Post Mortem 3

We were both silent. Inside our hearts we had a million things to say; fresh wounds that bleed out the blood of spent time, of love shared, and of the oneness of souls. Life to a relationship.

I wanted to say so much about how I had loved her, and how I miss her so very badly.

She wanted to say how much time they had spent laughing together, of all the intimate knowledge of each other that only each has known of the other.

"Mike, look for a prayer na. We need to start praying later... but he has to know first. He has to know before we start praying."

The Missa pro defunctis. The Requiem in D minor. The finished portion an Aeterna; Glory to God and His creation! There is so much of life to live! This, an understanding of the vastness and majesty of creation. This was a rendering of hope, and of possibility. Mozart's last insertion into the piece though was an incomplete Kyrie. An unfinished cry of "LORD! HAVE MERCY!" It is time taken away from where it is needed most. "I know."

"Mike, look also for a picture of her... It doesn't need to be recent."

The portraits of two women stand in our altar. Two of the five most influential women in my life have died. It pains me to add a third portrait. Mortality is the true test of Hope. Gabriel Marcel had said that to one who loves, the object of love, in their minds shall never die. It is not a matter of soul, or of memories, but rather a belief that as long as you, beloved, live; I hope so strongly to the point of belief that you and I will love eternally. Then of course the beloved dies. The hope of "though shall not die" dies with the beloved, but beyond that hope is the hope of moving forward; being more than I had been with beloved. "Sure, I'll take care of it."

Silence.

"Mike, are those fireworks?"

You have been a deep rooted part of me. Through me, they will know our story. You were beloved since the first day I had known you. I mourn your loss, but celebrate more your being. Be my flare in the night sky. Goodbye.

Person.

Christianity teaches understanding. Understanding of the situations and the culture that has led to the formation of a person. What may be considered a personal flaw may actually simply be the product of harsh social conditions an individual has had to deal with. In his case, I understand that he has taken more ridicule, more social beatings than you or any of us will ever survive. He is Christ, although in the guise of a broken man, and we continue to beat him ourselves. We cause him to sink lower. All I ask is for us to act as our beliefs dictate to us, or as humanism as a virtue, dictates to intellectual societies. He is Christ. Do not ridicule him. Understand him.

Splagchnizomai.

I have done him wrong in the past, and looking back how I wish I hadn't done what I had done, but now all I can do is hope, and maybe apologize someday.

Disheveled

She was sitting there serenely sipping from her 1 liter bottle of branded iced tea. It's weird she'd bring a liter to school, seeing as she's a petite little thing. Either she knows what she wants and she sticks to it, or she's rash and was gluttonous enough to buy a whole liter of a drink she was yearning for only in an intense moment. There's also the fact that by now, her drink was warm; incubated by the tropical sun. In any case, she seemed to enjoy her drink. The pursing of her lips to catch each poured drop of tea, and the slight smile after each swallow, its hard to say whether I'd rather keep her image immaculate as Chaucer's nun, or maybe in undress, pouring liquid on herself. No, definitely not in undress. She will be the mother of my children. She will be my broken Mary, and I will take her with all flaws attached. If only she knew. If only I was serious.

It is Me.

Beyond all things, it is heartbreak. It is pain. It is the devastation of humanity. It is me beyond sanity. It is me beyond who I want to be. It is my failure. It is me.

flowchart

The New Library Hall and Kinks about it.

First Pacific Hall of the Rizal Library at the Ateneo de Manila University

a. It's ironic that the supposed "hall" houses most of the library.�

b. It's annoying in some way that they named the building after First Pacific. Again. That makes the First Pacific Center for Biological Sciences, the First Pacific Lecture Hall, and the First Pacific Hall of the Rizal Library. I think we should start calling ourselves "The First Pacific run Jesuit Ateneo de Manila University" (images used copyright of the First Pacific Company Limited and the Ateneo de Manila University)

c. The place is supposedly energy efficient, with the structure itself built to minimize heat retention and maximize cooling, but there are�air conditioning�units 2.5 meters away from each other all around the perimeter of the circulation and computer areas.

d. It's funny that the open access computer laboratory is on the fourth floor, and the open reading area is on the fifth floor. They're basically saying, "hey computer geeks and netizens,�since only your hands and fingers get exercise, we've decided to give you a cardio workout�every time�you feel like using the open access lab. Same goes for you bookworms and sleepyheads. Since you get even less exercise than the computer geeks, you have to climb one more staircase!"�

e. The bathrooms are in the hallways now, so no more kinky time stories I hope.�

f. It's great that we have a new library though. That makes 2 library buildings aside from the collection within departments. I am, albeit it showing otherwise in this post, thankful to Mr. Pangilinan and First Pacific for investing in the Ateneo, and the trust of a solid, well rounded, liberal arts based Ateneo education. I am also thankful to Dr. David of the Library administration. She has undoubtedly improved to great ends (using merely small means) the library system. Multitudes of online journal sources added, a new library building, and vastly improved library facilities. Hats off madam. You are a miracle worker.

