My feet pressed the blades of grass closer to the earth with each step. The sweet smell of pine and wildflowers filled my lungs. I felt the coolness of the damp breeze as it blew past me, making me feel oddly lighter. I was high up in the city of Baguio, where the altitude gives a certain liberation that I do not feel in the streets of Manila. I tilted my head upwards as I tried to catch more of that wind, and a tickling sensation of warmth came to my cheeks as it was touched by the sunlight. I felt my whole being lift at the serenity of that moment. It felt as though time were standing as still as I was. Seconds, which turned to minutes that felt like hours, past. I had to wake up from this daze, but before I pulled myself back to reality, I made a silent prayer to God. I said, "Thank You for giving me a taste of Heaven on Earth."
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
It's a Dog's Life..kinda
The dog--Man's best friend. We have heard the phrase time and time again, and have reached a point where we just believe the saying, no questions asked. But what if we do ask the question? I mean, how could an animal be your best friend? Would it give you good advice when you need it? Would it care for you when your sick? Would it tell you that it loves you in a special way? If a dog could not do these, then how could it be anything like a friend?
To find the answer to such questions, I took the time to actually observe the specimen. I watched my dog. I looked at our seven month old golden retriever, who seemed to be growing bigger and bigger each day. I tried to see how she reacted, how she could possibly understand. What does she do? What could she do for me to believe that she is "best-friend-material"?
I watched how she walked around the house like she owned the place. Surveying every corner, leaving no surface untouched or no spot on the floor unsniffed. I watched how she followed all of my brother's commands in the hopes of getting a treat for it. I watched how her ears flopped, fur bounced and tail wagged as she ran towards me with the toy she had just retrieved in her mouth. I watched and I noticed. I noticed how she always seemed to be smiling at me. I noticed how she always seemed to be waiting at the door when I arrived back from school. I noticed how she always seemed to follow me from the buffet to the dinner table. All these things, I watched and noticed, then I realized.
It is not in that the dog intentionally gives me back some kind of emotional response that it becomes a best friend. It is in the innocence and playfulness of her character that makes me appreciate the little joys of life. They say "It's a dog's life" like its a bad thing, but that is not how I see it. My dog shows me how gleeful life can be. And these are the traits that I wish to see the most, above all, in a friendship, are they not? My best friend is that person who I enjoy being around because s/he exudes happiness. The simple presence of that person already lifts my spirits and makes me think of only good things. Consequently, the role of best friend, the role of bringer-of-life-to-life can be satisfied by virtually anyone who does that for me. It could be a family member, my neighbor, a stranger, or even my dog. Friends make life interesting, so I just have to figure out who, or what, my friends are. As it follows, I guess the idea of my dog being my best friend is not too far-fetched now, is it?
To find the answer to such questions, I took the time to actually observe the specimen. I watched my dog. I looked at our seven month old golden retriever, who seemed to be growing bigger and bigger each day. I tried to see how she reacted, how she could possibly understand. What does she do? What could she do for me to believe that she is "best-friend-material"?
I watched how she walked around the house like she owned the place. Surveying every corner, leaving no surface untouched or no spot on the floor unsniffed. I watched how she followed all of my brother's commands in the hopes of getting a treat for it. I watched how her ears flopped, fur bounced and tail wagged as she ran towards me with the toy she had just retrieved in her mouth. I watched and I noticed. I noticed how she always seemed to be smiling at me. I noticed how she always seemed to be waiting at the door when I arrived back from school. I noticed how she always seemed to follow me from the buffet to the dinner table. All these things, I watched and noticed, then I realized.
It is not in that the dog intentionally gives me back some kind of emotional response that it becomes a best friend. It is in the innocence and playfulness of her character that makes me appreciate the little joys of life. They say "It's a dog's life" like its a bad thing, but that is not how I see it. My dog shows me how gleeful life can be. And these are the traits that I wish to see the most, above all, in a friendship, are they not? My best friend is that person who I enjoy being around because s/he exudes happiness. The simple presence of that person already lifts my spirits and makes me think of only good things. Consequently, the role of best friend, the role of bringer-of-life-to-life can be satisfied by virtually anyone who does that for me. It could be a family member, my neighbor, a stranger, or even my dog. Friends make life interesting, so I just have to figure out who, or what, my friends are. As it follows, I guess the idea of my dog being my best friend is not too far-fetched now, is it?
