The Law of Chaos and Order

I am usually the type of bloke who can juggle things between work and study. Within our clique of graduate students, I am usually the tough heart who can endure pressure and loneliness typically experienced. So, when somebody in the group commented that I seemed to be behaving uncharacteristically withdrawn lately, I was hit big time. 

I must admit that, after trying to be strong for quite some time, I am slowly being consumed by some chaos inside that I cannot pinpoint. I wonder if I am guilty telling a friend about a sensitive secret, stressed by my organizational responsibilities, worried about the heavy courses I will take next semester, or just missing my family and friends back home.

Whatever causes this inner chaos, I am consoling my self with this law of nature: Chaos leads to order. If things are in chaos right now, then order is yet to come.

What do you see? Puddles or flowers?

Okay, maybe I just needed to take time noticing the flowers around.

Beginning to Believe Myself Again

I may not have told you but I certainly feel guilty and at the same time insecured with one of my classes this semester. The reasons? Oh, I got a bunch of very articulate classmates and my course adviser is a seasoned Harvard graduate, and I feel I am not giving it all my best in the class.

Because of this bug, as preparation for our oral report, I read to death some books for a week. And because we were only given fifteen minutes for the oral presentation, I had to condense all the important concepts with ten slides to contain the most important concepts to beat the allotted time! And then had to get acquainted with the deep concepts with their jargons that bordered to the classical psychology.

When I presented, I brought with my hands my security blanket, my "codigo", that contains it all. But when I began talking, I never needed to take a peep into the note and my thoughts just came out my mouth smoothly. At the end of the presentations, I was given the highest score. I cannot believe that I read over and over again the positive comments in our score sheet.

We also have critique papers every month. We already had four critique papers in the course and I never got the chance to be called as highest scorer, which quietly frustrated me. I usually critique the research organization of the article then its epistemic conceptualization. Although I got brownie points, there were times when I doubted myself if I am making sense with what I write because I never get the highest.

The last two journal articles we had to critique were obviously as difficult as pulling out an impacted molar. I swear when I say I had to read them each for about ten times. The one was about cognitive task strategies in problem solving with neurological brain records. The statistical tools used were very complex that I had to study other sources. The other article was about relationship of language skills to comprehension and how these interrelationships are affected by the writing systems. The difficult part was understanding the peculiar nature of Chinese in terms of its writing system.

For the past critique papers, I challenged myself silently to top the class. When the last critique paper was to be returned, I got the highest score - a perfect one. Our course adviser especially mentioned that she admired my illustration of the variables in the diagram as a cognitive guide in understanding the research article. Other than that, I especially feel that my advantage also is my critique on the statistical tools of the study because I am quite familiar with meta analysis.

Results not for bragging but for appreciation.

I don't want to sound one big braggart, and I doubt and ask myself: Am I just one lucky dog for these? But a part of me convinces me that other than sheer luck, it must have been determination, effort and time. So, without guilt and insecurity, this is me... beginning to believe myself again.

A Story of Puddles and Rainbows

I CAN MOVE ON... I still remember those famous last words in the final good bye I told you. A puddle of tears welled in my eyes because I knew that time that my once happy world would never be the same again.

But still I remember the days when we first exchanged words and smiled at each other. I remember when we ate together and watched movie together. I remember your surprises. I remember when we held hands as we walked down that empty road on a sunset. I remember the late evenings we talked over the phone about sweet nothings.

But not all people stay, not all stories end happily ever after. That day when we parted ways, I walked away and kissed the first man I bumped into. Okay, lying aside, I actually slept with the memory of you and woke up with the memory of you. I went to the park and looked for you. No, it was actually you that I saw in all their faces. I drank much, talked much, and laughed much. And when I got home, I cried rivers.

But one day I woke up without the memories of you. I retrieved one but it looked as delicate as the soft edges of an old photograph. I still saw your face and your smile, but they did not cut my heart the way they did then. I looked at the mirror, took a flight of stairs, and I passed by the places we went together, but they did not make my heart break again. After all, they were just places.

