![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
is twitterpated... :)
December 27th, 2009
, this christmas season, shall not indulge in the 'ghosts of christmases past'... ;P
watched a movie at Eastwood's Ultra7 cinema...lazyboy, unlimited popcorn, and overflowing soda...not bad...seats were comfortable and, comparing them to those at the premiere cinema in jakarta, close enough for momol. hahaha!
December 28th, 2009
I hate occasions that call for long pants. Ang init kasi. Long live short shorts and short skirts.
December 26th, 2009
needs more time!!!! for Diner Dash Seasonal Snack Pack and Parking Dash! Heehee.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
Hello. I was just doing some reading about the lives of various saints and I came across two in particular that sort of disturbed me (a common phenomenon when reading about the saints). The two are Angela of Foligno and Catherine of Siena who supposedly both suffered from a condition (perhaps not the right word for it?) called "anorexia mirabilis" which, simply put, is excessive fasting, usually in the name of God sometimes "characterized" by a miraculous lack of appetite. They were both reported to have only sustained themselves on the pus of the sores of the sick, and it's possible that Angela might have eaten scabs and lice from the sick. I don't think they ate very much else. I suppose we can't know absolutely, without any doubt, that this is true but for a moment let's pretend that they both did this.
I know VERY little about both of these saints. I make no assumptions about their lives or why they became canonized, but I'm going a hazard a guess that the miracle of their prolonged lives having been sustained on nothing (or pus) might have had something to do with it. If so, do we continue to honor individual saints like these because of what they represent (devotion, love of God, self sacrifice, etc.) or do we consciously recognize that MAYBE this "devotion" might have been mental illness? If they were mentally ill can we actually call them saints? Wouldn't that be nothing more than honoring, well, an illness? I know we can't ever really know, but what are your thoughts just for the heck of it?
In either case, should we support such extreme forms of devotion? Flagellation, sleeping on beds of thorns and other various forms of self-torture have been practiced in the name of God, as a form of punishment or sacrifice but how does the church view this today? Is it encouraged or at least supported? My instincts tell me that the Church probably wouldn't want people torturing themselves and causing themselves harm in the name of God, but it's been honored in the lives of some saints and so I wonder if it's just considered a rare but devoted practice. If so, how do we tell the difference between devotion and mental illness (or perhaps even fetish)?
I hope this isn't too graphic, if I need to put this under a cut, let me know. Thanks for your opinions. I value them.
I know VERY little about both of these saints. I make no assumptions about their lives or why they became canonized, but I'm going a hazard a guess that the miracle of their prolonged lives having been sustained on nothing (or pus) might have had something to do with it. If so, do we continue to honor individual saints like these because of what they represent (devotion, love of God, self sacrifice, etc.) or do we consciously recognize that MAYBE this "devotion" might have been mental illness? If they were mentally ill can we actually call them saints? Wouldn't that be nothing more than honoring, well, an illness? I know we can't ever really know, but what are your thoughts just for the heck of it?
In either case, should we support such extreme forms of devotion? Flagellation, sleeping on beds of thorns and other various forms of self-torture have been practiced in the name of God, as a form of punishment or sacrifice but how does the church view this today? Is it encouraged or at least supported? My instincts tell me that the Church probably wouldn't want people torturing themselves and causing themselves harm in the name of God, but it's been honored in the lives of some saints and so I wonder if it's just considered a rare but devoted practice. If so, how do we tell the difference between devotion and mental illness (or perhaps even fetish)?
I hope this isn't too graphic, if I need to put this under a cut, let me know. Thanks for your opinions. I value them.
One of the most beautiful things I've experienced this Christmas. If I were a crier, I would have bawled over this. But I'm not, so I just smiled. One day, I'm gonna watch Andrea Bocelli perform live. Haha. Merry Christmas. GLORIA IN EXCELSIS DEO!
A funny thing happened on the way home from Cavite, after visiting my lolo, on the 24th.
Papa was driving through Roxas Boulevard or some other road near it---I was never good with road names---when we hit the tail end of what seemed to be a long, long line of traffic. It should not have mattered. After all, out of all the people in the car, I was the only one awake (aside from my father, of course). Mama was snoozing, I think, in the passenger seat. Same goes for my aunt, my cousin, and my niece on the backseats. My siblings were presumably sleeping too. We woke really early to visit our relatives in Cavite, especially lolo, who was just recovering from a stroke and was still re-learning how to speak.
