On The Chronicles of Narnia

Weta workshop seems to be racking in the epics as they made the costume and set design for Peter Jackson’s epic movie Lord of the Rings and now The Chronicles of Narnia, which is based on C.S. Lewis’s highly successful children’s book series. Of course it’s worth noting that J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis lived in the same milieu, and the two are actually good friends.

Personally, the Narnia books strike me as something controversial. I’m not a big fan of Tolkien, and I’m even much less a fan of C.S. Lewis. Philip Pullman, a young adult writer, dislikes Lewis, and his best-selling, award winning His Dark Materials trilogy is actually a reaction to The Chronicles of Narnia. As for his opinions on the yet-unreleased movie, he has several complaints on the subject matter. Some scoff his arguments as petty jealousy, resentment, or a publicity stunt to boost the sales of his own books. Does his arguments have merit?

The problem with The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and its sequels deal with values. Many works of fantasy draw as inspiration various myths. In the case of Lewis’s successful work (along with his science-fiction and philosophy writings), his basis was Christianity. Now the initial reaction of many would say that’s a good thing. Closer inspection though and actual reading of The Chronicles of Narnia would reveal that Lewis was a product of his time, and shares a more conservative stance on religion. Now I don’t have a problem with the pilot book (and most well-known in the series) The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but I do with the others. In one of the later books, for example, it’s revealed that one of the characters is deemed as less than savory simply because she adopts a tomboyish (i.e. wears pants) lifestyle. Pullman does have basis for his arguments, but just because there is proof does not mean the argument ends.

An issue with literature is its struggle to keep up with the times. Classics have stopped being classics simply because they’re now viewed as unacceptable, such as a book referring to African Americans as niggers is now labeled as racism. The Chronicles of Narnia comes under similar scrutiny. One camp in general defends these books that some might consider outdated, stating that they are nonetheless classics and merely reflect their era. Others, on the other hand, are less forgiving, and deem that such books should stop being required reading for their children. Both sides have good points, although in the end, it’s up to the individual to decide what is appropriate and what is inappropriate. On my side, do I really want children to be influenced by the conservative views Lewis had? (Lewis considered teaching women a waste of his time, for example.) Yet the literati in me shudders at the thought of a body of work sentenced to extinction simply because it was deemed “inappropriate”.

Narnia is also a controversial issue for me because it contains the seeds for both acceptance and denial of the fantasy genre in Christianity. The genre of fantasy, unfortunately, is discouraged by the church, more so among the Protestant folk. This, of course, is not without basis. Fantasy novels and short stories usually contain magical elements and unfortunately, the Bible considers any form of sorcery as tools of the devil. This isn’t helped by the way media has sensationalized various fantasy icons, whether it’s Dungeons & Dragons, video games, and certain RPGs. So is it a sin to read a fantasy book? No. But one side of the church states that there are those prone to such weaknesses, whether it’s juxtaposing fiction with non-fiction (which is one of their fears when it comes to The Da Vinci Code), or taking it too seriously. Again, the question we must ask is whether such fears are justified. Well, in a certain way, yes. I mean in any group, there will always be someone who will harness it for the wrong ends. A knife, for example, has many uses, from cooking to carving to a useful tool in general. There’ll always be a chance though that someone will use the knife to stab someone. That’s the same fear the church has with fantasy books, except you know, you don’t ban knives from people just because there’s a possibility that they might harm other people (or in the case of children, themselves) using it.

Now I’m not saying the banning of fantasy books is a cardinal rule. It’s a gray area at best, and some people take extreme lengths, while others possess more tolerant views. Some people consider the Harry Potter books inappropriate even without reading it (or taking the word of their priests/pastors), while others have a more liberal view. Still, don’t be surprised at the vehement condemnation of a practitioner at something like Harry Potter. I’m just surprised that they haven’t focused on the biggest fish of them all, Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, which is the father of modern adult fantasy. (Perhaps Tolkien’s association with Lewis had something to do with it. Which brings me to my next point.)

The exception, of course, is The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and the rest of the books in the series, mainly due to its Christianity-based lore. Never mind the fact that the protagonists uses magic as well, even if it’s for the side of “good” (as if fantasy novels never portrayed heroes using magic for the good of all). The church’s tolerance of The Chronicles of Narnia is something of a double standard. I mean on one hand, they’re proclaiming that fantasy is a gray area. On the other hand, they’re giving The Chronicles of Narnia their full support, and is actually one of the few works of fiction that I see on the shelves of Christian bookstores.

Of course it’s interesting to note that while Christian belief and the church in general has evolved over the years (despite what some of them might deny), the values The Chronicles of Narnia teaches hasn’t, simply because it’s a text set in stone. There’ll be new interpretations of it, but the fact that it does possess ethnocentrism, for example, can never be invalidated. I find it ironic that the church is opting for tolerance of humanity (i.e. forgiveness of sins, caring for your neighbor, etc.) in general, yet one of the books that they promote breeds intolerance. Of course Narnia will appeal to the more conservative practitioners of Christianity, especially with Lewis’s rather zealous stance.

On a more optimistic side, Christianity has broken its own rule by accepting The Chronicles of Narnia as part of their doctrine. In supporting The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, it is also inadvertently supporting the very genre it has rallied against. Which gives hope for the fantasy genre to perhaps gain more acceptance in the future.

[Essay] Born A Sadist

On the news today, the radio commentator was narrating at how firemen unleashed a torrent of water on a prayer vigil that was suspected to be a rally. The commentator was vehement at the fireman, whom he noticed was taking pleasure in hosing down several people in addition to a senator and a priest. He recommended that the fireman be given a psychological analysis, since he was gleeful in his act of violence towards other people, as if this were an unnatural thing.

While I’m not a supporter of violence, to deny that it’s a part of us is folly. We have several positive emotions, but we also have negative ones: sadness, depression, despair, greed, hate, and yes, the need to inflict injury on another creature.

I’ve witnessed that a number of people, when angered, lash out at something. Sometimes, it’s merely a verbal insult or shout. At other times, it’s something more physical, from throwing objects at another person to hitting the wall with their fists. In such a scenario, people give in to their primal nature. And that nature involves violence.

There’s a certain pleasure we receive from inflicting pain, whether it’s on another human being or on other creatures. Why is revenge so appealing to many? To anyone who’s harmed us or our loved ones, we don’t want to simply jail them. We want them to suffer, whether it’s ripping them apart limb from limb, cutting out their innards, or torturing them by pulling out their fingernails and sticking needles in them. Those who dislike certain animals take pleasure in their suffering as well, whether it’s watching ants burn as you focus a magnifying glass on them, or hearing the scrunch of cockroaches as you firmly step on them, twisting your feet to make sure they die.

I’m not saying this is necessarily a good thing, but it is a part of us. People can’t help it any more than they can be greedy, or selfish, or lazy. We can control such emotions, but we can never expunge it from our system, short of creating a villainous doppelganger of ourselves ala Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Some people find release in other ways, whether it’s the rhythm of cutting up a butchered pig, striking at boxing bags and inflatable dummies, or playing games from Street Fighter to Paintball.

In the case of the fireman in the incident, perhaps it was his way of lashing out. I mean a senator was there, and wasn’t she a representative of the government? The same government that’s impotent in helping the country rise from poverty, the same government that perpetuates many injustices? And there was a priest. The church seems to be meddling in everything, yet to no avail, or worse, are hypocrites. I’m not saying these motives are justified, merely that many people succumb to this kind of reasoning. Even my driver, far from a saint, has a prejudice against cops of any kind, honking his horn whenever he sees one, the noise he generates his form of retaliation.

But despite all the horrible things our violent nature is capable of causing, I find it ironic that instead of facing this reality, many people turn away from it. It could be censorship, closing one’s eyes to the realities in life, or simple denial. In a way, it’s like a cancer patient ignoring the fact that he has cancer. Instead of finding a cure, we pretend that everything’s all right and that everything in the world is okay. It’s not. And if it was, I’d be the first person to panic. The thing to fear most is not a man that is violent, but a man who appears to have no vicious tendencies whatsoever. Either he’s not human, he’s lobotomized, or hiding his skeletons in a very dark and deep closet.

[Essay] Love, Courage, and other Virtues

Why do people exalt virtues? Is it because in reality, such qualities are scarce? We give merit to concepts like love and courage, as if by default, men and women were born selfish and cowardly. Yet who hasn’t fallen in love, or felt a surge of fearlessness in his or her life? Even the foulest villains, or the people we despise most, have at one point in time experienced these emotions. Arguably, some even dare to perform their dastardly actions because of these very traits. So let me ask you, what separates true love from falling in love, true bravery from mere boldness?

Virtues, I believe, are the product of a conscious choice. The rest are simply emotions. Yet people confuse the two, equating emotions with virtues. We claim we’re in love with someone when we get that giddy feeling inside. Once the flame’s gone, we’re tempted to break off the relationship. When we face a great challenge in life, be it from a physical, mental, or spiritual source, one of our initial reactions is fear. Some people will say to themselves that they’re not brave or courageous, simply because of the emotion they’re feeling.

To subscribe to such a belief undermines one of the benefits of human existence: free will. If we were merely creatures who acted upon our emotions, then humanity would be reduced to a science, a field of study in which behavior is determined by the laws of causality. A ball, for example, has no free will. It goes where we lead it, and follows the direction of the force exerted upon it. The same goes for objects. Animals, to a certain extent, follow the same rules. They are creatures that obey instinct and feeling, and it is for this reason that animals are trainable. If they were so free from their desires, then the reward-and-punishment system of training wouldn’t be so effective. Yet animals have more will compared to objects. Some animals, for example, are not trainable, and there will always be that small part of trained animals that remains unpredictable, or will break the norm. If we simply followed every urge we felt, then I dare say that animals are more human than us because even they don’t always give in to impulse.

Another reason why conscious choice is important is because of the element of difficulty. In a war, we expect well-trained soldiers to lay their lives in battle. However, we do not have the same expectations for civilians, people who do not have the proper training. The former are conditioned to face combat so many times that when they hear shots being fired, there is still fear, but it is quickly suppressed because of prior experience. The latter, on the other hand, might panic when they hear a warning shot. So in face of danger, which do you think is more likely to enter the fray of battle? The former, but if the latter does it, some perceive it as a form of heroism, because it simply was more difficult for the latter.

