LA VIE D'ADELE - CHAPITRES 1 ET 2 / Blue Is The Warmest Color Full Movie

The East (soundtrack) - The National - About Today

In the Philippines local churches become evacuation sites

In the Philippines local churches become evacuation sites
“I prayed that even if everything we had were destroyed, our lives be spared!”

An elderly resident of Barangay Botongan in the town of Estancia in Northern Iloilo only had time to grab her grandchildren and run for cover when the 300 kph winds ripped their house apart.

On November 7, 2013 the strongest typhoon to ever hit land levelled central Philippines in a matter of hours. Over 5,000 lives were lost and nearly 4.5 million residents have been displaced from their homeland. Three hundred million dollars’ worth of damage in agriculture and infrastructure was estimated by the national disaster authorities.

Diakonia responded with support for the immediate provision of food, water and fuel to affected communities. The Convention of Philippine Baptist Churches (CPBC) which has its main office in Jaro, Iloilo reported that no one could reach the remote places of the affected towns because of debris and broken structures. CPBC coordinated with local authorities to utilize heavy equipment to transport food bags to the communities. They also mobilized volunteers from local hospitals and schools.

“There came many storms before, but this was something we have not seen in our lives…”

I visited some of the affected areas in northern Iloilo and Capiz provinces on January 2^nd to the 4^th. Rains continued to pour in the affected towns which have put up thin blankets or plastic sheets on their temporary shelters. A rainy weather is especially difficult for traumatized children as they continue to worry that the rain might suddenly turn into storm surges. Two months after Haiyan hit the country the people are still in shock at the devastation. Many of the affected populations do not own the lands on which their houses were built and therefore may face eviction or rejection of rebuilding plans. Those whose crops were grown on loan find themselves in debt again in order to grow another set of crops.

CPBC works with local church cooperatives and committees to coordinate relief efforts and conduct surveys of rehabilitation needs. International assistance finally reached Iloilo and Capiz after a month and people are slowly rebuilding their lives.  Their most immediate concerns are construction materials especially with new storms approaching land, they needed to build sturdier structures or reconstruct better temporary shelters.

“Diakonia’s help through CPBC gave us comfort in knowing that people know what happened to us.”

Text and photo by Niza Concepcion

for the Diakonia Asia blog

Empowering Rural Women for Inclusive Development

Empowering Rural Women for Inclusive Development

2013-10-30 

At the 1997 World Conference on Women in Beijing, international NGOs launched the commemoration of Rural Women’s Day, followed by a global campaign for education and empowerment of rural women.

The first International Day of Rural Women was observed worldwide on 15 October 2008 in response to the UN General Assembly resolution that recognized “the critical role and contribution of rural women, including indigenous women, in enhancing agricultural and rural development, improving food security and eradicating rural poverty.”

Today over a hundred countries recognize the crucial role of women in rural economies of both developed and developing societies. In most parts of the developing world women participate in seed preservation, crop production, land cultivation, livestock care, storing and providing food, water and fuel for their families. Women engage in marketing and other off-farm activities to diversify their families’ livelihoods. In addition, they carry out vital functions of child and elderly care, as well as tending the sick and disabled. Rural women are key stakeholders in food security, sustainable natural resources, climate justice and overall socio-economic stability of their communities.

Despite their valuable contribution to their communities’ economic life, having little or no status in society, they are often unable to secure land ownership and property rights, and lack the power to access vital support and services such as credit, market inputs and extension services, training or education. Rural women bear the brunt of so-called development projects that evict farmers from their land, or fisher folk from their sources of livelihood; rural women have almost no means of recovering or gaining compensation in the event of evacuations caused by calamities or violence in conflict situations.

International Rural Women’s Day, which falls on October 15, is commemorated ahead of World Food Day (October 16) to emphasize the vital relationship between women and food security. Rural women comprise more than a quarter of the total world population. Five hundred million of them live below the poverty line in most countries. Women produce 60-80% of basic foodstuffs in sub-Saharan Africa and the Caribbean; perform over 50% of the labor involved in intensive rice cultivation in Asia, and 30% of the agricultural work in industrialized countries. Yet they own less than one percent of the world’s wealth and have lesser chances of acquiring them.

