hits on hibalag 2007

Hit 1: Woke up at exactly 11:30 in the morning. It has been a long time...

Hit 2: Finally, someone realized I needed the “presence.” Unfortunately, the presence was felt but the angst was still there.

Hit 3: Open house at New Men's Dormitory later this afternoon, but I think Carson Hall's open house event yesterday was enough.

Hit 4: Submitted to Sir Ian my article on Outstanding Sillimanian Awardee for Business, Mr. Winglip Kwan Chang.

Hit 5: Sir Ian sent me a text message minutes later: “Ikaw ang first nakaemail, hehehe. Kaya man lagi.” Whoa!

Hit 6: Disappointment dawned upon me when the results of Miss Silliman 2007 Pageant Night came swimming into my mind.

Hit 7: Still thinking if our Peanut Macaroons, which are for sale in our booth, will actually bring the buyer instant experience of Bohol's subtle beauty and wonder — as what Galee San Pedro claimed last night.

Hit 8: Kadugong Bol-anon's Booth needed some more oomph, more style. Help!

Hit 9: Oh! Exams on Literary Criticism, under Cezar Ruiz Aquino, later this 3 o'clock!

Hit 10: Wait, no rain on this year's Hibalag? Peculiar, peculiar, peculiar...

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redefining

Would the College of Arts and Sciences, now lead by only one contender unlike the usual two, gain back its sheen?

Would the College of Mass Communication finally break away from their Tradition of Almost Being There?

Would the College of Computer Sciences bag the crown?

Would the College of Engineering and Design hits all odds?

Would the College of Business Administration continue to reign the coveted title?

With this year's theme “Redefining Beauty and Strength” for Miss Silliman 2007, the real question will be: Is there really a need to redefine beauty and strength of a woman? Tonight, at the Claire McGill Luce Auditorium by 8 o'clock in the evening, will be the much-awaited Pre-pageant Night which showcases the beautiful candidates' talents. See you!

Yumi Ogumi (College of Arts and Sciences)

Graziella Corollo (College of Mass Communication)

Maria Bryne Catherine Marchan (College of Computer Sciences)


Sarah Jane Martin (College of Business Administration)



Jennifer Villanueva (College of Engineering and Design)

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grateful

Due to on-the-rush schedule for the Hibalag celebration and near-financial constraints, I and my fellow Litcritters managed to give this, as a gift, to birthday celebrant Ian Rosales Casocot.

Truth be told, I forgot what age “Sir Ian” celebrated yesterday at The Spanish Heritage by 6:30 in the evening. And sir’s mum, too, shares the same birth date! Well, at the least, the date August 17 managed to seep into my beleaguered mind for some future night of feasting (Libre! Libre!).

Someone told me last night that each picture in the gift represents a genre of fiction. Unfortunately, since I didn’t head the making of this glorious token (thanks to Mich and company! Hehe), I was not able to choose my preferred photo.

Now, guess who leads the fantastic field of horror. Hmm…?

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please excuse the clutter

Fred Jordan Mikhail T. Carnice

The Weekly Sillimanian

August 15, 2007

I.

A couple of days ago, I attended a leadership training that ought to shape the purported heads, chiefs, or managers of tomorrow but, instead, I went back home with body aches and shirt stains due to all those team-building torture.

IV.

Pondering has become my habit: I think I have delegated my tasks properly and orderly. I think I have listened enough to grievances and made an effort in solving them. I think I have made my point. But I am wrong. I just keep on thinking!

II.

As one of the activities in the programme, we were assigned to present a short skit based on Jack Welch’s words: “Face reality as it is, not as it was or as you wish it to be.” Well, it turned out to be an instant favourite; it was played repetitiously in my mind. Nevertheless, a shocking insight upon contemplating this line of leadership spirit enlightened me: It was the recognition that I am a wandering nomad, lost, trying hard to determine which path to take on and at the same time guilty of not knowing what to do.

VIII.

Though easier said than done, at the least, I am currently steering away from the paranoia. But it is also a slow process, so please excuse my vagueness when I am approached.

III.

There are times when simply reading a fresh graphic fiction anthology, sipping some cold coffee, or conversing about the latest flick brings about a sick sensation that I have committed an offense. As if my heart constricts and make me ask myself, “There are more things to be done! What am I doing?!”

IX.

To end all these brouhaha, I tell you: This is not just about me, but this is about everyone who is nitpicked away from their comfort zones and is plunged into a fiery chasm where trust is elusive and help is just as fictional as the word muggle.

V.

Yes, it really sounds good if one assumes I think too much (he or she can only imagine what great invention or discovery I have in mind) but the underlying disadvantage is that, because I think too much, the act of doing is left to nothing more but just a morsel of thought. And it makes my cluttered brain more devastated as if typhoon Chedeng just paid me a visit.

VII.

