text:
At 4:00 in the morning of September 21, 1973 -- the first anniversary of martial law -- I and three other seminarians quietly slipped out of the seminary. I wore my jogging pants and my scout-ranger jacket. We carried some of the leaflets that we mimeographed the previous nights. These leaflets contained a denunciation of the martial law and a call for people to resist the dictatorial regime. We planned to saturate the city with these leaflets. Other students belonging to various cells were also doing the same thing in different parts of the city. We went on our separate ways. As I was walking alone in the dark and deserted streets of downtown
Cebu dropping
leaflets in the doorsteps and mail-boxes, I suddenly felt hands grabbing me
from behind. A man held me by the neck, another by the arms. The third man aimed his .45 caliber pistol at me and said,
"Don't move, you are under
He frisked me and grabbed the leaflets I tucked inside my jacket. A car suddenly pulled in beside us and I was shoved inside. I was sandwiched between the two men while the third sat in front. My whole body froze and my heart raced as the car sped along
Jones Avenue
and entered Camp Sergio Osmeña. I had
a sinking feeling -- as if I was falling into a void as I said to myself,
"Oh God, please help me, I have been caught."
They brought me up to the office of the Constabulary Security Unit in third floor and dumped me inside a small dark windowless room they called the "dragon room." This was the room where they conducted tactical interrogations. What happened next seemed surreal. It was an experience of pain, shame and humiliation that I tried to forget and did not want talk about. Years later as I tried to come to terms with the past, I wrote a psalm that describes what I and many other political prisoners had to go through.
A Prisoner's Psalm
From this dark and damp cell
I cry out to you --
Lord, can your hear my groaning?
I cry to you all day long,
I call out to you in the night
But you are so distant or absent.
My throat is sore, I cannot scream anymore
Day and night they ask me all sorts of questions,
they strike, punch and kick me when I do not answer.
My fingers are swollen, I cannot clench my fist
My ribs are broken, I cannot stand erect
My whole body is inflamed, it is getting numb.
I was thirsty and they forced me to drink rum.
to loosen my tongue and reveal to them the truth.
They stripped me off my clothes and my dignity.
They are preparing the machine that will electrify my body.
And now I dread the sound of footsteps and the opening of the door.
I prefer this darkness than face the glaring light bulb.
They said only I can end my suffering
if I confess to them everything and betray those
who oppose this dictatorial regime.
How much longer, do I have to suffer?
How much longer can I hold on?
How much longer can I maintain my sanity?
Will I ever see again the sky and the sun?
Will I ever see again the faces of those I love and serve?
Or will they make me disappear forever?
Lord, do not abandon me!
Deliver me from these kidnappers and murderers
who are trying to maintain peace and order.
Deliver me from these mercenaries
whose obsession is to defend national security
the security of this blood-thirsty and power hunger dictator
the security of his cronies and their big business interest
the security of his alien lords and their bases and investments.
O, Lord my God,
I know you are neither blind nor deaf.
Your mercy and compassion endure forever.
You have always been a subversive God
you depose the mighty from their thrones and raise the lowly.
I cry out now to you: subvert this dictatorial regime!
Let your Spirit fill the hearts of those who are struggling to build a kingdom
of justice, peace and freedom.
From this dark and damp cell
I cry out to you, Lord can you hear me?
Into your hands I commend my broken body
and my wavering spirit.
While I was inside the "dragon room", I felt so helpless. I cried out to God but he seemed so distant and absent. I felt abandoned. Under the glare of a light bulb over my head, the intelligence agents continued to take turns in interrogating me and hitting my solar plexus, ears, chest and kidneys every time I refused to answer their questions. I was gasping for air every time they hit me. The pain became so unbearable that I passed out. When I regained consciousness I lost the sense of time since it was dark inside the room. I didn't know whether it was night or day. I was hungry and thirsty. Instead of giving me water, somebody forced me to drink Tanduay rum. I became groggy and they continued to ask me who my comrades were and where they could be found. They thought that too much alcohol would loosen my tongue. Instead, I wailed like a little child.
After a while, another intelligence agent was assigned to interrogate me. He treated me like I was his younger brother. He spoke softly and told me that the torture would stop if I just give them the information they wanted. He also brought me food. I was wondering if I could withstand another session of torture. Yet I was also imagining the faces of my comrades, especially Magno and Cynthia. If I reveal their names they would also be picked up, tortured and imprisoned. I told myself that I would never reveal any information that would lead to their arrest. Yet I had to tell them something that would make them believe that they have broken me and that I have finally cooperated. So I finally said, "Please, don't hurt me anymore. I will tell you everything I know."
I wanted the torture to stop and at the same time protect the real identity of my companions. To mislead them, I finally gave them the name of a popular student activist – Tina Rosello - who belonged to a radical leftist student group. I presumed she had already gone underground and they would not be able to arrest her. They seemed to believe me and the torture stopped. They were glad that I was finally cooperating with them. They asked me if I was willing to work as an informer if they released me. I said yes. I was thinking that I would just hide once I get out.
The following night or was it day, I heard the scream of a young woman in another room. An agent told me that they had picked up Tina and was interrogating her. He told me that they would use me as a witness if she was going to be tried by a military tribunal. I was seized with remorse. I was saying to myself, "What have I done? In order to save myself and my comrades I gave them her name and she is now suffering because of my false story."
When I met the major, I told him that everything I revealed to them was a lie and that I was retracting my statement. So Tina was immediately released. My conscience would continue to haunt me for the despicable act of falsely implicating a girl in order to save my skin. It was the worst sin that I have ever committed.
I felt I was being sucked deeper and deeper into a black hole in which there was no escape. When I went to the comfort room, accompanied by a guard, I saw an open window and all I thought was to jump out of it. We were on the third floor but I didn't care. All I wanted was to end it all. But I didn't have a chance to do it since the guard was just beside me.
I was sent back to the dragon room for further interrogation. They were mad at me for lying to them. The torture continued. I was like a punching bag and a soccer ball. But I refused to tell them anything. After so many days of torture, my body and mind became numb. I couldn't feel anymore. Even when one of the interrogators put the barrel of his .45 caliber pistol in my mouth and cocked it, I didn't care anymore if he pulled the trigger. My interrogators out of exasperation told me that they would be using the electric shock to force out information from me. They showed me a machine with the electrodes that they would attach to the different parts of my body. I was suddenly filled with terror.
I finally told them, "OK, I give up, I can't stand it anymore. I will tell you everything." They believed that I had finally reached my breaking point.
This is the gist of the story I told them: "I had been recruited by Ed Garcia and Sam Javelosa to the Lakasdiwa in the early seventies. With the declaration of Martial Law the members of the Lakasdiwa decided to lie low. I was trying to revive the movement in
Cebu and I started by organizing a cell in
the seminary. We produced the leaflets ourselves using the seminary
mimeographing machine and distributed these ourselves. We didn't have any
contact with any group. We were on our own."
I gave them the names of the seminarians who helped me produce and distribute the leaflets (Rex Fernandez, Dwight Alcantar and Reynold Pigar). This story was close to the truth to be credible. Strangely enough, the interrogators seemed to believe me. In order to check out my story, they invited for questioning the three seminarians. Since all they knew was about the production and distribution of the leaflets, they were sent home immediately. So finally the torture and tactical interrogation was over. I survived. I protected the identity of my comrades and friends. I was turned over to the Regional Command for the Administration of Detainees for formal investigation.
I spent almost a week in a small cell inside the Provost Marshall's office. It was like a cage. This was the holding cell for those undergoing formal investigation. The investigator assigned to take my sworn statement was Sgt. Allega. He was assisted by an attractive female staff. All I did was to repeat the story I told my interrogators. The female constabulary soldier typed everything I said. From time to time Sgt. Allega would ask for more information but I stuck to my story, making sure that I would not implicate my comrades. After our last session, the investigator told me I would be sent to the detention center and undergo "rehabilitation."
So on October 3, 1973, I and two other prisoners were put on a military truck and taken to
. We were
handcuffed and accompanied by armed guards. It was the first time I saw the sky
since I was arrested. It was a gloomy afternoon, the sun was hidden by the dark
clouds and rain poured as we reached the detention camp. I had a sinking
feeling as I found myself inside the prison camp which was enclosed by high
walls and barbed wires. The guards first took us to the administration building
where our pictures and finger-prints were taken. The officer on duty added our
names to the list of prisoners on a blackboard.
Then we were brought to a one-story building that looked like a
pre-fabricated school house without any windows or ceiling. The air and light
could only enter through a small opening near the roof. After we were brought inside, the guards
closed the steel door behind us and I saw these burly men with tattoos all over
their bodies look down at us. One of
them started asking, "Who are you and what are your cases?" Lahug Detention
I was the first one to answer, "I am Amado Picardal and I am a political prisoner."
A dark young man with a shaved head approached me and said, "Come with me. Nobody's going to harm you. You are exempted from this initiation. They respect political prisoners here. I am Hugo and I am also a political prisoner."
The two other new prisoners with me had criminal offenses. They were just teenagers. They were immediately subjected to the initiation rite for new prisoners. It was called "the baptism." So the two young prisoners were brought to the toilet and their faces were dunked into the toilet bowl filled with urine and excrements. Then the other prisoner took turns in punching them. Later that night several sex-starved prisoners sodomized them. And I thought all these could have happened to me too.
I found it difficult to sleep on my first night. There was a lot of bantering among prisoners who were drinking and playing cards. Others were arguing and I thought a fight could erupt at any moment. I was perspiring and every time I breathe the smell of sweat, urine and excrement filled my nostrils. Thankfully, I was tired and I dozed off. At around four in the morning I woke up. I tried to convince myself that I was back in my bed in the seminary and all that had happened was just a bad dream. But the stench reminded me that I was still in prison. I wiped the tears in my cheeks and went back to sleep.
Dear Ma,
It is a month now since I was arrested and detained by the intelligence operatives of the Constabulary Security Unit. After a week of tactical interrogation and solitary confinement I was transferred to a prison cell at
Osmeña and a week later was brought here. This is a detention center for people
charged with common crimes ( robbery, homicide, rape, etc.). There are around
70 prisoners in my cell block - most of whom are hardened criminals. Almost
every night a fight breaks out among the drunken members of the prison gangs.
So far, I have managed to survive in this harsh environment. Camp Sergio
A couple of weeks ago, I celebrated my 18th birthday. Fr. Jesena and some classmates came for a visit. They brought me a birthday cake.
Yesterday, I met Colonel Santua and he told me that I will be transferred to the political detention center at
next week. It
seems that they will not try my case before the military tribunal. I will just
undergo "political rehabilitation." I still don't know when I will
be released. Camp
By the way, Fr. Rudy Abao and Bro. Ben Alforque, MSC were arrested two weeks ago. This is once again a proof of the fascist character of the Marcos dictatorial regime. Anybody who dares to criticize, expose and oppose this "New Society" will be arrested. But it does not matter. What is important is that not all can be fooled by the lies and deceit of this regime. Not all are asleep in these dark days of our motherland.
