April 6, 2008. It’s another beautiful Sunday. I went to the Antipolo Cathedral again for Sunday Mass. I also went to look for the lay minister who was in my winning Palm Sunday photo entry to give him a copy of the photo.

Brother Gene is an amiable guy. He smiles easily and to say that he is accommodating is an understatement. The elderly gentleman is pleasantly warm like morning sunshine. Too bad–no camera equals no souvenir photo. I would have loved capturing his happy face underneath the ever-present sombrero. I handed him a copy of the photo. He said in jest that I won the contest because he had his back turned when I took the picture. He seemed extremely happy as he brought out a pen, asking me to write down full details including my contact number. He wanted to show the photo to Monsy (Monsignor Gabriel Reyes). I thanked him, but before I left, I asked if he would still be around the vicinity in 5 to 10 minutes’ time. “Yes,” he said.

I went back to the photo developer across the church plaza to pick up the rest of the photos–my own copy of the winning entry and a copy of another photo which I opted not to use as contest entry. I thought the photo looked quite nice, and a nice man like Brother Gene might appreciate another nice Palm Sunday photo. I went back to the church’s office, brought the photo out of its envelope and handed it to Brother Gene. I told him that it was the photo that I personally liked, but I didn’t use it as a contest piece. “Lupa,” he said.

Puzzled, I asked what he meant. He said as he pointed to the upper midportion of the photo, “Eto o, may salitang LUPA sa larawan na ito (See here–there’s the word LUPA on this photo”. I stared at the photo for a few seconds. Indeed, the tips of the palm fronds on motion blur seemed to have formed the letters L-U-P-A. Lupa is the Filipino (Tagalog) word for earth or soil.

Brother Gene further explained the significance of the word LUPA in my photo. Lupa symbolizes dust. He said, “Dust we are, and to dust we shall return”.

He added, “Sa susunod na Ash Wednesday, magiging abo ang mga palaspas na ito. Ito ang mensahe ng salitang ‘lupa’. (Come Ash Wednesday, these palm fronds shall turn to dust. That is the significance of the word Lupa”. On Ash Wednesday which is the first day of the Lenten Season, dried palm fronds from the previous year’s Palm Sunday are burned to produce ashes to be used to mark crosses on the Catholic believers’ foreheads, symbolizing repentance before God.

Brother Gene thought that this photo would have made a good contest entry, too, because of the message contained therein.

It is truly amazing how God sends us messages even through simple photos. This is one photo that I definitely will remember for a very long time. I feel blest many times over to have captured this photo and the message it contained. I feel the love of God.

Related Blogs:
http://angelsgarden.wordpress.com/2008/03/16/clicking-on-palm-sunday/
http://angelsgarden.wordpress.com/2008/03/31/photo-contest-won-by-the-grace-of-god/

On March 16, Easter Sunday, I went on a solo photoshoot at the Antipolo Cathedral. I wrote in my Easter Sunday photoblog, “This is my first set of photos for the year 2008. Finally! The very first “click” coming from my Nikon in three months is pure, unadulterated bliss! The fact that I found time on Palm Sunday, no less, to bring my camera out for some action is truly a blessing. I can feel that this marks the beginning of better things to come as I continue on my photo journey. “

Well, I was right!

I posted some of my photos in my Flickr. Shortly thereafter, I received an invitation to post two of my shots in the photo pool of Semana Santa Filipinas (SSF), which I did. The following day, I received an email from a group administrator inviting me to join the SSF Klik and Kuaresma contest. There were several categories, and there was one specifically for Palm Sunday. Voting lasted for three days, and today the results were posted–my entry won the Best Palm Sunday Category!

This is the winning photo:

It was a closely fought contest. In fact, someone already commented that another entry was leading as of last night. I was therefore totally surprised that I my photo came out the winner.

Initially, I thought of using this photo:
but I changed my mind. I wonder if the outcome would have been the same had I used this second photo instead.

The Prizes:

1. Actually, I joined the contest because the coffee table books were hard to resist. The winner gets to choose either a copy of The Art of the Cross published by the Ayala Museum or Simbahan authored by Regalado Trota Jose. I picked “Simbahan: Church Art in Colonnial Philippines 1565-1898″.

2. Am supposed to receive a much-coveted ribbon from one of the group administrators–or at least I think he is an administrator. I failed to ask if this is a real ribbon or a virtual one with all those HTML codes.

3. Am qualified for the Grand Prix and I have a chance to win One Year Flickr Pro account.

Well, I don’t expect to win the Grand Prix anymore. Semana Santa Filipinas is a group that caters to Philippine Ecclesiastical Arts and Traditions with main focus on Semana Santa (the Lenten Season). A good number of members have religious images that one normally sees during a saint’s feast day or Lenten procession. I have observed that much weight is given to photos of Catholic religious icons. I expect the photo showing imagen with correct iconography according to Catholic tradition to come out as a winner. Believe me, the images I saw in the other categories are beautiful! At any rate, I am ecstatic to have made it this far.

