socrarest

Human Person

2012-10-21T05:49:00.002-07:00

Human Person

Nowadays, human being seems to have a control in everything. Transcendent Being or God seems to have a very little role in the life of human person. Human persons are acting as superhuman or to borrow Nietzche’s term ‘ubermensch’. From different spheres in human society, man seems to be superior. Man shows his superiority in every field he belongs to. In the sphere of politics, leaders cannot agree on crafting specific laws that would serve the greater good or the interest of the public. Leaders are putting premium on the interest of the self. They fail to put forward the interest of their constituents. In looking on other field in human society, people engage in business are showing superiority by manipulating other individuals. Greater profit is the driving force for people in business world. Most often, they disrespect the rights of their employees and customers. Improper compensation is still the cry of many employees today. Inequity is still present in the business world. In the field of science, man’s superiority is also present. Man seems to have a total control of the development of human person. The presence of cloning is an evident that man is trying to control even the creation of a living creature. In this manner, man is no longer subordinate to the Creator but he shares the same power with the Creator. In the field of education, man of today fails to realize the very essence of educating oneself. Man of today always equates education with schooling. Schooling, most often promotes the attitude of superiority. Students, in order not to fail, would cheat during examination. Learning is most often measured through grade that’s why students use any means whether it is by hook or crook, just to pass from the subject. This attitude towards learning produces many individuals who are merely schooled but not educated. Schooling, sometimes promotes negative attitudes to the students who are not willing to submit to the discipline of education. All these examples are realities of today. These are realities that show that man is indeed trying to control everything-an attempt of superiority over the Creator.

Despite the effort of man to control everything, he could not still explain why there are circumstances that give him no control of everything. The death of an innocent child, accidents, and plans that were never materialize despite the efforts that man exerted- all these are uncontrollable instances. Man seems cannot hold everything. Uncontrollable events cannot be comprehended by human mind. The deepness of the meaning of the event is not easy to understand. He cannot be certain of the reason why such event happened. In this point, man’s innate attitude of searching for Higher Being becomes notable. When everything left to be complicated, man moves to search for a reason or purpose why such event took place in his life.

St. Augustine as a Christian philosopher understands reality always in relation to God. His understanding of reality would never be isolated with his understanding of God. God for him is the Ground of all truth (Copleston, 1950). St. Augustine found truth through introspection (inward thinking). In knowing ourselves and in knowing that man can know the truth, he is led to affirm the existence of God. It is only in God that one could find truth. In searching for truth, St. Augustine regarded sensation as a way of acquiring truth. Senses never lie or deceive if human being is just true of what he feel or see. If corporeal things are taken as corporeal things then there will be no problem. If man sees a green chair then he should say that the chair appears green to him. In that sense, he is faithful to the senses. Senses are mutable things (Copleston, 1950).

In this light, human person as described by St. Augustine, is a rational soul using a mortal and earthly body (Teske, 2001). The soul is in possession of a body but does not consist of two persons but one man. The soul being superior to the body cannot be acted on by the body, but it perceives the changes in the body due to an external stimulus. The soul of human person apprehends indestructible truth, which shows that it is itself indestructible. The human person consists of soul and body can reason and can know the truth unlike the soul of an animal. This soul is created by God. In this manner, human person always reaches out to his creator in order for him to determine himself. Human person do not have the capacity to fully understand himself and others without the illumination of Transcendent Light (God), as contrary to the first paragraph of this essay which expresses man’s superiority. Human person having soul should go beyond corporeal entities in order to find bliss which is one of human’s purposes in life according to St. Augustine. If human person will insist to determine himself, it will just end up in following a path that will mislead him to his Creator.

Bibliography

2001.The Cambridge companion to Augustine, Edited by Kretzman, N. and Stump, E., The Press Syndicate of the University of Cambridge, UK.

Copleston, F., (1950). A history of philosophy (Mediaeval Philosophy Part I :Augustine to Bonaventure) Volume II., Newman Press , USA.

