On the Spot

It's almost a year into my blogging foray. I reckon it's time for some assessment.

Last month, I received special mention in Señor Enrique's blog for having potential of sorts in this blog of mine. With the recognition coming from him, it means a lot to me (read further to know one of the reasons). This peculiar meme is supposed to originate here, wherein each blogger is tasked to highlight five blogs that stimulate the intellect. In this part of the blogging world where I lurk, it's an impossible task to limit the recognition to just five; thus, I would just go with Señor Enrique's criteria and name those bloggers that are still "small-time" for now but have great potential waiting to be unleashed. This is still a long list, though, so I would limit my choices among those in my links (as of this writing).

With the modified criteria, I suppose it's safe to say that Philippine Blog Awards 2007 finalist Nostalgia Manila, Photobloggies 2007 Best Southeast Asian Photoblog Awards finalist Sidney and Philippine Blog Awards 2007 Best Photoblog Señor Enrique are overqualified. Nevertheless, do visit them and experience the Philippines in the past and in the present through their words, images and videos.

Without further ado, behold my list, in no particular order, of Five Bloggers of Great Potential:

Untold Pinoy Stories -- Nick's not-so-blind items taken from the repressed or forgotten collective memories of Filipinos are told in a style that will blow you away.

utakGago -- When I first encountered Kevin in his previous blog (he changes URLs a lot), the huge following made him loom larger than life. Now a fresh grad from high school, he remains the opinionated fellow who can discuss anything and everything under the sun.

Kamurawayan (and Meljohn Art) -- Ever since my high school days, Meljohn has been the go-to guy when it comes to designing T-shirt graphics, among other artistic requirements. Now with two blogs of his own, this accomplished visual artist shares the Bicol experience to the rest of the world.

Gusot -- Jonell is a creative mind whose stories sway your emotions. His current blog holds but a fraction of his literary contribution in the Internet.

A Nagueño in the Blogosphere -- From hard-hitting commentaries to Bicol-related links to poignant family stories, Willy delivers straight from Naga City.

The above-listed are hereby appointed to spread the link love in their respective blogs.

Now I feel bad; most of my blog links are left out. And these links belong to personal friends! Actually I have long intended to write an entry about those listed in my links, and I guess this is the right time.

The one person who made me sign up for a Blogger account way back in 2002 is Toj. It was for membership to a now defunct group blog of math majors, the title of which, by the way, was where I got "Everybody Counts" from. Why defunct? Well, unlike her, we were yet to grasp the concept of blogging. She is the first blogger that I know of, and the one with an online clout while still in college. Such prominence has setbacks though, as her insightful posts on relationships get plagiarized often. Back in college, I also found Kerwin's blog. Ever since then he has been the pop culture observer. He is actually a quiet type, and his superior math and writing skills are very effective in encrypting his personal messages.

My other math contemporaries have since wised up to the ways of blogging somewhat. The first among my after-college discoveries is Krislan's blog containing thoughts (angsty and otherwise) of a third-world petit bourgeois. These are thoughts that I could relate to (enough that I could expose his hidden agendas), but would hesitate to voice out and consider them taboo or brash or unpopular. Unfortunately, the need to preserve the means of keeping body and soul together prevailed, forcing Kris to hide his blog from potential employers using the new Blogger privacy feature. I've discovered also in quick succession (because they're networked) the blogs of my math friends Maymay, Joy, Tago, and Sam, among others. Theirs are personal blogs for now, but the few posts they have hint at their incisive thinking (guess who got Manolo Quezon's attention).

One final factor that pushed me into blogging was another blog discovery from another group of friends. There was once a bad day at work that had me reeling from multiple problems. But today I no longer remember the details of those unfortunate events; instead, what I remember was that due to some sense of longing or an urge to seek refuge, I searched for blogs pertaining to my college org, DS, and found Ailen's LJ. One particular entry, amongst funny snippets of life and deep personal reflections, led me to the comforting conclusion that the "magic" that made DS membership worthwhile is still there among its current members. In light of this happy thought, I left the office with a smile.

