I stood helplessly

as I watched time burn;

its dust motes trailing frailly.

I grasped hopelessly

as they drift,

grow faint,

and dissolve into nothingness.

I knelt desperately

on my knees,

dousing this inferno

but in vain.

Isang tasang malamig na gatas

Here's my first crappy flash fiction. Just thought I'd try my hand at it.

-----

“ALIS!”

Sinipa niya papalayo ang puting pusang tumabi sa kanya habang nakasalampak siya sa sahig ng kanyang kwarto. Ngumiyaw ang alagang pusa na tila galit at tumakbo papalayo. Habang hawak niya ang isang tasang puno ng mainit na gatas, hindi niya mapigil ang matang paulit-ulit na sumusulyap sa kanyang selpon na katabi rin niya sa sahig. Walang mensahe. Walang miscol. Isang oras. Dalawang oras. Wala pa rin. Lumalamig na ang isang tasang gatas na kanyang hawak ngunit ‘di niya parin ito iniinom. Hindi pa muna. Isang oras pang maghihintay. Isang oras na palugit.

Maya-maya’y nariyan nanaman ang alagang pusa ngunit ‘di na ito gaanong lumapit dahil sa nanlilisik na tingin ng kanyang amo. Nagtitigan lang sila ng matagal. Tumingin siyang muli sa kanyang selpon. Ala una na ng madaling araw. Wala parin. Napapikit at napakunot ang kanyang noo dahil sa galit. Naubos na ang pasensya. Unti-unti niyang inilapit sa mga labi ang isang tasang malamig na gatas.

Beep Beep.

Ilang sentimetro nalang ang layo ng tasa sa kanyang bibig nang marinig niya ang pagdating ng isang mensahe sa kanyang selpon. Dali niyang ibinaba ang tasang agad nilapa ng gutom na alagang pusa.

“Xenxa na, naun lang q reply. Nalowbat ako.”

Nakahinga siya ng maluwag at napangiti. Agad siyang tumayo mula sa pagkakasalampak sa sahig at tinapik ng marahan ang ulo ng alagang pusang lumalapa sa kanyang isang tasang malamig na gatas. Ilang sandali pang pagpipindot sa selpon at siya’y napapapikit narin sa antok. Sa huling sandali, bago manaig ang mabigat na talukap ng kanyang mga mata, napansin niyang ‘tila nakatulog narin ang kanyang alagang pusa sa tabi ng tasa na ngayo’y kalahati na lamang ang laman.

----

Thoughts? Comments? Violent reactions? :))

The Journalist's Code of Ethics

I've been reading this book, Pieces of my Mind by Andrew Rooney. It's a compilation of his essays, giving us a piece of his mind about everything.

I came across one of his essays titled The Journalist's Code of Ethics and, although I'm not a journalist (I have some journalist friends, though), I want to share it with everyone because it really is insightful.

---

    To what standards do newsmen and women adhere and how should everyone be made to adhere to them?

   It is unlikely that reporters and editors are any more or less honest and ethical than doctors but I envy doctors their Hippocratic Oath, the creed they swear to when they become physicians. It's a little our of date but it has a grandeur to it that is timeless.

   "I swear by Apollo, the physician," it begins.

   That's not much of a beginning, but it improves even though it need rewriting.

   The Hippocratic Oath asks the young doctor to take care of the physician who taught him as he would take care of his own parents. Most young reporters don't feel all that kindly toward the editors who taught them their profession.

   The Hippocratic Oath also asks the young doctor to do only what is right for his patients and to do nothing that is wrong. He promises to give no patient deadly medicine and not to induce an abortion for any pregnant woman.

   The young doctor promises not to seduce any males or females and not to reveal any secrets.

   If journalists had an oath of their own, it would differ from the doctor's.

   The journalist certainly wouldn't start by swearing to Apollo and probably not even to Walter Lippmann or Ed Murrow. The Oath should be simple and direct. I was thinking of some things that ought to be in it.

   Here are some suggestions for "The Journalist's Code of Ethics":

• The word "journalist" is a little pompous and I will only use it on special occasions.
• I am a journalist because I believe that if all the world had all the facts about everything, it would be a better world.
• I understand that the facts and the truth are not always the same. It is my job to report the facts so that others can decide on the truth.
• I will not try to tell people what they ought to know and avoid telling them what they want to hear, except when the two coincide, which isn't often.
• I will not do deliberate harm to any persons, except to the extend that the facts harm them and then I will not avoid the facts.
• No gift, including kind words, will be accepted when it is offered for the purpose of influencing my report.
• What I wish were the facts will not influence what investigation leads me to believe them to be.
• I will be suspicious of every self-interested source of information.
• My professional character will be superior to my private character.
• I will not use my profession to help or espouse any cause, nor alter my report for the benefit of any cause, no matter how worthy that cause may appear to be.
• I will not reveal the source of information given to me in confidence.
• I will not drink at lunch.

