Okay, I admit it.

I am JEALOUS.

Seems Like “Oh My Word” Isn’t ‘My Word’ Anymore

That’s just wonderful, Mister Supreme Court of Midnight Chief Justice Renato Corona. You have now taken away every single Filipino’s intellectual property rights. Yes, that is correct. You have taken it away and thrown it over to the trash bin.

Last October 15, 2010 a new “right” was added to us Filipinos, as promulgated by our ever brilliant Supreme Court. We, Filipinos, are now licensed to plagiarize. PLAGIARIZE.

Now, because I am no good at technical explanations, here is a link to that article which proves it all that we have no regard for personality or originality. Read it and weep, my fellowmen, because now, all our blogs, songs, and ANYTHING that we create can now be copied by some other Noypi. Even more, we can now lift entire paragraphs (or even pages) from other documents without fear of being charged of plagiarism- that is, as long as the accuser cannot prove ‘malicious intent’.

Right.

Could anybody at all, please, tell me where this man threw his sanity away? I guess he was thinking “oh well, since the Filipinos aren’t all that good at being original anyway, why don’t we just make cheating and mooching off of other people’s intellectual property rights legal just for us?” Well, swell move, sir- and to all those who voted for this supposed “right”. You’re making a wave of change.

Well, I guess we have a few good things going for us, huh? I mean, we college students can just go and plagiarize all our papers now, and we wont have to think anymore, or remember how to annotate and state our sources. In short, we can pretty much cheat our way through to college. The same goes for all of you high school students, and you as well, my dear elementary pupils! Let’s go celebrate with a few rounds of beer, shall we?

Yes, my friends. We, Filipinos, no longer have to remember who spoke the words “Veni Vidi Vici” or lines like “but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep”. We have gone past that and have realized that all ideas are communal things and must be shared by everyone. We have realized that because all ideas are communal, we no longer have to acknowledge the people who actually made their brain cells sweat just to think of something new to offer the world.

I cannot begin to describe how much my heart has been broken.

P.S.

By the way, Veni Vidi Vici was one of Julius Ceasar’s famous lines, which actually means “I came, I saw, I conquered”. No, darlings. It’s not just that thing plastered on the emblem of Philip Morris USA Industries. Oh, and the latter line was written by Robert Frost, in his poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”. Check the last few lines. It’s there.

Falling In Love With The Hero That Should’nt Have Died That Early

I was reading a book by Virgilio Almario entitled Ang Panitikan ng Rebolusyon(g 1896) just the other day, and as I stared the first chapter, I yawned a bit, thinking it was going to be another history lesson. “Ang Mga Dapat Malaman ng Mga Anak Ng Katipunan” it said, and it didn’t attract me at all.

I borrowed the book out of spontaneous decision, amused by it’s cover page that had a part of a wonderful oil on canvas painting called “El Fuego” made by a filipino artist.

Despite my disinterest, I read on.

I found myself shaking my head in absolute disbelief to my being too judgmental. It was a wonderful first chapter. It spoke of our unsung heroes and of our underestimated patriots. One of which was our dear Tito Boni.

How do we view Andres Bonifacio in the first place? Bonifacio, as I recalled, had always been my idol, and I had long preferred him over Jose Rizal, the proclaimed National Hero and “First Filipino”. There was always something much more appealing and mysterious about the “Ama ng Himagsikan” (Father of the Revolution) that made me prefer him over Lolo Rizal. Potrayed always with fiery, burning eyes towards the enemy, bolo in hand, and waving the bright red flag of the Kataas-taasang, Kagalang-galangang Katipunan ng Mga Anak ng Bayan (KKK) in the other, Bonifacio was the symbol for brute tactics during my elementary and high school years. I had always thought he was a ruthless man, eager to slit the throats of every swindling Spanish Man he could find on the battlefield.

A Monument for the Katipunan, with Bonifacio standing strong in the middle, and Jacinto standing guard behind him

Man, was I dead wrong.

Bonifacio, though also valiant in the battlefield, was a man of intellect and tactics, accompanied by his comrade Emilio Jacinto, the man called as “Ang Utak ng Katipunan” or The Brains of the Katipunan. This is what we know.

Tell me, how much do you know of Bonifacio, as a writer, as a man, as himself? Do we know how he took to heart the insult of that man who claimed him to be “incapable” of leading the Katipunan because he had no proper educational achievement as compared to our so called “Honorable” General Emilio Aguinaldo? How he lunged for that man, almost grabbing him and beating him, his rage consuming him all over?

Tama nga naman. Ikaw na ang tumatag, ikaw pa ang iinsultuhin at i-de-demote. Bah. Hindi naman yata tama yan.

