hmmm

It's snowing.

Out with the old

THIS happens to me every last week of December. I clean, I throw away odd assortments of useless things I've accumulated over the year, thinking they might be useful someday. I erase files. I make copies, I make back-ups. I sweep like my life depended on it. And, I change my blog design.

There will be other changes too. I won't be in school next semester. I've graduated. Who knows what I'll do with a second masters degree. I'll be on my own the next few weeks sending off job applications, maybe holding a temporary, but interesting "pang-pocket money" kind of job. Suddenly, I will not be part of an official community. This means I'll have to creep back into the other communities I chose to ignore while I was tearing a path towards thesis completion: the church choir, maybe the larger symphony choir. The only sort of structure I see I'll be having will be the thrice of four times a week fitness class.

It's scary. I have no idea what's to become of me. I only have high hopes, darn good skills, and a thicker hide.

Hawak Kamay

THESIS defended, revised, bound and submitted. Other classes done. Just waiting for grades and woohoo my diploma. Strangely though, work isn't done yet. I still have three days worth of student work finishing up a webpage. Did my Christmas shopping already, plus the wrapping and mailing of goodies. But I really wish I had these next three days to myself. Okay lang. Kaunti na lang and I can veg.

This mp3 of The Abominable O Holy Night has cheered me up though. Be sure to listen until the very end. I've also belatedly followed Pinoy Dream Academy in large part because I read about it in Jim Paredes' blog. I really like Yeng's composition "Hawak Kamay". Medyo melodramatic and syrupy yung music video but nadadala naman ng kanta.

Miming

You are invited

If you can make it, please come :)

The Experience of Visitor-Wildlife Interactions
in Theodore Roosevelt National Park
A seminar presentation by Natasha Vizcarra
Monday, December 11, 2006
4 p.m. @ Sports & Health Center Room 212

Abstract

The purpose of this study was to explore the nature of the experience of visitor-wildlife interactions and describe meanings that visitors attribute to the experience. Seven participants of an outdoor leadership class held at Theodore Roosevelt National Park were interviewed on-site using a semi-structured and open-ended format. Transcripts of the interview were analyzed using qualitative reduction and a second reader was consulted for validity.

Results of the study yielded a four-component description which characterizes the experience according to the animals’ attributes, the interaction, the visitor, and the habitat. Results also yielded seven themes of meanings that visitors attribute to their interaction with wildlife, namely novelty; awe; escape from the day-to-day; self-reflection; power, vulnerability and respect; the negotiation of space; and symbolism.

Kissed by the Snow Queen

OKAY, so maybe snow isn't all that bad. Yesterday, I had one of those moments Oprah might call "aha", Ricky Reyes might call "ahahahay", and childhood friend Jay Policarpio might respond to as "shet na malagket".

Warm and tingly from a hour of step aerobics, I rushed to my locker dreading the walk home. I was anticipating it to be as cold and uncomfortable as my morning walk to school. I also wasn't too keen on walking in the dark (there have been reports of overzealous Mormons who might try to convert you right there on the sidewalk).

And so I put on all the clothing and gear that I had put on this morning. I got a customary amused look from a local lady when she passed my locker. Well, kebs, di ba? I'd rather look overdressed than die of hypothermia. Besides, I have the perfect excuse: "Um, obviously I'm not from around here."

When I got outside, it wasn't all that cold. The temperature had dropped and I realized that that now I really was overdressed.

Kebs.

Toasty in my snowpants and coats and looking slightly blimpy, I crossed the street onto the UMD parking lot. It was snowing lots. Not lightly, not heavily, but lots. Also the snow wasn't wet and icky. It was powdery. Almost like shredded styrofoam. Or very light salt. Or extra white dandruff. The parking lots had these tall bright lamposts and I found myself stopping under one of them to look up. And there it was. That moment. Everything was so still and quiet I could hear flakes land with soft "plicks" on my coat. I don't know if it was the step aerobics adrenaline coarsing through my veins or the fact that I was kinda hungry for dinner, but I was suddenly aware of the snow's glinty qualities. The word "beautiful" doesn't do justice to it. Maybe a word that combines beautiful, awesome, mystical, mysterious, serene, humbling, swirly, glinty, still, quiet, cooooool, and oh my God would suffice. But there isn't such a word, at least in my limited knowledge of world languages.

I loved my walk home last night. Man, the earth is such an awesome organism.

It's Snowing

SNOW. Bleah. Minus 10 degress Celcius outside. Will need to wear snow pants walking to school. No use bringing the truck. Won't find parking anyway. Add one more hour to travel time. Extra hour for:

-putting on snow pants and sweater
-putting on wool socks and hiking shoes
-attaching extra traction to hiking shoes (icy sidewalks kasi)
-putting on winter coat, hat, gloves and scarf
-adjusting backpack strap
-walking, er waddling to school more slowly
-getting to my locker
-taking off snow pants and sweater
-taking off wool socks and hiking shoes
-taking off extra traction to hiking shoes (icy sidewalks kasi)
-taking off on winter coat, hat, gloves and scarf
-storing all extra winter clothing in locker

Yeah!

