Timothy John Baker

If I were an American, I'd be Timothy John Baker.
I would be from Boston.

Masculinity Thing

You Are 47% Feminine, 53% Masculine

You are in touch with both your feminine and masculine sides. You're sensitive at the right times, but you don't let your emotions overwhelm you. You're not a eunuch, just the best of both genders.

Are You Masculine or Feminine?



Yes! I'm an X!!!! (it's a psych term. Look it up.) This doesn't do well for my macho image kuno though... HAhaHAhHAHHaahha...

Do NOT Support the Sumilao Farmers

SMC's projects in the province may actually be of more benefit to thousands of people in the province, as compared to the 55 farmers who lay claim to the 144 hectares.

If SMC puts up an industrial plant in the 144 hectare land currently under spotlight, they will be able to give jobs to hundreds of people in the community, and will be able to provide a market for the raw goods grown by thousands of local farmers. Wouldn't this be a better alternative than giving the land to 55 families? Imagine, sustained economic development in the region, through a stable market and jobs for thousands.

A thorough study of the case might lead you to this very same conclusion. The Governor of Bukidnon agrees with the industrialization of the Sumilao land.

The 55 Sumilao farmers claim is that Quisumbing, the original owner of the land was given five years to develop the land as an industrial area, and since he was unable to do so, the land should be reintegrated into Agrarian Reform to be distributed to the farmers.

Quisumbing maintained that he could not develop the property, because the Sumilao Farmers' continuous protests hindered him from a proper investment out of fear of the uncertainty of what may happen.

Basic Juris Prudence dictates that if a party is unable to comply with demands of it due to the persistence of another party which may benefit from the failure of the initial party, then the initial party may not be subjected to the original demands placed upon it.

I was graced by a personal interview with the former Assistant Administrator of the now defunct Agricultural Credit Administration, and he shared these views with me. This comes from a man who had dedicated his life to the service of he Filipino farmer. The same views are expressed by Governor Zubiri of Bukidnon. Again as in all my semi critical posts, this is an OPINION. Free Speech right?

from joel

read youir blog... You are a friend who i trust very much and is worth keeping for the rest of my life(no gay intentions bro) :D

To: All Friends Past and Present (I'm Asking a Favor)

Okay... it's nearly my birthday.

I want to know if I've done something for anyone in the past 20 years. I feel unfulfilled, abandoned, ashamed, and a lot of other derogatory adjectives and adverbs that would only serve to fill a ream of paper. So now... sarcasm aside, I want to ask what have I done to YOU as a person. What have I done RIGHT? What have I done WRONG? What MEMORIES fill your head when my name pops out in conversation? What idiosyncrasies do you remember of me? Please answer... and also, please answer properly. I just want to remember what you remember, and maybe it can prove to be a way where-in I can learn from everything you narrate to me. I can learn about what to work on, and how I've evolved over time... Please?

just email me or comment here, or IM me or something... Please... I'll give friendster testimonials and multiply comments to anyone who does... :D

mikecabology (Honrado, 2007)

Let others know a little more about yourself, repost "_______OLOGY"

Q: What is your wallpaper on your computer?
A: emoboy in ateneo.

Q: How many televisions are in your house?
A: 2

BIOLOGY

Q: Are you right-handed or left-handed?
A: Dextrous. dex comes from the latin for right. dextrous literally means "right handed"

Q: Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
A: hmmm... just that thing all Jewish andor Pinoy boys get chopped off...

Q: What is the last heavy item you lifted?
A: My mother :D


Q: Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
A: Never been unconscious...

(Tange, e pano pag tulog ka?! aber!?)

(insolent know nothing! semi-conscious ka pag tulog! how else would you explain physical stimuli entering dreams?) Psych crap... I'm sorry...


CRAPINOPOLOGY

Q: If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
A: yeah... for emo sake...

Q: If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
A: Jean, or maybe Mikio...

Q: What color/s do you think look best on you?
A: Green daw.......................... sabi ng lahat..............

Q: Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
A: OMG!!!!! CLAY-DOH!!!!!! 3 yrs old!!!!!!

Q: Have you ever saved someone's life?
A: indirectly...

Q: Has someone ever saved yours?
A: indirectly...


SUPIDIOLOGY

Q: Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
A: heck, I'll kiss a dog for $100... my mores say that no malice goes with anything.