2012-09-27T03:18:00.000-07:00

Unconventional Marriage

Verses for Ayah, my philo.

Warrior-

adjective

that perfectly describes us a couple.

We were born having differences in

nature

And

nurtured

differently within social structure.

However, opposites attract

as they say.

Indeed, it’s true, isn’t it?

We are complimentary

coffee and

its

creamer.

blend perfectly.

We are courageous enough

to be married

in a very

unconventional way.

We deemed each other as a

couple

long before we were officially on

as boyfriend and girlfriend.

Then the decision to get married came.

Then the realization of our plan,

It’s not easy.

Having no

Parental support and

High-paying job.

But what else we could do?

want to pursue our plan.

are driven by our desire.

have to make money using our skills.

spend and live each day below our income.

learn to value every centavo .

No more

coffee shop.

buying of new books.

dining-out.

And we lessen our outdoor activities.

We settled for street and home-cooked foods.

I am proud that every centavo that

we spend in our wedding

is our hard-earned money.

We have the unconventional setting.

We don’t

live under one roof

sleep together

eat together

see each other everyday or anytime we want.

We don’t mind getting married despite

the fact that anytime soon,

we will be away from each other

I have to fulfill

my dream

in foreign land.

I will be leaving.

I’m doing this fora

myself

you

and to our future child.

Don’t worry, we would be together one day

perhaps here

in foreign land.

This is not a conventional way of getting married

but this is our choice.

Let’s face the future together, Ayah.

Ibu

2012-03-02T19:37:00.002-08:00

Asymptote


Eye meets eye
Before you put
   Those shades on.
    I looked away
     knowing our world
      Could be so small.
       I hate the current situation
        that hinders me to talk to you
          So I won't talk to you.
           And neither would you.
       But the sudden twist of fate
        Brought us together
         Giving us a chance
         To be lovers.
           You tried;
            You invited me on a date
             You listened to my nonsensical stories
              You were there when I needed someone to talk to.
               But the spark that used to burn the air
                Lost its flame already.
                 Maybe we could never be lovers.
                  We are friends
                   And maybe we would
                   Always just be.

Verses for Kumpan

27th of February, 2012

T.C

2012-03-02T19:30:00.000-08:00

Playing Safe

The lips of romance

is just a breath away

from friendship

Too close that they could

Almost touch each other.

But this thin line of detachment,

Too thin that only one move

Changes the story completely.

So you move away,

Keep your distance,

Remain where you stand,

Afraid to cross the line,

Afraid that it could be

One wrong move,

Because you know

That when love fails,

You can't be

Back to the safety

Of the predictable

Yet stagnant

State of friendship.

feb. 27, 2012

verses for Kumpan

First philosophical story that I read in college (2007)

2012-03-02T18:22:00.000-08:00

Love is a Fallacy

Max Shulman

Cool was I and logical. Keen, calculating, perspicacious, acute --- I was all of these. My brain was as powerful as a dynamo, as a chemist's scales, as penetrating as a scalpel. And - think of it! - I was only eighteen. It is not often that one so young has such a giant intellect. Take, for example, Petey Burch my roommate at the University of Minnesota. Same age, same background, but dumb as an ox. A nice enough fellow, you understand, but nothing upstairs. Emotional type. Unstable. Impressionable. Worst of all, a faddist. Fads, I submit, are the very negation of reason. To be swept up in every new craze that comes along, to surrender oneself to idiocy just because everybody else is doing it - this to me, is the acme of mindlessness. Not, however, to Petey.

One afternoon I found Petey lying on his bed with an expression of such distress on his face that I immediately diagnosed appendicitis. "Don't move," I said, "Don't take a laxative. I'll get a doctor."

"Raccoon," he mumbled thickly.

"Raccoon?" I said, pausing in my flight.

"I want a raccon coat," he wailed.