Now, a few days after reading that first chapter (I read the other chapters, too, mind you), I got into a conversation with a pair of my friends that had always joined me in studying about the Philippine Society and its years of struggle and revolution. It was a random bit, having been summoned by one of my friends asking us a favor to critique his speech that he had to give for his class. His speech spoke of his eyes opening to what the Philippine society really had been under, as he had been given petty dates and names to memorize and unnecessary events to putter around in. This then lead to my other friend’s suggestion of including the 1896 revolution.

Then in comes our little discussion about Tito Boni.

Bonifacio was a visionary, and truly a man with passion for the country. His initiative led him to spring into action and create the organization which led to strings of events that would be remembered centuries after his death. His plans for the revolutionary were key to the people’s uprising, and they led the nationwide effort to push shoo the Spaniards away.

Yet, Bonifacio is but a man, and all of humankind has been known to make mistakes.

Bonifacio’s plans were based on the French Revolution, but- though it is brilliant for one to use a framework for a plan that one wants to execute- he failed to realize that the conditions in France were very different from the conditions of his Motherland. France, at the time, was an industrialized country, and the revolution was designed for situations as such. Bonifacio did not see this- or rather, neglected this. The Philippines was far from industrialization during the Spanish rule. There were no big machinery, no big factories and other such things like in other western countries. All we had here in the Philippines at the time were stretches and stretches of lands. Mostly farmlands and beaches. For this, Bonifacio is judged, even today.

Then again, you know, what could our dear patriot have based his revolution on at the time? There had not been too many before his. More than anything, it was hard to stage a large-scale revolution, considering the geological structure of the country. The Philippines is an archipelago. Not a singular gigantic island. Communication must have been difficult back in the day, and without this key ingredient, teamwork is a no-go.

Even more frustrating, Bonifacio died in the hands of his executioners which were ironically the people he was fighting for. Yes, his fellow Filipinos shot him and did not even bother to dig his grave.

Here’s the story:

There was a growing faction at the time in the Katipunan: The Magdiwang and The Magdalo factions. The former was lead by Andres Bonifacio and the latter by Emilio Aguinaldo. Upon the discovery of the organization, more than a thousand of Bonifacio’s allies assembled with him at Pugad Lawin, Caloocan to tear their cedulas. This signified their breaking off with Spain and had them running from Spanish authorities, winning a few battles and losing severe ones. Eventually, the Magdalo faction would call upon Bonifacio for a truce in Cavite, if only to settle differences and finally work together.

The Tejeros Convention was held, and the first presidential and vice presidential elections in the country occurred (even though the original purpose of the convention was to find a way to protect Cavite). Emilio Aguinaldo was voted as the new Supremo of the Katipunan, while Bonifacio was elected as Secretary/ Director of the Interior. Even more, Daniel Tirona (a Magdalo) argued, saying that Bonifacio is too uneducated to have that position. Clearly insulted, Bonifacio ragingly declares the convention as void, holding on to his title as the Supreme leader of the Katipunan.

So after that horrible congress, Bonifacio packs up his stuff and moves to Naic with his family, where he forms his own government and army. Aguinaldo, having been absent at the convention due to his leading a battle at the time, goes to take his oath of office with the others who have been elected. During this time, Bonifacio, with his remaining allies of about 45, create a new document indicating their reasons for not accepting the results of the first Tejeros Convention. They claimed that the Magdalo faction had rigged the election. They stated a reassertion of Bonifacio as head of the Katipunan. As soon as Aguinaldo finds out about their claims, he sends a delegation to Bonifacio and his men to accept the new government. Bonifacio declines and leaves.

The troops of the Spanish General Camilo de Polavia had been advancing all the while, threatening to capture Cavite. This made Aguinaldo call on for two of his soldiers to leave Bonifacio and settle back into their positions. After this, Bonifacio leaves with his family and heads for Indang, and upon his return to Montalban, he meets the men that Aguinaldo has sent to arrest him. Valiant as he is, he resists arrest,gets wounded, and is later on captured to face trial. Charged with an accusation of “acts inimical to the existence of the new government”, he was sentenced to death by a military tribunal, up in the mountains of Maragondon, Cavite on the 10th of May 1897.

Power struggles are such a sticky thing, and Bonifacio’s way was such a sad way to die.

True, he had only reached an elementary education, but the KKK would not have even been formed without him. There would not have been an effort to trump the Spaniards and kick their sorry butts back to where they came from.

Sometimes, I wonder how the revolution would have gone down, if the factions had not formed and the revolts pursued.

Power struggles. That’s what derailed the country’s greatest revolutionary.

YES! In your face.

Yeah, you can take all that paper and shove it into your face, man! I did it! I passed my Literature 131 class in blooming flying colors!

Ehem.

