Entries for October, 2008

October 5th, 2008

The First List

  1. Sometimes, it takes a painful experience to make us change our ways. -Proverbs 20.30
  2. Latest guilty pleasure: reading love notes. So fun, I'm telling you. Even letters of long ago. Simply takes the problem off my mind and ease my pain. Never fails.
  3. Wag mo nang itanong sa akin
    Di ko rin naman sasabihin
    Wag mo nang itanong sa akin
    At di ko na iisipin
  4. I've learned my lesson the hard way. And I'm sorry sa mga nadamay ko. Truly, I am.
  5. I'll be working on my autobiography for now.
  6. Well, before I go, I'll leave this poem exercise with you. No offense meant or whatsoever.
The Second Groundfall Pear

The timing is right, the taste is exact
Bitter sweet it is—-the perfect mix.
His taste buds can’t get enough of it—-
His tongue licked over the bare part.

listen Eraserheads' Magasin
read My Autobiography

yahn @ 08:39 AM | Book Of The Yahn [Add comment/s]



October 19th, 2008

The Difference*

The only constant thing in this world is change.

I find that saying rather ironic, don’t you think? Change itself is defined as inconsistency, but then this also is the one thing that remains—this just goes true for everything: people, events, relationships, etc. I often wonder what’s with this change—why this has to occur, how the transition of something to another thing happens, how people and events deal with it, and so much more. What if there was no change at all? Then, I’d say, maybe I wouldn’t be able to write this autobiography of mine—I wouldn’t have a story to tell.

I was born D_____ R____ R_____. My first name, D_____, is hand-picked by my own mother. Both my sister and I had our names coming from some other famous celebrity’s name: Kris for her, from the well-known Kris Aquino, and D_____ for me, from her royal highness, Princess Diana. We also both have the same second name, R____, which comes from our father’s name, Romy. They say they added the L to stand for love, but then I have theorized through time that they did this just so our names would sound like that of a female’s name instead of something else. And of course, Ruedas is our family name.

Through time I’ve adopted different nicknames—names or words that people associate to you so they could have something to call you when they recognize you—including: Baby, Yanni, Di, Bunso, D____g. I used to be called simply D_____, quite a long time ago. But now, in college, I’ve been accustomed to having three different names: D_____, Princesa and Yahn. I’ve already mentioned the history of my first name. Princesa was a title given by my friends that I met in college; they reasoned that this title fits me since I look and act like royalty. Maybe so, but then I always assure them that it’s just in the looks and actions. And then Yahn—it’s actually a username I’ve adopted since fourth year high school. It was supposed to be just a screen name to hide my identity in the internet world, but when emergency called for some nickname adaptation, I didn’t hesitate a minute to pick this one.

So, from one name sprouted three different nicknames—a clear manifestation of change: a change of name. I must admit that even this simple modification of my nickname brought an even greater change in and for me: birth of a new identity.

THE DEATH

Death starts with D and ends with H
It starts with D—denial of the inevitable
You deny somebody else’s grief and loss
You deny even your own mortality
But then it ends with H—hope amidst the irony
Just as we are clueless what will happen after our slumber
So do we hope that there’s more after our bodies are gone

I vividly recall my first encounter with death. It was my sister’s birthday, and it was pouring hard outside that night. Mom, even in her hazy schedule of taking care of us and of our grandmother, still managed to buy my sister a cake and have a little celebration in the dining area. I was five then, and, believe it or not, I couldn’t remember a single thing that happened before that tear-filled night. Whenever I look back on that day, my mind could still envision clearly that setting: my sister and I, hugging one another, wailing loudly, as if answering back the even louder wail of my mother—who was in the room across us, holding close our dead grandmother in her arms.

On the other hand, when asked about my latest encounter with death, I almost forgot the date for it was two years ago already. I couldn’t even recall who sent me the short message, informing me of the death of my grandfather. There was no emotion at all, even for my mother who again witnessed the death.

