My Favourite Disney Songs

These four songs are my MOST favourite Disney songs. They are totally underrated and overshadowed by Elsa and Belle. These four have some common themes: breaking out from a place that holds you back, finding your place in the world/universe, and knowing who you are.

I’ve been awarded a position as a research fellow at my university. I’ve been invited to present my paper at a conference. I’m currently under the tutelage of brilliant professors. I could make a living here and live out the rest of my life, but there’s something missing.

My mother told me, “There’s nothing here (the Philippines) for us. We have no family. We have to find something else.” I agree with her. I am interconnected to so many people and things here, but there is so little that makes me truly happy. The only thing that makes my stay here worthwhile are my friends.

These songs keep me hopeful that I can one day leave and find that happiness that I can’t find here. You keep me strong, Disney.

Favourite part:
And I want a moment to be real,
Wanna touch things I don’t feel,
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.
And how can they say I never change?
They’re the ones that stay the same.
I’m the one now,
‘Cause I’m still here.

Favourite part:
I will find my way
I can go the distance
I’ll be there someday
If I can be strong
I know every mile
Will be worth my while
I would go most anywhere
To feel like I belong

Favourite part:
And out there
Living in the sun
Give me one day out there
All I ask is one
To hold forever

Favourite part:
I could go running
And racing
And dancing
And chasing
And leaping
And bounding
Hair flying
Heart pounding
And splashing
And reeling
And finally feeling
Now’s when my life begins!

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Unfair Expectations from a Non-Filipino Cultured Person (updated)

Where do I begin? Each time a person asks me, “Tell me a little bit about yourself.” I’m always quick to reply with, “I was born in the Philippines, but I grew up in England.” And I say it with a smile. I smile because of my memories of Cobham, Surrey were probably one of the best years I’ve had growing up. I smile because I have to mask the pain I experienced growing up in the Philippines.

I’ve probably written so many England-Philippine comparisons on this blog. I won’t put you (or myself) through that. Let’s just start with memories of the past, no comparisons. I’ll leave that up to you.

Cobham, Surrey was something out of a fairytale. It had a village not far from the town centre with a stream and a watermill in between them. The stream was clear and cold and sometimes had fish and ducks. The school nearby was an international school. Children from different parts of the world learned under one roof. The differences in culture were normal. The differences in skin colour were negligible. We all knew we were different, but we didn’t care.

Cubao, Metro Manila was something out of a nightmare. The houses were clustered together like shoeboxes. The city centre was far, and to get there you needed to brace yourself with the pollution. There were no streams, only sewers, and canals infested with bacteria germinating from lumps of human faeces and sometimes rat carcass. The school was not an international school. The children were from one single culture, and I had to learn with them. They were all the same: same skin, same eyes, same religion, same mind. They all knew I was different, and that mattered much to them.

That’s just a gist of my past. However, I do want to say that university changed my perception of the Filipino people. I used to detest and loathe them. I hated the culture, every bit of it. University changed that. I respect the Filipino people, and I understand that there are assholes everywhere in the world and not just in the Philippines. If my 9yro-self knew that, he would have turned into a happier person.

***

There’s a friend a classmate of mine who is the anthesis of me. She’s half-blood (half Japanese), she was offered to live in Japan, and she loves the Philippines. Culturally and in belief, she is more Filipino than I am. What I don’t understand is why she thinks negatively of me when I’m sceptical about this country (sceptical, not negative, different thing). She thinks I’m pessimistic, but that’s what idealists say. She’s an idealist, not an optimist because she too is a sceptic, but just in a different way.

I’ve told her, in length, my memories. Yet she still doesn’t understand why I can’t find that affective connection to the Philippines. She told me to just accept the Philippines because I am a Filipino. This is the unfair expectation.

Here’s analogy part 1: my parents created me. They created my mind, body, beliefs etc. I am nothing without them. My parents are also Christian. And with my friend’s classmate’s logic, I should be Christian and discard my belief in Buddhism because I from my parents.

Part 2: The Philippines created me. It created my mind, body, beliefs etc. I am nothing without the Philippines. Does this mean that I should love the Philippines with all my bleeding heart? No, of course not. That’s an unfair expectation. It’s unfair to be expected to love something because it is, literally, in my blood, raised me, or created me.