Please don't worry about me, I will survive this ordeal. Don't be ashamed about my being in prison. To struggle for freedom is not a crime.
It was frightening to be placed on the same cell with thieves, murderers, rapists and carnappers, etc. I was lucky there was one other political prisoner -- Hugo. He had earned the respect of the other prisoners and took me under his wings. We were able to befriend the toughest criminal whom everyone addressed as the "Mayor." He was regarded as the big boss, so nobody dared to harm or molest us. In return I acted as his secretary. He would ask me to write letters to his mother and to his various girlfriends outside. Mayor was a Mama's boy. In the early hours of the morning I would hear him crying and calling out to his mother.
Life in prison was dull. The guards would wake us up before six every morning and open the doors of our cells and order us to proceed to the courtyard where we would be exposed to the morning sun as they made the roll call. After a breakfast of black coffee and two pieces of bread, we would go back to our bunks and do nothing. We spent most of our time waiting for our next meal and dreaming of the delicious food that we would eat once we were released. Others had their bodies tattooed. A crude design of a clenched fist with a number 1081 was tattooed on my left arm. We would also gather in small groups sharing our stories. Some even shared the tricks of their trade (how to pick a pocket or how to rob a house). Others shared with us how they killed their victims.
Many of the prisoners seemed to be pious. Many wore the rosary around their neck. One even had a tattoo of the Mother of Perpetual Help on his back. Every evening after supper the prisoners would come together and pray the rosary. Later, they would gather and drink rum. By midnight many would be drunk and there would be a brawl among various gang members. Whenever a fight broke out, I would immediately scamper to a safe haven near the bunk of Mayor and Hugo.
Hugo was my constant companion. He was a student activist before martial law was declared. He told me that he joined the NPA (New People's Army) after the declaration of martial rule. He was caught while visiting his brother in
Cebu. Hugo and I
would often argue about the existence of God.
He was a Marxist and an atheist. He told me there was no material basis
for God's existence and that religion was the opium of the people. He was very convincing and I felt so
inadequate because I did not know how to prove the existence of God. I could not make an account of my faith. The seed of doubt was planted in my mind.
I was very fortunate that Fr. Jesena , the seminary director, visited me three times a week and followed up my case. He regularly wrote my mother and father to give them updates about me and my case. On October 26, he wrote this letter:
Dear Engr. and Mrs. Picardal,
Thank you for your letter. I hope things are fine with you and the children.
Amado is doing well. He has been helping other prisoners by looking into their cases and presenting those who need help to the officer in charge of the
. Yesterday, he was typing the
time-table and the grouping of the prisoners. He said he has a plot for
gardening. On investigation I found out that he has not planted any seedling
yet. Detention Center
The wheels of justice still moves very slowly even with the PC [Philippine Constabulary]. I have been following up Amado's case also everyday and I haven't gone very far. The recommendation for his transfer to
has now gone on
to the office of the officer approving it. Camp
My letter to General Amor was not handed directly to him but it is being circulated among different offices. I have lost track of it. I have to find out where. It seems to be playing hide and seek. So I think we have to be very patient.
Today, I was investigated myself. I have to raise my hands to swear to the truth of my statements - or else?!? I was told to return Monday for another session.
So will you be patient? I'll tell Nonie about your message. I am visiting Amado almost every two days and I think I can be taken now for one of the detainees. I always bring him something to eat when I visit him. Frs. Suico and Sullivan and Bro. Gerard had also visited him. He still has money with me. I'll be writing every week to give you info. God bless.
On October 28, 1973, I was transferred to the political detention center in
I got a very warm reception from the political prisoners. Among those who
welcomed me was Minerva Generalao – a pretty college student from my hometown
who was arrested a month earlier. That
evening after supper, they held a program to welcome me. There were a lot of singing
-- mostly revolutionary songs. Others recited their favorite poems. There was
also a comedy skit, depicting life in prison and the foibles of the guards. I
was also asked to introduce myself. We ended by singing lustily our national
anthem: Bayan Ko. I really felt at home among them. Two weeks
later I wrote my mother: Camp Lapulapu
Dearest Ma,
Two weeks ago, I was transferred to this camp and so far I have no difficulty adjusting to this environment. All those imprisoned here are political detainees. There are more than 80 of us here. Ten of them are ex-seminarians. My former professor in Philosophy at the
, Mario
Bolasco, is also detained here. I hope Fr. Abao and Bro. Ben will be transferred here. University of
San Carlos
Our detention barracks, which is inside the army camp, is enclosed by walls and barbed wires. It is heavily guarded and there is a watch tower. We are living a very regimented way of life. We wake up at in the morning for reveille and calisthenics followed by the cleaning of the place. We have rehabilitation classes and manual labor in the morning and athletics in the afternoon. I am a member of the detention basketball team. I am also in the card-making committee - we're making cards for Christmas that we will sell. We have a library, cooperative store, parlor games, tailoring, medical committee, food committee, etc. Next week, we will be starting our chess and ping-pong tournaments.
As you can see, we are by ourselves a little community. We are trying to improve the prison conditions and to make ourselves at home. It is not enough to merely adjust to prison life. We have to transform the condition into a more humane and dignified one as well.
I don't know when I will be released. I am still under "rehabilitation." My detention is indefinite -- it could be for seven months or seven years.
Being detained and losing my freedom is the worst thing that could ever happen to me. But to quote from the beautiful card you sent me: "Happy are they who dream dreams and are willing to pay the price to make them come true."
It is true that my detention is really a bad thing in terms of wasted time (my studies). I'm already behind my batch and I won't be able to finish my education for the priesthood within six years. But we have to look at this situation positively. This is the time when I can assess and evaluate my life. Out of this experience I hope to emerge a better man with a deeper understanding of reality. I do not expect to go through life smoothly, I have to pass through many trials and difficulties. This is the harsh reality of life and I have to accept it with the hope that something good can come out of it.
You must have been joking when you wrote that you dream of me becoming a bishop or cardinal someday. That's an impossible dream. I don't have any desire for these high positions. I only want to be a simple priest, working among the poor, facing life with them.
Please give my regards to all,
Two weeks later, I received a cheerful and very consoling letter from my mother, written in English, as usual:
Dearest Mading,
I've almost bitten up all my fingernails with impatience waiting for your letter. Everybody was happy when your letter arrived.
I am very glad that there's never a dull moment in your life there, what with all the things you like -- basketball, chess, ping-pong, and a library, too (the best of all)! You know dear, I'm afraid that you'd want to live there permanently if you are feeling very comfortable. Ouch? I'm only kidding you.
You know, I was just joking when I said that I would like you to be a bishop or a cardinal someday. Well, who knows? It's not a crime to dream dreams, is it?
If you don't mind being out of school for one semester or more, it's okay with me. I only hope that you'll not be too unhappy about it. Remember, I have given you to our Lord when you first entered the seminary and I know that the Lord will take good care of you. I'm only very sorry that we could not visit you -- I'm certain that you understand our situation now. Nonie and Fr. Jesena are always visiting you aren't they? I wish I could send you something you'd like to eat, mind telling me your preference?
Did they shave your head? I hope not. You've got to maintain your personal grooming even though you are in prison. I think you have some ladies for cellmates, haven't you? I'd like to picture my boy looking "spick and span" and handsome. ehem. Gosh, not that I'd love you less if you were cross-eyed or hare-lip and very ugly. That reminds me of a description I came across once -- "He has a face that only a mother could love." Quite a beautiful thing a mother's love is, isn't it?
By the way, do you know that you've become dearer to me since you gave me a fright by landing yourself in jail? It's only now I know how brave and courageous you are. I'm really blessed having a son as fine as you are. Ouch! do you think there's any possibility that I'll land in prison by merely saying that? What a cruel world!
I am now an active member of the Cursillo movement. We have ultreyas every Wednesday. Every Friday evening we also have "
session. We are going to have a Purok level Pastoral Seminar one of these days.
I hope we will be successful in this -- forming a Christian Community. I'm sure
this is one way of realizing your dream -- of helping the oppressed. Fr. McHugh has also invited me to be part of
the Citizen's Commission for Justice and Peace (CCJP). School of Leaders
So long dear -- your Papa and your brods and sisters are sending you their love. Be seeing you in my dreams.
Love lots,
I never expected that I would end up as a prisoner in
The last time I was in the army camp was when I was being trained in
unconventional warfare and riot control
as an ROTC Scout Ranger. At least, the prison condition was much better than
the one in my former detention camp in Lahug.
I was among political prisoners instead of criminals. There were eighty
political prisoners -- 65 men and 15 women. The barracks of the men and women
were separated by a barbed wire fence but we had a common dining hall. Most of
the prisoners came from the different parts of the Visayas - from Leyte and
Samar (Eastern Visayas), from Panay and Negros (Western Visayas), and Cebu and
Bohol ( Camp Lapulapu Central Visayas). Most were leaders of the radical student
movement -- the KM-SDK, some were leading cadres of the Communist Party of the ,
while others were captured NPA combatants. Thus, the National Democrats and
Marxists comprised the majority. There were only a handful of Social Democrats.
In spite of our ideological differences, we were able to get along well with
each other. I easily made a lot of friends among my fellow political
prisoners. I was glad that Fr. Rudy Abao
and Bro. Ben Alforque were transferred to our detention barracks. They became
my constant companions. Philippines
The prison condition was not that harsh. We were treated well most of the time. However, there were times when the guards would pick up some of our fellow prisoners in the middle of the night and when they came back they would be groaning or crying after a night of torture. The last incident happened a week before Christmas. Many of us felt that the practice should stop. So we all decided to hold a hunger strike. On the first day of the hunger strike, the guards brought fried chicken and pork adobo. Our mouths watered as we gazed at the food on the table. We were never served such delicious meals before. But we refused to take them. Instead we banged our mess kits and had a noise barrage which reverberated all over the camp the whole day. By evening time, I felt very hungry. This was the first time that I missed breakfast, lunch and supper. I drank a lot of water and went to bed early. On the second day, the guards called out the names of eight political prisoners. Among these were Mario Bolasco, Menandro Villanueva, Fr. Rudy Abao, Bro. Ben Alforque and myself. We were told to pack up our bags and get on the military truck. We were brought to Camp Sergio Osmeña and placed inside a small cell. The prison authorities suspected us of being the leaders of the hunger strike and wanted to isolate us. Nevertheless, we decided to continue our hunger strike in solidarity with our fellow political prisoners who were left behind. On Christmas eve, as we heard the sound of firecrackers outside and imagined our families and friends enjoying their Christmas dinner, we continued our hunger strike. Although I felt a bit weak , I didn´t feel the hunger fangs anymore. We greeted one another a Merry Christmas. On December
27, a
week after the start of the hunger strike, the prison authorities gave in to
our demands. However, those of us in the isolation cell were told that we would
be not be sent back to . We would be
transferred to Camp
Lapu-lapu Fort Bonifacio in .
Dear Ma,
How was your Christmas? I hope you have not given up hope wishing for a better one. I know how miserable it is to be deprived of our basic needs and rights. Anyway, we have to be thankful that we're still alive.