World Rural Women’s Day aims to change the situation of rural women by promoting their rights, giving value and credit to their work and strengthening their capacities towards sustainability and development for their societies. This year’s commemoration was highlighted by UN Women’s Executive Director Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka with a call to“enforce and protect the rights of rural women”, adding that “When women have access to land, there are improvements in household welfare, agricultural productivity and gender equality. And greater progress is made against poverty, gender-based violence and HIV/ AIDS. It makes everybody better off.”

 Text and photo by: Niza Concepcion

Diakonia Asia blog http://asia.diakonia.se

International Women’s Day: A Look Back

International Women’s Day: A Look Back

2014-03-17 

Women garment workers from New York City were at the front line of protests in 1909. Photo from the Socialist Worker website.

So many people from all walks of life now identify with the annual celebration of International Women’s Day (IWD) , it is hard to believe that it all started with women working in factories more than a hundred years ago in countries where industrialisation began such as England, Russia and the United States. Even before the 1900s, workers in factories were labouring more than eighteen hours a day, had no rest days, dismissed once they got sick or injured, paid meagre salaries and often fell into debt and exploitation.

It was a time of collective awareness that saw the first public demonstrations for better working conditions. Women workers from garment, textile and needle factories were at the front line of these protests. Women factory workers in England began marching even earlier in the 1820s. Meanwhile, the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire that claimed the lives of 146 young women shocked American society into realising that these unfortunate women had not even begun to enjoy their lives before their horrible deaths.

Soon a movement called “bread and roses” demanded decent working conditions that would allow women to enjoy the fruits of their income, be respected and have a full life. The “bread and roses” strikes involved thousands of immigrant women workers, as well as World War 1 widows. They were largely ignored by the male-dominated labour movement and public officials who were in collusion with the growing industrial business class, so much that women started organising themselves and held their own massive labour strikes.

From the same ranks came women who thought that in order to be taken seriously they should also take power through the vote. In war-time Russia, women protesting for ‘Bread and Peace’ one day in February which fell on 8 March on the Gregorian calendar successfully achieved their right to vote.  In 1911 and 1912, European countries such as Germany, Denmark, Austria and Switzerland officiated women workers day while Russia made it an official working holiday after the October revolution but since 1965 declared it a non-working holiday.

Finally in 1977, a United Nations General Assembly resolution invited member States to mark International Women’s Day officially in their countries. Today over 100 countries celebrate IWD and March 8^th is a national holiday in  Afghanistan, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Burkina Faso, Cambodia, China (for women only), Cuba, Georgia, Guinea-Bissau, Eritrea, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Laos, Madagascar (for women only), Moldova, Mongolia, Montenegro, Nepal (for women only), Russia, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uganda, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Vietnam and Zambia.

Today, women and men celebrate International Women’s Day all over the world in various ways. In this photo, young people from Bangladesh rode bicycles to show their support for women’s rights.,

Meanwhile, women continue to march in the streets hundred years on, in Cambodia, Bangladesh, and Thailand. Demands for decent wage and working conditions, shorter working hours, social and health services, recognition and respect are as real today as they were then. Justice for victims of violence and discrimination are still as elusive. There are still women who are migrants, widows, single mothers, and from ethnic and religious minorities, gravely disadvantaged and vulnerable to abuse.

However, remarkable progress in the area of women’s political and economic status, recognition and legislation of women’s rights have been made throughout the years. Women’s rights movements gave birth to others such as child rights, environment, peace and development rights. These gains have been achieved for us through painstaking and lifelong work of those who have struggled before us.

In Asia, International Women’s Day is observed on the eve of the establishment of the ASEAN Economic Community and the deadline of the Millennium Development Goals. It is everyone’s duty to continue this legacy of struggle for women’s equality and empowerment towards genuine development for all.

From the Diakonia Asia blog. 
Text by Niza Concepcion.
Photos by Socialist Worker and staff of Association of Development for Economic & Social Help (ADESH).

