie should be like?

I never would have thought that I would even consider a repulsive movie to be great. Because that is what it was. It was repulsive and scary but I cannot not watch it. There was a part there where, to make room for more Jews from other camps or settlements, the Nazis conducted medical inspection on the existing Jews on the camp and pick out those who look unhealthy so that they will be sent to Auschwitz. The process involved all of the Jews going out to the yards, falling in line and stripping completely naked. They were then made to run around in front of several doctors. The doctors pointed out those who they think were unfit and immediately a guard would grab that person and pull him out of the line. For the Jews, Auschwitz meant certain death so they did whatever they could to avoid being sent there. During these inspections the women had to resort to pricking their fingers to draw blood and use the blood on their lips and cheeks to appear flushed, ergo healthy. It was the most inhuman proceeding that I have ever seen. Imagine what it was like in real life. Damn you, Steven, for shattering the shield of ignorance that had enveloped me my entire life. How can I go on with my blissful existence now that I know... these?

My favorite part in the film, the part that truly broke my heart, was, toward the end, when Oskar was preparing to leave his employees to flee with his wife after the German's were defeated, he started counting how many more Jews he could have saved with the properties that he still had, even if he was basically bankrupt at that point. It didn't matter that he spent his entire fortune to buy and support more than a thousand Jews for seven months. For him, what mattered was he could have saved more but didn't.

After watching the film, with my brain still on Schindler's List overdrive, I googled Oskar which, of course, only made me hate Steven all the more. After the war, Oskar made several attempts to start other businesses, all of which failed. He lost his wife, he lost money and he was living off of donations from Jewish organizations. By the end of his life, he was penniless. Arguably, he was surrounded by friends and family and perhaps the love of all those he had saved. Many would say that this was better than having all that money and pursued by the Allied Forces for being a "profiteer of slave labor". But I wonder, for a man of such ambition and fine finesse as Oskar, was he happy? Did he ever regret that he went and spent his money to buy every single one of his workers instead of going back to his hometown with more money than he can spend his entire lifetime? Are there still Oskar Schindlers left in this world?

Liam Neeson was perfect as Schindler. He certainly had the aura that would convince a Nazi officer to release all those Jews to his care for a certain fee. Ralph Fiennes was even better as Amon Goth. I didn't even recognize him. He was... portly. The Ralph Fiennes I know was from American Patient and, of course, Voldemort, stately and elegant. In this movie, he was a madman who kills on a frenzy, kills for no apparent reason and kills Jews working on the fields for target-shooting practice from his balcony. Then Schindler told him that real power is when you know should kill somebody but you choose to make him live instead. Oh, the struggle he had to go through to gain that kind of power, it was hilarious. I could almost see his face in contortion as he was stopping himself from killing his stable boy.

I am reminded of another film I saw more than a year ago entitled A Beautiful Life starring Roberto Benigni. It was a comedy about the Holocaust, which was ironic. But I ended up laughing and cringing at the same time. I thought it was a great movie. I still do. But compared to Schindler's List, it was a feel-good movie. That's how heavy Schindler is. It is the best movie I ever saw, one of my favorites, but understandably a movie that I would only like to see again after a considerable lapse of time. It has been a week since I saw it and I have yet to recover.

I still hate you, Steven, but thank you for slapping me in the face and making me realize my mediocrity. I owe you big time.

To My Beloved Friend and Minion, Alexis

(My friend Alexis wrote this on her Facebook page. This blog entry is my reply.)

You are right. Day offs are rare gifts. Why do I get this feeling that you spend yours worrying about tomorrow or about the stuff you need to do when you get back to work? You worry too much. You need to relax. If I had a dime every time I tell you this, I'd be a millionaire by now.

You are right. Life is not easy. All of us have some sort of bitterness, regrets, and mistakes. The important thing is we learn from them and move on. Do not let the negative stuff take center-stage.

It is human nature to be uncontented. It is okay to aspire for possessions and a higher status in life. But that should not be your end goal. When we die, we cannot take any of those with us to the after-life.

If you don't like where you are and what you do, you can only do so much. At some point you have to stop and ponder if it is all worth it. Things may not work out but that doesn't necessarily mean a dead end. If you have learned from it then it has served its purpose. Nothing we do is ever pointless, the good or the bad. Unless you just sit in one corner and wait for the day of your death or the apocalypse, whichever comes first. Now, THAT is pointless.

The most important thing in life I believe is to do something which you believe in, something that is worth your time. Not only will your life be productive but when you die and your Creator will ask you what you have been doing with the time He gave to you, you will not be embarrassed with your answer.

