Potty-Mouthed Parents and the Resume-Padding Dean

Prepare yourselves for my take on these two issues: 1) the outing of potty-mouthed parents and 2) the firing of the resume-padding MIT dean.

1) The Public Crucifixion of Potty-Mouthed Parents

The celebrity world, and the larger world that follows it, has long been abuzz with Alec Baldwin's voice message to his daughter. As may be expected, different people have weighed in on the issue, with the majority response being "oh my goodness, Alec is a horrible father, and a threat to his daughter." The judge in charge of the Baldwin's custody case seems to fall squarely on that side of the fence, as she issued a restraining order shortly after being informed of this message.

I know there are different possible angles with which to look at and comment on this matter (i.e. parental alienation), but I've no interest in any of them except for one - the public judgment of Alec Baldwin. Let me make clear, now and forever, that I am no fan of this actor. The only movie I remember seeing him in is Notting Hill, and he lost my favor completely and irrevocably when he made poor Hugh Grant take out the trash in that scene with Julia Roberts. What I will say though is that the public condemnation of this guy, based on that one phone message, is largely undeserved.

I think that people do not have the right to judge the parental qualities of another based on an isolated incident. (I'm saying this was an isolated incident because all the criticism seems to be focusing on that one voice message.) It's very difficult to take an action out of context and to judge it as such. Even the killing of another human being can be either justified or excused (depending on how you look at it) based on the context in which it was done. I'm not saying that I advocate this particular way of raising a child, or that I think that every act is inherently subjective and cannot be judged on its objective merits alone. All I am saying is that this one act is not representative of him as a father, and it is no one's business to judge his character, and to take action, solely because of it.

I also think that people are being highly intrusive for weighing in on this issue. There are privacy rights, and the right of parents to raise their children as they deem fit is one of the most well-established rights in juvenile law. Different contexts call for different responses. More, not everyone can be expected to be as politically correct as, say, Steve Covey when their blood is boiling and when emotions are running high. I think Alec was wronged when that phone message was made public. And I think it was in bad taste for it to have ever been published in the first place.

This is exactly how I feel about another similar issue, that of the YouTube video of a religious mom who's upset upon hearing her son say he's an atheist. For one thing, I think whoever filmed that video and posted it online was out of place in doing so. What upsets me even more is to read about how some people have been so self-righteous and judgmental about this incident.

In an article for The Harvard Crimson, Jimmy Y. Li weighs in on this video, saying

“You’re an atheist? Give me a fucking break.” That’s not exactly the kind of language you ever expect a mother to use, especially when talking to her own son. Yet, at the beginning of “Pissed Catholic Mother,” an alarming video posted on YouTube earlier this month, the mother says those exact words to her son—who looks to be about 13—after he tells her that he’s an atheist. ... “Pissed Catholic Mother” is shocking and disturbing to say the least, and it’s probably safe to assume that most parents would not respond with such hurtful and abusive language if their child were to tell them he or she is an atheist.

For the full article, click here.

I didn't even go on to read the rest of the article. I just stopped at that part. What was the point in loading the statement with judgments? What was the point in playing a Dr. Be Calm and using this as an "alarming" example of horrible mothering? Well, I know what his point was - he wanted to come up with a good intro. But my point is that he should not have chosen to make this point by blatantly insulting the character of the mother.

People make mistakes in private. They do stupid things, they use foul language (yes, even mothers), they say things they later regret. They shouldn't have to be called to account for that behavior in public - except of course if the behavior has been either tortious or criminal. The public knows nothing of who they are apart from their publicized behavior, nothing about their relationship with the people involved, nothing about whether everything related to that incident has been atoned for. People shouldn't capitalize on these private-made-public mistakes to make them feel like better people. That's just uncalled for and very intrusive.

Alec, you shouldn't have made that public apology. Just like you shouldn't have made Hugh Grant take out the trash.

2) The Resume-Padding MIT Dean of Admissions

The admissions dean of MIT invented her educational credentials. An anonymous caller blew her cover. She resigned.