Ah, behold the power of blogs to uplift! I guess an organization that proclaims "we take care of you" will attract membership from the right kind of people most of the time. And so, even with their varied topics, there is this common streak of idealistic melodrama and lighthearted fun among the blogs of Ces, Maan, Rita, Pia, Arlene and mine. An additional note on Maan's blog: rather than brushing it off as one of those blogs with nothing but lyrics, consider first that we share the same taste in music, and her personal sharing provides dramatic context to the songs.

Finally we have the awesome blogs--in Tagalog "astig", in Bicol "ma-orag." Kate is a friend from back in high school. She rarely posts, but if she does it's heartfelt and profound. Marlon a.k.a. Mr. Pencil is a recent discovery. Following the footsteps of Jonell, it's unbelievable how he deftly uses the metaphor of the pencil in all his posts so far.

There you have it. With them, my blogging experience is made more worthwhile, so from this one-year Highway Drifter, a big thank you.

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Fantasia (Part 5)

(Part 1 2 3 4)

It was sunny and windy all over EveAlone on the day of the trip to the practice tournament. The vessel transporting Daniel and his teammates got a boost from the strong winds. Rather than let thoughts of Helen distract him, he recalled the electrifying competition he just had recently, one of the reasons he needed this practice tournament.

It was a month after the War Games that Daniel and Romulus had their turn to face two beautiful ladies of the Greyhounds in the second round of the Challenge of the Intellects. In this round, the Knights led in the earlier Speed Level, but that lead was diminished by the Greyhounds in the Written Level. In particular, Daniel was suddenly struggling to find the answers. Two more questions remain with the Greyhounds leading by one.

The second to the last question was a surprisingly easy one about the Codix. Everyone answered it, but Daniel pointed out one small detail missing in the Greyhounds' formula. The Knights tied the score.

The last question was asking the name of an enchanted telescope recently built that would peer through the stars for a light human eyes were unable to see.

"It's Bubbles." Romulus suggested the name of a similar but more famous telescope.

"No, the Bubbles sees regular light; besides, it has been in use for a long time now, not newly built." Daniel was wringing his brains, "dammit! I have seen the image of that thing in the news scroll; I just can't place its name!"

As expected, everyone answered Bubbles, but the correct answer was Cassandra. "Argh! So that's why it was at the tip of my tongue!" This greatly frustrated Daniel because Cassandra was also the name of the girl Mervin had fallen in love two years earlier. She was from the neighbor of the Pillars, the Sepulchre of Isis, an academy exclusive for girls. It was another interscholastic visit, and that time she was the girl everyone was smitten with. Daniel wasn't similarly attracted to her pointed nose, fair complexion and cheerful smile, but curiously, it was him, rather than Mervin, that Cassandra would recognize for the following years until he leaves for apprenticeship in Manille.

In the subsequent Clincher level, Romulus correctly answered the first question, which was about Literature. The second question, which was about Magic, disoriented Daniel. The Greyhounds got the answer. The third question about a History quote was similarly disorienting and was punctuated by a tense silence as the contestants thought it out. Romulus showed his mastery of History when he saw through the question, winning the round for the Knights and avenging their defeat at the War Games.

Rather than dwell on the details of his embarrassing performance, Daniel decided to join his teammates in their silly games and conversations: time to let others help him escape from his nagging thoughts.

Meanwhile, back in the Pillars, in its exhibition hall, Dominic was instructing the Acolyte trainees in assembling their guild exhibition for the contest tomorrow. Portraits of the acolytes providing assistance in religious rituals adorned their area. Still to be arranged were samples of religious artifacts used in those rituals. However, Dominic was somehow unsatisfied with their exhibit. An overly religious display, admittedly, could be quite a bore.