It’s odd for me to compare these two deaths though the differences are clear, while the similarities are minor. For one, they both are my mother’s parents. Also, they both died in our house in Biñan, and even right before my mother’s eyes. You’d probably say that I was closer to my grandmother that’s why my tears easily fell for her, compared to how I handled my grandfather’s death. Well, here’s the truth on that part: I was five then—what do I really know about death at such time? I may have cried back then, but I’d say that I had much more mature reasons now why there were no emotions. I didn’t cry for my grandmother because she was gone—I cried because of the ambience of the situation. I just knew for myself that we were in a very sad, very low condition—like, at such an early age, my mind has already adopted the clichés of society—and so tears fell from my eyes. Two years ago, no tear fell for… what’s the point, anyway? Would my tears bring back the dead? Definitely not. In fact, we even came to a point that we considered euthanasia—mercy killing. Yes, we have considered his painful situation. And I wouldn’t deny considering our feeble situation as well. Not that I’m emotionless, but through time I’ve learned to move on—and fast.

From the emotional cry-baby, to the impassively cool doll: another change to take note of me. I have conditioned myself to hide my emotions, and slowly feel no pain. At first I believe I did myself a favor by being optimistic, light-headed and carefree: letting pass the negative feelings and keeping the happy ones. Over time, I slowly let go of the good ones as well—becoming more and more serious. There was even a point when I didn’t even know what to feel anymore. I’ve slowly grown accustomed to dealing with no emotion at all. Perhaps that also explains why I’m a big liar today—hiding, and hiding, and still hiding.

THE GRANDFALL

The timing is right, the taste is exact
bitter sweet it is--the perfect mix.
His taste buds can’t get enough of it--
His tongue licked over the bare part.

I admit I am a big liar, minus the guilt. This guilt factor—I could not associate it with conscience, for if I did, then perhaps I wouldn’t have a clear sense of morality as well, which isn’t like me who believes in the good actions and intentions of people. Why do I lie? I only have two reasons: to serve my purpose, and to serve theirs. Anyway, the worst lie I’ve pulled so far happened summer of 2007.

The weekend before that planned summer escapade in Verde Island with my new found college buddies, I went home and brainstormed for a while—perhaps half a day—whether I will go with them, or I will let them go. Then again, my curiosity and thirst for adventure was so intense it swallowed my logic—that even though I have made up my mind to bring up the plans at home and ask mom and dad’s consent, I was more firm in the decision that I will go whether or not I have their consent. Yes, stubborn me once again in the league. I guess I get to blame them on moody, uncontrollable hormones.

Usually when I lie, I just hide the truth. I am a quiet person, and I admit even just now that I don’t speak a lot, not because I am shy or I have nothing to say, but because I have no lie to tell—I’m afraid of speaking of something so much opposite to a fact. That also explains why I so often use the words “according to” and “I think.” And that’s perhaps why I still consider myself to be truthful—after all, I don’t tell lies, do I?

Or so I deceive myself.

But now, you see, this lie is different. It is so much different from before wherein I simply hide the truth without exposing any hint of false story—even white lie. Today, looking back, I wonder if I ever had to tell that lie or if I really had to bring up my plans to them without really regarding what they had to say—I wonder how things could have turned out. Oh look, it's April Fool's day! I don't know who was really fooled that day. Did I really just fool my family and told them that I'm studying in Los Baños? Or did I just fool myself that I really want this to happen? What good would come out of getting in a far away land, kept as a secret to my family?

They are fools to believe such a beautiful liar as me. But I'm even more foolish for deceiving them—believing for myself that I could indeed fool them just like that. I hate to break their trust. I have everything to lose—especially their trust, something I definitely can't get back easily. A famous quotation rattled my mind: it takes a million good deeds to gain trust, but only one lousy mistake to lose it. I couldn’t agree more. My worry is not what if they find out. My worry is what will happen to me after. My worry is the long term effect. My worry is not about the scolding I'll get that'll take for hours, and I'll probably cry about. I am more worried about the trust that I just broke—how I'll ever get it back, or will I ever do so. I am worried how much trust they'll discredit me upon being caught, if they will at all. Karma will come back, that's for sure.

