Bottled ※ Brain

Much has happened last week, and I haven’t written about them because my dorm’s internet connection wasn’t exactly connected to the world wide web. It was due to some reason I couldn’t figure out, and even if it were connected, I still wouldn’t find the time—I had lots of things to finish and to study. In a way, internet deprivation was something to be thankful for: it restored my focus. Anyway, the Lord has just taught me a lot of things. For that, and for everything, I’m forever grateful. While I was having my quiet moment with him, I asked Him many things concerning the anxieties that dulled my vision and the concerns that troubled me. I was so overwhelmed when He directed me to Psalm 107 22 – 31. These are a few things He has taught me: 1. Be humble. It occurs to me that humans are desperately proud. We think we can do anything with our lives, that with enough skill and perseverance—and a little rain of luck—we can become successful. But that’s not how it is in real life. The real

Lord, help me as I answer each question. Remind me, Lord, that I can do nothing without Your help. Teach me to trust in You alone, especially in times when I don't know what to do. I know that You are sovereign and all-knowing; that even while being in control of the entire universe, You too are still in control of my daily affairs, no matter how minute they may seem. I do not ask that You give me high scores or high grades, but I do ask that You accomplish whatever it is that You know is best for me and for Your glory. Even as I get out of that room, I pray that You grant me words of thanksgiving and praise for Your goodness. May I glorify You, and not myself, as I humbly submit to Your will and purpose for me. Thy will be done! Amen.

I took the hundred-point quiz, got confused, popped a question in mid-air, "Are you asking about an old or young dicot root?"and got a surprisingly shocking answer. "It's supposed to be old root ," Ma'am Sumugat said; she then wrote something on the blackboard, went back to her desk, and then added, with a wide, mysterious grin directed at me, "O, and I read your blog." "You did?" I croaked, then gulped whatever it was that my salivary glands could produce at that moment. I asked myself, "Did I write something awful about her?" Ma'am, if you're reading this, I say, "Hello!"

Believers of Jesus Christ are the sons of God. This, in a shortened form, is the meaning of the Doctrine of the Sonship of the Believers. We note that in Galatians 4:6, Paul distinctly mentions the three Divine Persons in the Godhead and each of Their special modes of operation. The Father caused us to be reborn (1 Pet. 1:3); the Son died for us to accomplish this rebirth (Rom 6: 3 – 8); the Holy Spirit sanctifies, preserves, and assures us that we are indeed the children of God. This truth—so powerful and deep—must be treated with complete reverence. Acknowledging this should cause us to fall prostrate in thanksgiving and worship. How do we become children of God? To answer this question, we should note that the phrase, “children of God,” has two connotations—the first one is that all men are His children in the sense that He created them; the second is that some men are His children in a spiritual sense. Not all the men He created are His spiritual children—only some of them. And so

Now I'm calmer, more collected, and it seems like logic has creeped into my senses again—though I presume it's not going to be this way for a long time. It's been almost a week—six days, to be exact—since I had last written about my going to SM (it's where the cinema is) to watch The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe . And I needed six days to process everything: the movie has reeled into my head like crazy, and the scenes in my mind don't stop playing until I immerse myself in other thought-provoking activities, like studying. I'm not going to give a detailed review of the movie. To do so would require that one should have watched a million movies already so as to give a good tongue-lashing (it's common to see people thinking of good reviews as rants) and to be able to compare this and that movie with all the other movies that one has watched. I must say that my movie-watching habit is limited to the CDs my brother buys or those shown on HBO or those recomme

"Lance, I'm really going to start a blog now." "But I thought you hated blogs?" "Well...." "Just don't use Blogger. There are so many of us already. Use Modblog or Blogdrive or Livejournal intead. I hear they're user-friendly." "But I want Blogger." "You really lack originality, Manong." "Of course not! Know what? I even have a name for my blog." "What is it? Make sure it's short and catchy and absolutely not corny. And don't ever think of using mine." " Glassed . It's going to be named glassed. And the tagline: Better than bottles ."

I've been postponing the writing of this entry. I guess the most difficult things to write about are those which happen to us rarely, and thus leave defined imprints in our memory. But here I am, writing this one, hoping that someday, years from now, I would still feel this excitement, undiminished by time. I'm going to watch The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe today, for the first time in my life, since it's really the first time it will be shown in Manila theatres. Unless you've been secluded from the real world, hiding in dark, moist caves in an isolated island, you should know that it's a movie based on the children story series by C. S. Lewis, one of my favorite writers of all time. I began reading the first book, The Magician's Nephew , almost a year ago. The books were borrowed from the Church's library: I applied for a card primarily to do that. My roommate, Jason, knows very well how often I would exclaim, often in lucid intervals, about how Lewis

Like a beast whose cage has been unlocked, he finds his way out excitedly. Somewhere must be hope. He wanted to start things anew; and yet, he is not too sure if he could because his dark, brutal past haunts him: in his dreams, in the faces of the people he bumps into, in the TV shows he watches nightly, in the voices that echo in his mind when he is alone. Wala lang . I just wanted to exercise the other part of my brain...you know, just to see if it still functions. You may also notice that I've replaced the encoded subheaders at the sidebar with my own personal handwriting. I did these during my free time, right after my exam. I was supposed to go to the Church's Youth prayer retreat, but I wasn't able to. It's a long story. Thank God, the supposed creative part of my brain still functions after all--after all those calculations!

Picture this scene that happened this afternoon: Chem 26.1 lab disusssion, Sir Greg talking about Le Chatelier's Principle, equilibrium and methyl orange indicators, everyone at the brink of sleep. "Have you discussed buffers?" He asked us. The class's answer was unanimous, "Not yet." "But I do know that Thailand became a buffer state," I told my seatmates. " Buffer ... buffer the vampire slayer," I heard Juanchi said, out of the blue, like he always does. "Buffer, the bumper sticker," I muttered to myself.

While the rest of the living world celebrated the dawning of the New Year, while the rest of the Filipino nation lighted fireworks, exploded firecrackers (and destroyed their extremities by so doing), made deafening noise, and listened to fortune-tellers who only talked nonsense, I was inside my boat cabin, asleep. That’s how I almost always welcome the New Year: in dreams. The slow, lulling movements of the ship was soporific: it was impossible not to have heavy, watery eyes as I sat on my bed. It was only nine o’ clock when I drifted to dreamland. When I woke up, it was a brand new year altogether. And then thoughts came rushing through me. Thoughts of the past years, the things that have happened to me, the lessons I’ve learned, the growth that I’ve gone through. My devotion that day was centered on Psalm 103—truly one of my favorite psalms in the Bible—and it made me wonder how long I could talk to the Lord without asking for anything. Psalm 103 has no requests; it is nothing but p