Fernando Amorsolo

Fernando Amorsolo y Cueto (May 30, 1892 – April 24, 1972) is one of the most important artists in the history of painting in the Philippines. Amorsolo was a portraitist and painter of rural Philippine landscapes. He is popularly known for his craftsmanship and mastery in the use of light. Born in Paco, Manila, he earned a degree from the Liceo de Manila Art School in 1909. 


Amorsolo is best known for his illuminated landscapes,  which often portrayed traditional Filipino customs, culture, fiestas and occupations. His pastoral works presented "an imagined sense of nationhood in counterpoint to American colonial rule" and were important to the formation of Filipino national identity. 

Sketch of a woman, whose unfinished style is representative of Amorsolo's sketching.

He was educated in the classical tradition and aimed "to achieve his Philippine version of the Greek ideal for the human form."^] In his paintings of Filipina women, Amorsolo rejected Western ideals of beauty in favor of Filipino ideals  and was fond of basing the faces of his subjects on members of his family. 

"[The women I paint should have] a rounded face, not of the oval type often presented to us in newspapers and magazine illustrations. The eyes should be exceptionally lively, not the dreamy, sleepy type that characterizes the Mongolian. The nose should be of the blunt form but firm and strongly marked. ... So the ideal Filipina beauty should not necessarily be white complexioned, nor of the dark brown color of the typical Malayan, but of the clear skin or fresh colored type which we often witness when we met a blushing girl."

(From Wikipedia)

Sad Day Today

Mrs. Nora Echalas one of the principals from the district of Taytay 1 passed away yesterday. She was the principal of Hapay na Mangga Elementary School. Her passing was a surprise for all of us because when she observed our classes a couple of weeks ago, she looked well. 

According to Mrs. Lulu Gerardo, our principal and district supervisor, Mrs. Echalas was alone in her office when she had an asthma attack. She called out for help but she did not make it to the hospital. She was 42 years old.

It was a sad day for all of us. I did not know her well because she was new to the district. But I was acquainted with her during the district school journalism seminar because she was the district consultant in Filipino.

I and the teachers of TES  give our condolences to her family.

Amaya

 Amaya is a popular epic-historical TV series shown on GMA Channel 7. 

To show that GMA is serious about the cultural and hsitorical aspect of the series,  a documentary special was shown to show to the viewing public the effort the network had gone through to make sure of the historicity of the series.

Historians were consulted to make sure that the character had some historical parallel.  Anthropologist, archaeologists and other experts were interviewed to add authority to the claim of historical accuracy to the settings and the implements etc.. Ancient Filipino languages experts also contributed their knowledge of ancient Filipino language so that the dialog would be appropriate for the time setting. Hence, the dialogs are anachronistic.

DepEd and National Historical Institute even promoted the program for its historical and cultural value. Blah,blah,blah...But they missed one important and obvious detail.

For heaven's sake, she is a meztiza. I have nothing against Marian, but she looks like a Spanish seniora, an alien (not that alien).

The fictional epic (as in epically inspired by Korean epic historical TV series featuring epic historical women) was supposed to be set in the Visayas before the coming of the Spaniards. Hence, common sense, or logic, or my brain, tells me that  pre-Spanish Filipinas should look like pre-Spanish Filipinas. 

This is how I imagine a pre- Spanish, pre-Vicky Bello, pre-Glutathione Filipina should look like. 

What I mean is that I believe, even historians, anthropologists, archaelogists, biologists and lobotomists would agree with me that meztizas were not supposed to exist before the Spanish era.

 Of course, they have artistic and creative freedom...I am just asking!

Friday Blues...(not that Blues)

Friday and feeling a little down. It’s because of money, lack of it. No matter how I try to be a little aloof, or stoical (?) about money, still  the lack of it could sometimes put me down. Hmmm… The feeling is quite natural especially in this age where the temple of materialism and consumerism abounds promoting materialism and consumerism, what else? One pastor calls them SM or Satan’s Mall. But I wouldn’t go that far…maybe Satanic Malls would be better. Just  kidding. Malls are amoral, they have no idea what is right or wrong or evil or good, etc. They are just buildings filled made up of matter for heaven’s sake.

