The origin of my so-called sentiments

larawan ng isang bulubunduking probinsya sa bandang Southern Tagalog

Our place was not exactly locked by mountains but lack of concrete roads 30 years ago minimized access to commerce and education/ skyscrapercity.com

 

My sentimentality could probably be traced upon those rice fields I walked on when I was little. I grew up in the boundary of two small villages surrounded by mountains on three sides. The fourth mountain’s already too far to fence in our humble settlement, our little civilization in that forgotten side of the province. And anyway, it’s actually a mountain range that stretches too long – too bluish green, too distant and too far –  from where my family and I used to live. Thus, the first strong feeling I had, was my wonderment at what could be there, beyond those mountains. Every time I would walk on those paths in the fields with some of the rice leaves touching my face, I would resolve to get out of the barrio to see for myself what could be out there, beyond and away.

The second sentiment, I believe, has something to do with slippers. In our place, walking was a way of life. By the way, am talking three decades ago when cemented roads was but a dream. It was common in those days to be walking three to four kilometers going to a place and same distance going back. Thus, a pair of slippers had the utility almost similar to having a car in the modern days. But a family with a dozen members could barely afford such – each child was accorded one pair a year. With a fair amount of walking, a pair could hardly hold up until the middle of the year. Our slippers usually had big holes in them. Stepping on the city for the first time when I was ten,  imagine the consternation I felt upon seeing hundreds and hundreds of pairs being sold in the market. I think that was my first realization that we were very poor…

The third and possibly the strongest sentiment I had and still have, has something to do with learning. There were very few books in our house as there were some borrowed copies of old magazines and practically no writing materials.  I think our mother endeavored to buy a pencil or a pen and a crayon set for each child every start of school year but that was it. We had to borrow or make do in between, practicing writing at the back of her student’s checked exam papers. No books were bought for us from elementary to high school, the slim family budget saw to that. My siblings and I all went to public  schools during our primary and the books we used then were government- issued. The book ratio during my time was 1:3, that is, one book for every three students. All of us survived that phase, I guess. There really wasn’t much choice.

In high school, I saved for months to be able to buy my first two textbooks. It was mandatory for students to have a personal copy, our teacher was the author. The fateful subject was Practical Arts or Home Economics, in third year and fourth year. Going thru the texts of the slim book, I felt proud as could be.  Putting coins in my Johnson’s Baby Powder piggy bank paid off, haha. ^_^

 

larawan ng johnson's baby powder

One bores a hole on the top of the canister to make a piggy bank/ evecare.com

 

Demotivational Posters for Bloggers! from Bestbathroombooks

Reblogged from bestbathroombooks:

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As most of you know, besides my incredibly successful blog bestbathroombooks, I work for WordPress.  They hire me from time to time to show other bloggers that writing a blog is easy, fun and not a complete waste of their lives.  I think we can all agree I’ve done a spectacular job.

Well, actually, too good a job.

Read more… 98 more words

  Well, I barely know this guy... But at the rate he's bashing and blasting every blogger (well, almost), I might as well echo some of his mischievous words and try Wordpress'  reblogging feature. He prides himself on toilet humor but has got most people laughing their asses off, in the and on the way out of, the bathroom, haha. Claims he's from the low end of the spectrum. Now, what does that make us, huh? He's some kinda... Here's BBB. Have a good laugh, folks! ;)

The Kina Grannis Variety

 

You can bet my sister grilled me for discussing Jason Mraz again in my post, haha. In addition, she castigated me for mentioning Kina Grannis, the young,  Californian pop singer, while describing the music of Elisa, the Italian pop singer. She said I was  being a snob and trying to pick a fight with Kina Grannis’ fans, of which I know there are legions. When I told her that I often listen to Kina’s songs, she wouldn’t believe me. I said I have spent more time watching the singer’s videos on Youtube and on Vimeo than I have, listening to Elisa’s songs.

The sister then gave me a mini-quiz to verify my claim. After a while, she asked me if I have heard Kina’s rendition of Fast Car. Of course, the answer was yes. I then told her what I thought of Alejandro, the guy from the Boyce Avenue band who sang the Tracy Chapman song with Kina. She was convinced, finally – I seem to be familiar with Kina’s songs alright. Story was, when Boyce Avenue went to the Philippines, the sister happened to be seated next to the band members, on the flight from Cebu to Manila. She said they were cool and kind, asking her questions about the Jabbawockeez. At any rate, she still wants to whack me for having written about Kina that way, haha.