It’s great, you know. It’s such a wonderful feeling to pass something you never even knew you could, let alone get such a good grade as a 1.5 which is just two notches lower than a perfect 1.0 (the grading system goes 1.0, 1.25, 1.75, 2.0, and so on. 1.0 is the highest grade. Lowest possible grade is 5.0). It feels even better when you know you had classmates that looked down on you- that even scorned you- because they felt that you didn’t belong in that class. I mean, fine, I admit, I’m not a literature major (I’m a computer science major, for pete’s sake). I don’t hang out with you guys. I even HATE one of the guys in your little group because he kind of screwed up my activist life last year, but well, you know. I guess I can hack it. I can write reports and essays just as good as you guys. I mean, you guys made me feel bad for about 3/4ths of the entire semester because you kept back biting me and all that shit, but hey, man, I’m glad this is done. I’m glad it’s just all over.

Well, anyway, this doesn’t mean that my wordpress.com blog is shutting down, now that I don’t need to post a few papers every now and then. I think I’ll go on and continue what I’ve started. It’s turning out to be such a cute blog, don’t you think?

I feel revved up. Inspired. Innovative.

I will do better.

I will write!

Stick A Fork In My Heart; It’s Done.

Dilemmas, dilemmas…

It’s frustrating, the way some people think that you like them back, just because they like you. Even worse when you really dont. Even more if you like someone else.

It’s even MORE horrible thinking about this while typing in a net cafe with a bunch of uncivilized asses screaming at each other’s faces over a wonderful game of DOTA. Goodness, guys. I’m trying to create a blog, here? Please, shut up-o?

Anyway, back to business.

I don’t understand what in the world I plan to do to this guy, who I believe wants to go out with me. I don’t like him that way.

It would be mean of me to tell him straight up that I dont like him. That would be insensitive, but how else do I tell him and get him to stop texting me?

Dilemmas, dilemmas…

I don’t want to go back to Iloilo anymore.

Deals With The Devil

Perhaps the most notorious and the most classical character to ever grace the pages of literature, The Devil is one persona long been explored and depicted. He has come in many shapes and sizes, sometimes as an old man, and sometimes as a big, fearful creature, laughing at the helpless souls of the underworld, his eyes flickering with Hell’s never ending flames. Even more often, he comes in the form of a trickster.

It’s a ludicrous thought, trying to cheat the devil and outsmart him. He’s probably been around for as long has time has started ticking, and he must know how the entire world works, even before we can understand it- and yet, when he strikes a bargain and offers his services, we are all too tempted to seal that deal. He courts you at first, tries to bait you with his rewards- and just a single bite is enough for him to pull the line and lure you in.

Are we really that arrogant, to think that we can win over the Devil?

Two interesting stories that talk of the Devil’s adventures are Washington Irving’s The Devil and Tom Walker and Paolo Coelho’s The Devil and Miss Prym- a more contemporary tale.

In Washington Irving’s tale, we find the devil to be a tall man, who was neither of Indian or Negro race, wearing an Indian garb and his face was dirtied with soot, as if he had been used to being around much burning furnaces and fires. He is called by the name “Old Scratch”, and in the story, he is seen with an axe, chopping down trees with names of some uptown rich Bostonian in Tom Walker’s area.

This image of the Devil seems like the “wise old man” type, wandering eloquently around “his land”. The trees on his land symbolize souls –ones of which had probably even been sold to him already- and he casually cuts them down, saying that he will have a good supply of firewood for the coming days. Of course, Old Scratch is a brilliant swindler, luring Tom with Kidd the Pirate’s treasure as a reward to doing his dirty deeds. The Devil wins even before Tom realizes. It would not be much of a bother for the Devil to lose a few pounds of gold. He is the Devil after all, and he can have as much money as he would wish, probably with just a simple snap of his soot-ridden fingers. Even more, he is able to play with the townspeople through Tom Walker as Tom conducts the broker’s shop that the Devil commands him to do in exchange for the treasure.

It is only at the end that Old Scratch returns to the story, as he comes to take away Tom Walker on a black horse. They gallop away like mad men, past the road and the hills toward the old Indian fort where they had made their first encounter.

Again, we see a very classic way of how a soul is taken away: mostly on a horse or a carriage, quickly, with a mysterious horseman dressed in odd clothes. If we remember Emily Dickinson’s poem Because I Could Not Stop for Death, we find it there that the narrator is taken away in the gentlest manner by Death himself. They ride away in a carriage and off into the night. There is always that element of “traveling towards the end” as in Dickinson’s last lines:

Since then ’tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity

Symbolic of the travel to the afterlife, Tom Walker’s ride to Hell was one of many others like it, and the story, according to most, was originally meant to be a morality fable. It is an amusing one, using the image of an avaricious cheater to portray heavy sinners, as is implied by the last lines of the story: “Let all gripping money-brokers lay this story to heart. The truth of it is not to be doubted.”