Dominic signaled a break from their work. He looked around the rest of the exhibits in the hall. One that easily stood out was the exhibit of A Merry Land. This year could be the literary scroll's big break, snatching victory away from the perennial winners Guild of Magic and Guild of Medics whose tools and artifacts never failed to amaze. This year, A Merry Land went beyond providing a reading lounge for their scrolls. Their area had been transformed into an enchanted forest, complete with statues and images of the creatures that graced the stories in the scrolls. It was a brilliant idea, and Dominic knew why: two of the editors, Mervin and Daniel, became kindled minds lately, inspired by the news about Helen. It was Daniel who came up with the concept of making the stories come alive, but with him being busy preparing for the practice tournament, it was Mervin who zealously executed the plan to perfection.

Dominic picked up one of the A Merry Land scrolls featured in the exhibit, the one containing a poem he wrote. He looked for that poem, started reading, and winced at his old poetic style--better not let the guests read this particular issue--and he buried the scroll beneath the pile. He couldn't believe his old style was that atrocious. What made it more pathetic was the seriousness he tried to convey. It would have been better if he was merely joking, like that poem of Daniel to Mervin.

That memory elicited a smile for Dominic. In another interscholastic visit, the one after Mervin had given up the hope of winning Cassandra's affections, he was again attracted to another guest from the Sepulchre. Her name was Gwyneth, and with long black hair, chubby cheeks and bubbly black eyes, she was cute as cute could be. Mervin intimated about the girl to his uncle, but he was told that she just might be his cousin. This amused Daniel to no end that he was inspired to write a poem entitled "Who is She in Your Life?"

Dominic made his way back to the exhibit area of the Acolytes. The break was over, they better finish their work before the sun completely sets and the Pillars closes for the day.

Across the campus, the officership training drill for that day was about to be concluded. Mervin would finally deliver his instructions, which everyone had been awaiting all throughout the drill: "Alright boys, we all know that tomorrow, visitors from different academic institutions will be arriving to our venerable academy. As the battalion's liaison for the organizers of this event, I will hereby take charge in mobilizing you trainees as part of the welcoming group." Mervin noted with satisfaction how the troops kept silent and disciplined. "You will, in exchange for the wonderful privilege of being the first to see our guests, escort our beloved guests to their respective rooms and carry their luggage. Hardly a problem, am I right?"

"Sir, yes sir!" It was the loudest response from the trainees for the entire afternoon.

"For tomorrow, I would like to see you in formation by the entrance gate at 0800 hours sharp. Wear your spiffiest casual-type uniform, and show them why each of you deserve to be called an officer and a gentleman."

"Sir, yes sir!"

The commander could not help but add, "and take special care of Helen."

"Commander, there should be no special treatment." Mervin quickly replied. A blush could still be noticed through his face that was darkened by days of marching under the blazing sun.

"Oh don't be so bashful, Mervin, we understand. Besides, I've never seen a luckier person than you, know that? For the next few days, your friend Daniel's stuck in a tournament at the Citadel of Aqueaon while Helen's gonna be guestin' here. And you, lucky you, will be welcoming her with a platoon under your command." Turning to the formation, the commander barked, "Troops dismissed!"

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Pilgrims Digress

Holy Thursday

We start our journey from the Naga Metropolitan Cathedral. It is six in the evening. Others have gone out ahead of us, but it is alright: time does not matter; getting there is what matters. We hope you are wearing your best walking shoes, for we will be spending the entire evening walking. Walking barefoot, though, will make you pious in the eyes of many. It will be helpful if you bring along water, snacks and even your dinner, unless you want to start fasting six hours in advance.

The saying that how ever long a procession is, it returns to its starting point does not apply here. First of all, this is not a procession where people bear a deified ikon around the town; although an air of solemnity still surround throngs of people walking in prayerful cadence. Indeed, we shall end up in another church in another municipality in another district.

We begin with a proud burst of energy: we noisily converse, sing, and laugh until the next municipality.