I perceived that his trouble was not physical but mental. "Why do you want a raccoon coat?"

"I should have known it," he cried, pounding hie temples.

"I should have known it they'd come back when the Charleston came back. Like a fool I spent all my money for textbook, and now I can't get a raccoon coat."

"Can you mean," I said incredulously," that people are actually wearing raccoon coats again?"

"All the Big Men on Campus are wearing them. Where've you been?"

"In the library," I said, naming a place not frequented by Big Men on Campus.

He leaped from the bed and paced the room. "I've got to have a raccoon coat," he said passionately. "I've got to!"

"Petey, why? Look at it rationally. Raccoon coats are unsanitary. They shed. They smell bad. They weigh too much. They're unsightly. They..."

"You don't understand," he interrupted, impatiently. "It's the thing to do. Don't you want to be in the swim?"

"No," I said truthfully "Well, I do," he declared. "I'd give anything for a raccoon coat. Anything!"

My brain, that precision instrument, slipped into high gear. "Anything?" I asked, looking at him narrowly.

"Anything," he affirmed in ringing tones.

I stroked my chin thoughtfully. It so happened that I knew where to get my hands on a raccoon coat. My father had had one in his undergraduate days; it lay now in a trunk in the attic back home. It also happened that Petey had something I wanted. He didn't have it exactly, but at least he had first rights on it. I refer to his girl, Polly Espy.

I had long coveted Polly Espy. Let me emphasize that my desire for this young woman was not emotional in nature. She was, to be sure, a girl who excited the emotions, but I was not one to let my heart rule my head. I wanted Polly For a shrewdly calculated, entirely cerebral reason.

I was a freshman in law school. In a few years I would be out in practice. I was well aware of the importance of the right kind of wife in furthering a lawyer's career. The successful lawyers I had observed were, almost without exception, married to beautiful, gracious, intelligent women. With one omission, Polly fitted these specifications perfectly.

Beautiful she was. She was not yet of pin-up proportions, but I felt that time would supply the lack. She already had the makings.

Gracious she was. By gracious I mean full of graces. She had an erectness of carriage, an ease of bearing, a poise that clearly indicated the best of breeding. At table her manners were exquisite. I had seen her at the Kozy Kampus Korner eating the specialty of the house - a sandwich that contained scraps of pot roast, gravy, chopped nuts, and a dipper of sauerkraut - without even getting her fingers moist.

Intelligent she was not. In fact, she veered in the opposite direction. But I believed that under my guidance she would smarten up. At any rate, it was worth a try. It is, after all, easier to make a beautiful dumb girl smart than to make an ugly smart girl beautiful.

"Petey," I said, "are you in love with Polly Espy?"

"I think she's a keen kid," he replied, "but I don't know if you call it love. Why?"

"Do you," I asked, "have any kind of formal arrangement with her? I mean are you going steady or anything like that?"

"No. We see each other quite a bit, but we both have other dates. Why?"

"Is there," I asked, "any other man for whom she has a particular fondness?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

I nodded with satisfaction. "In other words, if you were out of the picture, the field would be open. Is that right?"

"I guess so. What are you getting at?"

"Nothing , nothing," I said innocently, and took my suitcase out the closet.

"Where are you going?" asked Petey.

"Home for weekend." I threw a few things into the bag.

"Listen," he said, clutching my arm eagerly, "while you're home, you couldn't get some money from your old man, could you , and lend it to me so I can buy a raccoon coat?"

"I may do better than that," I said with a mysterious wink and closed my bag and left.

"Look," I said to Petey when I got back Monday morning. I threw open the suitcase and revealed the huge, hairy, gamy object that my father had worn in his Stutz Bearcat in 1925.

"Holy Toledo!" said Petey reverently. He plunged his hands into the raccoon coat and then his face. "Holy Toledo!" he repeated fifteen or twenty times.

"Would you like it?" I asked.