Kuya noticed it first. A bright, red vehicle crawled on the lane beside us. A second look revealed the words I Love You, Goodbye printed on curvy writing on the side of the vehicle. A look above was all it took for Kuya to announce to the people sleeping in the car: "Si Derek Ramsey! Si Angelica Panganiban! Si Kim Chiu!"
It worked better than an alarm clock or aluminum pans clanging against each other. I think my mother screamed "SAAN?!" first, before going positively berserk and rolling down her window. At the mention of the word "Derek," my older female cousin, who was just drooling in her sleep a while ago, raised her head, quick as lightning, and removed the towel covering her eyes. She leaned toward the window (she was sitting in the middle) and squashed my brother's face to get a better view. May aunt did the same and stuck her head in the jumble of bodies now leaning toward one side of the car, since my sister was now also jolted awake. Not to be outdone, my younger niece---who considers me her godmother---just shrieked and shrieked and shrieked the name of the actor I just mentioned earlier. Mama competed by screaming "I love you Gabby!" above the din.
These are times when I think my body is not producing enough amounts of estrogen or progesterone. I satisfied myself with gazing out any open space in the window, and observing this queer human behavior unfolding right in front of my very eyes.
Because of the pandemonium that ensued inside the car, Papa had to slow down a bit to allow most of my family to go crazy over the celebrities aboard the float. A car angrily honked from behind. It drove next to us and the male driver began shooting my mother dirty looks, to which Mama responded: "HEH! HINDI IKAW SI GABBY!" Mama proceeded to slap Papa's back and coerced him to park nearby so we could all get down from the car and shriek more freely from the streets. I was only too happy to be the last one to go out. This was going to be interesting. My only regret was I didn't bring a camera.
A thin line of onlookers was already gathering on the road. I'm guessing I Love You Goodbye's float was one of the first, or the first to pass by the avenue. My brother began taking what were to be bad photos using Papa's phone. My sister and my niece were together, along with my aunt and cousin who were excitedly talking in loud voices as more floats approached. What made me laugh above all, however, was dear old Mama, who was jumping up and down near the middle of the street along with other women, shouting her heart out, laughing, and joining the scramble whenever someone aboard a float throws a calendar or candies or packs of tissue (which is a weird thing to throw, by the way). Mama was so happy in a way that made her younger by ten years that day, and me---because I was just observing, absorbing the ridiculousness of it all, maybe giggling or biting my lip once in a while---older.
This is your official authorization to start calling me a geek. Or KJ. Or just someone who does not know how to have fun or let go or loosen up. (Or, someone normal.) Because while the floats passed---Pacquiao's Wapakman included (and what a ridiculous movie name that is!)---I couldn't help but think of thesis. As Dolphy sat above his float, I couldn't help thinking this man was old and corny and should stop making movies and just retire in peace. Sharon Cuneta was really fat. What happened to that woman's diet regimen? Rufa Mae Quinto's skin was too white, it's impossible.
None of the floats was designed well, nor do the movies' trailers make me want to see any of these artists. And yet here they were, waving to the crowd who absolutely adores them, my family included. Kuya would later brag, as we finally drove away from the traffic through a side street, how Kim Chiu waved at him. "Hindi ko alam kung ipagyayabang ko ba o hindi eh," he said, as the car shook with laughter. Papa would tell Mama jokingly how Rufa Gutierrez looked at him for a second. "Nagwapuhan sa akin eh," he said, his words mixing with the lively chatter of my aunt, cousin, sister, and niece discussing Rayver Cruz's good looks. Mama would recall how we already met Gabby Concepcion once, in a church during Kuya's baptism several years ago. "Kaya lang naman ako bumaba dahil kay Gabby eh," she reasoned, forgetting that we spent a considerable amount of time waiting for all the floats to pass by, because of her insistence.
While everyone was reveling in our collective experience of celebrity (and what a geeky phrase that was), a policeman hailed Papa and signaled him to stop. He was supposed to have violated a rule on the lanes. We were quiet. When the policeman let him go (and I say this with pride) without Papa having to bribe him or anything, the chatter continued, my brother making jokes about celebrities, my family heartily laughing at every turn, me included.
Oh, I try to push myself out, but they pull me in every time.
---
Later we would welcome Christmas. Mama and my sister would be dancing, Kuya would be diving into a bowl of carbonara, Papa would be drinking his third bottle of beer while animatedly talking to someone seated beside him. On his other side would be me---freshly woken up in time for noche buena, observing the merriment, and smiling to myself as I think of writing a book, of not writing a book, of how words, however abundant, would never be quite fitting or adequate.