Q: Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000
A: no.

Q: Would you never blog again for $50,000?
A: sure.

Q: Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
A: as long as: we're in a hospital, and I'm sedated, but conscious.

Q: Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human's life for $1,000,000?
A: no......


DUMBOLOGY

Q: What is in your left pocket?
A: nothing.

Q : Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
A: "It's like, soo not."

Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
A: hardwood!!

Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
A: Sit. I meditate in the shower.

Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
A: 10 or more :D

Q: Last time you had a run-in with the cops?
A: last night, I talked to a cop for fun.

Q: What do you want to be when you grow up?
A: a Psychiatrist

Q: Who is number 1 on your top 6?
A: 1??


LASTOLOGY

Q: Friend(s) you talked to?
A: Iris... on my mobile.

Q: Last person who called you?
A: Iris... on my mobile.

Q: Person you hugged?
A: Iris... on my mobile. (kaya niyo yun? yes! kaya yan!)

Q: Last person you kissed?
A: kiss goodnight mommy and lolo :D

FAVORITOLOGY

Q: Number?
A: 3

Q: Season?
A: Tag-ulan.

CURRENTOLOGY
Q: Missing someone?
A: nah...

Q: Mood?
A: mediocre.

Q: Watching?
A: my weight? :D

Q: Worrying about?
A: Psy103: Developmental Psychology, Hell Application.

Intra-Personal (A Memoir Homage to Rene O. Villanueva)

Rene O. Villanueva

(September 22, 1954 - December 5, 2007)

I will not act as if I had known him all my life. I will not pretend to be a constant follower of his works, nor will I bother to list the multitude of accomplishments he has gathered through the years. I will present who Rene Villanueva was to me. It is most important you understand that my point of view is rare and unlike any, for when I had gotten to spend time with him, I did not fully know who he was. He was simply introduced to us as "Rene O. Villanueva, children's writer for Adarna Books," and so my initial knowing of him was not of the literary genius that most begin to know him by, but rather of a man who simply wrote for a living. I met Sir Rene when I was 13 years old. I and a friend were invited to join a story writing and storytelling workshop sponsored by the Cultural Center of the Philippines. The workshop was originally for pubic pre-school and elementary teachers, but since two people backed out at the last minute, we two 13 year old know nothings took their place. We were to spend more than a week in a retreat house, in one of the more wooded areas in Silang, Cavite. When we had arrived there, the seminar immediately began. Sir Rene was the quietest man I had ever met. He was always at the back corner of the room, with his arms folded, leaning against the bamboo pillars of the seminar area. He left his co-presenter to do the necessary introductions, and when his name was called, he merely raised a hand, still silent, and then returned his hand into the tucked position beneath his arm. In the afternoon, the formal workshop would begin. He was the first to present to us his seminar on story writing. He sat there with us on the wooden floor, and calmly gave his lecture. He requested we search our thoughts for an everyday item, and write a story regarding it. He taught us that being too obsessed with our grammar during the initial stages of writing would only hinder our creative flow. He taught us that when we write, we should always think about our audience. Writing is never supposed to be an act of selfishness. Good writing is always done with the audience in mind. Find common ground with your audience. You are connected via the things you write, and the stronger the connection between you and your audience, the better the piece of literature. We then read our stories one by one to our 14 fellow participants in the seminar. He then gave comments and suggestions to each story. My story was of a tin can that had been rolling around Manila for a decade. I wanted to catch my audience’s attention by relating to them the familiar filth and poverty that littered the city. I felt proud of my work, which was well written, and with social value. When I had ceased my narration, he stared at me with that blank stare that never seemed to leave his face, and he said, “That was good, but no one likes a preachy can.” He told me that the idea was nice, but when the can started to critique the situation versus being just a spectator, it became comical. That was a lesson I never forgot. After his story writing seminar, the story telling seminar began. He stayed with us even during the story telling workshop, although as before his own workshop began, he was standing at the back with his arms folded again. In the seminar, we were asked to read to some local children, a book from Adarna Books. I was constantly under fire from the presenter because my Filipino wasn’t as well developed as that of my constituents. To give a clue, the presenter used to call me “English Boy.” It was at this point, where I in my pride, chose to read to the children in Filipino. The book I was tasked to read was entitled “War Makes Me Sad” by Ordinario. The presenter gave me the book because it was the only one in English, although it had Filipino subtitles. It was a book about a Muslim girl caught between the crossfire of a Moro-Christian battle in Mindanao. I studied the book as best I could, and I got pronunciation lessons from some of my companions, but in the end, I could not fully project the full spectrum of emotions shown by the piece. It was at this point, as I was practicing one day in the main hall that Sir Rene sat down beside me and asked if he could help me. He took me to the back portion of the main hall and told me that “A story should be said in the comfort of your own language.” He continued to say that it would be better to deliver the story in English, where I would be able to fully use my understanding of the language to give life to the story. I decided though that I was to deliver the story in Filipino. He nodded, and was supportive. He gave me tips on how to read properly. He listened to my recitations and commented on how I could improve myself. He basically taught me how intonations and stresses in Filipino were very different from English. He also taught me that words are not the only means of how an author can connect with an audience. An author is not merely a writer, but he is most importantly a story teller. You do not just tell “a story”, but rather “someone’s story.” By telling the character’s story, the story teller can gain an even closer bond with the audience, and when stories are told properly, the person reaches the final goal of all story tellers, which is to bring emotion to people’s lives. To bring emotion to people’s lives; that would be the thrust that would drive me forward in literary study. I was given a task, which is to be able to bring emotion into an impersonal world. When I told the story of the Muslim girl who hated war, it was a personal landmark in many ways. It was the first time I had told someone’s story in my native language. It was also what I consider my true literary awakening. I wish to be at least half the story teller Rene Villanueva was. He taught me many things in the days of the seminar, but with all the great lessons I learned, he left me with one last. Fairy tales don’t always have to end the way they were meant to. A character might search for gold, yet find an even greater treasure at the end. He was truly a great man, and a giant of a literary figure. In the end though, it wasn’t what he wrote that made him such a great man in my eyes, but rather, it was his great understanding of the close relation of stories and human emotion.

