Monday, October 29, 2007

Haaahhh...this blog is already 1 year old!

This blog turned a year old last September and I didn’t even notice it!

It started year ago when my older brother gave me a Pentium 1 PC. That was the first time I had a PC. (Most of my computing experience was through document printing when I used to work as a copier operator.) So, when I found out that the word processors can check grammars and spelling, I began writing anything I can think of. I had this Doogie Howser M.D. fantasy.

Then the Pentium 1 PC died. My brother, who is a newly commissioned missionary bound for Thailand, gave me another PC, this time it’s a Pentium 2. So, I continued doodling on the computer. I began writing stupid poems and some compositions—it’s really just writing exercises. Of course the ancient Pentium 2 computer died a few weeks later also.

When my brother was already in Thailand, I began thinking of sending these poems and compositions to him and to some people I know, I even sent some of them to my sister’s best friend, an editor not because I want to have them published (my gulay!) but to ask for help on writing. I kept sending them, so maybe, my older brother had pity on me so he asked his eldest son Jared to create a blog for his miserable uncle. And that’s what how I got this blog.

Thinking back, one thing I got from this blog was freedom. I have so many questions about theology; in this blog, I was able to express them. These are things I dare not talk about openly with my pastors for fear of being called heretic. But as I ask these questions here, I realized that by simply expressing them I had this sense of release and relief. Also by reading other theology blogs (especially Adventures in Div. Dchool) (I gotta to meet wonderful Christians too!)I realized that people have similar questions and some even have proposals that borders on the bizaare. My theological angst has lost its steam, thanks to this blog. There will be more theological reflections and questions on this blog but they will not be as venomous as they were before. I tend to think that I am growing up, theologically speaking.

How about those angry, sarcastic, offensive things I wrote here. I can’t explain them and I will not defend them. Most are done in bad taste and some are just plain stupid. But like what I said before, these angst, if they are not expressed in this blog, could become pimples or boils or they may give me diarrhea and sore eyes.

Most of the time I wondered what would the people who read this blog think of its author and I will not be surprised if they think that its author is a schizophrenic or crazy or a Satanist or an egotist or something. All I can say is, I found a way to be free and it’s in here (and in my Filipino blog) so just have fun reading because who knows you maybe reading yourself (or not) here the same way I can read myself from other people’s blog.

It’s all about experiences and how people experience the same things but in different perspectives, that’s the fun with blogging.

It’s like omniscience…nahhh…that’s for another post.

Why “That Strange Feeling”?
My brother used the title of the poem I sent him as the title for the blog. He told me that I can change it but I did not change it because somehow it captured what this blog would be all about…hmmm… which is really all about nothing. Here’s that strange poem.



“That Strange Feeling”



This was how it felt,
And I’m telling you I didn’t add more or take less
For this was indescribable and only a full story
Is what would do justice and nothing less.

After I swallowed the bitter medicine, and drank my cup of water
I suddenly felt ticklish like a feather was in my underwear
And I felt altitude as if riding on a Ferris wheel
Going down, from up, exhilaration was what I felt

The tickling was unbelievable and my heart was murmuring
I dread seeing but I can’t help feeling
The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering,
And the bees in my heart were buzzing

Sitting, waiting, and my buttocks were itching,
Stand, walk, trot, and run to make time fleeting,
What’s more killing than my anxiety
To pull and see what was bothering me.

They were all there as far as I can tell,
All my siblings, mother, father, and the neighbors as well
They were all expecting for something to happen
It’s like their waiting for the launching of Apollo eleven

At last I can’t take it no more, I cried out, Father, it is a fore’
A torn newspaper and baby oil, my father, pulled it a sure’
And I’m cutting this story short, for I don’t want to be gross
‘Cause what I’m here tellin’ was the effect of my first dose

Of that medicine called combantrin!
And I’m sure you know what Im tellin’
Yuck!


Sunday, October 28, 2007

Kyrgyzstan and some stories


Two weeks ago, Dadai my younger sister arrived from her six months mission work in Kyrgyzstan. I was happy because it has been almost a year since we had a talk and I am eager to hear stories about her experiences in the mission field. Dadai is the second of my siblings (the other is my older brother Joey in Thailand) to go to a non-Christian country to share the love of Christ. We were apprehensive because Kyrgyzstan is a Muslim and at the same time a former communist country; I never even heard that name before. But God has been faithful and He had kept Dadai and the other missionaries safe.

