Saturday-anticipated-Catholic- mass

I been attending Saturday anticipated mass for more than a year now. It is a late afternoon mass advancing parishioner’s Sunday-mass attendance. I don’t know why I stopped attending Sunday masses. Not that I’m avoiding some Sunday-people, but I guess just a matter of convenience. Weekends are lazy days of indulgence, and one of them is to be late on bed. Sunday mass is best if it you can attend the morning gatherings. Since indulging on lazy rituals prevented me from Sunday-mornings, I ended up attending the late mass on the afternoon. And making-up on Sunday-afternoons is like finishing a newspaper about a news-less day.

Since attending the anticipated mass, I notice something special on how the mass is celebrated. If you arrive 15 minutes earlier, the head priest will be on the altar, practicing the hymns and encouraging the people to sing with the choir. Sometimes, I’m not sure if he is scolding the choir for singing hymns that are difficult to follow , or the people for not singing with the choir. The choir sings very well, and can make easy rendition of difficult pieces. But blaming them may be too sly. At times, he reminds the parishioners the cost of projector if it will not help mass singing

http://www.flickr.com/photos/taiwanray/1221912480/

The priest has the right to complain if people do not sing during the mass. Firstly, singing hymns is praying. And secondly, it is participation. If I don’t sing, I don’t pray and, don’t participate. This made me ask, why do people don’t sing hymns during the mass. Are the pieces too tough to follow? Or there is already a choir that does the singing for them? Or simply they do not know the significance of mass singing?

The third question is easy to answer. Priest had already addressed its significance. The first, I think is easy too. With the popularity of sing-a-long during parties and social occasions, singing hymns are peanuts. This brings me to the second question, does the presence of choir hold-back mass singing? This is tricky. But I will tell you a story:

Years ago, in my hometown in Obando, Bulacan, I attended a children mass when the youth’s choir sounded anything but in-unison. Their dissonant voices filled the church hall, and the parishioners were uneasy. Many gave the choir a bemused look and that made its members to bow their heads and hide their faces. The priest, which were then too old, did not bother to care. Age may had stolen some of his spiritual fire, looming to existentialist resignation. But parishioners did care how the hymns were sung. Knowing that the choir could not relied upon to sing their beautiful hymns, they started to sing and join-in, guiding the choir how the hymns to be sang. This made the parishioners to pitch-in, making each hymn to be alive with different voices singing. The church was alive, and the old priest, as if awaken from half-sleep, amazed at people participating to his mass, guessing that he might said something really good during his sermon.

The lesson is: bad choir made parishioners sing. So the answer to the second question is pretty obvious. Good choir singing beautiful hymns is enjoyable to listen to. For parishioners to pitch-in and spoil the beautiful choir’s rendition may not be a good idea at all. Specially for us Filipinos, putting high premium to beautiful music.

Start: 9:53 pm November 9 Sunday
End: 12:12am November 15 Saturday
@ home, Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental, Philippines

Obama-President elect

Today, I may say would be a disturbing day. Obama won the presidential election, and it leaves a sour taste on the tongue. On the good side, Democrats seem to be better economist than the GOP and this may eventually help US economy and the world to escape the credit-pit. But it may also worsen. Since, it was the during the time of Clinton that the whole financial tsunami began, specifically, when Allan Greenspan headed the Feds.

I never been a liberal myself, possibly because of my age. Older people are likely to be conservative than liberal. And Obama's liberal, and I dont support him.

I heard that demographically, 68% adults supported McCain, while, 98% younger people , possibly 18 to 20 years of age, gone to Obama. With the large turn-out, reaching upto 130 to 150 million, the younger people votes played an important role to Obama's lead. But reviewing how each state voted, the proportions of the vote were very close, closely resembling 50/50. This is really a divided nation. It would take a great leader to heal this divide, which I doubt it would be Obama.

Well, the American people had spoken. I hope they make it right this time.

Start: 5 November 2008 Wednesday 10:30pm
End: 5 November 2008 Wednesday 10:45pm
@home Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental, Philippines

First of November

If my words come riding a strange, and, rhythmic saddle, blame it to the radio FM station from Boston, USA through Internet radio. I am listening to Mr George Devlin's program while he plays retro-songs. I am attaching his picture below just to show the guy:

His voice seem implacable to his face. His voice is soft and effeminate, but his looks are more of a strict policeman. Physical features and voices of a man seldom fit. A body maybe diminutive, but his voice can command armies to destroy nations. Come to think of it, voice is the closest thing that can embody a soul. What in a voice that capture the desire of a soul? Or retrograded, what in soul's true desire translated in our voice?