Do not wait for things like love, fame and success to happen to you. Make them happen. And if they don't happen, cheer up, it's not the end of the world. There are other things in life that can make you happy, like your family, friends and work. Like everything else in this world, happiness is a choice. It has to be a conscious effort on your part and no, you cannot find that in another person especially if you are not happy with yourself.

Indeed, you are lucky. Your family loves you. We, your friends, love you just as much. I know you will continue to worry. It's one of the things you do well. It's one of the things we love about you. It's one of the things that make you you. But don't overdo it. Wrinkles are never in fashion. Always remember, however deep the pit that you may be in at any given time, some people have it worse. Some people die miserable. As long as you are alive, you have a better chance of getting yourself out of that shithole and die happy.

More importantly, what makes you really lucky, is that you have me. Your semi-perfect deity of a friend who is willing to go out on a limb to give you decent advice. Understand that this is non-compulsory. You may read this and not follow it, if you wish. Though I strongly advice against that because I know I am right and I would totally hate to see this blog space go to waste.

I am kidding, of course. A little.

Now, if I could only learn to follow my own advices, I'd be in better shape than I am today in all respects. But I guess that's just not how it works.

I See Dead People

No, I do not mean that literally. God forbid if I start doing so. You probably need to take that as a sign of an impending apocalypse. I am digressing here since this is not the main topic of this blog entry. But for the sake of satisfying the curiosity of my faithful readers (a grand total of 2 persons), let me explain.

I do not believe that dead people walk among us. There is no metaphysical, paranormal or parapsychological explanation for this, just a logical one. Even if dead people have the option to remain on earth to haunt the living, as good as that sounds, I don't think that they are inclined to chose that option. The world is over-populated enough as it is. There is just not enough room for them anymore. And because, unlike the dead, the living do not have the option to go elsewhere other than this planet (Mars is not yet open for occupancy), it is more likely that dead people take the high road and choose the more suitable place for themselves. Or if they don't get to chose, as the case may be, I still think that any place other than with the living is the more acceptable option.

Let me elaborate. Not a lot of people go to heaven. It is probably this really huge and beautiful place where your closest neighbor lives in another zip code, or perhaps in another time zone. Who doesn't want to go there? As for hell, there might be a long line leading into that place but Dante said that there are 9 circles, one for each sin, and I highly doubt that any of them are full. Why else would Lucifer be wanting more people to go to hell? I'm sure it's not because he doesn't have a choice. If there is anything that Lucifer has in abundance, it would be choices. So if you go to hell, you will be put in one of those circles to suffer for your sins. If that doesn't seem like a good way to spend the rest of your eternal life, that's because it isn't. But think of it this way, you will be among the dead who share your, uhm, passion. And with the number of occupants in each circle there and more coming, you'll have enough stories to share for the rest of your damnation. Hey, it'll be like one endless Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

If I die right now and go straight to hell, I probably wouldn't find this funny so I should just stop right now. But that's my explanation for not believing that there are dead people with us. Of course, you have to understand that I am not going to say that out loud even if you pay me. There is always that far off chance that I am wrong and that they are indeed here and can hear every single word we say. I don't want to challenge them into making a believer out of me. That would be a tragedy. Or a comedy, depending on which side you are on. In the even more unlikely chance that they also read blogs, there are only two things I can say.

Number 1: I am possessed and not myself, therefore I do not remember writing this.
Number 2 (in case the ghosts don't believe number 1): Oh, crap.

Since my digression has already taken up the amount of time I tolerate for writing nonsense, let me offer this short explanation for my original idea for this entry. I see dead people figuratively. People who are alive but are living a dying life. People who are just going through the motions of living but, deep inside, are really dead. They do not know how it feels like to be truly alive. I realize that this sounds so "The Greatest Miracle in the World" by Og Mandino. But it is true. And since I am no ragpicker, I cannot do anything for these people. I can only hope that I am not one of them.

Random Memory # 1

Two decades ago, I walked by myself to school. My mother would give me P1 for snacks and I would use this to buy a huge steaming bowl of benignit during recess time. Take note, the operative term is huge. I swear I could drown in that bowl. But I loved it. It was the highlight of my day. During lunchtime, I would walk back home and, after an hour, walk back to school for my afternoon classes. All this walking I do under the glaring heat of the sun as even when I was still young, I refused to carry an umbrella.

Nowadays, you will never be able to find anything you can buy for P1. Last time I checked, a benignit in a puny plastic cup now costs P5. And I mean puny because it is just a little more than a shot glass.

I still refuse to carry an umbrella but, except on the beach with tons of sunscreen, I no longer brave the sun's heat after 10am. Are you kidding? I do not want to die of heatstroke. That would be a very lousy way to go. I'd rather jump out of a tall building, preferably with a huge crowd and media coverage, for maximum effect.