 

 

Lest people think that I am a fat, jealous loser (FJL) who envies Kina Grannis for her talent, beauty and popularity, let me say that is only partly true. Haha, this feels like convincing the traffic officer why I shouldn’t be made to sing the national anthem before the staring public when I did in fact, jaywalk. For one, I ain’t fat. For another, it takes a whole lot to make me jealous. Lastly, me a loser?  Why, I’m a blogger! ;) Neither fat nor jealous and listens attentively to Kina Grannis’ songs – that’s me. Know what? I wish I could be like her. Don’t you? :)

Although both artists play pop music, Elisa and Kina sing different songs as they come from different molds. My guess would be that the messages of Elisa’s songs are tough love. Listening to her, one could sense the aches, the difficulties and the struggles as a person tries to grapple with the confusions and the hardships that go with life. On the other hand, Kina’s songs – as seen on MTVs – often have green grass, playful clouds and pretty flowers in them. I think the messages being conveyed are, that love is just around the corner and that dreams do come true. And doesn’t it make a lot of sense  for somebody that young?  It does.

 

 

I’ve met difficult situations and have had my share of hardships and that would perhaps explain why Elisa’s songs strike a chord with me. But just like the next person, I wish and long for sunny days, happy times and love realized. Preferably, with plenty of cheerful music thrown in, haha. Thus, I can understand myself (yes, this self that often lends itself beyond understanding) being drawn to Kina’s songs likewise. And while I am painfully aware that not everybody can be like Kina or Elisa – young talents who sing their way into our hearts and into the world – I am glad that there are a few who can, and do.

And while much can be said about songs being vehicles for propaganda, tools for escapism and there being unequal opportunities for commercialization of talents, I hold that one’s personal choice of songs can be fluid and varied. A person watches, listens to and sings along with the artists whose songs reflect his or her personal sentiments in life. And even as that life may not be as grand, as semi-charmed or as easy or as difficult as portrayed in the music video or, in the artist’s life, it remains one’s choice what kind of music he or she will patronize. I humbly suppose that to a large extent, music is instinctive. In the early stage, our exposure to it is captive, exploratory the next and a little more discriminating, as we trudge farther along.

Thus, a fan or a listener gains knowledge, if not sophistication, in music as he or she is exposed to more and more of it. Methinks a person comes around to it, ultimately. And it is not for me to tell whether one should go for the artist who gives the message and the melody to you hard or soft, as it is for you to believe. Heck, I can barely carry a tune. More often, I only remember the chorus part, dang! But I’m prattling. I said that Elisa’s music is not the Kina Grannis variety, yes. I did not mean that Kina’s music is inferior but only different. Thus, if there is any I have offended, sorry – truly sorry. No intention to bring Kina down or to lift Elisa or myself up.  I like Kina and her songs. There.

By the way, here is the Tracy Chapman original rendition of Fast Car. For those unfamiliar, Tracy is a female who looks and sounds like a male (no pun intended). She sings great! She was huge in the music scene from the late 80s to the 90s – singing about the plight of the black, poor and downtrodden people in the modern times. She is still very much around. Hey, this is where my sister and I agree – that Tracy Chapman is one superb singer and songwriter. :)

 

 

“Argue for your limitations and sure enough, they are yours. “

- Richard Bach

 

Brownie Points

 

The recent days have been bright, bright, bright, as one could imagine. Yep, that’s how it is being in a tropical country, yo! The sun rays permeate and light up everything – from the dark corners, to the clotheslines at the back of one’s house, to the streets and avenues, yes. Did I say that the roads are scorching hot? Yes, they are. It’s summertime over here, folks. Once a person is out of the air-conditioned room, he is sweating from his head, to his neck, and of course, at the armpits, haha.

 

larawan ng sampayan ng damit

Summertime, clothes dry faster/ craftrooms.blogspot.com

 

To say it is humid is to understate things,  a whole lot. Somebody said that there are two seasons in the Philippines: hot and very hot. That’s a joke, of course. It’s actually wet and dry. But hey, there are months here when things are wet, wet,wet. Kiddin.’  There are months when the rains fall without let up. Storms do visit us like an arduous suitor – here now and here again, later. But that’s a fact. We get an average of 19 storms a year. That partly explains the resiliency of Filipinos – we’re used to rebuilding, haha.