So I wasn’t caught then. The week passed as if I took this one crucial exam that determined my future, whether I’ll be taking the subject again or not. More than a year has passed but none of them has had a hint yet. I actually planned to tell them the truth about this after a year or so, but then I often considered the trust I’m about to break if I did such—how I’ll ever convince them again to allow me to go to some place, knowing I’m a traveler, always seeking adventure in different locations.

Then came a turning point in my life: when I was found out to be a member of a sorority. No, joining one wasn’t exactly the turning point—the revelation to my family was. That’s when I officially broke their trust. And I didn’t just break my parent’s trust—I also broke my sister’s and even my concerned relatives’. It was a turning point in a way that since my lie has been exposed, I’ve learned to be a little more ‘talkative’ than before. When I go home, I don’t tell stories about school—I don’t talk much about what happens with me in the campus. And that was before. Now, they often ask me how I’m doing at school—and in turn I tell stories this time around. Before I would think they wouldn’t care since they wouldn’t understand. But now I found out that they do care if I just explain things well—complete and detailed.

The change is obvious: from being speechless to being a story-teller. That really is the case, and it would be ironic if I said that the transition was from being a liar to being honest. I no longer deceived; I blatantly lie this time. I no longer ask how I’ve come from that to this. I just wonder now when I’ll stop—and how.

If I’m asked what is the one passion that I have, I would have a pair of answer—two activities that I believe go hand in hand: reading and writing. Every time I encounter the heading ‘hobbies’ in autograph notebooks and some other identification forms, these are the first things that come in my mind—and it’s like automatic for me to answer these two.

I simply love reading novels—even to the point of missing on some movies for some time just so I could finish reading the book it is based from. I even read ‘The Da Vinci Code’ in three days only just so on that day my friends and I planned to watch its movie, I’m simply through with the book—and I would have better knowledge of the story knowing how more detailed books are. On the other hand, I am very much into writing—though not literally hand-writing. I even enjoy typing, in which case I came to a point where I almost believed to myself that I just like the feel of typing and not really writing. Well actually, I do love writing—especially thinking of what to write about. I’ve already mentioned that I’m not much of the talkative person. I have a lot—and I mean lots—of ideas in mind, though I don’t express them verbally. So, my outlet is in writing, wherein I get to organize and edit my thoughts.

I simply love writing. I even keep a diary, since high school. I did write in a diary because I wanted to hone my writing skills—believing I am a good one. Well, I do have a knack for writing anyway. The diary did help me practice my writing: in organizing my sentences and thoughts, and in the expression of my ideas. But since this diary is personal, it also helped me keep track of my life; it was like a reflection notebook to me: helps me whenever I wanted to look back and review my past situations and reactions.

Actually, I kept a diary initially because I wanted to record my life: I wanted a personal account of my own life that I would be able to pass on to the next generation so they would know who I had been. I used back then diaries with locks, and changed my diary every year, starting it with a New Year entry. I still have a diary of my own, only this time it’s online—blog as they call it. And there are no boundaries as to who could read it: I have opened it all. I was still honest in my writing, but then I was more cautious. Not just in what I say there, but also the grammar and diction. And of course, it still is for the documentation—though not just about my life and who I had been and what I have done, but as well as what I have learned along the way, things worth passing on to the youth.

So changes are drastic, some are not. But whatever transition we go through, it will only go in either of the two ways: for the better, or for the worse. And assessing from this autobiography, I reckon most were for the better, rather than the worse.

If change wasn’t constant in this world, then maybe all else will be. Ironically true—a great paradox of life.