We then somber down and acquire the prevailing mood of our fellow pilgrims. It is rightly so, we think, for this is the Holy Week and Dios Jesucristo is about to die. The merriment of the Last Supper we had earlier gives way to the agonizing prayer at Gethsemane. Our garden is the National Highway and the surrounding farmlands, and our agony is the early onset of weariness. Like the three disciples, some would stop to rest, but most would start to pray. The latter we do an automated thumbing of rosary beads as we mumble away each Hail Mary in a mechanized yet eerily recognizable manner.

We must have walked more than five kilometers now. Our feet might be feeling sore but we trudge on; we feel our sins getting left behind with every step we took. More so if we do not have shoes and socks to impede their transmission from our body to the earth where they originated and where they shall end--burnt to a crisp in a never-ending infierno. It does not matter that we have not asked forgiveness from our neighbor, returned the things we have stolen, or repaired the things we have damaged. God has forgiven us and that is important.

We may buy water, food, and other things we suddenly feel needed from stores that have mysteriously sprouted along the highway. The Pinoy entrepreneur is there where the business is good, as what is done in fiestas and other religious events: inserting Money and Materialism among the other gods being worshipped, even creating other gods like Wine, Gambling and Vanity among others. We might manage, though, to be spared from offering to the Money God when some altruistic mayor or congressman hoping to be re-elected comes up with action centers or task forces providing free cold drinks, restrooms and first aid.

While we are in the middle of our journey, we may as well go sight-seeing. All too often, we shall see drinkers raising their glasses in praise of the Wine God as they indulge in an extended Last Supper--a last supper indeed for some, whose souls will be displaced from their bodies by the spirits of the alcohol. Some pay homage to the God of Gambling, where it is not only Christ’s cloth that is at stake. Others sing the pilgrims on, while others simply do not care as they sit mesmerized by the God of Entertainment residing in the TV.

We finally enter Calabanga, the destination municipality, and our hearts are gladdened. The atmosphere is festive, similar to the finish line in a marathon race. Others do treat this as a race, speeding up and overtaking lots of exhausted pilgrims. Tough walkers that they are, it is because they know what lies ahead: a kilometer long line of pilgrims desiring to have an audience with the King of kings. To stop as we fall in line is a welcome rest for our weary legs. Then we wait for more than an hour until we can enter an antiquated kapilya.

Finally, we see Him. There He lays--a lifeless wooden body dressed up in fine burial clothes, yet capable of giving blessings and grace. We view Him like that of our departed loved ones. We may pray, weep, then we kiss Him goodbye.

Our bodies are weakened but we are cleansed from sin. We are happy to see Him.

Good Friday

We now go to a friend’s residence nearby. He is expecting us as well as other visitors. He has prepared food and refreshments for all. Some of us may rest our tired bodies on his sofa and fall asleep. Others may keep vigil and tell stories to keep each other awake.

It is past midnight now, but Calabanga is still wide awake, still expecting more pilgrims. A midnight procession is taking place with rowdy boys in center stage. Jeepneys are taking some pilgrims back home. Earlier, they also took into the municipality some pilgrims who consider the sin-cleansing walk unnecessary.

Those who slept wake up to a fine sunny morning while those who kept vigil struggle with their last remaining strength to keep awake. We initially hesitate in accepting our host’s invitation for breakfast before we eagerly partake everything he offered.

To push the boundaries of holiness, some of us will choose to walk their way back home while most would ride the jeepney, discovering that, upon the influence of the Money God who seems to be powerful as Christ dies, the fares are higher than usual.

Along the way home, we see Him again. This time he is alive and in flesh and blood. We see him carrying His cross trudging to an unknown Calvary. He wears a crown of thorns that draw blood from his head. His hair is disheveled, partly hiding a bloodied face filled with sorrow and torment, although he tries futilely not to show these emotions. His white blood-stained robe is torn, exposing a whipped back. Skin has been peeled off His elbows and knees indicating that the sturdy cross has imposed its weight upon Him more than three times now.

Behind Him are ten men and two women dressed in similar fashion brandishing spiked whips. But they are not the Roman soldiers forcing Him to move on (it is the horrible sins committed that is whipping Him forward). They too are trying to hide their agony as they whip themselves at their backs in a synchronized ritual.