SM Mall of Asia (MOA) is a shopping mall owned and developed by SM Prime Holdings, the largest mall developer and owner in the Philippines. SM Mall of Asia is the 2nd largest mall in the Philippines after SM City North EDSA, 3rd largest shopping mall in Asia and the 4th^[1] (Ref. Forbes' World's 10 Largest Shopping Malls) largest shopping mall in the world.

We just received our Christmas compensation and even before the money could land on the table (I put my salary on the table in front of my daughter and wife, and we all do the budgeting to let my daughter see how every cent is accounted for). Before the money landed on the table, it already went to bill enevelopes. But there were still some debt unpaid, waiting for the next compensation before finally being settled, I hope. At least I have given my wife and my daughter their Christmas money. But as my co-teachers and master teachers always tell me, “at least there is money that passes by your hands” (Sounds better in Tagalog).

Money sure can't buy happiness but at least they could buy stuffs.

I was planning to buy two sets of guitar strings, nylon and steel, for my guitars, but I guess it will have to wait for hmmm…ever. Good guitar strings are quite expensive. I hope instrument makers will develop strings that do not break or lose their  tone.

Guitar strings, especially nylons, lasts long but they tend to become dull and lose their tones because of the stretching and the contracting.

One of the reasons I miss my childhood is that I missed the naiveté (not the nativity) of Christmas. I grew up during the martial law era. Life was quite simple then because there were not that much stuff around. There were no TV lifestyle, or reality shows that promotes hedonistic living; shows that makes one want to rob a bank so that he/she could get money and at least get a taste of high living. Most of the TV shows then was Marcos proclaiming something on the TV, all stations both TV and radio. Even Voltes V was banned from being shown; may corrupt the youth’s mind. I suspect Marcos was afraid that some genius would create a robot or something that could challenge his security force.

Out you go...you Japanese invader. I think one of the reasons why many Filipino supported Cory Aquino was because they despised, deeply hated Marcos for pulling Voltes V out of air . The family was not forgiven and the act not forgotten. Voltes V is a cult here in the Philippines.

Compared today, there are a lot of stuff everywhere. Of course its not that I miss the martial law days. What I really miss is the childness of Christmas.

Anyway, I am thankful for Christmas because, really, Christmas means grace…and I should be writing my lesson plans!

Dividing the world

I see things. You see things. We all see things.

There’s a chair.

I see an ugly chair. You see an expensive antique furiture. We all see a chair.

I see something to sit on. You see an investment. We all see a chair.

We all experience and perceive a chair.

But what is that chair?

The chair is what we see. We all see a chair. We all see the same chair. We all see different chairs.

Easy enough to explain what a chair is.

Here we must explain two different worlds.

The world we perceive. Everything that comes to our senses is what reality to us is.

This is called Phenomenon

But there’s another world…

The world beyond our perception, beyond our knowledge.

The world we will never know--noumenon.  The noumenon are inhabited by the Noumena. Noumena are things in themselves.

What we perceive  are only properties of the chair; we do not percieve the real chair. We will not be able to perceive and apprehend  the real chair--the thing in itself.

Crazy, no such things as noumenon.  

Then if there’s no noumeon; we know everything. Because everything we know, we perceive--apriori, a posteriori.

But we know, we do not know everything; we can not know everything.

Noumenon. The world beyond our perception. The world we will not perceive but we know it must exist.

Noumenon is  Heaven!

Or Hell...

Or God

Philo indigestion :-)

Pitter-patter of the rain

Listening and watching the rain is relaxing. When I look at plants and trees, I could imaging them smiling and dancing as the drops of water refresh them...Or, I could just be hungry or crazy or something. Also, I imagine champurado, lugaw and dvd marathon. 