I am humbled by this experience. I truly believe that divine intervention made me win. I feel that there now is a greater purpose to my photography. It’s more than just a hobby to kill time, more than just capturing cute images and doing trick shots. I trust that this photo journey of mine will continue to be guided by the Creator of this universe. Where it may lead me, i do not know. I only hope that I can get internet access wherever that may be, to document the whole trip for the love of Multiply (and WordPress, of course).

To God be the Glory!!!
Related Blog:
http://angelsgarden.wordpress.com/2008/03/16/clicking-on-palm-sunday/

By the way, SSF’s photo pool and discussions may be viewed by members only. I can say that I have learned many things about Catholic traditions as practiced here in the Philippines. SSF’s sister group, Santos: Images of Faith or SIF is equally interesting. Should you wish to join these groups, please click the icons below.

March 16, 2008. Antipolo, Province of Rizal, Philippines. –
The photographs shown here are from my first set of photos for the year 2008. Finally! The very first “click” coming from my Nikon in three months is pure, unadulterated bliss!

The fact that I found time on Palm Sunday, no less, to bring my camera out for some action is truly a blessing. I can feel that this marks the beginning of better things to come as I continue on my photo journey.

There are actually three churches that are closer to home, but since it is Palm Sunday, I wanted to spend the mornng at the Antipolo Cathedral (The Shrine of Our Lady of Peace and Good Voyage). The cathedral feels like home to me, and I call it my personal storm shelter. This is the first place that I would run to in times of crisis, and also when I am exceptionally happy and thankful for anything good that comes my way.

This morning, the cathedral took on a festive mood as vendors filled the sidewalks with palms of all sorts, mostly woven into fancy shapes. The business of making and selling woven palm fronds is an annual family affair for most of the vendors that I spoke to. Said Jay, an FX (public transport) dispatcher, “Wala naman akong duty ngayon kaya tinulungan ko na rin si misis sa pagbebenta ng palaspas.” (I am off duty anyway, so I am helping my wife sell these palms). The kids did their share, too. The young ones made surprisingly good hawkers and ambulant vendors.

The cathedral was filled to the rafters. Those who could not get inside found shelter under the shades of the trees at the plaza. As for me, I was oblivious to the heat. After hearing Mass, I walked around with my camera, hoping to capture all the sights and colors that would mark this as Palaspas, Antipolo style. I saw the usual Sunday bikers. There were the vendors that will hound you no end unless they’re camera shy and get shooed away at the sight of lenses. Oh, and there was Sarge Sagat, my fave policeman. A pleasant surprise running into him today, woven palm in hand, making his way to the elevated platform where elders blessed the palms with holy water.

My Nikon caught a drop of holy water, so I guess you could say that I have a blessed camera.

My Photo Journey began on May 29, 2007.

Sharing the images that I captured from May to December 2007.

Cheers!
The Shutterblogger

I was bitten by the shutterbug five moons ago.

I procured a DSLR camera and started clicking away like there is no tomorrow. I’m not a particularly skilled photographer, but I can claim to be very resourceful and passionate when it comes to my photographic works.

My baby is a Nikon D40X, probably the best camera one can get at its price. It is nbt top of the line, but it most certainly is a workhorse. Nothing beats Nikon and Nikkor when it comes to quality images. Tack sharp!

My Nikon D40X comes with an 18-55 mm kit lens. It’s a fine lens for starters. However, I have found that the more I fall into photography’s clutches, the more I feel the limitations of a kit lens. Somehow, the range at a lot of times seem not far enough, or the F-stop does not go low enough, or similar issues. Nonetheless, I should not be complaining as I have yet to explore the camera kit’s full potential. Getting the whole range of lenses that I want seem as impractical as asking a toddler to walk steadily in her Mom’s high-heeled shoes.

So, there…I hope that after a few more months, I will have a few shots that I can (dare to) post proudly on my site.

It has been a while since I posted anything here. The first reason (alibi?) was that I was bitten by the photography bug and i was preoccupied with taking snapshots/photos of ANYTHING. I actually created a separate Multiply site for it, http://shutterblog.multiply.com/.

A second, more important reason was that I suddenly found myself in the midst of funeral preparations for a dear neighbor who died of a massive heart attack at the age of 52. His widow had no one else to turn to at the onset, and I had to be there for her as a friend of the family. They have a four-year-old son. I thought that my involvement would end after the funeral arrangements, but then I found myself getting involved anew in sorting out all those paperworks that come after the interment services. Thankfully, we are almost done with that.

