Tuesday, August 30, 2011
BBBBBBB
Books before boys because boys bring babies. LOL.
I've been clearly busy (see my erratic post's schedule) but I do still find time to read and buy more books to hoard collect. I think I'm on my way to fulfilling one of my dreams: to own a home-based library. Hihi. I've recently bought classics (I'm into them now, iniisip ko kasi para mabasa ng magiging anak ko, yes I'm serious!) George Orwell's 1984 and Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita. I've been hunting down a copy of Lolita since summer and thanks to my friend Claire, who informed me that Fullybooked has a copy! Lolita is a rare book, I've been scouting it, yeah, like I said awhile ago, heck I didn't mind that it cost me almost P900!!!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Filipino, not a language of the learned (?)
Kamakailan ay umani ng batikos ang artikulo ng isang Atenista sa Manila Bulletin ukol sa wikang Filipino, ito ang link
Language, learning, identity, privilege
By JAMES SORIANO
August 24, 2011, 4:06am
MANILA, Philippines — English is the language of learning. I’ve known this since before I could go to school. As a toddler, my first study materials were a set of flash cards that my mother used to teach me the English alphabet.
My mother made home conducive to learning English: all my storybooks and coloring books were in English, and so were the cartoons I watched and the music I listened to. She required me to speak English at home. She even hired tutors to help me learn to read and write in English.
In school I learned to think in English. We used English to learn about numbers, equations and variables. With it we learned about observation and inference, the moon and the stars, monsoons and photosynthesis. With it we learned about shapes and colors, about meter and rhythm. I learned about God in English, and I prayed to Him in English.
Filipino, on the other hand, was always the ‘other’ subject — almost a special subject like PE or Home Economics, except that it was graded the same way as Science, Math, Religion, and English. My classmates and I used to complain about Filipino all the time. Filipino was a chore, like washing the dishes; it was not the language of learning. It was the language we used to speak to the people who washed our dishes.
We used to think learning Filipino was important because it was practical: Filipino was the language of the world outside the classroom. It was the language of the streets: it was how you spoke to the tindera when you went to the tindahan, what you used to tell your katulong that you had an utos, and how you texted manong when you needed “sundo na.”
These skills were required to survive in the outside world, because we are forced to relate with the tinderas and the manongs and the katulongs of this world. If we wanted to communicate to these people — or otherwise avoid being mugged on the jeepney — we needed to learn Filipino.
That being said though, I was proud of my proficiency with the language. Filipino was the language I used to speak with my cousins and uncles and grandparents in the province, so I never had much trouble reciting.
It was the reading and writing that was tedious and difficult. I spoke Filipino, but only when I was in a different world like the streets or the province; it did not come naturally to me. English was more natural; I read, wrote and thought in English. And so, in much of the same way that I learned German later on, I learned Filipino in terms of English. In this way I survived Filipino in high school, albeit with too many sentences that had the preposition ‘ay.’
It was really only in university that I began to grasp Filipino in terms of language and not just dialect. Filipino was not merely a peculiar variety of language, derived and continuously borrowing from the English and Spanish alphabets; it was its own system, with its own grammar, semantics, sounds, even symbols.
But more significantly, it was its own way of reading, writing, and thinking. There are ideas and concepts unique to Filipino that can never be translated into another. Try translating bayanihan, tagay, kilig or diskarte.
Only recently have I begun to grasp Filipino as the language of identity: the language of emotion, experience, and even of learning. And with this comes the realization that I do, in fact, smell worse than a malansang isda. My own language is foreign to me: I speak, think, read and write primarily in English. To borrow the terminology of Fr. Bulatao, I am a split-level Filipino.
But perhaps this is not so bad in a society of rotten beef and stinking fish. For while Filipino may be the language of identity, it is the language of the streets. It might have the capacity to be the language of learning, but it is not the language of the learned.
It is neither the language of the classroom and the laboratory, nor the language of the boardroom, the court room, or the operating room. It is not the language of privilege. I may be disconnected from my being Filipino, but with a tongue of privilege I will always have my connections.
So I have my education to thank for making English my mother language.
***
Nakaka inis lang 'di ba? Di porke't conyo ka o magaling mag Ingles, mas mataas na ang posisyon mo sa lipunan.
Bakit ba may nosyong mas matalino, mas magaling, mas edukado kapag umi-English?
