By hand

I took up cursive writing again. You should, too, before it becomes a lost art.

Teachers

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1961) is a novel about a teacher whose influence would shape the lives of her students during the 1930's. Miss Jean Brodie is quite a character in Marcia Blaine School for Girls, a prestigious school in Edinburgh, because of her unconventional teaching methods.

Her students would be known throughout the youth as Brodie's lot.  Monica is smart but has anger issues. Rose is "famous for sex." Eunice is athletic. Sandy is insightful. Jenny is pretty. And Mary is dumb. Each character has her own peculiarities.

Instead of strictly adhering to hour-long lectures, Miss Brodie would tell her love stories, her trips to Italy, and her issues with the school administration. Education, according to her, is guiding the students to think for themselves.

The Headmistress who promulgates educational orthodoxy scorns her. If she wishes to teach "progressive" ideas, said Miss Mackay, she should work in a public school. But Miss Brodie would hear nothing of this.

Almost a spinster, Miss Brodie falls in love with a music teacher and an arts teacher. At this point, in the year 1931, her students are beginning to learn about sex. Everything suddenly has a sexual contest, and their naive conversations are both innocent and funny.

Muriel Spark does not write linearly. In one part, Sandy is already speaking as a nun. Or Mary has been killed in a fire. But the transitions are fluid. Time Magazine refers to the author's descriptions as stinging. In one episode, the Scottish teachers are described as saying good morning "with predestination in their smiles." Yes, there are many funny allusions to Calvinism here.

The books is short. I almost finished it in one night. All in all, the novel reminded me of my teachers who, like Miss Brodie, affected me in more ways that I could imagine.

Hyperion

Hyperion is among the best scifi novels I've read to date, not that I've read a lot of books in that genre.

Two weeks ago, I scrounged National Bookstore at Robinson's Place Manila for cheap books. I didn't know a thing about Dan Simmons, but I liked the cover—white with black lines arranged radially—and I got a discount: Php 213. I had no hesitations buying it.

The plot is rather complex. A huge war, an Armageddon of sorts, is about to errupt: mankind versus the Ousters. The only hope of deliverance is the pilgrimage of seven people to the planet Hyperion, home of the Time Bombs and the deadly, god-like creature called the Shrike.

The Old Earth has been destroyed, and humans now live in different planets, all under a reigning empire called the Hegemony.  The Hegemony wants to incorporate all planets into the WorldWeb at all cost. Hyperion is of particular importance because it's the only planet that confounds the predictive technologies of the Hegemony's TechnoCore. The Ousters, geneticaly-altered humans living outside the reins of the Hegemony, want to invade Hyperion, and this war serves as the backdrop of the stories of the pilgrims to the Shrike.

When you think of it, Hyperion, the first of the Hyperion Cantos trilogy, is a compilation of the the stories of each pilgrim. On the way to the Tombs, they take turns to reveal the underlying reasons for their joining the Pilgrimage, something that could potentially kill them. The stories are:

• The Man Who Cried God (Lenard Hoyt, the priest)
• The War Loves (Fedmahn Kassad, the soldier)
• Hyperion Cantos (Martin Silenus, the poet)
• The River Lethe's Taste is Bitter (Sol Weintraub, the scholar)
• The Long Goodbye (Brawne Lamia, the detective)
• Remembering Siri (The Consul)
  

The stories are unique in themselves, giving each character depth and piecing together the puzzle. Together, however, these accounts constitute a beautiful whole.

My favorite is that of Martin Silenus who wants to come back to Hyperion to finish his writing. It's one of the funniest. At one point, he gets amnesia, and all he remembers are ten cuss words. It's also very insightful. He says, ". . . As I dredged bottom scum from the slop canals, under the red gaze of the Vega Primo or crawled on hands and knees through stalactites and stalagmites of redbreather bacteria in the station's labyrinthine lungpipes, I became a poet. All I lacked were the words."

To budding writer, the character Silenus says, "Belief in one's identity as a poet or writer prior to the acid test of publication is as naive and harmless as the youthful belief in one's immorality. . . and the inevitable disillusionment is just as painful."

It took me a while to get used to the terminologies, but I appreciated Dan Simmons' creative use of language—the descriptions are rich, the flow of thought is fluid, and the subplots are unique.

My presidential candidate

May 2010 is historical in many respects. The country will, for the first time, experience automated elections—assuming, of course, that the polls don't get cancelled in the next few months. On a more personal note, it's also my first time to vote. Like most people my age, I'm filled with a sense of urgency to know as much about the candidates as I could, their platforms first before their personalities.