In my room having my in-between classes break enjoying the pitter-patter of the rain. This is the kind of weather that I really enjoy, wet, damp and cold.  I observe that in this weather the pupils slow down. They tend to huddle together and keep still. Unlike when the weather is hot, they tend to move around a lot, fanning themselves. They gather together near the windows to catch a cool breeze here and then. They fight over seats near the electric fans. When it’s hot, they are restless; when it’s cold, they are relatively calm and relaxed. Of course, when it rains or even drizzles most of them are always asking when the classes would be suspended.

My daughter enjoying the rain. One of the things I enjoy is motorcycling or bicycling in the rain. 

I remember when I was in grade school classes were suspended based on storm signals. Those days, its not unusual for me and my classmates to go home in knee deep water . But today, because of Typhoon Ondoy and the flash floods it brought, the authorities are not taking chances; they suspend classes when they think the threat of flood is becoming imminent without that much respect to typhoon signals. I suppose its better to be safe than sorry.

 But now, the pupils have gotten used to classes being suspended because of rain and flood that even a drizzle gives them suggestion of classes being suspended. Teachers don't like suspension of classes because we would be obliged to have make up classes on weekends.

Rain and Christmas is in the air. This is a bad combination, wet and cold-- bronchitis; that is, if one is not careful with his/her health.

It’s becoming more and more difficult to wake up in the morning because of the cold air. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting shorter. Christmas songs that used to cheer me up when I was a child are now giving me depression. Gaawwddd, really, I think I am becoming a scrooge.

But, it’s okay, as long as the children are having a good time.

_____________________________________________________

Pupils: “Sir! When is our Christmas party?”

Me: “January 5!”

Pupils: “Sir!!!!”

Me: “I am expecting gifts this Christmas?”

Pupils: “Will give you chewing gums!”

Thoughts about God, deconstruction, and other weird thoughts

If Horses could draw, they would draw their gods like horses.--Xenophanes of Colophon.

 Of course, he was deriding the Greek polytheism. Our conception of God depends on our conception of ourselves. Our relationship with God depends on how we relate to ourselves. We cannot, though it is always emphasized, as I perceive it, create a purely "doctrinal biblical" relationship with God; there's always subjectivity.

I don’t know why, but every day, every damned day, the thought of God kept nagging me. I don’t mean to be blasphemous or sacrilegious or sacrilegiously blasphemous or even an anti-Christ but there’s something irresistibly nagging and itchy, mentally itchy, about the thought of God. It’s like the patches of dandruff on my head that my hand kept scratching and flaking even though the dandruff has long been cured, temporarily, that is. (Why do dandruffs keep coming back?)

Not my dandruff, just a random picture I downloaded from the net. There's an itch in all of us to try to grasp existential and metaphysical (wow, don't know these word myself but they do sound good) things. To go beyond the unknowable. Either the itch is  drowned or suppressed by dogmatism and legalism or the itch is entertained by exploring the itch (I don't know if I'm making any sense here) and uncovering the flakes little by little.

I grew up in a Christian family who was once a Roman Catholic then was converted to Southern Baptist. And the family’s, especially my, conception of God has always been what I would call an orthodox (again the word may not mean correct or right, it may just simply mean “what the majority accepts as true”) conception of God. God is almighty; God is omnipresent; God is omniscient; God is perfect. If you are good, God will answer your prayer; but, if you have been bad, God will not listen to you. Then there’s the Trinity, hierarchy of Angels. The doctrine about the afterlife: heaven and hell, or we may add purgatory. And other logical, supra-logical and counter intuitive stuff that ordinary human beings would just call WTF.

(What is That For?!)

When I started exploring a little theology (dangerous, should have kept myself away),  fancy theological-philosophical stuff like theodicy, justification,  sin, ethics etc. popped up which made theology a more or less an armchair discipline i.e more of a philosophical enterprise, and, as is known; philosophers have one tool for doing philosophy, the armchair.