Anyway, as bright and hot as the days are, am illumined and gladdened by the fact that there are actually a couple of souls who read my blogs. It is an experimental site, as I said to some online friends a few months ago. It isn’t like I don’t write in English in real life, I do.  But for a long time, I did not take pride in it, to be honest.  Most of the things I’ve written so far are related to Economics, politics (governance, development, regulation) and hundreds of  business letters, haha. I’ve written mostly behind the scenes.

So, when the idea of doing a blog in English occurred to me, I was unsure as to what to put in, seriously. I thought, if one’s going to write a blog and in English at that, she must have a bunch of friends who would read and follow the same avidly – via Facebook or other social media. Thing is, most of my friends are now busy raising their kids. They’re not into blogging, as writers or readers or both. And old-fashioned me does not have a Facebook account. Thus, I didn’t think this site would be patronized – by friends and strangers alike. It turned out, I’m wrong, one way or the other.

Happily, more than three people bother to drop by here, every now and then (Huge thanks, you, lovely people! Lab, lab, lab ;) ). Some leave their marks via Like, some even ask thought-provoking questions and some leave cheerful remarks. These are beyond what I hoped for or expected. Back then, I thought I’d be left alone for the most part.  But that was false thinking, I can see now. In blogging, there appear to be brownie points. Yeah! Why didn’t I think of that before, huh? And one does encounter different sorts, at different time zones, haha. ;) She comes across serious writers, as well, who also happen to be diligent readers.

larawan ng VBA

Too early for this but I ain’t returning it. *wink*

Coincidentally, one of them is Mars of the positive toxicity.  She’s a Filipina in her early twenties. We have not met personally, yet. I tagged her once and the grateful daughter of the quilt that she is,  she has nominated me for the Versatile Blogger Award. Some repayment, huh? I would have liked to pull her hair and call her attention to the fact that I’ve not written anything here that deserves accolade. But she seems to be the kind that’s hard to convince. So, am not gonna try. Am not going to return it, either. It doesn’t happen everyday, see? Thus, I am accepting it, with all the smugness I can muster (I copied that one),  and, with all the gratitude – thank you, Mars. May your blessings multiply and may your writings get better and better… :)

 

Seven Random Things:

 

1. I am afraid of the camera – afraid to hold it and afraid to have my photos taken. My sibling likens this to tribesmen’s fear of having their souls taken away when the apparatus clicks.

2. I was a tall, thin girl for a long time – string-bean Tina type.  Several years and several pounds later, several people could hardly recognize me. It’s the same me, only thicker in the middle, huh?!

3. I am seriously aggrieved by a flying cockroach - just like Mars, I hold that crawling cockroaches are facts of life, but flying ones are a different matter altogether.

4. I drink coffee three times a day. I would have wanted more but one needs sleep.

5. I take long walks whenever I can. When I was younger, it was jogging.

6. I buy sauteed peanuts off the pushcart whenever I do marketing.

7. I used to have a site (blog) in Tagalog that talks about life in the countryside in the days before most Filipino bloggers were born, ahaha. ;)

 

I have tagged most of these people before, but I guess it’d be fun to check them out once again:

 

larawan ng brownies

Thank you for reading this far. ;) / browniepower.com

Thanks for reading. Have a good weekend ahead, folks! Many happy returns… :)

 

Firmaments

larawan ng langit na dumidilim bago lumubog ang araw

Overcast sky by the MOA baywalk before the sun sets

 

The firmament does magic. Go to the Mall of Asia bay before six in the evening to see, not just how the sun sets, but also how the sky transforms itself. At this hour, the ceiling of the horizon might be overcast but with no evidence of rain about to fall.

 

larawan ng tabing-dagat ng Maynila sa dapithapon

People come around to be by the sea, to experience wide space after work or school.

 

Underneath this awning,  there is the darkening, glistening sea, its waves gently lapping the rocks by the breakwater.

 

Larawan ng mga along tahimik na humahampas sa mga bato sa baybay-dagat

The water seems to whisper softly onto the rocks

 

The promenade and the surroundings still look and feel clear. There is no need yet to turn the camera’s night mode on.

 

larawan ng lakaran sa may tabing-dagat katapat ng Mall of Asia

The night and the day wrestle for the dominion of the sky

 

Plenty of ambient light, although the coming of the night is pre-announced by the soft, cool winds blowing from the Northwest. Only the fishy, tangy smell of the sea reminds one of the nearness of this gigantic body of water.

 

larawan ng mga taong nanonood ng pagpapalit-kulay ng langit sa dapithapon

Watching the sky transform and the sun set by the Manila’s breakwater

 

* This is an excerpt from a much longer write-up written on January 20, 2012, with the title,  Of Firmaments and Skyscrapers, an essay discussing the Manila Bay sky and the buildings in Makati’s central business district. Photos were taken by somebody who is not claiming to be a photographer at the MOA baywalk on January 17, 2012.