Or to put it in another way, which do you think will make more of a sacrifice if they are asked to lay down their life in order to save several people? A suicidal man who has nothing to live for, or a family man who has a family and friends he loves? The value of virtue is not always whether you do it or how often you do it, but what it costs you to do it. A person who enters the fray of battle and does not fear for his life is well and good. It would be more difficult though for someone who felt fear, and had to conquer his weakness. I’m not disputing that the former was brave, but the latter exhibited more courage, not because he was immune to fear, but because he felt it and acted despite that feeling.

A question you might ask is what use is all of this to me? So I’ve differentiated virtue from emotion, so what? It’s been my experience that people use emotion as an excuse not to do what they’re supposed to do, or utilize it as a license to do what one shouldn’t. For example, many so-called writers claim that they only write when inspiration strikes them. If that were the case, then everyone would be writers. I mean who wouldn’t write if they were inspired? But the reality is that a lot of writers write, no matter what they’re feeling. I approve of inspiration. Many masterpieces are borne out of epiphanies. Yet a lot of classics were born not out of divine providence but sheer hard work. I guess that’s one benefit of pursuing a career in a field you love, be it drawing, writing, or any other craft: you’re forced to do it no matter what you’re feeling. I mean in school, when my teacher asks me to submit a term paper, I don’t use the excuse “I’ll write it when I’m inspired”. If you must do it with inspiration, then there are techniques to find inspiration, whether it’s research, or letting yourself be engulfed by new experiences. Another example is divorce. While there are many good reasons to file a divorce, some terminate the relationship because they don’t feel anything anymore. While I’m not married, I know that love is far from mere emotion. Why do I love my parents, and why do they love me? I stopped being cute and cuddly when I turned four. And my parents are far from the most amiable of people, at least to me. Yet we love each other nonetheless, through good times and bad times. It’s not a feeling, it’s a commitment. People are surprised when parents abandon their child, or when children leave their parents. It just goes to show that relationships are a choice. We may not choose who our parents are, but we can always choose to leave them. Or not. And while our parents might feel duty-bound to take care of us, they honestly don’t have to, and there will inevitably be a time when they must let go and allow their children to fend for themselves. Why not sooner, right?

Virtues are about choices. Emotions might influence how we make our choices, but in the end, it’s our free will that determine that paths we take. Sometimes, it’s good to give in to emotions. When you’ve been burned by touching a hot stove, you’d be a fool not to move your hand away. It’s also due to emotions that artists are able to create their most magnificent works, allowing their experiences to affect their creations. But there will always be times when we must resist our initial drives, when we must conquer our passions. If I ran from every experience that brought fear or discouragement, then I would never grow. If I succumbed to my fear of drowning, then I would never have learned to swim. If I gave in to laziness, I would never write.

The beauty of this fact is that it gives us hope. When we look at our country and see the bleakness of it all, that’s not our consciousness talking but our emotions. It’s easy to see things as they are, to succumb to pessimism. To anyone who’s renovated a home, you’ll know that sometimes, what you start out with is a piece of trash. It has lots of potential, but until that possibility is harnessed, the place just looks like any other home or warehouse, albeit without the niceties. What eventually turns it into a magnificent place is the work and effort put into it. You didn’t say hey, this place looks bad, let’s move on to a better house. What you said was this place doesn’t look good, but it can change: it has potential. So when it’s finally remodeled, it’s the best area to live in. For me, this country is like that. We need lots of work, yet it all begins with a decision. I’ll admit, it’s a choice that more than one person needs to make, but a conversion is always possible. And perhaps that is our one source of hope. No matter how corrupt or criminal or dishonest our country becomes, it just needs a collective decision to make it a better place. And believing in that, my friend, takes love, courage, and all the other virtues you can think of.

[Essay] Losing

If there’s any insult that will last through the ages, it’s being called a loser. No one wants to lose after all. But perhaps what makes losing so painful is the fact that it’s equated with failure, and people in general have feared the big F word.

It’s always been my belief that failure isn’t something that one should fear. Should one dislike it? Of course. It’ll motivate you not to make the same mistake the next time. But in the event that it does happen, instead of whining and feeling sorry for yourself, the proper attitude should be what we can learn from it. And if you look at the cycle of human history, one of the best ways people have learned is by making mistakes. Avoid it when you can, but embrace the lessons it teaches when it does happen. Of course having said that, failure is inevitable. We can’t be great at everything (although we can always strive for it), and sometimes, one must take risks in order to gain great rewards. That means getting hurt, but pain avoidance isn’t always the best medicine.

As I said, no one likes losing, including me. But there is one instance when a small part of myself cherishes it. The one time I don’t mind losing is when I’m playing games. One might think it’s due to the fact that there’s little to lose in a “game”. Well, Poker is a game and various people have lots their lives playing it. Even playing something as simple as Monopoly takes away something valuable from you: time. So even in playing games, a person has something to lose. Granted, it’s not as financially disastrous as losing your job, but losing a game is far from a pleasurable experience.

If truth be told, I don’t mind losing a game the first time. For one thing, it teaches me how to play the game. It’s by making mistakes that we learn the important moves or tactics in a game, what to do and what not to do. Sometimes, when we’re pressed into a corner, we suddenly discover alternatives or consider strategies we wouldn’t have ordinarily considered. But let’s say you lost, and you didn’t learn anything from it. I still take a small pleasure in losing because I don’t like defeat, and suddenly there’s a drive in me to succeed. I develop a persistence to succeed, and my mind suddenly becomes active and all my energies are devoted to winning. It doesn’t matter if I have to lose 99 times to win my 100th game. I just hope my opponent has the same persistence as I do so that I can truly say that my skill has developed.

This mentality of mine applies to all kinds of games I play, whether it’s card games, board games, video games, or *gasp*, even sports. Just the other day, my interest in Warcraft 3 has been rekindled by playing a match on one of its custom scenarios. I’ve been training ever since.

Of course I don’t think I’m the only person who acts like this. I’m sure there are other people who are motivated by such things. It might not be games in general but one particular passion of theirs. It might be not getting the proper music notes right, or forgetting a line in a soliloquy, or not getting the right taste when cooking a meal. Despite the failure, there’s a drive to succeed and improve.

Sadly, this isn’t a trait we apply to everything. We’re selective about it, choosing which circumstances it functions. There’s a desire to improve despite previous failure, but only on select fields of interests. An athlete might possess the drive to win during a sports competition, but not during his academic exam. A writer might struggle to find the appropriate word in a story, but not the right equation to solve a mathematics problem. In a way, we limit ourselves, not because we’re incapable of developing the right mentality, but because we don’t apply it. We already have the right mentality, as can be seen in some of our habits. It’s just not universally applied.

Losing isn’t always such a bad thing. Sometimes, it’s a matter of perspective. We can’t always choose whether we’ll win or lose (although we can strive for it), but the one thing we can determine is how we perceive it. Sadly, the human mind can be intractable if we leave it alone.

[Book Reviews] October Book Reviews

The Rating System:

1 – There are better ways to spend your time. Examples: Damphir
2 – Ho hum novels, typical of its genre. Examples: most Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms novels.
3 – A cut above the rest, these are usually standard fare stories with either an interesting twist, gorgeous visualizations, or simply make a very interesting read. Examples: Anita Blake series, Dragonlance Chronicles.
4 – Highly recommended books! An interesting read, and pioneers the genre it’s in. Examples: Kushiel’s Dart, Perdido Street Station, Good Omens.
5 – A classic. Must get at all cost. Examples: A Game of Thrones, The Fantasy Writer’s Assistant, Dune.

Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami

Murakami takes readers for a lovely ride into the consciousness of two protagonists, a girl who has never fallen in love, and her best friend who is secretly in love with her. The words are short and simple, no long descriptions for example, but the narrative is entertaining and ever-changing in only a way Murakami can narrate. The novel might just be a translation, but much like haikus, it’s nonetheless gorgeously written, and it would seem as if it was never written in Japanese to begin with. Much like most literary fiction, reality and fantasy collide, yet it’s all just a metaphor for the human condition.

Rating: 4.5/5.

Survivor by Chuck Palahniuk

The master of psychological horror, Palahniuk takes us on a roller-coaster ride of the life of a cult survivor. It’s chock full of details, ranging from how to remove blood stains from the carpet to all the chemicals one needs to consume to preserve one’s beauty. It’s also a great concept book as the pages and chapters are numbered in reverse order, a countdown to the story’s predictable but enjoyable ending.

Rating: 4/5.

Pattern Recognition by William Gibson

A perfect example of today’s modern novel, Pattern Recognition is full of neologisms and tech-savvy terms, although it’s an easier read compared to Neuromancer. Post-apocalyptic cyberspace cities give way to a consumer-heavy present, and the reader is bombarded by all these brand labels, which as it should be as the main character has a certain allergy to such logos. The book starts out as a mystery-type novel with the main character’s history as a recurring subplot. While far from an easy read, it’s more accessible compared to his earlier work, and is geared towards a less ambiguous ending.

Rating: 4/5.

Slayers Vol 3: The Ghost of Sairaag by Hajime Kanzaki

The first few pages are already funny, if you know what to look for. Kanzaki transforms standard-fare fantasy into one with a comedic slant thanks to his writing style, while still being epic and serious at the appropriate moments. A couple of slapstick humor here though, and that doesn’t translate so well in text as it does in animation. Still, Slayers is a great diversion, and quickly cuts to the chase. Facing the aftermath of the previous books, heroine Lina Inverse encounters an old enemy she thought was dead. Despite that fact, the story supports itself well enough without needing prior knowledge of the books that preceded it.

Rating: 3/5.

After the Quake by Haruki Murakami

When you thought that Murakami’s stories couldn’t get any shorter, this collection compiles several brief narratives loosely based on an earthquake that shook Japan. Murakami’s sense of pacing here is impeccable, as the stories when it is most appropriate, giving the reader something to think about rather than closure. Much of it is an easy read, and it’s amazing where Murakami’s imagination can take you. There’s little commitment here at barely a hundred pages, but the emotional and intellectual returns are great.