Philosophers have one method of doing their thing: sitting down and thinking. They have no laboratories, no  test tubes, flask, rulers....they do everything in their heads. Their thought experiments produced profound results and world changing,  paradigm shifting ideas; and their butts, I'm sure, produced humongous callouses.

One thing about theology is that, well for me, it started in my head a chain of events…a sort of…not really doubting, but a deconstruction of God and other heavenly stuff. Deconstruction is simply questioning assumptions; as the word implies, it means taking things or assumptions apart to see if the assertions are true, or if they make sense, or if they show identity; or sometimes, by deconstruction, we may arrive at conclusions that words are just words referring to words predicated on words. In search for meaning, by deconstructing, we may find at least a modicum of truth or sense in the endless peeling of the onion skin, to speak of.

What's behind every question?

Of course, there are people who are afraid of this kind of activity. They are afraid; they are afraid of what’s at the center of the onion—nothing but skin, everything is but layers of skin.

Guess this photo is for sale. Anyway, we should not be afraid of exploring the question of God. We should not even be afraid of deconstructing our idea God. Children do it all the time and it sure does not affect God in anyway at all. Our awe and wander should of God should not be boxed and encapsulated with doctrines and dogmatism. All these things, dogmas and doctrines, are relative formulations based on the the word of God. And these things do change as each age have different  challenges that faces them. Heck, there are medieval doctrines that would not be acceptable today and there are doctrines today that would be heretical to the medieval mind. Example for our generation is gender equality, environmental issues...But there are core doctrine or dogmas that do not change. Nothing wrong with doctrines or dogma or even tradition, they are good; they help. But they also confine...

Child: Where do flowers came from?

Adult: They came from plants.

Child: Where do plants came from?

Adult: They came from seeds?

Child: Where do seeds came from?

Adult: They came from fruits?

Child: Where do fruits came from?

Adult: They came from trees?

Child: Where do trees came from?

Adult: God made them.

Here’s where things get a little fuzzy-wuzzy and where we adults simply prayed about  not encountering.

Child: Who made God?

Adult: God has always existed.

Of course, we would rather have the child ask about Bible characters, Bible doctrines, Bible promises, Bible commandments…But children are more profound than that. They are not still. I mean their thinking is not yet confined to Biblical doctrines or dogma. So, the question continues…

Child: Who made God?

Adult: God was never created. He is, was, and will be.

Child: Who made God?

Of course, I know the answer to that question. God is.

The questions continue:

Child: Who made God?

Most adults give up because they dare not tackle the question of God because its taboo. But for a child, nothing is taboo. This is a child deconstructing God, or our conception of God for us.

Children ask what is God, where God came from, who created God and not who God is. This is the first fundamental theological question or the starting point of a theological exploration that we all (or most) encounter as a child.

Most religion based their beliefs in God or Gods or Deities on revelations like holy books, nature, dreams, visions or other hmmm....levels of "inspired" revelation. Of course, the best way to preserve this beliefs is to codify them and pronounce divine inspiration on these codified belief whether it be written down or memorized oral traditions. 

Anyway, where am I, so, it is understandable why it is necessary for some people to do their own exploring about God. Honest labor, I should say. But these explorations and the conclusions they came up did not sit well with orthodoxy so many of these ideas or conception about were either banned, exhumed, burned; their authors killed, anathemized, anathemized and killed and burned, or ..well, they were removed from existence because their views about God do not sit well with organized religion, tithing and love gifts.

Anyway, a thought entered my mind...Its just painful to realize that he Bible promises to answer all our questions about the mysteries of God and life only when we die. I do admire philosophers for their courage to look into these things, these mysteries...

 Of course, we all should humble ourselves before God. After reading this, you may now begin to doubt my mental heath or my spiritual health. This is my faith:

I believe in the God revealed in the Holy Bible.

I believe in the inspiration of the Bible.

I believe in God's grace and in God's justice.

I believe that Jesus Christ was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of a virgin mother, lived as human being, preached God's kingdom and healed people, died for me and mys sins and because of this, I am saved.

I believe Jesus is God incarnate.