Names have been concealed to protect the privacy of Yahn. This autobiography is part of a final project passed in Humanities 1: Literature, Arts and Man. Some parts have been edited to fit in this blog. All rights reserved.


mood bitin
listen Eraserheads
watch Grey's Anatomy Season 4

yahn @ 01:39 AM | Book Of The Yahn [2 comment/s]



Stressed

Wonder why I'm still up at such hour? Yeah, it's sembreak for everyone else, but not me. It might even be one big break for me after Monday. *sigh*

I am so stressed lately. Here's a rundown of the hell I've been in this week:

Well, none of them matter now. I have to move on now and study some more. Oooh, I better do well this time. I'm sweating bullets for the subject. Now I'm leaving the rest to God. I know how far I can go, and I'm in faith of what God really wants out of my life. Amen to that.

Lately, I've been musing over shifting to Civil Engineering. Then again I remember that I'm that kind of person who finishes what's been started. So now I'm wondering if I'll get a double degree. Mmm, silly me. I know.

Still now, I'm in yet another dilemma. I'm torn between two beliefs: the past and present. Well, I wouldn't really consider it a distant past--it's a continuing until now, actually. Perhaps the real difference is the first is a continuous one for a long time, then the other is a not-so-long time. Anyway, I'm going into some soul searching this semester break: reviewing my priorities in life, my purposes, my identity. This sem has been a haphazard journey for me. Truly.

That's it for now. It's about time I slept. Damn I didn't study again. Singko can't be happening to me. Do pray for me--for my sanity, that is. Thank you so much.

PS: A lot has changed, admit it--A LOT.


mood depressed
listen Updharmadown's Oo

yahn @ 02:18 AM | Book Of The Yahn [Add comment/s]



October 23rd, 2008

Yahn's Diagnosis

I'm at the peak of my teenage years!

The ultimate understatement.

I realized this just yesterday morning.

Kaya naman ako bilib sa iyo
Kase parang napakatibay mo
Lahat ng iharang ay kaya mong daanan
Basta't mayrong bentang alak dyan sa may tindahan

I am indeed at the peak of my youth. I just had this conversation with my mother the other night, and we happen to be talking about my sister who's out of the house then--and seemingly has no plans of coming home this semestral break. [Well, she's here now though.] Anyway, she was out because of boredom. And mother and I were just musing and arguing why she had to go out when, indeed, sister could lie down and rest at our new, fully furnished, cozy home. Suddenly this came out of my mouth:

Mom, you can't tell us to go rest. We're at the PEAK OF OUR YOUTH. Rest is the LAST thing we'll want.

And we both just couldn't agree any less. Point taken, I'd say.

OK, so yesterday was the official start of my semestral break. I've been pretty much looking forward for this three-week vacation, aka freedom from academic load and responsibilities. Then again, like what happened last year, I'm still waiting for that make-or-break final exam results that I plan to peak into this Friday--that very subject that I couldn't afford to fail. Only this time, I'm sure I'm gonna fail it. Where on earth will I get the 97% I need in the finals just to get the golden 3.0?

Of course, if I didn't really have enough confidence for myself and right faith in God, I wouldn't really care about the finals, and just go let the exam pass by me. No, I believed because God was able to make a miracle back then, and now I'm hoping he'll do the same. Still, as of now, I'm just expecting the worse. I no longer hope optimistically. Instead, I'm now looking deep and pondering on the many different aspecets of my failure: the why's, how's, and what's.

And I reckon now's the time to answer those things. So here goes.

What on freakin' earth happened?

I don't know. I just don't. Or is it just that I don't really want to know?

One minute I was passing two out of the three exams with almost flying colors. And the next thing I knew, the last exam was awfully a lot lower than the second one, which I expected to be my lowest.

I am definitely studying. If not, I wouldn't even have managed to gain even ten points in the exam. I have been collecting zero quiz scores in just about the second half of the semester just because of knowing only the concepts without any practice. Now how could you blame me to be lazy for spending an awful lot of energy and time studying, asking and reviewing with my classmates? Or did I study, ask and review just in time for the exam--and not all the time, knowing I'll be dealing with such concepts for all time to come?