I have come to realize that in the Philippines, the cost of dying far outweighs the cost of living. Funeral arrangements can cost an arm and a leg if one wishes to have a decent send off. For my friend, his final transport fare to the next life was at around P170,000 (about US$3,700)–that is about twice the annual income of the minimum wage earner. Her widow was taken aback by the costs, but what to do? Everything was at AT-NEED price, and one only has seven days max to put everything together. And it was just a simple send-off. Nothing fancy. As I was quite visible around the neighborhood as the one in charge of the funeral arrangement, someone jokingly said that henceforth I will be known as Sally, the funeral coordinator. Geez! Can’t I just be a wedding coordinator instead? The assignment was NOT fun at all. However, I must admit that I learned much from it.

There really is much wisdom in preparing for one’s grand exit from this earth. Morbid as it may seem, I have been looking into proposals for memorial and interment plans. Hey, I’m not that young anymore. I think that it is the most practical thing to do these days. I do not wish to burden my children (spoiled as they are by their titos and titas) with all those funeral thingies when my time comes. After all that, perhaps I can brush off all those thoughts of departing this earth and enjoy the rest of my life while I can still breathe. )

I hate going to the doctors. They seldom bring me good news because I am not the type who sees a doctor for regular checkups. Therefore, a doctor visit for me often indicates that something must be wrong with me already.

Four plus months after the onset of my shoulder trouble, I finally dragged myself to see an ortho doctor and actually returned for a follow-up visit a week later for my shoulder pain (main complaint in my previous blog entry). I came close to boxing the good doctor for doing some really painful tests for my rotator cuff. Now I know that these are called supraspinatus test, Neer’s test, and drop arm test among others. Actually going through those tests gave more meaning to those medical terms that I have been hearing in the doctors’ dictations.

My second visit was more unpleasant than the first one. I was on an NSAID pill and an antiinflammatory cream for a week and the meds have barely kicked in. On my return visit, I was referred by Dr. #1 to Dr. #2 who did the same set of tests all over again. Dang! He fell a few seconds short of my kick response. I thought that the worst was over, but then I found myself dazedly saying “Yes” to physical therapy referral on the same day. It didn’t sound bad, really–ultrasound, electrical stimulation, hot packs and then some exercises. Boy, was I wrong!

I tolerated ultrasound, the TENS unit, and the hot pack quite well. And then the manipulation and the forced exercises happened. I was forced to move my arm in all directions, just 10 counts each. But it was like a trip to hell! I never thought that 10 counts of raising the arm overhead could make me want to scream, scratch and kick the hapless PT who was assigned to me. The bad news is that I also have to do those exercises at home. Of course, I can’t scream at, scratch and kick myself, so I just gritted my teeth and carried on with the home program. No pain, no gain. The thought of possibly needing steroid injections straight into the tendons or shoulder surgery this early is enough to send me into a compliant mode.

Thus far, I have survived session 1 of PT and two days of home program. I am supposed to have at about 6-8 sessions of PT and then further PT programs depending on my progress. I am not too happy, but I guess I don’t have much choice.

Wish me luck!

Is this the end of my medical transcription career?

About four months ago, I started having minor problems with my shoulder. BenGay has been my best friend, or in its absence, the is Omega Pain Killer to fall back on. I smell of mentholated cream almost 24/7. A good thing I do not go out much. I would surely get strange looks from passersby with my strange scent. If there is any consolation, all that menthol seemed to have cleared my sinuses a bit.

The past few weeks, I feel that my shoulder problem has worsened. If have developed almost all the signs and symptoms of a rotator cuff tear.

On the brighter side, I can still say, “Hallelujah! I am still so blessed. It’s the left shoulder and not the right!” Yes, I am right handed like most people I know.

Best of all, my camera is light enough to hold with one hand. I can always use a tripod. Ha!

My life’s like that..always a roller-coaster ride. There always are a lot of things for me to be thankful for, and there are also seemingly endless hurdles that I need to clear. Either way, there always is a bit of excitement and/or drama. Sometimes I just sit back and observe the goings on in my life with much amusement.

If my sister finds out about this, she will again blame it on my being a menopausal baby, assembled with leftover genetic material upon conception. I will again have to retort that genetic perfection takes time. God allows parents to make several prototypes before producing the final perfect baby.

Oh well…just join me in this roller-coaster ride. I am trying to muster enough courage to visit an orthopedic surgeon.

Over a year ago, one of my neighbors kicked a small pot of tangled succulent out of her garden. “Would you like to have this?”

The pot of plant was a mess. Some of the succulent’s tips were chewed off by her puppy, and it looked fit enough to be discarded. The pot was not even a pot but an old corroded can that used to contain powdered milk.

My neighbor thought she had bought a lemon. She was promised beautiful white flowers, but after many, many months, she only ended up with a mess of a plant, hence the eviction.

Reluctantly, I took the plant it. It looked like it would be an eyesore to my already ill-maintained front yard. However, since it was a living thing, I felt obligated to adopt it somehow. After repotting the sorry-looking thing, I offered it shelter at the far end of the backyard where the malabar spinach (alugbati) grew.