I believe in the Holy Spirit.

I believe in the fellowship of all Christians.

I believe that heaven is spending eternity with God. 

I believe hell is spending eternity apart from God.

I believe in prayers and I submit myself to Christian disciplines...except excommunication.

Not that much systematic theology in here...but I believe my Faith is pretty solid.

I also believe that God gave us the mind and the freedom to explore, think and just let our meander once in a while into the unknowable.

Mid Life Crisis 2, Retirement, Bad Report Card, Spitting Image

As I approach my middle (sort of a countdown), I try to not think too much about stuffs; relax is what I mean. The problem is that I do think. Maybe it’s a hormonal or a psychological call it whatever name it may be called; but, lately (though I tried to not to) I notice that I am becoming more of a worrier than a thinker. Not that I am much of a thinker, anyway.

I know worrying is not healthy, and even to some Christians worrying is a sign of weakness, floundering  faith, and some even say it’s a form of lesser sin—missing the mark, I suppose. But thinking or worrying is one those things, bodily function or mental activity, that I (or anybody) could not just shut off. I mean, I for one would like to have the mental switch that I could manipulate to switch off thinking or worrying—I mean you cannot worry if you’re not thinking, vice versa.

Where's the damned switch?

Reaching forty, or the fear of it, I am now thinking of retirement. Job promotion is not my mind,  retirement is. I mean, I have only twenty years of teaching, most teachers take ten or more years plus graduate studies to get a pay grade hike, for me that is just too much. Not thinking of graduate studies, I stopped with 12 units in ED Management, who knows in the future. All I want is job security and when I retire a little lot in Quezon Province to plant camote. 

The nightmare!

Vision or delusion of wealth, achievements or grandeur has left me twenty years ago!  All I am looking forward to is a quiet retirement. That is one of the reasons why I am encouraging my daughter to study--a selfish reason, really. That is why I am trying, with my salary as a teacher 1, to provide for her a school that I think would suit her—a Christian School, not necessarily cheap and charitable or "Christian"--its really the perception that the school is good, that' all there is to it.

 I hope for her to be independent so that when it comes to my and her mother’s retirement, she is already well on her way off. My greatest fear is that, like most Filipinos, she would be a dependent i.e. living with us with her husband and children. For heavens sake...pleeeeaaaassseeee nnnnoooooo. I pray not. My Goooddd....nnnnooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....


 I am not looking to her to be our retirement insurance or thing like that. I know most parents think of their children as retirement plans, not me.  I just want her to be happily married and doing okay, not rich, just okay, maybe a teacher, an engineer or an embalmer...whatever makes her happy.

Where am I going?

I got my daughter’s report card, and I was really disappointed. I am not expecting her to have grades worthy  of a scholar, a genius, (not in our blood, anyway). (I came from a family of weirdos, but we are not really that smart.) No, I am not expecting such things. All I am expecting was progress, tiny, little, bitty, microscopic progress. (I SEEK PROGRESS AND NOT PERFECTION--shouting my motto as a teacher.)  I was her former teacher and I am her father, I know what she is capable of, but the progress I am expecting was not reflected in the report card.

Hmmm…worried. No matter how I tried to be philosophical and objective, I just cannot get over the disappointment.But, I am more of a pessimist than an optimist and as they say, pessimist are never disappointed.

I am thinking of shouting at my daughter. Preaching to her about hell and damnation in Gehenna or whatever place it is till my tonsils fall off--start from Genesis to Revelation plus the Apocrypha . Or, I could smash her head with books till her head bleeds.Or plead with her like Mary pleading for the life of Jesus...or stuffs like that. Heck, I could just make her stop schooling.

 Hmmm...think about these things till they dry off.

I have been trying to cool off for two days now. I am not at home, I am at the school writing this. I can’t stand looking at my daughter, not that I don't love her anymore,—not angry, really, just disappointed—come to think of it, I don’t know which is worse. I have been quiet for two days now...thinking, simmering, and letting the steam off.