Maybe my notes weren't complete. I definitely have to take down notes now. Then again, I may not have good hand-writing [even I, have a hard time depicting my hand-written words], but I know I take down notes, even if they're already typed down and ready for photocopying. Or I suppose that's the case for my other subjects, not for the EE.

Would you agree that I have in fact taken for granted the subject?

Why oh why?

And why would I take for granted such a major subject that I couldn't afford to fail, as I've been mentioning a lot of times already? Why on earth, WHY?

Am I just really that lazy? Am I just taking my time--cozying around in college, knowing things can't get this care-free by the time I actually work?

Am I also not taking for granted what I have now for the more that I could get later on? Am I not wasting my time and energy--and most especially money that happens to be technically not mine--on quadrant 4: the things not important and definitely not urgent?

College is the best time of your life. When else are your parents going to spend several thousand dollars a year just for you to go to a strange town and get drunk every night? ~David Wood

On a 'why' basis, I guess I just misplaced my focus--I concentrated on something, rather some things, that I'm not really supposed to worry about, rather than on that one essential subject that, again, I couldn't afford to fail.

How on earth did you get from there to here?

Now, that has to be the most puzzling question of all. That, I am sure of, I do not know.

As I write this, I couldn't help looking back on my old blog entries, and reading my own writing for the past years. And as I read through my history, I also couldn't help wonder: Yahn, how on earth could you have gotten here from there?

I might go crazy for just not being able to face boldly my own weaknesses. Now, I'm not saying that I might because I have the tendency to do so. I say I might because there's equal possibility for everyone, not just me. Like, statistically speaking, personal issues not dealt with properly are top causes of personality disorders and the like. You already know what I'm saying.

I could just go crazy wondering for myself how these changes have taken place. The question keeps on resounding in my head. Memories don't flash back like they used to--because there's no memory to flash back; I haven't pinpointed yet what part of my memory is supposed to give a fairly reasonable answer.

What is that we call critical point--what is that for me?

If this wasn't supposed to be the case; then why [is this happening?]
[excerpt from Pornographic Effect]

I had this conversation with my closest EE pal who failed the same subject. He told me: Buti ka nga patawa-tawa lang eh, kalmadong-kalmado lang. Then I got to answer him by nightfall, when I got drunk: Alam mo, gusto kong maiyak; kaso, hindi ko rin talaga alam kung kaiyak-iyak nga ba o hindi--kaya walang tumutulong luha din.

Yes I know why I get to laugh still, after all that's been said and mostly done. I know this in my heart, and I get to admit that I didn't do my best. I'd definitely cry like him if I did. But no--there wasn't a slightest hint of best in my efforts then. I thought I was doing something, then again really I was just holding on to luck--to my own present capabilities. Learning--am I not supposed to learn NEW things and develop the old ones--instead of letting them get wasted for nothing?

Now take this diagnosis of mine, just to close this analysis:

Change is inevitable--definitely. Nobody escapes it: rich, poor, slave, master, student, professor. We'll all go through many different changes. It doesn't matter what you'll transform into or how the transition from one to another took place.

I'm adaptive to change, so I haven't much problem with changes taking place--I get to easily cope on that matter. What's bad here now is that change is so constant, that I'm as adaptive as well--I'm as fluctuating as my circumstances. Worst, my goals and priorities are the most affected in such adaptations.

I'd say: why try actual long-term planning? Expecting big shifts in life, but still holding on to the same principles... and in the long run, finding myself fulfilled for having been in control and holding fast to what really matters.

Nananabik na lalamunan
Naghihintay, nag-aabang

Now there's just one question in my mind: am I really enjoying these changes or what? Then again, really, does it matter if I wanted these or simply why I have to go through these changes? Do I really get to know that intruiging reason, or just move on with life and pick up the lessons and memories to be picked up?