   It needs work but it's a start on an oath for reporters and editors.

---

Alone

 Ayesah Tecson

Summer unfolds itself

outside

but it is winter in my heart.

I long for the day

when, once again,

our hands would

reach out

and embrace each other,

while our hearts

 find peace

and warmth

in the other’s rhythm.

I miss you

like the flower

misses the sun

on a cold and dark

lonely night;

all along, wishing

dawn would break,

in hopes of seeing

the sun smiling down at her,

lifting her spirits,

making her heart soar.

My thoughts on the true goal of education

“Tita, may project po kami sa TLE [Auntie, we have a project for TLE].”

“Anung project yan? [What kind of project is that?]”

“10 pesos po.”

“Anung 10 pesos? [What do you mean 10 pesos?]”

“Sabi po kasi nila magbayad nalang po kami ng 10 pesos para di na kami mahirapan sa pagresearch [They told us that we should just pay 10 pesos so we wouldn’t have to be burdened by researching].”

                I’d like to say I was shocked, but then I’d be lying. I’ve gone through the same process back in high school. Teachers asked us to contribute a certain amount of money instead of going through a tedious and difficult assignment, in order to accomplish a requirement in school. Back then, I was only too eager to just pay up. After all, why should I break my back on some project when I can just spare a few bills, sit back and relax, right?  Well, now, knowing what I know, I’m not so happy about it anymore. In fact, it irritates me that nowadays, teachers are so glaringly conspicuous in stirring students to laziness. Sure, it’s a shortcut to a grade of 90 or 95 even, but grades are so over-rated. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t be concerned about the grades we get, but in the end, they’re just numbers. In my opinion, the true goal of education should not be about getting the highest numbers on your report card, but about getting the most out of the hardships and painstaking labor that goes with schooling.

To teachers: 

          Being a teacher is not the easiest job in the world. In fact, students, myself included, often underestimate how truly difficult it is to be in front of 40 or so expectant young ones, who think of you as an all-knowing shaman extraordinaire. 

                When I was a kid, I thought all teachers did were talk in front, check quizzes without a care, and more importantly, torture students. Now, I know, those are easier said than done. You don’t just talk in front; you mentally prepare yourself by extensively educating yourself about the subject matter, practicing answering questions that you anticipate the students, who are more often sharper than you, may challenge. You practice and practice talking in front of the mirror, hoping that the nervousness you’re feeling won’t show half as much as what you are actually feeling inside so that you won’t look incompetent to your students. You don’t just check quizzes; you give up most of your social life, and sometimes dinner, just to sit and go through exams, hoping that your students get high scores so that you’ll know that you were effective and that they actually learned something from you. You spend late-night hours going through papers, trying to decipher you students’ handwritings which look more like hieroglyphs. You don’t torture students, although sometimes it feels like a good idea; you challenge their capabilities in order to hone their critical thinking. You give them not-so-average problems or tasks so that when they succeed, they’ll grow more, intellectual wise. Everything you do, you do it for their own good, although most of the time, your efforts come off as persecution rather than the other way around. 

                 It is a very, very physically and mentally draining job that sometimes, it feels like a good idea to just let your students take the easy way around projects, so that you also, won’t have to take a rough time in checking. Sometimes, it’s tempting to just let them pay their way through an A. But, really, can your conscience take the fact that, in doing so, you’re robbing them of the chance to mentally grow by themselves and of the opportunity to prepare themselves for the infinitely more grueling undertakings ahead? Would you really compromise your chosen position as a teacher, as a molder of minds, just for a few hours of leisure?