 

** The site has a humble gravatar, finally, taken from the the said photo series.

 

there’s always a rich relative

larawan ng isang matriarch

The rich relative has connections, for sure/ antoniotahhan.com

In writing as in life, there’s always a rich relative. While this character may know little about literature, the arts and classic architecture, it figures prominently in most writers’ works. It may be there as a symbol of an era gone by, an exhibit of social mobility or simply, a portent of things to come. But there it is,  always – the prosperous one – the one that has tons of money. The one who made it to the top by sheer and dogged determinism. And lots of roughness, of course. But didn’t I say that people from this class think that literature, the arts and architecture are simply subjects in college? They think they’re in the same league as notebooks –  stuffs that could be bought and just as easily?

Anyway, why am I propounding this? If you have to make a career out of writing, there’s got to be one, up close. By saying you’ve got to have one doesn’t mean that that relative who can afford to drive a car, dine at Megamall on Sunday evenings and look all pat and respectable in their clothes and offices. No, you got to have the real, serious rich. Yes, the kind that has a unit or two in Serendra, drives big, flashy cars and packs the children off to New York or Sydney or Paris, for the summer. That is the kind that you must have. Having one will not only provide you with plenty of materials for your writing, but also give you a better view of society and a better grip on things – things very important when you’re in this kind of business.

So, you suck up to them and you better begin early. In the same way that relatives on the way to the top commence early in scouting for young, nerdy, poor relatives who have the potential to write the annals of the family – the history of their ascent in society.

So, this happens to be you. You’re related to this rich relative directly, one or two degrees away. You go to their house on weekends, your parents ask you to. You knock on their door, the servant lets you in and asks you to wait in the living room. While you’re sitting on the sofa that could probably build two houses in the village, you check out the design of the beams, the texture of the carpet, the patterns and hues of the flower vase on your left. You do all these before lifting the still crispy copy of National Geographic. You wonder if the members of the family really do read the magazine. Of course they don’t, you silly. Then out comes the matriarch of the family, the one your mother used to play piko (hop-step game) with, back in the days.

She greets you like she’s really glad to see you. But you know better than to believe that. You stand up and greet her. She asks you questions about the kamag-anaks in the bukid (relatives in the local village), as though she were really keen to be updated. You do a slow recitation of the Tiyos and the Tiyas (uncles and aunts), the Lolos and the Lolas (grandpas and grandmas), the Totoys and the Inengs (small boys and small girls) and a status update on the mga alagang hayop (animals in the farm). The rich relative nods her head each time. She’s running a calculator in her mind on how much money to send you away with.

The servant comes in with a bottle of juice and a plate of Fita. The matriarch excuses herself, she goes to the kitchen to check if the adobo (famous Filipino dish) is being done just the way she wants it. You gobble some more Fitas and drink half of the juice before leafing through the National Geographic again. Your eyes look up and catch a view of the balustrade. Correction, they’re not balustrades. Balustrades are for rich people in your barrio. This rich relative’s house is in the city. They are called wrought iron. So, you look in that direction, upstairs, hoping to catch a glimpse of your snotty cousins, who, whenever they come out of their rooms, look like they’ve just gotten out of their beds. Don’t worry, your guess is usually and probably right. But there’s no sign of any of them, just the sound of your Tita’s slippers flip-flopping her way back to where you’re seated.

This time, she has her purse with her. She takes a seat before you and asks you about your schooling. You tell her about the forthcoming quizbee and how you are among the three who will represent your school. She nods her big head again. She follows it up with a question about your parents. You give another update in that direction. She counts the money, tells you how much to give certain uncles and aunties, how much for your quiz bee allowance, and how much is for the medication of Lolo and for the vitamins and nganga (betelnut) of your Lola. You count everything and secure them in the pocket your mother stitched especially for that purpose. You stammer your leave to be excused. The rich relative escorts you to the door that reminds you of that movie – the Da Vinci Code.

 

larawan ng isang eksena o footage sa pelikulang the Da vinci Code

Barrio folks who become rich usually build huge Mediterranean homes/ hexus.net

 

Remember, the walk to the door is symbolical. In some ways, that act will bind and carry the two of you through and until that moment – when each or both of you will need to call upon one another’s purpose.