But here I am writing about you once more. But instead of writing a perfect metaphor about your eyes or an abstract attribution about how your love used to hold my heart, I am writing this piece to deliver eulogy to a memory that is very soon to be placed in its proper place... away where it will not hurt anymore... to the catacombs of the past.

I CAN MOVE ON... I still remember those famous last words in the final good bye I told you. A puddle of tears welled in my eyes, but this time I know, as the saying goes, there is a rainbow always after the rain.

A beautiful promise. I captured this rainbow two years ago.

Spasibo, Daddy Vygotsky!

I am sure that such terms as Scaffolding, and of course, the Zone of Proximal Development, will not be missed in discussions of contributions of Lev Vygotsky in educational psychology. But other than those widely popular concepts attributed to him, how much do we know his concepts further?

I was mystified - and am still mystified until today - with the enduring concepts of brilliant psychologists in history like Lev Vygotsky. I used to teach a topic of him a few years back, but my past knowledge about his ideas pale in shame this time as I digested these books for my course requirements:

Vygotsky and more, anyone?

For that shameful reason, allow my notes get into this online space as I share to you some, just some, of the extended concepts I learned. Take note of the capitalized words as I am either introducing them or discussing them with some twist as Lev Vygotsky was "weird" indeed in his ideas.

One of the most quoted statement of Vygotsky has been the GENERAL GENETIC LAW OF CULTURAL DEVELOPMENT which states that “any function in the child’s cultural development appears twice or on two planes… it appears first between people as an intermental category, and then within the child as an intramental category.” Though this statement appears to be simple, it actually opens a can of worms I need to tediously study. It elaborates the social and individual planes where cognitive development occurs. It touches the two major concepts of internalization process and appropriation process.

The most important and perhaps the most popular of his psychological discovery is the ZONE OF PROXIMAL DEVELOPMENT. Instead of discussing it, I focused mainly on what people do not usually know. While recognizing that a child can accomplish more with scaffold, it was claimed that the potential of the child – even with help – is limited. This makes sense though. I believe ZPD is one of the most misunderstood concept of Vygotsky. Many parents believe that children can do so much with ZPD to the point that they push children to learn what is beyond their range or level. I pity these children who had to suffer the pressure early. We must educate parents.

The analysis of Vygotsky about PLAY is also interesting than most common that we know about it. Though he wrote so little on the topic, it is more evocative than definitive. My interest in this portion was piqued around the paradoxes about play. I am taking liberty to quote him once from the books about these paradoxes: “In one sense a child at play is free to determine his own actions. But in another sense this is an illusory freedom, for his actions are in fact subordinated to meanings of things, and he acts accordingly.” Alright, freedom but no freedom! 

We can merrily express "spasibo" or thanks the Russian way to Lev Vygotsky for the concepts of Scaffolding and of course, the Zone of Proximal Development, and all the rest. It is good to explore farther than the horizon our eyes can view although a synthesis like this post would not be enough capture the entirety of his bright ideas. And other than that, synthesizing bright ideas is never an easy task. 

For now, going back to the reality of life, wish me the best of luck on my oral report on this topic. This is funny but I feel nervous just thinking about it.

The Black Butterflies

And truth must be told... I decided to give it a try...  I got tattoo etched on my left wrist last December 30. 

At least to me, it was one of the hardest decisions I made to consider the profession that I am in. I expect some stern eye brows would ask: And why butterflies? 

A butterfly symbolizes serene transformation.  I feel like I have gone through and still going through many changes at this period of my life; some wonderful and others outrageous. But in all these changes, I have willingly surrendered and experienced for the better, just like the butterfly in its stages of metamorphosis.

And I remember freedom as the needle kissed the surface of my skin. It was pain that I allowed to kiss my soul, too. I endured the prize, not consequence, of such freedom! I proved to myself that I can stand to my decisions and that no pain that I cannot endure out there. 

I know that in the code that I pledged allegiance, I am bound to show decency including in how I appear physically. But who must define what is decent and not? I am a human with the right to self expression and I remain resolute to such right as long as I do not harm others. 

Let the butterflies fly....

And truth must be told... I have not one but three tattoos ... The other two are mine to keep and your nosy minds to figure out where.

