Final Word on the Da Vinci Code

A lot of people have said their piece. I would have opted to stay a silent spectator to this pretending-to-be-religious rollercoaster if not for my temper. Besides, what kind of a writer am I if I would not do my share in plucking out the truth?

Here’s what I have to say:

The Da Vinci Code controversy is not more than a blasphemy to the Christian faith than it is a blasphemy to our being. A movie based on a self-confessed fictitious book being banned in cinemas and even in one city, people out in the streets protesting against fiction, a bestseller being burned just to make a statement, empty arguments among conservatives—I don’t think those are signs that we deserve the faith we pretend to defend.

The Da Vinci Code, contrary to what people have been ranting about, is not a test of our faith but rather a test of our intellect. With the way our leaders and so-called elders, together with a number of “active” youth, react against it, we seem to have flunked the test. We manage to display how much of a baby we are. By doing so, we have just insulted the highly complex mental faculties God blessed us with.


No wonder we are having a hard time moving towards anywhere near progress. We can barely keep a mature mind, let alone an open one, to something which from the start has been declared fiction. Dan Brown said it. Try opening the book. You need not go far to see Dan Brown’s disclaimer. I bet majority of the people dipping their toes in this issue have not read any part the book. They have ripped its pages, burned the cover, and, in the process, wasted their money and energy. Then they added to the flame of their wrath pirated VCD and DVD copies of The Da Vinci Code movie. They might as well have thrown in all pirated discs while they were at it. Edu Manzano would.

We have seen people, active church individuals who are not necessarily priests or nuns, being interviewed on television. Yes they are passionate for their cause but do they sound like they know what they are talking about? No! Because obviously they have not read the book nor have they seen the film. Someone just told them that there is this movie based on some book which challenges the divinity of their god. That is when they panicked. That is when they forgot that, if indeed the devotion of their followers were strong, it will take more than a book or a movie to strip them off of their faith.

I, for one, am more predisposed to lose my faith inside the Church than in front of any form of entertainment. I remember watching The Last Temptation of Christ when I was a child. I cannot recall why I was allowed to see it but I saw it anyway. The said movie presents a more detailed, not to mention a more graphic portrayal of Jesus’ life and relationship with Mary Magdalene. Even with a minor’s level of understanding, I never ended up doubting Jesus’ divinity or questioned my religion. I did not have to hit the age of majority to be able to grasp that what I saw had nothing to do with my faith, that it was just a movie.

Yes, you will seldom see me in Church nowadays, probably even less than seldom. Witnessing the so-called “servants of the Lord” (again, this phrase is not exclusive to those belonging to the religious order) do things which I know their lord would not approve of explains my absence in the religion I was baptized into.

I can hardly understand why “conservatives” are reacting rather late to Dan Brown’s work. The book had been out a year ago, maybe even earlier. It had been a bestseller since then. Meaning it has already reached many people—those who could afford to buy the book, those who had connections to acquire the book even temporarily, and those who had someone willing to share with them the story contained in the book. That is quite a network of our people! It looks like the anti-Da Vinci Coders have not been hanging out in bookstores in the past year or so. Then again, they may be one of those who would rather watch than read thus explaining their underdeveloped brains.

It is such a waste of time and energy debating over Dan Brown’s work. He does not deserve all these attention. First, he is not that good a writer. He may get a star for his flair in cliff-hanging but that is it. Second, The Da Vinci Code is not really an original idea on his part. It was even rumored that another author is suing him of plagiarism. And third, he simply is not worthy. After reading Dan Brown last year, I thought of him as a coward, pushing “his ideas” to the edge then retracting his balls in the end. Dan Brown himself is afraid to commit blasphemy that he sacrificed the conclusion of his story to save his “soul.”

Read the book. See the movie. And laugh at Dan Brown as he takes everything back, everything our leaders, so-called elders, conservatives, and “active” youth are crying against. Only then will you be worthy to say your piece.

COMMENTS

and i never heard the shortsighted hypocrites protest about the jurrassic park books and movies and the possible evilness of cloning prehistoric creatures which god has deemed expendable and should be wiped out extinct via meteorite crash.
tsk tsk.
Posted by: Poli | June 12, 2006 08:14 AM

As what i have always pointed out to my fellow christians, the da vinci code must be viewed as a form of entertainment not as a theology. that is cut and dried.
Posted by: Adam | July 2, 2006 05:45 PM

X-men III: The Last Stand…or is it?

