COMFORT ROOM

Funny
How this
toilet
has become
my sanctuary
when i reflect
how much
of a less
noble character
I am.
No, not funny.
How proper
that this
toilet
should be here
so that I might pour out
tears
Reflecting
How much
Failure
I have become.
The toilet bowl
stays strong
supporting
while i crouch
dejected
And this roll of tissue
continues
Available.
The door stays
Closed
that I might be left
Alone.
I cry.
The waste of my soul
Disposed.
I am heard.
I am comforted.

Sometimes I would slip into the library and give myself a reading of Time or Newsweek. I had enjoyed much of these "escapes" and though I am reading mostly "history" as the issues arrive much later than the dates printed on the covers... they were still worthwhile reads. I am, afterall, reading them not because of the the information or analysis eck. Truth does not have to come in glossy pages. Instead, I read them as literary journals.... I was reading much of the prose and the poetry.....more than the fact. Here are some favorites:

".... I savored her sorrowful voice, felt the ca - chunking rythm of the wheels in my bones, the echo Thomas Wolfe called the sound of forever, and looked outside to see whom I could say hello and goodbye forever all at once. A young soldier huddled by a cooking fire. I waved. He flipped me off." - Mike Meyer, "Immigrant's Song," Time, August 19 - 26, 2002.


"...As the train eased into Moscow, the conductor pulled me aside. He'd also been silently worrying. 'Listen, little brother,' he said, placing his arms on my shoulder. 'Be careful. You're a foreigner here. A tourist. It's not safe. Don't drink too much.' I remembered him putting me to bed the night before. 'Germans can drink. Mongolians can drink. You ar nor German or Mongolian.'
'But what about.....'
'Her?' The conductor chuckled, looking to Miss Zhou. 'She's Chinese. She'll be fine.' The train shuddered to a stop. We stepped from it into the world. A pair of kindly looking aunties greeted Miss Zhou by name. She waved goodbye and walked with them, toting her little bag, chattering happily in Chinese. I stood alone on the platform, wondering where I was." - Mike Meyer, "Immigrant's Song"

"Every piece of duckweed floats down to the sea; People will always meet each other somewhere." - "Journey to the West", Time, August 19 - 26, 2002.

"A day in the life of Africa," Newsweek, October 21, 2002

VISIT

For a while
It was delightful
That you have
seen
heard
tasted
What I have
seen
heard
tasted.
For a while
It was delightful
To blabber
In a language I know
and understand.
This strange new land
Did not seem strange
Anymore
Than I felt new.
And I am home
For a while.

TERMINAL

There are yet stories
Waiting to be told
Feet shuffle
Awkward
Seats wait
Lonely.
Time does not.
Time approaches
Baggages carried
Or tugged along.
The stories wait still
Untold.
Maybe next time
When the bus arrives.
Time comes
The bus leaves.

Ender's Game
Nebula and Hugo Award Winner
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From its first publication in January 1985, Ender's Game quickly became a classic in the science fiction field. It was greeted enthusiastically by the Science Fiction Writers of America, which gave it the Nebula Award for best novel of 1985, and the 1986 World Science Fiction Convention awarded Ender's Game the best novel Hugo. (What really stunned everyone was the following year, when the sequel, Speaker for the Dead, also won both awards -- something no author had ever done before, still less for a book and its sequel!)

While Card has gone on to win other awards (two more Hugos, a World Fantasy Award, and in 1996 the Locus Award for Best Fantasy Novel of the year for his book Alvin Journeyman), Ender's Game continues to be his most popular novel, capturing the imagination of children, teenagers, and adults. Ender's Game has been translated into French, German, Spanish, Japanese, Dutch, Czech, Danish, Finnish, Hebrew, Hungarian, Italian, Polish, Portuguese, Romanian, Russian, and Swedish.

Why does the story work so well? Many people call it "the science fiction novel for people who don't think they like science fiction." While the trappings of science fiction are there -- spaceships, aliens, futuristic machinery -- the reason the book works for so many people is that it's first and foremost a human story, of a boy who finds the burdens of the world placed on his back. Isolated and alone, his anguish resonates in the hearts of all readers.