I received the foodstuffs you sent me the other day. I was really touched by the Christmas cards and letters from my brothers and sisters. I'm just sorry that I could not send them gifts this Christmas like I used to. Anyway, it is not the gift that counts. What is important is that we are one in spirit in celebrating this Christmas and we hope that we will go through these hardships together.
You probably heard that we had a hunger strike from December 19 to 27. After the first day of the hunger strike, eight of us (including Fr. Rudy Abao and Bro. Ben Alforque) were transferred to the Provost Marshall's stockade at
Osmeña. We were
suspected of being the leaders of the hunger strike and they wanted to isolate
us. The eight of us spent Christmas in a small cell built for four persons. We
were held incommunicado. We were not allowed to receive visitors. We were told
to get ready because we were to be transferred to Camp
Sergio Fort
Bonifacio in after Christmas. They said that they
had already requested for an air-force plane that will airlift us to Manila . Fortunately, they
changed their mind and only three were transferred to Manila
(Fr. Abao, Menandro Villanueva and Mario Bolasco). The rest of us were sent
back here at Ft. Bonifacio . Fr. Jesena told
me that he requested Cardinal Julio Rosales to convince General Amor not to send me
to Camp
Lapulapu . Manila
At present I'm working on my philosophy term paper. I hope to take the special exams by February. You don't have to worry about my studies, I can still catch up with my batch if I'm released before summer.
Please give my warmest regards to everyone. I'm including you in my prayers. I hope you will keep on praying for a better tomorrow.
Life in the political detention camp went back to normal. The guards were more friendly. The practice of picking up and torturing prisoners stopped. We spent more time playing basketball, chess and ping-pong. We also spent a lot of time discussing various topics: politics, philosophy, science and religion. Most of these were discussed from a Marxist perspective. What affected me most was the discussion on religion. For the first time in my life I lived in an environment where the majority took it for granted that God did not exist and that religion was the opium of the people. For many of my fellow political prisoners, the "Marxist-Leninist-Mao Tse Tung Thought" could explain everything. For them, it provides a rational-scientific explanation of how everything came to be, how society has developed, and what the future of humankind will be. They asserted that "dialectical historical materialism" can more adequately explain the origin and direction of all reality rather than religion or theology. Thus, this scientific view of reality precludes belief in God.
As I listened to the discussion among my fellow political prisoners, I became more and more aware of the possibility that God may not exist at all, that God may just be the product of our imagination, and that we human beings may have created God in our own image and likeness. The critique of religion as the opium of the people seemed to be reasonable to me. I began to agree with them that religion can provide solace to the oppressed, especially with the promise of heaven. It makes all the suffering and oppression bearable. Because of this, people will no longer struggle for liberation. Thus, for many of my fellow political prisoners to be a revolutionary meant to be an atheist. The song from the Internationale sums this up: "Wala tayong maaasahan, Bathala o Manunubos…" (There is no one we can put our hope or trust in, neither a God or a Savior). Instead of believing in God, we need to believe in the people - the masses. Instead of hoping for a divine liberator, we have to liberate ourselves.
In spite of the atheism that many professed, they continued to attend the regular Sunday Mass which was presided by Captain Oquendo, the military chaplain. I could sense the skepticism of many which I began to imbibe. Like others, I doubted whether it was really the word of God that we heard, and that whether the bread and wine was really transformed into the body and blood of Christ. It became more and more difficult for me to believe. It was easier not to believe. What made it more difficult was that I did not feel God's presence in prison.
I was impressed by the zeal and commitment of my fellow political prisoners who regarded themselves as National Democrats and Communists. They viewed their imprisonment as a temporary setback and dreamed of the day when they would be back in the countryside continuing the struggle for freedom and liberation. They were full of hope and they truly believed that someday the forces of revolution would be victorious. There were slogans they kept on repeating that dictated how they should behave: Serve the People, Simple living- hard struggle, Struggle against selfishness and personal interest, etc. For a people who were regarded as atheists, it seemed that they were full of faith, hope and charity. They may not believe in God or his kingdom, but they believed in the people and hoped for the coming of a new and transformed world where there will be no more injustice, exploitation or oppression. They were ready to offer their whole life for the sake of the people's cause. Later, I remembered them in a poem I wrote:
You call me godless just because I don't believe
in the god you adore, a dictator who decrees:
Blessed are the rich and the mightythey shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are the poor and the weak
they shall inherit the sky.
Blessed are the children of the rich
they shall live happily after birth.
Blessed are the children of the poor
they shall live happily after death.
Woe to you who subvert this sacred order
you shall be called godless and you will be crucified.
I don't believe in your god
who dwell in your golden tabernacles
and marble cathedrals,
who cannot see the misery of the poor
in the slums, farms and factories,
who cannot hear the groaning and the howling
of the oppressed in this vast prison,
in the cells, safehouses and streets,
an impotent god.
I don't believe in your god. I don't believe in your idols.
You call me godless
just because I don't believe in the gods you worship,
the god you accumulate day and night and keep in the tabernacle of your bank,
the god you wield that enables you to dictate the destiny of others
the god that puts you on a pedestal.
I don't believe in your gods. I don't believe in your idols.
I have seen the suffering of the poor,
I have heard the cry of the oppressed,
I have joined them in their struggle for liberation
and I am ready to sacrifice my body and blood for their total salvation,
and for this you call me godless.
While I admired their dedication and zeal, I also was alarmed by the ruthlessness of some of those who considered themselves revolutionaries. This became apparent in an incident that I witnessed one night. The lights were already out and I was sleeping in my bunk when was awakened by a cry for help. I immediately stood up and saw Siano -- a sickly political prisoner -- being beaten and kicked by six other political prisoners. His face was already bloodied. The other prisoners just watched. I pleaded, "Please stop that … why are you doing this to him?".
Instead one of them approached me and threatened to punch me. "This demon has been informing on us. Are you going to help him?"
I backed down and remained silent as they kept on beating him to a pulp. Nobody dared to stop them. When it was over, we all went back to bed. I found it difficult to sleep. I was horrified at seeing a sickly prisoner being beaten up by other fellow prisoners on the suspicion that he had informed on them.
Dear Ma,
I sent you a letter two weeks ago but it was intercepted and censored by the camp guards. So here I am again making another try.
Fr. McHugh visited me recently. Fr. Tancinco also came and brought the radio and the foodstuffs you sent me. The radio is really a big help. I can now listen to the beautiful music which dispels the boredom and loneliness.
You don't have to apologize for not informing me about Lolo's death. I heard about it anyway from Fr. Jesena.
Everything is alright here. I have just been assigned to work with the medical team and the library. I'm still with the piggery committee but unfortunately we have just lost one of our pigs who died of pneumonia. We have drills and marching every day. Finally we harvested camote from our Green Revolution project. Just recently the OCR (Office for Civil Relation) asked us to take psychological tests.
How's everybody back there? I hope Papa has already started his work. I have been praying for him lately. Please give my warmest regards to everyone.
Around the middle of February, a prison guard told me to proceed to the visitor's area. I presumed that my visitor was Fr. Jesena. I was surprised and delighted to see Papa. He seemed to have grown older with most of the hair on his head gone. I never expected him to visit me after Mama told me that he was disappointed with me and blamed her for allowing me to get involved in student activism that consequently led to my arrest. We were seating at the opposite side of the table with a guard constantly watching us. There was no smile in his face. He seemed cold and distant. "How are you?"He asked.
I told him I was OK.
"When are you going to be released?"
I answered that I didn't know but that I hoped that it would be soon. We had little to talk about. He didn't stay very long. As he left, I felt that he was deeply worried and disappointed with me. How else should a father feel seeing his son in prison? Nevertheless, I was glad that he came to visit me even if it was just for a brief moment.
Dearest Ma,
Last week, my request for a special pass was granted and so I went to the University to take my special exams accompanied by an armed guard. I am probably the first political prisoner to do this. Fr. Jesena had made the arrangement beforehand with my professors. I was glad to see them. It took the whole morning doing the exams in history, chemistry, and philosophy.
I met Nonie. We had lunch at the monastery where I was warmly welcomed by the Redemptorist community. The Fathers were very supportive and sympathetic. After lunch I was able to convince my guard that we see a movie before going back to the camp. Well, it was good to be out of prison even for a day. I'm longing for the day when I will be released from this prison camp.
Two weeks later I received a letter from Mama:
Dearest Mading,
Hullo there! How was the results of your exams? I hope you got a passing mark or I'll make you change your middle name.
Nonie has been telling me that you've grown sidewise -- bitaw, to say it in her own words, you're growing fat. I'm not happy at all about it . Know why? I'm suspecting that you're having a "beri-beri." I've heard before that your occupation was to wait for the next meal.
My poor son, your relatives do not approve of what you have done. If I were in their shoes, I'd do the same. Your uncles and aunts are worried about me. They are afraid that I will be the first in the family to go to Mandaluyong if the strain is too much for me. They are marveling at my remarkable endurance. I think I have our Lord to thank for it.
I am intending to ask your uncle Pitoy [Colonel Nadorra] to write to General Amor and plead for your release. Any objection? You see dear, you have already overstayed in prison. The government is wasting money for your board and lodging when the money could have been invested in some useful cause. Besides that, I really want you to finish your studies without delay. You know how priests are badly needed in our country today.
Your brods, sisters and most of all your Papa are sending you their love. I hope you will be the no. 1 model prisoner in prison. I'd surely come and pin your ribbon if you will just let me know.
I just couldn't believe that my little boy has grown up to be a man. The last time you kissed me goodbye when you were leaving for
was more than a couple of years ago. But now you don't kiss me anymore because
you are already grown up. But to me you are still my boy. So long dear.
April 15, 1974, I was brought to the office of
General Luis Amor, the III PC Zone commander.
Mama and my youngest sister, Cely, were there. My uncle (Mama's
brother-in-law), retired Colonel Jose Nadorra, had earlier written General Amor
asking him to release me under his custody.
My uncle was General Amor's former commanding officer from way back. So
finally, General Amor acceded to my uncle's request. After giving us a long lecture, the General signed my release paper. He told me that I was just a temporarily released detainee
and that I have been placed under city
arrest, which meant that I could not leave the city of without permission from the military
authorities. I was required to report
once a week to the provost marshal's office for accounting purposes. I was also asked to sign a document declaring
that I was treated well during my imprisonment and that I was never tortured. I
was hesitant to sign it but I had no choice.
I didn't think they would release me if I refused to do so. So I was
brought back to the detention center and I hurriedly packed my things. I gave away some of my clothes to my fellow detainees and said
goodbye to them. Cebu
My prison ordeal ended after seven months. I survived. Yet somehow I was a different person. I had been hardened by the torture, the isolation, the prison violence, the boredom, the hunger strike, etc. In order to survive I learned to dull my senses and my feelings. I was no longer sure of my faith. I became paranoid -- I was suspicious of strangers around me, thinking I was still under surveillance. I was afraid to meet my old friends and comrades. I began to experience recurring nightmares.
So I was free at last. But I was released to a bigger prison -- the Philippine society under a dictatorial rule.