 

Second Part, Hunger Games: Popularizing Dystopia and the Accidental Heroine

larawan ng haring si Oedipus matapos bulagin ang kanyang sarili

Knowing oneself comes at a great cost, so says the classic tragedy/ en.wikipedia.org

The classic drama of yesteryears requires that the hero must have noble birth. He must also have one tragic flaw that will show his humanity and cause his downfall. The hero’s fall must incite pity or fear from the audience, inasmuch as it will result to  the hero’s self-awareness – that of being human. Oddysseus from Homer’s epic poem, Oddysey  and Prince Hamlet from Shakespeare’s Hamlet are the classic examples of tragic heroes. The hero is up on the pedestal at the beginning and descends his way through the story. The climax of the drama is the fall from grace and the realization of his humanity, necessarily uniting the audience and the hero. He is but one of us, he commits errors.

In modern day drama, noble birth has been replaced with ordinariness. This is often termed in Literature as the anti-hero – the average member.  In this paradigm, the reversal of fortune is not caused by the action of the flawed hero but due to circumstances, accidents, that could befall any member of that society. Heroic deed, therefore, is not restricted to a man with a larger- than-life presence, but rather, to anybody. He or she will exhibit his heroic sides as s/he struggles against the hardships and challenges thrown his way.  The audience will identify with the hero, not because of his weakness, but because he does something extraordinary while still remaining human – one of us.

Katniss Everdeen, the character in the movie, Hunger Games, is an example of today’s anti-hero. She volunteered in behalf of her younger sister, Primrose, in Panem’s annual ritual called the Reaping. She has become our accidental heroine, unwillingly thrown into the fray,  to play the game of death – to kill or be killed. She was very ordinary, in many ways. She came from a very poor village, known as District 12, living the close- to- starvation existence, a rather common lot. She provides for her family – a mother who chose to escape from reality after her husband’s tragic and untimely death, and a sister, who is still young and innocent.

The Reaping is a tradition in that country. It is a killing spree with only one survivor  in the end. It is a public spectacle, as the “meet” is televised in the whole kingdom or territory. The drawing of lot at the village level is a much-dreaded point among the citizens, but the actual fight among the delegates in the center is a much-awaited event. It is organized at the highest level, with all the glamour and glitz, as it is followed by every citizen  with zeal. The Reaping calls to mind the ancient tradition among the Aztecs, the rite of offering up virgins to the gods. On the other hand, there is also the gladiators – slaves made to fight among themselves in the arena - for the amusement of the emperor, his friends and family. We are no strangers to people killing each other to wow the roaring crowd; world history has these episodes.

Catharsis or the idea of an organism bleeding itself is also a feature of the classic drama. In the play, Oedipus Rex, Oedipus blinds himself, to pay for his errors and finally see the truth. In Shakespeare’s Othello, Othello commits suicide. In Hunger Games, the Reaping appears to be a catharsis of the system. The battle among the delegates, is Panem’s  annual rite to renew its people’s way of life. What kind of life, we may ask. It is hinted, the unequal kind – the rule-maker versus the rule-follower, the cosmopolitan people versus the village people, the life with the wide economic and technological divides. Another way to put it – the Reaping is a tradition to keep the peace, to keep the lid on constituents who dare to rise in mutiny to upset the system. Successive attempts at rebellion are prevented by bringing bloodshed close to people’s memory – a cruel but necessary reminder – from the point of view of those who run the system.

Thus, Hunger Games seems to be about a system based on coercion of the many by the few. It is a flawed system. It is full of defects and it is suggested in the movie’s first installment, not tenable. Over time, it will be undone. Will the heroine be the cause of the system’s undoing? Will she rise to the occasion?  Will the system give way all too easily?  We do not know yet. The first of the Hunger Games series acquaints us with the background of the contending parties – the way they live their everyday lives, their ties to the people around them, the pecking order or the hierarchy in the  lower and the upper echelons of that society, and, the motivations of the characters – what keeps them going, what do they prize? The movie takes us on tour around the heroine’s community and gives us a glimpse of her laid-back life – a young woman with a love prospect but keener on keeping what remains of her family – together.

larawan ng mga mamamayang pare-pareho na nagmamartsa sa isang lipunang dystopic

Dytstopias often rally against standardization of life and uniformity of the individual/ callitaweasel.wordpress.com

In our earlier discussion, we pointed the difference between Utopias and dystopias. Utopias are big narratives inspiring people on what kind of world humans can achieve if we perceive and work together as humans connected. Utopias usually talk about breaking chains – the chains of selfishness, nearsightedness and discord among people to bring about a better, more prosperous, more harmonious world. On the other hand, while dystopias concede that there is a structured society woven tight by strong and well-set mechanisms and traditions, they talk about undoing it. In this sense, utopias often play the part of critiques, tirades against the system. The dystopian genre in Literature normally features collective starvation, class divide, remote governance and wide technological gap. At the individual level, it poses the questions of superficiality, loneliness and disconnect among society’s members.

