remembering sun tzu

somebody not-so-big once told me,

“you know what son, it’s not about what you know.

today, it’s all about who you know. remember that.”

i was insulted. i felt that my education was insulted by someone who thinks that her age gave her enough wisdom to know how the society works. i felt belittled by someone who breathes the conceited air of her high social status. she almost smashed the hopes and the foundations of a spirit that still believes in the power of reason and the credibility of the truth.

today i realized that she was right in some ways.

today, as i travel to work and see the products of deceit and greed around me, i realized that it is indeed about who you know that counts.

during these dire times where the language of money is more sacred than that of the breaths of truth from the hearts of men, you really have to know these people:

yourself and your enemy.

your two scents worth

choosing a truth from the truths that you see can be hard and confusing as choosing a scent that you think will suit you best.

first you spray the scent to your left wrist, then another one to your right. you compare the two. your olfactory sense is excited by both perfumes. you then decide to try another another one. then you try and spray other options; could have been better than the first ones. then off you go to try some more, you don’t stop until you feel confusion foaming inside your head. every kind seems to smell the same as the other. suddenly, you realize that you cannot rely on your numb sense of smell so you resort to sight. you narrow down things according to the bottle’s appeal. you categorize the perfume according to the color of the liquid. after several minutes of sorting you give up and resort to reason. you start to rationalize which scent suits you based on the salesperson’s description of each product. you evaluate the scents based on the contents and the ingredients used in production. you feel your mind forcing you to pick based on its practical economic value. then you move around the counters of the store to take another look at the cavalcade of bottles and the myriad of scents before you. you still cannot decide which one best suits you. you try to smell your wrists, your arms, your shoulders, but you see the futility of the act. finally, you pressured yourself and relied on your gut feeling. you try to feel although there is actually no emotional connection between you and the bottles of perfume. you know you will pick the one that could give your heart a sudden jolt. your mind tells you to not pick in random, but your feelings tell you to listen to your heart. carefully, you run your fingers through each bottle as if it’s a woman’s body, then carefully, you breathe in. you run your fingers once again through the bottles, then you pick the bottle of eternity for summer. you carefully paint a smile to your face. you feel triumphant. for 20 minutes you were able to pass one of the hardest ordeals of your life. you are able to choose.

but you know deep inside you that you can never be certain if you choose the right scent until you use it everyday until the last drop.

UP@100: Capturing 100 UP Moments

i got this announcement from the menthol guy who is also one of the organizers of this activity.
so this is an invitation for everyone in up and who has been a part of the university over the years.




read below:

(the following is repost from other bloggers)

Along with a group of UP bloggers, we have come up with a special project for the UP Centennial Month this coming June. It’s called “UP@100: Capturing 100 UP Moments“ -

It is a Music Video Project which will compile 100 photos and videos from participants consisting UP alumni and students. It aims to capture 100 unique UP moments from 100 different points of view in the past 100 years of the University’s existence.We are inviting YOU to join us in this endeavor.Mechanics:

How to submit an entry

I. Who can participate:

1. Any University of the Philippines alumni.
2. Any University of the Philippines student.

II. How to submit your photo or video:

1. A participant can submit at most two pictures of himself/herself (alone or otherwise) taken in UP or during a UP event OR a 15-sec video of the participant taken in UP or during a UP event.
2. Each entry should have the the following information:
* Name
* Student Number
* Degree and Course
* Two to five words describing the event (include the year the photo/video was taken)
* If it’s a group photo, please indicate your position in the picture.

3. Entries could be submitted by doing at least one of the following:
* Sending them with file (photo/video) attachments to up100[at]googlegroups[dot]com or utakgago[at]yahoo[dot]com.

* Posting the photos on their blogs and leaving the URL as a comment on this official UP@100 post.
* Uploading the video on a file sharing site and leaving the download link as a comment on this official UP@100 post.

4. Only ONE of the entries submitted per participant will be selected.

5. The deadline for submissions is on June 19, 2008. A day after the UP Centennial Anniversary (so that photos from the centennial celebration could be included).

6. The launch of the video will be on June 26, 2008 on all the organizers’ blogs.

7. A microsite will be created for the project where all (part of the 100 or not) the submitted photos & videos will be posted in sync with the video launch.

Here are more UP@100 coordinators: Coy, Juned, Benj, Fritz, Ederic, Kevin, Karla and AJ.

