Assignment for Photojourn

Right to Awareness or Awareness of Rights?
Maricris V. Faderugao BJ 2-1D

December 6, 2008 -- Children all over Metro Manila marched their way from Bustillos Church to Mendiola together with Children’s Rights Advocates and Salinlahi, an alliance for children concerns to address their grievances to the Arroyo Administration. Most of these children came from poor rural communities to support the advocates in voicing out what they have to say about various national issues especially on the issue of children human rights violation.


The theme of the mob was the dream fight between Pacquiao and Dela Hoya. The protesters spoofed the upcoming event and called it a ‘Nightmare match’. PGMA was portrayed as the champion perpetrator among all human rights violators together with George Bush as her primary supporter.

The program consisted life experience talks of the marginalized children who wants to fight for their rights like good education, shelter and food.
Under the book entitled, ‘Uncounted Lives: Children, Women and Conflict in the Philippines’ by the United Nations Children’s Fund (Unicef), a data has been compiled based on the Children’s Rehabilitation Center (CRC) report from 2001-2006. The data shows that out of 800 reported human violation incidents in the Philippines, 215,233 Filipino children were confirmed to be victims. 58 among those kids were murdered, 40 were mutilated and 17 were tortured including various forms and instances of psychological torture. The remaining 215,060 children were evacuees from their homes in the counter- insurgency operations in Mindanao.

Another important issue tackled during the mob is the growing number of Filipinos going overseas. Gary Martinez of Migrante International addressed the vast effects of migration and human skills exportation stressing not only on the economic side but most likely to families and the emotional repression that it’s causing the children because of the absence of their parents. He stressed that while family members from abroad were able to sustain a decent lifestyle for their loved ones in the country, the gap on personal relationships are inevitable which most likely results in having broken families.
Meanwhile, as serious as the program may seem regarding different national issues, the children seemed far too innocent about the cause of the event that they attended. We tried asking some of the kids what they know about the issues that are being raised on the event, apparently we did not get any answer. Those children don’t seem to know where the advocates are saving them from and worse, they were there not knowing what they were doing contrary to the statement of Salinlahi’s Alfons Rivera, the organizer of the mob who claimed to believe that the children knew what they are doing since that they gave seminars and workshops before they brought the kids to protest.

This photo was taken while the program is ongoing.

Losing My Religion

Losing my religion

Posted by Matutay on Nov 23, '08

A lot of times I was asked, "Are you an atheist?". I'm glad for those who bothered to ask and I feel sorry for those who assumed. Yes, I am NOT an atheist but that's not to say that I am some fanatic theist. Conventional religion repulses me and it's ironic since I've spent almost 3/4 of my life on Catholic Schools. I do believe in a Higher Power, on something that binds all living things together. I believe I surpass the standards of Biology----- that I am merely a highly evolved animal. I have instilled in me that I am much more than flesh and blood that will eventually wither. I have mind. I have soul, I have choices and definitely, I'm living more than breathing, a life. When Albert Einstein said, "The more I discover the universe, the more I believe in a Higher Power" I was even more convinced that being intelligent does not mean monopolizing knowledge. It's more like a discovery and realization of what is surreal.

However, having said all that, I refuse to become a member of a certain religion. I don't necessary believe that a bearded image of man is really what He looks like. I believe that the priests and the Catholic Church for that matter should not have a stand on Family Planning. Here's why, first and foremost they have not experienced building their own family [because they can't marry]. Secondly, if they don't even have their own family, what do they know about the hardships of raising one? [And that is not to claim that I do, but come on!] What they do is the same old propaganda that they will not let you take communion if you take the side against the church.

I am even repulsed by the idea that most of these religious institutions are if not exempted, they get the lowest tax expenses, and still, their glorious private Schools kept increasing their tuition fees . Is religion a business? That's how I see it form there. And if religions are to increase your humanity, then why is it that if you're separated, you are not allowed to take communion [there we go with communion again] and that if you're an illegitimate child, you are not exactly welcome to enroll on those conventional religious-based schools.