Rating: 5/5.

The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Romance in a not-so-linear narrative, The Time Traveler’s Wife is an excellent example of good slipstream fiction. Formal fiction prose blends with science-fiction and fantasy ideas, and one gets caught up with the two main protagonists, lovers who meet each other in different stages of their life. Several quotations from poetry and philosophy sprinkle this novel, as well as various foreign words, but they don’t detract from the story, and adds to the glamour. Niffenegger’s execution of time travel and keeping track of all of it must be applauded, as well as the twists and turns one encounters in the plot.

Rating: 5/5.

The Forgotten Beasts of Eld by Patricia McKillip

Perhaps McKillip’s best-written novel ever, The Forgotten Beasts of Eld contains all the essential elements a classic. The prose is enrapturing, brief but colorful, simple yet deep. You also have a three-dimensional protagonist, who appears strong at the beginning, but eventually undergoes a transformation of her own. And while the book is short, it encapsulates a lot of things, and no line is wasted. There’s also the menagerie of creatures and riddles, presented in a way only McKillip can deliver. As if that wasn’t enough, readers are rewarded by an ending that is fulfilling but does not seem forced.

Rating: 5/5.

The Knight by Gene Wolfe

While a novel of epic proportions, more modern readers of fantasy or fiction might be detracted by Wolfe’s more traditional writing style. If one can get over that, then The Knight is a story rich in character and setting, as Wolfe draws from various Western lore. The language is archaic but appropriate, while the narrative takes the form of the protagonist writing a letter to his brother. The hero of the story is a child who suddenly finds himself in another world that has seven layers, and is soon transformed into an adult as he encounters knights and various kinds of aelfs. I couldn’t help but feel though that this book was a male fantasy, as several women try to bed the protagonist. Finally, this is truly a novel in two parts, as the second part, The Wizard, must be read in order to complete the tale. The Knight ends at a crucial juncture, not necessary leaving you hanging, although there has been a lot of build up that has not yet been resolved.

Rating: 3.5/5.

The Two Swords by R.A. Salvatore

Concluding the Hunter’s Blades trilogy, Salvatore takes his most famous character, Drizz’t Do’Urden, to new heights as his character evolves once more and realizes new epiphanies. As usual, the novel is full of what Salvatore is good at: fight scenes, both of epic scale and dramatic one-on-one battles. Any one who’s read the other books in the series will find themselves at home with this one, but those who haven’t might get lost at the opening, as Salvatore has managed to turn the exploits of Drizz’t into a massive, world-changing event that will change a part of Faerun forever. And perhaps that’s the weakness of the book, as new readers will be confounded at the various characters and perspectives, while existing fans will notice the sudden disappearance of a sub-plot being built up in the previous two novels. Everything simply gets swept away in the revolution. New sub-plots are also seeded in The Two Swords, paving the way for more sequels, and ensuring fans that this is far from Drizz’t’s last adventure.

Rating: 3/5.

Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto

Another Japanese writer who practices the art of telling short narratives, Yoshimoto’s writing style is quite straightforward and entertaining. Kitchen is actually composed of two stories, but both tales have many similarities. There always seems to be an element of fantasy or disbelief when it comes to Yoshimoto, but she executes it perfectly, even amidst her gender-bending protagonists. Her characters are emotionally scarred in this book, and indeed, her subject matter is dark and depressing. Yet the message Yoshimoto gives is one of catharsis, one of hope. While Kitchen may be a quick and easy read, it harkens to the soul and leaves one much to ponder upon.

Rating: 4/5.

Three Hearts & Three Lions by Poul Anderson

While undeniably a classic, its writing style and narrative betrays its age. Archaic language and ancient fantasy tropes pepper this book, but it is far from a difficult read. Hoger Carlsen, hero of the story, is transported from Earth to a land of faerie, and there combats the forces of chaos. While this book is inspired by Arthurian and European myth, many modern fantasy novels borrow elements from Three Hearts & Three Lions. Of course having said that, today’s reader might not necessarily find this book as appealing as it was half a century ago.

Rating: 3/5.

[Essay] Memory: The Silent Killer

An important but subtle element that governs us is memory. At the shallowest level, it can be as simple as remembering a friend’s name. Yet memory is a pervading force, and it branches out to other aspects of our lives. If it wasn’t so vital, whether it be individual memory or collective memory, then why bother with history, with psychology, or simply keeping a journal?

Haven’t you been attracted to someone because they reminded you of someone else in your past, be it a friend, a lover, a relative? It’s not always apparent the first time you meet a person, yet it’s there: what’s beautiful about him or her? Sometimes, it’s the memory of a past life with someone else who shares the same qualities. It could be the way they talk, a physical feature, the gestures they make, or even their interests. Yet no two individuals are completely identical, and so this new person’s quirks will in turn cause you to be attracted to someone similar in the future. But it’s not always about love. It could also remind us to dislike certain types of people, to distrust them, and sometimes, to loathe them. When we quibble that we don’t like a certain person, yet can’t point our finger on what makes them untrustworthy, sometimes it can be rooted to a memory of encountering someone similar.

As for friendships, even the strongest bonds can be shattered by memory. Amnesiacs live out entirely new lives, make new friends, for previous shared experiences do not exist. Yet it does not always have to be something that drastic. In our daily lives, who do we think about? Perhaps one of the reasons why people don’t always keep in touch with each other is because we forget. And the insidious part of it all is that we don’t notice. It could be our best friend from high school, a teacher from college, or perhaps our nursemaids when we were babes. What impedes us is not malice or fear or laziness. Sometimes it’s memory, as their significance in our lives is encompassed by the all-too-important present.

But forgetfulness is not always the root of disagreements. Sometimes, we remember them all too well. Lovers might separate and claim that the other was not the same person they fell in love with. Here, the roots of memory take a firm hold, and anything short of it becomes faulty, unworthy. The same goes for our friends and family: we often like to remember them during their best. But some fall prey to constantly measuring them by that standard. And there’s the fact that memory isn’t always selective, and as much as we remember the good, we also recall the bad, and it lurks in our minds whenever we encounter them. It’s what makes betraying a trust so malignant: even if we forgive, we seldom forget.

We are temporal beings, and our only link to who we truly are lies in memory. Aside from our experiences in the present, the only thing that tethers us to the past, and some believe to the future, is memory. The reason we keep on doing something over and over again is because we recall our prior encounters with it. Learning would be impossible if it weren’t for memory, and indeed, we measure growth in terms of who we used to be. A man without memories is simply a man who lives for the present: who can say whether he’s matured or not? He cannot plan, he cannot save, he cannot expect. There is simply the now, with no past life to give him firm grounding.

And indeed, memory is the key to our identity. The reason why we’re so dedicated to unearth lost memories is because we believe they’re part of what makes us who we are. Have you ever tried to remember something, yet can’t? Don’t you feel the frustration in doing so? It doesn’t have to be an important event, it could be a trivial thing. Perhaps what you had for lunch, or what clothes your crush wore. Yet when it’s forgotten, it’s as if we’ve lost a part of ourselves as well. But this fact extends to more than the individual. Rewriting history is perhaps difficult because we’re modifying the memory of a nation, of a people. Unlike true memory, we can edit, delete, or even add to our past. Whereas our own memories are only subject to the biases of a single person, history is subject to the biases of a million narrators.

One of the questions a pacifist should ask is when do we start remembering in terms of a collective rather than as individuals? Whether it be as a person, a family, a state, or a nation, as long as we have these artificial boundaries, there will always be conflict. Memory thrives on shared experiences, and in fact what takes note of the differences we have. Memory is the ego, but for selfish creatures like ourselves, perhaps the only way to realize a lasting peace is to have one ego. That’s not to say we give up our individuality, but rather that we start thinking in terms of everyone and not just ourselves or our nuclear family.

Concepts like vendetta and revenge is only possible with the existence of memory. Yet when we ourselves make a mistake, we do not rise up in retaliation to our own body, but instead seek to correct ourselves, to not repeat the same mistake. As long as we think of ourselves as individuals, there will always be “the other”, a separate memory that needs to be assimilated, or failing that, destroyed.

Death is what gives memory a finality. We make our last recollections as we take our final breath. But the ironic thing is perhaps the fact that while individual memory ceases with death, collective memory is strengthened by a person’s death. The dead become part of the consciousness of the survivors. And if history is any proof, the deaths of hundreds, thousands, and millions take a firm foothold in the minds of people.

The question I ask is not whether we remember the past, but whether forgetting is a boon or a bane. As we witness innumerable horrors, is forgetting the ultimate relief, or does it plant the seeds for human error to repeat once again?

The Fiction in Nonfiction

There are people who show contempt for woks of fiction, and quickly quip that the only manuscripts they read are works of nonfiction, be it history books, newspapers, or books classified under the nonfiction section of the library. But as my media teachers, history professors, and writing mentors have taught me, we are all surrounded by works of fiction, although many are not readily aware of it. Most people look to nonfiction for truth: but truth is an already elusive concept in real life, how much more when it gets penned down by far from objective authors?

First and foremost, we must remember that books and publications are written by people. They are not divinely scribed by an omniscient deity, and thus are subject to bias. Even the most factual of documents are subject to this shortcoming. Take historical accounts. An old adage is that history is written by the victors. And it’s true. Not so long ago, Magellan was a hero to Filipinos, the man who discovered the Philippine Islands. Of course presently in that same island where one of the first battles between Spain and this archipelago was waged lies two graves: one honoring Magellan, the other Lapu-Lapu for fending off foreign conquerors. Magellan might be the hero for the West, but to history books in this country, Lapu-Lapu is not an ignorant savage but the first of many heroes who would rebel against Spain.

Sometimes, it’s not even the limitation of the writer but of the medium. Newspapers, for example, can only have one front page. As much as I want people to read everything that’s contained in the newspaper, a lot of people usually just focus on the front page. This is where the headlines are placed, but have you ever asked who gets to choose what gets splattered on in front? Similarly, the editors can’t report about everything that happens in the nation. Some news articles make its way to the inside pages, others buried or filed under “future use”. An editor could easily place an unwanted (but forced to publish) story somewhere in the middle of the broadsheet, consigning it to a subtle demise.