This I tell you: Blessed is he who sits through the closing credits in honor of the production staff and crew for he shall be rewarded.

BLOGGER’S NOTE: DO NOT GO BEYOND THIS POINT IF YOU PLAN TO SEE THE MOVIE BUT FOR SOME REASON HAVEN’T. THE FOLLOWING TEXTS ARE BLANTANT SPOILERS AS MUCH AS THEY ARE MY SO-CALLED REVIEW.

HERE WE GO…

X-men III: The Last Stand is not for the faint of heart. The two previous X-men movies will not prepare you for Scott, The Professor, and Jean’s death. (Yes, Jean dies again and unless she does not turn off the Phoenix in her, I hope that her death is for good this time around.) Nor will they prime you enough on how brutal mutant-human war can get. I never really like wars so a war with multiple superhuman “talents” involved is a bit too much for me to handle. Mutants having seizures who end up powerless, humans disintegrating to thin air—those are a bit too much for me. Wolverine’s tush tight in his black leather tights though—that I can handle.

The movie brings us back 20 years before the not too distant future where a walking Charles Xavier (The Professor) and a headgearless Eric Lehnsherr (Magneto), despite the differences in their opinions, still hang out together. They visit an extra special mutant—probably the only class 5 mutant they know—Jean Grey. (Magneto is a class 3 so you can just imagine how great a class 5 probably is.)

Fast forward to ten years before the not too distant future where we see a little boy desperately attempting to stop his mutation. He cries as he apologizes to his dad for his being a mutant. A kid sincerely saying sorry for something not his fault simply pinches my heart. Then seeing him hurt because of it makes me want to cry. His case later pushes his dad to come up with the mutant cure, thus the main ingredient of the third X-men movie.

Now we go to the present. Life went on after X-men 2 in the Professor’s mansion except for Scott Summers who was an utter mess to say the least. (I say this with Simon Cowell’s accent). I refuse to refer to him as Cyclops because he never lives to wear his Cyclops suit. He accidentally resurrects Jean Grey who, after lip-locking with him, extinguishes his optical powers and, as assumed, extinguishes his life too. There goes the first tomb.

Meanwhile the supposedly non anti-mutant President conspires with science to cure all mutants. He does this behind the back of his mutant diplomat ally, Hank McCoy a.k.a. The Beast or fur ball. See the danger posed by argumentum ad ignoranciam. Everyone assumed that the president was pro-mutants simply because he is not anti-mutants—a very dangerous logical fallacy we must learn from the movie. It is therefore important to remember that if a future presidential candidate declares that s/he is pro-poor, it does not follow that s/he is NOT anti-poor. It is possible that s/he is pro-poor and anti-poor all at the same time.

Then we witness young love among Marie (Rouge), Bobby (Iceman), and Kitty (Shadow Cat)—probably for a breath of fresh air as Paula Abdul might put it. Rouge has problems with not being able to touch her boyfriend, Bobby. On the other hand, Bobby (Blooper: I just typed “Booby”) goes out of his way to be extra sweet with new X Mansion resident, Kitty. Rogue renounces her mutant powers by taking the cure not for some boy, she says, but for herself, she likes to believe. Anyway if it doesn’t work with that “some boy”, she can snag another especially now that she no longer is a mutant-power/human-life sponge.

Back to the story. Professor X tries to convince Jean to suppress her subconscious (I can hear Sigmund Freud say, “Duh!”) while Magneto plays the Devil’s advocate. The professor’s effort to guide Jean opposite the dark side enrages her powerful subconscious self leading to her second kill. Hence the second tomb. Surprisingly, even Magneto was shocked with the Professor’s disintegration.

I swear, Jean creeps me out every time she’s angry! She looks possessed! I was waiting for her to say in the American twang, “Papatayin ko siya!” If that happens, I don’t think John Constantine will come to the rescue. He must have retired the day he saved his soul. Besides that’s another movie.