So much is at stake. Times are tough, and they get tougher by the minute. Now, more than ever, this country needs good leaders, people with integrity, honesty, sense of duty, and love for the Filipino. We need people who are both competent and charismatic, idealistic but never out-of-touch with reality, tactical but not scheming.

Even before the filing of candidacy, we've already seen promotional videos of presidential wannabes. These ads feature smiling faces that seem to carry a message of hope to the despairing people, appealing primarily to the emotions rather than the intellect. A shame, really, because the person who looks and sounds the best in television isn't always the one cut out to make the toughest decisions for this nation.

Which is why I welcome television networks that feature presidential debates, avenues where the electorate can hear the candidates speak their minds. A win-win situation, if you ask me, both for the candidates and the voting public. If the candidate deserves a vote, it will naturally emanate from him—and the people will know. I don't like the idea of having someone speak for you. If you're a candidate and you can't voice out your opinion, you seriously need to think about quitting. There has got to be a way to institutionalize these debates by law. Require everyone to attend; disqualify those who can't.

I'm curious now to find out what our presidential aspirants think of certain issues. Questions about the Reproductive Health Bill have already been thrown at them, and I'm thrilled to know that more and more people are forming their choices based on the candidates' answers to these critical issues. But there are other pressing concerns.

I'd like to know more about their stand on health in general. I admit that my curiosity stems from my being a medical student, but I don't see any reason why an ordinary person wouldn't care about this issue which practically concerns everyone. I'm voting for someone who has concrete, achievable goals in promoting health. I'm voting for someone who believes that health is a right, not a privilege. I'm voting for someone who is committed to the Alma Ata Declaration of Universal Primary Health Care which advocates health for all. I'm voting for someone who is determined to allocate a higher health budget.

There are other issues we can't overlook, like corruption and abuse of power. But that deserves a separate entry altogether.

I had all the time in the world this afternoon

So I got bored. For December, I've already made two headers, the first one I took down; the second I only finished this afternoon. Out of impulse, as usual.

Here's the old header:

And here's the new one:

The taglines are derived from Your Steadfast Love (Don Moen), a song we've been singing in church lately, something that reminds me of God's faithfulness.

Let me talk about the second header now because I had a great time with it:

—I experimented with GIMP brushes; installation was breezy. Here I used the excellent vector plant foliage brushes of redheadstock, which can be downloaded for free.

—For the typography, I used Operating Instructions which is also free.

—I'm still sticking to the old color scheme (red and green). I find the combination rather refreshing.

Oh, and didn't I tell you? I've got no more exams until after Christmas break, which means more time to finish my non-academic reading.

Snippets of TRP World performances

As soon as people uploaded the videos in Youtube, I couldn't restrain myself from watching the performances again and again. I don't think it's vanity but more of unbelief. I mean, how did the class pull these off: the strenuous after-class choir practices plus the rigorous dance rehearsals, on top of looming exams?

The first year class always does the opening number. Don't even try to look for me in the video because I didn't dance. I don't dance. But I am just so proud of my classmates who did. They had to sacrifice a lot to prepare for this, but their efforts really paid off.



Here's our own choir performance. We practically occupied the entire stage, all 159 of us. And I can't keep telling people how Jana Mier looks so graceful in conducting—it just comes naturally, like she was born with the skill. The song is called Isang Lagda, written by Ryan Magtibay and arranged by Anne Barraquio.



We didn't win in the choir competition; Class 2012 did, with their song, "Huling Awit." I had the chills hearing them live, especially with the line, "Tatlong taon na lang, doktor na rin tayo . . . "



I'll link to more videos if they become available. For now, enjoy.

Walang katapat

The imagery was almost ironic: men were in a huddle, piecing together various theatrical costumes, pouring glitters onto fabric surfaces coated with glue, and—this is where it gets weirder—enjoying their time, like they were watching an NBA finals game.

I needed to see that scene to make me realize how we've all labored hard—and some labored harder—for this year's Tao Rin Pala. If you have time, do visit Fleur De Lis Auditorium at St. Paul University, right across the street facing the UP College of Medicine. Go there early, around 6:30 5 pm, so you can reserve your seats. Admission is free.

Cheer for Class 2014, too. Our venerable class president Pito shouts, "Labing-apat," after which the entire crowd says, "Walang katapat!" Everyone's so excited I highly doubt if anyone will pay as much attention to the lectures today.

...

Class 2012 won! Their rendition of "Huling Awit" was awesome. It was a sad but hopeful song, dotted with farewells and thanks to their parents, mentors, and patients.

We didn't do so badly either. A classmate got a text from the Med Choir conductor who told her ours was the best performance of a freshman choir he has seen. Coming from someone who has been to countless TRPs, I guess that's something. Congrats, 2014.