The scene of self-inflicted, self-righteous suffering is a sight to behold. But there is neither Roman-Jewish crowd jeering nor women wailing for Him. Some do stare dumbfounded, some wince in sympathy, while most go on with their business. Could this apathy be more painful than the jeers, their suffering in reparation not acknowledged?

One Caucasian excitedly operates his camcorder. When he returns home, he will sell his video footage to some reality program for the whole world to gawk at it all and come and see for themselves. Thus, next year, to the delight of Dick Gordon, we shall accommodate in our group excited Westerners eager to have their innocent minds full of the ideals of human rights blemished by the sight of holy gore, WOW Philippines!

(Note: This was first written in November 2003, based on the pilgrimage to Amang Inulid, the image of the dead Christ, in Calabanga, Camarines Sur. This tradition, although long-running, is not officially sanctioned by the Archdiocese of Caceres.)

Picture Credits:
Naga Metropolitan Cathedral from www.stvictor.org
Cristo and flaggelants from Sidney

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Fantasia (Part 4)

I did not find screenshots from Ragnarok that would convey the action, so I got screenshots from the recent movie 300 instead. Images available from IMDB. Note that these images are merely for establishing the mood and do not depict the actual events in the story.

(Part 1 2 3)

On the day that Daniel left for the practice tournament, Mervin was in the fields of the Pillars observing the formation of trainees for officership. He was waiting for his turn to instruct the troops on a special matter. In the meantime, his thoughts wandered to events that happened more than a month ago...

After finishing the Officership Training Course, Mervin would go on to be the Intelligence Officer of the Knight battalion. They were to compete in the annual War Games of EveAlone. For decades, this was the contest that the Pillars had dominated. The Knights would time and again display to the entire land their superior discipline, arms and tactics, and vanquish any other group that came in their way. But recently, other battalions have stepped up training and have slowly but surely surpassed and surprised the Knights whose morale had been slowly decreasing. Instead, they've been grumbling that warfare had long been gone, that it was the time of Magic, and the Knights have been more successful in that kind of competition anyway: what was the use of competing in mock military battles now?

Ironically, Daniel the champion for Magic, although physically incapable of participating, had been supportive of the martial endeavor. He believed that it would be infinitely better that the Knights show supremacy in all aspects: a sound mind in a sound body. Thus he, together with Dominic, was there at the battlefield on the day of the War Games. They were to document the event for the annual chronicles Tagumpay.

The young troops stood silently in their staging area. Their armor and their shields were heavy but they never moved an inch. Mercifully, since this was only a mock battle, they only carried wooden swords and blunt spears rather than the real ones with heavy steel blades. Mervin was at the lead formation, together with the Commander, while Daniel and Dominic kept their distance from the unmoving mass of armor. This statuesque display was meant to impress upon everyone their discipline, and the stoic mien was meant to unsettle their opponents. But, having witnessed their training, the two chroniclers knew better. The noontime sun was slowly taking its toll on the troops, and one of them silently buckled down. Medics helped the unfortunate one back up, and in a few minutes he was again standing still in the formation.

For Mervin, the veteran of the War Games, standing still was its most difficult part. The boredom could be unnerving, but he must not slide into daydreaming lest he might miss a command. Thus, when the commander finally turned to bark an order, he was aware. It was time. They would now march into a free-for-all battle. Mervin listened to the stomping of their boots and can only sigh. These should thud like there was only one giant Knight marching on the field, but what he heard was like that of a giant caterpillar instead.

A battalion from an obscure academy in a rural town of EveAlone engaged the Knights. Suicidal fools, Mervin thought, but fighting them could still be a good warm-up. "Close formation! Raise shields!" He heard the Commander's orders and couldn't help but sneer. "We'll fight with shields ... and only shields." The troops laughed in agreement. They would push the opponent out of the field, which by the rules would constitute sure defeat.