Hokkaido part 2

The early morning light brushed against the snow-capped roofs of the small village that hid at the bottom of the mountains. The sound of the temple bell stilled the air as if a spell had stopped time. The windows were frosted like a spider’s etching against the clear sky. Little huts breathed through their chimneys. The smell of wood and food slowly danced across the crisp wind, which blew lightly between the wooden walls. Like clockwork, old men opened their doors with pipes pressed between their lips. They greeted each other with light bows. The children scampered off to school at the other side of the village. The children believed that they could escape the spirit that commanded the cold if they ran fast enough. And almost certainly, one of them would trip and fall on the fresh snow, reminding them that they could never escape.

*** Continue reading

Numbers

I watched a BuzzFeed video about four people TRYING to do long division, and wow are they dumb. Well, three of them were anyway. One them even said that she didn’t have to do division since middle school? Which is strange since there is division in algebra.

Anyway, then a thought popped in, “Why don’t they practice multiplication like I do? Holy shit.” A fucking realisation happened.

Ever since I first learned multiplication, I’ve been subconsciously practising it. Just to give you an idea I would sometimes multiply numbers while listening to classical music (how stereotypically Asian) or while cooking.

When I do something that’s second nature I do multiplication to keep myself awake or aware that I’m doing something.

It’s so weird finding something out about myself after doing it for 17 years.

NUJABES

The world lost a great artist five years ago but we will never forget what his music has done for us, for me. He’s has gotten me through a lot of tough shit in the past, an injection to stream which calmed the beast that riles within. I love you and your music. It reminds me that I am capable of love. Happy death anniversary.

Gotta finish what we started, so I cut this tape
As our records will stay on rotate

Touched by Religion

I meant to write about this priest I saw about a week ago (ABOUT A AGOOO!) and with him someone interesting. Her snow powder skin and ivory smile caught me, and I wanted to catch her like a firefly in a bottle. What drew me to her more was her uniform. You may think it’s strange that I comment on this but it’s because I once studied in her school so I know the uniforms well. The conservative deep-sea skirt had transformed into a pencil skirt that ended three inches above her knees, which rode up her legs each time she took a longer stride. The sailor top that was meant to be loose was now skin-tight showing her developing breasts. The sleeves were shortened baring her arms even more. She was not a Filipino. She wasn’t even Asian. This Caucasian girl with her hazelnut bob cut and blue eyes was a toy for this fat white priest. They got in a cab and as they were about to depart, the priest’s hand slid up her 12-year-old inner-thigh.

A Vision of a Cleaner Future

I’ve had this idea of how the human race could cut its dependency on oil. It all started with a man named Elon Musk and his company, Tesla. Electricity is the future. It ain’t nuclear, and it’s definitely not shale. The only problem I have with Tesla is its battery. It takes too long to charge, and it has a limited lifespan of five years. Although the lifespan may not be such a big thing since it could be recycled to an extent. Of course there are some people, like TIME, that think that an eco-friendly battery isn’t enough. This is where my idea (that combines other ideas and is technically not even a new idea) comes in.

Have you heard of solar freakin’ roadways? Well now’s your chance:

Solar roadways would be the first big step into a cleaner future. This will drastically cut our dependence on fossil fuel or any form of consumable energy (not to be confused with the laws of conservation). For those that didn’t watch the video, solar roadways replace your run-of-the-mill asphalt roads which do nothing with smarter roads. Theoretically, it can boost the economy with the jobs it generates needed to construct these roads. It can potentially give a state an excess of power if all the roads were replaced. Imagine, a city with an excess of clean power.

Last year, a company called WiTricity came into the limelight. They’ve invented a safe way to transfer electricity from one device to another.

If WiTricty, Solar Roadways, and electric car manufacturers team up, we could see the largest scale bumper cars in the world. Cars could charge and source their energy from the roads leaving charging for long-distance travelling almost obsolete. Hopefully I’ll be alive when I see this happen.

Ugh.

So. A couple of days ago, I promised to publish this entry about this relationship I have with this girl (whom I insanely like by the way), rediscovery of self-love, and Buddhism. BUT I CAN’T! Why? I’m waiting for my professor in International Organisations to give the grades out. He said that he would release it yesterday, then postponed it this morning, then moved it to tonight. Still, nothing. So until I know how badly I’ve done, I won’t be able write with a relaxed mind.