Yes, kids who read the book really enjoy the whole idea of the Battle School, a three-dimensional playspace where children in special suits have mock combats between armies. Others are intrigued by the military aspects of the book. When the Marine University at Quantico required students in one class to read Ender's Game, it wasn't for the strategy -- tactics in 3D space aren't really a big deal for the Marines. Rather, it was because Ender's Game is virtually a textbook in how to develop a strong relationship between a commander and his troops -- with plenty of examples also in how to fail as a commander.

Other people -- especially in the online community -- love Ender's Game because of the powerful role it shows for computer networks in the world of the future. The Internet has taken a few steps in the direction shown by Ender's Game, but we're still a long way from a time when public discourse takes place primarily on the Internet and e-discussions can influence public policy. So Ender's Game is still a dream.

Yet others find the "Mind Game" most appealing. This is the computer game that students in the Battle School play, allowing their teachers to evaluate their emotional state. Ender, however, forces the computer to reprogram itself to allow him to play the game in new, unpredictable ways. The whole idea of a self-altering game that responds to the needs and desires of the player still intrigues many -- though Card has still not been able to persuade any computer game publishers to develop a self-creating game!

Above all, though, Ender's Game is the story of growing up alone, trying to find independence when none is allowed, trying to find meaning in a life whose meaning has already been defined. Almost everyone has at some time felt himself or herself to be in the same kind of no-win situation as Ender Wiggin, and the triumph of the book is not that Ender Wiggin "wins," but that he grows up along the way.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Copyright � 1985 Orson Scott Card

A Tor Book - Published by Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.

Jacket art by John Harris - Jacket design by Carol Russo
http://www.frescopictures.com/movies/ender/enderbook.html

Only Hope

by Switchfoot
From the movie "A Walk to Remember"

There's a song that's inside of my soul
It's the one that I've tried to write
over and over again
I'm awake and in the infinite cold
But You sing to me over and over and
over again

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands
And pray to be only Yours
I pray to be only Yours
I know now You're my only hope

Sing to me of the song of the stars
Of Your galaxy dancing and laughing
and laughing again
When it feels like my dreams are so far
Sing to me of the plans that You have
for me over again

I give you my destiny
I'm giving You all of me
I want Your symphony
Singing in all that I am
At the top of my lungs I'm giving it back

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands
And pray to be only yours
I pray to be only yours
I pray to be only yours
I know now you're my only hope

www.switchfoot.com/walk_to_remember.html

You ask me of autumn?
It is a loveletter,
unfolding.
Like a cupful
of emotions
all stirred
and drank
such that each bitter
and sweet
wraps each tastebud.
It is stretching
your hands to rain
pouring
but only within.
It is closing your eyes
So that the wind
can touch
every patch of skin.
It is opening your eyes
So that your soul
can embrace
colors
swirling.
It is a loveletter
read and folded
and kept
Where treasures hide.
You ask me of autumn?
Beautiful.....
Autumn is.
26 October 2002

If I had not met you
at Babel
I would have asked
your name
How you're feeling
or what you've done
The day before
I would have asked
What you think
is beautiful
I would have asked
Why you thik it so
I would have asked you
Some thousand little questions
I would have asked
Who you are...

If I had not met you
at Babel
I would have told you
How fine the weather is
I would have told you
About the news I read
the day before
and how I felt about them
I would have told you
What I thought was beautiful
And why I think them so
I would have told you
Some thousand little things
I would have told
Who I am.

If we had not met
at Babel.

The fountains that sustain us
are not always quiet
Sometimes they rustle like streams
or fall like rain
But we are refreshed
just the same
13 june 2002

7/9/2002 12:17:03 AM

Warning: This is a little long.

Getting the Scarlet Fever

I'm seeing red. Literally.

There's a fever going on around me and it's infectious. Symptoms include a throbbing of the heart and subsequent frenzied jumping and rising of hands and ear splitting screaming. It is not particular to any age group (yes, I think event he babies have it) but occurs most prominently at certain times. The symptoms subside after a while but resurge and increase at each recurrence. It�s called soccer and I�m hit.

There�s a drama in the World Cup that you appreciate, and you could actually look beyond the blatant commercialization that comes with it. Amazing really how a game can actually be the passion of nations, I�m actually wondering why the Philippines is not into it. Makes you feel left out a little. I was smacked right on the face one time when I said the sport Filipinos love is basketball, to which another Asian responded, �But you don�t do well,?not a little gently.