In Literature, dystopian works fall under science fiction, a subset of speculative fiction. Thus, the society depicted in the works are always theoretical, fictional or, theatrical. They are usually ultra-modern societies set in the future. Curiously, they are against the standardization of life, the very core of structured and modern living. Thus, many dystopian works discuss the effects of automation, industrialization, uniformity of habits and routines on the people who are but intent to go on with their lives. Using the fictional setting, dystopian works take a snapshot of the individual lost and almost helpless, amidst the new technology and the new forms of enjoyment. They normally expose the system as oppressive and bereft of essential values – sense of family, sense of self and sense of community. The individual trudging along “modern” life alienated, will he or she see her way through the system? Or, will she bring down the system to make way for a new one?

As narratives, Utopia and dystopia have been examined thoroughly in the last few decades both in Literature and the social science fronts. Academicians, historians and leading intellectuals have chastised these forms as being too system bound, system centric and system focused. The time of metanarratives has long been over, some loudly proclaimed. It is now time for people to see civilization and history as fragments and not to be tied down to analyzing power and control. These are interesting topics for those who are into the history of philosophical thoughts. In the meantime, I would recommend the works of Michel Foucault (the French guy, yes) and the writings of Noam Chomsky (the American professor). Foucault’s works on the deindividuation of power deserves a look while Chomsky’s universal grammar is worth studying (if one has the patience and the time, haha). These two personages featured prominently in my college years. ^_^

Chomsky is still around by the way, and is actively involved with the Occupy Wall Street movement. Foucault, however, passed away in 1984, one of the first to die from AIDS. These figures are important in the way that they make well-argued cases against structured society and control in today’s modern world. Chomsky argues fluently for anarchy while Foucault defended sexuality and care of self for the individual. In social science, Foucault’s works have triggered new concepts like the hubs, patches and oasis approaches to development, seeming to make change a much doable thing for the individual. For the big question appears to be – does the individual still matter, in this complicated day and age? Can s/he still introduce change into the system?  Or, will the set-up crush him and his spirit,  just like the members of the society he belongs to – a collective grouping defeated – a long time ago?

As a drama, am afraid that Hunger Games, the movie, is too nuanced. It takes a swipe at several aspects of today’s living: ours. It pokes at the 99%  versus the 1% equation, it mocks the pervasiveness of reality shows in our lives (shows that put premium on the individual’s competitiveness and deaden the viewers’ sense of violence), it questions the use of digital technology (are the gadgets and platforms there to spy and control the vulnerable members ?) and it stirs some issues in the field of  modern science (the moral use of genetic modification and engineering and bio-chemical warfare). On the other hand, I would suppose that all the conflicts mentioned  are mere backdrops of the story that is yet to unfold. Hunger Games is a character-driven narrative and it is to be expected that more film rolls will be employed to show us, the audience, what makes for a modern-day heroine.

larawan ni Katniss Everdeen bilang isang karaniwang babae sa komunidad

Heroes are ordinary human beings who are no strangers to difficult circumstances/ popten.net

Does Katniss have special, inborn qualities that we do not have? Did she have special training that would prepare her for heroic deeds? So far, in the first installment, we are treated with Katniss doing the oldest survival technique – avoidance of danger. She survived the first round not by killing anybody, not by actively engaging in the fray, but by practicing the guerrilla strategy all by her lonesome. The romantic angle among the three – Katniss, Peeta and Gale – makes for a delightful touch for the movie’s distinct young adult viewership. For adults like me, I wish there were dashes more (haha, that’s just me). At any rate, I was talking about dystopia being hard stuff, reluctant heroine warming up to the role and about young people taking interests in systems and heroism in these times, even only at fictional dimension. The movie tackled the question of sacrifice – are today’s youth capable of it?  The fashionable orientation nowadays is to be competitive, to win the game of life –  only for the self.

larawan ng isang poster na nagbibigay-kahulugan sa kabayanihan

One's training and maturity matter / crossfitwatertown.typepad.com

Hunger Games shows that the heroine is ordinary in several ways. And yet, the movie posits that she is also extraordinary. In short, I would presume that not everybody can be a heroine. How and why?  It is their times, their personal circumstances and their location at that point in history that determine the role that they would play in history’s unfolding. In Literature, it is called context. Context explains that heroism is not achieved in a vacuum. The hero or the heroine must have special skills (hunting, trapping and climbing, in the movie) gained from being constantly exposed to danger, must be used to taking risks for others in her regular life and that society must affirm the heroic deed as an extraordinary act of compassion for the other members. Short of this combination, what one has may simply be called competitiveness, or adventurism or the daring of the amateur.