The first voice or the sound that we uttered in entering this world was a cry. Not an indelible word, nor a laugh. But a crying sound. Did our cries a translation of soul's desire for freedom from the confines of the uterus, or a conscious complaint that life here on earth will be uncertain and bitter ? And when we die, our cries become more sophisticated; with words that become indelible as our 'last words'. In death, one can argue the same thing: cry-freedom from the confines of the body, or a conscious shout that after-life can be uncertain and possibly bitter.

The first of November is the day to remember our dead. Stationed far from my dead love-ones, I honor them by remembering. And in my mind, I remember their lives by replaying and listening to the conversations, and, laughters we had. Of those who died, my mother's lost is the most poignant.

My mother died nine years ago and I remember her as if she died yesterday. Time whittling effect to the memories of my mother is un-niched. And with it, her lost is un-diminished.

The last living memory of her was the moment when the family decided to pull-out the life-support-system, after months in the intensive-care-unit. Her last days were voiceless. It would been better if she could talked, but the plastic-tube inside her mouth prevented her from talking. We conversed only through body-gestures. She tried writing and drawing symbols, but her plumped hands, affected by medicines, prevented these. Weeks before I had no idea that she would die. But my sister, seem to know the impending end. She was secretly praying for her soul by reading a prayer-lette for the souls in purgatory.

After putting off the life support, we circled around her bed and prayed the rosary. At that time, death was better than seeing her suffer. She died after we completed the rosary, nearing 6 pm of September 28, 1999. I heard my father, with silent sigh, 'She died without saying goodbye...'

Through the years, letting her go, without hearing even a faint sound of her voice, is the real bitter pain. A silent death is like a soul-less death. Voices are conduit to our soul. And soul's desire to be heard to affirm existence, no matter how fleeting, is a spike to eternity.

Start: 1 November 2008 Saturday 11:23am
End: 1 November 2008 Saturday 02:09pm
@home Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental, Philippines

Intruder Alert !

It was a long week-end last week and it was an opportunity to digress from the normal weekend activity. I decided to be an Internet junkie. Nothing really important to do, but to go randomly at each sites, and learn a new word, idea, or even, re-learn something that I used to know.

Bouncing from pages to pages, I noticed my surfing-speed became slower and slower until the cursor stopped moving. I must be trapped inside an infected web page. But I was been in this page and it was tamed and imitable, nothing extra-ordinary. Then I noticed my anti-virus system gone haywire. It kept on updating, without reaching completion. It continued for hours, until I decided to re-start the unit, and then run scan. But scanning led to more scary situation; it declared that my security system was compromised!

Pressing more buttons, the anti-virus system recommended to re-install the anti-virus CD. This was really hairy scary. It was just like saying, 'I surrender!' My defenders surrendered to the faceless foe, possibly already wrecking havoc in my computer. This was panic time!

As if the a noose was tightening, I pressed more buttons, as if asking for more. And I ended-up to a not so familiar window: the 'Log-viewer' window. Ah, this was new to me, a list of intruders, or other systems, or persons that wanted to go inside my computer. Interestingly, there was an option to trace the intruders. Tracing, is essentially pinging or releasing a sharp sound or signal to echo-locate the source of intrusion. More like in the submarine: one can measure the distance of an enemy submarine by the measuring the time the sound travelled back from the enemy.

Internet pinging not only identify the location of the intruder, but could identify their URL or network locator identification; even giving their office address, personal name and telefone number. This was great indeed. But knowing the identity was only half the winning. It was like winning a lotto ticket. As most of lotto winners realized, winning the ticket is not winning. It just gave you an opportunity to own big money. Winning is safely getting the priced money from the bank to one's pocket.

And I gave the intruder a chase by releasing a series of pings. Below are results:

The intruders are from my country, with office address at Makati City. There were Mr. Abarquez and Mr. Vinluan. I was fumed seeing them intruding into my system. But a close examination of their identities, they seem to be working for my Internet service provider. Damn! It made me more mad. They might be using the company's infrastructure to steal other people's identities, worse if money!



I started to dial their numbers to yank dirty protests. But thinking again, it seemed better to report them to Internet provider's 24-hr customer service, than directly confront them. It is like using a police blotter. Issuing a blotter may deter future intrusion, at the same time, I would be protected that may fall-out from direct confrontation.


Calling the 24-hr hot-line may not also be a good idea, specially when you try to explain the problem to a newbie, just like me. But betting to a direct fight and running the risk of vendetta from computer-raiders, was surely a sure toss-to-lose. So calling a call-agent for help, may not be a bad idea at all.



The call agent was a woman. I explained to her my problem, and relayed to her the names of the intruders' details, emails, and, office addresses. I am expecting the usual answer like, 'Thank you sir, we will look into this asap.' And then what! Nothing. But interestingly, she told me to wait, and she will confirm the identities of these people.