"Oh yes!" he cried, clutching the greasy pelt to him. Then a canny look came into his eyes. "What do you want for it?"

"Your girl" I said, mincing no words.

"Polly?" he said in a horrified whisper. "You want Polly?"

"That's right."

He shook his head.

I shrugged. "Okay. If you don't want to be in the swim, I guess it's your business.

I sat down in a chair and pretended to read a book, but out of the corner of my eye I kept watching Petey. He was a torn man. First he looked at the coat with the expression of waif at a bakery window. Then he turned away and set his jaw resolutely. Then he looked back at the coat, with even more longing in his face. Then he turned away, but with not so much resolution this time. Back and forth his head swiveled, desire waxing, resolution waning. Finally he didn't turn away at all; he just stood and stared with mad lust at the coat.

"It isn't as though I was in love with Polly," he said thickly. "Or going steady or anything like that."

"That's right," I murmured.

"What's Polly to me, or me to Polly?"

"Not a thing," said I.

"It's just been a casual kick - just a few laughs, that's all."

"Try on the coat," said I.

He compiled. The coat bunched high over his ears and dropped all the way down to his shoe tops. He looked like a mound of dead raccoons. "Fits fine," he said happily.

I rose from my chair. "Is it a deal?" I asked, extending my hand. He swallowed. "It's a deal," he said and shook my hand.

I had my first date with Polly the following evening. This was in the nature of a survey. I wanted to find out just how much work I had to get her mind up to the standard I required. I took her first to dinner.

"Gee, that was a delish dinner," she said as we left the restaurant.

And then I took her home. "Gee, I had a sensaysh time," she said as she bade me good night.

I went back to my room with a heavy heart. I had gravely underestimated the size of my task. This girl's lack of information was terrifying. Nor would it be enough merely to supply her with information. First she had to be taught to "think". This loomed as a project of no small dimensions, and at first I was tempted to give her back to Petey.

But then I got to thinking about her abundant physical charms and about the way she entered a room and the way she handled a knife and fork, and I decided to make an effort.

I went about it, as in all things, systematically. I gave her a course in logic. It happened that I, as a law student, was taking a course in logic myself, so I had all the facts at my fingertips. "Polly,: I said in to Her when I picked her up on our next date, tonight we are going over to the Knoll and talk.

"Oo, terrif," she replied. One thing I will say for this girl: you would go far to find another so agreeable.

We went to the Knoll, the campus trysting place, and we sat down under an old oak, and she looked at me expectantly. "What are we going to talk about?" she asked.

"Logic."

She thought this over for a minute and decided she liked it. "Magnif," she said.

Logic," I said, clearing my throat, "is the science of thinking. Before we can think correctly, we must first learn to recognize the common fallacies of logic. These we will take up tonight."

"Wow-dow!" she cried, clapping her hands delightedly.

I winced, but went bravely on. "First let us examine the fallacy called Dicto Simpliciter."

"By all means," she urged, batting her lashes eagerly.

"Dicto Simpliciter means an argument based on an unqualified generalization. For example: Exercise is good. Therefore everybody should exercise."

"Polly," I said gently, "the argument is a fallacy. Exercise is good is an unqualified generalization. For instance, if you have heart disease, exercise is bad, not good. Therefore exercise is bad, not good. Many people are ordered by their doctors not to exercise. You must qualify the generalization. You must say exercise is usually good, or exercise is good for most people. Otherwise you have committed a Dicto Simpliciter. Do you see?"

"No," she confessed. "But this is marvy. Do more! Do more!"

"It will be better if you stop tugging at my sleeve," I told her, and when she desisted, I continued. "Next we take up a fallacy called Hasty Generalization. Listen carefully: You can't speak French. Petey Burch can't speak French. I must therefore conclude that nobody at the University of Minnesota can speak French."

"Really?" said Polly, amazed. "Nobody?"

