A Journey to a No Man's Land

Hello world!
I'm back!

...from Singapore.

"What?!
Singapore is hardly a no Man's land!," you might say.

Well, for one and a half days, I actually thought it was;
and it had nothing to do with me getting warnings twice from the authorities also (let me tell you it's not for littering or vandalism).

It had to do with the malls.
I guess I'm not much for malls; and the first one and a half days were all about checking them out.
At first, yeah, they were great, especially considering just how many good looking girls roaming them.
But the excitement wore off quickly.
So much that I could only think of four words to describe the country.

Hot babes - Hot pants

That's all there is.
Where am I? I thought.
Everyone was wearing their best clothes, using lots of make up, spending lots of money for things I did not understand.
I was in the land of consumption frenzy, filled with beautiful looking beings that I don't recognize as mere humans.
I was in the land of the gods and goddesses... with malls all around.

(Some say it's a shopping heaven.
Well, I don't like to shop.)

***

It changed everything.

For the first time, I saw the beautiful landscape I had only been able to see in pictures.

It felt like I was in the pictures myself.
The pictures have come to life! I thought.
They are all filled with vivid colors! They surround me from every angles!
Until it hit me.
The pictures are real! I am really here!
I was filled with joy.
And it was far from over.

***

There were only three members (one had the guitar, one on percussion, and a vocalist).
They performed these arrays of light-relaxing songs, and were actually pretty good.
They talked to the audience between every performance, churning out jokes here and there.
Sometimes they told stories from their lives, which were all touching, in a light-happy way.
And to realize all was done on a stage with a backdrop of  beautiful landscape of the river, the tall buildings and the Merlion at night, was just unbelievable.
It was almost a trance for me.

But I was given more.
In the middle of a performance, all of the sudden, an old man on the front row stood up.
I thought he was going to the toilet when he started...
to dance.
Yes, he danced in front of the stage, at the watching eyes of the crowd.
And it was not just a simple dance.
He danced the dance I thought only someone with booties could pull.
The old man danced passionately; and we all cheered.
I almost cried that night.

The next day, I traveled alone to the edges of Singapore.
I saw flats with dried clothes hanging on its railings, schools, bad malls like the ones we have in Bekasi, dirty public toilets (yes, that's right).
I saw ugly people, high school students just coming home from schools, college students, workers, senior citizens, children, families.
I saw a land of Man, with mere Man all over it; ordinary people doing ordinary things.

I was no longer in the land of gods and goddesses.
I was in someone's country, someone's home.

It was beautiful.

I never thought I would be excited to see all the things that had made me happy.
I mean, dried clothes, public toilets, workers? Get real.
But I was.

Departure

I'm leaving!

I'll be back seven days before my neurology test (speechless).

Wish me luck!

Don Rosa's The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck: A Hidden Gem

A friend of mine has already posted this comic on his site, so I won't mention much about it.

I just feel I have to post it again because it is actually very good.
It reminds me the sheer joy of optimism and hope.
I've always loved Disney stories. I have fond memories of them in my childhood.
I guess that's why the impact is even greater for me.

Just read it, you won't be sorry.

I Say Grace

Thank you o dear Lord, for what I have received from it.

1. I have become stronger
2. I have learned a lot about myself
3. I have something to write
   
4. I have learned about forgiveness
   
5. For the first time in a long time, my heart is love again
6. 
   
7. 
   
8. 
   
9. 
   
10. 
    

If the amount isn't ten yet, then I'm still trying.
But I'll get them all, don't worry. :)

UPDATE
I just don't give a shit anymore.

The Truth about My Tooth

Have I ever mentioned about my tooth?
It shattered to pieces about a week ago.

Okay, actually, there were no more than two pieces. But it still freaked me out. Let me tell you, the last thing you want to see is a crack line that parts your tooth into two perfect halves, where blood flows every time you nudge the parts apart.

Anyway, I went to the nearest dentist I could find.
The dentist, to my surprise, was a very very FINE woman.
She was pretty, with big eyes, great smile, perfect skin...,
and judging by the size of the tummy, was about 32 weeks pregnant. (Talk about the fastest heartbreak you’ll ever get)

I told her that the tooth had got its problems for years.
She checked it out, and finally decided to remove it one step at a time. She took the first half out quickly, and left the other half for about a week.