Blogging saves you words

I realize I don't have to tell stories from the very beginning because my friends have been reading all about them in the blog.

Why I like Tim Challies

One reason is that he motivates me to read more:

I receive quite a few questions from people asking “How do you read so much?” My answer is always the same: I make the time. I use small bits of time when I have them (sitting in the barber shop, waiting for doctor’s appointments, and so on) and am deliberate about making time almost every day. I consider reading an invaluable part of my life and faith and encourage others to make time for it as well. Anyone can find time to read even just a couple of books a year. Choose your books wisely, make the time to read them, and you will see what a blessing reading can be.

December na

December almost always ushers a fun-filled end to the ending year. The air is crisp, the music is happy, and everyone is excited to go back to their families for the Christmas celebrations.

There are so many things in tow this December.

My friend, Paul Velasco, is coming back from New Zealand. He's among my closest friends, having lived in the same dorm where I stayed since our college freshman year. After more than a year, I'm seeing him again. He had better be ready to speak to me with a strong accent. His Facebook picture reveals that he lost weight—a lot of it—but whether it was Photoshopped for slimming effect, I shall confirm when I meet him in the flesh.

In the UP College of Medicine, we're all looking forward to the TRP (Tao Rin Pala), the biggest celebration in the college. I keep hoping we're going to do well in the choir competition, but I'm sure the batches ahead of us will do the same, too. Last night, I helped out prepare the props for the stage, as part of my application for the UP MSS (Medical Students Society). The org reminds me of MBBS: the application process is tedious (friends will argue that it's not), but the people are great.

Our church's family day is two weeks from now. It will be an opportunity to fellowship with the brethren. I'm excited to play the games, to recall the past memory verses (there will be a special prize!), and to simply be amazed at God's faithfulness to Higher Rock.

I'm going home, too, on December 19, right after the Diliman Lantern Parade. There's only one exam left before the official vacation. It's times like these when I hope that every month is December month.

A reminder for those who seek to run in 2010

You can do a lot more good outside of public office than being in it. The only difference is the pay—legitimate or otherwise. And, I almost forgot, the chance to have your photo printed on poorly-designed tarpaulins.

Pushcarts

I had heard about Efren Peñaflorida way before his name became a topic of prime time news shows. I received an email from a friend, encouraging everyone to support this Pinoy's bid to become the CNN Hero of the Year. So I did what I was told: I headed straight to the website, looked for his name, and clicked "vote."

Weeks after that, he was there on-stage, carrying a wooden trophy with his name carved on it, saying to the entire world, "You are the change that you dream, as I am the change that I dream, and collectively, we are the change that this world needs to be.”

I only knew him through the online news I had read over the net, but yesterday was the first time I actually heard him speak. He was interviewed by Kris Aquino on the Buzz. Like an ordinary non-showbiz man, untrained in speaking in front of the cameras, Efren explained what his organization, Dynamic Teen Co. (DTC), is doing. (The Inquirer also offers a brief background about this man.) His shyness was his charm.

The man used a pushcart that carried books and blackboards to teach kids on-the-spot. Only someone who understands the real value of education can do that. What's encouraging is that his organization has expanded to accommodate 2000 volunteers—that means 2000 volunteers who share his own vision—and more will be added, thanks to the media exposure he's been getting.

I must confess that I had voted for him primarily because he was a Filipino—and we know how we're unbeatable in these online voting campaigns—although I did like what he was doing when I read about it. But now Efren stands as a reminder, especially to the young, that education is important; it is worth the time and the sacrifice. After all, not everyone gets to study inside a classroom. As we have seen these past days, some kids only learn through pushcarts on the streets.

You did us proud, Efren. 

Configure Sun Cellular Wireless Broadband in Linux Ubuntu

My brother has recently subscribed to Sun Broadband Wireless. He plugs the USB stick to his Mac (it works in PC, too), waits for the signal to stabilize, and off he goes to read his email. I once asked the kind people at Sun if the stick works for Linux, and they said it won't. But I desperately needed internet in my laptop which runs on Ubuntu Linux Karmic Koala 9.10.

I searched for tutorials on installing this stick to Linux, and I came upon this site, detailing in layman's terms how to configure the wireless connection in ten easy steps. It doesn't take a nerd to understand—you simply need to change the APN from "minternet" to "fbband." And it works.

Mentor

One thing our administrators like to brag about is how different our school's curriculum is. For one—and this is the part I like best—all of us are assigned to mentors, usually a husband-wife pair, both of whom are graduates of UP College of Medicine. These mentors will meet with us occasionally to check up on how we're doing. They will help us adjust to the rigors of med school, making sure we don't commit suicide because of failed exams. And these meetings will happen for the rest of our medical education.