I hid my exasperation. "Polly, it's a fallacy. The generalization is reached too hastily. There are too few instance to support such a conclusion."

Know any more fallacies?" she asked breathlessly. "This is more fun than dancing, even."

I fought off a wave of despair. I was getting no where with this girl, absolutely no where. Still, I am nothing, if not persistent. I continued. "Next comes Post Hoc. Listen to this: Let's not take Bill on our picnic. Every time we take it out with us, it rains."

"I know somebody just like that," she exclaimed. "A girl back home - Eula Becker, her name is. It never fails. Every single time we take her on a picnic..."

"Polly," I said sharply, "it's a fallacy. Eula Becker doesn't cause the rain. She has no connection with the rain. You are guilty of Post Hoc if you blame Eula Becker."

"I'll never do it again," she promised contritely. "Are you mad at me?"

I sighed deeply. "No, Polly, I'm not mad."

"Then tell me some more fallacies."

"All right. Let's try Contradictory Premises."

"Yes, let's," she chirped, blinking her eyes happily.

I frowned, but plunged ahead. "Here's an example of Contradictory Premises: If God can do anything, can He make a stone so heavy that He won't be able to lift it?"

"Of course," she replied promptly.

"But if He can do anything, He can lift the stone," I pointed out.

"Yeah," she said thoughtfully. "Well, then I guess He can't make the stone."

"But He can do anything," I reminded her.

She scratched her pretty, empty head. "I'm all confused," she admitted.

"Of course you are. Because when the premises of an argument contradict each other, there can be no argument. If there is an irresistible force, there can be no immovable object. If there is an immovable object, there can be no irresistible force. Get it?"

"Tell me more of this keen stuff," she said eagerly.

I consulted my watch. "I think we'd better call it a night. I'll take you home now, and you go over all the things you've learned. We'll have another session tomorrow night."

I deposited her at the girls' dormitory, where she assured me that she had had a "perfectly" evening, and I went glumly home to my room. Petey lay snoring in his bed, the raccoon coat huddled like a great hairy beast at his feet. For a moment I considered waking him and telling him that he could have his girl back. It seemed clear that my project was doomed to failure. The girl simply had a logic-proof head.

But then I reconsidered. I had wasted one evening; I might as well waste another. Who knew? Maybe somewhere in the extinct crater of her mind, a few members still smoldered. Maybe somehow I could fan them into flame. Admittedly it was not a prospect fraught with hope, but I decided to give it one more try.

Seated under the oak the next evening I said, "Our first fallacy tonight is called Ad Misericordiam."

She quivered with delight.

"Listen closely," I said. "A man applies for a job. When the boss asks him what his qualifications are, he has a wife and six children at home, the wife is a helpless cripple, the children have nothing to eat, no clothes to wear, no shoes on their feet, there are no beds in the house, no coal in the cellar, and winter is coming."

A tear rolled down each of Polly's pink cheeks. "Oh, this is awful, awful," she sobbed.

"Yes, it's awful," I agreed, "but it's no argument. The man never answered the boss's question about his qualifications. Instead he appealed to the boss's sympathy. He committed the fallacy of Ad Misericordiam. Do you understand?"

"Have you got a handkerchief?" she blubbered.

I handed her a handkerchief and tried to keep from screaming while she wiped her eyes. "Next," I said in a carefully controlled tone, "we will discuss False Analogy. Here is an example: Students should be allowed to look at their textbooks during examination. After all, surgeons have X rays to guide them during a trial, carpenters have blueprints to guide them when they are building a house. Why, then, shouldn't students be allowed to look at their textbooks during examination?"

"There now," she said enthusiastically, "is the most marvy idea I've heard in years."

"Polly," I said testily, "the argument is all wrong. Doctors, lawyers, and carpenters aren't taking a test to see how much they have learned, but students are. The situations are altogether different, and you can't make an analogy between them."

"I still think it's a good idea," said Polly.

