Humor-esque

Playing “Humoresque” in front of a tough audience is one of the most embarrassing yet fulfilling events of my artistic life.

I had my second violin recital last Saturday. Papa, Kuyang, my violin classmates, PH classmate and barkada Ruthie, my maestro, and strangers who would seemingly represent if not constitute the entire nation, watched my ultimate humiliation. Kuyang even immortalized it with our video cam.

Starting the day right, I woke up late for my lesson at 10 am. I only had 15 minutes to prepare for that class and my fabulous performance that afternoon, and I haven’t even had my practice for my recital, much less for the orchestra. But still, I kept my natural, slow pace, as always, as I thoroughly caressed my body in the bathroom, meticulously set my long black hair, ironed my pink manly shirt, looked for a pair of black leather shoes. I came to UST an hour late.

I have good vibes with my maestro that day, like every week that we meet. People were smiling at me when I clumsily entered the classroom. They actually stopped what they’re playing just for me (Aaawww, they like me!) and waited until I was ready. Was it because of the pink shirt? I guess. It was starting out just right. I was with my violin classmates the whole time until the right moment came.

I think this group of different sorts of individuals will be my kind of gang for the next few years. I was quite grateful that our common teacher united us this way. I’ve always said to them, “Buti na lang at pinagsama-sama tayo ni Sir… pwede na natin siyang pagkaisahan! Hahaha!” Kidding aside, I think if I were to be given an opportunity to study or work abroad right now, I would have second thoughts of accepting it. I can not cease to ignore the potential this clan I am with every Saturdays has.

Anyway, so I was again in the recital hall that afternoon, feeling awkward due to my lack of practice and confidence. When I looked into the programme, I saw my name as the tenth recitalist. It was a good sign. Last recital, I was third in line, and the beginners are always prioritized. I also observed that we were a better variety – we had a guitarist, two trumpeters, four violinists (including moi) a young pseudo-premadonna, and seven pianists. Unfortunately, I still was the oldest.

What made me more anxious was the that trumpeter before me gave me an awkward prelude with his loud finale. When I was on stage, I realized that I could not tune my own violin that I had to walk toward my teacher and ask him to tune it. I had a weak start, which made my entire performance weak. I also had notes that were completely out of tune. I sometimes apologize for the inexpensiveness of my instrument. Fine maple wood gives superior sound quality, they said.

I do not need anyone to tell me my “areas of improvement” on that performance. Watching the recorded video footage, I know that my posture was inferior, my facial expressions showed too much uneasiness, I obviously reacted to every mistake I made, and worst of all, I was flabby and fat.

That’s it, I said. I’m a mediocre, as I chose to be. Unrehearsed and tense as I was during my first recital, my smart look did not cover my flaws. Oh well. But I was happy, though, for Ruthie, also inspired to pursue learning the violin, saw me perform – I have become an inspiration to humanity. Chenes.

I was surprised when my teacher sent me a message, bidding his congratulations and asking how I felt. It was really heartwarming of him (Aaaww, he likes me…). We agreed that I need to get rid of my stage fright and practice some more. As he said, It’s all part of the game. So, as a result of this heartwarming exchange to text messages, I was opt to have my next recital on Saturday at Sta. Isabel College.

I decided to play “Humoresque” again not only for the sake of my own “humor,” but also for the sake of perfection. As I quote my repeater classmate in San Beda, “It is sweeter the second time around.”

I hope that this time I have more hours of practice and ego boosting. So I’d better end this post and go home (I’m still in the office hehehe).

IQ 101 (Career Calamity: Special Edition)

I was tuned in Channel 7 and watched “100% Pinoy,” which featured a few past and present “gifted” kids. I have learned about Shaira Luna, a former Promil user who discussed the cardiovascular system over a 15-second commercial several years back. She went into De La Salle University at the age of 12. However, she shifted from her pre-med course to other courses several times and eventually discontinued her college education. She is now working as a freelance photographer.

A La Salleian friend said that they were seeing Shaira in La Salle and were making fun of her. When she passed by them, she was teased by saying, “Uy, ayan na ang mga planets! Wooooh…” (pointing a finger up and forming circles).

“What are you helling at?” said Shaira (as what my friend claimed).

“HELLING naman pala eh! Akala ko ba Promil kid ka, bakit ang bobo mo?” Enough about La Sallian culture.