Here is an excerpt from her personal statement:

I misrepresented my academic degrees when I first applied to MIT 28 years ago and did not have the courage to correct my resume when I applied for my current job or at any time since.

Full text of the statement here.

I feel bad for this lady. From the different accounts I've read of her, she seems to have been well-respected in the academic community, and people don't seem to have questioned her capacity to do her job well. I guess her mistake is that she thought no one would check, and no one would find out. It had been 28 years since she first gave that resume out after all.

I understand the position of MIT in this matter, and I think they did the right thing. But I also sympathize with her. Once you get into a job based on a fake resume, there's no going back. You reveal the dishonesty, you lose your job. People don't like being made fools of.

On an entirely different note, I wonder what's going to happen to her now. Will people hire a former MIT admissions dean who might not even be a college graduate?

VTech Massacre

I have been following the VTech shooting extensively since Day 1. I kept my browser on CNN and the Drudge Report so I'd have the latest news. I saw the manifesto that Cho Seung-Hui sent to NBC news - saw the pictures and watched the clips. I've been following this for a long time, and I think I'm ready to share my thoughts on the matter.

Before I say anything, though, I would like to extend my deepest sympathies and condolences to the families and friends of the victims. And of the shooter. My prayers are with you.

I would also like to make clear that I am doing this because I believe that, while the tragedy itself must be carefully examined, the reactions to it should be examined as well. It's easy to be careless when emotions are running high. Furthermore, I am not an American. I was born and raised in Manila, and I came here specifically for law school more or less two years ago. This is the perspective of someone who is not from here.

Disclaimers and clarifications aside, there are three things I'd like to comment on: 1) the 'racist' portrayal of the media, 2) the disturbing plays that Cho wrote that supposedly foreshadowed his violent crime, and 3) the airing of the manifesto.

1. The 'Racist' Portrayal of the Media

I have heard and read different versions of this concern. Margaret Cho has released a statement that expresses this well:

So here is the whole terrible mess of the shootings at Virginia Tech. I look at the shooter's expressionless face on the news and he looks so familiar, like he could be in my family. Just another one of us. But how can he be us when what he has done is so terrible? Here is where I can really envy white people because when white people do something that is inexplicably awful, so brutally and horribly wrong, nobody says – “do you think it is because he is white?” There are no headlines calling him the “White shooter." There is no mention of race because there is no thought in anyone's mind that his race had anything to do with his crime.

So much attention is focused on the Asian-ness of the shooter, how the Korean community is reacting to it, South Korea's careful condolences and cautiously expressed fear that it will somehow impact the South Korean population at large.

The full statement can be found here.

The statement is eloquent and heartfelt. There is no doubting the sincerity in her words. But there is a huge logical jump, I feel, between Cho being labelled the Korean shooter, and the supposed implication that race had something to do with his crime. When headlines in Manila say "American Peace Corps Volunteer Killed," I don't think that anyone is suggesting that the race of the victim had anything to do with the victimization. Well, bad example, because terrorists have been known to target foreigners, just to get more attention.

Okay, how about this - if USA Today says Swiss Man Sentenced for Defacing Images of Thai King , I don't think anyone would think that since the nationality of the Swiss was mentioned in the headlines, then the media is implying that the Swiss are more likely to deface Thai Kings.

Ah, but you might say that this is different, because we're talking about local media reporting on a local incident and labelling someone who is practically an American (by virtue of him growing up here) a Korean instead. For one thing, the labelling might not be totally unjustified, as Cho did retain his Korean citizenship. For another, and more importantly, if the concern is that minorities aren't considered American, regardless of their life experiences being very American, then I think it's a valid concern, and I'll completely back off if that's what the concern is. But, if Margaret Cho's piece is at all representative, I really don't think most people are following this line of thought.