Congrats On 11 COEs!!! (Warning: Pagyayabang Extreme)

11 CENTERS OF EXCELLENCE
and to make it all the more sweeter...

LONE AWARDEE for CENTER OF EXCELLENCE in...
BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION
and
ENTREPRENEURSHIP

Go! Ateneo!

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

Henri Marie Raymond de Toulouse-Lautrec Monfa, a French artist, was born to the family of the Comte Alfonse and Comtess Adelle de Toulouse-Lautrec on November 24, 1864. He was a sickly boy from the very beginning, owing mostly to the fact that since his family is of the French aristocracy; his lineage was tainted by years of incest, and the corresponding genetic disorders commonly derived from it. An example of such incest is the marriage of his parents who are first cousins. Scholars mainly attribute a genetic disorder to cause the events that would eventually change his life forever. The disease Henri was inflicted with is called Pyknodysostosis and was, in more modern times, renamed after him as Toulouse-Lautrec Syndrome. This very uncommon disease of the bone causing rickets, and eventually causing leg bones to cease growing, was discovered in Henri in his pre-teens, when he had fractured both his legs, in two separate accidents. Although his torso continued to grow, his legs retained their length as when they were fractured, never to heal. His full adult height was merely 4’5”. After his mishaps, he was secluded within the walls of his home, mostly painting or drawing on any surface available. When he turned 18 years old, he became the student of a prominent artist in Paris, where his artistic skills were more thoroughly developed. He then spent the remainder of his life in the Parisian town of Montmartre living with art and liquor, in one of the liveliest and most well known entertainment districts in the world. He died at the age of 37 due to excessive alcohol intake, which aggravated a venereal disease he had earlier gotten.

Individual Psychology can look at Toulouse-Lautrec’s development in many ways, but what is most prominent in his example is his exemplar will to strive for success. Although he was greatly stunted by his body, this never stopped him from wanting to excel in things that he could excel in, and as a direct consequence of his inability to exemplify himself in other aspects of living such as sports, he simply shrugged away the subject in a very cynical, defensive manner, as was attested to by friends and acquaintances. Henri was a very intelligent child to begin with. Documentations of his childhood show him as an aggressive figure who hated to lose. He also established dominance over others to compensate for his weak physiology. He liked to show off his intelligence to all, once talking in perfect English to the family’s vassals, just to show off his knowledge. He also made it a point to be competitive, yet to maintain a friendly relationship with his cousins and siblings. After the incidence of his fractures though, he dwelt more on art and the theatre as his stage for success striving. His art which uses a post modernist style ala Degas is different from other post modernists. His inspiration came mostly from the daily life in Montmartre, from the walking hours of a couple in bed, to the lively night shows of the French cabarets, or scenes within the brothels, which he used to frequent. His work is said to be more vivid, yet more realistic than most post modernists. He paid a very great attention to detail, and persevered to maintain the realism of his work, while giving it more passion through more vivid coloring, and at all times maintaining the high artistic value of aesthetics. He prided himself in his work. Although he maintained many idols in the artistic sense, he always wanted to be different if not better than them.

