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Showing posts from April, 2010



Pasensya na po at natagalan . . . . Ninais ko po sana na . . . may mga kasagutan o kaya'y panibagong kaalaman na maibabahagi o maitatanong sa inyo. Ngunit sa pag-umpisa na ng summer classes ay mukhang hindi madali ang magkaroon ng pagkakataon upang muling makapag-isip at mamilosopiya.

Ang maibabahagi ko po lamang ay noong binasa ko ang aklat ni Paulo Coelho na Brida noong aking dalawang linggong bakasyon, nakita ko rin doon ang ilan sa mga napag-usapan natin sa klase tungkol sa pag-ibig at paghahanap ng kahulugan ng buhay. Mas naging nakakatuwa basahin 'yung aklat noong nakakita na ako ng mga konsepto na nagamit din natin sa klase. Pilosopo po ba si Coelho? o sadyang ang mga konsepto ng pilosopiya ay lumalabas lamang kahit na hindi sinasadya, at ang hinihingi lamang nito ay ang mag-isip ang tao at mula sa kaniyang pag-iisip at pagtatanong ay magpapakita ang mga konsepto na tila alam na nating lahat ngunit natutunan lamang muli.

What had struck him then was how few objects there were
in his house. The necessary--never had a word been better
illustrated. When his mother lived in one of the rooms,
she left no trace, if anything, a handkerchief.

Camus, Notebooks 1951-1959

I plan on tidying up the physical spaces I inhabit and work in next week. I figure that if I am to move on and get things done I should start with my surroundings, which are the basic preconditions of productivity and creativity, peace and tranquility. I resolve to once again follow my mother's three-step fix yourself plan: I will cut my hair, clean my room, fix my life. I'd be crossing out the first item next Monday. But that is the easy part.

Though I have started backing-up my computers in an attempt to archive what could (in my head) be worth saving for reasons I cannot as yet divine, I am already getting a headache just thinking of all the papers in hard copy that I have to sort out in this room, what my father refers to as--rather und…


Freud said that regression, the reversion or retreat to an earlier, more childish manner of thinking or behaving, is a defense mechanism one employs so as to avoid, delay or diminish one's anxiety or the difficulties that confront an adult. Instead of facing grownup problems in a grownup manner, you may, for instance, think or act childishly to push back these worries into the unconscious, keeping them away from you at the present.

Translation: Since it's always easier to be a child, we escape adulthood by becoming one again.

I didn't imagine Mr. Freud could read me so well. At the turn of a new decade in this life, I realized I may have decided upon doing things that do not seem to be concrete steps toward "maturity"--but can one really ever say he or she is "mature"?--but may lead me back to a an age or a place I have been before. While my avowed secrecy and shyness prevent me from detailing these choices and decisions here, I'll mention one thing …


Here comes the silence once again, doubtless an anticipatory one, as if setting the stage for the first though few important words that will be said and must be heard. Everything depends on the beginning, and at the beginning silence reigns--necessarily.


I had hoped for this day to come.

But as with all things that matter, what you hope for also paralyzes you with anxiety. Anxiety is not only anxious of what gives us worry--this examination, that uncertainty--but also of what excites us--this blind date or that party. That nameless "mixed" emotion, so honestly phrased, is what gives us anxiety: you do not know what to feel but you surely feel something, you do not know which side to take so you move to and fro without rest because without place.

Hence this walking around, dilly-dallying, and nervous chatter because I do not know what to say right now.



Camus loved all his summers, when everything is possible and nothing is forbidden. No other better time to take a vow or…


And those who wept could not see
how a King could die so easily


Andrea Mantegna, "The Lamentation over the Dead Christ" c. 1490