Lost in the Missing

"Is it possible to miss someone you do not know?" That is the question that has been haunting my soul. Because I have been missing someone so terribly lately.

Impressed with the discipline of philosophy here in UP like I have never been in my previous philosophy classes, I came with this question of reality of a human feeling. There are just feelings in this world that are antithesis to the normal feelings we know as humans. It is like an elephant learning to fly. Or like black as the new pink.

But what if, indeed, these feelings we know as normal is only a manifestation of our subjective human understanding and the real normal is the exact opposite of everything? What if missing someone you know is only a feeling influenced by what our culture of emotion is used to feel and the reality is that it is possible for us to miss another human we never know at all? I do not know. But who knows.

How does it feel to miss someone you do not know... is yearning, wanting, hoping, desiring... of a person you never know in your life personally, not even in a closer space or time. It happens when you are obsessed with the idea of the identity of that person... the look you never saw, the voice you never heard, the feelings you never felt. 

It is not perhaps the object of that person I miss but the essence of that person... the existence of that person whether that person exists in either kind of reality. But would it matter to argue the nuances between the object and essence of that person as the point of missing? That would be useless because I miss everything about that person....

This is the feeling I am feeling right now... lost in the missing.

Library Afternoons and Personal Annotations

Between the rigors of UP in the new chapter of my life and the times when I felt the tendrils of loneliness embrace my soul being home away, I spent my afternoons in the quiet libraries of the university amidst the heaps of books that contain wonderful epistemologies and metaphysics. It has brought my perspectives to wider dimensions of life and it amazes my human existence every time I come to realize that such realities of ideas exist in this world. Indeed, in this seemingly small geographic enclave, there is still so much worlds to come, to see, and to conquer.

One of the tree lined streets in UP on holy noons going to the library.

Here are some of the most celebrated, at least to me, annotated bibliographies that I managed to write:

Rorty, A. O. (1998). Philosophers on education: New historical perspectives. London: Routledge

The implicit paradigm of Freud to learning was the way children conducted “sexual researchers.” Children should discover sex in their own ways based on their own needs at particular stage. He further illustrated a war between curiosity and education. Children want to know sex but adults tell them to learn education to distract them. Hence, education teaches the child to get disinterest in what really matters most to learn – sex.

Edgerton, S. H. (1996). Translating the curriculum. New York: Routledge

This selfish love is the one where the lover soaks as much experience into the self from the other who is loved though not in intrusive and obliterating way. It is different from selfless love which involves emotional investment that includes risk of rejection at the same time. But in order for love to grow, it should be selfish that it cannot risk to be rejected... it must require reciprocity and the lover must get in return of that investment. This deconstruction of hierarchy of love is found in the transference love – a love that is peculiar to pedagogical situation. This love here does not function as analogy for teaching and learning; it is real and important condition for pedagogy.

Orata, P. R. (19780. Self help barangay high schools. Quezon City: New Day Publsihers

If Mohammad cannot go to the mountain, then the mountain should go to Mohammad. If the children cannot go to the schools, then the schools should go to the children. We desire the same philosophy in our educational system today. We should stop looking at the other side of the fence, the educational systems of other countries; the grass is always greener in our own backyard, the unnoticed margins of our education history.

Ballenger, B. (2007). The curious researcher: A guide to writing research papers. New York: Pearson Custom Publishing

Tourists still buy bags of seeds for about a dollar and pose for pictures drenched in appealing flocks of pigeons. On the other side, officials of these cities continue to wage war they call “pest control” against these birds that decay cultural monuments and drop dung fungus. It is hard not to admire the traits of these pigeons, but it is also undesirable for these creatures to earn a negative label when it is only a normal part of their pigeon existence. Some wars we encounter today, either personal or social, are some wars that we cannot win because humans just know that the rewards of winning will not be worth the cost. Like the pigeon battle, our wars are futile endeavors that we cannot win because we also battle our own conflicts: our political responsibility to protect the great works of humanity and at the same time our moral obligation to share space with other lives in this planet.