text: Now that the formalities are out of the way, let's get to my inquiry: I purchased a PSP Go tonight and it came with firmware 6.10 built on it. I was wondering if there was a way to activate the unit without updating the firmware to 6.35, I have the PSN version of Hot Shots Golf Open Tee on my PSP3k with 6.31 and have been happily using R109 on it. The Go requests that I update the firmware in order to play any of my games. Is there anything I can do about this or should I just update to 6.35 and wait until a new loader is out. I suppose it's a moot point seeing as I still have my 3k with the loader but I would like to have it on the Go if possible. I thank you for taking the time to read my inquiry and appreciate any aid you can offer me in this matter.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Dishes listed from this
16 Photos from Tastyspots.com & 0 photos Uploaded by Users
Time - 12PM to 10:30PM
Avg Cost for two - Rs.600
Cuisines - Chinese , Continental , Thai , Arabian
Serve - Lunch, Dinner,
Suitable for Family , Friends , Food Explorers
Kollam , Kottamukku, Kollam
Location Note: Near Supreme Supermarket, Kottamukku, Kollam
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Wok & Grill is a classy restaurant in Kollam where you can pick from an array of Chinese, Thai and fusion menu. Offering a perfect fine dine experience for a family outing, this restaurant near Supreme Supermarket at Kottamukku serves customers from 12 pm to 3 pm in the afternoon and 6 pm to 11 pm during the night everyday. Thai Green Curry, Honey Chilli Chicken and Chicken in Black Pepper &Burnt Garlic are some of the cuisines most in demand here.
Wok & Grill is a perfect destination for gastronomes who are on the lookout for good Chinese and Thai cuisines. Though almost all the signature dishes here are either from China or Thailand, you can get to try some Arabian and grilled items too. This restaurant situated in Kottamukku near Supreme Supermarket witnesses a huge crowd during weekend dinners which is the busiest time here. Well, if you are planning for a dinner out here this Sunday then it's better to book your table in advance as they accept reservations during the weekends.But remember to reach in time as your table would be kept reserved for a maximum of 10 minutes than the time mentioned by you before allotting it to the next customer.
'Chicken in Black Pepper &Burnt Garlic' isa special dish definitely to taste from this restaurant. The shredded chicken pieces are cooked with burnt garlic in dark soya sauce and pepper balls that give this awesome dish an extra tangy quotient.If you are looking for something different from the usual then 'Honey Chilli Chicken' would be your perfect choice. Though initially it tastes sweet but with each bite you can feel the hotness of the spices as you chew on- a treat for your taste buds. Chilli sauce mixed with honey is the secret ingredient behind this superb dish.
'Thai Green Curry' is their main item from the Thai cuisine palate. A light green colour chicken curry in thick coconut cream and a dash of special spices mix added to it.This dish may not be liked by many owing to its different taste but nonetheless you can give a try as Thai cuisine is not very common in Kerala. 'Chicken Sizzler' as the name indicates is served sizzling hot in a metal plate. The bright red colour chicken pieces taste best when served hot on a platter along with cauliflower that is used prepare this fiery dish.
Good food with great atmosphere is the main attraction of Wok & Grill. It's a delight to see uniformed and experienced waiters serve food with efficiency but at the service gets a bit delayed especially during the rush hours. The two main air-conditioned dining areas furnished with wooden chairs and tables give this restaurant a simple but elegant look.
Here they do accept credit cards and have a spacious parking lot managed by security guards both in front and opposite of the restaurant. You can also get a parcel of your ordered dishes from the 'Take Away'counter set outside the restaurant with a waiting area.
'Thai Green Curry' is their main item from the Thai cuisine palate. A light green colour chicken curry in thick coconut cream and a dash ... More
'Chicken in Black Pepper & Burnt Garlic' is a special dish definitely to taste from this restaurant. The shredded chicken pieces are cook... More
The sweet yet spicy taste of this dish is just superb. Though initially it tastes sweet but with each bite you can feel the hotness of th... More
Full Al faham is served with three kuboose and three different sauces- garlic, chilli and mayonnaise. A grilled dish with Arabian masalas... More
'Chicken Sizzler' as the name indicates is served sizzling hot in a metal plate. The bright red colour chicken pieces taste best when ser... More
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text:
Manushi Chhillar- The Miss World 2017
Model Papers
Present Samsamayiki Mahasagar details about Shinzo Abe's Reurn to Power, ASEAN Summit 2017, Hyperloop, World Food India 2017, Ocean Acidification & CarbFix Project, Cryosphere & Global Climate Change, Indian Renaissance and Israel. Housing & Urban Development Schemes, State Odisha, International Agriculture Organization, International Food Policy & Research Institute are other few topics covered in here.
The December review gives an all-encompassing update on National & International Events, State Scenario, Economy & Banking, Science & Technology, Sports and News. Along with this, you will find mentions of Crackers on General Studies, 100 MCQs on Current Affairs, Exam Specials on Simple & Compound Interest, Analogy, Sentence Rearrangement and Essay Competition on Why Rural India's Development is Important.