We are very excited in this project and I hope many of you can join! Looking forward to your great UP moments! :)


DISCLAIMER: The UP@100 Project is in no way related or connected to the official Centennial Activities of the University of the Philippines. This is a volunteer effort and project by several UP students and alumni.

rem

only minutes after i closed my eyes to sleep i immediately feel the numbing stares of the pairs of eyes before me. the piercing, blinding bulbs colored in green, blue and brown belonged to girls that wear -tabula rasa on their faces masked with thick layers of white make-up. most of the time i can only notice movement from their eyes, scanning me as if their eyes were equipped with infrared and laser technology that can strip my soul from my body.

the girls are clad in minimal and tight clothing similar to the girls of the cabaret. i imagine one of them as scarlett johannson mainly because of her blonde hair, but other than that, she looks the same as the two. all of them pose like mannequins from an art museum. bodies contorted in such fashion that they appear more creepy than artistic. the girls look like cross breeds between the geisha and the harajuku girl.

each of their heads is slightly bent in a unique angle that made each of them look like they are looking at a particular place of my body. as i wonder at the mystery of their sudden presence in front of me, i realize that my eyes are the only parts of my body that can move. my eyes are the only parts that can establish contact with them over the thin layer of fiberglass that separates me from them.

at one second i thought i saw a glimpse of despair from the pair of green eyes that would always try to evade mine whenever i try to connect. the blue eyes are the same as the green one, evasive from my sight, but piercing to the body. the brown eyes, on the other hand, chase my eyes like a tail to the body of a mouse. it will never stop until it hooks up with mine, and when it does, it sends a bright glare that makes me see myself, numb, immobile, eyes fixed on the glass, with right arm about to reach forward, mouth half open.

when i blink my eyes to recover from the glare, i see myself back in the red bus, sitting near the window, and about to get off the next stop.

bare

and he went outside, all in flesh having only panic at the disco’s i write sins not tragedies playing on his reverie.
he walked a block until he encountered a group of girls wearing the checkered skirts from william college. they screamed in shock after seeing him. still oblivious of his nakedness, he ignored them, touched his nose and felt the scar tissues caused by the clothesline he placed there days ago in an attempt to have an improvised nose lift.

he continued towards the jeep stop on the next corner. as he passed by the judging eyes of the people around, he suddenly realized that he was enjoying the attention.
in addition, the tickling sensation of the wind blowing every inch of hair in his body together with the pinching rays of the sun on his skin slightly moistened with sweat aroused his senses.

the queue was long when he arrived. as impatience slowly crawled into him, he tried to reach for his pocket for some coins, but he felt the skin of his pelvis. it was only then that it occurred to him that he left his money at home.

he has spent 10 minutes on the line, definitely there’s no turning back for him. despite his phallus hanging flaccidly in between his legs, he managed to find a seat between a man clothed in worry and a lady wearing desperation.

the lady kept shooting him glances as sharp as a newly sharpened kitchen knife.
drops of sweat traveled from his forehead down to his neck, to the hills of his chest down to the curves of his belly, and seeped deeper into the hidden valleys of his crotch.
the judging gaze of the people inside the jeep pressured him to think of a way to produce coins for his fare.

as he tried to evade the stare of the lady wearing layers and layers of desperation, his eyes connected with the man on his far right. the deep set eyes of the man were strong enough to keep him from breaking the connection.
finally, the man spoke up and handed over his fare to him. before he could hand it over to the driver, the man immediately said, “manong, dalawa ho,” which instantly surprised him.
the man had no other companion. after the man clothed in worry has left, the man armed with a piercing look inched his way near him so that his pelvic bones and the jeans of the man could establish contact.

he kept his mind busy. he thought of his sister who kept on sorting vegetables from all the non-vegetables during meals, his father who kept on smoking each time an anonymous girl would call their house, his mother who would do nothing but chop onions each time she would caught his father with another woman.

he thought of those things to help himself ignore the friction of the jeans to his skin. as he tried to rummage more thoughts to fill his head, he felt a moist whisper on his ear. the man told him of his nakedness and offered a towel to cover his skin. he refused to accept the offer and was about to hit the man on his face when the man handed him 500 pesos for his haircut. he grabbed the money, stopped the jeep and went out to find the nearest barbershop.

after walking a few blocks, he found his favorite barbershop. as he entered the shop, he realized that the man who handed him money was his father’s friend. at first he wondered about the purpose and motive of the man, but dropped the thought immediately.
all he wanted was a haircut. he missed the sensation of the razor cutting through his head. its buzzing sound, its slight prick on the scalp, its oil leaks, he loved them all as much as he enjoyed the attention that he got the moment he entered the shop. he knew that people around were trying their best to pretend and hide their shock but it was evident on their breathing and the spark on their eyes.
yes, he was keen on sensing the messages of the eyes. it is through the eyes of others that he found connection; it is through the eyes that he first saw his father cheating his mother;
it was through the eyes that he saw his sister’s disgust over green leafy vegetables; it was through the eyes that he saw his mother’s loneliness.
shut lips and repressed breathings aren’t enough to hide people’s emotions from him.
yes, he was keen.