Papa was driving through Roxas Boulevard or some other road near it---I was never good with road names---when we hit the tail end of what seemed to be a long, long line of traffic. It should not have mattered. After all, out of all the people in the car, I was the only one awake (aside from my father, of course). Mama was snoozing, I think, in the passenger seat. Same goes for my aunt, my cousin, and my niece on the backseats. My siblings were presumably sleeping too. We woke really early to visit our relatives in Cavite, especially lolo, who was just recovering from a stroke and was still re-learning how to speak.
Kuya noticed it first. A bright, red vehicle crawled on the lane beside us. A second look revealed the words I Love You, Goodbye printed on curvy writing on the side of the vehicle. A look above was all it took for Kuya to announce to the people sleeping in the car: "Si Derek Ramsey! Si Angelica Panganiban! Si Kim Chiu!"
It worked better than an alarm clock or aluminum pans clanging against each other. I think my mother screamed "SAAN?!" first, before going positively berserk and rolling down her window. At the mention of the word "Derek," my older female cousin, who was just drooling in her sleep a while ago, raised her head, quick as lightning, and removed the towel covering her eyes. She leaned toward the window (she was sitting in the middle) and squashed my brother's face to get a better view. May aunt did the same and stuck her head in the jumble of bodies now leaning toward one side of the car, since my sister was now also jolted awake. Not to be outdone, my younger niece---who considers me her godmother---just shrieked and shrieked and shrieked the name of the actor I just mentioned earlier. Mama competed by screaming "I love you Gabby!" above the din.
These are times when I think my body is not producing enough amounts of estrogen or progesterone. I satisfied myself with gazing out any open space in the window, and observing this queer human behavior unfolding right in front of my very eyes.
Because of the pandemonium that ensued inside the car, Papa had to slow down a bit to allow most of my family to go crazy over the celebrities aboard the float. A car angrily honked from behind. It drove next to us and the male driver began shooting my mother dirty looks, to which Mama responded: "HEH! HINDI IKAW SI GABBY!" Mama proceeded to slap Papa's back and coerced him to park nearby so we could all get down from the car and shriek more freely from the streets. I was only too happy to be the last one to go out. This was going to be interesting. My only regret was I didn't bring a camera.
A thin line of onlookers was already gathering on the road. I'm guessing I Love You Goodbye's float was one of the first, or the first to pass by the avenue. My brother began taking what were to be bad photos using Papa's phone. My sister and my niece were together, along with my aunt and cousin who were excitedly talking in loud voices as more floats approached. What made me laugh above all, however, was dear old Mama, who was jumping up and down near the middle of the street along with other women, shouting her heart out, laughing, and joining the scramble whenever someone aboard a float throws a calendar or candies or packs of tissue (which is a weird thing to throw, by the way). Mama was so happy in a way that made her younger by ten years that day, and me---because I was just observing, absorbing the ridiculousness of it all, maybe giggling or biting my lip once in a while---older.
This is your official authorization to start calling me a geek. Or KJ. Or just someone who does not know how to have fun or let go or loosen up. (Or, someone normal.) Because while the floats passed---Pacquiao's Wapakman included (and what a ridiculous movie name that is!)---I couldn't help but think of thesis. As Dolphy sat above his float, I couldn't help thinking this man was old and corny and should stop making movies and just retire in peace. Sharon Cuneta was really fat. What happened to that woman's diet regimen? Rufa Mae Quinto's skin was too white, it's impossible.
None of the floats was designed well, nor do the movies' trailers make me want to see any of these artists. And yet here they were, waving to the crowd who absolutely adores them, my family included. Kuya would later brag, as we finally drove away from the traffic through a side street, how Kim Chiu waved at him. "Hindi ko alam kung ipagyayabang ko ba o hindi eh," he said, as the car shook with laughter. Papa would tell Mama jokingly how Rufa Gutierrez looked at him for a second. "Nagwapuhan sa akin eh," he said, his words mixing with the lively chatter of my aunt, cousin, sister, and niece discussing Rayver Cruz's good looks. Mama would recall how we already met Gabby Concepcion once, in a church during Kuya's baptism several years ago. "Kaya lang naman ako bumaba dahil kay Gabby eh," she reasoned, forgetting that we spent a considerable amount of time waiting for all the floats to pass by, because of her insistence.