Magneto builds his army against humans and keeps Jean as his unstable weapon of mass destruction. The war is waged. Mutants were bombarded with syringes-full of the mutant cure. If I were in the middle of that war, I would have lost consciousness at the sight of numerous syringes. But that’s me. Humans were effortlessly obliterated by Jean who would rather be called, Phoenix. At that point you can cry, “Asteeeg!” then subtly return to the good guys’ side

The war made heroes out of the formerly depicted weak, Storm; the reluctant, Wolverine; the peace-lover, The Beast; the cool boyfriend (of course he couldn’t be prefixed with “two-timing”—what would you expect from a male dominated production?), Iceman; the persistent, Shadow Cat; and the mute (he’s mute isn’t he?), Colossus. However it was Wolverine, of course, who shinned in the end. Again, he did this with the help of his team. After officially taking side, the X-men’s side, he finally realized his need to work with a team. He even emphasized this in the X Mansion, after suiting up for the war. His saying “we are the X-men” bothered me though—in a Brokeback-kind of way.

Wolverine carries the burden of choosing between the lesser evil and ends up killing the love of his life, thus delivering us the third tomb. I have to note that Wolverine being stripped off of his X-men suit while going face to face with the furious Phoenix is inarguably VERY organic in the movie. The script simply calls for him to show his nicely-buffed bod.

Wolverine carries out his task and no matter how hard that may be for him, he can get consolation in the thought that it was Jean’s will, she smiled after he stuck his claws in her gut, the world is safe, and he is alive. We all know that he is going to be OK because, as Scott said, Wolverine heals fast.

The world rotates with less mutants after the war. Other than the mutants contained in the three tombs, the roster of no-longer-mutants include a big fraction of Magneto’s army, Mystique who risked her life for Magneto but to no avail, and the big magenta man himself, Magneto. The movie leaves us breathless, not to mention sleepless, by showing us that Magneto is training for non-metal magnetism and that there is hope for The Professor—the reward in my self-formulated beatitude.

I am an X-men fan so I don’t question the characters’ fashion. They can wear capes in public or helmets or queer scarves or screaming costumes and I wouldn’t care. I would let the unpolished special effects pass, the glitch in time, and whatever hackneyed lines the characters dropped. I like the story and I like the movie.

I do assert however that The Last Stand gets away with the typical fault of trilogies. It manages to preserve its magic even up to the last minute. It succeeds in offering abundance in climaxes leaving the viewers glued and, again, breathless in their seats.

I am very much partial to the principle the movie is working on—discrimination and power. I like the way it shows how both the D and P words affect relationships among friends, families and, ok, lovers. I appreciate how much such truthful theme is imbedded in what may probably be today’s fiction and tomorrow’s facts. I admire the cast from Magneto to that guy holding the water hose in the Grey neighborhood. As I have stated I am a fan.

My final word? Bitin!

Although the three tombs may represent a goodbye to the three X-men movies, I wouldn’t mind an X-men 4: The Final Last Stand, or perhaps, a Bi-ag ni Wolverine spin-off.

COMMENTS

dhel last full show ang pinanood namin.. wala ng patience pang hintayin na matapos ang credits, di na namin nakita ang "reward".. bakit kse late ko na namang nabasa ang blog mo?
miss you sis!
Posted by: Win and Wah | May 29, 2006 06:33 AM

habang pinapalutang ni Jean ang mga cars sa neighborhood nya si Stan Lee (writer at creator ng XMen) ay nagdidilig ng halaman, habang si Christopher Claremont (longtime and major writer of the Xcomics)ay naglo lawnmower.
Magneto's powers may be stronger - he seems to have begun to retain them - the drug's effects may not be as permanent as its makers believe.
does Bobby come across as two timing? i think he was just being nice to the kid (who seems younger than he is, which lessens the possibility of romance?)
Posted by: Poli | June 12, 2006 08:08 AM

Hehehe. Lalaki talaga!
Nice, Bobby! Nice.
Posted by: Tyrene | June 16, 2006 06:29 AM

Wag po muna, Lord

Lord, Isang buwan na lang 26 na ako. Baka naman doon Nyo pa ako maisipang kunin. Wag naman sana. Minsan may nagtanong sa akin kung anong sasabihin ko sa Inyo para makatawad pa ng oras sa mundo--extra life kung baga. Eto po. Nagprepare ako ng list. Wag Nyo po muna akong kukunin…

...dahil hindi pa po ako nagkakaboyfriend. (Hindi naman ‘to masyado straight to the point?!? At ang underlying meaning: may plano palang magkajowa ang battik!so hindi pala ako tibo. hehe)

...dahil di ko pa rin po memorize ang bagong mystery ng rosary…yun pong…(isip)…(di maisip)…kita Nyo na, di ko pa alam ang tawag!