Anyhow, granted that I respect those who would like to stay and believe in Allah, Yahweh, Jesus Christ or Buddha, I am not going to be told that theirs is the only way to heaven or salvation for that matter. It isn't as if salvation has a franchise. If there is, I might as well book a ticket to heaven so that I can secure a meeting with Saint Peter. I just can't stand people who pray just to win on a lottery, on a game show or on a search for 'miss' and 'mister' whatever. They are outright obtuse to think of God who would be more like a fairy-god-mother. I also can't stand people or religious groups who fronts gatherings as a concert and then the next thing you would know, they'll convince you to have a life coach. What the? A life coach? Yes, such creatures existed. They would actually tell you that you are going on a concert, but they would not tell you what KIND of concert you are going in to. If you refuse to be 'life-coached', they'll assume that you have some kind of a past na pang-MMK or a dysfunctional family. F.Y.I., all families are dysfunctional. It's called 'normal' (I got that from Jessica Zafra..haha). It's like biting on a bait for an Oprah mode. I'd glady do so, if I were in Oprah.. *cynical laugh*..

BOB ONG's MacArthur

BOB ONG's MacArthur {Hindi kaya 'to book review}

Posted by Matutay on Oct 31, '08 11:10 PM for everyone

I tried doing a book review on J.D. Salinger’s ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ but it felt so complicated. I was already done commenting about it like the writing style and all, but I just could not put those observations down on paper. I don’t even know how the hell Bob Ong’s name suddenly sprouted inside my coconut shell.

Anyway, it was barely a year ago when I got to know the story of these four juvenile delinquents namely Cyrus, Jim, Noel and Voltron. I read their every adventure to survive the jungles of drugs, crime, poverty and pollution. I can still remember how I almost finished the book because I wanted to skip some parts. It made want to puke a lot of times because of its content. I’m really hoping that it could be turned into a movie without sugar-coating the sense of realism that it gives us but I guess only an outrageous film maker would be able to pull it off.

It was as if Bob Ong was telling me face to face to close the goddamn book with every scene [especially the bathroom scenes]. The book was mocking me. “GO AHEAD! YOU CANNOT TAKE THIS! READ SOMETHING ELSE!” With that, I was challenged and I survived it. Months later, I finally figured out why it was so grotesque and I finally had an ample idea on what the author wants to tell. Yes, its realism and it’s not as if we don’t hear and read stories about drug addicts and robbers living in slums. It’s realism to the core. A dark core embedded with a very cynical humor. Why do you think I felt like the book was mocking me? Can you tell me? It’s because in reality lies the surreal. The truth behind the truth and the quest in finding more inwardly is Bob Ong’s challenge to us. He wants us to be able to look on the vicious cycle of decay around us that we refuse to look at because we all hide behind the ideal. Our very own privacy is also our very own desolate seclusion from the world. Come on, you cannot deny that we are ideal indeed. We always want to see things beautiful, nice and clean. Yes, on that perspective. But what do we really do to have that? We hide from the reality. We pretend it’s not there because it’s ugly. That ugliness, we must conquer it. But I know it’s hard these days when you have an ipod that muffles the sobs of those starving children around you, when you have so many parties to attend to, when you leave school anytime you please just because you would not mind paying for your tuition, when you ride on your SUV where you cannot even feel your contribution to the daily pollution, when you can shop ‘til you drop because you can afford so and what makes it even harder is because it’s not your life. It’s theirs. Why do you need to care?

Sarcasm aside, the book reveals to us what we are afraid to know and what we are afraid to see. Bob Ong is calling out to us who tends to hide behind society pages and magazines [which by the way, I think promotes low self-esteem] and worrying ourselves if we’re gonna be fashion victims. And that is not to say that it is wrong. Granted that I do some of those things too but I can firmly say that I do not shut my eyes and the rest of my senses to see the more important things around me. We can pry all we want about the lives of the celebrities and the latest fashion trends. We can complain how we cannot live without our cell phones. We must remember that while we worry about such small things, while we hold our heads high wearing our fancy shoes and clothes, there are people like Cyrus, Jim, Noel and Voltron, including all others who die weeping and in need of some serious helping.

Unspoken Lyrics [ a short story]

Unspoken Lyrics (A Short Story)

Posted by Matutay on Oct 24, '08

This is a real SHORT story.. as in short.. Anyway, I don't know what's up with me these days.. My writings has been drifting off to the feminist genre..*sigh*.. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.. Anyway, I hope you would enjoy my new story..