Starting the month of April, I observed that it had a few large buds about 3 to 4 inches long that never seemed to reach full bloom. They would seem ready to bloom one day only to be wilted by the following morning. I decided to watch and wait.

The evening after my photo session with my friend Che at the American War Memorial, I went home dog-tired. I had already forgotten about the succulent. The only reason I went to the backyard was because I had to let the dogs out for some exercise as they had been cooped up all day. To my astonishment, I saw something distinctly white coming out of the shadows. It was a flower that was about the size of my palm. The sight of it was like no other, and it gave me the needed adrenaline rush to run inside, grab my cam and shoot away in the dark. Thank goodness the built-in flash did an adequate job.

No complaints at the moment. In fact, I am thrilled that the messy-looking succulent decided to show me its flowers. Now I feel guilty about placing it at the most ignored portion of the backyard.

I was told that this plant is called the Queen of the Night. The name sure fits the flower as it blooms only at night and dies with the sunrise. A life so short and beautiful, this awe-inspiring flower. It reminded me of the fable about the ugly duckling that turned into a beautiful swan. I am thankful that I survived in my yard somehow. I was again reminded not to just a book by its cover, or in this case a plant by its general appearance.

Exactly how many pair of Chucks does a young man need in his lifetime?

My son, JC, is your average normal teenager–full of dreams but usually care-free, wanting to save some money for a lot of his “needs” and yet longs for the things that most mothers (and other elders) consider as “wants.” He is always full of good intentions, believe me. Despite his list of his wants and needs, he is quite a practical young man.

For his birthday tomorrow, I was thinking of giving him a gift of my choice, but then I thought that he just might prefer to pick out something on his own. And I was right. I gave him a figure that I am prepared to spend as his birthday gift. I was a bit surprised though when he announced that he “needs” another pair of Chuck Taylor. Another pair of Chucks? When we went shopping a few months back, he bought two pairs of Chucks. He didn’t want the standard ones. He wants all of his Chucks to look a bit different from the normal ones. Oh well, I shouldn’t complain too much. Chucks don’t cost as much as the Nikes and the Adidases on the shelves.

JC is the kind of shopper that I am not. I am the type who targets specific items on the shelf/rack, makes a beeline to the counter to pay for the merchandise, and then heads for home. Not so with JC. We had to comb SM Department store, The Block, and several other sporting good stores in the mall before finding his perfect pair of chucks at one of those nice shoe boutiques. The pair of Chucks he picked is a killer in terms of eyelet count and shoelace length. It requires two pairs of laces, one white and one red. The red one is about three yards long–maybe more! It took two salesclerks more than 15 minutes to figure out how to lace up the Chucks. The funny thing is that on our way home, JC withstood several minutes of motion sickness to unlace the shoes and create his own lace-up design. Boys…*sigh*. I can never understand them.

JC did pick up something else before we headed home–a couple of tee-shirts and a pair of pants. At least it wasn’t 100% Chuck shopping this time around.

I have always loved observing animal behavior, particularly those exhibited by the four dogs and three cats that I live with.

Teriyaki, my 1.5-year-old Beagle/Labrador mix, is blessed with the happy, even temperament of both breeds. She is subservient to the caprices of the three cats that she grew up with. I guess this is her way of acknowledging the fact that the felines arrived in my house before the canines did. Despite her relatively big size, she meekly walks away with tail tucked between her hind legs everytime a feline housemate hisses at her for going too near the cats’ territory.

On the other hand, she hates all other cats without exception. She had chased away every single stray feline that tried to enter our gate. Every successful flush-out was accompanied by a triumphant houndish howl. My guess is that Teriyaki was trying to say, “Three cats are enough trouble here!”

But something strange happened to Teriyaki this weekend. A few-week-old calico kitten spotted Teriyaki behind the gate and proceeded to inspect the canine that was making strange growling noises. The kitten must have been really brave or really dense. She tried to scale the gate’s chicken wire screen, but her efforts were in vain as her legs were still not strong enough to hoist her body up a few squares. So, she content herself with inspecting the dog behind wires. A more persistent little kitten, I have never seen. Teriyaki must have been taken aback by the kitten’s brave gesture. She dropped her top dog airs and sat by the gate for a good fifteen minutes, patiently accommodating the kitten’s challenge to play “tap my paws,” separated only by chicken wire and some skinny bars. Teriyaki would occasionally grunt in exasperation, rolling over on her back but still keeping the game much to the kitten’s delight.

I watched with amusement, wondering if Teriyaki would allow this little kitty permanently into her life. This is not Teriyaki’s first encounter with a small kitten, but this is definitely the one “stranger” kitten that Teriyaki tolerated in close range. Perhaps it is because they share the same tri-colored coat. Perhaps it is the kitten’s confidence (or ignorance) that made her earn Teriyaki’s respect in a way–enough for the proud canine to show uncanny tolerance for this tiny kitty.

