What’s new in yellow land? October 31, 2011

I’ve been drawing!

Drawing no.1 in Van James's Transformative Power of Art Workshop at Prado Farms

Drawing no. 2 Egyptian Art

Renaissance Art 1

Renaissance Art 2

Abstract Art

My favorite! Expressionist Art

Thoughts Two Weeks before Turning Thirty-three October 31, 2011

you shall above all things be glad and young
For if you’re young, whatever life you wear

It will become you;and if you are glad
whatever’s living will yourself become.

~ e.e. cummings

~~~

One summer morning while preparing for a writing workshop for teens, a friend told me after finding out that I was 32 that I should do whatever I wished to do because it would come true, it would turn into reality. That’s what the thirties is all about, he said. I’m turning 33 in about two weeks. What have I wished that had come true? What have I worked for that my heart so desired to happen and that, out of my striving, had materialized?

~~~

What is the true question of my soul?
What is it that I am seeking an answer to?
When I open my eyes, I see the light, but it is outside
And not mine: It is when I close them that I need to see
Because from the darkness, I am never free.
What is the deepest cry of my heart?
What is the wound that I am living to heal?
What salve, what balm, what soothing touch
Or caress does the pain need?
Why bleed?
Why die a thousand suns and moons each moment
I fail to understand the truths of my deeds?
I ask
I search
I stand with my arms outstretched,
my face looking up
and I hear from within:
I must learn to love the black scars
and fraying edges of my mind.
I must learn to see in the depths of darkness,
I must see like the blind:
The whole self guiding,
The darkness itself a map,
A compass that leads.
What is the true question of my soul?
I must love this unknowing
And it shall set me free…

~~~

“I beg you…to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer… “
~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Hello October 13, 2011

Is anybody there? Does anyone really know me still, or have I been gone for far too long that only the memory of my name remains?

A New Poem May 12, 2011

Ambivalence

The first storm of May is an answered prayer

After days of white oppressive heat

That had kept me inside.

The earth pulls down the rain,

And my afternoon nap is washed down,

Wet and running fast like a gutter stream

Of paper boats, dried leaves, plastic ice cream cups,

A lone rubber slipper, a little boy’s dream of summer.

I should be happy.

The first rain of May is good luck,

A gift from the gods, they say.

I should be happy,

If only it would not take me inside

past May afternoons in my mind,

spent looking out the window,

watching, listening,

praying and alone.

~first draft~

08 May 2011

March, April and May in Numbers May 12, 2011

Yes, that is not a particularly imaginative title, but just bear with me so I can write something

 March

1. Grail Camp with the Waldorf juniors. Three days in the forest, a surprise hike going to who-knows-where, and voila, the van waiting for us at the end of the forest trail, ready to take us to the surprise destination: Baguio!

2. My very own class performing Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night and The Naming of Cats for our annual end-of-the-year Bahaginan. Though I was not the one who trained them, I thought of those pieces, gave it to them and knew right from the start that they’d do a great job–and they surely did!

April

3. Nothing really…just the oppressive heat.

May

The Write Way Creative Writing Workshop for Teens – it’s ongoing and it’s now on its 4th year! Thank the Muses, thank God! I prayed for many students to come and they did!

4. P and I bought something nice–from our own sweat and blood.

5. And today, it’s our sixth anniversary! J’etaime, mon Pierre! Je remercie Dieu pour vous! Je ne savais pas je resterais toujours comme je suis avec vous…

Randomness #2 March 20, 2011

I’m now reading Barry Lyga’s Goth Girl Rising and I’m liking it. What impresses me with Lyga’s works is its careful handling of sensitive issues like sexual abuse, suicide, and depression, among others. I first read Lyga’s Boy Toy, which although I consider well-written, I probably won’t add in my students’ reading lists–at least, not for tenth-graders or younger.

Reading Goth Girl is an experience: you’re inside the protagonist Kyra’s head the whole time, which is almost the same as alcohol-bingeing while downing cups of coffee alternately. My mind swirls and I pause every now and then to ask myself, is this really how it is when you’re just too full of life’s crap? It makes me feel helpless as an adult–and as a teacher at that. It’s as if I don’t know a thing about helping adoelscents. Yes, I listen to them; I give them advice when they ask for it, or when I think they need one, yet somehow, experiencing Lyga’s Kyra pushes me to the verge of self-doubt, or uncertainty. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared for this, I tell myself.

Because of this, I vow to myself that yeah, this is what I want. I think my calling is really to work with adolescents and one channel would really be literature and creative writing.

Now, for a YA novel to give this kind of epipahny to a harried teacher, only means the work has true merits. At the same time, it makes me ask about the state of YA litearture in the Philippines. The last YA work of note that I had read was Anvil’s Bagets. I loved all the stories in it: the realism, and its unaffected and unpretentious themes and plots are relevant–but that’s the catch: relevant only to a certain generation. My students now won’t be able to relate to the characters and their stories. So although there are a lot of great foreign YA novels in the market, I am still waiting for something that young people now in the country will really call their own.

So, am I going to pass on my copy of Goth Girl to my teenage students? Hmmm. There will be a lot of  “student evaluation” involved before I let them.

o0o0o0

I finished reading Educating Esme the other day. My copy was given by A. I enjoyed i because it reminded me so much of when I was just beginning as a Waldorf teacher. I had a lot of crazy, creative and fearless ideas for my classes, which I was able to do because of supportive colleagues and a holistic pedagogy. And though there are some principles / teaching style that I’d debate Esme with, I admire her passion and dedication to teaching.