Poor Shaira - pressured by a society that tagged her as a young genius. Entering college at an early age, and with very high expectations from everyone, I believe she was burned out. Now, like any other young adults, she is faced with a dilemma of what career path to take. The end point: she did not graduate in spite of her high IQ. I don’t say that having a college degree is the best measure of achievement, but in her case, she could have at least finished her course, and then get exposed to other career possibilities after. Like me. I hope it won’t happen to my cousin/sister, Sophia, who was in the same situation where she could not choose what course to take. Not that she's a genius, but she is multi-talented, and can go to any course she want, based on her aptitude test. I hope she will finish her currently chosen course, environmental biology, and if she needs to venture in other tracks, she will do that after graduating. Like me. I do not favor "ningas-kugon" mentality when it comes to career undertaking.

Anyway, moving on. “100% Pinoy” also mentioned MENSA (I forget what it stands for), an association comprised of the top 2% highest IQ in the country, or in the world, in which each member made good on a particular IQ test and had proven that he's a genius. So what’s the purpose of MENSA anyway? Makakuha nga ng exam hehehe.

But seriously, am I a wiz kid, err, person? When my doctor aunt first saw me as an infant, she feared that I might have hydrocephalus. No, I only had an enlarged brain. And as what I remember, my IQ test result in high school was superior. Ano na kaya ngayon? Will I have the same IQ if I now take the exam? But what I know is I’m a Jack of All Trades. I know how to do a lot of things aside from the sciences: I can draw, paint, sing (ahem) dance (ahem-ahem) and play the violin (harrrgh!). A master of none? I’m not quite sure.

Sayang. If I only had a more encouraging environment to better improve my skills and talents when I was a growing kid, or in short, if only my parents were richer, I could have been brainier. For instance, I should have started learning how to play the violin when I was, say, four. That is why I envy rich and motivated kids.

Poor country. If only every Filipino kid had his opportunity to grow up thinking of no other concerns except enhancing his skills and, well, EQ, we would be a country full of wiz kids. Eh di uunlad sana ang bansa.

But although poor, I believe there are a lot of smart and talented Filipinos. Despite our environment, there still are venues in which Filipinos were able to enhance their skills and talents. I think it is better to be passionately struggling for survival and achievement in a repressed environment than to live in an overflourished one where one can hardly think of necessity for improvement. The only issue is the Filipino attitude to respond to that necessity.

I’m now hearing opinions that the Filipino youth nowadays, whether with high or low IQ, do not know what to do after graduating in college. In other words, they lost track of their ambitions. Is it because of the scarcity in human-development-friendly career opportunities? I think so. Kasi naman. In terms of the scientific world, how is the society responding to new local innovations in research and technology? In terms of the arts, how are we responding to our countrymen’s artistic achievements? I do not see that in the media, except in the “society” pages. Is it because of Filipino’s inferiority complex, that only foreigners or the rich can do whatever they want?

Like the “ningas-kugon” mentality, I do not favor tolerance of human degradation due to inferior environment. I believe in the competence of the human mind amidst adversaries. Man should dictate the necessity of his environment, and not vice versa. And going back to the IQ subject, I disagree that those with higher IQ will have greater achievements. All that is needed is motivation and extra effort.

At this moment, I am in a state of brain drain, like this country.

An Af-fur to Remember

*I'm not quite sure what my cat's gender exactly is. But for the sake of this post, let's assume she's female.*

I never thought I would fall in love with a cat.

I remember the first day I laid eyes on her. It was a sunny morning. I was fixing my look in front of the mirror and almost ready to go to work when suddenly Papa, my father, caught my attention.

Papa: Jay, may kuting sa labas ng gate.
Charvie: ...Eh ano naman ngayon?
Papa: Kasi nakasabit siya sa imburnal...

There she was, right outside our gate, crying as if there was no tomorrow. Her body was hanging as her head got stuck between the steel bars covering our sidewalk's manhole. Her saliva covered her entire neck. She was traumatized and delirious. Papa and I took her inside and nursed her. Realizing that we didn't have milk at that time, I prepared her a few milliliters of mixture of Coffee-mate, Milo and water. She could not walk - she was only several days older than a newborn litter.

Assuming she had enough nourishment, I decided to leave her in a flower box outside our gate, hoping that her relatives would come to fetch her. I asked Papa to take a look at our patient while I was gone for work. When I got back, I checked her condition and fed her. Two days have passed and she was still where I was leaving her, taken inside and fed every once in a while with a mixture I doubted was sufficient for her health. In rained on the third day, and I had to make a drastic move. Three days had passed and no other cats bothered to get her. Rainy days had started and she had to be taken care of, or she'd die. I took her in and brought her up to our balcony.

I called her Nge-Nge. Short for bangenge.

I bought a can of evaporated milk just for her. I had to use my small beaker and even buy a medicine dropper just so I could effectively feed her. Every morning and night, I made sure she had more than she needed. One time, I misdiagnosed her to have a worm infection, finding out later on that she was only "bondat." I even gave her a bath every week and made sure she had some exercise before I left her.