In short, heroes are made, not born. They are prepared to risk dangers and lay down their lives, when necessary. In this sense, while they may look ordinary to you and me, look like you and me, live like you and me, they are also special and exemplary individuals. And they do not come into their roles uninitiated. One might even say, they spent their lives preparing for it, not knowing that one day they would be commended for having performed an altruistic act. For them, the situation maybe precarious and they are vulnerable like any other, could even die, but it is a matter of duty for them to step in and be responsible for others. In this sense, heroes and heroines, fictional or not, do not come in as accidents. They come from a different cast, really feel life a bit more and see the need to merge their own with others in difficult circumstances. For only in so doing, could they realize and live up to the demands of that inner hunger. ***

 

larawan ng isang taong tumatalon ng mataas

Are ordinary human beings capable of heroic acts? Yes, if they are prepared to take the risks for others/ idiotsandgenious.blogspot.com

 

Hunger Games: Popularizing Dystopia and the Accidental Heroine

larawan ng bidang babae sa pelikulang Hunger Games

Hmmn, isn't hunting for your food a kinky idea in these times of processed foods?/ telegraph.co.uk

 

I recently saw one of my nieces reading the book, Hunger Games. That was the third time I saw her read – the first was Harry Potter and the second was, you guessed right, Twilight. On the other hand, I know several people, a bit older than my niece, who are now reading 1984 or Brave New World. Hunger Games,  the movie, set them into reading trips. The said film talks about dystopia or a system gone wrong, also the subject matter of the two novels mentioned.

Dystopia, as a concept, is oftentimes huge and deep. Unless one is an avid reader of science fictions, the concept of a flawed system isn’t always that easy to understand or to digest. For young people, especially. I suppose that to think in terms of systems, particularly social systems, one has to do a lot of abstract thinking – accepting premises, ingesting milieus and familiarizing oneself with the literary nuances and details. I guess the average young adult does not usually bother with such. Certainly, there are far more interesting things to deal with.

The fact that Hunger Games did just that to many young people deserves praise. While one can argue that much of their resolve to read may have something to do with the hype or the desire to conform to peers, still, I give due points to works that are able to bring difficult concepts into the mainstream. To engage the youth to venture further, to learn a little more about the film’s subject, even as it seems to be” hardcore” stuff. Other popular films only set them off to buy souvenir shirts or memorabilia. Hunger Games directed them to read. That isn’t exactly a raw deal.

Before we go further, let me mention a bit about Utupia, the opposite of dystopia. It’s about social systems working at their best, if not perfectly. The concept is not really new to us. The idea of the paradise that was lost to Adam and Eve, belongs to that. So was the Republic of Plato. And yes, Thomas Moore’s Utopia, the rendition of the futuristic, perfect society. Still not to be forgotten was Karl Marx’s communist society. These works of literature outline for the reader – the world –  the best that human civilization can achieve with a good measure of social engineering.

And even as we may question the premises of these thinkers or philosophers, their ideological frameworks, it should be noted that not all authors have gone through such effort – to envision and to paint the ideal world in a programmatic way, for the humankind. In Literature, those social models are called metanarratives or an all-embracing sytem of written thoughts. Metanarratives have the effect of mobilizing people – governments, movements and organizations –  making them act upon the philosophies forwarded therein, working towards the achievement of the visions  in the narratives. In short, carefully argued metanarratives often inspire people en masse.

On the other hand, dystopia as a narrative, poses a different perspective. It often  questions the prevailing system and the values holding the system intact. It points out the defects of the set-up and endeavors to show the cracks, the weaknesses and what goes on in the inner sanctum of the rule makers of the system. Oftentimes, the style used by the dystopia authors is contrasting the small citizen, the ordinary member, against the all-powerful, seemingly infallible, authorities. Curiously, one common feature of dystopia creations is the remoteness of the central government – the decision-makers – in relation to its territory and people.