But then, introspection sets in. I am seeing in my daughter myself: the same lackadaisical attitude towards school, contempt for authority and even irreverence and dislike for religion, religious people and religious nonsense . My God! She is me.

That is why I am worried.

I am already starting to feel better...

But I know she will come about. I know because I know there's a lot of me in her (and a lot of her mother in her)…rebellious, hard, but I know when to quit the foolish stuff and start taking the bull by the horn and crushing the balls by the scrotum...

Mid-life crisis

About eight months from now, I will be 40. I am half a year to (my) middle age:  it’s all downhill from here. The realization that it’s the age where my body starts to break down; my metabolism slows down; my body does not produce replacement cells it ought to keep the body working properly, makes me stop for a while and think about nothing, sort of, about my life. 


The decline could be slowed down by exercise and proper diet, but, still, it’s all downhill from here now on. Pains and aches do not go away that easily. Wrong food could wreck havoc on my day for instance eating too much beans gives me rheumatism and head aches. My body becomes my frail master.

Hindsight becomes the predominant thinking and foresight takes a backseat. Maybe it’s because there’s not that much to look forward to. In the middle and thinking, half of my life’s spent. Now, what I am going to do? Thinking about the past mistakes and wishing that my daughter would not make the same mistakes that I have been through; the thought is so stressing that mere thinking about these things tires me out.

 I think this is quite normal especially for people going through middle age.

Now, I want to take it slow. I ride my motorcycle slow.   I wake up early and jog. I wake before dawn to have a longer day.  I sleep early to have a longer night of rest. I try not to think that much. I listen to music more; look at trees and flowers with a feminine appreciation for things of such beauty. Appreciate the chirping of birds and look at the sky with awe and childlike wonder, as if that is still possible.

Of course I try not to think about death. But it’s a subject that becomes certain, or looms with certainty more than anything when I am about to break the psychological boundary of midlife, 40. In my youth, death hardly touches the surface of my thinking. I used to think that thirty is old. Forty five, the age my father died, is the limit. I am still young, and I dare not think about tomorrow. But now, I realized that thirty is young and dying at forty five is waste. As the thought of death looms, the looking back at the days of youth becomes painful.

Haaaaa…I need to have more fun. Now, I realized that a person should not spend his youth drinking and partying instead he should drink and party in his mid life.

Of course, I am too old for that now.

MP, Boxing, Heroes, etc...

To tell the truth, I am pretty disappointed that Manny Pacquiao won against Morales. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a traitor nor do I hate MP. It's just that the predictability of the match is so predictable (I don’t know if I’m making any sense here) that the fight is just not that fun.

I don’t know if anybody notices it, but MP’s fights are getting longer and longer and I, and most of his fans, I guess, are looking forward to the hungry, I will knock the hell-out-of-you MP of the past. His matches are beginning or are already more of a business venture and entertainment than really raw boxing. Not that there’s something wrong with it, but really I miss the animal in him. Maybe he already feels his age.

Time may come...

But anyway, as a Filipino, I am still proud of the man.

The media hype...

I have one thing about all of this though. I have nothing against MP, and I assume that he is the man the press portrays him to be. But I doubt that…The way the press promotes him, the media hype which I call the mythologization of Pacquaio has it negative side to it.

Champion and the myth

There are other heroes. There are other Filipinos who, I think, deserves equal media treatment as MP. Many of this heroes are overshadowed by boxing. There are those who do well in the arts, academics, public service, science, etc. 

Let’s face it; he is not the poor boy from GenSan anymore. He is already the billionaire Pacquiao and his success story is a good and an inspiring story. Unfortunately, his story, though inspiring, if we take into account probability, have very little chance of being duplicated. If we keep on promoting his life, we may end up killing many aspiring young boxers.

In November of 1981, Korean boxer Duk Koo Kim dies after brutal fight with Ray 'Boom Boom' Mancini (below, in 1999). The tragic death forever tormented Mancini and changed the sport of boxing.