And since we’re talking about newspapers, nothing is as unforeseen as the present. They say hindsight is 20/20, and perhaps that is an advantage history books have over tabloids and broadsheets. I mean the dailies are forced to report about the present, and more often than not, we don’t have all the facts. We have conjectures, theories, and suspicions, and we try as best as we can to tie in all the facts. As much as our conclusions are true, they could also be wrong. History books, at least, have the benefit of sifting through the various discoveries. Even then, they are made obsolete with new discoveries of their respective field.

If that’s the case with history and with newspapers, how much more with other works of nonfiction? Again, many people have this misconception that just because a work is labeled as nonfiction that everything that needs to be written must be true. They forget that nonfiction is still literary, and thus subject to the same constraints of telling a story. When I read an account, a biography, or a report, I can’t always expect the writer to throw in everything that’s true. No, I expect to read about it in a cohesive and logical manner. That means lots of edited parts, and perhaps an embellishment here and there. In reading the exploits of an adventurer, for example, do I really need to know that the person went to the bathroom five times a day? At not if you’re trying to built up suspense and excitement. Similarly, when we blog about our day, we don’t always tell the tale chronological of events: we merely mention what is the most significant, what has the most impact. And sometimes, whether intentional or not, we tie them up with fictional interludes, or at least making it appear so.

Memory is also the most fragile of things, and most of us draw inspiration from remembered accounts, recalled events. When we finally get to write a work of nonfiction, they are far from perfectly accurate. Hallucinations, epiphanies, or faulty memory usually get in our way of telling a story as it is. And even then, other people would have witnessed the same event differently. People will have different truths, even if they arise from the same circumstances.

So is truth truly as elusive as it seems, since we cannot even trust the written word? I believe in ideological truths. The small instances might not always be true, but the larger message is. When I read about a man driven by greed and selfishness, just because I read it in a book, be it fiction or nonfiction, does not mean such people do not exist in reality. They do. The same goes for other emotions, such as kindness, love, and suffering. Or sometimes it’s not the bigger picture that’s true. I might fabricate the most unbelievable conspiracy story, and while the theory might be fictional, the smaller instances in the narrative, such as corruption in government, the abuses people suffer, or the double-standard humans live with, is something readers are familiar with.

First and foremost, I think reading challengers readers to think. The easiest thing to do is to simply believe what other people have to say; to let others do the thinking for you. Some people hide under the cover of nonfiction, when the fact of the matter is, there is more truth in fiction that one could ever realize.

[Essay] Humanity's Constant Struggle

There’s this one statement which I often hear, usually in the context of a break-up: “I won’t change for anyone except myself.” Now that strikes me as arrogance, as if change was something to be avoided, or something we can control.

What is change? Is it good or bad? In theory, it could be either one, or sometimes, both. Yet within each human being is a desire to remain as is, to resist change, even if it’s for the better. It’s a perfectly natural tendency. When there is a lack of change, there are no surprises. Everything goes as predicted, and it’s easy to succumb to complacency and comfort. Unfortunately, this also breeds stagnation, and we stop growing, stop evolving into a better person. Change might be the logical choice, but fear of the unknown usually gets the better of us. “Better the devil we know than the devil we don’t know” is an obvious cliché that results from this mentality.

In reality, change is inevitable. Even the most ardent of resistors will change. Time will age us, cause us to develop new habits, or alter old ones. Yet it is possible to slow down its progress. In that, the most adamant succeed. Change over the physical body, we have little control of. Change over our minds, we have considerable power over. Not total control, mind you, but nonetheless a considerable sum. Take for example the story of Filipino saint, Lorenzo Ruiz. At the hands of his foreign captors, he was asked to renounce his faith in God. No matter what form of coercion they employed, no matter what form of torture they practiced, he did not relent. Lorenzo Ruiz died a Christian. Did they succeed in battering his body? Yes. Were they successful in changing his belief and perspective? No. Yet even if St. Lorenzo Ruiz survived that ordeal and was set free, there would have been a part of his mind that would have been changed. It might have been the trauma of being tortured, or perhaps the shock at seeing his companions suffer. His faith in God might have remained, but there are other aspects of his mind that could have been altered, irregardless of whether he’s conscious of it or not.

There are two ways to change: voluntarily, or involuntarily. The latter is perceived as undesirable, sometimes even evil. For example, when a hurricane hits your home and transforms your life into a pauper, we see that as a curse. Or perhaps when a girlfriend or boyfriend asks you to change this certain quality of yours, we still consider it an involuntary change because it did not stem from our own initiative. Compare that to a person who suddenly decides he or she wants to change for the better. It might be a realization that he or she should live a healthy life, hence exercising daily from that point on. But is such a dichotomy valid, that voluntarily change is always good, and involuntary change bad?

In truth, it all boils down to two factors: foresight and pride. If a man suddenly wins the lottery, does he curse the fates for giving him such an unexpected windfall? Foresight tells him that it’s a good thing, so he takes pleasure in such an occasion, even if the circumstances behind it was involuntary. But human foresight is not infinite, and a few years later, the same man might find himself living a lonely and horrible life, thanks to the familial squabbles such riches brought him. Or take a detrimental occasion, such as losing your job. One immediately thinks that it’s a bad thing, that getting fired is far from an auspicious circumstance. You might curse your employer and fellow employees when that happens, but a few years later, look back at it and think that it’s the best thing that ever happened to you, especially when a bigger company hires you for your now-available expertise, or paves the way for you to start your own business. In either scenario, we lacked the foresight to recognize if it’s a good or a bad thing, and simply assume the immediate repercussions.

But what about pride? Well, some people take comfort that their decisions are voluntary, whether it reaps rewards or ruin. As much as we decide to do what’s good and right, we also decide to do things that are detrimental not only to ourselves but to our society as well. For example, our vices are our own choices, whether it’s drinking or smoking. I could easy think one day that hey, I should start smoking. And this perpetuates until the end of my life. Health-wise, it’s not the smartest thing to do, but we condone such a habit because it was ours to begin with. Compare that to our parents or doctor ordering us to eat our vegetables. While eating vegetables is a healthy option, we resent doing so, not just because of the taste, but the fact that doing so wasn’t our decision or that someone else was compelling us. This kind of mentality is magnified when a part of us changes due to someone we have a dark past with. It might be a former employer, a previous lover, a relative we’ve quarreled with, or a friend turned nemesis. For example, when living with your girlfriend, you might have had to give up a bad habit like smoking, or learned a new skill like cooking. When you break up with her, there’s a desire to rebel, as if to assert your own individuality, or to scorn the other person. You start smoking again, especially when you encounter your ex, or perhaps you never turn on the stove again, for it brings back too many memories. In this case, we reverted to our old selves due to a conscious choice that traces its roots to pride.

Of course I’m not saying that as long as the end-results are good, it shouldn’t matter whether the cause was voluntary or involuntary. People can typically be classified under one of two categories: those who act, and those who react. The latter are more likely to respond to involuntary change. When unpleasant circumstances hit them, that’s the only time they grow. That’s not to say that’s entirely bad: some reactive people, when encountering a disaster, might be so determined that they turn a disadvantage into an advantage. When a typhoon hits their home, he or she rebuilds the entire city. The other type of person builds things out of their own initiative: they don’t wait for favorable conditions, but instead start working now. They change irregardless of the current circumstance.

People usually fall somewhere between the two: I don’t think I’ve met anyone who’s purely voluntary. Unfortunately, meeting someone who’s perpetually involuntary is a possibility. Perhaps the problem with being involuntary is the fact that you wait for an external stimulus for you to change. You might be good at coping with crisis, but if it never arrives, then you’ll never grow as well. Of course a voluntary person can learn a thing or two from the involuntary person as well. Conditions, after all, are dynamic and ever-changing. One needs to adapt to the situation if one were to succeed, and in the endeavors that a voluntary person will start, those types of encounters cannot be avoided.

A voluntary person, however, has one important quality that needs to be respected. He or she has pride. And make no mistake, while pride can get in the way of getting the job done, pride is what gives us our dignity and our humanity. Do I really want to live a life where everything I accomplish or do is dictated by someone else? Voluntary people change because it is their decision to do so, but taken to the extreme, are the types that will claim “I will change for no one except myself”. Hence healthy doses of being voluntary and involuntary is needed. A person will grow, sometimes by their own choices, and sometimes by uncontrolled events.

Change is honestly a difficult concept to embrace. If you observe most people’s lives, growth is usually achieved when adversity is encountered. And I don’t think I’ve met anyone who asks for problems. Even the most voluntary of people, who for example might start up their own business, will not look forward to the trials he or she will face. They merely see it as a hurdle to overcome, to be avoided if possible. Yet difficulties cause us to grow, to evolve, to become better people. Perhaps the only thing that can console us during such times is our mentality. The question we should ask isn’t “why me?” but rather “what can I learn from this, and how can I grow from it?”. It’s easier said than done, but growth usually comes with a steep price.

If change is such a primal force and humans claim to possess free will, is it possible to choose not to change? The very act of choosing not to change already alters us, because previously, we did not have that sort of mindset. But philosophical babblings aside, does our inability to resist change limit our free will? Actually, there is a way to resist change, and many people take this recourse. When adversity strikes them, they give up instead of adapting to the situation. It’s called suicide. Disregarding the metaphysical and the afterlife, death has a certain finality. A corpse can’t change his or her views: it’s already locked in place at the time of death. Your body can rot and decay but your mind ceases to change. When the Japanese executed St. Lorenzo Ruiz, did they continue to abuse the corpse? Probably not, because you can’t convert a dead man. His faith and belief had already been established. They could have killed Ruiz’s family, city, and nation, but that means nothing to a dead man, and would not convert him to their beliefs. In death, our body undergoes one last transformation, and then everything else ceases. Perhaps the last act of someone who commits suicide is not to be free from this world, but rather to be free from change and the circumstances that cause it.

If death is the opposite of change, what does that tell us about life? It’s easy to perceive people, places, beliefs, and ideologies as static entities, when in reality, the only thing constant about them is that they are in a state of flux.