BOLTON steps down.

No one was looking, eh

First Tree Cut

THERE is a balsam fir in our living room. My first "real" Christmas tree. It stands tall and its tip is a foot away from the ceiling. It's a leany tree. We didn't have the proper base for it. So, for now its home is the orange Home Depot bucket we've filled with water and it leans on the corner of our living room where the TV used to be.

I like our tree. It's a friendly tree. But I guess I am still partial to the plastic Christmas tree of my youth.

***

The authentic Pinoy Christmas tradition is the parol, the star lantern. But, in addition to that, I grew up with our plastic Chrismas tree and grew up anticipating the gifts that would appear under it during Christmas.

I remember us buying the tree from SM Cubao. I must have been 7 or 8 years old. I have vague memories of another tree. An aluminum one with sparkly, foil-type leaves. Very 70s. It must have been trashed. Which was why we came home from Cubao one day with a 6-foot box of Christmas spirit. My dad and I were put in charge of putting it together after All Saints Day and putting it away by January. When I grew older, it became my sole responsibility.

I don't know what has become of my plastic tree. I assume it's still in our Culiat home, now my sister's home. Or it might have been sold by her no-good boyfriend.

***

It's a strange experience seeing the origins of a tradition you thought was yours. Here in Duluth, or maybe the rest of the US, getting a fake tree during Christmas is like not going to the cemeteries during All Saints Day. It's sacrilege. It happens, yes. But it's weird and non-traditional. (I have, by the way, never been to a cemetery during All Saints Day since 1996.) The practice of going into the woods to chop down a tree is a cherished childhood Christmas tradition. There is always, of course, the pre-chopped tree that can be purchased from the grocery store or at the mall. But these are real trees too. Not plastic. Not fake.

When C. and I arrived at the edge of Boulder Lake for the community tree cut, there were families with their children. Men with large saws, too big really to cut trees that are only 5 inches across at the base. C. and I brought a small wood saw. And after saying hello to my grad school cohorts (they were in charge of the program), we walked north to look for our balsam fir.

Crunching along in the new snow, we would stop once in a while to examine potential candidates. Some trees were the right height, but not leafy enough. Kind of nekkid. Some were leafy but too tall. Some looked perfect but were not the right kind of tree. Every once in a while, I would hear laughter or hoots in the woods. I could see Christmas. But it wasn't my Christmas. I could see it in C. as he scanned the woods for our tree with a childish excitement in his eyes.

I thought, so this is the Christmas tree tradition. Mine was just a copy. Really fake. In keeping with many Filipino things that are borrowed from the US. I felt that my Christmas memories had been cheapened somewhat. All along, I had a Christmas tree, but here was the real Christmas tree.

Serves me right for having a parent who worked at an American Air Base. I wished that I had been in charge of a parol instead of a plastic tree. We never even got a Capampangan parol. You know, the kind with the crazy, swirly lights. Or the delicate but beautiful parol made of capiz. I never experienced making one myself.

I felt bad for me and my fake tree. My childhood Christmas tradition was a plastic imitation, and I am a Filipino with a Russian name.

The Dodge

I FEEL embarrassed for two of my committee members. It's very obvious--to me at least--that they merely skimmed through my drafts of chapter 4 and 5. Perhaps because they have such busy schedules or perhaps because that is the full extent of their critical reading skills.

My one female committee member on the other hand has concise and insightful comments. Often, she brings up points in my draft that I have wondered about or worried about myself. I know and I am sure she has read my draft thoughtfully and responsibly.

I sit there and I think to my two male committee members, 'Tut-tut!' I've done that dodge before as a graduate student in English studies. In my Feminist Literary Criticism class to be exact, where we had to read one or two novels a WEEK. I have also seen the dodge too many times when I was a reporter. Seen it from politicians, lawyers and policemen when asked direct questions they obviously had to answer but did not want to answer.

I have also had the good fortune to have the sharpest readers as professors in the University of the Philippines; the late Franz Arcellana, Butch Dalisay, Jing Hidalgo. And of course, I've had the sharpest readers as editors, unflinching journalists who attack a draft with such glee: Chato Garcellano, Letty Magsanoc and yeah, ok, those other male editors.

So, here, I don't know if my two male committee members have an idea how much they are failing in my eyes. It hits me. Well, what would I expect from a non Ivy-league school? Excellent professors do exist in UMD. But so-so, run-of-the mill state college level professors also exist here. And they were sitting right in front me.

Suddenly, mas lalong bumango ang UP sa akin. Hey Third World doesn't mean third world in education excellence. Linchak! Mas maraming magaling na profs sa UP kesa sa UMD.