As Dadai was talking, I had this question in my head: If my father was alive what would he have said about my siblings going out of the country for missions? My father had big dreams for us. Before he became a Christian, my father was a heavy equipment operator and for sidelines, he does small time contracting jobs. He knew that there’s money in the construction business. So he had my older brother take up civil engineering in college and my other sister took up accountancy. I was to be the lawyer. He had it all figured out, the engineering stuff would go to my older brother, the accounting to my sister and the legal stuff would be my job. I tend to think that my siblings went along with this. But my father became a Christian. He became the pastor of our church and my siblings became involved in the ministry as youth leaders. Then my father died, I felt God deprived me of my father. Then after my father’s death, my siblings went to the seminary for their theological education and I didn’t understand it then. I felt, alone. I knew it was nobody’s fault, but I was fourteen then and my father was such a strong presence in my life that when he died I lost direction. Add to that my hormones kicking in and I’m also having philosophical, theological questions that looking back-- it was so confusing. I dropped out of school and became a drinker.

I was a backslider for sixteen years and I have done a lot of bad and crazy things. Back then, I felt I distance from my family but there’s this nagging, silent feeling that kept telling me that I have no other course but to come back to the church.

During one of my Christmas visit to my sister’s apartment at the seminary, as I was browsing through her books, a prayer list fell on the floor. I picked it up and written on it was: “Please, Lord, bring my brother George back to the fold.” Maybe those nagging, silent feelings that kept telling me that I have no other course but to return to the church were my mother and my sibling’s prayers. God has heard their prayers.

Now I’m back in the church as a deacon, a musician and a teacher. I got my life back and in a few months from now, I will be having my college degree. God is faithful to keep his promises.

As I was listening to my sister’s Kyrgyzstan’s stories, I feel that in some way the family business that my father dreamed of has finally been realized, and the business is booming.


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Saturday, October 27, 2007

Barangay Blah, blah

The Baranggay Election is over and after the ballots were counted, our incumbent barangay captain, a distant relative of mine, lost the election. Personally, I don’t care who wins the election because for me politicians are all the same—they are all alike. But today I felt sadness, not for the losing candidate but for the supporters of the losing candidate. Majority of our barangay’s employee came from our place; this is not surprising because our captain grew up here. So when the news got around that he lost, I could feel my neighbor’s gloom because their jobs are co-terminus with the captain. They are now jobless.

Sad.I have been sneezing violently lately because Tamia our Labrador gave birth to eight (two died after a few days) cute, gorilla like puppies. Haaayyyy…no matter how cute these puppies are they will always be a torture for me. Anyway, my brother will be disposing (sell) them after a few months.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Election season

I was surprised when I saw that there are mobs on the streets. I heard someone calling my name, and when I looked, a total stranger shook my hand, told me his name and then gave me the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. I was a little dazed and when I looked at him, he wore uniforms carrying photos and banners....its election time! The most sickening seasson here in the Philippines.

People going around, shaking strangers hands and smiling their best and most artificial smile!

I am being mean again!

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Ministerial Ethics 101 or why Pastors should not enter politics

Imitate me, then, just as I imitate Christ. 1Co 11:1 (The Good News Bible)
I was (not) surprised when a Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist Church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress admitted pn TV to having accepted money from Malcanang Palace (the snakepit of the Philippine government). The Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress even have the gull to say that now that what he has done was out, he now felt good! He even tried to justify the money! It’s a gift he said…(Pastor haven’t you heard of deontological ethics, or Kant’s Categorical imperative, or the ten Commandments, or what our mother told us when we were young: do not accept candies from strangers, or how about the Scout’s honor?)

This Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress was known for barricading cinemas when the Da Vinci code was shown in the Philippines. He “was” the powerful voice of God and of morality and of holiness in the Philippine government, yet he admitted to accepting gifts from Malacanang. Why I even saw him on TV condemning “Desperate Housewives” and how ladies dress (talk about T-backs!)

