Destination Unknown

Someone once told me that an action, no matter how small, can lead to tremendous consequences. There were forest fires started by a mere litter of not-quite-extinguished cigarette butts. There were stalagmites that tumbled down by a mere echo that lingered a second to long. There were massacres that started by a mere dispute between a government official and a cigarette vendor. There were human rights movements that began by a mere middle-aged colored woman who insisted on not leaving the seat for white folks.

Greg Mortensen is a man who saw his small act turn to something greater. Written by journalist David Oliver Relin, Three Cups of Tea is a moving, nonfictional account of Greg, whose failed attempt to summit K2 eventually led him to start humanitarian projects. Resting at an unknown village of Korphe after his descend from Karakoram Range, he saw that the children there had no means to receive formal education, so he promised to build a school to repay for the kindness people of Korphe gave him. Fulfilling that promise would also mark the beginning of a new path of his life, as he sets on his still-active mission to intrepidly build schools for other underdeveloped provinces of Pakistan and, later, Afghanistan.

The book’s story, with enough twists to make it a good movie, is wonderful enough. It’s its resounding theme of love and compassion that elevates it a K2 higher than just entertainment. Challenging subject matters that come so naturally when taking about Islam are never shunned, and once you’ve finished reading it you might start lamenting on how misguided Americans are about Muslims. Equal parts hopeful and horrifying, you’ll glance at how badly Muslims are bullied, both by Taliban and by the west. You’ll see how they are forced by extremists to study in schools that teach nothing - not physics, math or whatever languages - but the most hateful interpretations of Koran. You’ll see how underprivileged women are. And Greg, in his building of schools, reveals that the better way in which the battle against terror should be fought is by giving Muslims and their women the right to actual education that they have long been denied of. It breaks the stereotypes of Muslims as being combative, declaring that they want peace and order just as much as all of us do. It also shows how neglected they are, that they have never received the aids and funds promised to them by Americans and Russians whom have taken their turns to rule Afghanistan for no other reason than to prove the firepower of democracy or communism.

Go read this book, and it’s about time we see Muslims as we see ourselves: that, like us, they deserve neither to be bombed by the hypocritical administrations that should’ve long overgrown their jingoistic cowboy fantasies masqueraded as “heroism”, nor to be spilled racist diatribes by FOKKKS, excuse me, FOX news.

…but before that, I just might update my friendster blog more often these days. It seems the friendster team has enhanced it a bit and I’m gonna see if this new blogging service is any good.

Now to begin, this is in chronological order, top being the earliest and bottom being the latest:

Empty Barrels. This happens whenever I take the bus home: The TV is on and is tuned to a local TV station (more often GMA than ABS). I’m not a fan of whatever show the TV plays, but whenever it takes its break, I squirm. I have to suffer through another batch of advertisements. Why is this bad? Because I will, without a doubt, get to see barrages of pointless government propagandas. (read)

Jade Visions. “Pull over!” signaled the cop. (read)

The Journey Home is Where the Hatred is. When going home from work I don’t usually pass by SM Megamall, but yesterday I was there because I needed to buy something. If I was to go home by my usual route, I had to walk 20 minutes from SM Megamall to the side opposite of Robinson’s Galleria. I was tired then and wasn’t willing to do all that walking, so I decided to take another way home. Since there was a Metro Rail Transit (MRT) nearby, I went there thinking that the train would get me home faster and - don’t laugh - with less stress. (read)

In Cold Blood. Here’s something you can do just for kicks: Go to a coffee shop (preferably Starbucks). Approach any customer, but try to choose the ones who look like those pretending to be so well-read. Tell them you’ve been reading a book called In Cold Blood (by Truman Capote), and that it’s about to get a film adaptation soon (a lie), and that it has detectives, serial killers, conspiracies, spies, narrow escapes, hot sexes, car chases, big boobied and quick witted women, martial arts, gadgets, and boozes. Make sure you’ve got some extra copies of the book with you. But, change the cover, and make it look like the airport reads Dan Brown’s books are. Paste images of eyes, running guys, binaries, bloods, guns, and torn objects. Show the extra copies, and say you’re selling them. Now watch them sell by the bucketloads, and laugh as you imagine the buyers’ horror-suffused faces when they finally find out what the book is really about. (read)