While everyone was reveling in our collective experience of celebrity (and what a geeky phrase that was), a policeman hailed Papa and signaled him to stop. He was supposed to have violated a rule on the lanes. We were quiet. When the policeman let him go (and I say this with pride) without Papa having to bribe him or anything, the chatter continued, my brother making jokes about celebrities, my family heartily laughing at every turn, me included.
Oh, I try to push myself out, but they pull me in every time.
---
Later we would welcome Christmas. Mama and my sister would be dancing, Kuya would be diving into a bowl of carbonara, Papa would be drinking his third bottle of beer while animatedly talking to someone seated beside him. On his other side would be me---freshly woken up in time for noche buena, observing the merriment, and smiling to myself as I think of writing a book, of not writing a book, of how words, however abundant, would never be quite fitting or adequate.
Jac, we're coming back for these. HAHA! Ihanda ang asin!
sillyDecember 25th, 2009
Wala akong insight this 2009 Christmas. I don't know why. Was the year that bad? Maybe.
Ayoko ipilit maging insightful kasi WALA TALAGA EH. Maybe I should try uploading a happy photo later. I DONT KNOW. Basta wala akong Christmas entry. Gusto ko lang sabihin na for the most part of the year, in love ako sa mga inexistent and intangible things/entities. Ganun talaga. You know naman, I can actually feign a glowing aura. Took a lot of practice.
Pero salamat po at buhay ako, at masaya. That said without sarcasm because really, 2009 sucked but what the heck, I'm still alive. And well.
Merry Christmas! And to all of you who battled through 2009 with me, I love you. And... CONGRATULATIONS!
xoxo,
theycallmerona
Ayoko ipilit maging insightful kasi WALA TALAGA EH. Maybe I should try uploading a happy photo later. I DONT KNOW. Basta wala akong Christmas entry. Gusto ko lang sabihin na for the most part of the year, in love ako sa mga inexistent and intangible things/entities. Ganun talaga. You know naman, I can actually feign a glowing aura. Took a lot of practice.
Pero salamat po at buhay ako, at masaya. That said without sarcasm because really, 2009 sucked but what the heck, I'm still alive. And well.
Merry Christmas! And to all of you who battled through 2009 with me, I love you. And... CONGRATULATIONS!
xoxo,
theycallmerona
Regardless of how one feels about Pope Benedict XVI, what is unmistakable is his great gift as a homilist. As with every great preacher, some of his best homilies come during the Christmas season, and especially at the Christmas vigil Midnight Mass. Following is, in my opinion, one of the best homilies I have ever read from this pope, and I've read a lot of them. If ever a message will remind us of what we celebrate in this Christmas feast, in what it means to be a Christian, this is it. Merry Christmas everyone!
Benedict XVI's Christmas Vigil Homily
"God Is Important, by Far the Most Important Thing in Our Lives"
VATICAN CITY, DEC. 24, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Here is a Vatican translation of the homily Benedict XVI gave tonight at the Christmas Vigil Mass in the Vatican.
* *
December 24th, 2009
just got back from last minute christmas shopping. di naman mashadong last minute, noh?
A CHRISTMAS PRAYER
Robert Louis Stevenson
Loving Father, Help us remember the birth of Jesus,
that we may share in the song of the angels,
the gladness of the shepherds,
and worship of the wise men.
Close the door of hate and open the door of love all over the world.
Let kindness come with every gift
and good desires with every greeting.
Deliver us from evil by the blessing which Christ brings,
and teach us to be merry with clear hearts.
May the Christmas morning make us happy to be thy children,
and Christmas evening bring us to our beds
with grateful thoughts, forgiving and forgiven,
for Jesus' sake.
Amen.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Loving Father, Help us remember the birth of Jesus,
that we may share in the song of the angels,
the gladness of the shepherds,
and worship of the wise men.
Close the door of hate and open the door of love all over the world.
Let kindness come with every gift
and good desires with every greeting.
Deliver us from evil by the blessing which Christ brings,
and teach us to be merry with clear hearts.
May the Christmas morning make us happy to be thy children,
and Christmas evening bring us to our beds
with grateful thoughts, forgiving and forgiven,
for Jesus' sake.
Amen.
hungrydropping in early to wish everyone a very
Merry Christmas!
(or Happy Holidays to my non-Christian friends :D)
(click to enlarge)
Merry Christmas!
(or Happy Holidays to my non-Christian friends :D)
(click to enlarge)
happyLove love love love love... this season and always! happy christmas!