Baguio, one rainy week May 8, 2009
Posted by bobbetrevilla in Angst, Social Construction.add a comment
One thing I’ve learned from the UP Baguio (UPB) Training on Qualitative Research is the changing landscape of our “social world.”
Dr. Carol Brady, well renowned socio-anthropologist from the College of Social Sciences-UPB, triggered this phenomenon by asking a series of questions that, to most of us, had been, all this time, taken-for-granted patch of reality.
Consider:
- If soldiers are women, can you still call them soldiers?
- If your mother is your father, can you call him a mother?
- Is veggie meat veggie or meat?
- Is coffee bad because of its caffeine content? But why now it is being heralded as an anti-oxidant?
Maybe these are contradictions of our times. Or simply, our social world is evolving. What may be taboo before are now taken as fact and part of life.
And this is something we can’t quantify. The sum total of behavior, emotions, angst, and wisdom that go with these can only be qualified. Numbers cannot fully characterize these paradigm shifts.
Yes, it is true then that our view of the world is only as good as our method or lens of seeing things. We must stop from mere quantifying. Because the world is also lost, maybe embedded, in words, reason, and values.
The senti face of Baguio
Coming to Baguio at a time when Summer was cut short brought about by the sudden, abrupt arrival of the rainy season, afforded us a view of the Pines City in its angst-ful sights of mist, fog, and sentiments.
It was a kind of clime where all you would want to do is to coil under the thick, cool blanket. And maybe read on the side, or dream on, ruminate, while being swayed to sleep by the sound of raindrops falling on the roof above you. It was a moment that’s better left to the imagination.
Silent Words, Wild Images October 17, 2008
Posted by bobbetrevilla in Social Construction, Visuals.add a comment
I have to stay the whole day at house. Had to postpone encoding of grades. Instead, in between eating, watching TV, and curing my allergy, I worked on my PDM requirements due tomorrow. It’s draining. The materials are all there but jelling things together makes the process difficult. Maybe because it’s too quanti. No matter how I qualify the procedure, I always go back to the numerical system. There should be rubrics, scales, and criteria. This makes things tiring and uninteresting. If you are a regular reader of this site, I believe you can feel my dilemma. I would love it if what I’m doing would bring me to world of meanings and interpretations.
Let me try on some more. Last Wednesday night, I took the liberty of taking pictures fresh from my boob tube and study. Guess what I’ve got?
My empty cup bereft of coffee. My glass container and Poetika mug. All silent witnesses to a late night worker who is me.
Plus, bonus shots: Doc Ferdz BTW footages. For once in my life I’d like to be adventurous. I’d like to be born wild, not tied up to my desk. Virtual reality is provided by TV captured by my lens. Enjoy these images.
Giving up one comfort a day (Batad reflections 2) September 15, 2008
Posted by bobbetrevilla in Social Construction.1 comment so far
14 September 2008, Sunday, 9.42 a.m.
Last night, we literally crawled up the mountain so we can reach our inn. Problem was, it was too dark. No flashlight. Our guide made us see ourselves through this seemingly dark tunnel. Teata led me through our trails like I was a blind groping for light and direction. What an adventure! We were happy to come home in our inn alive. We perspired like it was our last!
Back home, there’s much work to do. I know. Don’t want to think about that now. My present is suspended. My here-and-now could not speak of the future or what could come next. I love this suspension, truce. What is a day and a half of no contact to the outside world? Like a monk living a life of recluse. But when you’re in the heart of the mountain, you are the world, the world is around, in you.
Re-living the Lost experience
I re-lived the Lost experience here. Real life. I know now how Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Charlie, Hurley, John, Sayid felt the pangs of being lost right at the very heart of nowhere. Only here, the Others are friendly, not hostile. Ben Linus is not here. Folks here are kind, warm, trustworthy: from the porter to the tour guide and inn staff. All cordial, amiable, accommodating people.
Life is always in danger. Here. To a life used to security and predictable, safe mode, this is challenging, altering my routine many times over. I’ve learned how to be less secured here. Back home, I must learn, live through this lesson by heart. I must understand my comforts. Appreciate them more. Give up a few unneeded ones one comfort a day.
Batad reflections 1 September 14, 2008
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14 September 2008, Sunday, 8.55 a.m.
I woke up to the beautiful site of the mountain and the terraces as backdrop. Life here is simple and slow. But we have to work fast to catch up with our set time schedule. An irony. The folks don’t seem to get tired working, but here we are bringing in our urban idea of speed–easily getting tired of things.
Can I live here? Maybe the artist and writer in me can thrive. But the postmodern folk in me cannot. My speed culture cannot catch up with the serenity and predictability of everyday life here.
To some extent, I’ve slowed down. My legs tired. Waiting for my cell to be fully recharged. Writing these reflexive notes. Waiting is the name of the game again. I managed to see the small things in life again. Like the moth which surrounded our fluorescent lights last night, which rested on my bed this morning, tired. What could that mean?
I miss home. And my folks. Wish I have the facilities to write these down fast and well. No signal here. I’m disconnected from the outside world since yesterday. We’ll be leaving tonight. But before we can do that, we have to trek up again. One whole mountain range. For two hours. Depending on our pace. So we can reach Banaue proper–only to travel via pick-up jeep along the narrower, thinner trails; a wrong move can make us fall down cliffs, ravines, and steep slopes.