I View the Morning with Such Alarm. I woke up uncharacteristically early. I had to, because I was home, and I need an hour to go back to my office and wait for all of my coworkers. We have to be here 3:45, and by 4:00 AM, we’ll be going outside the city and will stay outside the city for 3 days. (read)

Black Boy, and the Way of the Shepherd. I’ve finished a couple of books this past couple of days. (read)

Galera Galera. My cold may have something to do with this, but I was not contented about our company’s Puerto Galera (PG) outing. I had fun, on occasions. I thought some of the places we went to were great. But for a vacation, this just wasn’t revitalizing enough, as I didn’t feel my stress go away as I would when I go elsewhere. Someone I like was missing too, and… well, nevermind that. (read)

You Just Don’t Think. I did not want to attack anyone, and I believe that others who read that post knew that my intent was not to discredit. I wrote to chronicle, and to inform about what Galera is like. (read)

A Need to be Hungry. This title is not directed to starved countries - and that includes the Philippines, as much as the government want to delude you into believing otherwise. By all means, feed the hungry until the hunger goes away. (read)

A Need to be Hungry, the Reprise. Have you ever seen a cat taking a very erect stance as it anticipates for something? An unsuspecting mouse comes out and, as quickly as a blink, this cat starts pouncing on the mouse which has now become a prey? That cat’s intensity and ferocity are what I need. Right now, I feel less like a cat and more like a sheep that’s become enervated from eating wilted grasses. (read)

Suckered In. Hunger have begun to come back to me few days after I whined about its absence. Although I still haven’t been as much of a pig as I used to - a pig who manages not to be that fat, oy - I’ve feasted on curry last wednesday and on pizza yesterday. And that felt fine. (read)

Batman. I’m weary of the excess of movies based on comics, but I want to see The Dark Knight. I’m so stoked about The Dark Knight, I’m avoiding from watching its trailer again, because everytime I do so I cry, “can’t July come any sooner!” I’m not young, and wishing time to fast forward isn’t good for my well-being. (read)

My Favorite Things. I’m not really in the mood to compose anything elaborate, coz, bloody hell, that can be sooo tedious, and I’m trying to let some topics (nothing overly serious, though) marinate for a while. (read)

This Side Isn’t Paradise. I’ve been outside of Philippines and I see that, generally, our people are happier than anywhere else’s. I’m just unsure of if our kind of happiness is still conducive to progress. (read)

Progress Report. When 2008 began, one of the goals I set for myself was to finish 1 book per week. That means that when this year ends, I have to be done with 52 books. So how am I doing, now that we’re at the 27th week of 2008? (read)

All Your Bookstore Are Belong To Bust. There are days when I can’t stand spending another minute at home, but yesterday afternoon, I really didn’t want to go out. So when my brother asked me to go to Tutuban with him, I kept yelling “GO ALONE!” at him. (read)

What is Love? Having a spectacularly boring day, I decided to be at the crazy ridiculous mode (as if I ever functioned in other modes, noh?) and flood my instant messenger contacts with this question: What is love? (read)

A View from the Top. I haven’t seen a blue morning sky for a long time now, as when June began the sky has become covered all over with clouds. We are having a rainy season, and that’s why Ortigas, Pasig City - as can be viewed outside - looks like it is covered with steams. And by how, I love this sight! With clouds obstructing the skyline, Ortigas doesn’t appear warm; it appears detached. I get reminded of film noirs, where cities are as smoky as jazz bars and as gray as its denizen’s moral ambiguity. I can then fancy myself as the city’s vigilante, leaping from building to building, walking stealthily from one dank alley to another, extracting information from moles, driving Cadillac, saving damsels, and fighting criminals until I die. (read)

Schmanniversary. By July 16, 2008, this nightdreamer blog will be a year old. Is that significant? No. (read)

Whisper of the Heart. Sorry, got nothing to write about today. I just wanted to share this music video from one of my favorite feel-good animes of all time. It’s a Japanese rendition of a John Denver’s song (Take Me Home Country Roads) done with an entirely different lyrics, and it’s very heartfelt. (read)

