Speaking of school...

You know, that was for my Rizal Class. I bet you couldn't guess. It's kind of rushed and sloppy. I wasn't too interested in the topic. It's pretty boring and plain a topic to be creative. And we had a limit of only a single page on MSWord, possibly with 1.5 line spacing which I didn't want to use. There's nothing to be proud of if you can write that much. A middle-schooler should be able to write that much. Hell. We had a minimum of words to write. 180 words. I've used more words in MSN conversations with my friend Lochy. 180 isn't much of a standard. Much less for a college level class.

Am I being elitist? Maybe I'm being extremely critical of today's youth. Maybe I'm just bitter. I remember back in elementary school when we were forced to read books so we could pass. I also remember that I got free pizza if read enough books. Reading was fun, I read bunches of books - Huck Finn, Desperation, Onion John, and things like that. That was in the 5th grade. 5th grade. This started not only in the 5th grade but as early as 3rd grade. It was a brilliant idea to force children to increase their literacy. Books are wonderful gateways to excitement and all that jazz. Now they don't. What the hell.

It might be that it's a different school system but that doesn't excuse the illiteracy that I have observed. I don't want to be so opinionated but I've observed it firsthand. My younger sister doesn't read that much. I'm ashamed. Deeply ashamed. Maybe not deeply but she doesn't read enough for her own good. We have several shelves of grade school level books, particularly in my older sister's room. I clearly know that there are dozens of Baby Sitters Club or Sweet Valley High books. One or the other. Maybe it's not that clear but that doesn't deter the point I want to show. We have the means but she doesn't use 'em.

I now want to vent a bit about my last few English professors. One teacher wasn't exactly a bad teacher, not in the least. However, there was one question in a certain quiz that discredited any faith I had in her profession. Stay with me here, it's not heinous for most people but if this was heard by sound-minded people, there will be RAGE. Now the question in... question: What is the book of all books, the greatest book of all time, etc. etc. ? Some of you might be anticipating the answer and I'm sure you might be right. Her answer? The Bible. The bloody Bible. I have no problem with the Bible as a piece of literature, it's actually quite nice, I've read it. But let's be honest, greatest book of ever? That's just too opinionated and close-minded to be in good taste. She's only lucky it's a Catholic-themed country or there will be head rolling.

The second teacher is also a fine teacher, I suppose. It's just that she's old. Yeah. Old. Geriatric. She isn't extremely old, maybe. In her 60's probably. It's a minor complaint really. It isn't the fact that she's old but that she thinks certain things are still a modern representation of the world today. The thing that caught my ear: "Negro people use the slang term flatfoot to refer to the police." Like I said, minor. First, she used the word Negro. I'm not racist or really aware of political correctness but I'm thinking Negro is more derogatory than Black. I remember watching The Color of Friendship on Disney a few years ago and that I realized that there are so many ways to refer to Black people that it's racist. I think most people can agree that saying Black is just dandy. At least better than Negro. Especially in a class of purely Asians where there is no risk in being a racist bigot.

Next word. Flatfoot. It's quite true that Flatfoot refers to the police, detectives in particular. It is not true that it is used purely by Black people. Notice how I didn't say Negro. It's mostly used by gangsters of the mafia sort. In the 1930's. Wow. Think about that. I would understand if she used the term Popos in that example but Flatfoot? Man. Get with the times.

I guess I'm just being picky but it gets on my nerves. Enough of venting though. I'm tired. I just hope that the school systems would some how pick up the slack. I also wish the libraries would have a better fiction section. Bookstores too. Eh. Too bad. One can dream.

NP: Vintage Queen - Goldfinger What can I say? I love Goldfinger to bits and this song is just honey in my ears.

Thought of the day: Don't believe in yourself. Believe in me who believes in you.

For school

My Rizal Blog

There is one main reason that Filipinos have in leaving their country, the Philippines, and that would be financial reasons. It is a somewhat common fact that Filipinos have a tendency to think that the only way to get the real money is to leave their country. We have come to believe in the saying that the grass is greener on the other side and have decided that we want that grass. A vast amount of Filipinos have gone abroad to the Middle East, Europe, and North America in the hope that they can better their own life as well as their family through the money that they expect to earn. Sometimes, though, this may not come to fruition.

This leads us to an underlying fact that many Filipinos believe that the only road to a fulfilled life is the road out of the Philippines. The privileged few are able to send themselves to school out of country for their tertiary education for a jumpstart in a career. They’re also able to find doctors out of the country for extremely complicated procedures that the doctors in the Philippines are not ready to handle, or so they believe. Going on this belief – that there are greener pastures – many also believe that sneaking out of the Philippines and into their country of choice will give them a new chance at life and a positive outlook.

In future response to this culture of leaving our own country, Rizal could have been saying quite a lot to us. He himself had left the Philippines in order to escape the prying eyes of the authorities and also to educate himself. He had a passion to establish a country of equality in the Philippines and saw to it that he would do everything in his power to make sure that he would succeed. Using himself as an example, wouldn’t it be possible that he wanted to tell the Filipinos to not only further their own comfort but to help Mother Philippines?