His admission was halfhearted and forced because a Catholic Priest turned Governor earlier beat him to the…err…media attention. The good Father turned governor of Pampanga admitted to receiving five hundred thousand pesos (around 10,000 USD) from Malacanang and the good governor exposed the money to the press. (I say Amen to that Father! I wonder if the good Father did not expose this to the media how long would have that …you know he is…benefited from these “gifts.” Hmmm…I wonder why this Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress did not exposed the “cash gifts” in the first place. I really, really wonder why? This reminds of the Adam when God caught Adam eating the “cash gifts” err... I mean the forbidden fruit… Adam’s excuse was, “t’was not me, it was the woman in the Malacanang...errr…t’was not me, t’was the woman that you gave to me.” ) See what the Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist Church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress had done is that by keeping silent about it, he is already part of it (Guess money is the best way way to make allies). And that’s what made it so, so, so horrible. My gulay! He has been in Congress for how long and how long had he been receiving money! And now he is in the bandwagon doing admitting receiving cash gifts. How traditional and unbiblical.

The Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress did not want not to be out-“moraled” by the “pagan-idolater Roman Catholics.” He held a press interview of his own. While I was listening, I was wondering where the thundering condemnation of corruption was! Where the thundering condemnation of the blasphemy of the Da Vinci Code was! This time, the thunderous voice and the machine gun Bible verses has become nothing more than a melodious fart of a little bad boy caught with his hands inside the money jar. Why, I wonder why he spoke with such a soft voice. (I say what’s the problem with you Pastor…err…congressman! See the problem! Can’t differentiate between the two now.) The tribes of these reverends cum politicians are increasing. Why, one even tried to run for the presidency of the Philippines complete with the prophecies of his sycophant prophets, when he lost—he was cheated. (Better than calling the prophecies and the prophets and the supposed sources of their prophecies, the infallible God according to them, and their hand laying a disgraceful farce. Where is that guy and where are his court cases now.)

It’s sad how “men of God” with all the bravado, and all the Bible verses, come charging into the corrupted halls of government to change it, to condemn it and in the end, end up being one of them—rotting and now rotten!


I have seen pastor like this and they make me mad! They spread their theology and ethics like viruses to unsuspecting churches. They like to hide behind 1John 1:9 (If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.) Talk about license. (During one of our devotions I told my students not to memorize this verse. I told them that in times of temptation instead of hearing the Holy Spirit saying “Don’t” they will instead hear Satan and his cohorts quoting this verse and saying. “Hey, remember what the preacher said about 1 John 1:9. Go ahead, null problemo there’s always 1 John 1:9 Go ahead!)

(When Jesus saw the condemned woman about to be stoned, he wrote on the sand: “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” What would have Jesus written on the sand if this pastor cum congressman (and his tribes) were hauled out of congress for accepting bribes and was about to be stoned… (I’m using my imagination here) “Shoot him! He’s had classes on theology, church ethics, ministerial etchics, business ethics, missiology, New Testament Studies, Old Testament Studies, counseling, ecclesiology, Christology, soteriology, Church History, apologetics, eschatology, he wrote papers, he preached, he condemned other people’s sin, why shoot him (them). He (they) fell short of the measures he (they) used for other people! He (they) are as guilty as hell! He (they) put God’s name in vain! Shoot him (them) with a submarine launched inter-continental ballistic missile with a carabao dung warhead. He (they) should have known better, much, much better than better!!!!” Or Jesus would have gently and kindly said, “Let them be, forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing. They suffer from spiritual down syndrome.” Or Jesus would have just walked away and say, “I have nothing to do with these sons Sceva.”)


It is not up for me to judge the soul of this Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress (or his ilk). That is outside of my prerogative but it is for me as a saved sinner, to react, to judge and to discern what he has done (or what pastors like him had done) and that is to put the name of God and of the hardworking pastors and workers of God from other churches and from other denominations into shame.

Apologies are good and they should be accepted, but the consequences and the loss of integrity is unfortunately, unforgettable. They have stood up and recovered from their sins but the people they have brought down with them are still flat on their faces in offense. Sometimes people don’t understand that, like these Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptists church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress.

I sure would like to hear him preach on morality, on clean living, on holiness, on cinemas, on underwear, on honesty, on Desperate Housewives, on government corruption, on evangelism, on counseling, on good stewardship etc. I’m sure it would be fun to listen to him—and his stand up comedy.



