Beyond that, I recently caught sight of the Hyperbolic Coral Exhibition whilst at a meeting at the South Bank Centre, huge chandelier-like freeform, uh, woolly structures hanging from the ceiling - that is some crucial crochet. They even have crochet sessions (bring yr own needles) but its really hard by the looks of things. The exhibition forms part of an initiative by this LA aesthete group called The Institute of Figuring to draw attention to Coral Reefs around the world being ruined by pollution and overdevelopment. The ones we saw in Cairns did actually look fluffy underwater, they were amazing. The Hyperbolic part of it - from I understand the way Coral grows can be defined by an equation, meaning the form can be replicated by humans, in a furry way...

So this, translates to this:

Hyperbolic Coral runs until Sunday 17th August, check out more pictures of it on Flickr - here!

Years after those hours of tedious self-instructions, I found myself very thankful that I had the sense to make my spare time productive by trying to learn things that, during those times, had seemed daunting (hence, better left to the real artists) and even useless. Not only was I eventually able to create passable designs for simple invitations and even coffee table books for family and close friends, but my little knowledge of the process also tremendously helped me perform my job when I got to a publication where, from time to time, there arose the need for me to know what is visually appealing and what is not.

But that is not all that I am thankful for. There is also something in the process of image editing that helped me better grasp the idea that there is a great design of things, of which we only see a part because of our limited perceptions.

Let me elaborate.

There are times when, as I work on an image that need to be retouched or edited, say a picture of a smiling girl holding a bouquet of flowers but whose arm is smudged with few patches of dirt — nothing that simple editing cannot correct — I need to zoom in the object to have a much closer view of the part that need to be edited.

Looking at the object this close and seeing just the part I need to work on, it often seems to me that the part I am looking at doesn’t make sense at all. There are moments when I have a hard time imagining how that particular part is related to the whole object, even if I know what it is, having seen it in its entirety before zooming in the image.

I zoom in the object some more, and it becomes blurry and all the more senseless. It looks like just some pixels or dots thrown in together at random, with no connection with one another whatsoever. At this view, it is hard to connect the pixels and imagine what they might form.

Then I zoom the object out a little, and a little more, and I get a clearer view of the part I am viewing on my computer screen. I will now recognize it as a part of something, although at this view, I may still not see it as what it really is in connection to the whole picture — how indispensable this part may be to the whole.

I zoom the image out once more and, now seeing the whole picture again, I see what the part exactly is, how it is connected to the whole picture, and just how relevant it is. Then I start feeling like an idiot for failing to recognize it and make sense out of it when I was looking at it at “close range.”

There are still times when I find the time to sit down in front of my computer and do some image corrections. But even now, I am still mesmerized each time I get on with this process of zooming in and zooming out, especially when I connect it with the idea I adhere to when trying to grasp life and its many mysteries. Each time I do this process, or think of it, I see some sort of parallelism between how differently we view an image when we see it up close, focusing only on a single part, and when we see it in its entirety; and how differently we view a life event when we are in the thick of it, and when we are simply observing it from a distance.

When something happens and we are personally involved, or someone close to us is, it is often hard to see things more objectively. We tend to be emotional and subjective. But when we aren’t involved, we can be more objective and are more able to keep our emotions in check.

There are also times when, as something is happening, we don’t understand what it means no matter how hard we try to analyze the events leading to it. Then, at a much later date, in some mysterious way or another, we get to understand what happened, how it happened, and why it happened. And as understanding dawn upon us, we say, “Ah! Kaya pala!”

So yes, I am thankful that I know a little about tinkering with images. Because with this little knowledge that I have, I understand that like everyone else, I may also have a limited perspective of things. And every time I sit down and work on an image, I am reminded that in many instances, I may not be seeing things in their proper perspective; that all I may be seeing is just a part or several parts of a whole. So I am more open to other people’s ideas —understanding them, analyzing them, testing them — instead of dismissing them outright. And so I write this piece, realizing that all I am presenting may just be a part or an aspect of a whole.

//Sherma E. Benosa

27 October 2007; 2:01am

This sparked off a flurry of messages and phone calls from many ex-colleagues and I was updated almost hourly about the patient's condition, who's visiting her at what time and how various people are reacting to the situation. Every day for four days, I received messages that went along the lines of "she might not make it through today. If you had some heart, you'd come and see her."