Monday, January 16, 2012
Reaction: The Death of the Moth -- Virginia Woolf
This essay talks of the time Woolf watched a moth die. For many, this seems like a very irrelevant event, not even worth repeating to a friend who might listen, much more write about for many more to read. However, when I read this essay, I knew that the author was trying to get a much bigger message across and this message most definitely came across to me.
The author described the event. She saw a moth flying in the daylight, which was not a common thing for moths, and she saw it fall. She watched as this little moth, tried and tried again to get up and fly again. She kept watching and it kept falling, and the author described the event like all was lost for this moth. Then suddenly, the moth, in a final attempt, was able to get off its back, it succeeded! But then, it continued to die.
I think that my eyes were opened by the death of this little moth as the author's eyes were, hence her point for writing out this observation she had made. For me, this moth can be compared to any one of us. We could be small beings which are mostly left unnoticed by the rest of the universe, and sometimes left alone by even our own peers. However, despite how small and insignificant we may be to others, it does not mean that the struggles we face ourselves are invaluable. I think the author wanted to emphasize this. That all struggles, big or small, are worth something, and most especially worth our best efforts. The poor little moth in the story fought to the death to get back up, and even if we live our entire lives never having to face a situation as crucial as life or death literally, we should face each challenge as if it were so.
The author described the event. She saw a moth flying in the daylight, which was not a common thing for moths, and she saw it fall. She watched as this little moth, tried and tried again to get up and fly again. She kept watching and it kept falling, and the author described the event like all was lost for this moth. Then suddenly, the moth, in a final attempt, was able to get off its back, it succeeded! But then, it continued to die.
I think that my eyes were opened by the death of this little moth as the author's eyes were, hence her point for writing out this observation she had made. For me, this moth can be compared to any one of us. We could be small beings which are mostly left unnoticed by the rest of the universe, and sometimes left alone by even our own peers. However, despite how small and insignificant we may be to others, it does not mean that the struggles we face ourselves are invaluable. I think the author wanted to emphasize this. That all struggles, big or small, are worth something, and most especially worth our best efforts. The poor little moth in the story fought to the death to get back up, and even if we live our entire lives never having to face a situation as crucial as life or death literally, we should face each challenge as if it were so.
Honestly, I think that after reading this essay, some may feel like the moth, who tried its best to get up but still died in the end, proved that failure is possible even with our best efforts. This is not what I took from it though. I do not think that this moth failed because it died. If anything, it left more of an impact with its death. The author may not have written the essay if she had watched the moth try and try until it succeeded. We have all heard that story before, and many may already find happy endings cliche.
But this story, the story of that insect, which no one really cared for, who was defeated only by death and not by fear of failure, is the kind of story which inspires one to seek triumph.
But this story, the story of that insect, which no one really cared for, who was defeated only by death and not by fear of failure, is the kind of story which inspires one to seek triumph.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Reaction: Midsummer -- Manuel Arguilla
This short piece talks of the meeting of these two characters referred to in the story as Ading and Manong. Manong, a tall and strong man travelling with his bull and cart, came across Ading, a small slender young woman, while she was on her way to getting water from a well.
Both of them went to the well, not acknowledging each other. However, this did not mean that they were not keenly observing one another. The story went on with Manong offering his meal to Ading, Ading refusing then accidentally drenching the food manong had offered, then Ading leading Manong to her home so that he and his bull could hide from the heat the sun was giving off that afternoon.
I actually found this piece very enjoyable to read. For one thing, the author was very descriptive in his writing. This really helped me get a sense of the environment and what the characters looked like. Another reason I enjoyed reading this piece is that the author truly made the story seem to unfold in front of your eyes. Though it was a very short and simple story, I coulnd't help feeling a certain degree of suspense while reading it. In the five pages of the story, I could already feel a connection with the characters. So in conclusion, I believe that what made the story interesting was the exemplary writing skills of the author, who was able to make a simple encounter of two strangers so full of meaning and emotion.