Imitate me, then, just as I don’t imitate Christ. 1 Col. 11:1 (The Bad News Bible)

Tuesday, October 23, 2007




I was a bit touched when a classmate of mine handed me a note saying that he looked up to me as a “real parent.” She thanked me for being kind and for being generous to my classmates. I am a bit rattled because I am not that “close” to them (I am close to them but not in the sense of “close.”). It’s a generation thing really because I can’t relate to the music they listen to, the TV shows they watch (Pinoy Big Brother) and I can’t even keep up with their energy and enthusiasm. So, all a long I was just there in the class most of the time silent, just observing them. So I was thinking what made me generous to them?

Hmmmm….I’m thinking. Maybe it’s because they always ask me for some yellow papers (legal writing paper). It’s like this, most of the time (especially in my junior and senior years) I go to school carrying nothing but a pad of yellow paper and a pen. So whenever there’s a quiz, most of them would look at me, smile and say, “Daddy, can I have a yellow paper?”

Sometimes they come to me for advice.

Sometimes they ask me for a peso or two but they usually pay it back. I remember when we had a play about the life of Rizal. I wrote the script so I was exempted from doing anything else. But sometimes during their practices, I visited them twice and I brought with me pandecocos (bread with coconut filling) and like little girls some of them would jump and shout, “Daddy has brought us some meriendas!” Of course I did not do it to impress my classmates. The easiest thing to do is to impress people; all that takes is the ability to lie without flinching. No, it’s not to impress them. It’s really to ease my guilt at seeing my classmates practicing the play immediately after our classes while I had nothing to do.

This is not unique for me because our class has mommies too, student my age who are also studying to be teachers. They are treated the same way I was treated, like a parent. I remember one of these mommies distributing gelatins and candies and sweets to the class and my classmates, like children, were so happy.

Of course to us adult students, these little things, like giving those candies or the pandecocos are nothing but random acts of little kindness but for me (I don’t know about the mommies) and maybe without me knowing it, I had created an image in their minds of me being a daddy or a big brother.

Here’s the funny part, I think I conformed to that daddy or big brother image not because I tried to be one, but because unconsciously, I began to see myself hating to disappoint these little classmates of mine.

These little classmates of mine inspired me, and I hope in some ways I inspired them too.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Blind Willie Johnson Trouble Soon be Over

I love traditional blues. This one is a gospel blues sung by Blind Willie Johnson. YOu van feel the music through the black and white movie as well as in the guitar playing and singing. So spiritual!

Friday, October 19, 2007

I feel like a Daddy!

Posing with my classmates as we line up for our lunch during our student teacher enhancement seminar. As you can see, there are very few men/male who take elementary education here in the Philippines, eighty percent of my classmates are beautiful ma'ams.




With Michelle the bunso (youngest or should I say the cutest) of the class. I am very proud of my classmates. I can't help but feel emotional because a few months from now we will be on our own as teachers amd I will be missing how they make fun of me. Four years of being the Kuya and Daddy to these wonderful human beings and now we'll be spread across the province of Rizal for our practice teaching. My gulay, what an emotional moment.
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Posing with the campus mothers: The lady in yellow, the one with the glasses is the mother of the campus Mrs. Violeta T. Cano, the Dean of the Institute of Education. She has been teaching for more than three decades now. As a testament to her dedication and staying power, the University President and the Campus Chancellor were her former students and it's wonderful how they acknowledge Mommy Cano whenever they give speeches. Besides Mommy Cano is the Cluster II Director for Student Development (I forgot her name!) and the Cluster II Campus Chancellor Dr. Reneecillia Paz-de Leon.

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We felt like brave soldiers being commissioned for battle.
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I love my humble school.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

What!? No Sembreak!!!!

I thought that we will be having a semestral break but I'm wrong! Instead we will be having student teacher enhancement seminar for two weeks and then after that enrollment. I thought I'd have two weeks of undisturbed reading and blogging and guitar playing and revising my thesis and writing my community immersion papers etc. No rest!

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Barber Talk

When I entered the barbershop, I heard two barbers having a passionate discussion about Manny “the National Fist” Pacquaio.

First Barber: “How can they make Manny a hero? Heroes don’t get paid! Heroes don’t gamble! Heroes don’t have extra marital affairs; heroes don’t punch people because of road rage…etc.”