I felt like a cold, heartless beast because I wasn't affected by the news. The truth is, this ex-colleague was not around most of the time when I was in the office and we hardly spoke to each other. My concern and empathy went to the ex-colleagues who had worked with her for a longer time and her family who would have shared laughter and meaningful moments with her.

Although I kept telling myself not to interrupt her last living hours on earth with her loved ones, I gave in to peer pressure and made my way to the hospital with Vish, who was relatively close to her.

She couldn't recognise me. She pointed at me and mumbled through her oxygen mask, "I don't remember you." I went forward to hold her cold hand and she was stunned, as if a stranger had touched her. Vish took over thankfully, and she gripped his hand firmly as if she didn't want to let go. 

So there I was, feeling a little embarrassed and wondering why I went to the hospital to say goodbye to someone who didn't know me. I felt as if I had made an unwanted appearance in someone's personal drama.

As I stood in a corner watching the television in the ward and talking to some ex-colleagues, I couldn't help but wonder - with almost every TV drama having a protagonist who dies of leukemia nowadays, are we ourselves so badly starved of human experiences that make us feel that we feel compelled to create our own?

I felt like a bad person because my ex-colleagues couldn't accept that I had good reason not to go to the hospital. However, I left the hospital feeling even worse knowing that my visit made no difference whatsoever, and I had left a poor woman to wonder in her final waking moments, "who the hell is this person?"

I was fuming last night. You know when you think someone understands the entire situation inside out but doesn't get your reaction? Yeah, like that. I sat up, jabbing at random things as I made my points over the telephone, like some stupid debate. I laid back down, too tired to make him see.

Over the telephone, things become difficult.

I took deep breaths, trying to suppress the Incredible Hulkess in me. And then the breaths changed its purpose and I tried not to cry.

Does it not make sense why I'm angry?
No, I have every right to be!
Then why the hell is he making me sound completely ridiculous and demanding and the most horrible girlfriend?
... I hate it when he does that to me.

Imagine someone asking you for a favour. You ask them to meet you halfway. But they don't. They just make the same original demand.

HUH. Have they forgotten?

It wasn't merely a question of appreciation; it's more that he didn't try. Yeah, he has his reasons but he never told me. I have no way of knowing how he thinks or feels if he won't say a word, or when he says 'I don't wanna talk about it'. There's only so many lines you can read in between before you hit a dead end smack in the face. And then to just turn around and throw it all at me the night before? Of course I was angry!

Then we just cut it. I said I'd do it. And in between stilted words was deliberate silence. We said goodnight. The cable to my phone charger was tangled with my fingers and when I extricated myself, he was still on the line, quiet. Yeah, it was my turn.

'Hey..'
'Yeah?'
'I love you.'
'I was wondering if you were gonna say it.'

And that sent me to laughter. The Incredible Hulkess slowly faded away. I told him he wasn't to comment on my arse, and the jokes continued.

Over the telephone, things become simple.

If you will remember who you are, you will find your way through it.”

It’s been a long time since I came across this line. It was uttered by a character — the heroine’s father — in the prologue of one of my favorite books by Richard Paul Evans, “The Looking Glass.”

The first time I read the line, I did not grasp what it meant. For then, I did not yet understand what the father was trying to do. But when it was repeated toward the end of the book, my tears flowed freely like dam breaking free. Finally, I realized that the father was trying to save his daughter, Quaye. The line was the father’s desperate attempt to make his daughter understand that what he was to do was his only hope to save her.

And he did save his daughter. Quaye lived, and she did get through life.

There are times when I feel as though I were Quaye, and it was my father who had whispered those words to me. Since I read that line, many trials, big and small, had come my way. And this line had greatly helped me to get through them. Every time I had doubts, I would repeat that line in my head, and a stronger resolve come over me, allowing me to keep going.

As I continue with my journey, I know there will be humps I will have to pass through, diversions I may have to deal with, and dead ends around which I will have to try to find my way. There will be stopovers, and there will be accidents I may personally be involved in or simply witness. There will be times that I would stumble, and there will be moments I would feel too tired to go on with my journey.