After listening to a couple of telefone-songs, for waiting-callers, she returned and said, 'Sir, there is nothing to worry. These are our technician guys that take care our DSL servers. They care our server from any intruders, viruses, and other bad people that may interfere with our service.' But why they are trying to enter my system, I asked? She simply said, 'I think, they are just verifying subscribers of our DSL line. Some bad people tend to steal Internet time from paying customers, like putting illegal connections.'



That made sense. Robbers will never put their real names, addresses, and numbers, to steal other people's properties. For crime, anonymity is a bliss. Criminals do not need to win lotto numbers. They just need to steal the priced money from the bank.




Start: 29 October 2008 Wednesday 10:14pm
End: 31October 2008 Friday 6:40pm
@ home in Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental, Philippines

Google me

Sometimes during the week, it dawned to me to google my college friends, wondering what ever happened to them. It was was more than twenty years since I graduated from the university and tracing them will surely be fun. Of course, it sould been easier to trace them using a more specific search engines like going to university alumni web pages, but googling may give a more skewed perspective: listing of published literatures, conferences attended, social clubs, blog-sites, and, court cases. In this process, a little of something were revealed, perhaps un-conspicuously.

First, I started to wonder about my girlfriend. Back then, losing her was a big deal. More, after losing her to that mongrel-replacement-boyfriend. The last news I heard about her was she had gone to states to pursue graduate studies and leaving her boyfriend. I thought they would marry. University days were surely hell seeing them together. But that was long time ago. And like anything else grounded by time, pains, like roses, were whittled to become dust.

Search gave me interesting results. She finished her PhD and working in a US-Federal agency on brain- research. She was here last year, and married now. She seems very active in Balik-scientist programme of the Philippine government, which I found to be very responsible. I looked for her pictures, in case if she retains her youthful features. Of course, expecting twenty-plus years to unchange and un-age her is absurd. But somehow, our mind remembers the features we love from the person we cared: pinkish cheek, kinky eyes, hopping gait, boisterous laughter, happy lips, and, un-kept hair. We remember by the context of appearances. And memory, is itself a double-helix: double strands of feelings and features caressing.

And surely, I found her picture, together with the research group in her office. She gained weight, but not that heavy. Her hair remained un-kept, which may be rude, considering it was a formal group picture. I searched for more for her husband's pictures and children (if any), but I came back empty. Though contacting her is possible, finding her again is enough.

I looked for more about my batch mates, or my co-graduates back in 1986. Most of them had gone to finish their PhD's abroad and resided there. Their published technical research works can attest to that. In my latest count, out of 13 that graduated in chemistry that year, only four was left to practice chemistry in the Philippines. That was a third of the class! We may have the most number of PhD's, but surely a brain drain for the country.

Of course, this is nothing to inveigh. I remember a professor once said, 'We don't need them here; They do not want to be here!' Well said and dissonantly pointed to un-nationalistic.

Then I went to search more for my not so close friends and, best friends in the Dormitory. Most of results returned empty and un-related court cases. Maybe they were not that internet savvy at all. Or my method is obviously droll.

Until I wonder whatever happen to my friends Andoy and Toto. Nothing special, but plain curiousity. Back then, my life in the university can only be defined by my two friends. They defined my day by being the measure of variance. Toto was the assertive type, with the talent to yank from warlike stance to a spiritual duff . I never saw him fight, nor hurt another person, but somehow, I couldn't figure out if it's all but acting.

Andoy, on the other hand, was the writer. He was emotional and a mathematical nerd. He kept a gray-linen journal and carried it like a bible. It contained poems and write-ups of things for persons and places. But I think, it was more of poems than anything else. He had this passion to join quiz competitions from different academic organizations. I thought, it was really his knack to join and win, but I realize now, it was more of economics than anything else; Having the chance to win a month's allowance at the same time had fun, was not bad at all.

Searching for Toto was like playing an un-even handed dice at the beto beto stall. No chance of winning and finding relevant results. He might be too disinterested in the internet nor just too clever to be untraceable.

Finding Andoy was totally different. His digital footprints were swaggerly plastered all over the place. He is a major contributor to Pinoy Poet club, and continually been an active member. And his blog sites are virtual window to his life. He was blogging since 2004, and his initial entry were poems from that gray-linen journal. Even scanning the hand written pages of the poems.

Transferring the journal logs to blogs is virtual resurrection of dead poems to digital universe. And with links to various diggs, no one knows where and, when, your blog will end up. It may end up to a complete stranger, enthused by your blogs, may pun your words to a radical idea. Or it may end up to your long lost friend, with common stories re-told, can cascade years of treasured memories. And all of these, can be uncanny, and yet funny; human, and yet technological; emotional, and yet, mathematical. Journal log, and yet, web log.

Start: 25 October 2008 7:43 pm Sunday
End: 26 October 2008 11:00 pm Monday
@ home in Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental, Philippines