Next, there's the concern about how "[s]o much attention is focused on the Asian-ness of the shooter, how the Korean community is reacting to it, South Korea's careful condolences and cautiously expressed fear that it will somehow impact the South Korean population at large." Well, is this attention unfounded? If the Korean community has very strong reactions to this event (i.e. parents pulling their children out of school, the Asians on campus feeling as though they had to stick together to avoid retaliatory actions), then why fault the media for featuring this? And more importantly, if the South Korean government gave an official statement expressing their concern about the South Korean population, then why fault the media for putting this out there? I'm no diplomat, but I think it'd be a serious insult not to say anything about it.

My take on this is simple. You can't have it both ways. If you identify yourself as a distinct group with your own culture, and you and your own treat yourself as such, then don't fault others if they take the cue from you and do the same.

2. Disturbing Plays Lead to Disturbing Crime

While I did seem to be defending the media in the previous section, there is one aspect of the coverage that has me fuming - the whole bit about how "Cho wrote disturbing plays and therefore was more likely to kill." What in the world? Oh, I'm not saying that there isn't a correlation between what a person writes and what is going on in that person's head. After all, how do you write what is not in your head?

But what I will say is this: it is entirely erroneous to assume that a person who writes violent plays (or other art forms) will then go on to commit violent crimes. This is precisely what the media is highlighting, no doubt about that. That's why this classmate of his posted those plays online, and said that he and his other classmates had suspicions that Cho was a school shooter. That's why this teacher of his is going on and on and on about how, when she heard about the killing, she would have been surprised if it hadn't been Cho.

Come on, people. So now, we should probably arrest Anthony Burgess (at least when we got the chance, because he's not here anymore) and Quentin Tarantino. The blood! The gore! The capacity to kill! What's the difference between Cho and these three people? Ah, the lack of talent, maybe. So yeah, lack of talent now makes one more likely to kill. Good think Anthony can write. Or good thing that the critics think that Anthony can write, and think that A Clockwork Orange is a masterpiece.

If you think that this is a harmless assumption that won't lead to harm, then think again. Look at the case of Allan Lee, a straight A high school student who was arrested and charged for "disorderly conduct" for, get this, submitting an essay in an English class that the teacher thought was "violently disturbing." Granted, the police said that "disorderly conduct" can apply when "someone's writing disturbs an individual." But this was a creative writing class. A class to get creative. A class to turn a paper in and get a grade. Not a class to turn a paper in and get arrested for disorderly conduct! How was this disorderly conduct?! It was in the context of a class. Oh, did Allan do the chicken dance while turning this in? Yeah, that probably explains it. Cause the news article certainly doesn't.

Bottomline is that the writings of Cho are relevant because he committed the violent massacre. That's the only reason they are relevant. Without the Cho-factor and without the massacre, a violent piece of writing is just that - a violent piece of writing. It is not an arrest warrant.

3. The Airing of Cho's Manifesto

Ah, here is a topic I can talk about without venom. While I agree that there is a public interest in being informed to the greatest extent possible about an issue of interest and concern (i.e. the VTech shooting), I also think that there's an even greater public interest in preventing copycat crimes and the glorification of an outcast figure that not just a few people can relate to.

From the reports coming in, I get the impression that Cho was a very awkward person who kept to himself. He was thought of as weird, shunned as an outcast, and made fun of. Aren't there always people like that in any school system? Wouldn't you think they'd be eager for a chance at revenge, for an opportunity to have the last laugh when everyone else is picking on them? I'd answer all my questions with a yes.

I watched the videos and saw the manifesto. I wanted to see it, to try to understand why this guy was raging at an invisble or entirely imagined enemy. Well, I saw the manifesto, and got very disturbed. Honestly, I was terrified - terrified that a human being like me could be capable of so much rage and anger, that he could be so cold and calculating as to treat lives as objects and just shoot them down, one by one. And after seeing the manifesto, I came away with a strong resolve that I would never be like him, never come close to being like him. I have pledged my life to the Lord, and to Him is the glory in all that I do.

I would never want to be like Cho, but I bet that are misguided kids out there who now wish to be just like him.