In contrast to Washington Irving’s image of the Devil, Paolo Coelho’s depiction of the Devil is one of a more human persona. He comes as a stranger, into the grey, misty town of Viscos. He is a mysterious man, with his own story to tell. He goes into a bar, first seen by the town’s local “witch” Berta, and speaks to a certain barmaid named Chantal Prym. He tells the beautiful Miss Prym of his plan, where he comes to offer the townspeople enough gold to improve their lives for generations, but the twist here lies in the stranger’s exchange: the villagers must murder one of their own.

In The Devil and Miss Prym, we see here a very interesting conflict in between good and evil, which was also subtly implied in Irving’s work. Although the two protagonist characters of the two short stories are very much different in character, we see that in The Devil and Tom Walker, we find that he is also a man of decency, refusing to enter into a slave trading business, as was Old Scratch’s first offer to him. It is simply his greed that takes him over and makes him agree to the Devil’s deal. Also, we see how Tome attempts to cheat his way out of the Devil’s deal, as he becomes violently religious catholic. In The Devil and Miss Prym, Chantal Prym is not exactly little miss angel herself. She is faced with a dilemma of whether or not to tell the villagers of the stranger’s deal. Knowledgeable of the gold’s whereabouts, she finds an eerie temptation to dig the gold up and flee the village.

Take note on how the two protagonists react when faced with the Devil. Temptation whispers in their ears and makes them deviate from who they are. Desperation calls. It is a struggle between the good and evil in ones’ self at that one point in their life. It is almost like coming to a crossroads. You stop in the middle and turn your head to all the directions. Nothing but roads stretching toward the horizon catches your eyes. Which way will you go?

I’d like to think that these romanticized versions of the Devil are even more influential to the character’s choices. If the Devil were to come at these people, with horns and a long slithery tail, skin red as fire and teeth glinting yellow in the light, a normal person would take one look at it and make a run for it, probably not even taking time to look back to check if the creature would be behind him. However, these manifestations of the Devil are much more alluring, and much more tempting. The Devil strikes with an air of authority and a hint of years of wisdom. It’s much more like a trap ingeniously devised to reel his victims in. I think that this is quite clever to have depicted the Devil in this way. It creates an air of anonymity to the Devil, and shows that we always have a choice when it comes to committing mistakes. We can choose to strike that bargain or simply shake our heads and walk away. Even more, it shoves it right up our faces that we should not blame external forces for our misgivings. The Devil does not come to posses your hands and minds into doing his deeds. He simply comes to play.