Soul Food. I have also opened up to people who I didn’t speak with for the longest time - I have actually went out of my limb and I have called my best friend from high school. We used to live in a province and he was my neighbor, but when I moved to Manila to get my college degree, we didn’t see each other much. I hadn’t spoken with him for years already, and today I decided that rather than hanging on to all these pent-up guilts for neglecting him, I called him just to talk to him. It’s good to hear from a friend again after all these years. (read)

Soul Food Part 2. You wake up greeted by a dandy daytime. The weather feels windy enough to ease up the stresses of the peripatetic. You predict that this must be one of those days when everything is beautiful and is convenient. But, by how, you soon find your expectations massively unfulfilled. Rain starts pouring torrentially. Traffic congestion hinders you from coming to school or to work on time. Your umbrella breaks because the wind becomes unmanageably strong. Your superiors bark on you for your tardiness. Your socks become soggy, your clothes soaked, and your bag and everything inside it drenched. Everything starts taking a turn for the worse. The day has been cruel to you and it’s beyond salvaging. Raise your hands if you’ve had one of those days. Actually, I think everyone has had them. (read)

Open Palm, Drop Face. I made a fool of myself today. I said, “pupunta ako sa powerpoint mall.” (translation: I’m going to powerpoint mall)

The Red Knight. What is a beso-beso? It’s a Filipino word, and it’s one of our ways to greet (and I don’t know if people from other countries do that). It’s like kissing, but instead of lips-to-lips it is cheek-to-cheek, and as such is more casual than romantic. So when people ask you to give them a beso-beso, they’re less likely to mean that they want to sleep with you than when they ask you to kiss them. (read)

Nightdreamer Under Interrogation. I was going to update this blog with something more worthy of read, but I’ve been lazy, and time has been going by too fast. Last few days I’ve been doing nothing else but curl up on my own bed and read both 100 Years of Solitude and 1984. Been reading rather slowly these days too as too many thoughts have been bothering me - I’m going to Taiwan next week and I can’t help being excited. (read)

A Dark Victory. So, the review… nope, that’s not coming along well at all. I’m sure you’ve had this feeling of being so impressed by a movie that you could never write coherently about it. Well, that’s just what I had gone through after seeing The Dark Knight twice. I even told another friend (I do seem to talk about my friends a great deal today, noh?) to watch The Dark Knight thrice, and then to buy its bootlegged DVD, and then its original DVD, and then its original DVD with extended cuts. Yeah, as it is, I’m already having a frustrating time quelling this overenthusiastic voice that I’m using now. (read)

Tomorrow. In less than 24 hours, I’ll be at the airport again, going through the complicated processes of boarding a flight. Again, I will be alone in this trip. Again, I will withstand the screechy engine noises of the airplane. Again, I’ll be eating airplane food. Again, I’ll scan the flight attendants to see if I, err, can see familiar faces. Again, I’ll either fall asleep or watch crappy blockbuster movies they play onboard. Again, I’ll try to tune in to Mandarin Pop Station only to find all the songs bland. Again, I’ll try to write something down while in the flight cabin, but only to scrawl incoherently. Again, I’ll be flying north until I reach Taipei, Taiwan. (read)

A Week In Taiwan, Part 1: Shuangshi. My grandfather lives in a province, so I went there just to see him. Right now, he’s at the throes of a cancer, and, after not having seen each other for more than 2 years, I paid him a visit with the intent of lifting his spirits up in my little way. I’m sure you don’t want to hear all these dramas, so I’ll just go on to tell you what his province is like. It’s called Shuangshi, which is the Chinese for “Two Rivers”. True to its namesake, there are two rivers here and somewhere in this town they come to a confluence. Rumor has it that the exact place where the two meets is haunted, but I never bothered to find out. All I know is that they’re very calming to look at, and you can do some fishing and swimming on them. But rivers aren’t all there is to Shuangshi. There are mountains too. Shuangshi is altogether an ideal place to reconnect with mother nature, especially if you’re tired of Taipei’s frantic ways of living. It’s also a good place to bike. (read and look at the pictures!)