Ka-Ching

This is my last class of my second year in law school. Just turned in my TCE (teacher-something-evaluation), and am waiting for others to do the same. The professor can't actually enter the classroom right now, so we're just bumming around (happily) and waiting for the TCE proctor to go away.

This can't be a long post, as I think my professor will notice my frantic typing in the middle of class. But anyway, there's something I wanted to share. To my debating friends, remember the Oxford finals? The one where they took a video of me and Ollie? Well, after almost four years of using my name and video on their website, they finally paid me. I am 50 pounds richer as a result. (That's English pounds. No wise cracks.)

Yahoo!!! Money makes this poor law student happy.

* * *

So, I said that I'd blog about my take on the world, and so far, all I've been blogging about is me. Grin. Well, it's finals time. It's me time. Me, me, me. You, you, you. Nah, that didn't sound right. Me, me, me.

Productivity

Okay, I admit it - I am feeling the urge to be productive right now. Not in the sense of "I want to start buckling down and studying for finals" (although it'd be awesome if I felt that way, as finals are just around the corner), but in the sense of "I want to produce something, use my labor to come up with a product."

I'm being neither sarcastic nor dramatic. And that's the sad part.

I just feel the itch to do some busy work and get things moving. The last time I did this was in my senior year in high school, when I was the head of the debating club. My members and I did a lot of good things that year (i.e. best hosting job ever), and, while I had to stay up late working on proposals and doing other admin stuff that came with the position, I was happy. Satisfied and happy.

When I got to college, I shunned admin stuff completely, but I was very active in the competitive debating scene. And this was really the perfect route for me. I got to do what I wanted, and I didn't have to do what I didn't want to do. Besides, if you're sent to South Africa to represent the school, it's hard to find something to complain about.

But now, there is reason to complain. Ugh. There's no outlet apart from school for me, no assurance that aside from school or even in spite of it, I am doing something worthwhile. This is a really sad realization, given that I will be graduating next year and leaving South Behind forever. I remember my college professor who always reminded us to "live, love, and leave a legacy." (Or wait, was it some Covey guy who said that?)

The point is that I have been living, I have been loving, but I have no legacy to leave here. That is just so sad. There's nothing wrong with that, I suppose, but I have never been one of those people who were satisfied with just passing in the night. I want to do something, damn it.

To be fair, I did handle a project for this org that I'm a part of. That turned out okay, I suppose, but I didn't find fulfillment working on it, for reasons I shall be keeping to myself, and I'm not too excited to do something like that again.

Well, I have several prospects for next year, and a huge one for this summer. There are a lot of opportunities to be productive and to do something. Watch me go for gold, friends - the Productive C is back in the game.

* * *

I am suffering from tinnitus. I'm not sure if I have the objective one or the basic one, but I am pretty sure that this is the condition that assailed me last night. Was lying in bed, trying to sleep, when I heard a chorus of bells. My gut feel told me that I was either being crazy or possessed, and I was already summoning St. Michael the Archangel to my side, when I remembered Archie Andrews and the gang, my good ol' friends from Riverdale High.

I remembered that cartoon strip where Reggie Mantle and Veronica Lodge put bells on Betty Cooper's hair, and Betty thought she was going crazy and she was crying and being otherwise, well, crazy. And then Ms. Grundy demanded to know what was going on, and saw the bells and figured everything out.

When I remembered that, I breathed a sigh of relief and closed my eyes. I wasn't going crazy - Reggie and Veronica had just put bells on my hair.

* * *

My sleeping schedule is out of whack. Dang those two papers. Yesterday, I went to bed at around 7:30 P.M., got up at around 12 M.N., and then went to bed again at around 5:00 P.M.. For those five hours that I was awake, I fixed this blog up and then chatted with my sister who's in California. And then the bells happened. I slept at 5 A.M., and woke up again at around 3 P.M.. And here, I am making a web appearance. Hey, wait a minute - so I am being productive after all.