In the animal world as it is in the human world, size does not always matter. It is a matter of showing one’s true worth, whether it be a certain attitude, talent or capability. It is a matter of perspective. The giant may say, “There’s no midget that I can’t drive away.” The midget may say, “I can win this giant’s heart.” Guess who came out the winner?

Who doesn’t want to have a doctor in the family? Here in the Philippines where we put much premium on academic degrees, it is something that brings great pride to the family. To have a family member establish a successful medical practice in the US is a great honor indeed. It also promises better opportunities and (hopefully) a brighter future for the next generation.

But things like these don’t come easy. From what I gathered, one really needs to invest a lot of time, effort, and finances to reach this goal. It started with an almost silly and vague question from me. But my online buddy, Dr. Joel de Guzman (rehabdoc), generously shared his experience about what steps to take to make it as a US-based doctor. The discussion happened at my second Multiply site, but I was granted permission to repost it here. I feel it is an interesting and informative topic.

Read on. I hope this repost will serve as a challenge to those who dare to dream.

mtsally said
“Boring? Gosh, I don’t think one can get bored with so many things to do before one can practice as MS in the States. Assuming that everything goes as scheduled and without delay, how much time does this whole process take before an MD can set up a private practice there?”

rehabdoc said:

5. If you get to work in a university hospital, it is a big help to know somebody who could get you at least an interview.

“There’s a time to read… if we just decide we want to do it.”
– Dave Llorito, my online buddy.

Words of wisdom, these are.

Until Ash Wednesday, I had not held a book in my hands for years. I really have to thank my good friend Nel Pascual — he gave me an “assignment” which was to read one chapter of Rick Warren’s The Purpose-Driven Life each day for the next forty days. And what an astoundingly life-changing book it was! I will not make a summary of that book here. You really must get your copy (our Multiply friend Bugsey has an e-book, even!) and read through it to appreciate the wisdom and the inspiration contained therein.

So here again, my blog topic. I was “bookless” for a good four years. Unless I can count the three-inch-thick Stedman’s Medical Dictionary, the PDR, and Principles of Surgery as the best nonfiction materials ever, I do not recall having read anything that normal people call BOOKS in the recent past. Blame it on medical transcription school. Blame it on Dogster, Multiply, and WordPress that came to my life after medical transcription school. Blame it on my own laziness. Staying online most of the time each day, I almost forgot about the charming, “old world” feel of paper on my hands. That was fine with me until I started blogging a bit more seriously. English is a second (maybe even a third) language for me, and I noted much to my consternation that I have been having difficulty expressing my thoughts in writing. I suddenly remember that I have not reading as much as I used to. I am no longer as comfortable with the English language as I used to be. My written communication skill has diminished in direct proportion to my reading.

I MUST start reading, I thought. In a fit of frenzy, I dug through stacks of books I have at home. I have forgotten about these as the bookshelf has already been dominated by medical dictionaries and references. There were management books aplenty. I set aside the heavy hardbounds and rested my hands on a small black book and smiled with much pride at having found a buried treasure…Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. This book was my favorite companion years ago as I served time in the human resource department of the Manila Standard. I dug some more and came across a few cookbooks and laughed. I don’t cook. I can’t cook! Funny I even bothered to buy those recipe books. Perhaps it was because the photos looked nice and good enough to eat. A few more minutes, and I was leafing through the pages of books discussing philosophy, religions and beliefs. There were a few classics too, including my favorite Greek and Roman mythology books. Gee, I thought, I did read all sorts of stuff.

It did not take long for me to find unread books stored in the covered bottom shelves. Even though I have stopped reading for quite some time, I still find myself visiting my favorite book store and buying a few books that I hope/wish/promise myself to read. I had kept all of these in their original book store plastic bags, and I already have quite a few. That’s quite embarrassing, really. I’m such a hoarder. I MUST start reading, I told myself again. That was a week ago. It was like learning to read all over again. Reading from a book somehow feels different from reading an article online. But I discovered that I still love the charming, nostalgic feel of a warm book on my lap. I still enjoy the feel of paper, the textured and the smooth, on my fingertips.

I have finished reading “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho. I am halfway through “Warrior of the Light” also by Coelho. I still have the 25th anniversary edition of M. Scott Peck’s “The Road Less Traveled” to go through. Next in line would be “Maybe LIfe’s Just Not That Into You” by Martha Bolton and Brad Dickson, “Cat & Dog Theology” by Bob Sjogren and George Robison, and a not-too-big coffee table book, “Best Regards–A Treasury of the World’s Great Spiritual Letters.” And that is just scratching the surface.

Wish me luck. I intend to make the most out of this reading frenzy that I am in. I only hope that time will be be my friend.