A Week in Taiwan, Part 2: Synergy. In Taipei, at the underground tunnels leading to subway stations, one can often see pedestrians - wearing busy if not dour expressions - walking briskly and fast, like they’re bent to, without delay, go someplace. Brummagem wares are ignored, bums are not spared any penny, and street musicians are paid no mind. But on one Sunday, July 27th of 2008, something strange happened inside the tunnels. Suddenly, people were not dashing out as fast as they could; but they were converging on a particularly noisy spot. They looked fascinated. They were watching singers and dancers from Utah who had come to perform all over Taiwan. Songs are sung, dances are danced, hands are clapped, and cheers are yelled. Synergy, as the group is called, was on a mission to inspire everyone with music, and this was the first day. (read and look at the pictures!)

A Week in Taiwan, Part 3: Snippings. Some points of observations and some snippets of the things that happened when I was in Taiwan… (read)

These Foolish Things Remind Me of You. The dark and stormy evenings have taken their departures for now, but to me, they departed just a night too late. Seems like my body was ill prepared for going from a country (Taiwan) that’s having its summer season to another (Philippines) that’s having its rainy season. At Wednesday, I was sneezing like mad. By Thursday, I had to skip work to keep this cold from escalating to a fever. (read)

Mess About. I am getting annoyed! For the past two weeks, I have done nothing. Zero, that big fat oval bigger than the nothingness it signifies. Okay, so maybe I have done a few trifling chores, but I don’t think I’ve done deeds that contributes to the world’s greater good, or even just my own. (read)

Visions. I’ll tell you why nerds like me want you to give science fiction a chance. It’s true that we are obsessed with seeing epic battles comprised of spaceships, laser guns and lightsabers. It’s true that we geek out when we see what technological marvels we may have in the future. It’s true for some of us that we drool when we see women wearing body-hugging spacesuits. Yes, we like all those very much, but they’re not enough reasons for us to endure as fans of sci-fi. We endure because of sci-fi’s visions. You see, many sci fis create worlds that, while having their own rules, maintain semblances to our real world. Within such premises, then, sci fis challenge us to think of how our world may become like their worlds. They then ask us if we can do something to either ensure or prevent such thing from happening; and should we have to live in a world like theirs, they guide us on how we can survive. (read)

Born to Run. Once upon a time and such a good time that it was there was a guy who called himself Nightdreamer and this guy who called himself Nightdreamer often had too much spare time and because he had too much spare time he wrote on this blog to fend off his boredom. (read)

One Day in Makati. Normally, the idea of going to First Academy of Computer Arts (FACA) is like visiting a university I’ve graduated from. My visit to FACA yesterday, however, was unlike those days when I would go to my university just to loaf around while wallowing in nostalgia. I went there with a purpose, fully intent to have that dealt with lickety-split, and without scanning to see if anyone I knew was there so that I could high-five with them and pretend that we were so thrilled by this sort of accidental meeting. I want my only goal to be met quickly. Professionally. No digression. Without commotion. Yes, I was (still am) busy. Couldn’t stay too long. I’ve completed my final project since nearly half a year ago, and I’ve since been waiting to get the certificate that recognizes me as a student who has indeed completed his course. My classmate got his certificate last week, and because we both submitted our project the same day, I thought mine should be ready. I was wrong, a conclusion thoroughly predictable from my way of writing. People working in FACA told me that I had to sign a request form if I want to get a certificate. I was befuddled. How inefficient! Shouldn’t my final project be enough a hint of my wanting to get a certificate? What other reasons could I have for submitting that? (read)

This morning I have managed to free myself momentarily from a lot of busywork that I had to deal with throughout these past 3 weeks. So I reckoned: what better topics to post a blog about but those 5 books I read a week ago? A few posts back, I mentioned being lent 5 books by a friend, who then insisted that I return them after a week. Slogging through all those books was not easy, but I had them dealt with after 10 days (after I doggedly pleaded to him to give me 3 days more. You’ll find out later which of the book slowed down my reading the most). I will tell you now if they are good and worth picking up.