She grew up gracefully. See this as proof.

I observed her hopping faster everyday. At first I was protecting her from my our two hounds, Yoko and Skipper, but Nge-Nge eventually adapted and bravely played "tag" with them. She even earned my respect by hunting down two mice lurking in the corners of our house - a recognition Yoko and Skipper never earned. See this. I even allowed her to sleep with me in my bed. I always heard her motor-like purr when she's near my ear and crawling on my body while I was half asleep. Somehow I got used to have someone crawling over me. Kidding.

She was doing quite well, except for her shit; it stinked. My mom hated cleaning and removing the stench of Nge-Nge's litter. Moreover, they claimed, and I somehow agreed, that having three pets is too much for our household. My parents did not buy the benefit of keeping a mouse hunter in the house. They made sure that I always heard from them that Nge-Nge had to go. I was ignoring them, thinking that it was not yet the right time. She's too young, I thought, and might die out there.

As I came home from work one night, Papa reported that Nge-Nge made her way out of the balcony and ran away. I was furious. I remember myself ranting at my parents that their wish was granted. And then I lost hope overnight. She's dead, I assumed.

She came back the next day.

From then on, I realized that Nge-Nge was an intelligent creature after all. Knowing she's back and safe made me realize that I was wrong. She will survive. And our house isn't big enough for all of us. My parents were right. She had to go - and she did. Mommy saw the opportunity when her pupils had a sports activity in their school. She brought Nge-Nge with her, together with the pupils who would take care of her from then on. As what I've heard, one of Mommy's pupils adopted her. I always assume that she is still in good hands.

There is no greater miracle than to save and nurture life.

Cultured-ish

You won't believe where I was last night.

I was watching an opera at the CCP Tanghalang Nicanor Abelardo with my violin classmates. It was Tchaikovsky’s “Eugene Onegin,” produced by UST (Whooh! Go Uste!). It’s about a story of a man feeling sorry for rejecting a woman’s love. Morale: Frustration begets frustration.

It was nice, except that I don’t understand a shit – it was Russian. I had to buy an overpriced but worthless programme to understand what’s going on, only to find out that only one page was allotted for the story and the rest of the print were advertisements and the production's and the cast members’ crappy achievements. Even its layout was designed like trash. Hay, CCP.

Unfortunately, the dances were not well-choreographed. I like the costumes and the simplicity of the props though. I admire Russian, so It's fine.

But what I love about it was Tchaikovsky’s music – a real genius – and the orchestra responsible for the live music, including my Maestro Macazo hehehe. Bravissimo! Okay, fine, I’m impressed with the singers too.

By the way, did you know that Peter Il’yich Tchaikovsky, my favorite composer, was handsome and gay? Thanks to wikipedia for the info and the pic. Read this for more.

The last live play I watched before this was “Zsa Zsa Zaturnnah: Ze Muzikal” by Carlo Vergara, starring Eula Valdez and the fags. Wagi! Panalo ka sister! And before that, I think, was Miss Saigon, starring Leah Salonga and the brown and white people. Da best.

I appreciate now why we were exposed in such theatrical environments in high school - to have a feel of being a cultured brat. Hahaha. Kidding.

I’m looking forward to the next cultural experience. I hope that, by then, language barrier will no longer be an issue.

Yum-in-a-box

I'm currently working on a desk in an office that looks like a house and is said to be haunted by an old lady and her grandchild. But I'm not afraid. I just have to acknowledge their presence and I'm safe. And it's still raining. Shit.

I'm currently working and at the same time writing my post. Actually, I'm not working. I'm typing my post. It's 8:20 pm and I'm still here. Why? I don't know.

But what I know is I'm in an office. Alone. An office. May trabaho pala ako? *smirk*. Problem is, most of the time I'm inside this box. I was dreaming of far more exciting jobs than this, say investigating an outbreak or implementing a health program in the community. But not this. I'm no better than a clerk - only a lot smarter and more commanding. So I had my 5-day field work in Iloilo and Cebu, big deal! Compared to months of staying here in this haunted office, that field work only seemed like a day-off in a whole year of work.

But I have to admit, I've learned a lot about work ethics and more about me unethically working. I don't need "criticism, self-criticisim" for that, which, by the way, was done here quite often. I don't want to think about them right now (I might collapse - I still have deadlines you know), but suffice it to say, I'm not the most efficient person in the world.

This office will be closed soon and somehow I'm sad about it.

But someday, I will put up my own office. It will be elegant and smart. Just like its boss. And by that time, I will be much more efficient.

The rain is out. This yummy's gotta go. Hehehe.