he looked for his favorite barber but the barber was absent that day. he combed his red-dyed hair with his fingers and got hold of a scissor nearby. people in the barbershop knew he didn’t want his hair cut by anyone except his favorite barber. he would rather do the cutting himself.
he probed around the shop for a razor, but none was available. so he started to reach down on his armpit hair and cut them with the scissor that he picked up on the counter.

he then turned his attention on his pubic hair; carefully cutting them on the roots, trying to imitate the razor’s cut, but it was far from perfect. as he did the cutting, he kept on thinking why people around him still wear clothes. foolish people, he thought. “the weather’s not even that cold. rain has not poured in months, yet, the fashion fad has changed radically.” last month, people in his neighborhood started to wear hats after 10 years.

the chilled air from the northern hemisphere has started to blanket the city but it paid no appeal to his keen senses. he firmly believed that his family never paid attention to the fad not until he was about to cut the last strand of pubic hair. before the blade of the scissor could have slashed the hair strand, his eyeballs were suddenly drawn to the glass window of the shop where he saw his mother, his sister and his father holding hands and carrying bags of groceries and clothes. what fixed his eyes on them was not the fact that they all wore smiles of contentment, but the unfortunate fact that they wore clothes like every other person in the community.

serbis boils buzz at cannes

there were a number of not so pleasant reviews about the filipino film serbis at this year’s cannes film festival.

the film was even considered as this year’s cannes brown bunny, criticizing its highly graphic sexual and explicit scenes.

but whatever the reasons maybe, serbis has caused enough buzz in the worldwide movie community. maybe it was intended to defamiliarize the audience. maybe it was the shock value of the film. maybe this bad publicity can turn into something good. maybe. who knows?

here are some of the reviews about the film:

from cinematical.com

from philippine daily inquirer

from a blogger

like dogs

fate smells the innermost fears that haunt inside you.
only those who can walk into the streets without fear,
or those those who can triumphantly control their breaths of fear
and pretend to walk as if they live without fear
can survive the fatal blows and bites of the sharp fangs of fate.

chinese mummy

seeing all terra cotta warriors in action, jet-li, michelle yeoh and the previous mummy main cast (except for rachel weisz), plus colorful aura blasts, sand fights, huge explosions,running, flying, and the cg dragon makes me want to see this movie in the big screen.





i hope this the mummy movie can top the first two.

into the wild

there are days when i want to be christopher johnson mccandless aka alexander supertramp, pack my bag to the wilderness, drive for weeks where nobody knows my name, burn all my money, read books on top of a mountain, ride the rapids of the river, freeload on a cargo train, cross borders of countries without any identification, camp in the desert, and go to alaska, to timbuktu, or somewhere remote to experience nature, to enjoy the simple joys that the earth and life have to offer.

supertramp travelled places to escape the walls of the laws, the cages of social norms, and the shackles of the binding ideologies of the society. his journey into the wild taught him that the joy of life does not principally comes from human relationships and that sometimes, it pays to enjoy the company of nature, the air, the water, the land, the plants and the animals together with your thoughts.

sean penn’s movie stirred some of my inner urges to break free from the world, to live as i want, to stay away from order and to do whatever that will make me happy. but then i realized that i don’t need to go to alaska or timbuktu, or somewhere remote to realize that happiness only becomes real when it is shared. my journey to various social, emotional and spiritual wilderness taught me the necessary skills to survive. i should always have a map handy, i should know the weather, i should be aware of my sorroundings, i should know the art of food hunting, and i should know how to be happy and how to share my happiness with people.

each waking day is like waking up into the wild where you expect to encounter wild animals, random acquaintances, and other creatures breaking free from the confines of their own walls. each day, i try to enjoy the simple joys of the earth and the offers of life by carrying love and sharing it to any person and to anything that i wanted to share it with.

two years he walks the earth. no phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. ultimate freedom. an extremist. an aesthetic voyager whose home is the road. escaped from atlanta. thou shalt not return, 'cause "the west is the best." and now after two rambling years comes the final and greatest adventure. the climactic battle to kill the false being within and victoriously conclude the spiritual pilgrimage. ten days and nights of freight trains and hitchhiking bring him to the great white north. no longer to be poisoned by civilization he flees, and walks alone upon the land to become lost in the wild. - alexander supertramp may 1992

god and extraterrestrial brothers

"just as there is a multiplicity of creatures on earth, there can be other beings, even intelligent, created by god. this is not in contrast with our faith because we can't put limits on god's creative freedom,"