...dahil po mauubos na lang ang mga puno, di pa rin ako nakakaakyat sa kahit isa man lang.

...sapagkat ayaw kong mamatay nang di nakakakita ng firefly. (Pasensya na. Di ko maalala kung anong Filipino ng “firefly”)

...Lord, wag naman po. Not until may masayang ngiti sa mukha ko--yung kapareho ng ngiting dulot ng pag-intern ko sa GMA at lalo na nung natsambahan ko ang Youngblood.

…wala pa po akong passport. Baka di po ako papasukin pag lipad ko dyan sa taas. Ayaw ko po sa baba…mainit!

…di ko pa po napapa-footspa ang mommy ko.

…may aattendan pa akong kasal sa December. Minsan lang po ako makakapag-gown. Pagbigyan Nyo na.

…di ko pa nakikita si Mickey Mouse, Jude Law, Cheche Lazaro, at Bob Ong in person.

...di ko pa po nasusulat ang libro/play/script na magpapayaman sa aming lahi.

...marami pa pong tao akong kinauutangan ng loob (tama ba ‘yon? Utang na loob!) Ayaw ko naman pong mag-perish ng di bayad. Kahit pay it forward man lang po sana.

...di pa po magaling ang kapatid ko. Heaven forbid, pero back up supply ng dugo rin po ako.

...di ko pa po napapascan yung grad pic ko.

...di ko pa po nareredeem ang SM Advantage at Laking National points ko.
...di ko pa po nababasa ang buong bible or least yung new testament man lang. Baka magka-graded recitation jan sa taas. Ayaw ko pong mapa-remain standing.

...hayaan Nyo po munang mailibre ko ang aking pamilya sa isang bonggang outing sa beach.

...di ko pa po na-cocompile ang lahat ng mga nasulat ko na. Paano na ang Memoirs of a Battik?

...kasabay nyan, di pa po ako tapos sa College scrapbook ko. Magdadalawang taon na po akong nagtatrabaho pero gusto ko pa rin po sanang matapos yung scrapbook ko.

...wala pa po akong nagagawang kabutihan sa sang katauhan. Sayang naman ang buhay ko kung puro pagpapa-cute lang ang nasa record ko.

...hindi pa po ako umaabot ng 200lbs. Plano ko pong patunayan na ang fatten-up program ko ang pinaka successful diet program there is.

...sayang naman po itong blog ko. Sino na lang ang magmemaintain?

...baka po sa iba ako mapunta, di Nyo na ako makita. Mababawasan po ang mga form of entertainment Nyo.

...wala pa po akong last will and testament. Di ko pa nadedecide kung kanino ko ihahabilin ang maroon Parker pen ko.

...hindi pa po ako sikat.

...wala pa akong draft ng magiging seven last words ko.

...marami pa po akong nakikitang dahilan kung bakit gust kong mabuhay. Di ko lang po maisip yung iba. Kung hahayaan Nyo pa po akong tumambay nang matagal, makakaasa po Kayong masusupply-an ko pa Kayo ng ganitong level ng dahilan.

I thank You.

COMMENTS

tye, alitaptap
pero yung bagong misteryo ng rosaryo e hindi ko din alam.
Posted by: Nikka | May 19, 2006 10:13 PM

fatten up program? WAAAAG!!!
Posted by: Kate | June 3, 2006 09:17 PM

*cough* barbecue *cough* barbeque
Posted by: Ody | June 9, 2006 08:18 AM

the new Rosary Mysteries are the Scrumptididdly Mysteries and the Fantabuloustacular Mysteries.
two more reasons not to recite the already too-long rosary.
Posted by: Poli | June 12, 2006 08:11 AM

Aba patok talaga ang pag sarili ang ginawang joke.
...4 comments...ayos ha!
Posted by: Tyrene | June 16, 2006 06:58 AM

What Technology Can Do To You

Let’s see if I can come up with anything in front of a laptop. You decide if technology inspired me or frightened me…

Hmmm…

There is something about being an adult that seems to suck most of the time. Others view it as a privilege—a big chunk of the so-called freedom we gain as soon as we hit our twenties with a diploma at hand. It is called “decision making.”

With the most recent turnover of events in my life, even I cannot deny that I have been exercising my freedom in a less than wise, probably even rational way. Apparently, I don’t have to become president to commit a series of blatant and embarrassing lapse in judgment.