IPHM Kong Mahal

Sa aking mga kasamahan sa IPHM, sa ating mga paghihirap sa ngalan ng kalusugan, sa ating pakikisalamuha sa iba't-bang elemento ng proyektong pangkalusugan at pananaliksik. Sa mga aliping sagigilid at aliping namamahay na hindi nakakauwi nang tamang oras, ni hindi nakakakain nang sapat (Kaya't dinadaan na lamang sa pagpasok nang tanghali na). At sa mga Pilipinong naghahangad ng magandang kalidad ng buhay. Para sa inyo ang mga larawang ito. Mabuhay tayo!

DOGMA

Last night, I finished reading an old fiction novel, “The Fountainhead” by Ayn Rand. And at that time, I started meticulously reassessing the value of human existence.

As Miranda Priestly said it… “Groundbreaking.”

It is about an egotistic architect who never compromised his genius innovations to collaboration and cooperation with what Rand coined as “second-handers.” At the end, he stood victorious on the top of his greatest skyscraper. After finishing the last page, I was moved to research Ayn Rand and all the philosophies tied to her name: objectivism, egotism, as well as altruism, collectivism and communism. I was like a Borg drone assimilating information from the cyberspace. I never conceived that I would be reaffixed in concepts I have abandoned since I left the school paper and would think a lot like this in centuries – All because of a book of philosophy embedded in an architectural theme.

I ask myself, have I been an altruist all these years? As far as my values are concerned, I have admired selfless love and service for others and somehow rejected the opinions of egotistic eggheads. I planned my profession based on humanitarian objectives. The Church did not absolutely enforce me this, rest assured, but my urge in life has been in the service of the common good, for humanity as a Gift to God. I think my deceased grandmother, a teacher, a public servant, taught me this.

Then I remember my battle in the school newspaper. I saw myself asserting a selfish philosophy and using all my power to publish it in a paper that I believed was corrupted by individuals who would die for collectivism. My article discussed the vehement rejection of imposition of philosophies, condemning it as the gravest crime to humanity, and I roused independent reason and free thought to the readers, not knowing that I was becoming Ayn Rand. Having so much faith in my reason, I fought for it like a monster. At that time, I felt alone. I was alone. No one would support my monstrosity against a radical collectivist belief, knowing it was too monstrous that it would compromise a lot of things, save my colleague’s reputation. And at times I somehow regretted my actions, considering that in the public’s current way of thinking, I was wrong to defend individualism as it would break cooperation and collaboration among and within organizations, whatever their nature. That was the last assertion of my faith to human purpose. After that, I shut up. And then this.

So, am I an altruist or an egotist?

Rand failed in setting boundaries in depicting altruism and egotism in her work. Her characters who should have stood for altruism are, in reality, egotists who hunger for power and recognition, while her protagonists, who are supposedly selfish and egotistic, value humanity in their own ideals. Perhaps she subconsciously but perfectly put it that way, making me realize that there is no personal boundary at all.

In my understanding, altruism in principle is sacrificing one’s own values, morals and ideals, dignity and reason for other’s gratification, as what Rand suggested. While in practice, altruism is the use of physical or mental energy for the betterment of mankind. I like the latter better.

On the other hand, egotism in principle is safeguarding one’s own values, morals and ideals, dignity, even creativity and reason from others. Egotism in practice is the use of one’s energy to satisfy his need for pleasure, recognition, self-respect and power, such things that he believes he do not possess. I surely despise the latter.

An old philosophical opponent expressed her opinion, in literal terms, that unity in diversity is bullshit. As I interpret it, she rejects objectivism, the reason of an individual, the “I,” and glorifies collective thought without question, the “we and no one else.” I met her once in a jeepney ride but never looked at her twice. I can not stand to see an altruist in principle but an egotist in practice. Little did she know, like any other prophets of the leftist youth, that practicing one’s expression of opinion, whether original or plagiarized, to a public, whether diverse or brainwashed, is a form of egotism, refuting her own philosophy.

I will observe the social dynamics throughout the years and see branded individualists and collectivists struggle for political and economic power. I will look at faces of the youth blinded by loyalty to a belief that wasn’t their own. I will hear hypocrites denouncing individual rights to a collective cause, knowing at the back of their heads that the basic unit of a collective is an individual. I will die accepting a world with political animals setting boundaries to boundless morals and philosophies for futile applications.

But I will live as I was born and nurtured to live --- to work and achieve, to serve and lead. I will respect humanity as an individual and as a society.

For one can not help others without helping oneself. One can not cooperate with compromised faculties. He is not part of something if he is nothing.

My credo: egotism in principle, altruism in practice.

Buy it. Read it.

That’s an order.