A t-shirt print I read on my way home:
If you think the truth hurts, then prepare yourself for PAIN.
Good point.

I'm ready.


mood tired
listen Parokya ni Edgar songs
read Twilight series
watch Grey's Anatomy Season 4

yahn @ 04:09 AM | Book Of The Yahn [Add comment/s]



October 27th, 2008

The Search: Motivation Driven

Perhaps the distant part of the sky always seems clearest, so that we will always strive to reach it. ~Kenshin Himura

The ultimate cat-rat race.

So this is how I've dealt with life in the past, haven't I? I was like a cat chasing over a rat. Why is the cat so much after the rat? And the rat--what is it running away from? The quote goes like this: the cat runs after something to eat, and the rat runs after its life. I realize that all this time--all these goals that I have accomplished and failed and plan to make--all of them are to no avail; I was just chasing after something short term.

I wondered even deeply: what happens then if the cat outruns the rat? I guess nothing--the cat would have no gain. Fulfillment perhaps, but only for a period of time. In no time, we'd find it again chasing another rat. On the other hand, the rat here is after its own life, the very essence of its existence.

I view here life as an endless cycle. Either you repeat the same procedure over and over again. Or discover and become something new and better every now and then. Right now, I don't feel as much motivated or inspired as before. But right now also, a new light has been shed, and I begin to see a deeper meaning of life for me. Life to me has been a series of ups and downs for me. That perspective will be retained, except that I've added something to it as well: the ups and downs are all part of answering the higher call.

We are not cats that do the same things over and over again, chasing after the same objectives over and over. We are no rats as well that strive to just exist and keep on outwitting death until it can. We are HUMAN BEINGS: capable of thinking, feeling, acting. You and I are human beings able to weigh things and decide, able to feel and control emotions, able to act as our conscience tells us so. We are beings that know, desire, and are able to REACH UP--to become something more and do better.

God has given us each a unique passion, endeavor of our own. Our desires come from God, and all belongs back to Him. Our desire is Him in fact--the ultimate, the highest. No wonder he's labeled the alpha and the omega.

Then again, maybe I'm just looking for some love. It's 4 AM already but I'm still up. No wonder pimples are popping out of my forehead every now and then.

Anyway, so I've been feeling nostalgic lately that I couldn't help but peak into my old blog posts--and I do mean old. It has been keeping me awake at night, but I have to admit they've come in handy just in time--in time when I need them most.

This entry is supposed to be longer--I had a lot to speak of still. Fortunately I came across my old blog posts and helped me cut the crap though. Everytime I'm supposed to post this one, the browser hungs big time, and then I'd have to reload and edit all over again this post. And everytime I'm on the verge of clicking that 'Publish' button, I hesitate big time, feeling so unsure of what I've just typed--what I just blurted out, the ideas that came out of my head.

I just find it funny to realize that WHAT'S BEEN SAID HAS BEEN SAID. There's nothing more to change really--just add. I was about to blurt out things I believe I'm bound to regret, but hey! Thanks to that nostalgic sense of digging through my past, I realized that I've said a lot already back then--and now I'm not supposed to contradict those. Not only would it confuse my readers, but it would also create chaos in my already boggled mind.

Which also reminds me that I might perhaps be getting a bit wee older.

See how forgetful I am? Even the lessons already slapped at my face are easily forgotten. I realize that indeed I've gone through a lot. Reminder to self: I'm no kid anymore. I'm almost twenty, remember?

So I reckon I would have to be a bit more nostalgic for the next few days, until I get myself back on track. I'm almost there--almost motivated. The ol' Yahn that I'm pretty familiar with is just around the corner. In this life, there are still lessons to be learned. But in my case, lessons are to be rather RELEARNED.

