Bedwetting

I didn’t know when I stopped wetting on my bed, but all I can remember is that my piss was starting to smell like an adult’s piss when I stopped wetting on my bed.

In the Philippines chronic bed wetting is not a big deal. It is considered normal especially for active children. I read that in the US they consider chronic bedwetting as a clinical disorder but in my experiences and with my childhood friends experiences and how our parents think of it, bed wetting is considered part of growing up and it would be unthinkable for parents to have their children psychoanalyzed for a simple case of bed wetting.

I and my hyper-active childhood friends wet our beds almost daily. It’s normal to see our mothers sun drying our urine soaked and urine smelling beddings, talking with each other, shaking their heads, sometimes smiling sometimes frowning, surrendered to their fate—taking care of their incontinent children.

How did parents dealt with the problem?

It is common belief that bedwetting is caused by hyperactivity. I don’t have the information to say whether this is medically true or not, but experience tells me that there is some truth in this because the more I and my friends play hide and seek, gun fight and tag the greater the chances that we will wet our bed. With the belief that hyperactivity causes bedwetting, my parent and as well as most Filipino parents try to rein in their children-- the children are told to relax hours before they go to bed. Of course this is an exercise in futility.

Not drinking water before going to bed is another solution.

None of these things worked.

My father tried providing me with a pissing can. But most of the times, I was already soaking wet before waking up to piss in the pissing can.

My old room is on the second floor of our house. The room has a steel window that opens wide. One night, maybe because I’m already growing up, my bladder woke me up. Since I’m a little afraid of the dark, what I did was to open the steel window, pulled down my pants and pissed. Of course it was embarrassing, in the silence of the night, the piss falling on our corrugated tin roof, I mean, it was like it suddenly rained.

I was pissing in a half dream, half awake, somnambulist state when something cold brushed my…er…tweet tweet and a bat flew past my eyes.

After that incident, my bladder always woke me up whenever it is full, but I till wet my bed. The reason was...

I mean…I think psychoanalysis would have helped that time.

Erection

It is already election season in the Philippines. The election is slated in May this year, although there are prescribed period for campaigning and although there are penalties for violators of this provision, politicians have found ways, as usual and as usual, of circumnavigating the prescribed period for campaigning.

After New Year, the good and the only sane person in the Arroyo government Chairman Bayani Fernando of MMDA ordered the dismantling of “Christmas greetings” banners posted by national, local and barangay politicians. This is funny because most of these Christmas banners started appearing as early as July (or earlier) 2006. And if Chairman Fernando didn’t remove these eyesores, they would have stayed there till the next election three years from now. Campaign banners they were.

“Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year”

Congressman Pedro Tulyapis 1st District of Orangutan.

The Christmas banners are now replaced with these:

“Happy Fiesta to Barangay Ulalo” Greetings from your loving and hardworking

Governor Estanislao Bagonggahasa!

“Happy 2 millionth anniversary to the Church of Voltes 5” Greeting from

Sen. You know who she is!

Church people have started mobilizing conscience groups to try to dissuade people from asking favors from candidates. This is the kind of electioneering done here in the Philippines. Politicians walk around doling out money for whatever projects the people thought of, just to take advantage of the candidates’ vulnerability. Basketball leagues suddenly popped up, women’s organization, youth organization, etc. suddenly became organized, all with the single purpose of milking politicos of money that in the first place came from the people. Of course, the politicos are only willing actor in this stupid election play. Concerned churchmen sick with this trend has formed an advocacy group called “Ehem”. The group is telling people not to ask for favors and not to accept favors voluntarily given by candidates. The logic is simple: With voters not squeezing anything out of politicians, there should be no reason for them to steal from the public in case they won.

I hope these well meaning people succeed.

I was watching the news and as early as today there are already actors manifesting their intent to run in the election. Mayors, governors, senators, etc. all of them are banking on their popularity. I mean, why would actors run for government office? Let’s just pray that it’s not because the Filipino movie industry is not as lucrative as it was—or the business is already dead.

I hope religious leaders will not commit the same mistake some religious leader made—run in the election. And if they do hope to run, the first thing they must do is resign from their churches and act as an individual because as experience have shown, churches, especially evangelicals, know how to discern.

As the Japanese would say: “Firipino erections are exciting!”

I would say to the Japanese: “Japanese erections are boring!”

And I hear the Americans say: “Our erection is the best in the world. Ask Bill Clinton!”

Jesus is a profit

I was reading a tabloid while waiting for my haircut when a column written by a Catholic Priest caught my attention. In there was an anecdote from a theology teacher. The theology teacher asked his (or her) student to describe Jesus. One described Jesus as the Savior, the other as Love, etc.

There were many answers but there’s one that caught the teacher’s attention. In capitol letters, one student has written: Jesus is a P-R-O-F-I-T.
He knew the student, a businessman.

When asked by the teacher what the student meant when he had written that Christ is a P-R-O-F-I-T?
The student replied: “Profit like Elisha and Elijah. Profit pu sir, profit!”
“Aahhhhhh, prophet! Jesus is a prophet.”