I'm in a mentoring group myself. Ours is a noisy batch. Ching is the only woman; the rest have testicles. Our mentors are Dr. Rodney and Belen Dofitas. So far, we've only met Ma'am Belen, but we look forward to seeing the husband soon.

Our meetings consist of small talks where Ma'am Belen asks us how we're faring in the exams, if we're having any problems at all. Usually these happen over a free meal, in some restaurant where we stuff ourselves with anything we can lay our hands on. She's kind in giving advice, tips, and stories—especially about how med school was like then during her time.

Tonight we had pizza and ice cream at Robinson's Place. All of us were there, save for Ching who had to attend to a serious matter. The timing couldn't have been more perfect: we had no exams to think of, and there are no classes tomorrow.

The conversation shifted to working abroad. Dalvie brought up the fact that almost half of each graduating class in Medicine goes to work in the States. Ma'am said that is always an option, but, for her part, she never felt the urge to go abroad. Then she gave us wise counsel: true, the pay outside is plentiful, but we must weigh the cost of the leaving. No family support, and it's harder to raise a family there.

There were many things we covered, like dealing with professors whose lectures disagree with the book, having a good time, and preparing for exams. It's different, I guess, when the advice comes from someone who's been there, done that.

I'm excited to see what happens next. Soon enough, we might do videoke or go to Tagaytay. But regardless of where we'll go, talking to Dr. Dofitas is always a breath of fresh air.

(A)symmetry

Central District, Quezon City

I promised

Taking a break from studying, I went outside with a camera. I noticed this bakery near my brother's apartment, and I thought the neat arrangement of the bread in the glass shelves was of photographic interest. I asked the vendor, this man on the photo, if I could take a shot. He then asked me where I'd be posting the picture. I promised I'd post it in the internet. I doubt it if he'd ever find this photo of himself, proudly displaying loaves of bread wrapped in plastic, but by any chance he does—Hi, Manong!

Just because we're 22 years old

I can't believe my friends—who are of the same age group as I am—now belong to the club for the elderly.

I'll be home for Christmas

Yes, yes, it's probably too early for this, but I suddenly got giddy after calling my father minutes ago. He was alone in the house, lulling himself to sleep, waiting for my mother who still had patients in the clinic. I told him of the incoming exam, the choir contest, and the usual drink-your-milk matters.*

"You're really enjoying it there, huh?" he asked.

"Very much," I said, "but it gets the better of me sometimes."

"Don't worry; it won't be too long become you come home for Christmas."

What can I say? Can't wait.

Slave

Whenever I'd read Paul's letters, I would imagine how he must have looked or sounded like. He practically had everything—a great education, a lofty status in society, and a comfortable wealth—before he knew Christ. But his world turned around during that episode on the road to Damascus where Jesus spoke to him.

Eventually, Paul began telling others about the great news of salvation, renouncing all worldly things, calling them rubbish (Philippians 3:8) compared to the surpassing knowledge of knowing the Lord. He became a major character in the New Testament, having written most of the books contained therein.

In introducing himself to the Romans, he called himself a slave of Christ (Romans 1:1). In those days, being called a slave was an insult, but Paul considered slavery to Christ true freedom and a great privilege. Jesus, after all, meant the world for him.

While Pastor Oscar Villa was sharing these things in church this morning, he was also asking us to examine ourselves if we have the same heart as Paul had. And now, as I'm meditating what I learned during that preaching, I ask myself if I have that Christ-is-my-master mentality, if my life is completely subject to His lordship.

Thank You, Lord, for these reminders.

Paraphernalia

Pencils are my favorite writing materials and given a choice, I'd pick a Mongol over a cheap ball-point pen. Normally, though, I'd use a Pilot G-Tech Pen (black or blue, but more of blue) whose stroke must not be less than 0.4 mm, reserving my pencil for sketching arterial branches or jotting down notes on the transcriptions.

I bought this Parker mechanical pencil last June. It's shiny, sleek, and ergonomic. It feels good to hold, and seeing personalized engraving of my name on its metal surface gives me a warm feeling. It's rather pricey for a pencil, but I console myself by thinking of it as an investment for the future.  



Which is not to say I don't use normal pencil anymore. I still do. While its strokes are more varied and harder to control (my letters really look fat sometimes), it gives me a false feeling of being smart. Like: I'm writing a really long equation that could alter the course of world history, when all along I'm just caricaturing the sleeping classmate beside me.



What do you use for writing?