But I believe, like Quaye, I will get everything that will come my way — intact, though scathed — because I have not forgotten one moment who I am and that I am loved.

I will keep walking on. Because for every slippery and unpaved road I need to pass through, there will also be sceneries whose unfolding I would witness. There will be friends I will meet along the way who will make my load seem lighter. There will be laughter and there will be music as there will be flowers blooming.

//Sherma E. Benosa

16 November 2007; 2:35pm

What's your favorite line (in a song, book, poem)? And why?

They always tangle or get knotted up!

I’m talking about the cords — those highly functional bits of strands without which we cannot turn on our gadgets unless they are battery operated. I untangle them every day, or every other day, but soon they will again be all tangled and knotted up. I keep thinking they simply have a habit of “messing” themselves up. Perhaps to annoy the impatient me? :-(

I also noticed that they tangle in a way that is not easy to fix. Often, for me to fix them, I will have to unplug one or all of them. It just wouldn’t do without some unplugging, which is a bit annoying when you are currently using the gadget to which they are attached. Like me, I use wired connection, so I often do not want to fix the tangled cords because I would lose my connection, which sometimes I need to do for me to get something else working, say my speaker which is plugged on the same socket.

So yeah, I sometimes think life is so much easier without these cords. But then, when I need them and I find that I don’t have them (like when I went home to Nueva Vizcaya last year and realized I did not have my PC charger) I realize I couldn’t properly work without them. Hah!  It’s during these moments that I realize just how much gadget-dependent I am. (But that is not really the point of the post, sorry.)

Back to tangling and untangling. This afternoon, as I crouched down to yet again untangle and unknot my cords, a thought hit me: cords are very much like us. No matter how careful we are, we always get caught up in tangles we never wanted to find ourselves in. And no matter how often we untangle ourselves, we just keep getting knotted up and tangled. I involuntarily shook my head at the idea.

I went on with my untangling; my fingers getting impatient every second. Then I realized that one of the cords had to be removed from the socket for me to completely untangle them. I proceeded to do just that. But then, I realized that if I do it, I would be unplugging my internet connection. Because I was working on something important, I decided not to untangle the cords yet and let them stay messed up until I finished what I was working on.

Needless to say, I paused with my untangling and continued with my work.

But now, as I look back to what transpired this afternoon, another thought hit me and it was this: “We tend to postpone fixing our lives because we think that our mess can wait until we are done with what we perceive to be more important. And, even when we know that we need to do some drastic measure to fix our lives, like uprooting something, we decide not to — or at least not just yet, until we are ready.

What do you think?

[PS: As I was typing my wrap-up question, an idea hit me (yeah, again!): That perhaps the tangling/knotting up of my cords was not meant to annoy me, but to teach me a lesson on patience. Hmmm… that sounds like a better way of looking at it. ;-) ]

//Sherma E. Benosa

10 June 2008; 11:15pm

________________

PLUG: Latest at The Witten World – TELL ME YOUR SONG. 

Our intrepid citrus is out on his own.... Wow! all that freedom sure makes you thirsty!

i make others happy so that i can be happy
you can never please everybody
can i call you that?
you should never have to ask, if they're uncomfortable, they will tell you

the masterpieces of Gaia come from but one
yet the painter eludes and deludes
the day that it consumes you, seek help, that's all i ask
i will. i promise.

stubborn. anal-retentive.
labels are for canned food

The past toughens as glorious glass emulsify emotions.

You torment me with your subtleties.

But then it wouldn't be Grey's Anatomy if all that didn't happen in the show, now would it? Death is, well, death. Inevitable. I will not deny it, but to find myself one step closer to someone who eventually dies 30 minutes later is crushing. I suddenly realise that this character stops and I'll never see them again. They could be exactly like someone who was once really very much alive. And then life stops for these real people. All it takes is 30 minutes for the producers to reveal a character and his/her personality and vulnerabilities to me, and half an hour later, I feel as though I've really lost someone when they die in the show.

Yes, some people find Meredith's spiels annoying, but I enjoy it. Maybe it's cause I tend to waffle a lot too, and I've been told I go on severe rants. I don't care that Katherine Heigl reckons the writers give her material that isn't worthy of an Emmy. I used to love her character and think she's so me, and even though I like Izzie less now, I still relate to her in situations. The 'on-call room' scenes are foreign to me, but I'm lying if I say that I don't find them crazily amusing. I mean, they have the energy for sex after major life-changing surgeries?! Or even before? Bravo. And that elevator scene with Derek and his babes? Hahahahaa!