God bless, I'd say. God speed.


yahn @ 03:47 AM | Ice-peek!, Book Of The Yahn [Add comment/s]



October 28th, 2008

Tunay na Komedya: Mga Pagmumuni sa Buhay

You change. You get over with it and move on. ~Lexie Grey

Narito ang ilan sa mga linyang nahagip ng mata ko sa aking ilang araw na putol-putol na pagmumuni-muni at pagbabasa-basa.

Ano nga naman kasing katawa-tawa sa mga ito? Aba, akalain mong ako mismo nakapagsabi ng lahat ng iyan. At nagsimula lang naman yan sa nabasa kong only lazy people find life a bore. Akalain mo nga namang ang pinagdadaanan ko ngayon eh nagawan ko na ng reflections tatlong taon na nakakaraan. Napaka-ulyanin ko lang, di ba?

Aaminin ko, marami akong napagtanto sa aking pagmumuni-muni. Malamang, dapat lang. Nakita ko ang laki ng aking pinagbago, ang paghubog sakin ng mga pangyayari, at ang dinami-dami nang naging karanasan ko. Marami na pala talagang nangyari sa buhay ko, no?

Una na sa napansin ko ang pagpasok ko sa kolehiyo. Naalala ko lang base sa mga nabasa ko ang kaba na nadama ko pagpasok sa UP. Gulong-gulo ako noon kung tutuloy nga ba ako o susundin ko ang tinagurian ko nang the Ateneo dream. Ayoko pa noon sa UP dahil gusto ko sa Diliman kaysa sa LB, at nais ko pa noon ang BS ECE. Doon ko rin naalala kung gaano ko rin ninais bago pa man lumabas ang UPCAT application forms ang kursong BS CE. Pero ngayon nasan na ko?

Nabasa ko pa roon yun mga dati kong plano para sa aking buhay. Sa totoo lang, yun mga planong yun ay nalalapit nang matupad dahil nalalapit na rin ang araw na binalak ko silang matupad. Pero wala rin sa mga yon ang nakikita kong malapit ng matupad, o matutupad man kailanman. Meron pa akong nabasang pangarap ko na matupad sa isang taon ngunit ngayong binabalikan ko'y di naman naisakatuparan.

Napaisip lang naman ako sa aking sitwasyon, at naging sitwasyon na rin. Hindi nga naman lahat ng plano ay natutupad ayon sa nais natin. Hindi nga naman kasi talaga tayo ang in control. Ang bigat ng naging pakiramdam ko sa mga setbacks at pagbabagong kinailangan kong harapin. Haha, eh akalain mong dumaan na rin ako sa ganitong pangyayaring kailangan talaga mag-adapt--eh anong kaibahan, di ba?

Napagtanto ko tuloy na marahil ay hindi pa nga ako mature. I'm sure I get to handle such stuffs as before, but now I see that I can't handle well my own decisions. Yun kasi nakikita kong kaibahan: parang wala akong kontrol dati, ito lang naibigay saking choice, kaya move on lang at umayon na lang sa pagbabago. This time, though, it's all basically up to me: desisyon ko ang nagpasok sakin dito, nabigyan ako ng sapat na pamimilian para sa kinabukasan ko.

Kung tutuusin di ko rin naman binalak na mamulat sa bagong paniniwala. Bago, pero di na rin lingid sa kaalaman ko. Pero ang magkaroon ng affiliation ang matagal-tagal ko na rin pinangarap--at ngayon nga ay natupad na. Hindi ko lang akalain ang mga consequences na naghihintay sakin. Gayunpaman, dahil ito ang tunay na ginusto ko at inaasam ko, mas handa akong mabuhay kaakibat ito kaysa sa nauna. Dahil ito ang mas malapit sa plano ko, hindi yun una.