Fables and Folk Tales: The East and The West in Retrospect

I. Introduction
Fables, as defined by www.about.com, is “a short allegorical narrative making a moral point, traditionally by means of animal characters that speak and act like human beings”. They have long been read and taught to us, passed down by either reading or by oral teaching, and have been a staple for every child’s upbringing. Fables serve as a warning or caution, for us to think of our actions first before jumping to conclusions. They take us away from the real world, and into a fantasy landscape where animals talk and pigs walk on hind feet.
Each culture has its own stories, with their own versions of what a fable is. Some cultures may have their original ones, and some may have adapted. They often depict a certain culture’s social workings, and most especially the most common important values.
For this paper, I would like to compare Western Fables with Asian or Eastern Fables, with George Orwell’s Animal Farm as main focus. I would like to look into what sort of fables the westerners write, and what kind of fables the Asians write. Is there a difference due to culture? What values do the westerners and the Asians prefer to hide and display?
II. The Animal Farm and Other Western Fables
Animal farm, as defined, is a sort of fable and an allegory at the same time- and also as a fairy tale for adults. Naturally satirical, it uses animal characters to depict specific characters and was made as an anti-totalitarian and anti-Stalin propaganda by Orwell. Despite the specificity of Orwell’s character depiction, Animal Farm may also be regarded as a commentary to all totalitarian governments, warning people of the dangers of it.
Indeed, Animal Farm may be very political in nature, but it fits the parameters defined for a fable. It tackles certain issues like corruption, apathy and dictatorship. These themes may be too mature for younger audiences, but Orwell has written the novel in such a manner that it is easy to accept these themes without much difficulty. He manipulates language and is able to sustain the reader’s interest, even after ten chapters.
Also, if one were to compare, Animal Farm is not the first fable to tackle the topic of tyranny.
Remember the fable of The Wolf and The Lamb?
The Wolf had met a Lamb one day who strayed from his herd. The Wolf was hungry but did not wish to use violent means. He wanted to find a justifiable means to explain to the Lamb his right to eat him. The Wolf reasons: “Lamb, I remember a year back, you greatly insulted me. Therefore I have the right to eat you”. Then, the Lamb bleats “No sir. I had not been born yet a year ago”. Then said the Wolf: “you feed on my fields and my pasture!” The Lamb replies: “Not true, good sir. I have not yet tasted grass.” Vexed, the Wolf tries to reason and says: “Then you drink of my water.” Shaking its head, the Lamb bleats louder, “No, not I. I have not drunk of your water. It is my mother’s milk that makes up my food and drink”. With this, the Wolf seized the young lamb in his arms and devoured him. Then, with a smirk he says, “I will not tolerate my hunger, despite your constant pleas that defy my words”.
This fable talks of tyranny or selfish governments, of how they unlawfully tax their citizens and find ways to penalize them and raise their taxes for their own benefit. In the end, no matter how the citizens (like the lamb) will reason and complain, they will be devoured by the system, because the power lies in the tyrant’s (Wolf’s) hands.
Similar to this, Animal Farm has two tyrannical characters. The first is Mr. Jones, described as a drunken man who is horrible at running his farm. He overworks the animals and abuses them, finding ways to gain benefit from them, which is similar to how the Wolf tries to find ways to get the lamb. The second figure is Napoleon, who later on runs the farm long after Mr. Jones is exiled by the animals. Napoleon is the solitary Berkshire boar on the farm that rises to power as the events of Orwell’s novel unfold. He and his band of pigs find ways to exploit the animals, making them work harder and harder still to finish the windmill that, as Napoleon claims, was his original idea. Then, he hoards the milk and apples on the farm and lets himself and the other pigs engage in a luxurious life as they take over Mr. Jones’ farmhouse. Here, they start to sleep in beds, eat human food, wear their clothes, and even Napoleon takes to smoking Mr. Jones’ pipe.
Here we see the manipulation of characters. How do the westerners see certain animals? The Wolf, as betrayed in the fable, was a sly sort of character, trying to find reason in all the wrong places. Napoleon, in Orwell’s novel, is a pig that takes over the farm after he expels one of his rivals for leadership supremacy on the farm. He awards special privileges to the other pigs and most especially to himself, but secludes himself from the public and indulges in hoarding the other animal’s profits. Thus we may conclude the symbolism that the westerners connote to certain animals: The wolf as sly, wise, but exploitative, and the pigs that make themselves high and mighty and are tactically corrupt due to power and privilege.
A few other characters to look at in Animal Farm are Moses (the raven), Boxer (the horse), Mollie (the white mare), and Snowball (a young pig).
Moses is a tame raven that the other animals believe to be Mr. Jones’ “especial pet”. He is described to be a gossip and is the only one not present during the first meeting the animals had, as headed by Old Major (is a senior white boar that urges the animals to “toil for freedom’s sake). He often talks of a heaven for animals called “Sugar Candy Mountain” and distracts the animals from working for the revolution.
Moses actually represents organized religions. His actions and stories of Sugar Candy Mountain tell of how the animals must remain obedient to Mr. Jones if they wish to reach the said haven. Because of this, the animals sometimes have second thoughts whether or not to follow the pigs into their plans of revolution. This is reflexive of Karl Marx’s statement: “religion is the opiate of the masses”.
An even more in depth of Moses’ character is why Orwell chose a bird to symbolize religion. Time and time again, we have seen birds to be related to ideas like freedom, peace and religion. Birds have been thought to be a sort of spiritual link to the heavens and are symbolic for man’s detachment from the material body and a flight to ‘the other side’. However, ravens have a lesser prettier image compared to their religiously associated cousins, the doves. Ravens have been known to connote evil omens, death, and even the Devil. This is amusing, considering Moses’ characterization.
Now that we have tackled about birds (specifically ravens), how do the westerners see horses in general?
The horse is actually a symbol of valour and willingness to fight and act for one’s country. This is clearly enacted in Boxer. Unfortunately, Boxer’s willingness is one of a blind man’s.
Boxer is another interesting character. He is defined as a very tall and enormous animal with the strength of two ordinary horses put together. Boxer is the most hardworking of all the animals, and he is applauded for it. He becomes Napoleon’s greatest supporter and has even created for himself two personal maxims: “I will work harder” and “Napoleon is always right”. He blindly follows Napoleon and later on is injured during The Battle of the Windmill, leading to his death. He is then sold by the pigs to the slaughterer- such a sad way to die.
This particular character induces a sense of pity to the reader, seeing as it is paradoxical how he knows he is the most hardworking of the animals, but he cannot even realize that he is strong enough to kill another animal, and even a human. The dogs are even unable to overpower Boxer in the later chapters, yet Boxer lacks enough knowledge to sense that he is being abused and exploited for his capabilities. It is in his character that we see how the peasant or working class is represented. They are a great fraction of the humanity, and, with a combined force, can overthrow any oppressive government. Unfortunately, most of them are uneducated and blindly put themselves to believe in the government’s “good intentions”.
A great shift from Boxer’s character (from the most willing) is Mollie’s character (to the most unwilling). Mollie is a white mare that acts superficially towards the revolution. She complains that without Mr. Jones, nobody would be there to tie ribbons on her mane and give her sugar. She cowers at the Battle of Cowshed, and eventually, she is seen fleeing the farm with a new owner. Mollie actually represents the higher classes that refuse to participate in social change. This is due to their already comfortable positions in society, and they find that if they participate in revolts and in the overthrowing of the government that ‘feeds them sugar’, they will lose more than they will gain. Much like Mollie, these classes are usually individualistic in nature.
If one were to make a search on the behaviour of mares as compared to stallions and the like, one would find a common description. Mares are often commented to be easy to handle and much more obedient. They are easier to tame, in other words. With this, Orwell probably used the mare to depict how, oftentimes, when the higher class citizens are lured to greener pastures, they are easy to tempt and easy to bring to the other side. In Mollie’s case, a few ribbons and much sugar was enough to bring her into a new owner’s farm and abandon the cause for revolution. It seems brilliant for Orwell to use such a subconscious image of the mare and embody it into a character such as Mollie.
More than anything, one would have to note the character of Snowball. He is one character not to miss in Orwell’s novel. Snowball is actually character more intelligent than his rival, Napoleon. He is shown as a progressive politician, working for the improvement of the Animal Farm through the plans of a windmill (which was originally his plan). After he is expelled from the farm by Napoleon (it is unknown whether or not he died), his entire image is changed and it is not long before the animals start to see him as an evil character and they blame Snowball’s name for all the bad things that happen to the farm after he is gone. This is due to the black propaganda that Napoleon’s regime has invented against Snowball.
In another fable called “The Eagle, The Cat, and The Wild Sow”, we find how the cat fools the eagle and the wild sow into believing that they are up against each other. The cat tells the eagle that the wild sow is after the eggs of the eagle. The cat in turn tells the wild sow that the eagle will come and snatch up her little piglets the minute they emerge from their homes. Terrorized, the two animals (the eagle and the wild sow) refuse to leave their posts and eventually die of hunger. This provides an ample supply of food for the cat and her kittens.
Much like in the case of Snowball, we see here the use of propaganda to terrorize others. Squealer is another pig, and the most popular of the porky pigs. He serves as the story’s propagandist and works for Napoleon to ruin Snowball’s name after he is exiled. This way, it is easier to get the other animal’s loyalty. The Cat, like Snowball, lies to the other animals in order to get what she wants and needs.
Snowball is a contradictory figure to what was stated earlier in the paper. Snowball does not seem corrupt and filthy at all, acting high and mighty to get what he wants. Instead, he is a great orator and urges the other animals to keep working for the cause that Old Major had originally bestowed upon them at the first triumphant meeting of the farm.
Perhaps this is another of Orwell’s methods to make us see that there can be two sides to everything, as with Napoleon and Snowball. In all governments, there are politicians seeking position for the good of the country, and there are politicians seeking position for their own good.
It is amusing, seeing how these animals are portrayed in such a political perspective. Now, I do wonder if the symbols for hard work, dedication, religion, and corruption change when placed under a different culture.