On another battalion, they used spears only. The blunt spears and wooden swords were laced with red dye to indicate a successful hit. Anyone who was marked but would still stand up and fight would invite disqualification for his or her entire battalion.

At last the battalion of Greyhounds, an up-and-coming rival, decided to engage the Knights. In earlier War Games, the Knights would merely belittle the challenge, but this time, their proud disposition was immediately replaced with worry, most especially the officers who know the real score. They leveled their spears to prepare to charge in close formation. But the two lead platoons of the Greyhounds veered to the left and to the right respectively. Mervin cussed under his teeth at this unknown maneuver. Was his espionage and counterintelligence effort not good enough?

"Bravo Company," the Commander barked to the rear, "form platoons, engage flanks! Alpha Company, follow me!" The two platoons of the Bravo Company found action in no time. Meanwhile, the officers and the Alpha Company made a spear charge to the opponent's battalion at the center, but the latter merely marched backwards in loose formation.

"Commander," Mervin shouted, "I think they intend to flank us too!"

From outside the field, the two chroniclers were also worried. "It seems the Greyhounds are finally fighting using their strengths," Daniel pointed out to Dominic. "Before, they keep on engaging the Knights using force against force, but with superior armor and the rough training, the Knights would have the upper hand of course. Now, the Greyhounds fight with speed and mobility while armor would slow the Knights down. The present inadequate and unmotivated training also helps in further slowing down how the Knights shift formation, enabling the Greyhounds to find kinks in their defenses."

"You really know all these stuff, don't you? Why didn't you tell it to Mervin?" Dominic replied in jest.

"Mervin and the other officers have the same vague idea," Daniel sighed, "it's just that the guys under them don't really take these things seriously."

Alpha Company retreated to rejoin the two platoons of Bravo, one of which was surrounded and taking in losses. The Commander issued a series of orders for a formation that will make the platoons defend from the enemy on four sides.

"Well I have to give credit to our guys," Daniel pointed out, "look, there is a part that is receiving attack, but the orders are to move, so they follow the command and do not fight back. Maybe they can still be cited for discipline in the awards."

"Hope so, Daniel." Dominic knew they could only hope. "But the position they are making has an obvious weakness. All the Greyhounds have to do is pour all that they have on one side so that they can go to the center, and slay the troops whose backs are turned."

Mervin thought so too, especially when the piddling force facing them did not dare to attack his side, the officers' side. It was the opposite side being attacked. Mervin knew it was the weakest side. He turned to the Commander.

"Sir, permission to take command of the center, as a contingency."

The commander hesitated, but had to concur. It was just in time: the Greyhounds had found a break and four of them came rushing to the center. Mervin threw his spear to the Greyhounds still massed outside; it was of no use for close-quarter combat. It expectedly missed since the troops simply stepped away. The veteran Mervin was good in sword fighting, and he downed the four intruders in no time. Unfortunately, the beleaguered side collapsed under the relentless attack. Mervin and the few troops at the center faced the spears of an entire Greyhound company.

Daniel was surprised at Dominic's insight. "It's happening almost exactly as you told. Gee, Dominic, never knew a holy acolyte also know the way of violence."

"Well, it's all thanks to you, my friends."

"Oh, don't look at me; I'm just an armchair general."

Their laughter was short. The fact was the Knights were slowly being withered down in strength, speared and hacked, until the last man fell.

"Drop, you insolent fools!" The Commander's orders shifted Mervin's attention back to the fields of the Pillars. The first thought that came to him was that the Commander has caught him daydreaming, for after the War Games were over, he had allowed himself to relax. But before he could perform the command, he saw the trainees carrying out the punishment. They must've done another stupid misdemeanor, he thought. His joyous instructions would have to wait.

Then he thought of her.

Helen was back in his life. What if she came earlier? Could he had fought more fiercely if he knew she was there? Mervin was amused with his wishful thinking. No matter, he assured himself as the instructions he bore came to mind. Tomorrow would be a great day anyway.

(To be continued)

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