Second Barber: “He is called a hero because he brought honor to the country!”

First Barber: “Since when did hurting other people become honorable?”

Second Barber: “He is a hero because everybody admired him!”

First barber: “That’s wrong! That’s why I tell my children not to admire Manny.”

Third Barber: “He is a hero because he can knock people down!” He is a punching hero!”

First Barber: “ What is happening to the Filipinos?! Ninoy Aquino is a hero because he died for the country, so is Rizal, Bonifacio…these people are heroes not Pacquaio.

Fourth Barber: “Relax. You can teach your children not to admire Manny as a hero but you can’t do anything about other people who admire Manny as a hero!”

Second barber: “This is a democracy!”

First Barber: “See what kind of people admires Pacquaio! You even have the Vice President of the Republic of the Philippines in the ringside….and then being interviewed…look at them…there’s senators congressmen etc.

Second Barber: “That’s politics…”

My barber finished the haircut shaved the hairs on my napes and patilyas (or sideburns). I paid the barber and left the shop. As I close the door, the barbers are still discussing Pacquaio. I can only wonder where the discussions will go next.

(Manny Pacquaio is being hailed as a national hero. This is sad because we all know that its just a marketing ploy.)

Monday, October 15, 2007

My daughter's questions

“Father, what would you like to be when you grow up?”
My daughter asked me
I answered, “I am already old my dear daughter
Look, I am your father and I already have some white hairs.”

“No, What I meant is what would you like to be?”
My daughter asked me again.
And I said,
“I am already old and it’s too late to be a be.”

“Then why are you studying to be a teacher?”
My daughter smiled.
“To tell the truth my dear daughter,
I don’t know why I’m studying to be a teacher”

“All I know is God have a plan for me.
So, please stop asking me
Because it is God who will make me
What He wants me to be.”

“So what does God wants you to be?”
My daughter can’t help but ask.
I just smiled because I know
That that’s the time to shut up.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Cofee talk


One of my childhood friends came by to borrow our celphone charger. I haven’t had a talk with my buddies for a long time, so I asked him to sit for a cup of coffee (no, not beer…) and a little reminiscing to go with it. We talked about our childhood and all the adventures and misadventures that we did then.
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Talking to a childhood friend is like talking with a brother, there’s sincerity especially if you really knew the person. It’s an honest to goodness conversation and then I realized that I missed it, the chatting. Although my friends lived only a few meters away from our house yet family and work created distance.

I asked my friend this, “What do you think if I became a pastor?” My friend laughed! I laughed. My wife laughed too. We all laughed. My friend looked at me and told me, “Knowing you, my friend, I can’t think of you being anything but the old George.” No, I’m not hurt or anything because he's just being honest.
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“Why, did I not change?” I said. My friend looked at me and said that he has seen a lot of changes in me it’s just that he knows me too well; he knew of the things that I did. My friend can’t imagine me being holy or something. Well at least he’s being honest about it.

It’s been along time since I had a talk with my childhood buddies and its getting rarer and rarer by the year. We’re thinking of having a reunion. We are all now in our thirties and it’s funny because of what we all became. Two are engineers, one is a former drug user and is now a policeman, one became a pastor and is now out of the closet gay, one a former logistics manager and now a bum, one a former contractor who married an OFW nurse and is now living a pensioned life, one became a bus conductor, and I am the oddity of all the oddities, I became a student.


My life has been full of ironies. I hate school and now I’m going to be a teacher…hmmm. I laughed at being a pastor and yet I am teaching music, Sunday school and I am even preaching in the church. My gulay , I sometimes think that God is humoring me (I meant that in a nice way of course).

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Barefootin'


I slipped off my flip-flops and walked barefoot on the pavement. People were smiling, some of them were shaking their heads and some were just pretending that they were not looking at me. No, I didn’t go crazy or something, I am just experimenting and trying out what I heard from a lecture in our reflexology class (part of our non-formal education course).