I started with Mockingbird by Walter Tevis. It is common to read a review that bemoans how underappreciated Mockingbird is, and I wouldn’t have heard of it had I not been paying attention to SF Masterworks series of, well, sci-fi masterworks. The story takes place in a future where the world is ruled by robots, and humans do nothing but drug themselves. Spofforth, one of the 3 protagonists, is the most intelligent machine in existence. He is sad as he watches humans lose literacy, the ability to bear children, and the ability to have emotional connections with anyone. Despondent, his only goal in his life is to die. He then comes into contact with a person who has learned how to read and has shown the will to improve such skill. It’s when such person rediscovers the meaning of reading that everyone realizes that there may still be hope.

I often read scifi, and though I love that genre, I dislike its tendency to belabor its philosophies while neglecting the characterizations (Isaac Asimov’s Foundation is very guilty of this). That distracts me, because I believe that novels cannot successfully deliver its message when their characters are unidentifiable. Thankfully, though Mockingbird’s speculation of the future and the caution that comes with it are very powerful, its characters are its finest points, because you really get to know what they dream of, how they change, what they believe in, and how they live.

I then read Ursula Le Guin’s Lathe of Heaven, which also has good character developments but maybe not as great as Mockingbird’s. It, however, has a very thought-provoking plot: when dreaming – and by dreaming I mean what you unconsciously do while you’re sleeping – George Orr can alter reality. Horrified by such powers, he went to a psychotherapist named Dr. William Haber, in hopes to find a way to cure his special condition. Haber has other plans, though. At first he was using the dreams to advance his careers, but later on he starts to use it for something bigger. Orr opposes Haber’s goals; why he opposes is the book’s high point, because that’s where the story unveils as a study on ethics and an analysis of what it’s like when someone plays God.

By the way, mention the author’s name to any scifi nuts and, chances are, you’ll get some lively responses. I’m quite embarrassed to admit that this is the first Ursula book I’ve read (and if you can suggest her other works, please do so).

Something Wicked This Way Comes is not the first Ray Bradbury’s book I’ve read, though. My first encounter with his work is through Fahrenheit 451, which I consider as one of the best books there is. When I started Something Wicked… I thought I was going to like it too, and now that I’m done with it, all I can say is that I want more of 451 and less of Something Wicked. I liked the setting – hey, it’s about a haunted carnival! – and I liked what it tried to say - as a bildungsroman with a horror twist, Something Wicked… messages about what makes us fearful made sense. What I didn’t like is the way it was written. Instead of reading like a story, Something Wicked…read more like an author rollicking with words as a dog would rollick in mud. That could’ve worked for other kinds of stories, but not for horror, as I found its language more comical than horrifying. I would’ve liked it more had the story been more straightforward. Even at less than 300 pages this book dragged.

Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes… well, what’s there to say that your high school teacher hasn’t already said? I was among the unfortunate students of a school that never required us to read this book, and I assume that most of you have already read it, so I’ll make this short: Flowers for Algernon is about a dumb person who wants to make himself better, so he volunteers to be the first human test subject for a brain operation that has made a mouse extraordinarily smart. Is the book any good? Well, for me, if a work of fiction succeeds in making me feel sympathy for its characters, then it is a winner, and in that respect, Flowers is a winner (I probably have to write a post that expands my opinion of this book, but at the moment I’m getting worn out from all the writing and the summarizing).

The last and the easiest book, is Coraline by Neil Gaiman. It’s such a light read that it took me merely an hour to finish, and I can’t say I was too satisfied. The author has a penchant for writing stories about people who go from our world to another, more magical world, and after Neverwhere, Stardust and Coraline I think it’s beginning to get old. Unlike the first two, however, Coraline is billed as a children’s story, and is, literally, much closer to home. The titular girl lives in a house, and in this house there’s a door that leads to a place where there is an alternate version of the house and its inhabitants. Once again, I was won over by the synopsis, but when I read it all the way through I felt cold about it. I find it funny that Coraline’s weak points are Something Wicked’s strong points, and that the opposite is also true. While I wanted Something Wicked to be more straightforward, I wanted Coraline to be a bit more roundabout. As it is Coraline just come off as a book that appears allegorical, only to finish too soon that whatever profound messages it has is never explored.