Pratt, D. (1994). Curriculum planning. Orlando, Florida: Harcourt Brace, Inc.
Knowing has always focused on the objective study - dispassionate and detached. This objectivity fails to create harmony of relative realities, which in turn produces a crippling isolation of dream and reality, ambiguity and certainty, thought and action, poetry and science. This is the concern of the feminist movement in curriculum. The modes of thought and action experienced by women are process rather than product, social rather than isolated, facilitating rather than competitive, intuitive rather than rigid, supportive rather than difficult. What the feminist pedagogy offers is not simply a curriculum that responds more fairly to the needs of women, but a curriculum that reflects fully the nature of humanity.

Untangled Shoelaces

People we meet in our lifetime is like a myriad of untangled shoelaces. Each has different lengths and colors. While some I get along, others I clash against. They are the people whom I consider difficult to deal. But through the times, I have learned how to actually tangle the shoelaces that we are.

I realized that difficult people are everywhere and I cannot change them no matter how I must try as they are not born to fit into my own mold and taste. It is until then when I began to look into the other side of life: change my reaction and perception about them.

When I feel being intentionally attacked, I have learned to step back and analyze things from which I am involved with. Just like a window, by taking a glimpse of things which I cannot see from my point of view, I become more aware of my limitations.

And it may be really the hardest part to do but I have also known to treat difficult people nicely despite everything. I believe it is not pretending as I can distinguish that thin line that divides it from maturity. As the old saying goes: It doesn't hurt to be kind at all.

I rub shoulders with many people of different walks of life everyday. I may not find them good at all, but I am glad to know that I can still show them the better side of things. I believe that life is a game and it is in my hands how I tangle these shoelaces.

So, God help me.

Behind The Bars

Everytime the word "jail" slithers in conversations, I personally feel something anxious. I have never been to jail in my whole life until yesterday to facilitate the special election process. Looking at the two storey building with our incarcerated brothers in orange shirt behind the bars is really an intimidating event.

I couldn't wholly imagine if I will be imprisoned inside one of those cells. Limited spaces. Frozen wishes. Clipped opportunities. Unabbreviated dreams. I couldn't afford to lose this most prized freedom of being an autarchic human unless I go nutty like a fruit cake and blow an innocent brain out.

But I realized that at some point I am in fact long been a captive of my own self. I think that I am to an extent the damn engineer of our my imprisonment. I have been building those bars around myself to set limits to otherwise beautiful things.  

There are times when I deliberately ignore people and shut them all out of my life. It feels being distant and I start to become a hater in a claustrophobic world that I myself make. But thanks to my acknowledgement of hate as an unworthy emotion and I know I am not the imprisoned person I want to be.

Sometimes I deny to myself the things that I deserve and I handcuff myself in hypocrite humility. It is like trapping myself when I know I've got to believe myself. Would have it not been for defense mechanism called sublimation, I would have been suffocated to simplism without placing cushion of laughter between praises and pressures.

My own self, and nobody else, is the instrument of captivity or freedom. To some degree I am jailed in my own irrational self but most of the time the choice to be free is always mine with the divinity that shapes me.

Share with compassion for life is really meant to be shared. Love again because it is lovelier the second time around. And expand because the world outside is an endless opportunity.

Fake People

Fake people don  social mask.

Urban Dictionary defines fake people as persons who are not genuine and will do whatever it takes to make themselves look good. They take part in hypocrisy; they change their personality to fit to a certain group.

Alright, pardon me while I rant a little about fake people but let us face the grim truth of life. Human beings are naturally born performers - actors and actresses in this big stage that Shakespear called world. In a nutshell, people are just fake.

I have a lot of sorting of friends in my life and I have met a few of them who I later realized were wolves in sheep's clothing. They usually don a complete good character to cover up the pessimist, bitter and envious pile of persons they truly are.

Sometimes I wish not to see those masked faces, but the more they are always on my dash. People will always know people, and the worst part is I am always pushed to keep nice to them who are trying to kiss my ass. These are the times when I want to hang their faces in the wall and punch off those fake smiles.