The instructor was discussing pressure points and nerve endings and all those stuffs about reflexology. To tell the truth I am not that interested with reflexology, so I’m just being polite and pretended that I’m taking down notes. I have nothing against the instructor; it’s just that the subject was boring. But then the instructor discussed the history of reflexology and she mentioned how the people from the earlier times especially the American Indians were healthier than the people today because the people from the earlier times wore no shoes while the people today wear shoes. She said that according to the textbook, the gravel and the soil and the branches that the early people stepped on stimulated nerve endings on their bare feet thus activating nerve points that stimulates the inner organ and stimulates the release of hormones and making them healthier—the predecessor of today’s reflexology

Naahh….I don’t know if such claim can be scientifically proven i.e. people who walk barefoot live longer than people who wear shoes or slippers. Experience tells otherwise, when I was a child I almost died of tetanus (not really almost died of tetanus, truth is I almost died of panic becuase of my mother's shriek and shouting and yelling and calling on the neighbors for help) when I accidentally stepped on a rusty nail. One of my friends was walking barefoot when a dog poop almost killed him. He accidentally stepped on the poop, lifted his foot, looked at it when he lost his balance and almost fell headfirst. I remember my mother telling me that worms enter the blood stream through the pores of the feet. That’s why I grew up with the thinking that walking barefoot is not good.

Anyways…I was curious so I tried walking barefoot. To tell the truth, it felt good.

I was wondering if walking barefoot on fire can be considered a super duper reflexology…I mean it can not only stimulate the nerve, it can stimulate everything!. It also simulates hell…nahhh.

Monday, October 08, 2007

Duetos de sintunados/Seek ye first



My 8 year old daughter playing Seek ye First on the bamboo flute. My wife took the video using a celphone. Look at my daughter's eyes, she was giving my wife the look because my wife was smiling everytime my daughter hit a flat note.

I hope my daughter will take music more seriously than her father.

I know whom I had believeth


My favorite hymn. I was singing the melody as I was playing...my daughter is taking the video and if you listen carefully you will hear her chewing candies and there's the broooom of motorbike passing by on the last part of the video.

I love this hymn especially the Tagalog version.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

The Lathe of Heaven



Dreams. I have always had this fascination about dreams, so mysterious and powerful. I am not talking about aspirations or those things that people dream while they’re awake. I’m talking about dreams that people have when they are asleep.

Imagine having the power to make your dream come true, I mean literally come true. It would be fascinating and at the same time scary waking up to a different world every time you wake up.


Imagine having the power to change reality through dreams.

I read this interesting sci-fi classic (it was made into a movie according to the cover) by Ursula K. Le Guin (one of the best in the genre) titled “The Lathe of Heaven.” The story is about a man whose dream can change reality.

The novel was set in future, the year 2002, a time when there are tamed aliens roaming the earth.

George Orr realized that whatever he dreamed became reality. Not all his dreams could do it, only the “effective” ones; the ones that are produced in deep sleep. He was afraid of this power, so he avoided sleeping. He took prohibited drugs that gave him dreamless sleep.

Orr was caught using other people’s prescription. He was arrested and taken to counseling. He was given a choice, voluntary therapeutic treatment (VTT) or Obligatory therapeutic treatment (OTT), which is the nut house. George submitted himself to the VTT program. His therapist is Dr. William Haber, a psychiatrist and a researcher on dreams. Haber discovered Orr’s power. He used hypnosis and a device of his own design which he called “the Augmentor”…(hmmm…the Augmentor… an interesting name that sounds more like a plastic surgeon’s device) to manipulate Orr’s dreams to change the world, to make it a better world.

Haber, through hypnosis, asked Orr to solve the population problem and through this suggestion Orr dreamt of a less populated world. But when George woke up, he was shocked to find out that in this world that his dream created, billions of people died because of a plague, and that solved the overpopulation problem but the death of those billions of people was on his conscience. He kept the memory of the past realities, Dr. Haber kept them too, but the world has no idea that reality was being changed by Orr’s dreams. The change was so complete that if Orr dreamt of a pink dog, even evolution will produce a pink dog; the changes are untraceable except for Orr, Haber and a lady lawyer.

Haber made Orr solve wars. When Orr woke up to a new world, there was unity in the world, the only problem was there was an alien invasion and this is what made the warring countries unite—in defense of earth.

Haber made Orr solve racial discrimination. When Orr woke up, all the people in the world has one skin color. There was no racial discrimination, but people with sickness and diseases were arrested and euthenized.