[Essay] The Art of Book Reviews: It’s Not As Easy As It Looks

Not so long ago, I thought that my ideal job would be that of a book reviewer; doing nothing but read books all day, and then write reviews on them. That wish never came true, and even if it did, it would probably be less than perfect.

For example, my reading taste revolves around a certain genre: namely fantasy and science-fiction. I imagine that there are two extremes a book reviewer will face: either he gets to choose which books he wants to review, or he gets whatever is thrown his way, either by the publisher or the publication he’s working for. In the case of the former, it’s not a problem for the reviewer, but it might be for his readers, because the subject matter he tackles revolves around a small niche, and might end up writing derivative reviews. As for the latter, the reviewer might have more variety, but there’s a good chance he’ll be reading a lot of horrible books. And unlike the casual reader who can simply put down a novel that doesn’t interest them, you have to plough through the book from beginning to end. It’s like Simon from American Idol forcing himself to listen to William Hung for one full hour, just to be sure that Hung really is that horrible, and to what extent.

Assuming a book reviewer manages to balance his book choices, the next question he faces is how many books he will review. Theoretically, the more books he can cover, the better. Unlike other forms of media which has a set number of pages or a fixed time, books not only come in all shapes and sizes, they come in various thickness and font sizes as well. A music album release, for example, takes around an hour, while watching a movie two hours (Lord of the Rings, Dances with Wolves, and JFK being the exception). Reading a book, however, has no definite time (unless you’re talking of audio books). Readers read at their own pace, and allot different hours for reading them. One of the worst questions I encounter (and I get this often) is how long does it take me to finish reading a book. If they want a specific answer, they’ll have to give me a specific book. Children’s books (but remember, there are various kinds of children’s books) take me around a few hours to finish. Paperbacks in the 300-400 pages count take me a day or two. Mammoth books with page counts amounting to four digits takes me longer. Content also plays a significant role. Does the book contain pictures, and how much? Is the language simple, or is it as complex as reading James Joyce’s Ulysses? Are the paragraphs long, or are they broken down into shorter segments? One has to realize that no books are identical, although some books share similarities with others, especially books by the same author (but that’s as far as it goes).

Once again, we go back to the number of books a person is capable of reviewing. It all depends on the person’s capability, and what kind of books he’s reviewing. An adult novel or two for me is okay. Anything more than that depends on my passion and availability. I mean is doing book reviews feeding me and my family? If so, I can probably afford to drop everything else, and start reading for the first three weeks of the month, and then churn out the reviews at the last. If not, then what can I accommodate into my schedule, taking into account work, recreation, and my social life.

Then there’s the actual review writing. The first thing every reviewer should ask is who their audience is. Am I writing the review for fiction aficionados? Or the casual reader? Kids? Perhaps even the non-reader. This will take into account your writing style, and how you will tackle your subject matter. As a fantasy reader, for example, if my audience are fantasy fans, then I can drop multiple allusions to other fantasy work and/or writers into my review. If not, then It’s probably better for me to stick to something more mainstream when it comes to name dropping.

Knowing your audience also helps the reviewer answer this one important question: to spoil or not to spoil? Many people who read book reviews will be irked if they read a review that has spoilers, especially when unwarned. However, giving out spoilers is sometimes inevitable, as reviewers need to mention something about the book in order to review it; one should just be wary to what extent he spoils the reader. Readers who’ve already read the book obviously will not care about the spoilers, but instead appreciate it as the reviewer can go more into detail about what’s good or what’s wrong with the book, and can cite the specific circumstance. So on one end, spoilers can alienate the casual reader, but gives the reviewer more tools to work with. On the other, a reviewer can limit the spoilers he reveals, but has to be more general in his review of the novel.

What do I mean by limiting spoilers? Well, the book summaries at the back of books already do spoil readers, as they sometimes mention the plot of the book or the premise. There are even rare circumstances when book cover summaries actually spoil the main gist of the story (hint to readers: never read back covers if you want to fully enjoy the reading experience!). Book reviewers might want to start from there. Of course there’s no set rule, and reviewers will debate with themselves what to include and what not to. Should I name the person that gets killed, or simply let it be known that a character dies? Should I tell that the book’s plot is really about this, or should I let the reader discover it for themselves? Obviously, if a reviewer doesn’t mind giving out spoilers, he doesn’t have to ponder on these unnecessary decisions, and just write the best review he can come up with, mentioning all the elements he thinks are important. And in that sense, the best book review is perhaps one that contains spoilers, because the reviewer doesn’t need to hold himself back. However, the best book reviews aren’t always what readers are looking for, and simply need a nudge whether to buy this book or not.

In the end though, what makes a book review work or not is the sensibilities of both the reviewer and the reader. If there’s a huge disparity in their preferences, no matter how much the reviewer recommends the book, or how well-written the review is, the reader might just end up disappointed. The problem isn’t with the reviewer but with the reader: what the reader needs to do is look for a book reviewer whose tastes are similar to theirs. Thus a favorable review will elicit positive reactions from the reader. There’s no secret formula for readers to know which book reviewers are for them. Sometimes, you get a hint from their reviews, but more often than not, it’s a hit-or-miss thing, and the only way to know is to pick up a book they recommend (or not recommend).

[Essay] Justice

Perhaps it’s because I live in a third-world country, but the word justice often comes up, and in various contexts. It could mean food for the hungry, jobs for the unemployed, fair wages for the masses, or simply punishing the unjust. The last point I want to expound on. In media, in literature, and in real life, the lines between justice and revenge (or vengeance, if you prefer) is blurred. If we want someone punished, we cry out for justice. If there’s a mass-murderer out there, we seek his capture so that he may be sentenced to death. And you know, that kind of reaction is natural, human nature. It’s as reflexive as kicking when the doctor taps you kneecap. Many supporters of this kind of belief will usually favor the Old Testament, quoting the passages of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Turning your other cheek is so unnatural that it’s what makes Christian doctrine so progressive for its time. Yet for all the beliefs that the Bible instills in its followers, people still clamor for revenge in the guise of justice. But is this what rational, enlightened people should ask, let alone a just and merciful deity should condone?

Throughout grade school and high school, I’m the kid that gets pushed around, a prime target of the bullies. In my eyes, if there’s anyone who should seek deific vengeance, it’s me, one of the oppressed. Some people might even carry bitter feelings inside them even if such incidents were a decade old. Fortunately, I’m not one of them. Perhaps the day I was converted to another kind of belief was when I met one of the people who bullied me. He approached me as a friend rather than an oppressor. He was asking if he could borrow some money for me, nothing large, just a few coins. While I suspected a part of the act was a farce, he didn’t retaliate when I couldn’t give him what he wanted. He merely thanked me and walked away. And over the course of many years, I’d meet people who were once the bullies, the guys on top, live reformed lives. This experience rather than Biblical text is perhaps what showed me that there’s something better than punishment.

Theoretically, reformation is something our society strives for. The reason we put criminals in jail is so that they can know the consequences of their actions and change for the better. Whether it’s effective or not (or even appropriate, as anyone who’s watched or read Les Miserables will know) is an entirely different matter. Yet when a crime is committed and the criminal is apprehended, society clamors the convict to be jailed, not because they hope that he or she will be converted, but in order to be punished. Once again, this is the normal human reaction. When someone kills one of your loved ones, steals your hard-earned money, or threatens your life, the immediate reaction is to strike back. I must admit, there’s a certain sense of satisfaction in that. But in such a scenario, I think of the future and realize that at best, what we’ve managed to accomplish is only to rid the world of one less human being. To some people, that’s not so bad. But if you think about it, there’s actually something better.

Don’t you have a friend who was once a bully? Or perhaps someone who was very unlikable, but changed and is now one of your good buddies. It could easily have been a rival, an enemy, or simply someone who gave a wrong first impression. Despite all their faults, they’re your friends now. Let’s assume that you didn’t change, and that it was they who started acting differently. Wouldn’t you have someone, despite (or perhaps because of) their horrible past, be your friend in the present? The alternative of course is that they’d be jailed up somewhere, never to see the light of day. Or worse, sentenced to the death penalty. It’s simple math: zero, or something. Yet many of us prefer the former, thinking that revenge would be sweeter, or that the person would never change for the better. With regards to reformation, you never know unless you give the person a chance. It might not be something you can change in him or her, but circumstances have ways of altering a person, whether for good or ill. As for revenge, well, some do develop a taste for it. To me, it’s just a precious waste of resources. What rules us when it comes to revenge isn’t our intellect, but our appetite. While following our appetite when it comes to food is okay, it’s another thing when it comes to human life.

Let me take things to another level. A friend of mine once told me that she thinks in the afterlife, God will punish the unjust, even if they’ve been converted. She reasons that if that weren’t the case, what happens to the rest who’ve been good all their life? She and I agree on one point though: we don’t know how God will behave. God is, after all, the most justice and good character we can imagine. In this case, my friend believes that God will mete our justice. I don’t, at least not to those who are reformed. Admittedly, a part of me wants to see people punished. As my friend said, what happens to the rest of us who’ve been good the entire time? Where’s the justice in that? But that’s not the rational part of me speaking. An enlightened person would think things through. I mean honestly, if you used to be the most horrible person, and then you genuinely decided to be good, your past is enough to haunt you for the rest of your life. Punishing you in the afterlife is like giving medication to a person who’s cured. Not only is it inappropriate, it’s causing unnecessary pain. Sure, if the person wasn’t sincere in their reformation, go ahead and punish them. But punishing a good person because of their past is as fair as punishing the son for the sins of the father (that’s not to say that the guilty shouldn’t be punished; they have to live with the consequences, but they can expect forgiveness from the merciful).

If that was the case, some of you might be asking, what about the people who’ve been good all their lives? Would their rewards be the same in my vision of an utopian society? Well, there’s the parable of the Prodigal Son. The elder brother, the one who didn’t run away and stayed, asks his father the same question. What about me? There was forgiveness for the Prodigal Son, and the older brother’s initial reaction was where’s the justice in that? God’s answer to him was that he’ll inherit everything He’s built up so far. But in concrete terms, what is that? Well to me, at the very least, the people who’ve lived good lives won’t be bothered by their conscience. I mean if I was a criminal, for example, who eventually reformed, no matter what I do in the present, I’ll still be mentally haunted by my past. Because I can never undo my crimes, and whatever wrong I did to other people will linger in my mind. Call it whatever you want, be it trauma, nightmares, or guilt. If I truly lived my life as holy as I make it out to be, then I won’t have that burden, even if my final fate is the same as the converted.