The Choice to be Child Free

The Choice to be Child Free

Sometime in June or July my husband had a vasectomy. It’s something we had talked about at length for nearly the entirety of our relationship up to that point. Which then had been nearly 13 years. We knew from the beginning neither of us really wanted children. We both have pretty awful genetics in terms of addiction, mental health, and physical deformities (though mild), and we also knew that we just didn’t want the responsibility of parenthood.
About four years after we started dating, my husband went for a consultation with his physician about the possibility of a vasectomy.  The doctor told him they would absolutely not perform the procedure since he was under 28, had no children, and was unmarried. I knew from various friends’ experiences that a tubal ligation wouldn’t be an option to me unless I was over 28 or had two or more children. Only now do I know that there are no laws or requirements in the state of Florida beyond a doctor’s willingness to perform a sterilization procedure. I was also not exactly sold on the idea of having an invasive surgical procedure that wasn’t medically necessary.
As a woman you hear things like “You’ll change your mind.” or “How selfish of you to not want children! That’s what your biologically supposed to do! If you don’t have kids you’re going against nature!” So, I held out. I spent five years on the depo provera shot because I had tried the pill during my last relationship and it just didn’t work with my body chemistry. Neither did the depo, but I wasn’t ready for either of us to go ahead with permanent sterilization, just in case what everyone said was true. Maybe I would change my mind and crave my supposed biological imperative.
Eight years passed by of us using multiple forms of contraception. When we were about to marry, I considered the possibility of children again. I would say I seriously considered it to the point of borderline existential crisis. Married people were supposed to have children. If I was about to be married, shouldn’t the next logical step be children? How do you progress a marriage without children? There was a crushing weight of expectation to have children and every time I avoided directly answering the question of “When are you planning to have babies?” I could feel the air around me prickle with disappointment and immediately cleared with a breeze of skepticism and dismissive, self-righteous commentary of “Of course, you’ll have kids! It’s okay to wait a few years.” Which was almost always followed up with “Don’t wait too long though! You only have so much time to do these things! You don’t want to be the old mom!”
The truth was, I didn’t want to be a mom, but I was terrified of what people would think if I openly embraced the decision to remain childless. My husband and I half-joked about how we were never having kids. His favorite response was always that he was the only child our relationship needed. Mine was that he was the only child our relationship could afford! Grown up toys are expensive!
I still don’t want to be a mom. I am almost 33 years old and the older I get, the more certain I am of my choice not to have kids. Only now I have enough faith in myself and my decision to respond to the You’ll-change-your-mind-ers with a polite “No, I won’t.”
Last summer my husband and I discussed the possibility of vasectomy again and decided that not only was it the easiest form of permanent birth control, but it was also the least expensive or invasive, and also the most effective. And if by some weird chance we ever did change our minds, we would look into adoption. He made the appointment, had the procedure — which only took about 20 minutes, and by the next day we were out to lunch with friends.
My husband had his procedure on a Friday afternoon, which meant he had to leave early and there probably wouldn’t be any partying that weekend. But when my husband told his male coworkers he was going in for his vasectomy, more than a few of them said he should made me have a tubal ligation instead. He rolled his eyes and explained that the vasectomy was way better because he would never have to worry about having kids again, wife or not.  He told me the guys had been giving him a hard time and I was admittedly irrationally annoyed. So I did what I always do. I took to the internet and posted this little gem on my tumblr.

Anyone who knows what a tubal ligation entails vs. a vasectomy and still advocates for a woman have an invasive medical procedure requiring anesthesia and incisions rather than an outpatient medical procedure that can take less than 20 minutes and only a few days of recovery (literally, we went to lunch the next day) should probably re-evaluate their life choices. If you value your sperm more than a woman undergoing a major surgical procedure, YOU ARE PROBABLY TERRIBLE.

Yes, I know it’s rude, but in all honesty, if you and your partner are considering permanent sterilization the vasectomy is the least complicated and most effective (failure rate for vasectomies is 1 in 2000 which is considerably better than tubal ligations for which there is one failure in every 200 to 300 cases). I didn’t expect to anyone to reply since my tumblr following is so small, but someone did.