The next week, today, I went to see her again. I presumed it was going to be fast just as the first.
But it didn’t.
I knew that something was wrong the moment she changed the tool she was using for about, like, the 6th time.
Finally she said that the root of my tooth was firmly attached to my lower jaw (it gives a whole new meaning to the term 'attachment problem' I guess), and that there were two things that could be done; the first one was operation, and the second one was taking the tooth’s crown while leaving the root.
“Sometimes the root comes out by itself,” she continued. “I suggest you take the latter.”

She looked so confident about it that I, without hesitation, took the second choice.
The process won’t hurt, I thought. I bet it’s a normal, quick, and painless procedure.
It never crossed my mind that she’s actually suggesting to break what's left of my tooth in two.

Things began to sink in when the nurse started to hold my head tight. I was always a good patient; I never complained and sat quietly. So if she decided to hold my head anyway, there had to be a grave concern that I, the good patient, would still move my head.

Damn.
The process was painful and unsurprisingly long.

She finally managed to take the crown out, or should I say crowns, considering that the crown shattered again into two pieces? (My tooth was a freaking cluster bomb)
Now I just have to wait a month to see if the root does come out. If it doesn’t, well, the operation is inevitable after all.

Blah, it’s the least of my problems.

The Price of Knowledge

Have you ever seen an episode of The Simpsons where Homer becomes smart?

It turns out that there’s a crayon embedded in his brain that makes him a dumb man we know.
So, a surgery is done to remove the crayon; and after that, he turns into a smart person.
It goes well for Homer, but after a while, knowledge starts to take its toll.
He realizes that he cannot be as happy as he was. He is unable to appreciate the simple, stupid things that used to make him happy. To know really takes the fun of everything.
In the end, he undergoes a second surgery and has the crayon reinserted. He is dumb again but very happy.

I can’t tell you how much I relate to this simple story.
In my spiritual journey, I have come to realize that everything is just, well, NOTHING.
And as the result, I have lost almost all my faith in them.
I don’t have anything to fight anymore, because everything is just worthless.
The world for me now is just a bunch of lies.
It still has its own eternal values (silence, serenity, prudence, true love, etc), but none of them gets me as excited as the lies would.
In other words,

The world is big
The world is profound
The world is divine
And it is no fun.

It gets me hard sometimes.
And since I cannot undo what I already know, what must I do?

Anthony DeMello once said that in life there were two things a human had to do.
The first one was to know that everything was pointless.
And the second one was to pretend we didn’t know the first part.

Truth be told, I don’t know how to pretend.

So, I need a new knowledge, a new belief, a new value that will make me happy again; because I have lost faith in the old ones.

Must I decide my own NEW values (as implied by Nietzsche)? Must I determine my own subjective truth (as was told by Kierkegaard)?
The problem is, both men who suggested this already had their own values. They were just having a hard time because their values differed greatly with the accepted values at the time. That’s why they came up with what they said.
And as for me, I have no values of my own. I simply have nothing to believe. To force myself creating one and believing in it would just be, well, FAKE. I wouldn’t buy it for a second.

I still believe there’s something to believe out there; something that will get me fired up again, something to fight for with passion.
I know so because there are people who have found it.

I guess If I had the chance to meet Jesus, I would ask Him one question.
“What is it?”
As in, “What is it that you found that made you so content, you didn't even curse a single word while going through the worst execution on earth?”

I just want to believe in something again.

My Name is Jonah

There were two guest priests at Sunday mass today. Both were Divine Word missionaries.
Upon starting mass, the host priest offered them the microphone to introduce themselves.
One of them received it and started talking.

“Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning,” we choired.

“It is good to be back in Indonesia," he continued. "I am an Divine Word priest. For ten years, I’ve been living in Argentina. I’m doing a mission there. You know, more than 90% of its population are Catholics, but don't expect to see a crowded Sunday mass just as we have here. People there seldom go to church. This matter of faith intrigues me...”
[And he went on and on about his mission there.]

I said to myself, “Divine Word missionaries sure talk a lot. Never seen one that doesn’t.”

Finally he stopped speaking.
He was giving the microphone to the other priest when it suddenly struck him that he hadn’t said his name in his supposedly 'introduction'.
So he took the microphone back and said, “By the way, my name is Jonah. If you’ve heard about the man who stayed in a fish belly for three days, well that’s me.”

Upon hearing this, my uncle, who happens to be a Jesuit priest, whispered to my ear.
“Divine Word missionaries do talk a lot. Never seen one that doesn’t.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “And I thought whales were mammals.”