A New Beginning

Have been meaning to ressurect my online presence for some time now. Things have been happening in the world, and I find myself with an opinion on almost every single one of them. I usually blurt them out to my friends or else write them in my journal, but am thinking it's time to share some of those thoughts now. I cannot be selfish with my wisdom.

Got a private motive in that too, of course, quite apart from the warm feeling I get when I am of service to humanity. I am the most avid web surfer I know, and I come across the most interesting things in my online journeys. Will be dropping some bread crumbs as I go my way. I think they'd make for interesting reads.

And one other reason I did this now is to have a reprieve from law school. In the past two days, I have rid myself of four credits. That's two 20+ papers off my hands and into my prayers. And in just two weeks, it's time for finals again. Whoopee. Ah, school is always a good reason to vent. If my ranting doesn't sound appealing to you, just stick with me anyway, because in three weeks, I'm off to Chicago for to be wined and dined, big-time.

Well, this is all for now, folks. I have just spent the past hour or so revamping the site, and I'm ready to get out of here. One episode of Boston Legal and then it's off to bed for me.

OH. Before that, I just want to say that I've gone back to the original title, "Chameleon Sofia." Not the Gunner, not the Highlighter, not Light Metaphors. It's Chameleon Sofia again. If you want to know why, see Alpha.

I've Moved

Catch me here.

Got too lazy to send out those private invitations. So come one, come all. Join the party and be merry. I'll see you when you get there.

Chameleon Sofia, rest in peace.

I'm Back

This is the question: have I gotten my act together? This is my answer: no. End of story.

* * *

It's going to sound awfully trite to start this post by announcing that I have work to do and that I am blogging so that I can focus enough to work, but that's the truth, and the truth can be trite. Got tired of writing in my journal, which has admittedly been getting more interesting since I closed this channel down. There's something to be said about writing for an audience, methinks, even an imaginary one.

* * *

Nerd that I am, I am actually looking forward to working on my three huge papers for this sem. (What makes this even more nerdy is that today is officially the start of Fall Break. Then again, I am blogging instead of working, so I haven't gone completely mad.) One paper is more important than all the rest, as it ties in with my grandiose dreams of Jessup glory. Of course, that's going to get the most attention. And that paper will kick ass, even if I have to shoot Monster Juice into my system for three weeks straight. But the second most important paper is pretty interesting too, because it's a policy volcano waiting to erupt, and heaven knows how much I like speculating about policy. The least interesting one is hard to describe without being too specific, so I won't even try.

* * *

I've been doing a lot of traveling over the past five weeks. Started this 'journey' on Sept. 11 with a flight to New York. Thought that was strangely symbolic. Every week after that, I'd visit at least one state and at most three. One week, for example, I stayed for two nights in Pittsburgh, one night in Manhattan, and then four nights in San Francisco. The good thing about Manhattan was the Toys R Us along Times Square. The good thing about San Francisco was (apart from hanging out with my sister) Fisherman's Wharf at night. And the good thing about Pittsburgh was the black computer bag I got at half-price.

* * *

Don't feel like playing the part of a travel writer at this point, so I'll just blurt out my impressions about the cities I've visited. First, I don't like New York City. It's too fast-paced and busy, and I could literally feel my head spinning when I explored the city on foot and encountered all the world citizens and cuisines that were crammed into that tiny island. There's too much going on is the thing. My semi-autistic tendencies can't support me living there. Oh, but I did catch a glimpse of Justin Timberlake when I was there. I though that was cool. Second, I don't like Pittsburgh. I flew in on a Sunday, and everything was closed. I was forcibly reminded of Gotham City without Batman, and when I flew out, I knew I wasn't coming back. Third, I like San Francisco. I got a wide view of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz from some not-so-random office building, and it was postcard-perfect. I strolled through Fisherman's Wharf and got close enough to the honking seals in Pier 9 to remember that they smelled really bad. I rode the Cable Car around the city one night. And I even hung out for a bit in the gay district, Castro. There was this guy in a black leather vest whose nipples resembled cow nipples, all long and pink. I did a double-take when I caught sight of them. Then I glanced at the owner's face, and quickly remembered why I really shouldn't stare. And fourth, I am deep-in-lust with Chicago.