Both of them went to the well, not acknowledging each other. However, this did not mean that they were not keenly observing one another. The story went on with Manong offering his meal to Ading, Ading refusing then accidentally drenching the food manong had offered, then Ading leading Manong to her home so that he and his bull could hide from the heat the sun was giving off that afternoon.
I actually found this piece very enjoyable to read. For one thing, the author was very descriptive in his writing. This really helped me get a sense of the environment and what the characters looked like. Another reason I enjoyed reading this piece is that the author truly made the story seem to unfold in front of your eyes. Though it was a very short and simple story, I coulnd't help feeling a certain degree of suspense while reading it. In the five pages of the story, I could already feel a connection with the characters. So in conclusion, I believe that what made the story interesting was the exemplary writing skills of the author, who was able to make a simple encounter of two strangers so full of meaning and emotion.
Reaction: The Woman-Warrior
In this piece, the speaker, who is also the author, is a Chinese girl who resided in the US. The author talks of how she was mistreated by her family and by her bosses.
She talked about how her family seemed to put little value to her because she was a girl and this was the view of the Chinese towards daughters. Growing up, she believed that being a naughty child, or a bad girl, made her more of a boy. She refused to act the way the Chinese believed a girl should act-- obedient and not tough at all. She was also a victim of racism at times at work. Towards her bosses, she would rather lose her job than follow orders that would make her go against her better judgment. What Kingston, the speaker, would do was compare herself to the strong, non-stereotypical woman, the woman-warrior. Kingston wanted to be seen as a strong and independent woman.
I would agree that every woman wants to be seen as strong and independent, so I understand where Kingston is coming from. The difference is that Kingston's case is much more extreme than mine because of the Chinese culture. She did, however, mention that the Chinese do also think that girls are necessary. Of course they would think this, after all, you cannot have sons without mothers, right? But when I read this part of the piece, I felt like I saw that Kingston, though she was making it seem like she did not care that her family, or even her country, treated her so unjustly, did want to feel accepted. Therefore, even though she seemed to be fighting with a "me-against-the-world" attitude, because she was a woman and Chinese, she always knew that she was still loved by her family and honored by her country, though they would never admit this.
She talked about how her family seemed to put little value to her because she was a girl and this was the view of the Chinese towards daughters. Growing up, she believed that being a naughty child, or a bad girl, made her more of a boy. She refused to act the way the Chinese believed a girl should act-- obedient and not tough at all. She was also a victim of racism at times at work. Towards her bosses, she would rather lose her job than follow orders that would make her go against her better judgment. What Kingston, the speaker, would do was compare herself to the strong, non-stereotypical woman, the woman-warrior. Kingston wanted to be seen as a strong and independent woman.
I would agree that every woman wants to be seen as strong and independent, so I understand where Kingston is coming from. The difference is that Kingston's case is much more extreme than mine because of the Chinese culture. She did, however, mention that the Chinese do also think that girls are necessary. Of course they would think this, after all, you cannot have sons without mothers, right? But when I read this part of the piece, I felt like I saw that Kingston, though she was making it seem like she did not care that her family, or even her country, treated her so unjustly, did want to feel accepted. Therefore, even though she seemed to be fighting with a "me-against-the-world" attitude, because she was a woman and Chinese, she always knew that she was still loved by her family and honored by her country, though they would never admit this.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Reaction: Shooting an Elephant -- George Orwell
I believe that Orwell, the author, wanted to show the other side to imperialism with this story. Imperialism is about domination and subordination. In the story, the officer, being a representation of British authority in that Burmese town, is supposed to be the dominant force. But the way the story goes, it seems like his own better judgment was overpowered by the supposedly subordinate Burmese people, so as to keep his own pride. Therefore it is almost as if to maintain dominance he had to subordinate to the inferior. This is extremely ironic, and this irony is probably what Orwell aimed to expose in this story. This is his way of saying that, in imperialism, no one wins, and all become inferior to the system.
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