So, your husband should have his ability to produce offspring removed, so you don’t have to? that’s entitlement, and as a result, you’re an entitled bitch.

I didn’t know this person. They didn’t know me. They didn’t know the situation, which I did explain, and still I was called an entitled bitch. All because my husband came up with the idea to have a vasectomy and after much discussion he finally did it. Some how though, it was my fault that his ability to produce offspring was removed. I was the selfish one.
I was selfish if I didn’t have children, I was selfish if my husband chose to sacrifice his reproductive ability for our relationship. If I had children and wasn’t able to care for them the way they deserved, I would be irresponsible and selfish. If I had children and still worked full time, I would be labeled a selfish, entitled bitch because I should be caring for kids instead of focusing on my career and trying to ‘Lean In.’
You know what? I am selfish. I’m selfish because I refuse to be bullied into submission by name calling or passive aggressive know-it-alls. I’m selfish because I would rather choose a child than have a child. I’m selfish because I don’t know if I would be a good parent and I refuse to take the risk of completely screwing up another person’s life just to fulfill some socio-biological imperative.
I’m okay with that. --Camicia Bennett

The Elephant Nature Park Rescue and Rehabilitation shelter in Chiangmai Thailand

My brother and his son, my six year old nephew visited me in Chiangmai for the first time this week. On Monday we went to an elephant shelter for abused and exploited elephants. My little nephew had never seen real live elephants before so he was all for feeding, petting and giving them a bath in the lake around the park. We joined a group of 10 visitors for a day-long interaction with the elephants which had one form of deformity or another. All of these elephants were rescued from villages, logging industries, tour companies and even neighboring Burma. All are being healed, rehabilitated and given a place of peace and safety from any human activity except for the care and recovery they receive at the shelter. I've been so amazed at the way my nephew treated those elephants. He did not see their "disabilities"-he just loved them all! Being the only child in the group he was constantly reminded to "go closer, she can't walk far- her leg's broken", or "don't let her reach too far for the food, she's totally blind"... the child adjusted himself to the situation immediately! No questions, no pity looks, no drama. And yet who told him about all the horrible things that got them that way? US! Without asking for it my nephew got an education in how bad people can get at the same time that he learned to love elephants in real life. Stupid adults. Why couldn't we just let him enjoy the moment first and wait for him to ask the questions later? Another hard lesson that only children can teach us...

Top Ten Most Influential Feminist Books | Infoplease.com

Geez, I better start collecting them.  I have a niece now and I better be leaving her some of the good things in life.

Top Ten Most Influential Feminist Books | Infoplease.com

Journalists easy targets in the Philippines - Al Jazeera Blogs

According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, 72 journalists have been killed in the last 10 years alone in the Philippines, a figure second only to Iraq.

Journalists easy targets in the Philippines - Al Jazeera Blogs

Thai Language Thai Culture: Ten Steps to Learning Thai

I am just pulling my hair over my homework now :(

Thai Language Thai Culture: Ten Steps to Learning Thai

Motorcycle trauma and the helmet that goes with it

A few days ago, my colleague taught me the basics of... well...starting and moving a motorcycle. In a secluded street in the middle of the day it was easy to go, break, go, break, in a speed and lane of my choosing, where all the cars are parked. I was ecstatic that I learned something new yet again, so I bought a trendy new helmet to go with it, one that looks like an ordinary cap but is made with real helmet material for serious motorists. And so I wore that helmet today, my first day out on the road with the motorbike issued by the office-every staff can have one if they don't own a car or bicycle. My colleague who had lent me her bicycle rode alongside a little bit of the way on her own motorbike but soon I proceeded alone to navigate the busy roads to my gym near the Chiang Mai airport.

I realised quickly whenever I neared any intersection with a red traffic light that I have trouble coordinating the brake with the gas. To my horror, it dawned on me that the left foot pedals where one raises or lowers gears are not suited to the size of my left foot. Meanwhile the right handle bar of the motorcycle where the 'gas' is, is also where the only hand brake is. I am also completely unaccustomed to balancing my weight on a motorcycle at low speeds, such that if I try to squeeze between cars like other motorbike drivers, I WOBBLE!