III. Asian Fables: The Panchatantra, Cerita Sang Kancil, and the Monkey and the Turtle
In Asia, fables are more likely to be known as ‘folk tales’, the term having originated from the practice of the small folk towns all around Asia. These are “stories of the folk” or the “older generations” traditionally passed down oral story-telling. Most Asian fables usually tell stories of origins, and could sometimes stand as warnings or cautions to naughty little children.
A famous Hindu collection of fables is called the Panchatantra, and while it originated from India, the spread of Hinduism to several Asian countries paved way to the permeating of these fables into several Asian cultures. It was said to have been created by Vishnusharma, a court Brahmin for the study of political science. It is set in the jungle and is composed of five stories involving characters like lions, elephants and jackals. This is a time-old collection of fables, and are said to be the most read fables in the world. Several versions and translations of the stories within the collection have been made by the Chinese, the Koreans, and even the Japanese. An example of this would be the Indian tale “A Mouse-Maid Made Mouse”. The Japanese version of this tale is called Shasekishu, and because the Japanese simply adapted the tale, it is very much alike the Indian tale, using mice as a symbol for the meek and timid.
Another example would be Cerita Sang Kancil. If given a rough translation, “Cerita” means story while “Kancil” means ‘Deer’. These are Malay folk tales that feature stories about animals with cynical elements and themes. The deer is usually shown as the protagonist in this collection of stories. They’re much like fables of the western world. Cerita Sang Kancil even has its own televised cartoon version, though it was originally passed down by oral tradition.
In Cerita Sang Kancil, we find the deer to be described as a very intelligent character, and is even regarded as one of the most brilliant creatures in the forest. In one of the stories, we find Kancil roaming the forest in search of food. Wandering far from the forest, he soon finds a river to where he drinks and quenches his thirst after a long search. Tired, he rests under a Banyan Tree and spots a good number of scrumptious fruits across the river, and tries to find a way to cross the river and eat the fruits. The river current was swift and could easily carry him away, so it was not going to be easy for him. Then, here comes the crocodile. Kancil greets him cordially saying: “apa khabar ye?” (how are you?) The brilliant Kancil then tells the crocodile that he needs to gather all the crocodiles because King Solomon has ordered Kancil to count the number of crocodiles in the river. He adds that it is an honor to even just hear King Solomon’s name, so they must hurry and lie side by side across the river so that he can easily count the crocodiles. Obediently, the crocodile calls the others and they do as told. Quickly, Kancil hops over their backs and tells them that he had lied to them, and that all he wanted were the fruits on the other side. The Malays say that this is why, to this day, the enraged crocodiles have sworn to snap at every deer they see.
In other Asian cultures, the Malay’s Sang Kancil is depicted in the character of a monkey, who easily outsmarts the other animals. In Chinese legends, we even find that there is such thing as a Monkey King/God- a witty and wise creature who sometimes uses his powers for mischief.
Here in the Philippines, we have our own set of fables, too, and a good number of them feature Monkeys. We, though, have a different way of depicting monkeys. We see monkeys as mischievous-sometimes greedy- creatures that are usually punished by their selfish ways.
The fable of The Monkey and The Turtle is a well-known Ilocano tale that features a turtle outsmarting a bunch of monkeys, despite the superior body structure of the latter. It talks of how the monkey is at first helped by the Turtle to find food, but because the monkey is too greedy to share, the Turtle tries to distract him. The Monkey is accidentally killed, falling from the banana tree. Then, the Turtle fools a bunch of other monkeys, chopping up the monkey’s body and selling it to the other monkeys who greedily eat it up and give the turtle what it wanted in exchange. Learning that the Turtle had fed them their own kind, they try to punish the turtle and throw it into the river. They are again fooled by the turtle when it is seen rising on the surface of the water with a lobster. They ask the turtle how he can catch lobsters. He tells them that he ties a string to his waist and ties the other end to a heavy rock. Upon following what the turtle has said, the monkeys drown.