To students: 

              As teenagers, especially those still in high school, you feel as though school is prison, and the classroom is your jail cell. You think that going to the mall or playing computer games all day are the things that you should be doing instead of homework. You think that going to school is just a waste of time and the things you learn in it are things that you would never use in real life anyway. Trust me; you’re missing the whole point. True, in the future, unless you’re a mathematician, a scientist or a teacher, cosines won’t help you put food on the table; knowledge of the hypotenuse won’t pay for your rent; and knowing what photosynthesis is won’t pay for your bills. But, I believe that the whole point of learning all that trivia is not to memorize what they mean or do but to develop a critical mind in the process. I mean, come on, learning how to solve for x isn’t easy. You won’t get it, ‘till blood comes out of your nose. But those hemorrhage-inducing tests serve as practice for your brain. Like a well-sharpened axe, these tests keep you on the ball, alert and quick-witted. Like a well-oiled machine, these lessons keep you quick on your toes and astute. Believe me; if you’re planning on being successful in life, you’re going to need that in the future.

                  School is never easy. In life, nothing is ever easy. You high school students think you got it rough, wait ‘till you go to college. I remember my first two years as a college student. The unbelievable amount of work we had to go through was a bit shocking to me. I wasn’t trained enough in high school to handle this amount of work, not to mention research, research and more research. I had it easy before, all I had to do was pay up or copy from my classmates. I found out, you can’t do that in college anymore (or at least, not in the college I attend at). So it’s best that you take up the training you get in high school, even if it feels like your head might explode and your body might go limp, because in the end, everything will be for your own good. It might sound cliché, but really, it can’t get any simpler than that.

It really is true what they say: there is no such thing as a shortcut to happiness.

Letter from an Unborn Child

Mommy,

I like growing inside your tummy. I love it here. I’m always surrounded by warmth. I feel safe. I can also hear and feel your heart beating. I love hearing it. It makes me feel closer to you still. But, sometimes, your heart would start beating fast. I can tell something is bothering you. You’re scared and worried. It makes me worry, too. I don’t want you to be scared, mommy. I want you to be happy. I can’t wait to fully develop and get out into the world so I could comfort you in any way I could. I can’t speak yet so instead, I would hold your finger even if my hands were still tiny. I would smile at you so you would feel happy and smile, too. I would pour out my love to you by looking into your eyes. I would do everything, anything, so you would never be scared ever again.

I guess you were thinking the same thing because one day, you went to the doctor and asked him to take me out. I wasn’t ready but it’s ok, I wanted to see you and take your boo-boos away. I was feeling happy and excited. Finally, I get to see my mommy! But then, you were crying. I don’t know why. Maybe you were scared that something might go wrong. Don’t worry, mommy, everything’s going to be fine. I could feel your hands rubbing your tummy so I held out my hand to touch you from inside. You must’ve felt it because then, you cried even harder. Hush now, mommy, don’t cry! I will be out soon, and we’ll be together at last. We’ll watch the sun rise together. We’ll look at the fluffy clouds. We’ll listen to the rain. We’ll be together with daddy, one big happy family! But, what’s this? There’s a sharp, pointed object here inside with me. It’s cold and it’s scary. Something’s not right. Ouch! It’s hurting me, mommy! I’m scared! Oww! It cut my hand! Mommy! It hurts so bad! Help me, please! Tell the doctor he’s doing it wrong! OUCH! This thing is cutting me to pieces! MOMMY! Help me! Mommy! Mommy..! mommy… mommy.. mom..

I guess, I finally got my wish. I’m out in the world. The doctor took me out, but I’m not whole. I’m in pieces. I’m weak and numb and dying. I’m sorry I can’t make it, mommy. I’m sorry we can’t ever watch the sun or the clouds together. I’m sorry we can’t listen to the rain. I’m sorry I won’t ever get to meet daddy. But you’ll be happy now. You won’t get worried anymore. Before I go, mommy, I want you to know that I love you from the moment I heard your heart beating ‘till the moment mine stopped. And I’ll keep loving you forever, even after that. Tell daddy I love him, too, even if I didn’t get to see him. Don’t cry now, mommy, I’ll be fine. I won’t ever forget you. You will always be my mommy.

With eternal, selfless love,

Your unborn child.

wherever i looked, there was a story i had to tell...

You know those people who start something and then never finish it? I'm one of them. That's exactly the reason why it took me this long to finally have the courage to start my own blog. I had a few tries, and always end up just finishing the layout and never adding a single post. I was always afraid that i didn't have anything to say that's worth reading. but now, i'm taking the risk. It doesn't matter if this blog won't become popular, what matters is that i am able to get my story, my messages, through. Besides, "writing is like any other artistic discipline. it takes practice. (leslea newman)" This blog will serve exactly that; a space where i can vent, express my thoughts and hopefully, touch somebody's heartstrings.

"I became a writer because i was a writer, because wherever i looked there was a story i had to tell. (Howard Fast)"