STATUS POST VIRGINIA TECH: THE GRASS IS NOT ALWAYS GREENER
by Sally Lo

Days have passed since the bloody massacre at Virginia Tech. Much has been written about the senseless death of 32 victims in the hands of lone gunman, Seung-hui Cho. Many miles away here in the Philippines, I watch the news daily hoping to catch every bit of update about the VT killings.

I could have been numbed by the repetitive sight of bloodied bodies and the pure, unadulterated evil gleaming in Cho’s eyes as he brandished the handguns. But no matter how many times the scenes are shown, I couldn’t help but feel the pain and anguish of the hapless victim’s families. I cannot begin to imagine the agony that the survivors and the bereaved families are going through at the moment. It could be that those killed were mostly about the same age as my own children. Who can bear the thought of losing a child? The thought of such loss is so overpowering that I find myself having to switch channels lest I suffocate from the deep sense of grief that grips my entire being.

My thought goes to the Cho family too. “He has made the world weep. We are living a nightmare,” said Sun-Kyung Cho in their family statement on the massacre at VT. Seung-hui’s sister and parents will have to live in the nightmare for the rest of their lives. In all honesty, I do feel sorry for them. They are left to face the anger and outrage of VT families and the world over senseless killings.

Seung-hui Cho was portrayed as a crazed, misdirected mass murderer whose ferocity was fueled by deeply-rooted anger. He was angry at the rich and the privileged, and probably at being picked on for being different. He was angry at everything imaginable and this anger sent him on a shooting rampage. He was, as I see it, also a victim. He was the victim of his past; his own unhappiness and discontentment gnawed at his very soul until he was reduced to his seething, irrational, murderous state.

I wonder if things would have been different for Seung-hui had he and his family not left South Korea. Would he be spared from thoughts of persecution that eventually ravaged his mind and spirit? Would he have grown into a happy, well-adjusted young man? Would Virginia Tech be spared of the tragedy had he and his family not moved to the USA?

I am very certain that his parents have all good intentions for moving to America. To many Asians, America is the Land of Promise. Like all well meaning parents, Seung-hui’s probably wanted to prepare a better future for their children. The kids would get better education and will have better opportunities. Such benefits would be passed on to the grandchildren. The future is in America. Sadly though for Seung-hui and his parents, that future was brought to naught.

Like many Asians, I too once fancied moving to America or Australia — anywhere but here. Somehow when that opportunity presented itself many years ago, I chose to decline it. For the next few years, I was left wondering whether or not I made the right decision. You see, I was afraid of change. I was afraid of moving out of the comfort zone called home, which to me was and will always be the Philippines. It’s bad enough that I had to restart my life at one point from square one (but that’s another story). To have to restart my life outside of my comfort zone would be Mission: Impossible.

Now after Virginia Tech, I have come to a personal conclusion that life is happier in my comfort zone. Sure, there may be lesser opportunities, but I can use whatever opportunities I have to create my own prosperity. How much prosperity do I need? Not much–just enough to live comfortably until I grow old. After all, prosperity is a state of mind. I’d rather be happy than mentally tortured. I’d rather be happy earning enough for my own sustenance than be rich but miserably far from home. The grass is not always greener on the other side. After Virginia Tech, I am quite thankful for the green grass that I still see in my own pasture.

It’s no big secret that blogging is something very new to me. Up to this day, I still do not quite understand the meanings of link back, blog stats, and “You’re tagged” among other complicated terminologies. I can’t even figure out how to put that Technorati and MyBlogLog icons/thingies on my WordPress blog (Rescue me, Bugsey and Skopun!).

When I started blogging, I only have one mindset — to keep my blogs inspirational and positive. That was how I started out on my Multiply. That mindset also carried me through to the creation of The Angel’s Garden. Therefore, it came as a very pleasant surprise that Christy Zutautas decided to talk about me in one of her blogs, Christy’s Coffee Break. I felt greatly honored to be called an uplifting blogger. If there is something that I really want to get out of blogging, it is to be a positive influence and, hopefully, an inspiration to others. No monetary gains as I am such a financial dummy, but being a positive, uplifting blogger makes me feel like a spiritual millionaire.

Christy Z’s profile tells us that she is an Ontario-based freelance writer, poet, and blogger. Her sites are wonderfully positive. There are even the occasional funny videos on Christy’s Coffee Break — I love the Worst American Idol videos she posted. ) Her poetry blog, A Hint of Poetry, also has great contents and she accepts contributions there. Her Writer’s Reviews is where you can have your very own blog or website, well, reviewed.

Check her out!

I do not know which is more difficult — expressing emotions through the written word or expressing emotions through light and color.

I have just very recently taken to writing my thoughts on paper and online and am still trying to grasp that string of words that best reflect my present state of mind and heart.