More and more of our youth, especially from the poor are trying their lot with boxing. There’s nothing wrong with it, but definitely something is not right when the youth tries to emulate the exception in boxing with little knowledge of the tragedies and failures in boxing. Of the many boxers that our country produced most of them, if not all of them, fared badly. With his business acumen and native intelligence, only MP made it to international superstardom and the million dollar club.

Really, I just wish a day  without news about Pacquaio. This has to end...somehow. His last fight against Marquez is not convincing. He should retire now.

Stumped, TV Shows

Stumped…

Maybe I should say something about TV shows.

AGB Nielsen People Ratings (November 4 to 8, 2011) – Now nearing its finale, “100 Days to Heaven” takes lead over “Amaya” in Mega Manila People Ratings.-Starnometer

As I am writing, I could hear the theme from “100 days to Heaven.” The TV drama was about a notorious lady who owns a toy factory. The lady died and when she met St. Peter, she was given 100 days to correct or to make amends to all the people she had wronged when she was still alive. 

 The series will end today, 11-11-11.

While we were having dinner, my wife and daughter were pretty excited about the ending. My wife was even a bit sad that the series was about to end. Even though I do not like watching Pinoy series because I am more of an X-files, Fringe, Smallville person, I was forced to be a passive audience. Hard to admit but I have become a fan of 100 Days to Heaven. Maybe it’s because the series reminded me of that old Michael Landon series Highway to Heaven, about an angel who needed to earn his wings by helping people.


Maybe its Coney Reyes’ acting, maybe it’s the little girl’s acting, maybe the TV network is transmitting subliminal suggestions…

Anyway, the story was trite and the theme song was a popular song from long ago that has become a standard for funeral, not that song was bad or anything. I guess if a song becomes a standard for funeral marches, that song has reached the pinnacle of its success.

The ending has a touch of the Revilla drama..."ipakukulong ba natin ang ating kapatid?"

Hooopps...as I was typing, 100 Days to Heaven did not end today. This was expected. Local networks had this habit of extracting the last, very last drop of advertising revenue so, I guess, the series would be extended for a week. Or they would change the title to 1000 Days to Heaven.

Iglot is also ending today.

Iglot - Description: Iglot (lit. Talking Scrotum or nagsasalitang betlog) is a Philippine television drama series created by GMA Network.

 I was not a fan of the series for the obvious reason: I did not like the creature. It was stiff, the feather (I mean the fur) too artificial, looked like rayon wool to me. The eyes looked like marbles. It didn't even looked like a stuffed toy. It moved awkwardly. 


This creature was not even the center of the story. The writing got so bad that the only thing that  kept the show afloat was Claudine Barretos' mediocre acting.

Lamarck, Paper Mache, Just Having Fun...

I was sitting and reflecting… letting my imagination run amok, looking at my pupils’ papier mache projects. I  was wondering where did my pupils get the inspiration to make papier maches of creatures that have no legs or arms…reptiles and nematodes like snakes and worms are legless, so, no wondering there. 


I was looking at the ovoid shaped-mega cephalic-limbless- benevolent looking-cute-but weird creatures that they have papier mached.

Mind you, I have nothing against these art works. They are great. I am proud of them. They are the product of my pupils’ efforts and imaginations. I didn’t give them  specific instruction on what to make or not to make except that they should not submit to me a papier mache of amoeba or germs. (Crumpled paper with some paint on it!)


Any creatures will do. So, I am happy that they did not create boring stuff like a detailed, lifelike paper mache of a flying grasshopper, crouching tiger, flying eagle, mating rabbits, etc. I gave them artistic freedom. So, they created what they wanted to do and not what I wanted to see. I respect the subjective in art.  


Anyway…I love these artworks because I see beauty. The real beauty in them: effort, creativity, humor and fun! (Form, symmetry, center of attention, balance etc...these word should not be discussed with children because these words are confining. A philosopher once said, "You cannot get substance from form."