Before I end, I’d like to point out that no one lives a pure and good life. We’ve all made mistakes, and aren’t we grateful for those who gave us a second, or even a third chance in life? We might not have committed crimes, but we have performed unjust acts. Whether it’s something mortal or venial, there’s always a chance for reformation, for change. The one thing I dislike about death is that it halts change. A dead prisoner can’t be enlightened and ask for penitence, at least not in this life. And for those who judge others in light of their own righteousness, well, it’ll be ironic if God sentenced you to the same punishments you’ve been clamoring for in others.

[Essay] True Pain, True Suffering

One thing we’re all acquainted with is suffering. Yet despite knowing the fact that it’s unavoidable in life, we attempt to evade it, and when we get hurt, it’s as if we’ve experienced it for the first time. Just take a look at heartbreaks, or grieving a loved one, or perhaps losing a part of your body. No matter how many times it’s recurred before, it’ll always be a fresh wound once when we’ve experienced it again. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that memory, or lack of it, blunts the trauma. Yet there are actually two things that many people fail to recognize.

The first is that the crisis is not the most painful part we can experience. It can be breaking up with your boyfriend or girlfriend, failing an important exam, losing a limb to an accident, or sudden bankruptcy in your business. Many will attribute loss to that particular event. “It was the saddest moment in my life,” one might say. But it’s also the briefest, which is also why we might cling to that particular memory, playing it over and over in our minds, as if we could mend the mistake we make, despite loathing it and preferring not to dwell on it. We are, by our very nature, illogical and contradictory after all. Yet if we came face to face with the facts, what’s truly terrifying is not the present but the future.

A man who breaks up with his fiancé might cry and feel depressed on the eve of their separation, but what haunts him is the events to come. It’s in the days that follow where he is plagued by nightmares, dreaming about his lonely life, or worse, the past or what-ifs he could have had. It’s in the post-crisis period where he dwells on how there’s no one he can share his life with, or how he might not be as lucky the next time and find someone who enjoys his companionship. The same goes for anyone else who experiences a disastrous event in their lives, such as an earthquake or a typhoon. It’s not during the earthquake that you’re most distressed, but rather later on, when it’s all over, and you have to start picking up the pieces. Emotionally, it’s a lot less to handle because there’s no time pressure, no immediate need to resolve things. But in truth, it’s also the most difficult, because it’s when you come face to face with your own feelings, and realize that it’s not going to be over as quickly.

If there was an explosion and I died, it really wouldn’t be a problem because I had a quick death. However, if I somehow managed to survive, and find out that I lost an arm in the process, that would simply be horrible. When I’m in the hospital bed, I’ll be thinking of my future, how I’ll live life with one less arm. Sure, I’ll channel my anger and disappointment at that one point in time, during the explosion, but you know what, that event’s done and over with. It’s the difficulties in finding employment, or losing sex appeal, or simply not being able to eat with a fork and a spoon that’ll haunt me for the rest of my days. When I fall down, it hurts, but finding the strength to get back up hurts even more. It’s the only way we’ll survive or cope but hey, it’s not a pretty sight.

The second item many people don’t recognize is that we fear pain and suffering not simply for the emotions themselves, but because they bring about one important aspect: change. The truth of the matter is, complacency is lack of change. It’s being able to predict what’s going to happen tomorrow, of being in control, of living life in the way you expect it. Any form of crisis wrecks your plans. A couple to divorces, for example, have come to live a life they’re previously familiar with. Now, it’s an entirely new game, and they’re suddenly lost as everything seems strange and new again. Honestly, no one wants to start out fresh. In Monopoly, it’s like starting with zero dollars and zero property, while everyone else has their cache of money and hotels.

If an accident suddenly befalls me, it’s painful not just because of the actual sensation of pain, but because of the changes I’ll have to make in my life. If someone close to you dies, the first thing you’ll notice is how he or she isn’t there anymore. Our point of reference will always be the past, which is something we already know and base our future assumptions on. We live life in a certain pattern, and we’ve grown comfortable with that particular lifestyle. Change wrecks that lifestyle, and it’s extremely uncomfortable to change habits, to live life in a way you never expected.

Perhaps that’s why we suffer most after the disastrous event. Because then, we have time to think of the consequences, to feel fear and be frightened. And we’re not frightened for the sake of being frightened, but at the fact that we have to change and adapt to the new circumstances. If we fail in that, it’ll lead to another trauma, thus causing an eternal loop of pain and suffering.

Some of you might be asking how do we stop this? The sad thing is that we can’t. It’s a cycle, and no matter how we avoid change, it always catches up to us. Except in death, and there I comfort in that because the results can be predicted: if I slit my wrist now, I’ll stop breathing, and I won’t have to face my problems anymore. Note that the problems haven’t been solved, merely made inaccessible. And death, in the end, has a certain finality to it because it resists change. When you’re dead, you can’t change the world anymore. Only your previous legacy and other people can do that for you. So is it really a big surprise that people find comfort in suicide?

[Essay] 52 Hours a Week

I used to work six and a half days a week. The pay wasn’t much, but I loved the atmosphere I was in. From 10 am to 6 pm, I was surrounded by anime paraphernalia and talked to customers who loved anime. After work, you’d think that a person like me would go to a bar or something, but all I did was go home, watch some anime, and chatted with friends via the Internet about anime. You’d think that after sixty non-stop days, I’d be burnt out but the fact of the matter was, the only thing I truly missed back then was my participation in Magic: The Gathering tournaments.

These days, working five days a week is already draining. So what happened? I simply grew and developed a lot of other interests. Not only am I just interested in anime, I have to juggle my reading time, my writing time, my gaming time, and my regular public service announcements in addition to work. And believe me, work these days is work.

I met a friend of mine, Richie, a few weeks ago. He’s had several years of experience working in various jobs and positions, and now he’s finally landed a career in what you’d think would be a dream job. I mean he loves gadgets and technological devices. He now writes for a magazine that deals with those kind of stuff. Yet because it’s his job to know about the latest stuff, it stops being a hobby. When you’re compelled to do something other than for the sheer fun of it, it starts being a duty.

Yet his story is not unique. Nor is it the rule. I have friends who’ve learned to hate their ideal job, because it’s draining the sheer fun out of the experience. But I also know people like Vin, one of the people who started Comic Quest, and he still retains his passion for comics despite being surrounded by comics day in and day out. Your experiences with work is a double-edged sword.

I mean personally, it’s because I’m deathly bored and stressed with my work that when I get home, I’m in a hurry to get things done, whether it’s reading, writing, or gaming. I wonder if I was in a job that incorporated all three, would there be less output from me, quality and quantity wise? But I also remember my days in Comic Alley, and perhaps the reason I was there everyday (aside from the fact that I had no social life) was because of my enthusiasm for my hobby.

We all react differently, depending on the situation. Perhaps the only real warning I can give people is be careful what you wish for. Or as my Christian faith would say, be grateful that God doesn’t give you what you want, but what you need.

[Essay] Confessions of a Bibliophile

One might think that a bibliophile is merely concerned with books. And to a certain extent, a good number of bibliophiles are only concerned with their one true love. For my part though, I remember that it’s not the book that I’m in love with, but in the art of reading. And there actually many factors involved in reading.

Take for example furniture. Some of you might be surprised that someone such as I, out of touch with the world, would be concerned with something so practical. But I do think furniture should be every bibliophile’s concern, unless they love to read books while standing up.

What’s your reading habit? Personally, I love to slouch in a couch or in a bed. Not just any bed though, it should have a headrest of some sort. Pillows would be nice as well. They’re ideal and comfortable places for me, despite what some psychologists might claim (that is, such places will make you feel drowsy because it’s where you sleep). Failing that, a sturdy, wide chair would do. Obviously, chairs come in all sizes and shapes, which is why furniture becomes a concern for me.

Not everyone’s a couch or chair addict though. Some prefer to read on a table. And that’s fine, especially if you’re the type that highlights passages or jots down quotes from their favorite books. I’m sure a lot of bibliophiles rely on different kinds of tables, whether it’s the roughness of it, the size (the perfect height for example), or simply the design (should it be slanted or flat?).

Aside from furniture, there’s room design. Perhaps one of the most important aspects of that would be lighting. Where is the light centered? Personally, I don’t like reading by lamp stands. They cast shadows which obscure my reading. Color also plays an important role. I love fluorescent white. Anything else is a hindrance. One of my professors though said that a certain yellowish paper looks good on yellow light. So reading with a certain ambience also plays a significant factor.

How about the amount of noise? Some people love “background” music, whether it’s mellow tones to ear-splitting vocals. Or perhaps it’s the chirping of crickets, the tweeting of birds. Or the sounds of morning traffic, the trademarks of every metropolis. I love the silence, where there’s nothing to distract me and I can be alone with my thoughts.

Lastly, there’s food and drink. Some people mix eating with reading. I tend to do that, although I prefer finger food that’s not messy: reading with your right, eating with your left. Anything that requires a spoon is out of the question. But I’ve heard of people who have a glass of wine to begin their reading rituals, and I wouldn’t be surprised if others have a certain food fetish.

A bibliophile is not just a connoisseur of books. He or she must balance out all these other factors, for the ideal reading experience is seldom an isolated incident. Not only do I want a good book to read, I want the finer things in life as well that will augment my reading experience.

[Book Reviews] September Book Reviews (Memoranda, Extinction, Annihilation, The Binding Stone, The Robots of Dawn)

September Book Reviews (Memoranda, Extinction, Annihilation, The Binding Stone, The Robots of Dawn)


It’s a new, briefer format! Instead of giving a comprehensive review like I used to, I’ll probably settle for these shorter once a month mini-reviews of books that get thrown my way.