What I watched today though was different. I felt like I was scratched with something so raw and sharp so deeply but I didn't bleed. Instead I was amazed that something could be so beautiful, rare and exist, all at the same time. It's fictional, maybe. But it stared right out at me from my laptop screen, daring me to deny its purity. And I couldn't. I don't think anyone could.

'I'm not finished loving you."

It wasn't a fairy tale; it was just equally as untainted. There are times when you know you have to walk in with eyes closed, or you'll never have the guts to even take the first step. But to have the spirit and bravery to keep taking steps despite shutting your perfectly functioning eyes is something entirely different. To have the courage to hold onto a love that cannot be... it is so strong that I had to hold back my tears before it cascaded down in falls I wouldn't be able to control. I am in awe of the people that can do things I can't, but it's often things like these that go unnoticed.

It's not a first million-dollar cheque, or a mansion with a driveway that seems to lead to heaven. It's not towel rails made of pure gold. It's nothing of physical value which is why it slips by your eyes and fingers before you notice that this is what you were meant to know and realise but had lost sight of. No one can buy happiness or security or love. People don't put monetary value on those things for a damn good reason - because it simply can't be done.

Every step of the way, people take things for granted. I forget that an hour of my pay can feed a family of four for an entire day. I have these expectations and when I/others fall short, I am stuck with this disappointment at reality. But the truth is, I've got more to be thankful for and it is when I lose sight of that that I leave contentment behind, embarking on this journey of dissatisfactions.

"There's a bigger picture."

I am better than this. And so are you. We may slip from time to time but that's okay. It's entirely fine. We just need to remember to pick ourselves one more time. And realise that we have so much more to life than merely what we choose to see. It's what others can see in us. It's what we've lost track of over time. It's waking up in the morning and still recognising the person staring back at us in the mirror. It's about realising that sometimes the best things in life don't take physical form.

"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart" - Helen Keller

Don't say we didn't warn you...

The gym we go to is one for the older generation and if the fitness equipment wasn't there, you'd think it was a church. It is an amiable and non-intimidating venue for non-muscled twinks like me (and retirees) who are there just to get some basic exercise done.

There are occasionally the teenage or young adult hunks who saunter into the gym in their tank tops to make us all feel bad about ourselves, but they never stay for long after realising they're in the wrong place to show off.

The gym patrons know me officially as "Edwin's best friend who is gay and plays the piano". Surprisingly, they're more intrigued than disgusted and we're always invited to lunch, even though most of them don't know my name.

Today, Edwin and I were at a Japanese restaurant with five families, none of whose names I knew, and there it was - fathers talking among themselves about the economy and the prices of property, cars and oil; mothers complaining to me about their teenage daughters, asking me if it is normal for a girl to chat online until 4am; children bugging their parents for more sashimi.

Staring me in the face was a glimpse of the life that I'll never lead - there will be no children to complain about or stuff sashimi with. As I observed the busy parents and their equally busy children, I realised I was looking at a life I admired but ultimately found too full of drama to handle.

Then Edwin reminded me that it is I - the gay son (with possibly a boyfriend) - who will be living with the parents when my siblings get married and move out. My mum is unabashed about expecting this from me and while my dad says he doesn't need his gay son living with him, we all know he wants it. It's only a matter of time before our roles reverse, isn't it?

As I thought about living with my parents till death do us part, I realised that I'll probably be living the lives that were unfolding before me in the Japanese restaurant, though not entirely similar. My parents happen to love sashimi so since I know zilch about property and cars (maybe my future boyfriend will be well-versed in them),  I guess I'll be making numerous trips to the fish market. After all, I think I can handle a lifetime supply of raw fish for the people who raised and loved me despite my being a little different.

As fundamentals internalize, feel becomes your guide.  You increasingly find that easy flow of improvisation where confidence, trust and ability intersect  - that positive and productive state of mind & body working in perfect tune. 

The trick is to figure out what it is you need to let go of in order to get there... no matter the task.