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She looked at the tab that tells her where to pluck her fingers through her guitar. From the numbers written on each line that represents a letter, she has formed a ‘C’. Upon that key, she started shifting her fingers steadily on the first three frets making chord patterns to compose a song. She hummed and hummed but not a single word had escaped her mouth. She tried doing some strums and once in a while, she tried to add some taps. She plucked, strummed and tapped------still, no words found its way to her mind. She was falling on a deaf system having no words to equate each note that her ears listen to as she work her fingers to create a melody. Suddenly, she heard a voice that has always frightened her. Reflexively, she turned her head on who has barged into her room. Ben, looking all drunk, dirty and outright stupid, her husband was a madman----a beast. Oh for Chrissake, she thought. He walked towards her, leaned and touched with the back of his filthy hands the softness of her right cheek. Inside her mind, a piano was playing violently and fast as if the fingers of its player were pounding. Angry, panicky and disturbing. That should have served as a warning. “You want me to teach you a song my little girl?” It would have been an innocent remark but she knew better. His tone was devilish and she thought that the demon has risen all over his reddish face. “I-----I-----you can’t.” She stammered. It was no more less than malice, she thought he was insinuating. “This is what happens when you can’t play a goddamn cello anymore! You’re no more than a violin!!” He raised his hands in the air and started laughing like a mad man. She held on to her guitar even more. Tensed, hoping and scared. Like a violin, his voice echoed on her mind. Right. She was no more than a tiny violin before, easy to hold, easy to lay his face down while he work his hands off and take her anywhere he wants to. The violin was her when she was barely and adult. When he used to touch her every curve and held the bow as he sliced through her strings. From time to time he makes the violin cry. At the end of all the devilish music that he created, she would feel used and spent when he would lock her inside a case and the world would lose its colors and vibrancies as the doom settles in.

“Just when are you gonna be ready without your goddamn blood?” He spit like he was elsewhere and lighted up a cigarette. “I told you, my period is irregular!” Her voice was highly pitched than usual. “This is the only thing that I get from you ever since your whore of a mother left you. She was my whore and I thought that’s what I bought you for?” He smiled dangerously and her heart started drumming on loud beats. Suddenly, she wanted to puke every time he reminds her of how she was sold to a man old enough to be her father. On a slimy flute, she was blown and wet by the spit making her broken and useless as she was swayed through the holes; and it hurts. No matter how she was accustomed to the story of her sale, it stings even more because she’s a muted radio. He then grabbed her arm and tossed her guitar aside. He held her forcefully on her wrist and no, she did not scream. She had been on such situation before. Even on worse and all she did was to scream. But screaming did not save her, not even when it could be heard outside the devils’ den even before the time it was muffled. He was still clutching her wrist and she faced him dignified. She was surprised of what she thought she saw in his eyes for the first time------it was respect, but one blink away, she faced the eyes of the beast again. She thought she heard a gong as his right hand slammed on her cheek. Half of her face was red. She held her breath and fought her tears. No more crying in front of this mad man. She clenched her fists. No more crying. When he was done beating her like a snare, it took her all the strength to gather herself and sit beside the window. She thought she won in that last battle. She was bruised but not broken. Looking at the sky, she searched for a star. There was nothing. Suddenly, the wind blew like some soft music on her direction. Then, heaven cried. It was a perfect combination to hear and feel the symphony of rare peace and serenity. For the first time in her life, she drifted far away with all the words and poetry on her sleep…

Notes on social idealisms

Twilight Series [4 Stars]

Posted by Matutay on Oct 4, '08 9:04

Category:	Books
Genre:	Literature & Fiction
Author:	Stephenie Meyer

At last, I was able to write a review for the whole Twilight series. Well, required kasi eh. Topic kasi namin sa newsletter kay Sir Vidu..haha..=D

Review on the Twilight Series
Maricris Faderugao

The popularity of Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse and the recently released Breaking Dawn has reached critical mass. With the 1.3 million opening day sales for its last installment and a film adaptation to be opened in theaters this November, there is no doubt of Stephenie Meyer’s success as a new writer.