Language, learning, identity, privilege
By JAMES SORIANO
August 24, 2011, 4:06am
MANILA, Philippines — English is the language of learning. I’ve known this since before I could go to school. As a toddler, my first study materials were a set of flash cards that my mother used to teach me the English alphabet.
My mother made home conducive to learning English: all my storybooks and coloring books were in English, and so were the cartoons I watched and the music I listened to. She required me to speak English at home. She even hired tutors to help me learn to read and write in English.
In school I learned to think in English. We used English to learn about numbers, equations and variables. With it we learned about observation and inference, the moon and the stars, monsoons and photosynthesis. With it we learned about shapes and colors, about meter and rhythm. I learned about God in English, and I prayed to Him in English.
Filipino, on the other hand, was always the ‘other’ subject — almost a special subject like PE or Home Economics, except that it was graded the same way as Science, Math, Religion, and English. My classmates and I used to complain about Filipino all the time. Filipino was a chore, like washing the dishes; it was not the language of learning. It was the language we used to speak to the people who washed our dishes.
We used to think learning Filipino was important because it was practical: Filipino was the language of the world outside the classroom. It was the language of the streets: it was how you spoke to the tindera when you went to the tindahan, what you used to tell your katulong that you had an utos, and how you texted manong when you needed “sundo na.”
These skills were required to survive in the outside world, because we are forced to relate with the tinderas and the manongs and the katulongs of this world. If we wanted to communicate to these people — or otherwise avoid being mugged on the jeepney — we needed to learn Filipino.
That being said though, I was proud of my proficiency with the language. Filipino was the language I used to speak with my cousins and uncles and grandparents in the province, so I never had much trouble reciting.
It was the reading and writing that was tedious and difficult. I spoke Filipino, but only when I was in a different world like the streets or the province; it did not come naturally to me. English was more natural; I read, wrote and thought in English. And so, in much of the same way that I learned German later on, I learned Filipino in terms of English. In this way I survived Filipino in high school, albeit with too many sentences that had the preposition ‘ay.’
It was really only in university that I began to grasp Filipino in terms of language and not just dialect. Filipino was not merely a peculiar variety of language, derived and continuously borrowing from the English and Spanish alphabets; it was its own system, with its own grammar, semantics, sounds, even symbols.
But more significantly, it was its own way of reading, writing, and thinking. There are ideas and concepts unique to Filipino that can never be translated into another. Try translating bayanihan, tagay, kilig or diskarte.
Only recently have I begun to grasp Filipino as the language of identity: the language of emotion, experience, and even of learning. And with this comes the realization that I do, in fact, smell worse than a malansang isda. My own language is foreign to me: I speak, think, read and write primarily in English. To borrow the terminology of Fr. Bulatao, I am a split-level Filipino.
But perhaps this is not so bad in a society of rotten beef and stinking fish. For while Filipino may be the language of identity, it is the language of the streets. It might have the capacity to be the language of learning, but it is not the language of the learned.
It is neither the language of the classroom and the laboratory, nor the language of the boardroom, the court room, or the operating room. It is not the language of privilege. I may be disconnected from my being Filipino, but with a tongue of privilege I will always have my connections.
So I have my education to thank for making English my mother language.
***
Nakaka inis lang 'di ba? Di porke't conyo ka o magaling mag Ingles, mas mataas na ang posisyon mo sa lipunan.
Bakit ba may nosyong mas matalino, mas magaling, mas edukado kapag umi-English?
Monday, August 22, 2011
the little things
The literature enthusiasts, professors and critiques have been mourning since one of its National Artists, Edith Tiempo, passed away last August 21. I've never been that inclined to writing poems, short stories or other literary artworks. But, I felt sad with the passing of Tiempo and Ophelia Dimalanta, another treasure of Philippine literature.
Posted below is Ms. Tiempo's famous, Bonsai. I remember way back when I was still in second year college, that it was one of the poems i understood and loved most. Thanks by the way, to Sir Galan's extensive explanation of the subject.
Bonsai
All that I love
I fold over once
And once again
And keep in a box
Or a slit in a hollow post
Or in my shoe.
All that I love?
Why, yes, but for the moment ---
And for all time, both.
Something that folds and keeps easy,
Son’s note or Dad’s one gaudy tie,
A roto picture of a young queen,
A blue Indian shawl, even
A money bill.
It’s utter sublimation
A feat, this heart’s control
Moment to moment
To scale all love down
To a cupped hand’s size,
Till seashells are broken pieces
From God’s own bright teeth.
And life and love are real
Things you can run and
Breathless hand over
To the merest child.