-rev. jose gabriel funes, the 45-year-old jesuit priest who is the head of the vatican observatory and a scientific adviser to pope benedict

see, one effective way to provide a temporary order to the questions and the confusions of the societies of this world is to have an established institution, like the church, to release a statement expressing its consent to believe in the validity of metaphysical things like god, angels and aliens.

come on, let’s not put limits on god’s creative freedom. the god/s of the universe(s) can do whatever he/she/it/they wishes.

unfortunately, i compromised the american idol tickets over work and i did not watch the show on tv last night. yesterday was a busy, working day for me.
no regrets in choosing work over idol. either way i will be damn tired with work or with hours of standing at the audience area filled with screaming ai fans.

i plan to sign-up for another slot at the idol seats. maybe i can squeeze in next season's ai taping to my schedule.

anyways, the ai people will just be around hollywood.

just a thought

could the nine months of conception, days of nurture and care, hours of pain and sacrifice, minutes of labor and seconds of joy compensate to the almost 20 years of absence of a mother to your life?

happy mother’s day to all the mothers out there!

heart, dilemma

the moment i heard about jericho rosales and heart evangelista’s break-up on tv, a certain kind of joy possessed my heart. that’s the kind of plain, simple unadulterated joy that can make any gloomy day all sunshiny and bright.

it felt as if my feelings of admiration for her during thr g-mik days have been revived. maybe i still have a crush on her.

after her teeny-bopper days have long been buried to oblivion, her transformation of roles from being a biatch to being a bimbo to being a damsel in distress and finally to being jericho rosales’ partner gradually decreased my heart’s gusto for her.

but after hearing the news on tv, my heart experienced happiness. excuse me sir jericho and to all the solid jericho-heart fans out there, i don’t have the slightest intention of lording over the heart of ms heart. i just felt happiness. maybe it is happy to go back to the teenybopper days once in a while.

_________________

last thursday i received an email saying that i got myself voucher passes for the upcoming week’s american idol taping. the message says that the voucher is a free pass but does not guarantee the owner’s entrance, therefore the person must arrive early at the venue. all the seats at the studio were occupied and reserved for special people, which means that if ever i decide to walk in the studio, i will be standing for hours with all the screaming and yelling fans of the remaining idol contestants.

the dilemma is that the taping will be on tuesday, at around 1:30 pm but it is also a work-day. i am not sure if compromising work for an idol taping would be worth my time.

there is a disclaimer written on the voucher saying that you can only use the voucher on the specific date, and that there is no guarantee that you can get yourself a voucher pass in the future due to the show’s popularity and demand. so, if ever i decided to pass on this one and choose to apply for another voucher pass in the future, i will definitely miss this season.

i thought of giving my voucher pass to my sister and to my cousins but then it will be futile for it is named after me. they cannot enter the gates unless i come with them and then exit afterwards should i decide to come to work.

i am not a hardcore ai fan, but you don’t get to watch the idol performances live everyday eh? and besides, it will be the game of the top 3 competitors. but still, i don’t get paid watching ai. hmm, what do you think i should do?

hit the candy, show some love, vote

I just found out that my multiply photo blog (http://www.sphitbhraht.multiply.com) made it to the finals of the candy blog awards for this year.

I do ask your help, dear friend, to vote for this blog (Show don’t tell) at the BEST USE OF PHOTOGRAPHY CATEGORY.

Just visit this site: candyblogawards voting site

Do a one-time big time registration at the candymag.com website in order to cast your vote.

You can vote as many times as you want per day until the end of the voting period on June.

Thank you very much!

have you seen sizwe banzi?

i mean, have you read or heard about athol fugard’s play, siszwe bansi is dead?

can you please help me find a copy of the full text of the play?

i remember reading the filipino version of the play, entitled patay na si sizwebansi, translated by lualhati bautista (i think, please correct me if i’m wrong) years ago where i was fascinated by the subtle comedy and wit of its lines and its plot revolving around the theme of identity and memory.

i just wanted to read the english script and see if it will leave me in awe the way the filipino version did.

so if you please, please have a copy, can i have a copy too? please? thanks.

who knows, your generosity might be rewarded.