And my mistakes don’t come in handy especially in a time when I am out to prove that I am taking my life seriously, that I am in charge, and that I am finally trying to grow up.

No irony there. I was never really a celebrated achiever. I come close to my hastily established goals and unconsciously (I hope not consciously) shy away from them more than once. Destiny seems to conspire against my efforts to change—to achieve something good, for a change. To make the people that matter to me proud.

I am trying to work my way out of my self-inflicted troubles. Until then, I’ll have to refrain from deciding on anything big or small, otherwise I might see myself in a deep and irreparable pit. (Doesn’t that word rhyme with sh_t? Funny. Both words would have completed the sentence.)

Maybe decision-making doesn’t really suck. It just so happened that I especially suck at it.

* * *

Here’s a thought. Sometimes I wish that I become a complete nobody—someone who almost do not exist to all. That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to matter.

* * *

If life is a joke, I am probably life.

Here’s my life in a form of a joke. I didn’t even have to pay anything or anyone to read it. It came for free from Libre's May 9, 2006 issue.

HOROSCOPE

LOVE: Sigurista ka masyado kaya wa ka pang syota.

MONEY: Mas maliit ibibigay sa iyo kesa ipinangako.

CAREER: Basta handa among saluhin, ipapasa sa iyo.

I swear, the one who made this stuff is better than any seer history has ever recognized. My horoscope has never been funny and accurate before this.

Happy Birthday, Ate

Written some time in 1st quarter of 2006

Sometimes I wish my sister were here so that…

…there’d be someone to unconsciously (and sometimes consciously) remind me how unwomanly I am.

…I’d have someone to draw me closer to baking and to God. (Not necessarily in that order)

…I’d have someone to meet at Makati after work.

…I’d know what’s up with corporate fashion.

…I wouldn’t have to pay the cab when coming home from the supermarket.

...I’d have someone to tag along with me for haircuts at “Torre ni David.” (Or is it the other way around?)

…I’ll receive calls on my cellphone every now and then. (She used to be my #1 caller)

…I would get away with being weak while she stays strong.

…I’d have an emergency supply of clothes.

…I’d have someone to run to when the world is conspiring against me.

…I’d be spared from acting like the eldest sister.

…I wouldn’t have to go shopping on my own.

…I would have someone to consult XX chromosome-related problems.

…I wouldn’t have to clean our bedroom by myself. (Wait, I used to do that when she was here!)

…I wouldn’t have to regulate which stories I could tell here which not to just because she’s not around.

…there’d be someone to laugh at my occasional bursts of exaggerated, spontaneous monologues.

…I wouldn’t have to imagine her facial expression while reading this.

***I’ll see you in a few days, Ate! Otanjoobi omedetoo! (Parang wrong language yun ah!)

COMMENT

My dear sister - tye,

Thanks for your greeting.. I may have read this only now but still I am deeply touched by how much you missed me. I missed you too - my bestfriend and shopping mate.. My one week vacation there made it worse. I missed you more!

Funny as it seems, nakarma ata si ate win. I am cleaning my own room now as in every week! Ganon ba talaga kabilis dumumi ang kwarto? ;)

Looks like I have no choice.. it is really hard to be away from family. Problem is even if I am working hard and feeling homesick, it doesnt show. Paano ba ako papayat? Here I am again, "thinking aloud".

Just remember we will always be sisters khet pa married na ako. You can always call me.. you know I am always here for you. I pray nothing will change between us.

I love you sis..
See you soon sis!

Love,
Ate Win
Posted by: Win and Wah | May 24, 2006 08:55 AM

Now I Bare My Soul

I have to get this out of my system.

There’s a tiny voice in my head that wouldn’t allow me to go to sleep, hence I ponder…

In an extemporaneous speech in back high school, I was asked what one question I am afraid to be asked. I never thought that the day will come when I would find a genuine answer to that question.

Who am I?

Three words. Three terrifying words which have been haunting me maybe longer than I realize. And now I quiver, not wanting to hear the answer.

When I was younger, I never had a concrete idea what I would be like at 25. I guess I should have drafted “me” sooner. It would have given me a better sketch of who I should have been.

I look at the mirror and I see a monster.