text:
I'll tell you the story of Oreo cupcakes. My neighbor T is a totally cool girl and she has the most amazing ideas. The other day she said that we should make Oreo cupcakes and that's just what we did.
After a long day at office, I went home and she already made the cake batter ready and got the Oreos. Since I own the baking stuff, I prepared it and we put in an Oreo at the bottom of each cupcake liner and baked it. Then after they were bakes we tried with different options for frosting. We used chocolate and peanut butter comb, vanilla frosting and topped it off with chocolate sprinkles and cashew nuts.
They were amazing. Seriously. A bit too sweet for my taste. I only had one cupcake (my dentists is going to give me an earful the next time I visit him) and the rest is still waiting at my place looking for someone to eat them. Honestly, it's a shame that people at my place do not eat sweet stuff. Desserts get leftover for days and then we normally end up throwing them away. Such a shame that my friends don't visit me now. -.- (hint: visit me guys!)
I also started watching this Korean series called My Girl which I think is a bit less dramatic than most Korean stuff. I kinda love the story.
So, how's Ramadan so far guys?


text:
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text:
Self-empathy. Self-compassion. What's the difference between these terms? I've been curious about this, and so it's time to explore.
I first heard of the concept of self-empathy when I went to my first Nonviolent Communication (NVC) workshop in Seoul. At that time, the term empathy was foreign to me, let alone the concept of self-empathy. Sure, I had felt and offered empathy at points in my life, but I don't think I had a word for it.
That's the power of words. They can help you see things for the first time. That being said, words are also precarious things. When used as labels, they are limiting. They shade the truth and the essence of who and what things truly are. But as a language teacher and learner, I appreciate the depth of understanding a word provides.
Interestingly, it seems that not too long ago, the English language went on a search for this word. English users had a sense of empathy, but didn't have a word for it until 1909 when it was coined by the American psychologist, Robert Titchener. I wonder if the fact that English speaking cultures now have a word for empathy that they can start understanding and feeling it a bit more. Something to ponder.
But back to self-empathy. I was intrigued by this concept the moment I heard about it. The idea that I could be there for myself during hard times without needing the support of anyone else was a huge relief. The way I understood self-empathy through NVC was that when I felt conflicted, all I had to do was acknowledge the feelings that were coming up, and connect them to needs that weren't being met at the moment. This simple awareness was enough to remove a few bricks from my shoulders. Bricks I had been carrying for quite some time.
As Mark Coleman describes self-empathy, it's as if you are receiving empathy from someone, except you are that other person.
"Put yourself in their shoes offering that to you. Imagine you're like a third person viewing yourself from that distance."
These days, however, thanks to the work of Kristin Neff and other emotion researchers, the term self-compassion is being used in psychology literature and media. To understand the difference between self-empathy and self-compassion, it's helpful to understand the contrast between their roots, and another close friend: sympathy. I'm only bringing him in because when I present the idea of compassionate communication to teachers, they often raise this question: what's the difference between empathy, sympathy, and compassion? I love this question because the difference is very important to make. For clarity on compassion and empathy, I refer to the excellent reports by The Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley:
Compassion – Compassion literally means "to suffer together." Among emotion researchers, it is defined as the feeling that arises when you are confronted with another's suffering and feel motivated to relieve that suffering.
Empathy – Emotion researchers generally define empathy as the ability to sense other people's emotions, coupled with the ability to imagine what someone else might be thinking or feeling.
To help clarify the difference between empathy and sympathy, I highly recommend this short piece by RSA Shorts and Brené Brown.
Considering these definitions, I think the difference is that self-empathy helps me tune in to what I am feeling, and if I extend it to NVC terms, what I am needing. These can be positive or *negative experiences. When in self-empathy, I am simply aware of what's going on inside me.
Empathy is a component of compassion, but what differentiates compassion is the desire to do something about the suffering. When my empathy is extended into action, I'm now feeling compassion. This then would mean that when I'm in self-compassion, I'm taking active steps to relieve my suffering.
Maybe these terms aren't different at all. I think the act of acknowledging one's feelings and needs is in itself an act of compassion. Perhaps this whole exploration is simply a matter of semantics. Another example of why it's important to look beyond words. Because when we really tune in, it's the silence and stillness that truly connects. Words are no longer needed.
- If you are a teacher curious about self-compassion, or want to learn more about how self-compassion relates to you, please "like" our Self-Compassion for Teachers Facebook page for information and inspiration. You'll also get an explanation about the red thumb you see holding the brick in the picture.
- This post is a continuation of my blog Compassion Training blog series. Although this post doesn't talk about the impact of compassion on teaching, the intention of the series is to make this connection.
- For self-compassion practices online, please check out Kristin Neff's exercises and guided meditations, as well as the resources offered at Center for Mindful Self-Compassion.
* The more intimate we are with our emotions, the more adept we'll be in both containing and expressing them, so that their presence serves rather than hinders us and those with whom we're in contact. In this sense, there are no unwholesome or negative emotions—only unwholesome or negative things we do with them. Emotional intimacy allows us to make the best possible use of all our emotions—and it enhances the relationship. – Robert Augustus Masters, Emotional Intimacy (scroll down to "Introduction: Into theHeart of Emotion")


