Saturday, September 26, 2009

Why We Want To Be SUPERMAN

I just saw Superman Returns, the latest on the caped, blue and red superhero, on HD TV. Overall, it inspired and entertained. (Better late than never.)

In this movie, there is a dramatic scene, where a controllably piqued Lois Lane chides the returning Superman for his earlier sudden departure with nary an adieu; and we learn later that that stealthy departure, more than just a cruel disregard of her love for him, had also left her with child to raise on her own. So justifiably she blurted out in subdued anguish that she did not need a savior. And this she shouted to the world by writing an item that won her a Pulitzer Prize, entitled Why the world does not need Superman.

The cryptic defense of the visibly unmoved Man of Steel came and ended with the following statements, as paraphrased, and dramatized with the two hovering above the night-darkened clouds. Lois, do you hear anything? After her negative answer, the stoic Man of Steel ends with: But I hear all the people down there, all asking for a savior.

How true. All of us have need of a savior. All of us during countless times in our wearied lives need some assistance or comfort, or rescue – whether emanating from family, from friends, or anybody. Or, God, maybe?

Regardless, our lives are never meant to be lived alone, in the lonely isolation of our little worlds. And in this regard and as an altruistic exercise of our learned Christian charity, we wish we ourselves in return can provide all the assistance and comfort to any and all of humanity. And we do at times wish we were super rich or possessed of mysterious super powers so we are able to provide all the necessary assistance and comfort to as many people as are needing them. We can only imagine the stupendous possibilities if we had those boundless capabilities. The realities that can be had, well beyond the fuzzy worlds of our wistful thinking!

As kids we dream or fantasize about these things simply because of the unbounded novelty, the uniqueness, and the awesomeness of such mythic experiences to our unformed worlds. But as adults?

I look at public personalities like Bill Gates and Warren Buffett. And I truly imagine them as Superman, not simply because of their exceptional accumulated wealth. But more because of the awesome power that wealth can generate and effect in righting this huge globe burdened and precariously listing by vicissitudes galore. Sometimes we wonder if life is worth living. With so much poverty, wars, killings, every conceivable type of violence, etc, at every turn.

But with his billions under the sagacious rein of his huge philanthropic organization, Bill Gates singly can undertake to finance the elementary education of all children in an entire impoverished African nation. He can strategically spread his wealth around in scholarships and commendable projects that will benefit huge numbers of people in places needing assistance.

This is a job for Superman. Up, up and away.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Fingerlickin’ Nonsense

This blog has not seen an update for a wee while. It’s because not much out of the “ordinary” has been happening in my temporarily-induced monastic life. From the outside one might be tempted to say that it’s one that seems listless or adrift, though I would fiercely dispute that without arming it with any defense. It’s just that my current nagging concerns are not for public consumption. Except to say maybe that pretty soon my eventual “resurrection” can be expected.

Anyway, though I had been able to muster some slack time at some point, time enough to put fingers on keyboard and start grinding inanities, still the appropriate subject(s) eluded my wandering ken.

Since I spend a good portion of my free time scouring the web for political news and blog posts, still I could not get myself to write commentaries on the piping-hot items cascading in the confusing worlds of media. There are tons of very experienced, savvy, and articulate bloggers out there churning out promptly their Aristotelian analyses of political news as they break. Even the countless and at times nameless commenters continue to share their precious nuggets of ideas into the mix making one’s head spin uncontrollably trying to accommodate and soak them in.

So one is prompted to exclaim: what could my puny mind add to the current slew of masterful discussions from clearly more qualified sources? I would say nothing much. I would only either be embarrassing myself or reduced to mouthing off ideas already beaten to death somewhere. So might as well stay off the topic, and be content playing the passive role of observer and learner. And that serves me fine.

But something has to be written. The US economy? Wall Street and Main Street issues? The fields are stacked with the brightest and most analytical minds to inhabit this world. One can only gape in awe at the parade of data and charts that daily floods our social consciousness.

But surely, there must be a topic where I can reign somewhat, because I could be considered the authority or expert of it, and maybe the only one disposed and available.

Given my circumstances, it would have to be something trivial. Something of little value and concern outside the confining premises of my own life.

Now I know! a layman look, or call it pseudo-analysis, on the fingers of my left hand which rather inadvertently went through a bad accident some six months ago, and which to this day continue to restrict the hand’s full function and flexibility.

Though the visible wounds are now completely healed, having seen the last of the scabs some 2 months ago, the hand is far from satisfactory operation. Typing with it is still a challenge, holding stuff with it tentative, and the skin around them seems tender and not as sensitive to the touch as before, or when compared with the other hand.

After consulting with two doctors, one focused on physical therapy and the other specialized in surgery, I have come to the inadvertent conclusion that the convenient path for me would be through some kind of physical therapy – but to be performed by me! Decided in no small measure after the latter doctor opined that if I had wanted my hand to be restored to full function I would have to undergo a procedure that involved kilometric incisions in my hand and fingers and many months of my time both for the procedures and recuperation.. To which I blurted out reflexively, no way.

I confess I went into those two sessions more or less decided on what I wanted to do with my situation and already armed with the possibilities. After all, I have had 6 months to think about it. And how can one miss a day, or any wakeful hour, not being reminded of the sorry situation when it stares back at you right in front of your very nose?

But I did learn something new and important enough. It concerns this stealthy and pernicious condition called bone arthritis, which comes unnoticed and starts residence in one’s joints; and which typically will remain unnoticed and untreated until pain is added into the equation. A condition that will begin to manifest its dominance as one advances in years, regular exercise notwithstanding.

In my case, the accident was the perfect storm that allowed both trauma and signs of arthritis to take over and do their thing. X-rays showed that in some finger joints, the bones have started to fuse limiting the fingers’ flexibility. Funny I said that this condition is duplicated in the small finger which was not involved in the accident. Blame arthritis solely for that.

An elder brother suffers from a more serious form of arthritis and gout. And again, almost all so suddenly. Caused by a sudden change in routines?