I am a 25-year-old nobody who acts as if she owns everybody. The universe has to revolve around me. Being plain selfish is not enough. I have to be the center of everything--everything including the forces of nature. I not only take pleasure in sarcasm but also live on pessimism. The glass is never half full; it has got to be half empty all the time. For some reason, I am always afraid. I cannot even commit myself to a dream, a lifestyle, a person, or a faith. I am always angry too, not to the people around me but to me. I have been angry for so long I have forgotten what love is.

Why did I allow this to happen? What am I supposed to do to make me a better person?

I’m afraid that as long as I don’t figure out the answer to my final question, I will never be happy.


If there’s one good thing I wish to happen out of my confession, then that will be my readers being spared of my limbo. I truly hope no person will ever have to be as bothered as I am bothered tonight.

Sleep tight everyone.

What Have I Been Doing Lately?

And then suddenly I am at a loss for words.

Not good especially now that I feel that writing is one of the few things that make me special. A very human trait--wanting to be special. Needing to be special.

I refuse to go down the road that leads to depression. I can’t afford that trip right now. Besides, I am not taking the expression “writing break” entirely wrong. Yes, I have not been taking the time off from my daily routine to write anything that makes sense--something I should be doing in order to be good at the craft. But I have not submitted myself to some dramatic, if not bitter, writing hiatus either. In fact, the sequel to the “Lost…Aren’t We All” series is, just as most of my works are, well underway. And most parts of its ending are still well preserved in my cerebral hemisphere.

Aside from that, I had been writing other things too. One is a poem I’d rather not post because I know it will get me into trouble, and the reason is definitely not because I suck at composing poetry. Hence I retract my literary balls.

Mostly I have been making lists. Of why I miss people. Of what I would have a surplus of if I didn’t stop myself from impulsive shopping. Of what I would like to eat in a buffet. Of who I want to be. Of who I think I once was. Of what I should be doing in the next five years. Things like that. Mostly.

Then there are those fictitious characters and plot lines that continue to haunt me. Although I choose not to dwell on them at the moment, I do thank them for they inevitably remind me that the writer in me has not yet died. Which is good.

When Valentine’s Day passed, I felt the urge to explore the topic on relationships or at least anything related to relationships. I am no expert but I have this theory that the non-existence of my so-called love life allows me to detach myself from the said phenomenon thus giving me an objective view on such mysterious human emotion inducer. Hence I became Dr. Love. It started out with me being somebody’s friend.

Friend trapped in a gray area says she just found out that she is the only remaining virgin among her siblings. She adds that what bothers her most is that she is not the youngest in the family and that none of them were married. Friend’s gray area is summed up by her exact words (or almost exact words), “di ko alam kung dapat ko bang problemahin ang mga pinaggagagawa ng mga kapatid ko o kung mamomroblema ako dahil napag-iwanan na nila ang sex life ko.”

Friend’s predicament reminds me of an incident in one of my classes back in college. I had this teacher who was fond of deviating our discussions from our curriculum to his sex life. I don’t really know what satisfaction he gets from revealing his age when he lost his virginity (oh, yeah, he forgot to tell us the gender of his partner) or from telling us that after class he would be rushing to a date with a special someone. I never really got that.

But what puzzled me most was when he assumed that the majority of the people in our class were no longer virgins. He even said that if lightning were to strike our classroom killing all the non virgins, around three to five will be left standing. In any case, I would have opted to play dead.

Margarita Holmes-like instructor must have had a single way of classifying people: the virgins and the non-virgins. I don’t see what the big deal is with his taxonomy. I mean, given a virgin friend, I assume she would retain her personality even after the breaking of her hymen. That is if she doesn’t become a mom overnight. I assume that motherhood would at least add a sense of responsibility to any person. (Although based on personal experience, not all mommies grow up responsible; others regress as time pass. However I prefer to believe in what’s ideal.)

Some people make hooking up with someone and even going all the way sound like one big amazing race. Like the longer you keep your hymen intact, the deeper the word “loser” is carved on your forehead. Que Horror! If that’s the basis of success, we would be forced to evacuate human beings to Mars.

Prior to Valentine’s Day, I returned to my Alma Mater to join in the celebration of Our Patron Saint’s big day. It was something I thought I had to do. Something I should do by myself.