text:
African press review 11 October 2018
Issued on: Modified:
The continued strength of the US dollar could make it difficult for some African countries to pay back their borrowings. Freetown is not, after all going to get a new airport. And what have Cosatu and the South African Communist Party got against the new finance minister?
Kenya, Rwanda and Tanzania are among 14 sub-Saharan nations that will struggle to pay their loans, according to the World Bank.
This is the top story in regional paper the East African.
The global lender warns that the three regional economies, which have debt maturities starting in 2020, are currently facing rising currency risk that could jeopardise their loan repayments. In simple terms, the declining value of local currencies like the shilling or the Rwandan franc mean that the governments in Nairobi, Kigali and Dar will have to spend more to buy the foreign currency they need to pay their debts. The fact that the dollar, the base currency for international transactions, continues to strengthen is not helping either.
Freetown's airport project crashes
Sierra Leone's new government has cancelled the controversial Chinese airport project sanctioned by the previous administration under Ernest Bai Koroma.
The construction of the 300 million euro airport, which began earlier this year, was being funded by a Chinese loan, which the government now says it cannot afford to repay.
The proposed Mamamah International Airport is located 40 km from Freetown, and was intended to replace the current one in the town of Lungi.
The problem with Lungi is that it's on the other side of the estuary from the capital, and you need to take a ferry to get to it.
Construction at Mamamah began last March, just one week before Koroma lost the presidency to General Maada Bio.
The World Bank and IMF both strenuously opposed the project, saying that the West African nation had more important priorities than building a new airport, which would increase its debt burden.
Deng Alor returns to Juba
South Sudan opposition leader Deng Alor has returned to Juba.
This morning's Sudan Tribune describes Alor as a leading member of the SPLM-Former Detainees faction, and the first opposition leader to return to the South Sudanese capital since the signing of the revitalized peace agreement last September.
The Tribune says that Deng's return to Juba is little more than a courtesy visit, and that further meetings between the various parties to the latest peace deal are likely to be held, as planned, in Khartoum.
Old friends are best
In South Africa, tabloid daily the Sowetan reminds readers of a recent clash between the trade union confederation, Cosatu, and the newly-appointed finance minister, Tito Mboweni.
Mboweni's ANC credentials are impeccable. He spent a decade in exile in Lesotho between 1980 and 1990. On his return he was appointed the head of the party's department of economic policy.
The Sowetan suggests that Mboweni originally set his sights on the position of finance minister four years ago. But his name was withdrawn from the list of ANC politicians meant to serve as MPs after the 2014 general elections when it became clear that he wouldn't be considered for the position.
The Sunday Times reported in May 2014 that then president Jacob Zuma's powerful leftist allies were against Mboweni being appointed as finance minister.
Cosatu and the South African Communist Party blamed Mboweni for government policies that they believed led to rising unemployment and growing inequality. Zuma appointed Nhlanhla Nene as finance minister in May 2014.
On Tuesday, Mboweni replaced Nene.
His appointment comes as a shock, says the Sowetan, since Mboweni had previously ruled himself out of President Cyril Ramaphosa's cabinet.
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text:
De Botton said:
"What, then, is a traveling mind-set? Receptivity might be said to be its chief characteristic. Receptive, we approach new places with humility. We carry with us no rigid ideas about what is or is not interesting. We irritate locals because we stand in traffic islands and narrow streets and admire what they take to be unremarkable small details. We risk getting run over because we are intrigued by the roof of a government building or an inscription on a wall…We are alive to the layers of history beneath the present and take notes and photographs."
On Transit & Transportation
The bookends of a trip:
To get somewhere and back, there is the actual action of travel, covering the miles or steps to your destination and then re-covering those miles or steps back home or your original starting point, or somewhere entirely new.
When I was little:
Transportation: cars, bikes, subway rides accompanied by parents and my own two feet.
Motion of Subways:
I sit, I wait, I tap my feet, I lean over platform, I wait, I sigh, I see light, I see train, train passes by and slowly rolls to a stop. Doors open, I step aside, let people off, step inside, doors close, beeline to empty corner seat (best in train car), I sit, I put bag on my lap, I lean back, train moves and I am on my way. This is my everyday travel.
Bus trips to D.C.:
I take buses to D.C. because northwestern travel is cheaper that way (I'll save airplanes for more grandeur adventures.)
Highways are always the same, but my eyes widen and my mind jumps at breaks in the scenery—bridges, waters, horses, cows, especially gorgeous sunsets and sunrays hitting that boring, boring highway.
That Friday morning, it rains terribly, but by noon, the sun is out and the air is crisply warm. During the drive to D.C., in New Jersey, I notice a river with white, foam scuds on its surface. It looks so grimy, but I figure it is because of the rains. In Baltimore, we pass by giant cargo ships being loaded with coal for other states and countries. In between forests of trees, I catch sights of expansive farms with tractors and horses.
De Botton said:
"Journeys are the midwives of thought. Few places are more conducive to internal conversations than moving plans, ships, or trains. There is an almost quaint correlation between what is before our eyes and the thoughts we are able to have in our heads: large thoughts at times requiring large views, and new thoughts, new places."
Action of Transit:
Traveling entails waiting.
You are waiting to get from point A to point B. You will wait to get from point B to point A, or from point B to point C and then head on over to point A. Or any of those combinations work (there are, as you know, many, many places to go and come from).
Waiting equals anxiety, for me at least. I worry about point C when I am in point A, or thinking back on point B and what I could have done better while I'm on my way to point C.
Though, waiting allows you to be with yourself.
A pause: could be a short five minute pause passing under the East River or a twelve hour pause spanning time zones and continents. A pregnant pause—filled with anticipation, anxiety, desire, boredom. I need to do something. Magazines and books, while filled with interesting topics, fail to capture my attention. Preset words are too still for me. I fidget, with papers, pens, chapstick, water bottles…my mind fidgets as well. I think: "I'm so happy I'm in a plane again, how do I look from down below? Is someone looking at me right this very second? I should have written that paper before I left, am I even going to write it now? I know I won't—I can't concentrate, my hair is too frizzy and I hate it, but I don't know what to do about it, sometimes I'm really not a girly girl, I kinda miss him, I'm glad I'm going to D.C. next weekend, look at those mountains! They look so small, but really, they aren't. I want to climb a mountain. Damnit, I can't believe I'm graduating, I really don't want to. I need a job. I am going to eat real gelato and pasta tonight, I hope it's delicious. I hope I get there soon. I wonder what we're doing tonight."
Sound of Flying:
Eyes closed. Not humming, but whirring. Constant whirring. Engines. Pushing plane through air. No one is talking—it is midnight, New York time—everyone is trying to sleep. Occasional snore. Open eyes and it is dark.
De Botton said:
"The eye attempts to match what it can see with what the mind knows should be there, like a reader trying to decipher a familiar phrase in a new language."
He also said: "And to think that all along, hidden from our sight, our lives were that small: the world we live in but almost never see, the way we must appear to the hawk and the gods."
Down Below:
I don't hear a lot about actually looking through airplane windows, except for musings on clouds (this is because clouds are up there and we're usually down here so clouds are majestic and when we fly, we are up there with those wondrous, permeable clouds and we somehow become majestic as well).
Bird's eye view: boxy patches of nondescript land that are various shades of greens and browns; winding, swirling highways and thinner roads where it is impossible to see any cars; mountains that look so tiny, but you know once you are down there, they are huger than anything you could ever imagine.
I take many pictures.
(Don't get me wrong—I love clouds. I love their shape and how they look when the sun hits them at just the right angle and the sky becomes that perfectly-desirable-but-nearly-impossible-to-recreate shade of sunset-orange and the clouds' shadows darken the green, green ground.)
When the landscape down below settles into flat, flat plains and roads, I pretend I am on a road trip in my car and my eye traces my path. I can pretend this because I don't know how to drive.
Approaching Travel
Anything outside of the familiar, home setting.
De Botton said:
"Sublime places repeat in grand terms a lesson that ordinary life typically introduces viciously: that the universe is mightier than we are, that we are frail and temporary and have no alternative but to accept limitations on our will; that we must bow to necessities greater than ourselves.
"This is the lesson written into the stones of the desert and the ice fields of the poles. So grandly is it written there that we may come away from such places not crushed but inspired by what lies beyond us, privileged to be subject to such majestic necessities. The sense of awe may even shade into a desire to worship."
How to not be a tourist:
As much as we try to fight it, there are the usual images that arise when we think of certain places, i.e. the Empire State Building to New York, the Eiffel Tower to Paris, the Great Wall to China. When you visit that place, you feel almost required to visit that building or structure or wall, because it represents that city. What will make you different from a regular tourist is your underlying goal—instead of skimming the foreign locale superficially, you must want to learn and absorb your surroundings. You must want to leave a changed person, internally.
That Red, Red Bridge:
For me, I linked the Golden Gate Bridge to San Francisco. I went to northern California by myself last summer, in search of something different. In the hostel where I was staying, there was a flier promoting bike rentals. It seemed like a very Californian thing to do, so I decided to go for it. Then, remembering the bridge, I decided to bike across the Golden Gate Bridge.
Why the Golden Gate Bridge: 1. It is beautiful—the red color compliments the bright blue sky and the one-shade-darker-and-constantly-in-motion blue water. The lines are sleek in a worn sense. 2. I am fascinated by anything near water. And lastly, 3. The Golden Gate Bridge came to represent what I wanted to be capable of doing.
I started in the middle of Fisherman's Wharf (a mix of New York's Seaport and Times Square). The bridge was off to the distance to my left. There was no famous San Francisco fog—the skies were blue and clear and I saw the Golden Gate perfectly. It was hard to miss that gorgeous shade of deep, bold red.
Biking to the bridge proved to be more difficult that I imagined. I forgot that San Francisco is hilly. I struggled to bike uphill and sometimes, I wanted to give up, but I knew I couldn't—I had to reach the Golden Gate Bridge. Who knew when I'd be back again? So I trekked on and I was rewarded by coasting downhill. The wind felt so good.
As I got closer to the Golden Gate, my heart raced faster. That might have been because of the exercise, but I'd like to think it was because I was almost there.
Once I reached the bridge, I paused. I made it. I actually made it. Thought about the effort and thought that went into designing this bridge. Thought about how many men worked on construction this bridge, just to connect San Francisco and Marin County.
Slowly, I biked across the Golden Gate Bridge, taking in every inch of red steel and cable, feeling the pavement that hovered above the San Francisco bay beneath my tires, breathing in the Pacific-misted air, looking at everyone else who decided to walk on this amazing bridge.
When I finished, I looked back on the bridge with a sense of accomplishment. I did it.
On Being Away
De Botton said:
"What we find exotic abroad may be what we hunger for in vain at home."
Chicago versus New York:
My fascination with Chicago started because of a Spoon song, "Chicago at Night." Britt Daniel sang "She's never been to Chicago at night before the fall/and it don't stop, not at all/It falls all around/In the city/Hits the ground." After listening to that, I needed to go to Chicago. At night.
When I got there, though, I was kind of disappointed.
Chicago is basically the Midwestern New York—the streets seemed cleaner (at least, the streets that I walked on), the Chicago River was this brilliant shade of blue that I knew the Hudson or the East River could never achieve. Even the shiny buildings seemed newer, their edges sharply cut into the sky while their curves fluidly embraced the sky. I appreciated this because it maintained urban aspects while being refreshing at the same time, but it did not fascinate me.
Translating Neighborhoods:
Other cities tend to have correlating neighborhoods: San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury is basically New York's Lower East Side, where trendy bohemia thrives or the gay-friendly neighborhoods in San Francisco (Castro), Chicago (Lakeview) and New York (Chelsea). (Almost) every city has a Financial District, with their main building—San Francisco's Transamerica building, Chicago's Sears Tower.
It is easy to find the familiar wherever you go.
Streets of Rome:
Rome is in another country and continent and is drastically different from New York City.
Sidewalks were narrow and slanted and streets were made of uneven cobblestone. Many areas didn't have sidewalks—pedestrians (myself included) mingled with scooters, bikes and Smart Cars in the streets. Where I walked, there were barely any pedestrian lights, so I got to run and dart through traffic. I did this anyway in New York. While there were tourists, they weren't annoying. People are friendly in a not-creepy sense. Even the men who hit on me were sweeter with their "Ciao bellas" subtle winks and broken English.
That was what I was looking for my entire life.
It was my spring break, but Rome was cold and chilly—the days were misty and the nights rainy, and it even hailed. I wore a sweatshirt and blazer (because it was "spring break," I refused to wear my winter coat).
On The Return
De Botton said:
"We feel assured that we have discovered everything interesting about our neighborhood, primarily by virtue of our having lived there a long time. It seems inconceivable that there could be anything new to find in a place where we have been living for a decade or more. We have become habituated and therefore blind to it…The reason people were not looking was that they had never done so before. They had fallen into the habit of considering their universe to be boring—and their universe had duly fallen into line with their expectations."
Because of the trees that I noticed in California, Florida and Italy, I have a new-found appreciation of trees. There is a tree at the end of my street, right where 85th Road intersects with 141st Street, in front of the black house right by my old elementary school. Its branches are distinct and shapely—they twist and turn in every which way, but they do not bunch together into one wooden mass, they are spaced perfectly so blue contrasts the brown just right
The tree is regal.
I would have never noticed it if I didn't notice Roman trees and their dark, dark green branches that hover over the ground and Floridian palm trees mingling with regular oaks.
Returning Home:
Whenever I come back from a trip, I spend one entire day at home, just relaxing and talking to my family.
The next day, I'm itching for another adventure.


