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This is more of a plea:

I don’t want to fail finals. ‘Yun lang.

Please, God.

The pages bleed a riot of colors.

Green for the most important, cannot-be-forgotten headings.

Yellow for the primary support and significant expounding.

Pink for the details, the lists, those forgotten all too quickly.

Orange for the rebuttals that prove that rules do have exceptions.

Blue for the basis and whatever’s different that’s left.

Almost everything bleeds, and next to nothing is left unscathed. Colors define and cage the sentences into categories that form a hierarchy. Green first, then yellow, orange is important but pink not as much, and blue must never be forgotten.

The paper is too thin to handle all the ink, as it seeps through everything. The pulp is not strong enough to hold the weight of a rainbow that’s too concrete to be effervescent, and far removed from its pot of gold. This is not the magic of light through rain. This is the explosion of need and play.

It is a riot—a no-holds barred fight to be vision that’s noticed, like a second-rate beauty pageant of vulgar neon colors. In the end, no one’s really beautiful because everyone’s just pretty. But it’s a flashy conundrum of sequined long gowns, neon-bright skimpy bikinis, and outrageous national costumes. It’s chaos.

It’s entropy that cunningly but effectively hides cosmos. You are green, and you go well with yellow. Pink must come after orange. Blue—blue just sprouts up when he’s needed. Because without this chaotic order, everything would just be lost in letter after word after sentence after paragraph after page.

And in the end, you realize you’ve read nothing at all.

Salt is a condiment present in almost any dish. It’s a basic ingredient in cooking that adds flavor. Sure it’s just one, simple, normal (even benign) flavor that cannot compare with other, more exotic and exciting spices like paprika or oregano (Sorry I don’t really cook and Filipino dishes hardly ever use those spices, so to me, they are exotic). Today, however, salt is a sign of poverty in our country. Those who cannot buy viands eat rice with salt–to give it flavor.

Look at it this way: salt is the only one thing that you really need  to add flavor (screw sugar). It’s basic, raw, and powerful. So is the movie Salt (directed by Phillip Noyce and written by Kurt Wimmer) starring Angelina Jolie, in what I think is one of her best roles and portrayals ever. But I’ve only watched her in Wanted, Tomb Raider, and Lara Croft so that’s not saying much. However, I stand by my assessment: she rocks this whole show like a one-woman orchestra.

WARNING: This is a sorta spolier-y review. I tried my best to leave out major spoilers about the plot, but I couldn’t stop myself from detailing my favorite scenes (and not-so-favorite ones) and expounding on why I liked the movie. If you have not seen the movie and do not want to be spoiled at all, better come back after you’ve seen it then feel free to agree or disagree with my opinion. 😉

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O, my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you, and I detest all my sins because I fear the loss of heaven and the pains of hell. But most of all, because I have offended you, my God, who are so good an deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of your grace, to confess my sins, do penance, and amend my life, Amen.

I don’t like formulated prayers because most of the time, people memorize more than they speak from the heart. That’s a shame, really, because some of these prayers are wonderful. The Prayer for Generosity is absolutely beautiful.

I’ve forgotten the name of the above prayer, but I do know that it’s what you recite before you receive confession – a sort of cleansing ritual before receiving the Body of Christ. I’ve never particularly liked it, especially since I am forever unable to do the last three things that prayer subscribes me to do. I feel like a liar everytime I say it in my head because I somehow know that I won’t be able to do those things. Sin, I can. Unsin, I cannot.

But, I guess, I do see the relative use of that prayer. How else do you explain to children why they must not sin? Because heaven is where you want to be and hell is a pit of fire, or layers of suffering and torture for your greatest pattern of sin, if you’re Dante.

The best heroes are the greatest sinners. Their paths to redemption, from sinners to saints, make for beautiful prose and even more compelling poetry. A squeaky clean person is boring on paper. There’s no denouement because there’s no climax. Tension is contrived instead of gripping. Readers are invested, and their emotions are twisted by great anti-heroes. Because when heroes sin, they show us that they’re also human, and that temptation gets to them as well.

To err is human. To sin is even more human. To attain redemption is the core of humanity. We know when we sin, and we want to erase every speckle of that dirty stain. Nobody wants to be in a state of sin. The goal is to break from the mold of sin – to scrub off every trace that we have sinned. But it’s in sin that we learn, and through sin that we grow. We become happy – gloriously so – when we sin, but the happiness is enveloped by a foreboding sadness and guilt. Like chocolate so rich and so dark it can’t be anything else but sinful. Sin makes you tough, but it makes your bone brittle and your body susceptible to breaking.

Why do we sin? Because we can’t help it. Our natural tendency is to sin and be sinful. And it’s only with great, almost an iron-clad willpower that we break away from sin. Because to sin is to offend love. On the other hand, love is always haunted by sinfulness. Every great love is, at one point, sinful. Because sin is akin to pain, which is not the opposite of love, but rather it’s mirror. It’s as if the good witch looking at a mirror and seeing the bad witch. Sin is always next to goodness because without sin, there is nothing good and clean because without sin, then nothing would be the stain to make you think of what it could be without that stain.

And now I am rambling, because in my world, to ramble is a sinful pleasure.