Twilight opens up with a first person point of view from Stephenie’s character, Isabella Swan. Coming from a large city of Phoenix, she moves to her father’s house in a small town in Washington called Forks when her mother got married again. The story rolls and she has risen from a mediocre teenage girl to one of the most popular girls in school who has been dating the gorgeous, aloof and mysterious Edward Cullen who happened to be a vampire. The first question you can raise in Twilight would be, “What happens when the one that you love is also the one that destroys you?” That is basically the argument on the first book and is justified and continued on the pages of its next installment------New Moon. In New Moon, Edward leaves Bella in realizing the danger that he brings to her life. Bella on the other hand still had her life centered on him even though he was gone. However, the damsel in distress will not be left without a companion, Jacob Black. ‘Jake’ as what Bella calls him triggers a new plot, the werewolves. The dilemma sets in for Bella’s character. “What if the one that breaks you is also the one that constructs you and the only way to mend the pieces is to go back?” The complexity goes on as Eclipse opens a new chapter with an ample growth on Bella’s character. On the third installment, Edward sees several changes on Bella’s dependence. Bella, who cannot seem to take a step without Edward was suddenly hanging out alone with the werewolves. In preventing her from doing so, she would find a way to escape just to meet Jacob. Jacob on the other hand ignited a different kind of romance with her. Bella was torn between her feelings for Edward and Jacob. She knew what she should do but she just could not bring herself to do it. She could have just let go of Jacob because she recognizes that it would only bring pain on Edward. However, she did not even force herself to do so and Stephenie tries to justify it. The author brings a new argument. “Why would she dismiss the one who had been there to save her from her greatest downfall? Who was she to disregard the feelings she has for the one who stayed when the center stage of her life was absent?” However before the third installment ends, Bella has made a choice with the words, “I know what I can live without”. The last book, Breaking Dawn continues the saga with that choice. She decides to be a vampire, Edward marries her and the impossible of the plausible happens. Before she even turns into a vampire, she becomes pregnant with Renesmee. The lovable half-mortal served as the uniting link to what was so-wrong-but-so-right between Jacob and Bella in Eclipse. The Volturi sets in with a big come back from their ample appearance from New Moon. Their authority is challenged and talented covens collide. Secrets were revealed and a new series of hybrid vampires were discovered. Among the four books, Breaking Dawn could be a stand alone.

Stephenie Meyer’s writing ability is vivid. The imagery of her writing is concise and it does appeal to our human emotions. The characters seem to leap off the pages. She seems to know how to put her readers on the same shoe with her characters. Edward and Bella seem surreal and that is by what most standards would say-----an effective writing. However there are still pros and cons to every book and I shall have those listed.

The Bad: Story wise, Bella, Jacob and Edward’s relationship could get far too ideal and it is actually scary that maybe most girls might not want to be just Bella but they would want to be just like her at the same situations where she was inside the book. Though, it could be argued that Twilight is indeed FICTION, one could not disregard the powerful effects of literature and therefore the readers must be wise enough not to be jailed inside the ideals of a book. The attachment of Bella’s character to Edward is unhealthy; solid proof would be the pages of New Moon where she endangers herself just to hear Edward’s voice. It is alarming that some impressionable young girls look at it as their holy bible.

The Good: First and foremost, Twilight is both sweet and hunting love story. It takes us to the lighter side of romantic love-----getting to know each other and falling in love. However it also takes us on the other side, the love that is washed vehemently by the ideal social stigma. The kind of love that is beyond reason, the kind that makes someone feel “It’s so wrong but it feels so right.” Seeing both faces of the coin makes it good for us because that way, we are not blindsided. It makes us grow as a reader.

The Verdict: Twilight is addictive and is a good stepping stone to bring back to life the literary awareness of today’s generation. I have come to know some friends of mine who were not really fond of reading books but are now gaining interest on it after they have read the Twilight series. Reading for the most part is one of the best ways to exercise our minds and learn the vast effects of written communication.

Notes on social idealisms

Notes on social idealisms..

Posted by Matutay on Oct 20, '08

While I have a lot of nothingness to do, I might just defile a blank page with these thoughts in my head. Inside it, I swear, my imaginations knows no boundaries. It's an endless universe where my freedom is absolute. Of course it's not the 'freedom' political crap that everybody has been talking about. It is only in our mind that we are indeed, FREE.

See, I don't even know why I'm using a foreign language here. Do I really have to use my native language (which seems more stranger to me when I write)[thanks to westernized education..err]) just to proclaim myself as a goddamn patriot? I hope not, because I'm not. I guess I'd write to which language I know as long as I am comfortable. Maybe I was just theorizing all along. Patriotism is one hell of a fad. I think it's achievable though, but I guess one will have to build himself a new definition. Well, maybe I'll have to make some definitions on my own before I can confirm myself into one. The fever of words could really penetrate our skin. It could burn us deeper to what we could ever show enough. So I guess, I'll have to peruse my own scripts to rebut myself once in a while. The deeper I get, the more I discover. The more I discover is how I learn. Independence, freedom----two of the equatable ideals we have been striving for. Do you sometimes wonder why throughout the years we get no hold of those? It's because we are reaching for nothing [at least on my opinion]. Take note: One could not claim nothing. 'Freedom' [the one that idealists always talks about] is not actually free. It comes with trainloads of responsibilities. What you buy out of that 'freedom' [I'd rather say it's choice] will be paid by one and only YOU. No currencies of course, just consequences.