thank you vanilla

i wonder if reuben mattus felt moments of clarity and peace after tasting his first vanilla ice cream creation. the concocted butterfat and vanilla brought me several seconds of pure bliss. it was one of those rare feelings of happiness that you feel after shutting your mind away from the noise of your thoughts and veering your heart away from the roller coaster of emotions that you try to control.

the häagen-dazs ice cream brought me to a smooth ride of introspection through the past weeks where almost every day was a battle with emotions that send hundreds of blows of pain to the chest, emotions that rupture the control of the sweat glands, emotions that force the heart to pump thrice as fast as before, emotions that turn the stomach upside down, emotions that shut the rationality, emotions that excite the curiosity, emotions that erase the line between reality and fantasy, emotions that blur the uncertainties of the future and emotions that create chains of attachment.

it has been tough for i have limited forms of refuge. dark chocolates and ice creams provide a temporary relief to the wounded heart and mind, but the frequent and almost incessant blows, of the army of emotions could rock even the strongest wall of steel that you have built around your senses.

it has been a battle like that of minas tirith on middle earth. it could probably be compared to the second world war, only this time, the emotions of the heart wage war against the rationalities of the mind. it was a battle of david against goliaths of emotions that tower over my senses, consuming every ounce of courage i have in my system, attacking every fiber of defense left inside me.

no, it was never the army of love. for love is more fierce, and compelling, and powerful.

it could have been a new form of passion, a new concoction of lust and raw excitement with heaps of experimental acquaintances and bold efforts to create boundless connections to bodies, to minds and to souls.

i fought the battle with as much mind and will power but the fortress of the mind has grown weak through days of non-stop emotional blows.

i was defeated.

i succumbed to the army of emotions that conquered my system. i bathe with it, i sleep with it, i wake up with it and i breathe it.

for days i was enslaved by the myriad of overwhelming emotions that nearly devoured the rationality of my senses. thanks to the minutes of clarity and peace brought to me by the vanilla ice cream, i was able to recover from my defeat.

the difference among the wars of minas tirith, the past world wars, and the war of the emotions versus the mind, is the recovery period. both the wars of the middle earth and the past world wars created casualties that required years to recover but the aftermath of the mind’s war with emotions can be repaired and healed in minutes.

for the mind, it takes acceptance that there will be times in life when the army of emotions will emerge victorious from the battle. but this does not mean total surrender. the mind can condition the senses to reconcile with the emotions and channel them in as many areas of life as possible to gradually gain back control over them.

the minutes of clarity and peace i experienced from the vanilla ice cream helped my senses get back to their feet and eventually regain control over the sea of emotions.

maybe reuben mattus created the vanilla häagen-dazs to remind people to enjoy the good things in life while they last. you can only savor the moderately sweetened, smooth vanilla flavor of the ice cream in your tongue down to your mouth for a certain period. the calming and relaxing effect of the flavors that linger on your tongue will eventually melt with the butterfat, the vanilla, the sugar, and all the other ingredients of the ice cream.

the oompf factor

it is as vague as the feeling i felt after i learned from you that you are sharing your body and what have you with a new acquaintance.

part of me claims that i am hurt, or rather, my ego is hurt by the fact that you no longer own me, that you have disowned me eons ago, that i can no longer breathe your breath, that i can no longer hear your sobs, that i can no longer feel you heart by my chest, that the echoes of your voice can no longer haunt my memory.

part of me claims that i should pity you; that i should at least feel sorry for what happened to you, but part of me tells me that you are old enough to take responsibility over your actions.

part of me claims that i should still feel responsible for you, that despite the geographic and emotional distance, you can never erase the fact that you have become a huge part of my life as a very important person and as a friend.

part of me claims that i should be mad, that the bruised ego should at least retaliate, that the defeated spirit should at least put up a fight, that i should have done something and that i should have been more violent; but i easily forgive. i hope i forget easy too.

part of me claims that i should be happy for you, that you have move on with your life the way you wanted it to happen, that you are happy, that you can do whatever pleases you and that somebody is making you feel happy and loved.

part of me claims that i should now leave you with your life, that you are and will always be a free soul, that the world can never own you, that your heart is mature enough to beat for who it thinks is the right for you, that you are now a lady ready to face the world without tears in your eyes, that i have to live my life as well, that we can always remain friends and that you have the total control of your life.

see, this feeling is as vague as evangelista’s network shift to gma 7, or maybe as vague as the rice crisis, as vague as victoria becham’s blank expression on the photos, or as vague as the uncertain future, or as vague as the animals sounds at the zoo, or as vague as the babies’ cries, or as vague as a psycho mind, or as vague as this post.