He could have been trying to tell us that we mustn’t think of purely selfish reasons when leaving the country but have the clarity to remember our roots and try to help our country in any way we can. For those working abroad, they should remember their family and help out in at least a financial way. For those being educated abroad, it’s quite obvious on what they should do – go use their newly attained skills to aid in the progress of the Philippines. It may be a reversal of what they did in trying to escape from the Philippines but it’s sometimes said that those who have forgotten where they have come from have forgotten their own selves.

The main aspect I want to show here in this short piece is how the Filipinos who go abroad in furthering their own lives need to live their life and try their hardest for success. In succeeding, they shouldn’t keep to themselves the fruits of their harvest but also share this success with their home country. This choice, as stated, is strictly limited to the Filipinos who have gone out of country to live a better lifestyle whether it is by working or learning.

What thoughts?

lol I was lying.

NP: Shut Up And Explode - Boom Boom Satellites I want to watch the anime purely for this song.

Thought of the Day: Whatever happens, happens.

Another Telling

To properly understand the gravity of the situation that Billy Jean had just undergone, it is imperative to understand one simple thing. First, let us repeat a paragraph from the last bit.

He was hidden behind a conveniently placed tree. Its trunk was large enough to hide even two grown men. He was thinking it was an oak but in all honesty he wouldn’t be able to tell a palm tree from pine tree. He was a red-blooded American through and through. That was his main problem.

He had many secondary problems as well. He had a family history of Diabetes and as a child he was never allowed to touch sugary food. He would lust for chocolate but it was never given to him. This made him a bitter child and somebody you'd hate to meet the day after Halloween. A more plot-relevant problem was that he had the most fantastic delusions.

A long history of sugar deprivation, child abuse, and depression had led him to severe psychological disorders. It would take quite a while to explain the inner workings, so let's cut to the chase. The man, Billy Jean, currently, thought he was a Cowboy from the 1880's on a vendetta for his deceased family. He based this all on old Western films that he saw as a child.

It would be best to start the story from the beginning then.

“Injuns.”

A ragged voice whispered under his breath. His face was sweating and greasy. Nothing in the world could tear his gaze away from the sight he was beholding.

“Them dirty injuns. Thinkin’ they can outsmart me… I’m gon’ show them rascals.”

The man stroked his gun. It was a beautiful .45 Colt Peacemaker and virtually his only source of joy. He stroked it like a lover, gentle yet firm. He held it close to him like he was a child, helpless if it weren’t for his parent. Most of all though, he was loading it like a gun, ready for the kill.

“I’m gon’ show them what for. They can’t fool me. I’m educated. They can’t fool an American,” he assured himself as he spotted a 6 year old boy wearing a smartly worn grey shirt. He shooed him quickly away. The boy ran over to his mother who was chatting away on a park bench 20 seconds away.

He was hidden behind a conveniently placed tree. It was, in fact, an oak tree. What's more, it was growing in the front yard of a prominent young businessman who was busy washing his car. A lovely red Accord that complimented his smile and stature near-perfectly.

The suburban street was filled with a tangy air of barbecue. There was a small party several houses away. Billy Jean spotted a few lawn gnomes. He eyed them shortly in awe as he mistook them for tumbleweeds. He kissed his gun's barrel while the businessman vacuumed up the trunk of his car.

The businessman's home was a nice two story home, newly built, and without blemish. Billy Jean was watching his movement's closely. He liked the horse he saw. It was still a car though but that didn't bother him a bit as he plotted how he'd snatch it from his enemy's hold.

He aimed his revolver with a steady hand and shot. A deafening crack rang out and as did a scream. The bullet hit the businessman’s shoulder and he was writhing with pain on the dusty ground. The gunshot rang throughout the block. A man from the barbecue ran out to see what was going on and just as quickly called the police on his phone. The women and children at the park were running to their own homes in fear.

“Dirty Redskin! That’ll learn ya to mess with Buckin’ Billy Jean!” said the man in triumph. He was running towards the downed man ready for the kill. He aimed his gun again but at point black range. He slowly put it down after a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m better ‘n you. I won’t kill ya and dirty my bullets.” Buckin’ Billy Jean thought this was a rather noble line as he mounted his new found horse. “I’m a good soul and may God in heav’n have mercy on yer soul.”

The key was in the man's pocket and Billy Jean grabbed a hold of them. It's quite amazing that his body didn't follow his mind completely, otherwise he'd be whipping a car to go. What was even more amazing was that he got this far without being too closely noticed by any bystanders. Most likely they thought he was a bum and should be left alone.

The sound of several sirens filled the air as two patrol cars rushed down the street towards Billy Jean. He was already speeding down the suburbs at freeway speeds.

“Dirty cheats.” He whispered to himself as he looked towards the patrol cars and suddenly spun out as he hit a spiked strip of road.

He jumped out of the car. He was surrounded by 4 policemen. They approached him carefully, calling him to assume the position and surrender. Billy Jean heard gibberish. He was waving his revolver around and the officers knew they couldn't risk any civilian injury. One lunged at him from the side and fired off a taser. A quick buzz ran through Billy Jean.

“YA DIRTY REDSKINS WILL NEVER BREAK OLE BUCKIN’ BILLY JEAN!” screamed the psychotic man as the officers shot off another taser to subdue the criminal.

It wasn't exactly great but I think it was an alright job. I have another post after this for some thoughts running in my head. Most likely.