The first time I was probably introduced to soccer was around five years ago when a classmate�s boyfriend reportedly talked about nothing else but soccer. They broke up because of that. And the only people I saw playing soccer in the park fields during the weekends had skin colors other than brown, and spoke languages other than Filipino or any of the dialects. Then there was a time when some attention was given to ?/SPAN>Baguio�s Lady Soccer team?because they won in some national event or something and yet they were not given the necessary financial and moral support. When I was asked what the Philippines?FIFA ranking was, I sheepishly replied that soccer is not very popular in the Philippines and that I don�t think the Philippines has ever competed in the FIFA. But I do quickly add that the Filipinos are good in boxing, bowling, and billiards. Nice try, though.

Soccer history is pretty complicated but the nice thing about the game is its Asian roots, or at least the presence of similar games played long, long (as in 3rd century B.C., in China) before the rest of the world were even aware of the sport, although the eventual formalization and organization of the game as an international sport was initiated by the Brits and the other Europeans. After the establishment of a ruling body in 1904, which is the FIFA (Federation Internationale de Football Association), and the usual meetings and papers and all those stuff involved in making an organization that followed, the first World Cup (which is the FIFA�s world championship games) was opened at the Centenary Stadium in Montevideo (Uruguay) on July 18, 1930. This was after soccer was played in Olympics and the audience response was a blast. �A new epoch had begun for world football,?so says the FIFA�s official website. Now there are 204 member associations, of course representing 204 countries from Afghanistan to Zimbabwe. It turned out the Philippines is a member of FIFA, since 1928. The Philippine Football Association (I�m not really sure if that�s the official name) was founded 1907. Of course, we (yes, I�m including you) are virtually clueless about that, as if we cared.



So this is my first World Cup, in a sense, because I don�t remember ever watching it before in my entire life. And I like it for many reasons. One is its historical value. This is the first time it is ever to be staged in Asia and the first time that it is to be hosted by two countries. More significantly, Korea and Japan has been rivaling each other for centuries. It�s pretty funny how aversive some Koreans are to anything Japanese. Funny, though how the government makes efforts for the Japanese to come visit their tourist sites. Anyway, everybody (except probably us) made a big deal out of the World Cup being staged here in Asia. Korea and Japan spent a lot of taxpayers?money to make stadiums and do the necessary training and precautions against probable terrorist attacks or plain rowdy fan behavior. Interesting though how some journalists noted the difference in attitude between the two countries. One journalist said Korea was welcoming the world with arms open wide (providing all sort of things that would be foreigner friendly), while Japan seems to be tightening up its defenses (like policemen being shown in TV conducting mock situations of handling terrorists). There were other stuff written, and I�m just plain amused of the Korea-Japan rivalry. When the Japanese team got themselves successfully through the elimination round, Korea was about to face a game that should also let them pass through (into the group of 16 ?there were 32 countries, total). One Korean girl I know said that Korea must get into the group of 16. Why it should be a must was because Japan got through. If Japan didn�t make it, then it would also have been okay to be eliminated.



Not a lot of people (who knew soccer) were actually expecting much from the Japanese and Korean teams. It turns out they automatically qualify for the World Cup just because they are host countries. When both teams were able to get themselves through the quarterfinals, people paid a little bit more attention. Now at this point, I don�t know much about Japan anymore, but the Koreans has got themselves crazy over their national team. Each winning game seemed to make them crave for more when the next game comes. It sure is a delight watching a team ranked #40 in the world beating the #1 ranker. So while the Korean team raged on, beating the biggies, the cheering got louder and louder and more and more in unison. The Korean fan base dressed themselves in the Korean team�s color. And now you know why I�m seeing red.



The people position themselves in front of giant TV screens in parks and other public places in numbers that would put to shame the number of people who went to EDSA (even if you put all three EDSAs together). Funny, again, when you compare the number to voter turn �out in their recently concluded local elections (the highest votes I saw for a mayor was around 4, 000, considering that of the hundreds of thousands of people gathered in a park, the lowest estimate you could give is probably 40% of them are eligible voters, and they even have a system where you can vote through the internet). A ball game unites a nation, politics divides it.