IV. Comparison of the East and the West
With these stories to compare, there is so much to realize with the cultural differences between the East and the West and how these cultural differences can affect even the earliest folk tales of an area.
Let us take for example George Orwell’s Animal Farm. It is set in the farmlands, and gives you an image of the countryside of England; whereas, if we notice, most Asian fables are set in the jungle or forest. This tells much about England, as compared to countries like Malaysia or the Philippines.
If we remember, during the earlier centuries, most of the trees and forests of England were cut down due to the manufacture of armor for the several wars that had occurred in the area. This left the countryside to resort to farming and this had been the situation for so long a time that this turned into the general image of the outskirts of these English countries. Even now, this is what we see. It may be that this image of farmlands outnumbering forests is reason enough that there are few- if not none at all- English fables and stories set in dense forests, as compared to fables and folk tales here in Asia. True, there are numerous farmlands all over Asia, but forests and woodlands, as well as mountains covered in forests, still are very prominent in these eastern countries. These places often set the stage for something extraordinary to happen, like talking monkeys that get outsmarted by a wise turtle.
Even the use of animals is different.
If we notice, most of the animals used in western fables are farm animals or domesticated ones, as in stories like: “The Raven and The Swan”, “The Bull and the Goat”, among others. In Asian fables, we find the use of animals not normally found in towns and provinces, such as monkeys, turtles, jackals and elephants. Again, it speaks of what the English are exposed to and what most Asian cultures are exposed to.
Regardless of this though, we find that stories from both sides of the world are all commentaries on the society that it comes from. It tells of how the English or the Westerners are more inclined to speak of the political aspects of society, and of how the Asians more often notice the moral values and traditions within a society. This shows that there must be a difference with the way the westerners and the easterners see the world.
In a psychological study conducted on Japanese and American mothers, there was found to be a difference in the way they spoke to their children. It was found that whenever a child would refuse to eat what was served to him/her, most American mothers would say: “Eat it. It’s good for you. It’ll make you stronger”. In contrast, Japanese mothers would say: “Eat it. If you don’t, the farmer who planted that will be disappointed”. A variation would be: “Eat it. You should not waste food while others toil to even have food on the table”.
Through the study, we see the obvious difference in the upbringing of children on both spheres of the planet. Perhaps the remarks of American mothers create a more individualistic atmosphere amongst the children. If we notice the fables from the western side, we find that most of the characters display traits that entail individual interest, like how the wolf served his personal interest, trying to eat the lamb. The Cat did not care much if the Eagle and Wild Sow were to die, so long as she and her kittens would have food. Mollie, in Animal Farm, ran from the revolution, preferring to have a mouth full of sugar and a mane bedecked with ribbons. Boxer created his maxims, concentrating on himself, preventing himself from seeing what was really happening around him. Napoleon and the other pigs wanted the farm’s benefits for themselves, so they hoarded the apples and the milk and took to living luxuriously in the Jones’ farmhouse.
In the Asian folk tales, we find themes that focus mostly on the importance of companionship, as in the first two stories of the Panchatantra that tell of losing friends (Mitra-bheda) and gaining friends (Mitra- sampapti). In the Philippine tale of the Turtle and the Monkey, we find the Turtle’s initial intention to help the hungry Monkey. Here we see the consciousness of most Asians to consider their fellowmen and kin.
Perhaps this spark of difference in the two cultures is key for the development of such themes in the aforementioned tales and fables. I find it amusing, seeing the similarities and grounds for contrast in the fables I have chosen to cite. Now, I have a clearer view of how culture affects even the stories we pass down to our children, and how these stories unconsciously preserve our nature and the subconscious thoughts of our ancestors.

