The Real Value of Reason by nankurunaisa

Knowing how important education in life is is very important, however education is not enough to fill the real gap in reality. The people of education says that having a great standard of education opens the door to success and those who have the high degree of education will be successful in life

However, those who have the degree are not the powerful ones but those people who stand back and look at everything practically. These people are commonly found everywhere in the society, actually not every great man studied in school. There are great people who intended to spend time with the real life instead of spending time in the paper chase like Einstein, Bill Gates and Edison.

They said that after you graduated in college you will receive the fruit of your hard work however there are people who end up drinking liquor and beverages in sidewalk after receiving their diplomas. They believe success will come to your hand with a ball pen and a piece of paper. They thought that after studying, they’ll end up as a citizen in a different scale

Most of us study with no personal and valuable reason, we study because there is nothing we can do aside from studying. We keep pursuing something without having a reason to pursue it.

The true role of education is to prepare ourselves for the real challenges in life however having only education will now help you cross the bridge of life. Now knowing the meaning of the education you achieved in your life will cause the fissure of your life that will rapture you to the ground.

I still believe in the value of reason. Not having one might give you success but it will cause you regrets. Regrets that you will carry with your epitaph.

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nankurunaisa, a stupid-looking person but is more dumb than what he looks like.

Was it Romantic or Purely Platonic?

A review [more of a reflection] of the stage play entitled Ismail and Isabel presented by the Philippine Educational Theater Association shown at PETA Theater Center on August 30, 2009, 3:00 pm.

It was almost 9:30 pm at Acacia Lane. There were drops of rain subtly falling from the sky. It was dark but bravely dim. “Ominous weather,” I told myself. Whenever a public utility vehicle stopped, a lot of people would try to push other passengers to get a seat for themselves. Luckily, I was spared of the body wrestling and my butt was given barely half a seat. I was trying to comfortably settle on my prize when a child, barely 12 years old, entered the vehicle. He slowly walked down the narrow isle distributing envelopes with a short letter: “Koya, pangkain lang po.” The letters were barely readable – I could easily imagine how the boy tried his best to scribble down the note. I told myself, “Here’s another Ismail and Isabel, another victim – perhaps not of a war in Mindanao – but of another greater and more complicated battle against poverty, crises, and social injustice.”

I asked the boy what his name was. And in an almost inaudible voice, he said, “Toto po.” I looked at the people around me and noticed that no one really got bothered to even look at Toto. “Poor boy,” my mind whispered to myself. “His heart will be as empty of sympathy as his envelopes of pennies.” I could blame no one. Everyone looked so tired and weary that, at that moment, the sole individual concern was to go home safely to lay his or her back – and be dead until the next morning.

“Toto?” I repeated. The boy simply nodded.

Instead of putting some coins in his envelope, I gave him the crackers I had in my bag. Not far from where he rode with us, he collected all the empty envelopes and get off the jeepney as fast as he could. In a second or two, he was gone – out of sight, but not from mind. Not of my thought about Toto, or of Ismail and Isabel. Words began to find their paths to weave questions in my head: Was he also from Dilangawen? Does he also dream of adventures? Does he also try to fill his wanting stomach with folktales? Or has he readily stopped dreaming and hoping that someday he could make his own great and triumphant story to tell? “How would he,” I reflectively said, “if his immediate concern is how to live today so that he could at least see the flickering light of someday.” I made sense I know.

The narrative of Ismail and Isabel, or of Toto’s story, is not a new thing for Filipinos. The conflict in Mindanao has become an endless story about grieving parents, abused children, and dying civilians. Many, if not all, have become like my co-passengers at the jeepney – numb and oblivious of all that is happening in the South. Why? Because the war has readily become like a social norm in the Philippines. Filipinos have become adapted to it. Or simply put – in an artistic language – the war in Mindanao has become a piece of story devoid of aesthetic elements – of creativity, primarily.

Ismail and Isabel may not be a new tale of struggle, but its presentation was fresh and dynamic. I might not have seen the adeptness in the actors’ stage performances, but I have felt their awareness of what they were presenting. They were not really professionals yet, but their intentions to ingrain in our hearts the strong message of the alms seekers transcended the boundaries of professionalism. I also could not help but admire Rody Vera on his idea that – amidst our worries that the victims of war may lose access to basic needs such as shelter, food, and clothing – the bigger concern are not really those but that these children may lose their “power to dream, to imagine, and to hope.”

“It was not a bad idea that our longing for material needs could be substituted by the abundance of our imaginations’ produce,” the implied said of the play. But I said, “What if the minds could no longer work to produce and weave consumable literature? Besides, will the seed of written art sprout in a hungry mind which is no different from a barren soil?”