- Edith L. Tiempo
The poem talks about the paradox of love: small actions or things like Dad's love note, remind us of the irreplaceable sentimental values of these small things.
Speaking of "small things," my playlist has been playing Collbie Calliat's, guess what, The Little Things:
The little things, you do to me are
taking me over, i wanna show ya
everything inside of me
like a nervous heart that, is crazy beating
my feet are stuck here, against the pavement
i wanna break free, i wanna make it
closer to your eyes, get your attention
before you pass me by
So back up back up take another chance
Don’t you mess up mess up I don’t wanna lose you
Wake up wake up this aint just a thing that you
Give up give up don’t you say that I’d be
Better off better off, sleepin by myself and wonderin
If im better off better off, with out you boy
So don't just leave me hanging on
And every time, you notice me by
holdin me closely, and sayin sweet things
i don't believe, that it could be
you speekin your mind and, sayin the real thing
my feet have broke free, and i am leavin
i'm not gonna stand here, feelin lonely but
i wont forget you, and i won't think this
was just a waste of time
C: So back up back up take another chance
Don’t you mess up mess up I don’t wanna lose you
Wake up wake up this aint just a thing that you
Give up give up don’t you say that I’d be
Better off better off, sleepin by myself and wonderin
If im better off better off, with out you boy
But don't just leave me hangin on.....
Posted below is Ms. Tiempo's famous, Bonsai. I remember way back when I was still in second year college, that it was one of the poems i understood and loved most. Thanks by the way, to Sir Galan's extensive explanation of the subject.
Bonsai
All that I love
I fold over once
And once again
And keep in a box
Or a slit in a hollow post
Or in my shoe.
All that I love?
Why, yes, but for the moment ---
And for all time, both.
Something that folds and keeps easy,
Son’s note or Dad’s one gaudy tie,
A roto picture of a young queen,
A blue Indian shawl, even
A money bill.
It’s utter sublimation
A feat, this heart’s control
Moment to moment
To scale all love down
To a cupped hand’s size,
Till seashells are broken pieces
From God’s own bright teeth.
And life and love are real
Things you can run and
Breathless hand over
To the merest child.
- Edith L. Tiempo
The poem talks about the paradox of love: small actions or things like Dad's love note, remind us of the irreplaceable sentimental values of these small things.
Speaking of "small things," my playlist has been playing Collbie Calliat's, guess what, The Little Things:
The little things, you do to me are
taking me over, i wanna show ya
everything inside of me
like a nervous heart that, is crazy beating
my feet are stuck here, against the pavement
i wanna break free, i wanna make it
closer to your eyes, get your attention
before you pass me by
So back up back up take another chance
Don’t you mess up mess up I don’t wanna lose you
Wake up wake up this aint just a thing that you
Give up give up don’t you say that I’d be
Better off better off, sleepin by myself and wonderin
If im better off better off, with out you boy
So don't just leave me hanging on
And every time, you notice me by
holdin me closely, and sayin sweet things
i don't believe, that it could be
you speekin your mind and, sayin the real thing
my feet have broke free, and i am leavin
i'm not gonna stand here, feelin lonely but
i wont forget you, and i won't think this
was just a waste of time
C: So back up back up take another chance
Don’t you mess up mess up I don’t wanna lose you
Wake up wake up this aint just a thing that you
Give up give up don’t you say that I’d be
Better off better off, sleepin by myself and wonderin
If im better off better off, with out you boy
But don't just leave me hangin on.....
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Winner.
From this :)
Sa isang relasyon na walang kasiguraduhan, ano kayang patutunguhan kapag may isang naguluhan?
Sa isang relasyong walang 'iloveyou'han, pero laging nagkakantutan, ano kayang mangyayari kapag yung isa hindi na ginaganahan?
Sa isang relasyong walang maayos na usapan, ano kayang ganap kapag yung isa nakaramdam ng pagmamahal na hindi dapat?
Sa isang relasyong 'friends lang' pero madalas magkapisan, ano kayang mangyayari kapag ang isa, natuto nang umasa at maghintay, na wala naman sa usapan?
Lalayo ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Umasa ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Naghintay ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Malulungkot ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Nagdadrama ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Nag e emo ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Nagmamahal ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Sa isang relasyon na walang kasiguraduhan, ano kayang patutunguhan kapag may isang naguluhan?
Sa isang relasyong walang 'iloveyou'han, pero laging nagkakantutan, ano kayang mangyayari kapag yung isa hindi na ginaganahan?