Another latent feature of dystopia, as typified in Hunger Games, is the counterposing of modernity and backwardness. Dystopias call the attention of the reader or the viewer, as to the level of civilization humankind has so far attained. In the movie, this is accomplished by showing the main characters living in a pre-industrial mode, thriving and barely surviving through hunting and gathering, with their leisure hours spent strolling and looking over the verdant prairie. Contrast this with the cosmopolitan, sanitized center where foods are abundant, technology is state-of- the-art and leisure could be had in an instant and at its most stylish.

On one hand, there is the advanced segment – composed of those who enjoy the fruits of society’s labor and call the shots over the lives of ordinary citizens. On the other extreme, there is the lagging sector – comprised by those who toil and break their backs and yet, have been starkly left behind. Small, obscure lives suddenly brought to the fore by necessary rituals – to enforce society’s traditions. Dystopias often  point out the disparities in the everyday conduct of lives before zooming in to that one moment – when the two far ends would meet and clash – to test the strength of the system and the values that the opposing poles hold dear. And the outcome of that encounter will decide whether the system stays. Or, not… (to be continued) ~~~

 

roads and time unencumbered

larawan ng highway sa Kamaynilaan na walang gaanong trapiko

Days when the streets in Metro Manila are deserted are few and far between/ mayniladailyphoto.blogspot.com

 

Cruisin’ the highways during the Lenten season has become a favorite activity of mine over the years. On those days, the big city looks deserted – most establishments are taking time off, very few people on the streets and suddenly, one notices that four-lane roads are just that – four-laned – after all. (On ordinary days, cars are parked on either sides of the road – indefinitely. The moving vehicles had to squeeze through.) No banks open, restaurants hang their CLOSED signs and only a few pedestrians dare to walk on the baking concretes. It’s summer, all right.

The vendors that usually line up most avenues have also taken their holidays – doing the laundry perhaps, resting with their families at home, maybe or most likely, catching up on the Lenten specials. The city streets and the side streets all get to take their breather. A couple of souls  grace the streets and the pavements – on errands or on their way home. One or two private cars would zoom past us. Even the traffic lights look desolate, the pair of eyes looking at them markedly lessened. How many million city-residents went back to the province to catch up with their relatives? How many opted for a weekend get-away?

A Jazon Mraz with Raul Midon song was playing on the car CD.  I like Midon, he’s got a manly, soothing voice, one of the few artists I immediately liked upon hearing for the first time. My sister and I are not exactly in sync’d when it comes to music. She has this  you-must-put-up-with-it-am-the-driver-i-get-to-select-what’s-to-be-played songs (one can only choose among Mraz’s songs and most of them are lazy). I allay her fears, often. I tell her that I happen to like Mraz’s  Details in the Fabric. To which she usually retorts, “only because James Morrison is in it.” Haha, there’s some truth there, actually. She drove quieter than usual, her customary road rage temporarily tucked away, I don’t know if in observance of the Christian holiday.  We were on our way to the province, before her scheduled out of town Easter trip. ~~~

 

We did not visit the siblings and the relatives in our native village. We just did the rounds of relatives in the city in our province, only two sets of nieces and nephews actually. Then, we swung to the public cemetery in town to update our mother on who among her grandchildren graduated. We told her that her eldest son’s kids finished with honors – the grandson will now be going to college and the little one, the granddaughter (who’s not so little anymore) is a valedictorian. Afterwards, we took photographs of the sky – the moon basking in its full glory – with crosses atop the tombs serving as picture frames. It was fun though uneventful, unhurried and unencumbered in many ways. The three healthy teenagers with us had a good time – in the cemetery. ~~~

 

It’s still holidays and I am very much infected with the laziness of the surroundings. At any rate, let me share with you the music I’ve been listening to, in the past month  ~~~

 

Elend – dark and gothic indeed.

 

In Gowan Ring – very poetic, sounds folksy somehow.

 

Elisa – talented girl, sings of tough love.

 

Happy Easter, people! Many happy returns of the week…  :)

 

a silly, simple poem

larawan ng pabalat ng aklat uko sa lumang panahon

Good, old days are long gone/ sodahead.com

 

Not the dog days and the forgotten ways

Not the highways and byways, of dark forays

Not the butts and ends, in creaky stairways

Not the jetsam and flotsam of the good, old days.

 

 

Not the pinching worries, where the future lays

The world’s no constant, nothing and no one stays?

Let me then sing to you, of gladness and li’l sways

Dear, oh, dear, I’ll tell you ‘bout now, today!  :)