I must say the performers were cool. They were just great – terribly great. For their age, they definitely deserve applause and approval. Despite their squeaking voices and not so identifiable voices, I must say they have the talents to reflect emotions. The choreography was also one thing worthy of our respect. No doubt Carlon Matobato is a pro. Sometimes though, I couldn’t make sense on why they needed to do summersaults and break dancing. It made a show within a show. Were those really needed?

And the last, issue into which all my reviews will boil into: The relationship between Ismail and Isabel that the narrative would want to tell. Was it romantic or purely platonic? Was it the opposite sex kind of love or the brotherly-sisterly love? In some acts, the play would almost always like to suggest that the two characters would end up together as lovers. But when the audience was about to be convinced, Isabel would suddenly call Ismael as “Kuya,” instantly dismissing the tingling feeling from the viewers. What was really that? Did the play really want to say that amidst crime, violence, and war, there would always be a hope, a romantic love that would bloom?

Where’s Miss Maribel Legarda? Can you rewind the show and further explain the issue for us?



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This essay was submitted to Dr. Del Fierro as a requirement for her class in Foundations of Language.

"My Wonderful Days" by Bia

The school of Basey National High School is my dear alma mater,where I started to enjoy mylife, with my funny classmates.In my first year high school days, sometimes we are not so serious in our study, we always hang-out everywhere and do everything we want to do, bonding everywhere, we shared those comedy stories, jokes rather than to study our lessons. Mostly everyone of us was not intended to read books. I thought if how's my condition when it comes a fourth year student? because during our T.L.E subject, I saw those fourth year students make a delicious cake as their project and I'm insecured to them in those activity that they made.I know that the time will come that i will experience that kind of activity they had made.

When I reached my second year, third and fourth year, I tried to stand on my own, for my family have no time for me in attending whatever school activity, so I my own did it for me. Like when the enrollment comes, I myself tried to talk to a person who is attended in that particular arrangement of my papers to comply my needs and when my school days comes whatever the school administration calls for parents to attend meetings. I myself pretended that my parents is on my side but in truth my purpose is just to listen for what must my parents will contribute on what will be the result of a particular school assembly for Parents and Teachers together for school organization.Now and then, I've experience a lot, with my schoolmates, classmates, teachers and more teachers loves me during my high school life, sometimes one of my teacher wants me to live in their house, but more I love my grandma, I can't leave her whatever happen.

To my every subject, I wished to have a good grades in every grading periods that I liked to see in my report cards, but in what way i can get a good grades? Then, I realized that I can't reached those grades I had dreamed if i did not study hard and try to become intended in this hobby. Through my faith and hardwork I overcome it. Then I started to shared my knowledge to my classmates and I started to become serious and responsible student. Especially in my fourth year high school for we are still graduating , we must aware in evrything for what is happening. Currently, maybe we are in critical situation for choosing the careerfor our future. Even there are times that we're in a difficulty in life living, we had been enjoyed our days while we're being solved the problems.

I still remember my happiest moments that we had been together with my classmates when my classmate invited us to their fiesta. We walked together to their far place where they had been celebrate their fiestas. We're so much excited & enjoyed on that occassion, there's a lot of people are happy, there is a closeness of friends, relatives, and togetherness for the whole barangay. Then, we enjoyed eating delicious different kinds of foods, then go to different beautiful places, chuch, gymnasium, where we saw different games, carnabals, the beautiful beaches, I heard and saw the wonderful sound of sea waves on sea shores. Suddenly, when the graduation came, most of us didn't like to far apart each other, 'coz we missed each others in those days that we'd been together during our laughters and fears the emotions that we had. Some of my classmates saying "Hope it will back to the future".

Thus, most of us are not ready to enter college life. High school is different to college life., it is facing a challenges and careern and excitement, sometimes fear. But in high school full of enjoyment and laughters. Then, I relaized that there is no way to progress in dicontinous studying. And now, i accept that improvement is needed. No matter how difficult it is to face challenges in this profession. Therefore, now and then following my destiny and my wonderful days of life wiht my faith and love to God.

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BIA is a first year college student in Rizal Technological University and was enrolled in College of Nursing. She is a trying hard person to all things that she would like to do. She had a blue eye. She is a simple girl but beautiful, brave and humble. She likes a person who are thruth not fake. She like a color pink that symbolize joy. Her hobby is writing and reading English Novels and Bible.

Why I Want to Become a Nurse by Ophelia Borja

When I was still young, I thought that the world was for my taking. I had wanted to become a scientist, a fashion designer and sometimes a simple ice cream flavor maker. I had dreams of becoming insanely rich,powerful and famous. Then as I grew older and began to think more reasonably, I started to see the world for what it really is, well not an unhopeful world but not the sunshine, rainbows type either that I thought it would be as a little girl. Sometimes things do not happen the way you hope it would be. First, my parents would just not agree to send me to a Fashion school nor a Culinary one. It was too much risky and expensive, they demand that I seek a more stable course and I wasn't able to complain and had to go with their decision. After all they are the ones financially responsible for my education. Then I had to choose. What is it that makes me happy as much as designing or eating ice cream does, is there something else that I'm interested in doing ? A reliable course that my parents would happily comply with.