"Nuts," I muttered. Doggedly I pressed on. "Next we'll try Hypothesis Contrary to Fact."

"Sounds yummy," was Polly's reaction.

"Listen: If Madame Curie had not happened to leave a photographic plate in a drawer with a chunk of pitchblende, the world today would not know about radium."

"True, true," said Polly, nodding her head "Did you see the movie? Oh, it just knocked me out. That Walter Pidgeon is so dreamy. I mean he fractures me."

"If you can forget Mr. Pidgeon for a moment," I said coldly, "I would like to point out that statement is a fallacy. Maybe Madame Curie would have discovered radium at some later date. Maybe somebody else would have discovered it. Maybe any number of things would have happened. You can't start with a hypothesis that is not true and then draw any supportable conclusions from it."

"They ought to put Walter Pidgeon in more pictures," said Polly, "I hardly ever see him any more."

One more chance, I decided. But just one more. There is a limit to what flesh and blood can bear. "The next fallacy is called Poisioning the Well."

"How cute!" she gurgled.

"Two men are having a debate. The first one gets up and says, 'My opponent is a notorious liar. You can't believe a word that he is going to say.' ... Now, Polly, think hard. What's wrong?"

I watched her closely as she knit her creamy brow in concentration. Suddenly a glimmer of intelligence -- the first I had seen -- came into her eyes. "It's not fair," she said with indignation. "It's not a bit fair. What chance has the second man got if the first man calls him a liar before he even begins talking?"

"Right!" I cried exultantly. "One hundred per cent right. It's not fair. The first man has poisoned the well before anybody could drink from it. He has hamstrung his opponent before he could even start ... Polly, I'm proud of you."

"Pshaws," she murmured, blushing with pleasure.

"You see, my dear, these things aren't so hard. All you have to do is concentrate. Think-examine-evaluate. Come now, let's review everything we have learned."

"Fire away," she said with an airy wave of her hand.

Heartened by the knowledge that Polly was not altogether a cretin, began a long, patient review of all I had told her. Over and over and over again I cited instances, pointed out flaws, kept hammering away without letup. It was like digging a tunnel. At first, everything was work, sweat, and darkness. I had no idea when I would reach the light, or even if I would. But I persisted. I pounded and clawed and scraped, and finally I was rewarded. I saw a chink of light. And then the chink got bigger and the sun came pouring in and all was bright.

Five grueling nights with this book was worth it. I had made a logician out of Polly; I had taught her to think. My job was done. She was worthy of me, at last. She was a fit wife for me, a proper hostess for many mansions, a suitable mother for my well-heeled children.

It must not be thought that I was without love for this girl. Quite the contrary. Just as Pygmalion loved mine. I determined to acquaint her with feelings at our very next meeting. The time had come to change our relationship from academic to romantic.

"Polly," I said when next we sat beneath our oak, "tonight we will not discuss fallacies."

"Aw, gee," she said, disappointed.

"My dear," I said, favoring her with a smile, "we have now spent five evenings together. We have gotten along splendidly. It is clear that we are well matched."

"Hasty Generalization," said Polly brightly.

"I beg your pardon," said I.

"Hasty Generalization," she repeated. "How can you say that we are well matched on the basis of only five dates?"

I chuckled with amusement. The dear child had learned her lessons well. "My dear," I said, patting her hand in a tolerant manner, "five dates is plenty. After all, you don't have to eat a whole cake to know that it's good."

"False Analogy," said Polly promptly. "I'm not a cake. I'm a girl."

I chuckled with somewhat less amusement. The dear child had learned her lessons perhaps too well. I decided to change tactics. Obviously the best approach was a simple, strong, direct declaration of love. I paused for a moment while my massive brain chose the proper word. Then I began:

"Polly, I love you. You are the whole world to me, and the moon and the stars and the constellations of outer space. Please, my darling, say that you will go steady with me, for if you will not, life will be meaningless. I will languish. I will refuse my meals. I will wander the face of the earth, a shambling, hollow-eyed hulk."