The Rating System:

1 – There are better ways to spend your time. Examples: Damphir
2 – Ho hum novels, typical of its genre. Examples: most Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms novels.
3 – A cut above the rest, these are usually standard fare stories with either an interesting twist, gorgeous visualizations, or simply make a very interesting read. Examples: Anita Blake series, Dragonlance Chronicles.
4 – Highly recommended books! An interesting read, and pioneers the genre it’s in. Examples: Kushiel’s Dart, Perdido Street Station, Good Omens.
5 – A classic. Must get at all cost. Examples: A Game of Thrones, The Fantasy Writer’s Assistant, Dune.

Memoranda by Jeffrey Ford

The second book in a trilogy, the book’s only weakness is perhaps that it whets your appetite for more. It’s brief but interesting, and Ford invokes a lot of imagery more than the usual. The book doesn’t get bogged down unlike its predecessor, The Physiognomy, and is actually one of the better “middle-child” books I’ve read in a long time. It stands well on its own, and is a delightful read irregardless if you’re a fan of fantasy or not.

Rating: 4/5.

Extinction by Lisa Smedman

Another middle-child book, this time in a six-part series. Story flow remains interesting, as usual, and Smedman succeeds in not only pushing the plot forward, but showing us what an evil party is like, and how they interact together. Perhaps notable from this author is her descriptions, as Smedman’s style stands out differently from the other author’s writing in the series, in a good way that is. If you’re a fan of the War of the Spider Queen series, Extinction won’t fail you. If not, you might want to grab the first book in the series.

Rating: 3/5.

Annihilation by Philip Athans

If you’ve read it this far, then there’s really no reason why you should put down this book. The fifth book in the War of the Spider Queen series, Athans shows us perhaps the highest point in the story short of the climax. While not as skillful as Smedman, Athans has other strengths. Notable perhaps in this novel are several mage battles. And honestly, you’re nearly at the end, so it’ll be difficult to screw up the series’s interesting premise. Again, best avoided by the uninitiated.

Rating: 3/5.

The Binding Stone by Don Bassingthwaite

Another Eberron novel, it disappoints with its slow start and generic narrative. There’s an interesting plot element in the middle, but only hardcore psionic D&D fans would appreciate it. The next highest point would probably be near the end where all the necessary action takes place, but it all stinks of deus ex machina. If you’re a fan of Eberron, you should probably just try out the other books instead of this. The good points aren’t enough to salvage a generic and bad book.

Rating: 1.5/5.

The Robots of Dawn by Isaac Asimov

The last novel in his Robot series, this book only proves that Asimov’s true strength lies in his short stories. Long and winding, Asimov takes us to another mystery with a surprising twist at the end. It doesn’t pack as much oomph as his earlier work though, such as the Foundation or the I, Robot short stories, and the previous, shorter novels in the series are probably better. Still, it’s perhaps one of Asimov’s better attempts at writing a really long novel. Simple narratives and interesting concepts are tools which Asimov works with, and this book is no exception.

Rating: 3.5/5.

[Essay] Bibliophile’s Haven

When I first became a bibliophile, one of the things I discovered was the myth called libraries. Parents, teachers, and the media seem to perpetuate this fallacy that libraries housed all these books. When I first entered our school library, I tried looking for the book I wanted to read. It was a futile attempt. Later on in life, I’d continue my desperate attempts at searching for books I didn’t find on the card catalog. When the Dewey Decimal System failed me, I tried looking for books manually, shelf by shelf, cranny by cranny. Common sense would dictate that if it wasn’t listed in the library’s archaic filing system, it’s not there. But the strangest thing is that sometimes, they do turn up, and in places you didn’t expect them.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a fan of libraries. In fact, second to bookstores, libraries are one of my fondest places to be in. And they are good sources of free, reference books, as well as the occasional fiction novel or two. But aside from that, the literature-loving, fiction-hungry part of me was starving. Sure, most of the canon books were there, provided that they weren’t on loan. But what about the rest? Where are my Agatha Christie, Stephen King, Nick Hornby, or Jasper Fforde? Whenever someone would recommend a book to read, our teachers and parents would say “visit the library”. But as anyone who’d actually visited the library would know, libraries don’t contain each and every book (and I can’t blame theme... to house every book published would probably take up as much space as a small country). Yet everyone else seems to think so!

Libraries are pretty much like personal collections. I don’t think any person has the exact same set of CDs, the exact same stack of books, or the exact same album of coins and stamps. The same goes for libraries. Each one is an individual, some having a larger collection than others, but their selections are definitely unique. Of course libraries have a certain preference: school libraries and public libraries, in my experience, are general and try to have books on various topics, be it fiction or non-fiction. Others, on the other hand, are more specific. I mean don’t expect finding J.R.R. Tolkien on the shelves of the National Library of the Philippines, but it is a great place for those doing research.

Personally, if I’m really looking for a particular book, especially one that’s been published recently, I go to one of two places. The first are bookstores. The big ones have a wide selection of books to choose from, while the smaller, independent ones focus more on certain selections. For example, if you’re looking for locally published books, La Solidaridad Bookstore has a good selection, especially if you’re looking for books that were published by Solidaridad publishing. The likes of Aeon Books and A Different Bookstore, on the other hand, have been known for their terrific selection of fiction and philosophy. Bookstores are like tools: know which is the best one to use for a particular situation.

The other isn’t a place so much as it is a community. What I’m talking about is the Internet. Online bookstores like Amazon.com, while not possessing each and every book published, does contain an extensive selection. Of course this can only be achieved because of virtual real estate: unlike retail stores which take up shelf space for their books, online bookstores can just store them in a warehouse or order them on demand. Today’s current technology also introduces the concept of ebooks, documents that are presented in digital format. Ebooks give out-of-print books or unpopular authors a chance to be seen because of its format (i.e. little storage costs, low overhead), and in most cases, easily affordable as well.

Of course bookstores, unlike libraries, do charge fees for the books. In that, libraries are no replacement, unless you happen to have a friend (or group of friends) who has an extensive collection. Still, you only get what you pay for, and for some people, investing money is well worth the time you would have lost scavenging through book bins and libraries.

[Essay] Immortality

Strolling down the video game arcade of the local mall, I took a trip down memory lane and thought of the games that have been popular over the years. Looking at today’s games, one common element they have is the fact that you can now save your games. I mean one of the more popular racing arcade games right now is Initial D v.3 (well, at least it was so a few months ago). Aside from the fact that it’s based on a popular manga/anime, perhaps part of its allure is that you actually keep track of your best times and get to customize your vehicle (by playing more games of course). There’s even a shoot-em-up game where you can save your character as well and unlock hidden surprises in the various stages depending on what your level is. Which brings me to my next point: why are such video games popular?
Surprisingly, the answer isn’t really a new one, and is actually present in classic games be it Pac-Man or Gradius. Why is the save feature so important, be it in RPG’s, shoot-em-up games, or racing games? Perhaps in each and every human being, there’s a desire to be remembered, to be noticed, to be immortalized. Why do games feature high scores? Aside from having a goal to beat, it also broadcasts to everyone else that hey, somebody’s achieved this record, and we all get to see the initials of the person who did it. The save feature is actually a more complex form of this, as more details can be added, and results in a more unique calling card.
Breaking records wouldn’t perhaps be such a big deal if it weren’t publicized. Sure, you have a psychic victory, knowing that you accomplished this. You’re a hero, except only you knows it. You can brag about it, but not everyone would believe you. That’s why scoreboards are important, be it The Guinness Book of World Records, the high score on the local arcade machine, or the memory card you keep tucked in your pocket. I’m not saying this is everyone’s motivation for accomplishing something, but people feel appreciative whenever they’re remembered. To a certain extent, that’s also why some people get offended if you don’t remember their name.
Because mobile phones and text messaging (or email) are popular in this country, I often hear the statement “somebody loves me” whenever they receive a phone call or text message. That statement isn’t necessarily true every time you get a text message, but in the absence of love, most people will settle for being remembered.
Whenever I visit the poor and rural communities, some of the people there make one request from me. They’re not asking for money or goods, but to be merely remembered. Some of them ask me to write them letters, or to visit them some time. I never do. Instead, I honor them in my writing, with these stories of mine. I don’t always name them, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember them. And perhaps the beauty of writing is that once it’s put down on paper, it’s forever there. No matter how much I’ll deny its existence, it’s proof to everyone else.
With each word I pen down, I immortalize myself and the subject I write about. There’s no guarantee that I’ll be remembered fondly, but writers can console themselves that they’ll be remembered at least.

[Essay] A Man for All Seasons

When I was in high school, I was no stranger to outreach programs. At least in name. A number of my more popular batchmates were busy tutoring public school children during their spare time, while all I did was hang out at their org room, listening to their tales of this and that experience. To be honest, I didn’t find teaching kids appealing at the time. I was happy for my batchmates though, and one of the things I envied was their camaraderie. And so it was from them that I encountered the organization called ERDA (Educational Research and Development Assistance), which was responsible for one of the more popular outreach programs in our school.

Little did I know that six years later, I would meet the man responsible for such a prolific and altruistic venture, Fr. Pierre Trizt S.J.. Born at the borders of France and Germany, Fr. Tritz would eventually became a citizen of the Philippines in 1972 after switching allegiances between France and Germany several times. He originally enrolled in a school that gave its students a choice of which order to graduate from, and he chose the Jesuits, mainly because he wanted to go to China. He was inspired to do so after reading a book that dealt with the life of Matteo Ricci, one of the four original Jesuits who managed to penetrate China and befriended the emperor.

Life in China was everything Fr. Tritz imagined and more. In the span of a few months, he learned the language and began what would be his calling in life. He could not yet write in Chinese, but could read and understand the spoken word. Armed with those tools, he began teaching, and would set the pattern for his life. His vocation though was halted with the attack of the Japanese. It was a two-year head start before World War 2 began in Europe, and so the Japanese did not harm the Jesuits for they did not want to antagonize the French at this time. Fr. Pierre relocated to the Philippines, hoping to return to China one day.

When the war was over, China had changed and adopted a communist policy. Fr. Tritz remained in the Philippines, and eventually gained his citizenship during the Marcos era. During his stay here, he continued what he did in China: that is to teach and teach and teach. He was teaching at three universities, but as the years passed by, he had to give up one of them, especially in light of his health.