Growing up with both my parents working in a hospital have greatly influenced my decision. Seeing them help other people made me understand that true joy does not lie on fancy clothes nor scrumptious sweets but in being able to do kind acts to other people,even though you hardly even know them at all. So I chose to take up nursing, even after all the rage that nursing is not in demand anymore and were bound to end up in call centers.I say being a nurse is very advantageous. Being a nurse brings stability since there will always be a sick person to be taken care of.Another is that being a nurse opens more oppurtunities to expand my studies by choosing from the varieties of specialties a nurse can choose and excel in. I also took up nursing because it has always been one of my dreams to become a doctor and taking up nursing as my pre-med is a useful experience prior to taking up medicine, for I can choose to work or study after graduation, depending on my situation in the future. And of course, taking up nursing does not only benefit me but all the people around me which I can help whenever the need to arises.

All things considered, Nursing was the best course I could take up in view of the benefits of this profession and I did. It also settled things between me and my parents on what and why I should take up nursing as my course.

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Ophelia Borja indulges herself with reading her favorite books such as Lolita, Alice in Wonderland, A Series of Unfortunate Events series and some other stuff. When she’s not reading, she could either be watching movies she likes again and again like Marie Antoinette, Rushmore, Eternal sunshine of the Spotless Mind and other movies directed by her favorite directors Wes Anderson and Sofia Coppola or listening to French techno, Japanese pop and Brechtian punk . She’s an avid fan of the pinup scene, haute couture and sketches her own designs when she feels like it. She enjoys spending a lot of time with her stp buddies, going out and attending gigs. She dreams to be a Psychiatric doctor someday.

Study Tip 1: Magnanimous Loser

What a title… What do you think do I really know about self-improvement?

Never mind though.

Before I proceed, I want to make a disclaimer first — that when it comes to giving self-improvement advice, I’m neither a professional nor an expert. In short, follow this tip at your own risk. There is something I am certain though, that I’m a trying hard who is persistently adding usefulness to my blog entries because of their continuous sheer lack of it.

But wait! Have I not named my blog Kwaderno, the Filipino term for notebook? Well, that’s because I want to take down as much lessons and notes as I can while taking this journey I’m temporarily calling K-O TRAVEL.

So, this is more of a for-me-tip than for-you-tip.

Improve Your Vocabulary

Through the course of my initial voyage, I met two excellent writers. The first one was my Editor-In-Chief in a publication and the other one was a former colleague in a not so humane company. They had something in common, an attitude that I think was directly proportional to their verbal skills and rhetoric. They were calling their USP, laptop, and mugs with names — as if these were pets with birth certificates. Weird, don’t you think so? Perhaps yes, unusually bizarre. Admirable, nonetheless.

I told myself, “That is just so cool. Why should I not do the same for my things, too?”

I began with my pen. “From now on, I’m calling you magnanimous loser,” I once said while raising my new Pilot pen, recently bought from a supermarket near my boarding house.

Magnanimous was a term I encountered while reading an article. I couldn’t easily remember and use it inspite of my great efforts to repeatedly commit it to my long-term memory. Hence, to awaken my hippocampus and temporal lobes, I had attached magnanimous to my ball pen. In the absence, however, of another noun for magnanimous to correctly describe, I remained uncomfortable, if not totally incapable of, using it in my writings. I therefore added to it the word loser, the term magnanimous objectively illustrated in the same article it was written. That was how magnanimous loser pen came to existence.

I felt an overwhelming sense of happiness: little smile, forceful shout — which were already awesomely intense for a sick writer like me.

“Whoo! Whee! I could now be great, be an emperor like Julius Caesar, be a founding father like Abraham Lincoln, or be a national hero like Jose Rizal. I named a pen of my own, a weapon sharper and mightier than a double-edged sword.”

Not long after, magnanimous loser ran out of ink. That was even before I could conquer the whole of Europe, establish a super power country in the West, or receive a heroic recognition from my peers. I didn’t get so sad though, but still, I delivered a eulogy.

During the burial, I was the only one present. No one could hear my melodramatic speech, because everything was just in my head: “Ei, magnanimous, you might have lasted only for a month, but you left me important lessons in life. First, that losers can still be noble. Second, that I could be one word richer than before by attaching new vocabulary to my personal belongings. I shall never forget these values. Goodbye.”

Then, I threw it into the trash can.

The following day, I bought a pair of shoes. “Hello guys! You, left footwear, I’m calling you ‘ennui’, and you, right footwear, I’m calling you ‘boredom’. You’re twins – synonymous — always remember that. Don’t fight, be together at all times. Bring me to nice places where words are happiness and vocabularies are temporary refuge from sadness.”

Would you like to take a guess of where they’ve brought me so far?#