I was  writing my lesson plan when a pupils came to submit this. At first, I was confused. What did I miss? I was tempted to say things like "is this a mutant yema" or "wow, this looks like Java the Hut with hepatitis C!"But the enthusiasm and the smile on her face was so contagious that I smiled and said, "very good!" I gave her good grade because she met my requirement: she had fun doing the project.

I ask what kind of animals or creatures are these? According to them, these creatures are from a computer game called Angry Birds. Being prone to computer game addiction, I stopped playing games. So, I was a bit at a lost about the new fad in online gaming. A couple of months back, I got so addicted  to Plants and Zombies that even  my bodily function was affected; I almost developed stones from not getting up to pee. So, I made a resolution to stop playing computer games…hmm, maybe, at least until the classes are over.

A good pillow...

Reflecting upon the papier maches...the name Lamarck popped in my head. Lamarck was known for his theory of heretibality of acquired characteristics. Before Charles Darwin's theory of evolution, natural selection, mutation etc. Lamarck proposed his theory that acquired characteristics can be passed to the offspring. Okay...look at the picture below:

Here's from the experts:

In Lamarck's view, we must imagine a situation in the past where the best food for browsing mammals was higher up in trees, the lower vegetation having been eaten by other animals. The ancestors of the giraffe—which we should imagine like antelopes or deer—needed to adapt their behavior to this changing environment. As Lamarck wrote, "variations in the environment induce changes in the needs, habits and modes of life of living beings ... these changes give rise to modifications or developments in their organs and the shape of their parts" (p. 179). So Lamarck imagined that over generations the habit of continually reaching for the higher browse produced in the giraffe's ancestors a lengthening of the legs and neck.


The giraffe with the short neck dies of hunger; and in the process, they eventually become extinct.  The giraffe with the long necks would naturally survive. Of course there are stages in between, their offspring maybe mixed some with long neck, some with short neck but according to selection, the short necked offspring would eventually die out because they could not adapt.

This one reminds of the pet alien creature from John Carpenter's earliest sci-f movie Dark Star.   Again, they enjoyed doing it...good grades from me.

The Lamarck view of evolution is that animals (or creatures) develops or modify their organs to adapt to their environment. So, if an organ is not used, these organs die off naturally. Like if an animal (or people) do not use their arms, the arms atrophies and die...maybe they will even fall off, as in, "Wow, me arms fell off. Guess, I am not using them that much!" 

What made this one special is its mass. When a pupil gave it to me, I almost lost  my balance. This was made from 100% recycled paper. No wire or bamboo stick skeleton, pure muscle, so to speak. I had fun...good grade from me.

So with the brains. "Aaccchooooo!" Look at that big snot that flew out of my nose! "Son, that's not a snot! That's you brain. Guess you are not using it that much anyway."

Of course, its true that organs that are rarely used are wasted away but according to Lamarck, these dying off, the wasting away of unused organs could be inherited. Goes both way, if we follow Lamarck, trumpet blowers should have developed large lungs, thick lips and enlarged testicles. According to Lamarck, these acquired characteristics could be passed off to the next generation.

At first glance, I almost shouted, "Bert! Is that you? What did they do to you? Ohh noo.. where's Ernie?!" I thought this was Bert's head. Again...what's important is we all had fun.

So,it is important to check what your ancestors line of work to better understand some of your features. Like, If you have fine delicate fingers, your ancestor could be a pianist. If you have thick lips and you walk like a duck, your ancestor could be a tuba player. Or, if you have an abnormally large big feet, your ancestor could be a spartan.

My co-teacher, Jayson Marquez, and I were discussing these two.  On the right is a cobra while on the left...hmmm... we came to an agreement, an amoebic poop. Artwork that makes me think and write...sort of... is way,way up there in my creativity scale. Most definitely, deserves an A from me. 

Anyway...where was I?  Lamarck....if Lamarck is right. These legless creature will...this is how we could look like: the future homo sapiens...the homo cyber potatoes. Why? More and more people are spending their time sitting down in front of the computer, game boy, PSP, etc...you do the math.