Rebuilding Me

Ketsana, that great bitch, destroyed the Michael Cabauatan Library main collection which is, sans the vanity title, basically 98% of the books which I owned that I gave a crap about. Everything from all my college text books to my philosophy-theology collection, the books of my favorite fiction authors (Kundera, Murakami, Kafka, Amis, and Gaiman) and my complete collection of the written works of David Sedaris. I am of course devastated. That is tens of thousands of pesos in bound investments down the drain. That is also most of who I am as a person. These books were what defined me. That's why they were in a separate shelf away from my other books. They in one way or another challenged my understanding of self and reality.�

Anyway, what's gone is gone. I can't look back at their contents to see if I've deviated from their ideals. The reference to who I am is officially gone. For the record, only Foucault and Plato were saved (the Fr. David SJ readings). The beautiful thing about life and humanity though, is that the definition still exists in me, and that I am an ever changing individual. I may not be able to go back to Marcel, Hobbes, Vatican II, or any of the other lost books to revisit their impact on my psyche, but I guess the best thing to do is move forward. I can either look for the lost books (again) which are hard to find in bookstores in my little slice of 3rd world metropolis, or I can rebuild by reading new books and see if they affect my self and my reality.�

So: step 1. I bought Jean-Paul Sartre's Being and Nothingness, and Cohen's Humanistic Psychology. That's one lost book and one new book. Let's see where I go from there...

Rebuilding Me

Ketsana, that great bitch, destroyed the Michael Cabauatan Library main collection which is, sans the vanity title, basically 98% of the books which I owned that I gave a crap about. Everything from all my college text books to my philosophy-theology collection, the books of my favorite fiction authors (Kundera, Murakami, Kafka, Amis, and Gaiman) and my complete collection of the written works of David Sedaris. I am of course devastated. That is tens of thousands of pesos in bound investments down the drain. That is also most of who I am as a person. These books were what defined me. That's why they were in a separate shelf away from my other books. They in one way or another challenged my understanding of self and reality.�

Anyway, what's gone is gone. I can't look back at their contents to see if I've deviated from their ideals. The reference to who I am is officially gone. For the record, only Foucault and Plato were saved (the Fr. David SJ readings). The beautiful thing about life and humanity though, is that the definition still exists in me, and that I am an ever changing individual. I may not be able to go back to Marcel, Hobbes, Vatican II, or any of the other lost books to revisit their impact on my psyche, but I guess the best thing to do is move forward. I can either look for the lost books (again) which are hard to find in bookstores in my little slice of 3rd world metropolis, or I can rebuild by reading new books and see if they affect my self and my reality.�

So: step 1. I bought Jean-Paul Sartre's Being and Nothingness, and Cohen's Humanistic Psychology. That's one lost book and one new book. Let's see where I go from there...

My Day and Humanism

I woke up unknowing of how extremely disappointing this day would be.�

My Th135 (Introduction to the New Testament) class was dissolved. There were theoretically enough of us in the class. It's just that someone decided by some arbitrary standard that there weren't enough people. Thus, I had to look for a new elective to cover the lost elective. After a long search that brought about minimal possibilities and a singular semi-convenient result, I ended up with FA172.2 which is Introduction to Illustration as a Visual Narrative. For the love of God, how lame is a drawing elective for a science major?�

The Philosophy department's secretary is a stoic seemingly uncaring person who seems an ironic icon set amidst the humanist background that is the Philosophy department. Let me stress that this whole mess was never in any way my fault, but the way people seemed to turn down my buffer requests and pleas to join the other section of the same dissolved class, which was unfortunately tagged for graduate students, seemed to indicate to me that they don't really give a damn whose fault anything is, or in my case, whose fault it wasn't. I'm guessing their premise is "life isn't fair." The problem is that in the Catholic university setting, simply saying that life isn't fair is as if acknowledging that justice is flawed, and its flaws are acceptable parts of lived experience. This quietism is precisely what is to be avoided any Catholic, let alone philosophical humanists. Ateneo is supposed to be a humanist school. The bricks of this wonderful facade unfortunately tell a different story.