* * *

My impression of Chicago might be biased. When I was there for the first time (at least since coming over to the Midwest), my friend and I went to the Adler Planetarium and the Art Institute of Chicago. When I was there for the second time, my two friends and I went around the Art Institute and then had lunch in this snazzy restaurant that served really good salmon. And when I was there for the third time, I was booked in the Hotel Intercontinental along North Michigan Ave., one block away from the Magnificent Mile and across the street from Nordstrom. And then there was the food - I treated myself to Pizzeria Uno, and family friends treated me to a laureat somewhere in Chinatown. And most importantly, I got the full-blast of the skyline along Lake Michigan on a black night. Talk about a romantic view. The best part is that it was all for me.

* * *

It was snowing this morning. Talk about crazy weather, much? Just peeked outside a few minutes ago, and the snow is all gone. I'm trying not to think too far ahead, because when I do, yellow slush and wet concrete come to mind. I hate winter.

* * *

Want to hear something completely random? Two nights ago, I watched the Bayanihan Dance Troupe in the school theater. They were amazing. I especially liked the second half of the show, where they had this dance on a three-level park bench. The girl was being pulled over the place, hopping from bench to bench. That was awe-inspiring. I also liked the Moro fight scene they had, all swords and semi-Arnis moves. Of course, they did the Pandanggo sa Ilaw (i.e. the candle dance, which I never really liked because I find it too girly) and tinikling (which I like only when the beat gets really fast). And there was this dancer who did a solo, and she was so graceful. Her hand moves reminded me of the Thai traditional dance, but she didn't have those long golden extensions. And yet her fingers were flying all over the place. Wow Philippines, indeed.

After the show, I was mingling with the other Filipinos in the audience. And then I met the mom of an Ateneo basketball varsity player who knows an ADS debater of about three batches ahead. I also met people who know my Tita in London, who used to be a member of the Bayanihan. That was a good night. I'm so glad that I was there instead of some random hotel in Manhattan. Lesson of the story: there's something to be said about ditching what you really don't feel like doing.

* * *

This is shameless self-promotion, but whatever - it's my birthday in exactly a week. Happy birthday to me. Oh and just so you know, if I do decide to keep blogging, I'm ditching this site and moving to a new one, with my new location to be revealed to a select group of people, by invitation only. It's so funny that over the past week, no less than three of my friends have done that. We'll see how that turns out.

So Long, Farewell, I Need to Say Good-bye

I've got to pull my act together, so this blog's got to go. I'll return to it at some point I suppose, which is why I'm not deleting it, but I just felt melodramatic enough to announce my departure.

Since I won't be posting here anymore (at least not for a long while), I expect you all to entertain me with frequent updates on your blogs.

Paalam na. Sayonara. Until we meet again.

Exhaustion

I am so exhausted right now. I just want to crawl back in bed and sleep the whole day, but I'm resisting the urge to because 1) I've already slept for 10 hours, and I know I'll get sleepier if I sleep any more and 2) my job requires me to help someone in about an hour.

Let no one ever, ever tell me that I am a spoiled brat who can't work for crap. My hands are calloused now from all my manual labor - from pushing the red dolly to lifting and catching big brown boxes to washing my clothes, kuskus-piga style (Okay, the last one wasn't for my job. It was just something that I had to do.). And my mind is spinning from all the journal articles that I've gone through since three weeks ago. Business Week may be an awesome magazine, but if you read something like it for eight hours a day, five days a week, you'll probably start associating it with a novel by a dreamer who thinks he can write but can't. Whoa, that was exceptionally angsty.

Yeah, I apologize. I just feel annoyed right now, because I still have to clock in ten hours of research to fill in my weekly (self-imposed) quota and then there's that thing to write and this apartment to clean up. I miss my household help. I wish I could fly them here for just one day. They'll have this place fixed up in no time, guaranteed. But no. I have to fix my own stuff. And heaven knows how absolutely brilliant I am at doing that.