I have not been on SPCP grounds since 1999, yet I toured my former campus like I haven’t been gone for seven years. Yes, it’s been that long. I smoothly worked my way towards the Pere Chauvet Gym where I last set foot in 1998, during my graduation night. Everything was almost the same except that, this time, I was surrounded by high school girls--everyone younger than I am. With my jeans and shirt, I tried to blend in, even throwing my ass on the bleachers where spectators for the much awaited cheering demonstration were assigned to park themselves. To my disgust, sitting on the bleachers was no longer as easy as it used to be. For one, my butt is heavier. Then there’s my torso hugged by layers of fats--the non-baby kind. I can no longer sit and stand, and sit and stand as fast and as effortless as I used to.


By the way, “the much awaited cheering demonstration” is my way of saying that the primary reason why I paid P100.00 to a scheming cab driver, despite me trusting him (I have never been on a cab by myself before. That would qualify in my list of firsts at the age of 25.) and P20.00 entrance fee to the place I considered home for 11 years is because I’ve never gotten over the excitement I feel upon hearing the word “cheering.” Try saying the word. Doesn’t it cheer you up? Cheering.

Cheering was a major event in my high school. We devoted our afternoons, even weekends and a few holidays to learn, practice and polish routines that will topple if not kill all the other batches. I was one of the 300+ Seniors ’98 of St. Paul College, Pasig. And if one is familiar with SPCP history, one will know how our batch took the cheering competition seriously. However, it is only in being part of our batch that one will see how much we had fun perfecting our annual showcase of youthfulness. Ahhh, those were the days!

The present-day Paulinian Cheering Squad was, I guess, a bit excited too. Too excited in fact that they carelessly rehearsed their routine inside the gym where punctual spectators were beginning to flock. In that aspect, I’d say we were smarter than they were. They should have known that if there’s one important thing about performing, it’s that you don’t blow your surprise--no preview whatsoever, otherwise the number you worked hard for, will lose its impact. We valued the element of surprise in my time despite the sure WOW of our presentation. Mind you, I’m not being biased. We were really good. Really good. Since the performance of the present-day Paulinian Cheering Squad was too elementary, they should have at least exerted enough effort to astound their audience by sparing them of their outtakes.

Enough of the cheering thing. I was happy to realize that the present-day Paulinians are almost the same as we used to be. I mean, they do perspire still. I was afraid time and savings-unfriendly tuition fee would mold them into a bunch of English-speaking, perky snobs. The only thing I noticed which puzzled me was their wearing Ipods while strolling in groups. Isn’t high school about talking with your friends at every possible time-- during breaks, classes, not to mention during congregational mass? Their Ipods are muddling with the never ending chikahan process. Listening is an integral part of chikahan according to a gay Berlo, or a Schramm--I’m no longer sure of my linguistics and communications guys.

March came. (I started this piece on a March. Today is April 6. Talk about incubation time!) I managed to turn myself into a mechanical piece worker--cutting and pasting three designs 500 times. Four other women shared my fate. And on one desperate day, we all decided to get away from it all, hence an instant trip to Subic.

I think it was my first time in Olongapo. (Another first at 25.) We headed immediately to the beach where probably millions of planktons welcomed us with mouths wide open--that is, if they indeed have mouths. Needless to say, the planktons and their stings drove us out of the sea and into the sand. Still the beach was picture worthy. If only that will compensate my need to bathe with living sea creatures.

We baked ourselves under the heat of the sun while we succumbed to sloth and lay still on the sand, and then further baking while we got our legs pumped up for a mini hike along the Mangrove trail--the most affordable Subic indulgence there is.

Subic has its own Baywalk which is divine during the night. I love late night walks along the bay. The singing combos and live bands made the whole Subic night appeal even to my auditory nerve. I seriously considered working as a female bus boy (“bus girl” doesn’t sound right) in one of the restaurants there.

Probably the highlight of my Subic trip was my signing the waiver for a risky drive. I would like to believe that it is common knowledge that I don’t own a driver’s license--not because I don’t own a car but because of the way I talk and think. Believe me, there is a connection. But I decided to go behind the wheel anyway. Go carts are the new bump cars. Both spell FUN. Without leaving any form of will and testament, I voluntarily jumped inside Subic’s #2 cart and drove fast. Fast and not nearly furious.

Apparently go-carts aren’t the only things assuming speed. Time too is in a hurry. One moment I was contemplating things with the cold January breeze the next thing I know I am being broiled with the dry April air.

And now I stop.