Tuition Complaints LAST FREAKIN' SEM IN ATENEO

PATAASAN ULI NG TUITION!
last sem 75K
this sem... 78K. FTW!!!!!

I have 2 jesuits for profs again.... that makes 6 all in all. Oyeah.

Simulan Na

Noong siya'y umalis, 'di man lang ako makaimik. Inabot ko ang aking maleta at pinuno ng mga alaala at mga "kung sana." Naghanap ako ng taxi sa kalakasan ng ulan, naghahangad ng kalayaan mula sa nararamaman.

At parang pinagpalang panalangin, pinihit ag tingin at nagtagpuan ko'y ikaw.

Paano mo nalaman na kailangan ka ng puso ko? Paano mo natutunang ayusin ito? Ang iyong mga kamay, bahid ang lunas sa sakit ng sinomang baliw na kanyang mga panaginip ay nasawi sa wala. Ayusin mo ako.

Hini ko maintindihan ang nararamdaman ko, baka nga naman plano ito ng tadhana na magtagpo tayo, dahil biglang naglaho ang mga hinanakit ko sa bawat pagkakataong magkalapit tayo.

At parang pinagpalang panalangin, nakayanan mong ibayuhin ang lungkot na nasa akin.

Paano mo nalaman na kailangan ka ng puso ko? Paano mo natutunang ayusin ito? Ang iyong mga kamay, bahid ang lunas sa sakit ng sinomang baliw na kanyang mga panaginip ay nasawi sa wala. Ayusin mo ako.

Titigil din ang ulan, at malilimot ko din ang kahapon, dahil ito na ang kinabukasan ko.

Paano mo nalaman na kailangan ka ng puso ko? Paano mo natutunang ayusin ito? Ang iyong mga kamay, bahid ang lunas sa sakit ng sinomang baliw na kanyang mga panaginip ay nasawi sa wala. Ayusin mo ako.

Ika'y Bubuohin

Sa paghihirap na sa wala ang hantungan
Sa nakukuhang kagustuhan pero wala ang kailangan
Sa pagod na hindi maitulog
Sa pagkahulog na walang hanggan

Ang mga luhang dupadaplos sa iyong mukha
Sa kawalan ng hindi na man maibabalik
Sa pagmamahal na walang kapalit
Ano pa nga ba ang mas masakit?

Ang liwanag ang siyang magdadala sa'yo sa aking piling
At ika'y pilit na bubuhayin
At sa aking makakaya, ika'y bubuohin.

Sa kataasan man o sa lubugan
Sa pagiirog na di mapakawalan
Sa kawalan ay walang matututunan
Matutunan ang sariling halaga

Ang liwanag ang siyang magdadala sa'yo sa aking piling
At ika'y pilit na bubuhayin
At sa aking makakaya, ika'y bubuohin.

Ang mga luhang dupadaplos sa iyong mukha
Sa kawalan ng hindi na man maibabalik
Ang mga luhang dupadaplos sa iyong mukha
At ako nama'y...

Ang mga luhang dupadaplos sa iyong mukha
Pangakong matututo sa mga kamalian ko
Ang mga luhang dupadaplos sa iyong mukha
At ako nama'y...

Ang liwanag ang siyang magdadala sa'yo sa aking piling
At ika'y pilit na bubuhayin
At sa aking makakaya, ika'y bubuohin.

Atenean pride post 2009 and the THES QS 2009

and the THES-QS is out again...
234. Ateneo de Manila University
262. University of the Philippines
401-500: La Salle
501-600: UST


SUBJECT AREA RANKINGS


Arts and Humanities:

88. Ateneo
93. UP

Life Sciences & Biomedicine

171. UP
186. Ateneo


Natural Sciences

114. Ateneo
176. UP

Social Sciences

123. UP
138. Ateneo
292. La Salle

Engineering & IT

243. Ateneo
281. UP

Yearbook Write-Up: Mic Needs Writers

I've decided that my yearbook write-up would be written by other people.

I ask YOU, dear invited friend to write your thoughts on me.

Make the text short and sweet, but of course, keep it relevant. Don't just write singular cliche words like "nice" and "chubby." Write a clear precise paragraph that you think best describes me, with an underlying theme of who I am and who I can become.