I never really wanted to become a teacher. When I was a kid, I even vowed to myself that I will not be a teacher, seeing how Mama really struggled to make both ends meet (tales of longganisa/hotdog/Avon/polvoron selling will come later) to raise me and my siblings. But now I remember how all of her students–high school students–would come to our house to just hang out, or talk to her, or bring her food or flowers, or whatever; Mama was well-loved by her students. That must have been good enough for her.

But I digress.

I think I myself will remain a teacher for as long as I can. But you will not find me in a school forever. Those who know me well know what exactly what I want.

Someday

It’s one of those days… March 15, 2011

…when I just simply want to give up. You plan your lessons, cook up projects which you hope the’d learn from, think of interesting activities that will make them think, feel and simply want to do things.

But no. Today, everyone was just so dead.

o0o0o0

My day was redeemed by the Impromptu Speechfest with the ninth-graders. The first batch had topics like why teens shouldn’t indulge in teasing, why twister fries should be back, parent crimes, gay marriage, how to lie better, sharing answers with friends, and I forget one…

Each student had 3 minutes to speak. It was hilarious. It was touching. It was serious.

Fun class

o0o0o0o

But my own class–oh well, I don’t know. I refuse to say anything. I don’t want to rant.

o0o0o0o

P picked me up at the drop-off and took me to Kamuning so I could look for boxes for the Writers Club’s red-rubber-ball “magic boxes”. I couldn’t find what I really wanted in the market; we decided to walk to National instead where I got colored gift boxes instead. Good alternative.

What’s the magic box? I’ll take pictures when they’re done and post them here.

Incidentally, I saw Barry Lyga’s Goth Girl Rising again. I’ve been wanting to get a copy. Still deciding if I will.

I’ not really saying anything here except that, well, I hope things will be better in school tomorrow.

o0o0o0o0

I will make `em writers write a story that imagines how the end of the world will be…

Like Ian’s post, I think it’ll be a beautiful day when it happens…

Have a good evening y’all.

The Aftermath (Day 3) March 14, 2011

Monday. I imagine a typical morning: light streaming into glass windows, snow softly falling, the aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen, the hiss of hot cooking oil in the pan. An alarm clock blares off. A man walks sleepily towards the shower. A little girl checks her art homework for the hundredth time before she dresses up for school. A young mother gazes at the baby in her arms. The father of the little girl does a final wipe of his car. The lady in the vegetable store in the corner waves at the newspaper man as he whizzes by in his bicycle. The recently-promoted executive adjusts his tie…

But in Sendai, these things did not happen this morning.

In this side of the world, we curse our clocks for announcing the rising of yet another hectic workday. Back to the daily grind. We dread Mondays. My coffee mug declares I don’t do Mondays!

We dread Mondays.

But what does this Monday mean for the people of Sendai, for the people of Japan?

It means dreams, hopes and lives wiped away or buried under rubbles that wordlessly express how fragile life is.

It means countless questions–of why’s and how come’s. It means raising one’s fists and cursing the heavens. It means falling down on one’s knees, hands clasped in deep prayer, in deep despair. It means waiting. And wondering. It means uttering the names of those one loves so dearly because that is all one can do. That is all that’s left…

What is next? Where will we be?

What do you do?

You live.

You live for them.

That is what the world owes them now.

Happy birthday, D! March 13, 2011

To a dear, dear friend,

Happy birthday!

We’ve known each other since third grade. We’ve gone through the usual roller-coaster ride one has with friends. After all these years, we’re still together, and it doesn’t matter that we don’t get to spend that much time with each other, because when we finally do, we know that what we share is true.

D is one of those friends whose company I constantly seek: she’s fun, adventurous, warm and wise. You can talk to her about anything under the sun. She’s always willing to listen. She never judges you. She never turns her back at you. And the best part is, she never ever makes you feel alone…

I’ve seen her in her best and worst moments over bottles of beer or cups of coffee. I’ve seen her cry, laugh, whine and rant. I’ve seen her care about her family, her friends, her beau. I’ve seen her walk down the aisle. I’ve seen her have fun with her little girl, and I know, that I will keep on seeing her being her marvelous self for more years to come.

Happy birthday, D!

The world is upside down… March 11, 2011

Floods, earthquakes. Not so long ago, New Zealand was struck. Today, it’s an 8.9 earthquake hits Tokyo causing a massive tsunami. The Philippines raised tsunami warnings, too.

Several weeks ago, Egypt had a revolution. Now, there’s  chaos in Libya. What’s next?

o0o0o0

I can’t really say thank God it’s Friday after what has just happened to Japan. But I’m grateful though for  a life that’s been kind to me especially for the past week. P’s back is better. Tere and I spoke and laughed together over the phone. My brother and I exchanged a few text messages. All that’s missing is a phone call to Mama, but all in all, life is kind, life is kind.

o0o0o0

In this part of the world, though, things have taken a different turn. It’s hard when you have all the best intentions, and yet there’s no way to help but somehow point a finger to the one at fault. It still boils down to one thing: leave people alone to their misery, or lives of illusion, if you don’t want them to hate you for putting up a mirror that makes them see the truth…So what do you do in the end? Just sit back and live in lies?

o0o0o0

Today PGG showed me his poems. I didn’t know he writes! The poems he’s written in class are usually insightful but I didn’t imagine him as a young man who would write poetry on his own! For one thing, he hates reading. I got the impression that he didn’t like writing, too. But there’s so much potential in him–so much drive for what he’s really passionate about. I hope this is the beginning of what I’ve been praying for a long time

My mission now is to look for THAT book that will finally make him interested in reading.

o0o0o0

Have a good weekend, Mrs. T!