It was a book that originally inspired Fr. Tritz to pursue the life of a Jesuit in China. It would be another book that would inspire him to set up the foundation that is now known as ERDA. Receiving a copy of a digest given to guidance counselors, Fr. Tritz was shocked to find out that millions of children were uneducated and living in poverty. The advantage of the rich, he cited, was that they had kindergarten. The poor enters school at grade one, knowing nothing. Worse, few actually pay tuition or could afford to. All they have is whatever the government offers them.

Fr. Tritz was supported by the government and given permission to set up a 5-year high school. This high school taught a variety of skills, and one of the more important programs it had was on-the-job training. Once the students graduated, they had the skills necessary to find employment. And so began ERDA, which would later transform into a huge enterprise it is now, drawing aid from various people and volunteers.

When I was sitting in Fr. Tritz’s office, he had a photo of one of the students who were benefiting from ERDA. The student also gave a hand-written letter to Fr. Tritz, which he showed to me. Near his office were several stacks of boxes, each containing school supplies to be delivered to various parts of the nation. It would seem ERDA is successful in its goals, but Fr. Tritz remembers his roots. He tells me of various benefactors, such as Mr. Yuchengco, a wealthy but amiable man who supports and funds ERDA.

I leave the ERDA building, happy on one hand because of all Fr. Tritz has managed to accomplish, but disappointed as well considering how many Filipinos are still stricken by poverty and a lack of good education. As I rub off the shit I stepped outside ERDA’s gates, the one thing I am certain is Fr. Tritz’s sincerity. I mean a Jesuit could have been living in a more comfortable abode, yet the building in which ERDA resides is at the heart of the people they are trying to help. In front of me was a street littered with manure, dirt, and various street folk. The building itself, while sturdy, was unassuming, and could easily be mistaken for an abandoned warehouse.

Others might see outreach programs as a diversion, or perhaps a duty one needs to perform once in awhile, akin to attending Sunday mass. But here was Fr. Tritz, in his ninth decade, continuing an endeavor that might never be finished in his lifetime. For the man who’s survived the World War, migrated to a country half a continent away, and set up an altruistic foundation, he’s still working at it. I think I’ve caught a glimpse of what it is to espouse the Jesuit belief of magis, to strive for excellence, to strive for more.

[Essay] Friendships

Vin and I were talking about friendships the other day and I was narrating how I often felt like a third wheel in most of the social circles I was in. For those who don’t know me, I don’t have a best friend, nor do I belong to a clique (or “barkada” as we call it in Filipino). Rather, I’m the guy who knows a lot of people (friendly acquaintances if you will), and perhaps the tragedy is that it stops there.

Not that it always began that way. I mean early on in grade school, I was a popular kid. I got high grades, I regularly had parties at home, and had a few sleepovers at my place with friends. But a part of me changed when I realized that I wasn’t being a good friend to those I was with. I mean when we were playing video games, for example, I always wanted to be one of the players and didn’t want to pass it on to other people. There was also the fact that yes, I was popular in school, but I was also teasing a lot of my other classmates. And I had a best friend at the time. Unfortunately, he was also a bully (more of the physical kind, not that he ever really hurt me physically), and shared my propensity for self-centeredness.

To put it bluntly, I don’t know what happened. The day I stopped teasing other people and started caring, the world around me changed. From predator I became prey. I faced the insults, the bullying, and the social isolation that kids were capable of. I survived, and found solace in the few friends that stuck with me.

And then I graduated from grade school, and three-fourths of the class weren’t my classmates anymore. Those that did remain my classmates were well, let’s just say that they weren’t exactly my top ten choices. High school was filled with new discoveries, new challenges. Unfortunately, few people wanted to be my friend.

Vin was mentioning that in maintaining and making friendships, one has to take a proactive stance. You shouldn’t just depend on the other person to keep in touch with you. In high school, I was very active to the point of annoyance. I talked to a lot of people and tried to be their friend. Unfortunately, no one in class truly wanted me. They had formed their own social circles, their own cliques. At best, I was at the fringes, tolerated but not invited. There’s always group activities in school. You know that feeling when classmates immediately know who to team up with? I was one of the rejects, the clumsy kid you usually picked last during a sports contest. And so I drifted into various groups, never truly belonging to any one team. I tried insinuating myself into their cliques, but I was merely rebuffed. I tried opening myself up to them but they didn’t care.

And so for four years I attempted that. But by my last year, I knew it was a futile effort. In a soap opera, I was the guy who courted the girl, but the girl was in love with someone else and would say that we could still be friends (and he’d help the girl nonetheless despite knowing the fact that they could never be together). I was accepted up to a certain point, but never brought in. I was the person you could rely on if you needed something, but not the person you invited to your birthdays, to your celebrations. And true enough, this would be the pattern in the various organizations I would be part of in the future. Of course I was foolish back then, and perhaps my weakness was that I was too eager to befriend people to the point that I was “clingy”. Which as you know, turns off some people, and makes them less trusting of you. So if I lacked good friends back then, it wasn’t due to the lack of effort but perhaps too much of it. And people who would call me friend always kept me at a distance.

Graduating once again, I had a paradigm shift. But the results were still the same. I was a bit more amiable, a bit more friendly, and perhaps a bit more cunning. Unlike in the past where I was mister unpopular, now I was the guy who knew everyone. Yet the same problem persisted. I was kept at a distance, never truly having close friends. Lots of friends, yes. Close friends, no. So many of my weekends were lonely, and school actually gave a comforting aura because I was around people. Honestly, when you’re in college, making friends is easy. They’re all around you. And because you’re all facing common adversity (i.e. terror teachers, difficult schoolwork, merely belonging to the same class), there’s something you can talk about and one doesn’t need to be shy about approaching other people. Compare that to the real word, where you don’t talk to the stranger sitting beside you in the jeep, or the person you come across at the supermarket. The only place where you’re perhaps forced into forming friendships is the work place. Aside from that, you revert to your old habits, and party with the same set of friends you previously had.

Of course nowadays, I can’t say I’m brimming with effort to deepen friendships. When somebody asks me how was my day, I reply with a generic answer of “okay lang” (just fine), mainly because explaining the trials and tribulations would take too long, and I feel I shouldn’t burden other people with all my worries and complaints (that’s what reading my blog is for). Or at least if they’re sincere about it. How do I know if the other person is just finding an excuse to make casual conversation, or if they’re really interested in my day. The other reason why I reply with such a generic answer is because of confidentiality issues. Suffice to say, there are some stories I can’t tell other people because they’re not my right to do so (case in point: as a call center agent, you can’t really talk about your clients because that’s a breach in protocol; the best rant I can do is talk in vague motions, but nothing really specific).

Not that I’ve stopped being friendly to people. In fact, I’ve made a few new friends over the past year. But the fact is that I’m usually at the periphery, and no one wants to take the risk of deepening the friendship. On my part, I don’t want to take on the role of the uninvited guest, because I’ve played that part too often in the past, and all you get are disgruntled people. And perhaps the other factor that’s impeding me is the fact that I’ve developed a reputation. Sure, some people like me. But a number of people hate my guts, or hate my habits, or have reasons to dislike me (whether justified or unjustified). Just look at my friend’s list in livejournal. A number of people there hate me. But I add them to my friend’s list anyway, because to tell the truth, I don’t usually break the relationship. It’s usually other people who do so. Offhand, I can only remember one incident where I was the one responsible for breaking off with the other person. As for the rest, it’s usually the other side that gets mad at me, gets angry, or simply stops being my friend because their friends got mad at me.

Moral of the story? Well, it takes two to tango when it comes to forming deep relationships. I mean I could be the most amiable person in the world, but if the other person is unwilling to accept me, then there’s no friendship. Vin says you can win them over with persistence. Well, that’s true. But the opposite can also happen: they’ll get so annoyed with you that from mutual acquaintance you’ll turn into a pariah. And of course, even if you’re already friends with someone, unless you take the time to keep in touch, that relationship will eventually drift. People change, after all, and it’s the gradual changes that we can live with. When you keep out of touch with someone, you’ll one day discover that he or she is a totally different person. And perhaps another fact I want to tell is that people’s perceptions should change as well. I mean people do change, yet more often than not, the way we treat other people is as if they were static. I mean personally, I’ve grown and matured. Some people who dislike me before have seen the changes and have grown to accept me. Some still perceive me as the foolish kid I still once was though. And the opposite can be true as well: a person might have been a good friend to you once, but now, they’ve changed whether for the better or for the worse. The relationship shouldn’t remain static but change appropriately as well.

A fitting end would perhaps be my experience just a few hours ago. On my walk home, I passed by Robinsons Galleria to take shelter from the rain. A Chinese boy, with pale skin and shaved head, looked at me and started following me. He eventually came up to me and introduced himself as Allen. What’s your name, he asked. Charles, I said. Can I be your friend, he asked again. By now, I was suspecting he was a retarded kid or something (and his speech pattern didn’t help him either, because they were far from fluent). I hesitated, but I eventually said sure. He then asked me more details, such as where I was heading and where I lived. Of course I remember the warnings parents usually give to their children: don’t talk to strangers. And so I answered truthfully but vaguely, mentioning that I was walking home and that I lived in Mandaluyong. I asked him whom he was with and he said his companions were at the basement. By now, I was eager to get rid of him. Honestly, I appreciate the gesture. But why did he choose me of all people? I suspect it’s because he has nothing else to go on but by appearances, and by my appearance, I looked like one of his kin: that is, a fellow Chinese.

Before I walked out of the building, he eventually left me and said goodbye. We shook hands and I was only too eager to be away from him. Perhaps we’re not so alone in the world as we think we are. There are people willing to be our friends. The problem with us (and me in this case), I think, is that we choose our friends. We don’t accept who’s available, but rather pick the ones we think we deserve. It’s much like courting a girl: you think is the perfect one for you. Unfortunately, her opinion greatly differs from yours. And you have this friend, waiting patiently for you at the outskirts. But we ignore her, because we think she’s not the one for us. Sometimes it’s true. Sometimes… we’ll never know. Stranger friendships have been born out of stranger circumstances.