'Independence' (on the whore sense of what teenagers want to be) NOTE: I'm separating this 'independence' politically. If I am free from all the people in the world, if I can stand on my feet alone, if I don't need anybody to hold on to, would that make INDEPENDENT? No, because that's never gonna happen and that's precisely why it would stay as an 'if' for a lifetime. It's simple. You can live alone and pay all the bills, but where do you get the payment? Where do you rely on for those? And you don't really need anybody? Then who's the one paying you? Don't you need them? Aren't you a slave of your own desires just like the rest of us? You can never deny that. Desire is desire. It never ceases because the moment it does, it ceases to be a desire. Another answer why 'independence' on the whore sense of teenage definition is just a fantasy is because NO MAN IS AN ISLAND. Yeah it's cliche. It's cliche because it is true.

As a person, I think that I am a body of ocean and that the island is my life. I go around living it. Living that it does exist. But there is always a turbulence that my atmosphere creates. That turbulence is fueled by desires that is carried by my current. Therefore I say, to desire those ideals that I have stated above is not wrong though fairly debatable (everything seems debatable anyway). I repeat, it is not wrong. It is just up to us to make sure that we don't drown ourselves on our own pool of ideals that we are making. I always keep in mind that there is still a sun whose heat has the capacity to suck up an entire ocean or either give a new life after the sky precipitates.

A New Day Worth Living: Matutay [a short story]

A New Day Worth Living

Posted by Matutay on Aug 31, '08 9:52

The dawn is breaking. She’s breathing a new day for a new life. She stood barefooted behind the window where she’s staring at the sunrise absorbing every color that formed illuminating the sky. The wind contoured her face like the velvety hands she longed to feel. She stood in silence for a while. Only her sobs were to hear if you were on the same room with her. Her fists were clenched as the tears slowly traced down to her cheeks----- and the eyes that wore the weak pretensions before, are now crying and stronger than ever.

She moved in silence to fix her bed. A new day has come. A new day to live the life she chose not only for herself. It is only when she’s alone that the masquerade stops. The faint smiles and doubtful people eying her were gone. The endless dances to meet new acquaintances were not present. She needs no make up. She needs no beautiful dress. She feels secure to herself. She’s at home. Though not literally alone, no one can touch her. In her place right now, no one knows her so no one can judge her. But there’s no one to watch and comfort her either.

The sun is now finally up and it gave her warmth for her dose of real awakening. She no longer shivered. She went back to take on a slice of white cheese and read the newspaper. As she sips from her coffee, she suddenly she felt bored and nostalgic. The borrowed life she knew she had is taking its toll on her. She felt hollow inside but she let it penetrate her. That way she believes, it would be easier for her to detach herself from the pains she acknowledged. She flipped the pages of her diary---but no, she did not write. She just read some of her previous entries that reminded her why she’s there…

On a small municipal in a country side, she finally said her vows. The traverse of finding someone meant for her was finally over and it was an overwhelming moment that she got married after all. The celebration ended on twilight and everything was kept simple from the guests up to every detail of the event. She fell on her husband’s arms with complete surrender and she never thought she could feel protected like she’s a queen with thousands of guards to save her. The months have passed and their dream house up on the hills was almost finished. The bungalow resembled exactly the way her husband had designed it years ago—he said he had envisioned it the moment he saw her. He kissed her tenderly every morning with promises of a bright tomorrow--- growing old and staying strong together. The next day, Ben met a tragic accident when a bullet landed on his chest originally intended for his client. His candle has suddenly lost its flicker.

The light and the darkness fought for a place in the sky as the surrounding lost its colors and the clock stopped ticking when she found out about what happened. She lived on stillness for months until she felt sick and realized that Ben did not leave her alone… From that day on, she knew she had a life to live, a life to push through, a life to breathe and a love to share.

She closed her diary and let the feeling of missing someone penetrate her. However, she did not felt alone and she thought she never would be as she puts her palm over her stomach and sang a lullaby to her little Ben..