By the time I got to the moat in the middle of the city I swore that I wouldn't be sweating this much from nervousness if I was on a bicycle. But pour it did, and I had no choice but to take it all the way. I had to look down to shift gears, which is extremely dangerous in these busy rush hour streets. Each time I reach for the hand brake my palm rubs against the gas too so my bike jumps instead of braking! I should have known better than to get too close to other motorists. At the intersection near the mall where my gym is, what happened was exactly as I feared: at the red light I tried to squeeze into the lane between motorcycles and cars, at the same time trying to catch the down shift and braking with the hand. I had completely forgotten my foot brake and had jumped my bike into the motorcycle in front of me, where a lady was driving her son home from school. Luckily it wasn't a hard bump as I was almost stopping already. I apologised profusely, not letting on that I am inexperienced and am driving without a license. I also asked if I was on the right lane...just to keep them from focusing on the small 'bump'.

As if this was not enough, as soon as I put my hands on the handles the bike jumped again and again it plowed into the side of the car to my right. This time a boy got out to look at the paint. I honestly don't know how I got out of that one. There was a little scratch, but it seemed that the boy was more concerned whether I dented the car. He simply went back inside and all of us started up at the green light, and went our way.

The last thing I needed, being already shaken up by the car incident, was to lose my concentration while entering the parking space at the mall. Having trouble navigating small entrances/exits I AGAIN nearly plowed into the parking lot attendant. This time I was sure they were going to call the police because they looked as shocked as I am. Surely this has never happened to them before...EVER! Finally I got my ticket and asked as casually as I can (although I could feel my voice shaking) in English-so as to be taken as the "silly foreigner" instead of the looney local, "is there a payment for parking?".

Upon reaching the gym I was physically shaking with the stress and anxiety. I never wanted to use that motorcycle again, but how will I get home? In a place where everything closes at 9:00pm wasn't I excited about having the motorbike so I could stay late and drive home any time I wanted? Wasn't the motorbike my ticket to the late night bars, night market, karaoke and far away temples and parks?

I was in a daze, like someone who was involved in an accident but couldn't believe she got out alive... I glared at my trainor in case she asks me to start with a warm up. But I found myself stepping on a warm up machine, absent mindedly doing my exercises. I was in shock. My hands were shaking on the machine bars. My eyes were unfocused. I had to compose myself because it's not like my Pilates session will calm my nerves-- in fact it will stretch my body like torture!"Should I go on with this or should I just go home--NO NO-- home means using that bike again..."

"My God I really have to get my own bicycle now because I already told my colleague she can take hers back since I've "learned" to drive the motorbike..."

I realised that one, well...one, I was praying--here-- in the middle of my exercise. Two, that I am in such a trauma to get me praying here and now. Three, I have to tell somebody and get help calming myself down. There was no one else I can call (hands still shaking too badly to hold the phone) except my trainor. So while pushing the pilates pads I told her about my ordeal. She was shocked that I could attempt to go on this 'SUV-speeding' highway on my first motorbike ride (but speed wasn't my problem, it was slowing down and navigating the narrow spaces...). The fact that she looked truly afraid for me made me doubt my decision to do this. But, as my friend Juliette says: "in my heart"... I knew I had to try it. I mean, where else will I learn? On a video game?

The tremors didn't go away during my Pilates exercise so my trainor sought to help me relax by showing me pictures of nearby lakes and parks around the city which I can visit, and by reminding me of the upcoming flower festival. But she couldn't help herself from stressing "this one is just an hour's bicycle ride...this one not 20 minutes on bicycle...here I can take you on MY motorbike". So sweet of her but also so telling of my future fate with the motorized world. I wanted to cry...she must've seen my face because finally she said: "you will get used to it and then it will get better". I wanted to hug her but my torso was entangled in the chain and bars of the...thing.