When I was packing up two nights ago, I was so tired and confused that I kept sitting down to take five minute breaks. My friend, who was providing moral support and nothing else, said, "Camille, stand up and get to work. You don't have time to sit around." I glared at him and said very precisely, "Shut. Up."

But you know, I guess that's what I should do. I should shut up and get to work, because whining here won't accomplish anything. But escapism is my clutch, and I think it's way too late to kick that habit now. After work yesterday, I headed off to the lake because I didn't want to go to my new apartment. I like the location and set-up of the new apartment, but I can't bear to be there right now, because the state of it reminds me of my state. Kalat, kalat, kalat. Anyway, I ended up having a one-hour-and-a-half conversation with Abu, a high school friend, who came here after high school graduation, a few months after Mardi, who I was speaking with last week, did.

We talked about a lot of random and private stuff, so I won't say anything of that here. But I just have to share this - I was like, "Abu, are you coming to Northwestern for med school this fall? Miyan and I are trying to convince Gi to take her internship in Chicago so we'll all be near each other." She said, "Nah, I'm not going to Northwestern. I've decided to go to Yale."

Ooh, barracuda! And that's the story of my kick-ass friend. And since I'm feeling really happy for and proud of her now, I'll end this post and attack my bathroom. I guess it's true that good emotions give you energy.

On Limping Ducks and Newness

I perched myself on a large rock near the lake. At first, I put my feet on the rock, so I could rest my elbows on my knees. But my feet kept slipping down - either the rock was slippery or my relatively new sneakers had lost their traction. I tried to keep my feet on the rock a few times, but gravity was persistent. I straightened my legs and crossed them. I stopped fighting the downward force and relented. In quitting and giving up, I found peace.

* * *
I saw a brown duck limping after a colorful one. I didn't understand what I saw. Why didn't the bird just fly? It had obviously hurt its leg, so why didn't it just soar into the air and escape from the pain of each step? Was it because of the boy duck? Stupid bird, if that was so. That peacock wasn't even looking at you, birdbrain. I cocked my head and looked at the duck. Hey bird, I said, if I chopped off your head and legs, you'd be a football, and I'll throw you real high, anywhere you want to go, you just name it. But I can't do that, I said. I am not a murderer, and I think you want to live.

* * *
I was talking to a high school friend while perched on that rock. Back in the days, she was my telephone and letter buddy. We'd spend more than five hours talking to each other on the phone and then we'd pass each other letters when we'd see each other in school. But then she left and moved here, and the e-mails were infrequent and far in-between. Now that I am here, she is just a call away again, just like the old days. But in some ways, it is not just like the old days. We're older now, more responsible, and we don't have the luxury of talking on the phone for hours at end. And even if we did, we'd have better things to do with our time. That world-rocking project needs to be turned in, and the clock that is life is ticking away - year after year after year.

* * *
A few months ago, I wanted a guitar. I have a really good guitar back home, but I don't have one here. But that desire passed away, and I never got one. I'm glad. Where will I find the time to strum and pluck those six strings when I can't even attend to my own headful of hair? But I wish the chapel here had a guitar, with nylon strings instead of steel ones, because the steel ones hurt more. That would make me happy, I think. Crap, I think I want a guitar again.

* * *
My friend told me that when you cut your hair, you cut away the bad luck from your life and invite the good luck in. Two Fridays ago, I had more than six inches cut from my hair. I thought I was being symbolic. New phase, new season, new hair, new life. The stage was set for the newness of everything.

But I find now that things are not new. Objectively, they are, but relatively and really, they aren't. I find that newness is a pretense, a promising concept that is entirely absent from reality. How can a day be brand new? Does sleep make a day brand new? So how about those who don't sleep? Or how about those who nap?

Days are not brand new. They carry over from the days passed. When the sun rises, you don't start from scratch. You write on and continue. That's all that you can do, and that's all there is. Newness is imaginary. It's like a fairy tale - you can believe in it and hope, but you can't make it come true.