As for my case, it is really scary. And for someone who occasionally leans towards the absurdities of human nature, it might be possible. Thankfully I know change is gradual, and I can fully stop this before the transformation completes me into becoming like a zombie. So the next question is: How? Based on “reliable” findings I overheard from incessant beer talks at the nearby videoke house or special meetings that ought to straighten up what is crooked, let’s just say an instant self-check is required to set up a go. Or listen to the people around you and assess your present deeds; it is impossible that they don’t even have the slightest comment! And if that, still, doesn’t work, run and hit yourself on the wall about 50 times and I am pretty sure your state of “lostness” will go away and before you’ll even notice it, you will find yourself—plus violet patches of bruise. I could have decided on the latter one time but I am just too lost to have conjured an idea like that.

VI.

A confession must be told: my supposedly innocent leisure now turns into something sinful. The barriers between what I want, what I need, and what they need are slowly crumbling. I am becoming aware of knowing the fear of unknowing. I would certainly become ambiguity in human form! This is such an embarrassment to any so-called leader!

X.

Well then, this is really not the perfect time to babble and to think before I go—Crash!

Note: The chronology of the paragraphs was muddled stressing the author’s “lostness” when writing this (hint: follow the Romans).

when nature comes too close

Dewy leaves, soft sunlight, fresh air, and beautiful scenery always hypnotize us. Due to that kind of feeling, we tend to set aside matters that nag our day-to-day sensibilities. When we are close to nature we relax, focus, and meditate.

Relax. Focus. Meditate.
Relax— Focus— Meditate—

1. Relax

May 23, 2007 at exactly 1:30 in the morning, I was watching a late TV show in the living room when boredom finally took over. Reading a book or a magazine to defeat the persisting mild insomnia was the best I could think of. Since everything was so quiet, even the dogs and the cats outside seemed to have taken a sleeping pill, I pulled a newly-bought Reader’s Digest from the shelf and sat cross-legged on my bed. With a big pillow propped behind my back and another on my lap, I started to read.

Just as I was engrossed on an article entitled 10 Questions that Could Save Your Life, an unanticipated visitor came into my midst by 2o’clcok. He was small. There was no denying his smallness since I bowed down a bit to inspect him up close. Well, I also assume he must be a “he”—he looked so much a he to me. As a matter of fact, all frogs look like hes to me. And though the visitor had soft and shiny skin that we regard as a quality of the perfect woman, the rest of the features were definitely masculine: broad shoulders, square jaws, and webbed feet. Webbed Feet? Yes.

Why did he come up to me at this time of night?
What was he doing in my bedroom?

2. Focus

He stood on the checkered blanket that wrapped my feet. On all fours, he crawled towards me in a sneaky way. I tried shooing him away by pulling on the blanket, yet he remained determined. I put the magazine aside and gave him a look: serious, merciless and intimidating. But he stared back at me coldly. Wait. No, not coldly—I believe that beneath those shiny black eyes was a soul full of remorse and wonder.

I gave him another look, but a look of pity. He slowly inched towards me. Without realizing I was already reaching the edge of my bed. I was not aware of myself whether I was scared or timid by his presence but at that moment, he was the center of my attention. He made me question myself whether he was welcome in my bed or not. It was like he was asking for my permission.

I readied myself to jump and upon looking at him, he also had this stance of preparedness like mine. He probably had read my mind! When I jumped off by the side of my bed, he also leaped forward. Finally, he ruled my comfort zone (which was my one and only bed), looking triumphant on top of one of the two pillows. And then he croaked like a dignified being. He croaked? Yes.

How did he get into my room?
Why this perception that he was miserable?

3. Meditate

After three or four shots of him with my handy cell phone, I took a last glance at him and went straight to my mother’s room where I could lie down on the extra bed.

“What are you doing here?” my mother asked me when she noticed me entering the room.
“Hehehe—there’s a frog on my bed,” I replied.

I snugly covered myself up with the warm blanket and thought of him; a creature so bouncy and small. Was he lost and desperately made his way from the unknown regions of this planet to my bedroom?

No. I did not consider him as a lost stranger. For some reason, I believed he meandered into my private adobe for me to realize that something wrong was going on outside our house. Why did he intrude in the first place when he had this expansive swamp in our backyard, tall trees that sprawled around our house, and the rest of his kind chorusing at night-time? Why, with nature’s abundance, had he come confidently onto my cluttered bed?

These questions kept revolving around my head. I shut my eyes and wished I could finally sleep. And in a flash, a realization hit me: Indeed, I rather had a different kind of “closeness” to nature. Tourists and other environment enthusiasts tend to forego modern day pleasures to embrace the greatness of lush forests, and adore the underwater haven or generally kiss nature’s innocent beauty. But in my case, I did not trek crumbly terrains, climb mountains, or swim the depths of the ocean. Nature, instead, came to me. It came at exactly 2 o’clock at dawn. It came to me in an unexpected way, in a very unique form.

Reflecting that night’s very intimate encounter, I just smiled. These days when most people have to appreciate the splendour of natural things through strenuous and costly efforts like hitting high-class resorts and live at villas, I was glad I got the sense of appreciation and love of nature in the form of a frog. He may be an amphibian but the insight I got was very humane.

I will remember this forever.

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