Problems were solved by Orr’s dreams but the dreams have its own way of solving the problem; Orr has no control over it. Orr has no power over his dreams.

Orr only wants the dreams to stop.

The sessions stopped and Haber took away Orr’s powers by telling Orr that his dream does not have the power to change reality.

Orr woke up to a normal life. He was on his way home, together with his wife, the lady lawyer, when he suddenly realized that something was not right. He watched as reality was being changed. He ran back to the lab and he found Dr. Haber sleeping with a device attached to his head. Orr realized that Haber had somehow discovered a way to have dreams like his. Haber was changing the world in his own image of it. Orr realized what would happen and stopped Haber.

Haber went mad and Orr continued on with his normal life.

(There are turtle like aliens in the story that knew dreams, but they speak different language so Orr can’t understand what in the world these aliens are saying about his dreams.)



Why do we have this reality? Once in a while we have these questions. I don’t know but the novel by Le Guin made me think about reality. Like the question my Sunday school students asked: Why do we have this reality and not the other reality where it’s the man who ate the apple in the Garden of Eden? (My reply to that was, would it make a difference because if that was the case then we would be thinking of a reality where it was the woman who ate the apple in the Garden of Eden and where back here thinking about a reality where it was the woman who ate the apple in the garden of Eden and if that were so, then we would be thinking of a reality where it was the man who ate the apple in the Garden of Eden…)

It’s like a game, we can think of having reality according to our image of it and would it still be a better world? Or each one of us can have realities of one’s own where one can be in control. Maybe this is madness, maybe insane people have this world of their own, a universe of their own and its us whose outside it, that’s why we can’t understand them or them us…Or it may even be true that each person has his own perspective on things that in a way made each individual’s experience of reality different from the other people’s experience of reality that what they are actually experiencing is a different reality from what the other is experiencing as their own reality, so, there’s this difference of experiences of realities from other people’s experiences of realities. We all have experiences of realities that is unique to our own…it’s like we are all interconnected realities and universe….I just made a breakthrough here! I have come to the very deep realization of what reality is really all about and I suddenly realized, it’s like the “Eureka phenomenon” you know, hey Eureka there’s something I realized about reality! That is reality is reality….is the realization that I need to go to the comfort room. I had too much fish cooked in coconut milk and it’s making me…realized that I’m losing touch of reality.

Maybe Leibniz is right when he said that this reality is the best reality we have, the best of all possible worlds.

I can live with that.

Le Guin’s book is outstanding, a classic. There is humanity in the story (what ever that means).

(I am reading an old Robert Heinlein novel about twins, telepathy, interstellar travel and psychology. I’ll talk some nonsense about it when I’m done.)

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Carabao English



One of the first things I learned while watching Sesame Street is the realization that there’s many English. There’s Birtish English, there’s American, there’s Black American English, there Hispanic, and being one of the English speaking countries, I am sure there’s such a thing as Filipino English or Carabao English. The differences can be as minor as pronunciation to as major as grammar and idioms.

I saw this TV special about China’s preparation for the Olympics. In the program the Chinese were shown implementing programs to train their people, especially those in the Beijing area, to speak English. To check if the program was working, one of the reporters rode a taxi and he asked the driver to take him to the railroad station. The taxi driver was scratching his head and told the interpreter that he can’t understand. They tried it to different taxi drivers and the result were always the same. Even simple words like proper nouns were beyond the common Chinese to understand. This made me realize that even though English as a second language is declining in the Philippines yet we are still better at it than other countries for even the smallest child here have enough vocabulary for an understandable and decent conversation in Carabao English (or Pidgin English).

Monday, October 01, 2007

Yeheyyy!



Yehheeyyy! My friend and classmate Rommel came knocking at...or rather shouting at our house carrying this cake. He told me that this was for me. I was surprised because it is three months too late and ten months too early for my birthday. After the initial surprise had vanished, Rommel told me that I was one of the winners of the school’s cake raffle. Hmmm…and….hmmm when was the last time I won anything…hmmm….and….hmmmm too long ago to remember.

We ate the cake with gusto. Little and unexpected things like this makes me very happy.

I got a bikelog?

A year ago, I asked my daughter for a loan so that I could buy a mountain bike. This was in the middle of May 2021 and the pandemic was stil...