So I like the fans too. I like all the passion, and how infectious it is. I like the revelry without having to read news of violence or crime the day after. I like the intensity of emotions and the return to reason after the shouting and dancing?and the crying too.



I like the teams. I like the players, the coaches, even the referees. I like the stadiums, too. (I�m not going to details anymore, although there�s a lot to tell, because I�ve noticed this kwento is already running four pages). I like the game.



But most of all, I like the World Cup because of the manifestations of faith that I have seen. What else could it be when you see more than 7 million people in one place believing their team will win, fearlessly waving banners of score forecasts. It was not just a mere crossing of fingers. It was stating things as if they were, even if they have not happened. The most touching images I saw in the World Cup were not only players and fans crying and hugging each other after a won or lost game, but also of players, superstars in their own right, who have fallen on their knees to pray, oblivious to the crowd or the omnipotent flashing and rolling cameras. I must have said my own praises when I saw champions flaunting shirts that proclaim faith to the God I also believe in.



During the Brazil ?Germany championship game, a banner read, �God is Brazilian.?Funny, He probably is. Brazil won the World Cup this year.



The fever�s going to have some after effects even after the closing ceremonies are over. Japan and Korea will still probably remain as rivals but they�ll get a place in world history for a good job in hosting a great game. When the next World Cup comes, who knows what surprises it can also bring? So I�m a soccer fan now and I�m actually looking forward to Germany 2006.



Kaja! (Korean, �let�s go!?





[7/9/2002 12:03:56 AM]
sometimes you wonder whether you've already met 'the one' only you've been too preoccupied with other things to notice.. and you end up feeling, that maybe, you have just missed out that one chance of never having to look again. Is it the beating of the heart, on its own, that we must wait for? Or is it all a matter of will. How many times these questions have been asked, and yet they are asked yet again.
So here we are again, me and myself, longing for the presence of another.... yet not knowing who.
I welcome my aloneness once again.... for there shall be no room for being lonely.


[6/15/2002 5:02:47 PM ]
how do you do this thing?




8/31/2002 6:11:41 PM ]
My sneakers got wet today, for the first time probably in six months. Now this is rain. You get all wet and soggy and you fight with the wind for control over a pitiful object supposedly called an umbrella. You can actually hear the pattering while raindrops fall. I rode the bus coming home and funny how all the people inside looked the same ?all dark and gloomy. It is, after all a storm. The wind whooshes and the leaves fall. It�s a great day to be sad. Yet while it rains, the soul comes home happy.



[9/19/2002 11:53:43 PM ]
crackling, my neck.

the day's been much too hard.

heavy, my eyes

and my whole body aches.

But I smile.

I've got mail.



[9/18/2002 12:21:13 AM ]
I would have laughed
While the train chugged along
Ang the week's darn affairs
Become silent like people
Looking out of windows while
Rain falls.
What a ride it must have been.


[9/17/2002 12:00:10 AM ]
The muses leave
There shall be no prompting
For the pen
The mind has not wandered
The hands shall not be busy

But the heart thirsts
For the things of the soul
And the spirit yearns
To dance among dreams

Yet the muses do not return
The poet in his aloneness
Holds the pen
But not the words
The poem remains
Unwritten.



[9/13/2002 1:08:51 PM ]
Autumn's coming...

pretty soon pretty leaves

falling,

Like scattered thoughts,

gathered,

Touching earth

and understood.




[8/31/2002 6:02:41 PM ]
The soul gleefully
Stretches out
To a pattering shower
Of rain
And while the world
Sulks around its corners
The spirit plays along
With the wind
Coming here and there
And all around



[7/12/2002 10:49:20 AM ]
WEAVER

You have quite successfully
bound
twigs and threads,
shadows and light.

From a dead branch
rises an eagle
and a fluttering butterfly.

I see.

17 May 2002



[7/11/2002 11:12:22 PM ]
What did I just miss?
A spray of wind,
falling of leaves,
a ray of light.

It is not fair
that the rain
should cease
when the seed has
just sprung up from the ground.
It is not the time
for a drought,
when the sower has just planted.
Yet, the clouds cease to darken.

And I am left.

[7/9/2002 12:43:09 AM ]
Welcome, me,
welcome, muses,
welcome, loves,
welcome, magic,
welcome, you.