There, I thought, folding my arms, that ought to do it.

"Ad Misericordiam," said Polly.

I ground my teeth. I was not Pygmalion; I was Frankenstein, and my monster had me by the throat. Frantically I fought back the tide of panic surging through me,. at all costs I had to keep cool.

"Well, Polly," I said, forcing a smile, "you certainly have learned your fallacies."

"You're darn right," she said with a vigorous nod.

"And who taught them to you, Polly?"

"You did."

"That's right. So you do owe me something, don't you, my dear? If I hadn't come along you never would have learned about fallacies."

"Hypothesis Contrary to Fact," she said instantly.

I dashed perspiration from my brow. "Polly," I croaked, "you mustn't take all these things so literally. I mean this is just classroom stuff. You know that the things you learn in school don't have anything to do with life."

"Dicto Simpliciter," she said, wagging her finger at me playfully.

That did it. I leaped to my feet, bellowing like a bull. "Will you or will you not go steady with me?"

"I will not," she replied.

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Because this afternoon I promised Petey Burch that I would go steady with him."

I reeled back, overcome with the infamy of it. After he promised, after he made a deal, after he shook my hand! "The rat!" I shrieked, kicking up great chunks of turf. "You can't go with him, Polly. He's a liar. He's a cheat. He's a rat."

"Poisoning the Well ," said Polly, "and stop shouting. I think shouting must be a fallacy too."

With an immense effort of will, I modulated my voice. "All right," I said. "You're a logician. Let's look at this thing logically. How could you choose Petey Burch over me? Look at me --- a brilliant student, a tremendous intellectual, a man with an assured future. Look at Petey -- a knothead, a jitterbug, a guy who'll never know where his next meal is coming from. Can you give me one logical reason why you should go steady with Petey Burch?"

"I certainly can," declared Polly. "He's got a raccoon coat."

2012-02-12T09:01:00.003-08:00

playing with black and white and muted colors-not a hard sell level

Passion rekindled

2011-06-08T17:26:00.000-07:00

Almost all names have distinct origin so as with my pseudonym "Socrarest". It is composed of two syllables socra and rest. This word was first coined by my classmate when I was still in Philosophy programme. Socra came from the name of a Greek philosopher Socrates. We were hardly detached of Socratic wisdom which says that the unexamined life is not worth living. It was not easy for me to detach from the readings and discussions due to the dedicated teacher that we had, Ma'am M. I was then called "little Montojo" because I was terribly attached to our teacher. It was evident in my account in facebook, blog, and skype. I carried "Montojo" as my last name. Socra symbolizes the other half of my self which is a frustrated philosophy graduate. It was a frustration but later on I realized that in life, you can't be what you really wanted to be. I humbly accept the truth that I am not for philosophy diploma. However, the love for philosophy did not end when I shifted to another programme. It's dormant, like a volcano. After spending a year and a half with my new course in college, unfavorable circumstances take place. I have to stop schooling for one semester. Two months of introspection and I finally decided to grant my mother's request. Being in our home always, I am again acquainted with my books and photocopies of articles that I have during my college days. Boredom ignited me to read articles in philosophy. I was rejuvenated. It's like an oasis amidst the desert. I have life again.

The other part of which is represented by "rest" is a woman who is not meant to stay too long in a particular place and relationship. My heart is wandering. At present, I am still searching for my place under the sun. The insatiable quest for knowledge of all the stuffs that can be known continually drives me to search for a place where I truly belong. It may seems that I do not have plans in life, with all honesty, I agree. I just have a gantt chart, the one that I have used in my research course. No matter how good my 10-point argument is, people around me would never cease to criticize how I handle my life. I do not disregard others' observation but I put premium on what I know about my self. I believe it's more vital than what others think of me. Criticism is only constructive when it is objective.