At last my training session ended and I dreaded going out to the parking lot. I did not want to stay later than 9:00 pm after all.I had dinner to buy me some more time. Finally all the shops closed. My footsteps became heavy and my heart started pounding as I made my way to the motorbike. I became wobbly again at the narrow exit gates of the parking lot and had to literally throw the parking ticket I was returning, to the attendant. I made a mental note to use the other parking lot next time, because this one surely knows by now and I can't return to it without a license.

Fortunately my ride home was less eventful and thankfully, with lesser cars on the road (Jesus, people really turn in early here). I've made a successful second run on Mahidol highway, and finally turned into the street leading to my condo. My shakes were gone by the time I reached the condo parking lot and I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Tomorrow I am taking this motorbike to the office but will go home with the bicycle.

When I reached my room I texted my trainor to thank her for listening to me. She texted back her reassurance and confirmed that when we do go to the lake it will be my turn to help her overcome her fear of drowning by teaching her how to swim. It's a good deal.

Goodnight Trainor Cooper, I look forward to that lake.

Life in Colour

I should have been a film professional. I didn't know that in the beginning, when I was starting out in the university. Although I wouldn't be listening unless people shouted "down with something!", if someone had just hinted that maybe I should shift to film journalism or something that is connected with film, I think I would have seriously considered it. Except at that time a popular actor named Richard Gomes was also in film class. I was so repelled by this actor, who was nowhere as attractive as my brother or cousins, I didn't join the class for fear of being branded a film enrolee after his attentions. During his term in college the film class swelled to four times its normal size! Of course there were also students who turned out to be well respected broadcasters and film directors with whom I was proudly acquainted in that department. But at that time yes, they were thought to have taken up film because they are fans. True, they had a unique courage to endure that kind of humiliation.

Almost twenty years hence I have not lost my interest in watching good films despite my brain's unfortunate lack of memory space to recall all the endings. Provided with almost every opportunity and convenience to go to a spa or a bar after work hours, my first impulse would still be to line up at the cinema.

Before reaching my teens we had our first betamax machine. My father immediately spent most of his small salary purchasing many classic films. Most of them he had wanted to see when he was young but was too poor to afford the cinema. My sister and I would cuddle up beside him and watch one after another until we fell asleep, but this was only done during weekends when school was out. Gradually betamax was replaced by laser disks and then VCDs then DVDs. My Dad's betamax tapes had molded over a long time ago. And before he could change the machine he had already retired. Years later when he visited me in my workplace outside the country, he saw the same films now in DVDs in my collection. He was so happy I remembered the titles, and that works of favourites like Alfred Hitchkock Mysteries and the Pink Panther had been so readily available.

It is one of my regrets that I do not work in this industry. Film has changed the world in a decade more than radio or print did in fifty. It continues to depict the realities of life in its most beautiful and terrible faces, while giving flight to humanity's greatest dreams. The so-called idiot box has become the one mass educator for people who could not go to school. It has connected us in more ways than we can imagine. Generations before could not have "pictured" a future where watching a movie in the palm of one's hand can be done while writing a letter and chatting with friends at the same time -- on the same machine. Yet this was the subject of early film makers' so called "science fiction" themes wasn't it?

So I decided that if I wasn't going to be one of its creators I could surely be an avid spectator. And keep to what I know-- writing about it.

I can see clearly now (Jimmy Cliff- Cool Runnings)

I can see clearly now the rain has gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun shiny day

Yes I can make it now the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is that rainbow I've been praying for
It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun shiny day

Look all around, there's nothing but blue skies
Look straight ahead, there's nothing but blue skies

I can see clearly now the rain has gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
Here's that rainbow I've been praying for
It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun shiny day
It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun shiny day

Yeah it's gonna be a bright, bright sun shiny day


-Sunday, Nov. 8 2009 2:00-6:00 pm

CAW

The personal is political.
Committee for Asian Women Executive Committee and Secretariat
2009