Painting and drawing–something I have not done in ages. It was just a hobby, really. I do not even consider myself an artist. Nevertheless, I seem to have the urge the past few days to pick up the paintbrushes and pencils that have been resting in storage for quite sometime now. Oh, wish me luck on this one. The spirit is willing, but the flesh runs out of time. Or maybe I need to find inspiration.

Inspiration is something that I rediscovered a few days ago through the lenses of two very gifted photographers whose photo blogs I chanced upon. While these are not paintings, their works are veritable art collections. Now I do not quite understand those people who think photography and digital art are not ART. I wish I know more of those technical terms to appropriately describe the awe-inspiring works of these two photographers. For now, I will dwell on the impressions created upon me by the works of these two gifted men.

Claudio Lunardelli
Claudio’s work speaks of much experience with the camera and with manipulating light and color. His images are always powerful, always brimming with passion. I do not see a single image in his collection that did not stir my emotions.
He also has some of the most amazing black-and-white photos that I have ever seen. In my mind, anyone who can do black-and-whites as well as he does colors has mastered light. Claudio Lunardelli is one such person.

Reggie Santos
His welcome message states that he has been into photography for two years. Viewing his gallery, I seriously wonder if the “two” is a typographical error. To say he takes pictures well is an understatement. He seems to find something interesting to shoot everywhere he goes. He obviously loves colors, but not the excessively loud and annoying combinations that you see in art wannabes. He experiments much with colors, textures, patterns and saturations. Yet his photos to me have a calming and, yes, an inspirational effect. Almost Zen-like, mostly. Two years? With a prestigious photo contest second-place win under his belt, I surely look forward to more and more years of his photography.

Please do take time to visit their sites. It is a visual experience that is not to be missed.

P.S. I hope I can paint and draw again after this.

I am fascinated by photography. It’s something that I really would love to learn if I have the time in the world.

One strange fact: My late father was in the photography business. No, he was not a professional photographer–just a not-too-serious hobbyist at most. He used to run a photo supplies and equipment business. There always were areas in the places where we lived in that were converted into darkrooms. Oh yes, those were the good old days of SLRs (yeah, without the D), endless strips of films, and smelly photo-developing chemicals. The developers of Photoshop must have been toddlers, or maybe they weren’t even born yet. I guess seeing photo supplies and equipment everywhere made me take the camera for granted. That was just too bad.

Now late in age, I began to take notice of freeze-framed art. I have viewed dozens of photo blogs. All are nice. Many are interesting. But there are two photographers whose works captured my attention and imagination. I mean, their photo collections are just AWESOME! I typically would like to put nice comments in a blog, but seeing the works of these two rendered me “speechless” as I was about type some nice compliments on some of their photos. Clearly, those are not mere photos. Those are works of art. You need to visit the sites of Reggie Santos’ Photography and Claudio’s Photo Site to see for yourself.

Having viewed so many awe-inspiring photos over the past couple of days, I feel the urge to take up photography as a hobby. Thank goodness for digital technology, I need not worry about developing rolls upon rolls of films. That would be really costly. Also, I never did learn to develop photos even if I spent a lot of hours in darkrooms, poking my nose into my father’s and brothers’ businesses without any significant gain on my part. Now all I need is the proper equipment, more time, and FOCUS.

One of my neighbors called my attention this morning. Apparently for the past 2 or 3 weeks, they’ve been missing the music coming from sound system and they thought I was ill or something.

I used to play a lot of music, and I listen to anything from Beethoven to Astrud Gilberto to Evanescence. For the past few weeks, I have been content with playing just Enya and Vivaldi’s Four Seasons here on my computer as I work. For the past week, it was just the Four Seasons mainly because it was the CD that is already in the CD-ROM.

I really find it amusing because normally, people in a neighborhood would complain if music is too loud. Not in my case. They complained because there was NO music. And so with a chuckle, I came back in and started the music playing. Beyonce provided the opening number as I prepared breakfast. For now, it’s my Queen and Aerosmith collection being played as go Multiply-ing. The neighbors can have Al Jarreau, Eric Clapton, and Sergio Mendes later today as I work. Does that make me the neighborhood DJ or what?

Débridement. The removal of devitalized, damaged, or infected tissue to improve the healing potential of the remaining healthy tissue. A medical/surgical terminology.

That word kept playing on my mind as I sat by the window on the eve of Easter, almost lost in thought as I set about mentally shortlisting the things that I wanted to have happen in my life. Somehow the clinical sound of that word that I uttered as I blankedly scribbled it on the corners of my pad once, twice, and then thrice, snapped me back to the present dimension. “Odd,” I thought. I had wrapped up the medical transcription job for the day a few hours earlier and had totally abandoned all thought related to work. I do not recall ever hearing or typing that word earlier today. So why is “Débridement” repetitively playing in my head like a last song syndrome?