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and NIGHT;-)
Hi dear and GREAT people!!
I hope you are doing well and you enjoy each second of your life 😉
First of all, SORRY for the lack of posts. I left Brussels for a couple of days and I needed some rest in my country (Cameroon). The stay was pretty GOOOOD but too short. I couldn't make more pics.
But those ones have been taken by a friend of mine 😉
Thanks a lot BLue E. 😉
Much LOVE and more Posts from Brussels !!!
THANKS for stopping by 😉


text:
The mission of the Department of Professional Development (PD) and Continuing Nursing Education is to be a champion for the advancement of nursing science, education, and practice of professional nurses. Providing high-quality evidence-based educational activities to enhance professional nursing practice, and interprofessional development through educational activities, locally, regionally, nationally, and internationally.
- Champion scientific inquiry by sharing relevant research, evidence-based practice, and quality improvement findings.
- Design evidence-based educational activities to improve professional practice.
- Facilitate professional role development for nurse leaders, educators, advance practice nurses, alumni, and those returning to the work force.
- Create interprofessional partnerships to provide interprofessional education.
- Ensure compliance with the American Nurses Credentialing Center's Commission on Accreditation's Provider Unit Standards.
- Provide online orientation support for new part-time School of Nursing Faculty, Teaching Fellows/Assistants, and Preceptors, as a supplement to established University and School of Nursing programs
- Design/develop content for continuing education certificate programs for targeted audiences addressing specific learning needs, e.g., preceptor education for various practice settings, certification review programs, etc.
View Pitt Nursing's PD Calendar for upcoming learning activities.
ACT 31 Requirements for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania
Information regarding initial training and continuing education in Child Abuse Recognition and Reporting Requirements in Pennsylvania.
Live/Webinar Events
The University of Pittsburgh School of Nursing provides live/webinar events.
Enduring/Online Activities
These self-paced educational activities are designed to permit participants to complete them when it best fits into their schedules.
SBIRT Teaching Resources
The "Substance Use Education for Nurses: SBIRT" curriculum has been used to successfully train over 500 undergraduate student nurses at the University of Pittsburgh.
ONc PoWER
This new, interactive program has been designed for nurse practitioners who are new to cancer care.
Becoming a Preceptor
At PITT, preceptorships are used in the undergraduate, senior and master's level courses to bridge the gap between theory and practice.


text:
Ole' 4 Berry Sugar Free Jalapeno Jam
Shocked! There is no other way to describe the look on people's faces when they realize this jam is sugar free. Blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries. Our favorite summertime berries combined with jalapenos. For those who desire an alternative you won't believe the taste!


text: Unidentified package number when assigning SIMS I recieved my SIMS a couple of days ago. I've several of these packages and so far I've not been able to assign the sims. I get "Unidenti... Nayab Khan, 3 years ago Last reply: Jeffrey Givens, 3 years ago 1 1 me too 3 3 replies Problem


text:
Smart homes and smartphones are taking center stage in computer science, but University of Virginia engineering professor Mary Lou Soffa hopes to see something else soon – even more smart women practicing in the field. There is currently a shortage of women in computer science, and Soffa has dedicated her professional life to changing that.
In honor of her efforts, she was recently recognized with the Association for Computing Machinery SIGSOFT Influential Educator Award, presented annually to educators who have made significant contributions to, and impact on, the field of software engineering with their accomplishments as teachers, mentors, researchers, authors and/or policymakers.
A female pioneer in the field of computer science, Soffa has mentored many women on their road to becoming computer scientists through teaching, personal relationships and professional organizations. Women earn only 18 percent of all undergraduate computer and information science degrees, according to the National Center for Women and Information Technology. Nationally, only 19 percent of Ph.D. students in computer science are female, according to the Computer Research Association.
"We need women's perspectives," Soffa said. "We need the people who are using this technology to help design and create it. This is something that Google and other companies want. They see the importance and they want more women in the field."
Soffa believes computer science is an excellent career choice for women. "The jobs available to computer scientists are exciting and creative. The salaries are excellent," she said.
Soffa chose computer science in her 20s because she wanted to make an impact on people's lives. A warm, friendly and stylish woman, she is anything but the outdated image of a stereotypical computer geek. She has mentored women of all ages – from high school students to undergraduate and graduate students – and has advised more than 30 Ph.D. students, half of whom were women.
In addition, she works with U.Va.'s National Science Foundation ADVANCE program, U.Va. CHARGE, whose goal is to increase the representation and advancement of women in academic science, technology, engineering and math – or STEM – and social, behavioral and economic, known as SBE, science careers.
Lingjia Tang earned her doctorate under Soffa at U.Va. in 2006. She is now a University of Michigan computer science and engineering professor. Tang said Soffa believed in her when others did not. "She had a lot of faith in me. Without her I would not have my Ph.D. and my position as a professor," she said.
Soffa's research focuses on the development, performance and security of software applications.
She has a master's degree in mathematics and a Ph.D. in computer science from the University of Pittsburgh. Her numerous awards include the Nico Habermann Award for outstanding contributions to increasing the number and successes of underrepresented members in the computing research community. The Owen R. Cheatham Professor, she served as chair of the U.Va. computer science department from 2004 to 2012. She also co-founded a local Virginia/D.C. affiliate of the National Center for Women in Technology.
"Mentoring is not something we had when I was in high school," she said. "These relationships are so important. When I look back at the work I have done over the span of my career, it's not the papers I have written that matter the most. It's the students I have mentored."
She recalls assisting a young woman early in her teaching career who timidly came into Soffa's office, barely able to produce a knock that got her noticed. "Two years later, that same young woman had become a confident professional who landed a job and was ready to take on the world," she said.
"For me, this is what it's all about."
Media Contact
Director of Communications, School of Engineering and Applied Science
email@example.com (434) 924-1381
Article Information
June 12, 2014


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Insurance & Savings Ombudsman: Watch out for mis-information
Press Release – Insurance And Savings Ombudsman
Christchurch residents have, as is natural, been seeking support from each other since the earthquakes. Sometimes the information being exchanged about their insurance claims isnt always correct.Watch out for mis-information
Christchurch residents have, as is natural, been seeking support from each other since the earthquakes. Sometimes the information being exchanged about their insurance claims isn't always correct.
"We are concerned that Cantabrians may not be aware of all avenues available to them," says Insurance & Savings Ombudsman (ISO) Karen Stevens. "We have been following online discussions by Cantabrians and have noticed that some consumers either have not heard of the ISO Scheme's free dispute resolution service or don't know how to use it.
"We have also noticed a number of common misconceptions about the service that we would like to clear up. These misconceptions may be holding people back from making complaints," says Stevens.
Common misconceptions:
Misconception: If your house is worth more than $200,000 the ISO Scheme can't consider the complaint. The ISO Scheme can consider complaints where the total claim is $200,000 or less. It can consider complaints over the $200,000 threshold if the insurer agrees. If the insurer has accepted the claim, the ISO Scheme can also consider a complaint where the amount in dispute is up to $200,000. For example, the ISO had a complaint made where an insurer had offered a settlement of $223,858 (including EQC payment and excesses) as the repair cost for a red-zoned property. Following an in-depth investigation by the case manager, the insurer agreed to change the methodology and offer a settlement of $397,115, (which was accepted).
Misconception: The Insurance Council handles claims about insurance companies. The Insurance Council is the insurers' industry body. Anyone who is unhappy with the handling of an insurance claim should first make a complaint to their insurer and go through the internal disputes process. If that fails and they reach "deadlock", they can then contact the ISO Scheme.
Misconception: Insurance companies don't have to abide by ISO Scheme's decisions. Insurance companies are bound by the ISO Scheme's decisions. Where the case is settled, the insurer and consumer usually sign a binding agreement, which means that both parties agree to the outcome.
Misconception: Consumers cannot take a case to court once it has been heard by the ISO Scheme. ISO Scheme decisions are not binding on consumers. If a consumer is unhappy with a decision of the ISO Scheme, he/she can still take the matter to court. However, the reverse is not true. Consumers are not able to make a complaint to the ISO Scheme where it has already been considered by a Court or the Disputes Tribunal.
Misconception: The ISO Scheme handles complaints about EQC. The Parliamentary Ombudsman handles EQC complaints. Complaints to the Ombudsman can be made online here: http://www.ombudsman.parliament.nz/make-a-complaint/make-a-complaint-now
Misconception: You can't make a complaint until your insurance company gives you a notice of "deadlock". If a written complaint has been made and a notice of "deadlock" has not been received within 2 months, the ISO Scheme can consider the complaint.
Misconception: The ISO Scheme is run by insurance companies for insurance companies. The ISO Scheme provides an independent and impartial service to resolve insurance disputes. It is funded by its members including many insurance companies, but is not part of the industry. It is not a government body.
Misconception: The ISO Scheme can ignore the policy and rule on what is fair. The ISO Scheme can only make a decision based on what the consumer is entitled to under the policy wording, but must make a fair and reasonable decision in all the circumstances having regard to the law.
Misconception: The ISO Scheme doesn't handle business claims. The ISO Scheme can consider complaints made by small businesses. The definition of "small business" is a business with less than 19 full-time employees. Providing the claim falls within the ISO Scheme's Terms of Reference, the complaint can be considered at no cost to the business.
Misconception: The ISO Scheme can make insurance companies pay compensation. The ISO Scheme has no power to penalise the insurer, or require it to pay any compensation on a goodwill basis – except for "special inconvenience" up to $3,000 in specific circumstances. It can't consider underwriting decisions, premiums, charges and excesses.
Misconception: The ISO Scheme can only consider insurance complaints. The ISO Scheme expanded its dispute resolution service in 2010 as a result of new financial sector legislation. It now has more than 3,000 participating financial service providers, offering a wide range of financial services to consumers. Complaints can be made to the ISO Scheme about any of its Participants.
The ISO Scheme is a complaint resolution service which is independent, impartial and free to consumers.
Content Sourced from scoop.co.nz
Original url