I need your writeups in a week's time (deadline July 22) so that I can take in the most significant bits and forward it to a 3rd party editor, again one of you dear invited friends, so they can write a succint paragraph in 20 lines, font size 10, within 2 inch borders on all sides.

I will then make the final edit.

Please make time to fullfill my little request :)

Books.

I've finished ALL of Sedaris' books... :'( What's a fan of sabaw comedic autobiographical essays to do?

Well... there's always that growing stack of books in my room...

I could finish the Diary of Sister Maria Foustina Kowalska...
Start reading my OWN copies of Nolan's 2 books...
Reread Vatican 2 (yeah right...)
Start on Immortality by MIlan Kundera...
Finish Fr. Bu's Hypnotherapy book...
Cracks in the Parchment Curtain maybe...
Start on Dance, Dance, Dance...
Murakami is another author whose books I've almost all completely read...
Buy and read that book by Ken Wilbur that I've been eyeing...
Read my Th151 readings (haha maybe later...)
AbPsych...
Organic Chem. Yeah, DEFINITELY Organic Chem...

I had my Fully Booked member card renewed!!!! 10% discounts are fun, but I was given a 20% discount coupon as well... Which book to use it on... hahaha ciao tutti arivadecci che bediamo domani.

Alternative Preferences

I payed a visit to PEx today... Then I saw this curious little forum called "Alternative Preferences." WTF is "Alternative Preferences?" It seems it's the new PC (note to idiotas: Politically Correct not Personal Computer) term for gay. Is homosexuality the only "alternative" preference? Well, I guess if I were a zoophile, I could post there too... hahaha I'll try that... I'll post a thread called, "What's the hottest animal you've ever f*****?" Let's see what happens... mwahaha!!! Or maybe a thread called, "hottest corpse you've ever kissed?"

Why Did You Leave Me Hoping

And now I'm left trying to understand it
The faults you find hidden inside of me
I hope you understand that you're the only one
I care for, hopelessly

It's fresh to mind, the promise that you made me
Promises that you would never leave
And at your parting you simply left my heart exposed
waiting on you, endlessly

Chorus:

Never to heal from the pain you gave me the day
that you left though you promised you won't go away
Weren't you the one who made up your mind, to decide
to be the first to avoid me?
Why did you say you would never leave me?

In my head your voice, it haunts my memory
I feel it in my skin, a silent breeze
as if you're always there always around me
watching silently

*Repeat Chorus

Never to heal from the pain you gave me the day
that you left though you promised you won't go away
Weren't you the one who made up your mind, to decide
to be the first to avoid me?
Why did you say you would never leave me?
Why did you say you would never leave me?

Schedule and Tuition Complaints 1st Sem 2009-2010

Time	M	T	W	H	F
1000
1030	Ch25-B	Th151-I	Ch25-B	Th151-I	Ch25-B
1100	C205	Bel310	C205	Bel310	C205
1130	Ph103-Z		Ph103-Z		Ph103-Z
1200	Bel208	Psy112-C	Bel208	Psy112-C	Bel208
1230		PsyLab	Ch26-B	PsyLab
1300			C209
1330		Psy113-B		Psy113-B
1400		CTC118		CTC118
1430
1500		Ps14-B		Ps14-B
1530		F304		F304
1600
1630
1700
1730
1800

The Sesquicentennial Year.

150 years of the Ateneo.

First Semester: 22 units.

75 thousand pesos.

WTF!?!?!?!?!

Ordinaire Deux

Prequel: http://mikecab.multiply.com/journal/item/355/Ordinaire

Then in your tiredness, fallen, you drifted to sleep.

In gentle breaths, it was as if your advocacies and hypocricies were non existent. I watched as light gave way to dusk and the night, and stars shone upon the sullied walls, the empty streets we used to haunt. With every breath, vapor seen on cold nights, and the rise and fall of your chest, the sweat drying, slick oil that shines in faded starlight. Your hand beneath your head, and another on your stomach's arch. Fingers, stained in spray color, and the scent of paint and perspiration wafting through the air. In that moment, beyond your words and our hopeful wishes, beyond our ironies and faults, was the silence I dared to break.

I know I've said not much, but know that now, as I speak, I know precisely what to say.

You. You are my frustration. This. This is my sublimation. I loved you, whoever you were, and whoever you would turn out to be. I loved you beyond the words, the art, and the anarchy.

summer assesment