Van Morrison Afternoon

Laundry goes in the tub with soap and suds

Heating up yesterday’s food on the stove

Sighing, got to really scrub the floor

Or fix the picture frames by the door

Had a 3-hour night’s sleep on a high-noon Saturday

Busy body making sure of a full day’s chore

Somewhere in the room there’s a film screen showing

That scene last night when I left, of you and her dancing

Counting my money, changing the lights

Intermittent internet signals keeping me online

Somewhere at the back of my mind

You are holding her hand instead of mine

The fruit truck has come by but there are still apples in my fridge

Maybe tomorrow I can grab the usual treats

Thinking I should be having a telephone

Somewhere some shadow wonders where you went home

There’s good music playing tonight, friends invite me to come and delight

They are the ladies’ lonely hearts club out to have a good time

I prefer to watch my videos alone to help me sleep

Whispers gossiping you’re probably giving her a kiss

Happy Birthday

There is your angel, it said to me
And I saw your shadow past the door
From your breath lilies fell to pad your steps
Your eyes gazed at me and I looked at the floor

I have no angel I replied to no one in particular
As though it is the most normal thing to do
Certain that the daily demons that surround my life
Would shield me from whatever it is coming from you

“He comes from paradise” once again it spoke
Taunting me to argue “there is no such thing”
I kept my silence, and, in case you should look
whispered softly: “what does he bring?”

Just as you smiled, all is understood
This angel from paradise is only a man
Come to play with the mortals on land
So I stepped aside to let you through

Solidarity

I really should be writing a solidarity message for May 1 and not a message to Stephanie Meyer, who in 2008 disclosed that a close friend has leaked 12 chapters of her draft of Midnight Sun on the internet. The heartbreaking part of her statement, issued on www.stephaniemeyer.com is when she said two plus two always makes four regardless of how you feel, but that writing is completely different, depending a lot on the writer's state of mind and emotional well being. She felt so betrayed that she did not even commit to other writing projects, saying she just wants to spend time with her family, to 'cool off'. How she kept from killing her so-called close friend I do not know. But I know how violated she must feel. Indeed, how does one go back to what was being written with all the hurt and disappointment riding one's creative space? I can understand if she would never look back on the Twilight series at all, for all the fame and fortune it created for her, only to end up like this.

Thus I am also saying goodbye to the Twilight Saga, knowing full well that the "officially disclosed" draft of Midnight Sun over the internet by Meyer herself would be the last of it. Ironically I can't decide whether to read the draft in my computer or not. Because of its very incompleteness, it has doubled if not quadrupled its value among us Twilight fans. But that is where it is most painful-- reading from page one, something which is no longer, and forever undone.

Sleepless in Bangkok

Two dreams in two consecutive nights: The first one, I was sitting in the passenger front seat of a brown car. It feels as if I do not even know the driver, who is in a black leather jacket. Suddenly a motorcycle carrying two, also in black leather jackets and head bonnets comes to my side of the car, one gun pointing straight at my face. The second dream the following night finds me in the same car with the same driver, but the motorcycle riders, instead of pointing the gun at my face, insert the gun in the window and fire at something behind us. My knee tries to maneuver the window handle to slide the glass up and trap the hand with the gun. I fail in my efforts, the gun swerving to my face again....then I wake up. I thought "too hollywood, and I don't even get to see if the gunmen were cute".

Vita Brevis (Life is Short)

“Was I nothing more than a woman’s body to you? You know that is not true. And how can you distinguish between body and soul? Isn’t that bungling God’s work of creation? …When you clawed me with your sharp caresses, you were also tearing at my soul”.

-Floria, in her letter to St. Augustine, denying his confession that what they shared was merely lust

Jostein Gaarder’s Vita Brevis was based on letters he found in a second-hand bookstore. The letters were written by Floria Aemilia to a certain Aurel as she called St. Augustine, by that time a prominent Bishop. In her pained writings, she attacked the Church’s dogma about celibacy for the religious as an affront to the gifts of God, the gift to love and be loved. She agonized over St. Augustine’s confessions that his life of fornication included his life with her. She cried that her love kept him faithful and that they were living in happiness until the theologians decided that he should marry “abstinence”. She laughed at his invitation to abandon life’s pleasures in order to live a holy life. This, she maintained, could both be accomplished without wasting the beautiful world that God has given humankind.