Débridement. I thought about the procedure in its potentially gruesome detail. I had witnessed it a number of times when my late mother was confined on several occasions for diabetic complications. My mother, the most chicken-hearted person I had ever met in my entire life, feared pain and discomfort, although these two became her constant companions during the last two decades of her life. She had learned to live with them, embracing them as part of her reality. And so with all the courage she could muster, she even tolerated débridement sans anesthesia quite well. It was essential, the doctors would patiently explain to us. It would speed up the healing process. The tissues were dead anyway and would cause more harm when left in there. Best to take them out so the wound could heal properly.

My thoughts turned to my life, wondering if “Débridement” that is now playing like a mantra in my mind has any significance in my life—my NOW. Certainly, I could claim that I am at the prime of my life. I am happy with my relationship with family and friends. I love my career, and I definitely enjoy and value my independence. On the surface, my life is as calm and beautiful as a peaceful, sun-kissed lake. Yet, I wonder if I was merely putting on a happy face—a perfect profile, when in fact a lot of “devitalized tissues” are begging to be removed from my life. It could be anything that weighs me down and gives me a sense of uncertainty despite my flamboyant airs—sins of omission and commission, past hurts and emotional baggages, frustrations caused by missions unaccomplished, perhaps even memories of past and fading glories that I still want to bask in out of sheer narcissism.

If I were to be completely honest now, I would say that I am indeed fooling myself by thinking that I am in a perfect state. That is impossible! No person is perfect. Not on this earth. I know, and I FEEL that there is much that need to be debrided from my life. I do have my own ghosts from the past. There were past mistakes and sins that I can’t seem to shake off my mind. I have my share of past hurts and emotional baggages—lots of them. And, yes, I still want to bask in my past glories. Such egotism despite the failings and the sins. Shame on me! Many times I simply turned a deaf ear to that one small voice of God within, distracted by the enthralling sounds of the world. Surely, even my spiritual ears need a good débridement!

This is Easter, the season of New Life. Resurrection. Rebirth. Let my prayer be: “Lord, I am a sinner. I am imperfect. I have refused to surrender my life’s baggages completely to You and have refused to heal. Debride my life. Debride my soul and that I may be whole. Teach me to let go of the past and let me live my life NOW in accordance with Your will. Open my mind and heart so that I may fully embrace the love, life and salvation that You have given fully and freely. Let me accept these wondrous gifts with a contrite heart. Make me worthy of your gifts. Right this moment, debride me, Lord”

UNoriginal title up there, huh? Oh well…I’ve never really been good at coming up with creative words of art anyway.

So how was it?

By normal human standard, I would say it was boring. While everybody else was at the beach or places analogous to the foregoing to have some fun and sun, I was cooped up in my room, typing away for the love of my job. Yes, U.S. doctors’ clinics were open on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, which meant that Philippine-based moi had work coming in until Black Saturday. They had the usual number of patients too. There will also be the usual weekend hospital account that will come in on our “Araw ng Kagitingan.” So, I guess any dream vacation I want to have will have to wait until the 4th of July–I usually am “jobless” at that time of the year.

I also did something very strange. I actually bid my Multiply contacts farewell for three days–that, following days and days of cheerful/zany quips and exchanges. My reason? I thought it that the Holy Week was a perfect time for all of us to get some peace and quiet so as to better appreciate the solemnity and the meaning of the season. It was also a good exercise in patience for me to hold back on making smart-aleck remarks for a change despite the fun that comes with such exchanges.

Now, the strangest part is that for the first time in years, I looked forward to Easter as much as I did New Year’s Day. After all, isn’t Easter about REBIRTH? A new life given to us by the grace of God through His Son, Jesus Christ. Okay, I won’t go any preachier that that. Suffice to say that it was indeed like a new beginning for me. I was also into making new plans and resolutions like I would do for the New Year.

For the past three days after I was done with my usual workload, I found myself listing things that I would like to do and the things that I need to do to reorganize my life (it’s a mess the way it is…:D). I also found time to go through the contents of my computer. I deleted a few FTPs that I no longer use. I also sorted hundreds of photos. I burned a few CDs worth of them and sent some to Flickr to declog my hard disk drive. I also organized and uploaded photos for a new site (Multiply again for ease of use) that will be dedicated to my Beagle kennel–I have been planning for this kennel for at least the past two years.

I also spent a few more hours in quiet meditation and reflection–time that I would normally spend online chatting or checking my Multiply sites. I felt a whole lot more peaceful afterwards. Perhaps I have been spending too many hours online…this is not always productive in my case as I am still quite technologically challenged.

This is the first time in years that I did not spend the Holy Week outside of home, but I must say that this has been a most productive, albeit quiet, week for me. True, I was stuck at home the whole time, but it was time well spent. It is the first time in many years that I realized the coming of Easter is a New Beginning in every sense of the word.

Happy Easter, Everyone!