Sa isang relasyong walang maayos na usapan, ano kayang ganap kapag yung isa nakaramdam ng pagmamahal na hindi dapat?
Sa isang relasyong 'friends lang' pero madalas magkapisan, ano kayang mangyayari kapag ang isa, natuto nang umasa at maghintay, na wala naman sa usapan?
Lalayo ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Umasa ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Naghintay ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Malulungkot ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Nagdadrama ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Nag e emo ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Nagmamahal ang isa, walang pakialam ang isa.
Monday, August 8, 2011
EWAN.
Korni mang pakinggan, pero, what is love?
Serioulsy, we could describe and define gravity, relativism and eclipse. But love? I don't know.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"I love you."
...
Hindi na sumagot si girlie. Will she reply that she feels
the same? Sabi ng kaibigan ko, gusto din niya si boy pero
she does not know if it is already love.
Nang tinanong niya si boy kung pano nito nasabing mahal niya
si babae, "ewan", ang tangi nitong nasabi.
Love is a complex matter need not to be deciphered rather experienced.
Naks ano daw. Ewan. Wala din akong alam diyan. Tanga rin ako sa pag-ibig.
What is love?
Serioulsy, we could describe and define gravity, relativism and eclipse. But love? I don't know.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"I love you."
...
Hindi na sumagot si girlie. Will she reply that she feels
the same? Sabi ng kaibigan ko, gusto din niya si boy pero
she does not know if it is already love.
Nang tinanong niya si boy kung pano nito nasabing mahal niya
si babae, "ewan", ang tangi nitong nasabi.
Love is a complex matter need not to be deciphered rather experienced.
Naks ano daw. Ewan. Wala din akong alam diyan. Tanga rin ako sa pag-ibig.
What is love?
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
expectations and connections
I guess, I set my standards too high on the Cinemalaya entry, "Babae sa Septic Tank," because it recently won the Best Direction and Best Screen Play plus Eugene Domingo, an effective actress, starred the movie. With all the raves it was getting, I thought that it would met my expectations--sadly it didn't.
I would not spoil you and summarize the whole story, go watch it yourself and share me what you think.
Action-wise, nobody could contest with the performance of Eugene, JM de Guzman and Kean Cipriano. I was shocked that Cipriano could really act. Congrats, Kean.
Anyhow, the movie did not disappoint on making its audience laugh. I loved how Eugene played her character well. I thought that JM and Kean also justified their respective characters as producer and director. In addition, the lines were well written and appeared as though not scripted.
But the entire movie, sadly bored me. CJ and Alex, my bading friends, echoed my sentiments.
I don't know why, but i think the concept of the film: a movie-within-a-movie, was yes, new and fresh in the local movie industry, but i thought that it was too shallow.
Nonetheless, the P140-movie was worth it if, laughtrip ang hanap mo.
***
My closests friends do know my obsession with any kind of accessories. My current love: connector rings. Photos from here
I would not spoil you and summarize the whole story, go watch it yourself and share me what you think.
Action-wise, nobody could contest with the performance of Eugene, JM de Guzman and Kean Cipriano. I was shocked that Cipriano could really act. Congrats, Kean.
Anyhow, the movie did not disappoint on making its audience laugh. I loved how Eugene played her character well. I thought that JM and Kean also justified their respective characters as producer and director. In addition, the lines were well written and appeared as though not scripted.
But the entire movie, sadly bored me. CJ and Alex, my bading friends, echoed my sentiments.
I don't know why, but i think the concept of the film: a movie-within-a-movie, was yes, new and fresh in the local movie industry, but i thought that it was too shallow.
Nonetheless, the P140-movie was worth it if, laughtrip ang hanap mo.
***
My closests friends do know my obsession with any kind of accessories. My current love: connector rings. Photos from here
Monday, August 1, 2011
oh, gust!
How time flies, it's already August. Parang kailan lang... *emo*
I vowed not to let months pass by without posting something, so for the sake of writing anything (no matter how nonsense it is) here i am updating on what month we are. Very intellectual, eh?
It's because i had a hiatus way back in 2009, look oh, may dent yung blog ko. Whatever happened to my 2009?
I vowed not to let months pass by without posting something, so for the sake of writing anything (no matter how nonsense it is) here i am updating on what month we are. Very intellectual, eh?
It's because i had a hiatus way back in 2009, look oh, may dent yung blog ko. Whatever happened to my 2009?
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