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text:
I just wanted to mention I have a new spring necklace in my shop, featuring my "on a limb" painting on a teal shell pendant.
I also have a new tote set featuring Oakley the Owl. Look for it to be listed early this week. Its the perfect size for carrying stuff to the beach!
My workplace had their annual meeting today, which also included a chili cook-off and a military theme. I thought some of you may enjoy the photo I'm about to post… this is me in my semi-WAC (women's army corps) outfit.
I wanted to get an authentic WAC unimform to wear but I didn't like the $150 price tag it had. I opted for this camo dress which I found for $5 at Sears! The garrison cap and collar insignia are authentic which I ordered from eBay. I wound up winning 2nd place for my outfit. Not only did I win a nice martini set for my outfit, I also walked away with a new propane grill after winning second place with my chilli…and the nickname of "Rosie".


text:
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text:
Dear Mi fans
As you all know,today Xiaomi launched its much-anticipated flagship device Mi 6 in China, The device is powered by Qualcomm's latest flagship processor Snapdragon 835 which is built on 10nm Finfet technology which is powerful as well as highly efficient.Mi 6 runs Snapdragon 835 chipset which has clock speed of 2.45GHz and also has Adreno 540 GPU and along with 6GB of RAM.Talking about display Mi 6 is having 5.15″ 1080p fullHD screen and has a new 4-sided 3D glass. Mi 6 is made from stainless steel metal which makes it resistant from wear and tear. The phone is also splash resistant. Phone does not have a headphone jack and it has USB Type-C. Mi 6 comes with a new Wi-Fi technology, called 2×2 dual Wi-Fi. This new Wi-Fi technology will increase connectivity and speed. The device has dual stereo speakers for the richer audio experience.Talking about 12MP wide-angle telephoto camera, which is first in a 5.15″ smartphone with dual camera (12 and 8 megapixels). As per Xiaomi, Mi 6 camera provides 2x optical lossless zoom that takes clearer shots, even at a distance. It provides 10X digital zoom with ISP algorithm. It has also 4-axis OIS (Optical image optimization) for stable video recording. The front camera has an 8 megapixel sensor, more than enough to make video calls and take "selfies". Mi 6 is equipped with 3350 mAh battery which supports Quick charge 4.0. It also has UFS 2.1 technology which is faster than normal eMMC 5.0 storage. Smartphone runs on Android Nougat and MIUI 8 It comes in Black, Blue and Silver color variants and price starts at CNY 2,499.
So What Do you Think About the new Legend Let Us Know In Comments
Source All The image Credits goes to mydrivers team
Number of participants 15 Experience +104 Pack Reason


text:
Am taking a plane to Bangalore in a few hours. This trip is to meet with my colleagues at Novell/Bangalore who will be working in Mono (starting next week) and also to attend the Bangalore Linux Conference. Will be talking about Mono as a development platform, and meeting with some of the existing contributors to Mono and Gnome that have e-mailed me.
On my way back, am planning on stopping by Germany and Spain, but the exact dates and locations have not been sorted out yet.
The Mono team is in good hands, with a flury of activity on every corner: we are advancing quickly on completing the .NET 1.1 APIs for the Mono 1.0 release, and a few team members have been amusing themselves implementing features from the .NET 1.2 release.
As I write this, am migrating my album from my mPhoto software to Ettore's F-Spot photo management application (both written in C#, but Ettore has done a much better job than I did with mPhoto ;-).
Lastly, I have been playing with Cairo in Gtk#, and having a fun time using it from C#, it needs a bit of loving which am going to be doing on the airplane, and will have something to check in when I land in India.
Cool link of the day, comes from Brad Adams blog: http://broken.typepad.com/
Posted on 28 Nov 2003


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If your home lacks central air conditioning, you don't have to settle for using fans or window-mounted ACs to keep you cool. These portable air-conditioners can be moved from room to room, but require the use of an exhaust hose that is typically vented through a window. The last two on the list are evaporative coolers that do not use a compressor or require a venting hose, but they are most effective in hot dry climates and with room windows open.
Think of portable air conditioners as the cooling choice of last resort. They're better than a fan but not much. That's what Consumer Reports discovered in its tests of portable air conditioners that, despite their claims, barely got a room below sweltering let alone the 78° F that's considered the upper threshold of indoor comfort.
Portable air conditioners are intended for homes in which window configurations or building regulations prevent installation of window units. But getting one is a compromise you may not want to make because they're typically bigger, noisier, more expensive, and use more energy. In fact, retailers report that many portable air conditioners are returned each season by dissatisfied customers.
How They Work
Unlike a window air conditioner, all the mechanical parts of a portable air conditioner are sitting in the room you're trying to cool. This contributes to the noise and less-than-capable cooling, as the portable unit is using conditioned air from the room to cool the condenser and exhausts the hot air out an ungainly exhaust hose that resembles a dryer vent. That creates negative pressure causing unconditioned warm air from surrounding rooms or outdoors to be drawn into the room you're trying keep cool.
How Portable?
And it's debatable how portable they are, because once the hose is connected to the kit in the window, you won't want to move the unit, especially since they typically weigh 50 to 80 pounds and sometimes even more.
Best Window A/Cs
Top choices from Consumer Reports' tests
While they do have wheels, portable air conditioners can be difficult to roll on carpets and over raised thresholds between rooms. They also need their space—the hose is 5 to 7 feet long and the air conditioner must be positioned away from any walls or furniture that may block its airflow.
How We Test
In our tests, we measure how long it takes a portable air conditioner to lower the temperature from 90 degrees to 75 in a room appropriate for its claimed size. But few made it to even 80 after 100 minutes. None made our list of recommended air conditioners, but if you have no alternative, consider the Friedrich ZoneAir P12B, $600. While only fair at cooling, it was a champ in our tests simulating brownout conditions, as were most of the other models.
If a Portable Is Your Only Choice
Install it right. All portables come with a kit that you install in a window. Make sure all your connections are tight and seal any air gaps.
Get a ceiling fan. Create a cool breeze by running a ceiling fan.
Block the sun. Close the curtains and shades to keep the sun from overheating your room.


text:
I ran into Ariel at a Dazbog a couple days ago. She and Scott are heading out soon for their honeymoon to Europe, and in celebration of their big trip I thought I'd revisit their wedding today!
Ariel and Scott met through the Denver Roller Dolls, and while there were some roller girl touches to their event (all of Team Bride changed into their derby outfits for dancing at the reception), they wanted to avoid going overboard. As Scott said, enough of "our lives revolve around roller derby already." And really, when you have all the crazy details they did, you don't need a gimmick.
They had custom tennis shoes (I really want to call them "kicks," but I am too much of a nerd to get away with that), a mustache tie-tack, a bow-tie necklace for the lady on Team Groom, Ariel's grandmother's wedding dress, a Dirty Dancing flash mob, bright purple bird cage veil, and the wonder and joy that is "shake face" photography. It was a hell of a night.
Special thanks also to our associate photographer for the night- Kimberly Mitiska!
What a unique wedding! I LOVe that they went for the celebration that truly represented them. your photos gave me a true sense of who they are.


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That's a bummer
One of my favorite experiences at E3 was playing Alien: Isolation on Oculus Rift. The extra layer of immersion that virtual reality could provide did wonders for an already terrifying game. Unfortunately, it seems as if that experience will stay isolated to tech showings and kept from consumers.
When asked on Twitter about the availability of a public demo for Isolation, Creative Assembly replied that it's merely a prototype and that there's no consumer product in the works. The developer further clarified to Eurogamer by stating "At present, it's just a prototype and does not represent a game currently in development at this point in time. It's a truly amazing experience though and brings the game to life in ways we could not have imagined when we started the project. It's one of the most terrifying demos you'll ever play."
It's a shame that this isn't something that Creative Assembly's pursuing, but it's not surprising, either. Its resources are probably best spent polishing the core game, not making a tangential mode for those that own a Rift. However, early adopters to VR caught a bit of bad luck here, as it's one hell of an experience.
@AlienIsolation [Twitter], Alien Isolation Oculus Rift prototype is just that [Eurogamer]
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