“On the other side of the bridge we passed some vendors, and I stopped to look at a beautiful cameo. Then you bought it for me, and now, now I sit with it in my hand. I clasp it, tightly. So God will have to forgive me for holding on to the ‘physical’….But life is short and I know so little. What if there is no heaven above us, Aurel, imagine that this life is what we were created for!”

Fascinated by the lives of saints, I liked this ‘other’ side of a story. St. Augustine’s life is one of those drilled into Catholic girls’ minds during my schooldays. If they weren’t dead already, I’d like to throw this book at one of the nuns at St. Paul and ask them first, if it was really humanly possible to renounce all sensual feelings (apparently St. Augustine was ready to renounce the sense of smell), as was propagated during St. Augustine’s time, and not be considered ‘retarded’ today. And second, if the letters were to be believed that Augustine did in fact love only one woman and stayed with her albeit unmarried, that the Church may have been responsible for ripping a family apart (they had one son); and that this may have been the cause of tremendous trauma St. Augustine suffered during his “formation” (described by religious books as terrible bouts with the devil).

Floria cleverly cited Augustine’s wish to have all Songs of David removed from the Church. She correctly pointed the contradiction because the Songs extol everyone to laugh, sing, and dance in praise of God. Living in those times she was brave to reject the Church based on her criticisms to St. Augustine’s confessions. She claimed she already has her God who created her and he comes with no theologians who judge her happiness.

In Floria’s description of their life together, I wondered whether St. Augustine’s experience had been exaggerated by the Church to once more stress the sinfulness of sensual pleasure. Some confessions of St. Augustine quoted (translated) in the book, about the many women he took to bed, was questioned by Floria as perhaps mere boasting like of a young man among his friends. Floria thinks this may have been done to emphasize a misplaced guilt in the man. After all, wouldn’t she know whether he’s really experienced with women or not?

Towards the end of the book Floria unwittingly predicted a reality that was to claim thousands of women’s lives by the hand of the Church, when, upon meeting her (and sinning) again, Augustus beat her up and sent her away without seeing her son.

“I shiver, for I fear the day will come when women like me will be done away with by the men of the universal church. And why will they be done with, your Grace? Because they remind you that you have denied your own soul and gifts. And for whom? For a God, you all say, for him who created a heaven above you and also an earth which actually holds women who bring you into the world”.

Centuries later, the Catholic Church began the Inquisition, which tortured and killed millions of women throughout the Christian world.

Sex and the City, the Movie

What struck me most was Samantha’s confession to Smith that she loves him but she loves herself more. This was after her disillusionment with the domestic life she had with “the one”. It grabbed me in its bold difference from the rest of Samantha’s friends’ dreams. She wanted to be with herself more than with the one she loves. This is honesty rarely heard of in my part of the globe. Indeed this is often considered selfish, foolish, and ‘whorish’ of her if she had been Asian. Yet I feel many women feel this way about their relationships. Even when they have the one perfect person, the life they shape with one another takes away from who they are. For majority of women I know, marriage IS shedding who you are. It is living for another forever. And if one loses oneself in the process this is considered a ‘necessary sacrifice’. No wonder so many married women grow bitter, insecure and judgmental towards others during the course of their married life. Somewhere in the back of their minds they remember what life was before the “sacrifice” yet are too ashamed to claim some of that life back.

Too often women had to see how marriage almost never changes anything for the husband, while it completely overturns the world of the wife. Indeed why should the husband go home immediately after work to a house he has been living in for twenty, thirty years? The furniture and spaces surely have not changed. Keeping house is almost automatically the responsibility of the wife. Except for the occasional chores, or during social functions or to watch the game, or indeed when there is an appointment with the wife in bed, what else is there in the house that needed getting home early to?

“I changed who I was for you”, said an angry Miranda to Steve. In order for them to get back together she had to forgive herself and her husband for that. I think this message makes the movie. It doesn’t pretend to predict a ‘happy ever after’ for the girls. It only provides glimpses of happiness from the choices that they make.