Sleep Jolts

Once in a while, in my sleep, there are times when I would be jolted from my slumber, for no apparent reason, no dream or nightmare. I would be roused from the bed; and, I would look around me, look at my wife and daughter, look at myself and just try to place everything at their places, try to focus is what I mean. Then I would feel my wife, feel my daughter, feel myself, feel the bed and feel the wall of the room, in the dark, just try to feel solid things and try to find out if I’m awake--if everythings real.

I know this is strange, but sometimes this happens to me. The sensation is akin to déjà vu but the difference is not the feeling of recurrence but the feeling of detachment. It’s like déjà vu in the way that one tries to place the experience from prior experience; and there is the similarity, in trying to place the experience but not finding and placing the experience because the experience is that of detachment and not of recurrence. It’s like waking up in a different room--like being jolted awake in a different but familiar room. Of course when this happens, I can’t go back to sleep, and I lie awake through the night trying to think of what happened, the jolting.

In these experiences there were no fear or trembling, none. But what I experienced were sensations of disbelief belief, like what I felt after watching a movie that is so realistic that when I leave the cinema, I will not be surprised to meet the characters face to face on the street, but somewhere in your mind you know the movie’s fiction but there’s so much realism in there that you won’t be surprised if you experience it to be real. So, I try to check whether everything’s real.

Or, maybe, just maybe, these jolts are when different branches of realities diverge and there’s a convergence of experience between one branch and the other infinite number of branches of realities…there’s a point of contact at split-sub-atomic nano-second that makes experience detached and deja vu like…two veins of the multi-verse touching…in this universe…

Too much science fiction

Too much science fiction

Too much science fiction

Too much coffee.

But, I think I’m not the only one who experiences these jolts.

Jeproks

I bought a burned cd copy of Mike Hanopol and Heber Bartolome’s Banyuhay’s.

“Kalamansi sa Sugat”Banyuhay's classic album featured some of Heber most biting songs. Heber Bartolome’s Banyuhay is one of the proponents of Filipino Folk Rock music during the 70’s, 80’s and early 90’s. Heber’s Banyuhay’s music, Dylan influenced, mostly dealt with social issues, patriotism, nationalism and the environment. Perhaps their most recognized hit is the satirical “Tayo’y mga Pinoy” (We’re all Filipinos) which lambasted the Filipino’s colonial mentality and loss and lost of national identity. Then there’s “Nena” a ballad about a prostitute, “Almusal” (Breakfast) a country music inspired song about how Filipino’s deal with hunger, and that is to combine breakfast and lunch (forced brunch).

My favorite Banyuhay song is “Karaniwang Tao” (Simple Folk). The song is anthemic of the common Filipino’s poverty and the government’s (seemingly) unequal and special policy on foreign capitalism and globalism versus local workers and local small time investors. Most of Banyuhay’s songs are tinged with Marxist and Leninist and Maoist blah, blah, blah. Their songs are favorites in activists’ rallies and meetings (I should know, my neighbor is a labor leader.) But there are a lot of truths in their songs, and, once in a while, it’s good to listen to their kind of music—“Kalamansi sa Sugat” (Lemon Juice on Wounds).

Mike Hanopol's "Laki sa Layaw" is another thing. His music is Hendrixian. It mostly deals with inane things from drug trips to pseudo philosophical musings tinge with double entendre about drugs. His music is pure fun and guitar riffs but no depth.

Anyway, last time I’ve seen Hanopol he was being interviewed by 700 club Asia. The guy has finally grown up and shed his Jeproks philosophy, but, unfortunately, he still dresses like one.

“Laki sa layaw, Laki sa layaw Jeproks…”

“Laki sa layaw, Laki sa layaw Jeproks…”

“Laki sa layaw, Laki sa layaw Jeproks…”

Ang sagwa pagmatanda na!!!

asthma

My asthma woke from its annual hibernation and attacked me with a vengeance. I was bedridden for two days because of head aches, nasal congestions, fever, conjunctivitis, itchy ears, and all the other symptoms of respiratory allergies. This has been an annual event for me ever since I can remember. The symptoms usually appear at the end of the cool Christmas season and at the entrance of the hot, dusty summer season. We have no air-conditioning so I have no choice but to weather the attack.

For two days that I was absent from school, I read books and watched a movie.
I watched “To Kill a Mocking Bird” starring Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch and Mary Badham as Scout Finch. The movie is beautiful adaptation of Harper Lee’s novel.
I read Nietzsche’s “Genealogy of Morals”. For someone not exposed to this kind of literatures it’s a good read. (Filipino’s are not philosophical people. Our language is not suited for highly conceptual subject like philosophy and for people who used English as a second language reading philosophy is like reading…hieroglyphics.)

The Dawn Treader. I enjoyed the reading this C.S. Lewis’ classics. I finished it in one sitting. I am trying to read Lewis’ “That Hideous Strength” and up to now I can’t get past page 4.

I’m currently reading “Cradle” by Arthur C. Clarke and Gentry Lee.

Who am I?

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cells confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equally, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I really what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness,
tossing in expectations of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person to-day and to-morrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
and before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
fleeing from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions mock me.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!

--Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Just thinking out loud

“In the magnificent cathedral the Honorable and right Reverend Geheime-General-Oberhof-Pradikant, the elect favorite of the fashionable world, appears before an elect company and preaches, with emotion, upon the text which he himself elected: “God hath elected the base things of the world and the things that are despised”—and nobody laughs.

--Kierkegaard


One of the difficulties in biblical doctrinal study is the antithesis between predestination and election and freewill. Predestination and election is a fact that we can’t help but accept because of the very nature of God—Omniscient and omnipotent. Freewill is also a fact that we can’t help but accept because of the very nature of humanity—depravity and accountability. The conflict is well defined: how can humanity be accountable if everything’s predestined; how can God be God if he is not in control of everything etc.


I have seen many pastors during bible studies tackle the paradox and it’s not a pretty sight—either they get stumped for a week or they just try to avoid the conflicting doctrines.

The problem is logic, the “either or” method of harmonizing the doctrines.

We can learn a lot from the oriental non-logical (not illogical) way of thinking.

All those Zen stuffs…(Just thinking out loud!)

Students

In my school uniform, I was walking my seven year daughter to her school when she suddenly asked me what I want to be when I grow up. She had asked me this often enough, and I always told her that I’m already grown. But this time with both of us in our school uniforms and both on our way to school, her question made me think about lost opportunities.

What do I want to be when I grow up?

Hmmmm….

What do I want my daughter to want to be when she grows up?

It must be a strange sight to see father and daughter walking while holding hands, both in their school uniforms. The father carrying the daughter’s “Barbie back pack” while the daughter carrying the father’s binder notebook both on their way to school.

I don’t know what my wife thinks, but it must be strange trying to prepare school stuffs for both husband and daughter. It must be strange for my wife to accompany both husband and daughter on their educational trips. It must strange for my wife to entertain both her husband and her daughter’s classmates.

I mean…it must be strange for her to live with me—an old college student.

Unbelievable

Filipino boxing champion Manny Pacquiao did something outrageous today (Jan. 20). He went to the Commission on Election office--I don’t know how he hoped to accomplish this—“to bring back the people’s trust to the commission.” He went there with all the pomp, the shouting, the autograph signing, the blah, blah, blah, and, and, and is that supposed to bring the people’s trust back to one of the most corrupt and unreliable government agencies? Who does Manny Pacquaio think he is? Jesus Christ (sorry about that)? Mahatma Gandhi? Martin Luther King? Mother Theresa? Albert Einstein? The guy is a boxing champion; he is a respected boxer, a shrewd businessman even, but a moral force in the country? All those adulations and head punches may have caused some malfunction in his brain and gave him hallucinations and delusions and illusions of messianic grandeur. (One of my friends told me that most Filipino boxing champions are (mildly) crossed eyed, and he’s right. Must be brain damage due to punishment the head is exposed to or it could be the egoism and egotism.)

If Manny the Pacquaio went to his old, rundown and legendary old gym to donate some equipment and money, it’s understandable.

If Manny the Pacquaio went to an orphanage and donated money and his endorsement for donations, it’s admirable.

If Manny the Pacquiao went to the Comelec and punched the commissioners on the head to knock some sanity in them, that would be understandable and admirable.

But the Manny who after his hospitalization immediately went to the cockpit to watch his fighting cocks fight. Manny who lose thousands of dollars in games of blackjack, going to the Comelec to bring back the people’s trust to the despicable institution? Unbelievable. Why can’t he be like Efren “the Magician” Bata Reyes the humble Filipino billiard legend—toothless and low profile.

Pacquiao has all the right in the world to do what he did, but what he did shows the sad state of the nation…I don’t want to elaborate. I mean if knocking people down can give a person the moral power to revive trust to a despicable institution …unbelievable.

Our kind of heroes tells so much as to what kind of people we are becoming.

Flea

My friend John lent me an old VCD of the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ bassist Flea’s interview with River Phoenix titled “Flea: Adventures in Spontaneous”. It is supposed to be an instructional video on how to play bass the “Flea” way, but it’s obvious that Flea is not as fluent in English as he is in playing bass. His words are far, far off. He’s dishing out all these Hendrixian, 60’s flower power metaphysics about being “true” and “being in tune with the cosmic forces surrounding you” and all that stuff that obviously only a spaced out guy say. Well, it’s obvious that he’s spaced out because he’s always sniffing and scratching his nose as if there’s a living, feral booger inside his nostrils trying to claw its way out.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m an avid fan of The Red Hot, and for me Flea is the Jimi Hendrix of bass. Both Jimi and Flea have something in common, and that is the ability to play their instruments while doing something else, like jumping up and down like a pogo stick while rotating their heads while singing while sticking out their tongues and etc.

But the real common denominator of these two guys is their spontaneity. There are technically better and more sophisticated instrumentalist than they are. But what made them great player is their natural playing and unpredictability.

My friend also lent me an instructional video by Dream Theater’s bassist John Myung but after watching Flea do his improvisations on a four stringed bass, I found Myung with his six string bass and his theories artificial and boring. Myung is a great technical bass player but he’s not Flea—raw passion and twilight zone.