Awkward Day

So, I’m 18 years of age as of today (but that wont be official until 3:45 later in the afternoon), and I’m not sure how to react to it. The only thing I mostly despise about this is because I’m not at home sleeping my ass off.

Instead, I’m here, in my dormitory, working on my papers to pass these subjects I’ve taken. I do hope I pass. Heaven help me to pass. I’ve done all I can. Please, let me have what I want this time.

Dear Evan,

I’ve gone to Taklong Island today, on a field trip with my classmates. It’s wonderful here. We went boating in the afternoon, swimming around in shallow coves and flitting from one isle to another. It’s like there’s a cluster of islands here, formed by the corals from way before we were born.

Many things happened today, and they exhilarate me, but I want to tell you the most about how I faced my intense -almost irrational- fear of heights. I dove (with much hesitation at first) into the blue clear waters from a cliff, and it must’ve been 10 feet high from the water. It was not an ordinary height, mind you. No, not at all.

I could feel them gurgling inside me, as the butterflies darted around in my stomach. I could feel my breaths shorten. Over and over, I tried to push myself to jump, and eventually I did. It was crazy, feeling my feet leave the ground! I could feel the wind rush past my face and my hair, my arms lifting up to the sky, and I heard my voice as I shrieked down onto the water. The splash drowned my yelps, and water rushed all around me. It filled almost every inch of me, dousing my skin; but then I felt buoyant and found air greeting my lungs happily. The rush of adrenaline was almost improbable, but it happened, and I don’t believe that I will ever have the guts to do it again. It was good that I did it before I couldn’t any more.

I’m on the rooftop of the place we’re staying in, which is actually a sort of research center of the university. It’s used mostly only for academic purposes, I guess. I like it here. It looks like a sort of rest house, with it’s great wide space for running around and good number of beds to accommodate large groups. I bet my mom would love it here as much as I do.

They’ve gone up to the lighthouse to get a bird’s eye view of the entire island, and I’m sure I’ll follow them up the path, because I’d like to watch the sunset from the top, but right now I’d rather stay here and smoke my cigarettes and write this short descriptive letter. I still can’t believe I jumped that cliff.

I’m realizing that I’d prefer it if they had cellphone reception, because if they did, I’d love to come and live here. I’d put up a small cafe restaurant, and then have my own beach resort. I’d have a bunch of men to man little bangkas so that the guests could go boating as they wish. Then, I’d waste my days away. I’d marry someone from here, maybe, or from the neighboring isles. Then, I’d pamper my little ass, drink beer most every night with the locals, and slowly kill my lungs with cigarettes.

I’d live a long, happy and peaceful life, writing my stories and poems, and then drown myself one night as I row to the open sea. My body would then never be found again.

Yours Truly,

Restless Minds Make For Rushed Mornings

I’ve been running for days, trying to get to somewhere, but I can’t seem to get to where I want to go. It’s frustrating, like I can’t move, and I’m looking for something but I can’t find it.

My mind is all jumbled up in pieces, and I can’t understand it.

I’m not even sure if I understand what I’m typing up right now.

What am I doing to myself?