In friendships, he chose the avant garde. He was continuously with cabaret dancers, prostitutes, fellow artists, and stage actors. He respected all equally, and had a strangely strong belief in human equality, which is a kind of reaction formation for being treated so differently by others. His friends maintain though that he was for the most part, a “frank and cynical sardonic.” He was said to have treated everyone equally, but equal in the sense that they were all treated with the same indifferent mocking. They also attest to the fact that he was prone to depression attacks, especially when he sees a person who “lives a life he cannot live.” Henri always considered himself a huntsman manque or human hunter. He loved seeking out people that piqued jis interest. Biographies show that this may be because of his training in hunting when he was younger. Since his body failed to allow him ro hunt foxes and game, he hunted people, in a sense. Another expression of his drive for superiority is the fact that he loved boating. He was resigned to the fact that he could not excel in sports because of his disability, but as boating doesn’t need string legs, but rather, a strong torso, he strove to excel in it. Another example is his love of dressing up, or being in the theatre. His father had the very same hobby, and the believed reason for his inheritance of the hobby is that initially he treated his father as a rival, yet he loved his father. His costumes were always more modern, or more diverse than his father’s.

In summary, Individual Psychology states that the reason for striving for perfection is to overcome difficulties. It also states that success striving is a mechanism of the inferiority complex. How much one strives due to the inferiority complex is dependent on the degree of trained social interest. Adaptation, training, and learning are important for striving for success to ensue. In Henri’s case, we see that it is in some way a textbook case. He only strived in areas wherein he was trained or grew accustomed to, such as in art, theatre, and languages. As his physical state inhibited his mental capacity, and since a trained social interest in sports and hunting was also instilled, Henri made up for his deficiency by finding similar niches that suited his disability. Another very interesting fact is that he never cried. Even when he was in extreme pain, or in his childhood when he broke his legs and they discovered they would never heal or grow, he never shed a tear. He maintained his stance of superiority until the day he died. His last words, given to his own father were, “You old fool.”

To The Girl Who Chose Home

Don't think that I don't mind. If anything, out of all of them who say they sympathize, I'm quite sure that I'm the one who will dwell on this most. It's a thought not best remembered, but things that were never meant for me to ponder, I have. I will treat this as what my mind in psychic form wills itself to manifest; which is as the flood of tears that fall as silent mist upon a sun dry lip, or as the inner echos of a scream, silent yet far reaching, from the hardened chambers of emotional being.

I hold your symbol in my hands.

That is how much has to be spilled for my guilt.

The reproach was mild, and coy was the banter, with life lessons sublimed into the delivery. As important as you are to me, so is the pedestal on which you stand. Maybe deliverance does have it's prize, but the price one drops to fulfill the say is higher than if you had never had the say at all. Did you have to do such? No, maybe out of all the clay dolls that paraded in sweet surrended before my eyes, you were by far the most substantial. You sought to return to the oven from which you came. You were formed not by our fires, but by the fires of yours. Too hot was your skin to have been strong to survive, or maybe too fresh from the pick.

Everything for once is familliar.

Not though in comfort, but in change.

What now that the rage and rainbow fish of ninety's lore have gone through the mind, and out the window? The perspiration fails to bead, and the shaking of my limbs have numbed. This fear is far beyond the fear you face. You return to which my fear negates in existence. You leave behind which in existence my fear negates. The spinning cannot stop, and I am not so naive to try to do so. We are past the point where you talk and I listen. I hand picked you from the garden, o ingrateful grape. No, the grape may choose to roll it's own. I just hoped the grape would be still in my palm, so I may one day savor it's delight.

Goodbye good grape

clay doll

twin pedestal

fear.

I'll miss you.