Hay, katatawanan ng buhay. I am so cool, I'm telling you. Ang sarap sa pakiramdam na maibalik yun dating carefree at masayahin na ako. Salamat sa Diyos.


yahn @ 03:14 AM | Ice-peek!, Book Of The Yahn [Add comment/s]



October 31st, 2008

A Story of Morality: The Dark Knight Review

I've been really meaning to write this review, since the first time I saw the movie in a friend's house in the middle of the month. But only now have the right words come to me and enabled me to type this one up.

So, how do I begin this critique? The title itself, The Dark Knight, was rather appealing to me, having not guessed that it is actually a sequel to Batman Begins--a comic-character-based film. It was released more or less four months ago, and only this month have I been mesmerized by its very intelligent weave.

Yes, I have been fully aware that it was on the big screen on its official release. In those days, late June and early July, I have heard many of my friends and companions having seen it, and heard as well their reactions. Some were displeased--by its lengthy air time [runs about two and a half hours], the deep story plot, the cinematography or rather the misplaced and juggled special effects that were of no help in the improvement of the movie itself [though fortunately, it had no bad effect as to the film in general]. Still, some were pleased, and I weigh that I've heard more positive comments than negative ones.

And when I finally saw it for myself, I was awestruck, and didn't wonder anymore why a lot had recommended it to me.

The Dark Knight is a film like I've never seen before. It is a serious work of art that instead of being just another action-thriller--with all the bombs, the guns, the fight scenes, and the like--the plot was more vibrant, the message was sent across, and the lines just 'tell it like it is.' It is one very deep movie, I suggest.

It was long, indeed--much too longer than the usual movies, with air time amounting to almost a hundred and fifty minutes. But I could well say that it was all worth it. It is a satisfactory movie, not because of the action [believe me, it did lack that], but because of the suspense--how things unfold every minute of the movie, how the unpredictable Joker does his thing; and also the drama--how all the characters strive to survive the whole time, while keeping their sanity and morality.

Heath Ledger played the Joker so well here, that I failed to recognize him even without the make up, and even with his creepy acting. He made it seem like such a Joker could actually exist, and he portrayed that character so well. Christian Bale as the Bruce Wayne/Batman did justice to the character as well, except that the husky/bedroom-voice [as my friend suggests] when he's in his costume distracts his audience--it doesn't make him quite that audibly understandable. Aaron Eckhart did justice just as well to his character, Harvey Dent--turning from Gotham's white knight into something more of a bitter lover who lost his love.

See, The Dark Knight here tackles something deep: morality of men. Sounds naive, but it is serious. The Joker keeps on pushing people to their limits--and even Batman--proving to the world that everyone's just as bad as he is. He put it quite rightly, "They're only as good as the world allows them to be." Add up to that Dent's famous line, "Either you die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

Indeed, circumstances best define the principles of men--of what really matters to him and what he believes in. True enough, you couldn't say you are faithful having not tested even once your faith, you couldn't say you're brave having not even once faced a dangerous situation, and you couldn't possibly say you're good without being tempted even once to be bad. Enough said, our circumstances show who we really are: what we believe in, and what we are able to do.

We could well agree that decisions define who we are, and not our circumstances, right? Our circumstances show us, and the watchful people, the very few choices we are given, and that very choice we decide upon define who we really are: what really matters to us, the center of our lives. Our true selves appear in the way circumstances give us a hard time in making decisions. We wouldn't be where we are right now if not for the experiences we've gone through, now would we?

I know, the Spiderman trilogy wasn't all about the action and the handsome actors and the gorgeous actress. It also tackled well issues on morality and is filled with many great lessons. But then, I've found this Dark Knight to tackle this issue on goodness and badness in a very much deeper sense--one that concerns not only the hero alone, but that of individuals in general.

Anyway, I'm giving the thumbs up for this great film by Christopher Nolan: well-crafted, breath-taking and full of sense--something that horror movies lack, making them pointless. The Dark Knight may not satisfy you cravings for great action and special effects, but the story itself, as well as the script, is enough to make you forget what it lacks.


yahn @ 05:56 PM | Ice-peek! [Add comment/s]



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