But then I realized lately that treating people despite their being two faced is not being pretentious; it's called manners. I have to grow up to know that manner matters all the time regardless of what kind of person we deal with. Yes, it's like a bitter pill to swallow but that's where the thin line divides between being pretentious and having manners. 

Sometimes that is a hard truth to accept. I have to forgive myself for hating them but I should not forget my lessons. I cannot deny to myself the dislike I have towards fake people in my life but I always remember that I must not step down their low profiles. So, like, smile back to them and silently say: Don't feel nice, you're the biggest moron in life, don't you know?

I am done hanging out with people who came off the factory line of plastics. I know not a lot of friends, both true and fake, who regularly lurk on my blog posts, but I am sorry for those who have to read this. I guess I just need to get it off my chest. 

Emotional Fixations

I recently went for a neurological and psychiatric exam. And hey, don't get me wrong for this. It was not I was referred to the test because I have 'attitude' in work but because it was one of the requirements.

The test was composed of three parts. The first test was the usual objective type mostly employing logic, reasoning and analysis. The second was a personal sentence completion test about experiences, memories and preferences. The third was a series of drawing lines, objects and figures.

At the end of the exam, one of the impressions of the psychologist was that I still cling to emotional fixations at my age. I am amazed rather than surprised to unravel this mystery. After some self evaluations, I realized that I might actually have a lot of share of fixations in life. 

As far as I can recall, in psychoanalysis, fixation can be described as a process by which a person stays attached to a previous stage of his development. In a the parlance of mediocre person, it is an obsession to some objects or experiences or persons in early life.

The psychologist did not indicate specific instances to point out my emotional fixations and I don't know how the psychologist came up with such impression. But looking back at my answers in the test, I found vivid accounts of my emotional fixations although I am in question because I am not a certified psychologist in the first place.

I recalled and observed that most of my personal responses in the synonymous sentence completion items about memories were mostly about childhood nostalgia like liking to scribble anything, enjoying to read books, missing the study times, regretting the unproductive activities, etc. 

At the third part of the test, I was asked on the spot to draw a boy and a girl, to which I illustrated children ready to go to school. They were both neatly wearing school uniforms. They were also both having big smiles in their countenances. My description under the drawing must have confirmed after I wrote something like they enjoy going to school.

With these, must I be obsessed with the old school days when everything seemed just bright and happy? Honestly, I am. In my daily ramblings as an adult, it is inevitable to face mistakes, failures and disappointments. I always look back at my childhood days where I feel better; happy memories remind me to make good and sad regrets inspire me to do better.

Nobody is a superhero and we are doomed to meet failures - a lot of them. We fixate by looking for things inside us that make us feel secured. I believe that it is essential for humans to have emotional fixations in life. As the root of the term denotes, to fix means to set right and place securely.

How about your own fixations?

Psychosexual

Last night, my usual Facebooking time after the dinner was shortly interrupted when my friend beeped me this sort of word guessing game.

Alzheimer's Test: How fast can you guess these words? Time yourself!
1. F _ _ K   
2. P U _ S _   
3. S _ X   
4. P _ N _ S   
5. B O O _ S   
6. _ _ N D O M

I had a quick time guessing all the items. My fearless takes were the following.
1. FUCK   2. PUSSY   3. SEX   4. PENIS   5. BOOBS   6. CONDOM

And I was laughing to myself as I scrolled down. The actual answers were the following.
1. FORK   2. PULSE   3. SIX   4. PANTS   5. BOOKS   6. RANDOM

In the famous yet controversial psychology theorized by Sigmund Freud, it is believed that humans, from the moment of birth, are sexually oriented creatures who unconsciously possess an instinctual libido or sex energy that goes through different stages of development. What's more interesting though is Freud's another idea that our unconscious drives may sometimes emerge in the slips of tongue, associations of idea, dreams, jokes, and illnesses. 

Whether the test was made to trick or I was just too stupid, I just have this naughty thought in mind. Must my hasty responses relating a rather clean teaser to sexual terms be a manifestation of that unconscious possession of libido?

As the usual thing that I do, I shall post a link of this topic in my different social sites. Let me see how many nosy Freuds will click the title.