Unbounded

"A building is nothing more than a symbol, as is the act of destroying it. Symbols are given power by people. A symbol, in and of itself is powerless, but with enough people behind it, blowing up a building can change the world."

-V

"To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due."

-Dream
Seasons of Mists

"It's only a thimbleful of a voice, and I have to use it close to the microphone. But it is a kind of oversmoked voice, and it automatically sounds intimate."

-Julie London
Life Magazine, 1957

What on earth is an event when it is not celebrated, mourned, commemorated, nor remembered? The following commentary attempts to ordinate the most significant rivalries of our batch if ranked from ten to one.

Human impulsiveness will lead the common reader to immediately judge the content of the following list. Let them be, for it is only humane for one’s emotion to take hold of his reasoning. But lest they realize its folly, that the aim of this narrative is to shed a humorous but critical perspective at taboo events, the sooner will they appreciate and celebrate the existence of our batch. Read on.

10.) III Nickel vs. Aimee Grutas
(Directed Warfare)

Origin

It all began when this despot made a botched joke about a mental patient. It enraged the class to a point where every student banded together, and decided to make their classroom adviser their common enemy. Mr. Wilson Tang stepped up to be the figurehead of this said class in the later quarters, and lead the series of antagonizing events to oust their adviser.

Length

Organized resistance went on to one full schoolyear. Each student suffered going to class to be made fun of by this tyrant. They crept through each day, each week, and each quarter.

One noble student, Mr. Glenn Kho, once wittily retorted against his adviser when she was routinely exercising her evil influence to the class. This poor martyr was systematically publicly persecuted. He was, is and will be honored for his unselfish attempts to reveal the evil adviser’s folly.

Something had to be done. A new figurehead must step up to bravely face this oppressor.

Climax

In what was to be remembered as the third quarter storm, a blitz of insurgency from the class lead to the downfall of the adviser. One man rose from the ranks and raised the class consciousness, inspired by the satire of Mr. Glenn Kho.

The people’s president, Mr. Wilson Tang bravely exposed her puppet government, literally. No one ever thought that a paper receptacle and a felt tip pen were all it took to oust an autocrat.

It was the longest 50 minutes of their lives. Everyone’s eyes, ears, and hearts were on Mr. Tang. He surprised everyone, including the adviser herself by symbolically chatting with a puppet version of her.

Enraged, and very embarrassed, the adviser’s futile attempt to take control of a collectively conscious class was now inevitable.

Result

Anarchy! Freedom! Everyone rejoiced!

Yellow ribbons were tied along the bars of the classroom windows, to symbolize that 3 Nickel was now free from her vile cruelty. The class hailed Mr. Tang and remembered Mr. Kho for their passion for truth.

Impact

It was then known, not only to the other 2 classrooms, but also to the whole academe that 3 Nickel made a crimson-less revolt against their adviser (no one failed her class).

9.) Rowena Corpuz vs. Patrick Siy
(Asshole vs. Dickhole)

Number nine on the list reminds us that sometimes, we have to favor the unfavorable in a contention, albeit the lesser one. Whether you sided with the teacher or the student, one thing’s for certain, nobody really gave a sniff of fecal matter of attention for this rivalry. This one’s a novelty entry at best. Can you catch my whiff?

8.) Stephanie Dionisio vs. Jonathan Pua
(For the SC Presidency)

Ah, the holy grail for recognition in college admissions – being the student council president of your highschool. Only a handful may be able to claim that they ran for it, only a few chosen individuals may boast that they won it, and only one will be able to declare with pride that that person won the presidential vacancy with absolutely no established party system, platform, general, and specific plans of action.

The voice of the educated populace were put on the hands of these two presidentiables, where one campaigned for responsible toilet flushing through “sprinkle allergy stickers”, vis-à-vis the other, simply considered his candidacy as a fallback for his other application (and vice versa) to an immaculate, non-partisan highschool organ that heralded integrity and excellence.

That yellow sprinkle campaign was apparently effective. Despite a blatant tally fraud, the latter candidate lost by an expected landslide to a ditz. He then naturally assumed an executive editorial position.

In what can only be described as a campaign battle that went to the dogs, what was once a pure regard to that highschool organ became tainted with yellow sprinkles.

7.) Jimson Gow vs. Louis Chingcuangco
(Self-directed Warfare)

6.) Wilson Tang vs. Jefferlito Menguin
(Teacher vs. Apprentice)

Yours truly could not possibly have the heart, courage, nay, grace to post the professional sports entertainment allusions for this number six rivalry, on the account that it’s too lame and too corny to compose. Maybe Wil can elaborate on this (oh yeah, do feel free to elaborate on the other ranks since to comprehensively talk about each and everyone of them would consume too much time).

The gist of this rivalry between Wil and Menguin is that they absolutely hated each other in everything they did together, be it in pool, basketball, early morning line formations, classroom discussions, and even in the newsroom. This only gives more weight to the saying that no jerk likes to have another jerk around.

This rivalry went on for two school years and peaked when Menguin denied Wil of an executive editorial position in the school organ to a ditz and subsequently, denied him as well of a journalism merit award to that very same ditz whose name I would prefer not to mention.

Indeed, it was an epic teacher-apprentice / father-son relationship worthy of Star Wars comparison.

5.) Jericson Co vs. Glenn Kho
(For The Trophy partner)

4.) Stephanie Dionisio vs. Sheryl Uy
(Queen Bees and Wannabes)

3.) Wilson Tang vs. Sabrina Poon
(Chauvinist pig vs. Feminist bitch)

2.) Jelyne Garperio vs. Sherri Yang
(Family matters)

1.) Jokeh vs. Pikachu
(Everything that’s wrong in this world thrown into a barrel of lard and retardation.)

It would be a tremendous task, o God, for me to write this one up without malice if it is without Your watchful eye. The burden of my choice of words will be unbearable if You would not guide my pen. I ask forgiveness in advance, o God, that I may treat one of my batchmate whom we remembered with the most colorful of memories with disrespect.

Your most humble servant will remain steadfast to pray to You five times each morn, until the faithful day that he shall meet You again.

Amen.

-----

Sarcasm and satire are not enough to describe the eternal struggle between the good and the badly educated. Even Mother Nature’s evolutionary process could not rival the severe social ineptness of this fictional hamster’s combatant. Powers clash as bolts of lightning battles against his magic technicolor Gameboy, powered by his imagination.

Yet, with all our condescending perception of his apparently absurd world comes bliss. An appreciation that we could never see without an open mind.

Yes, he did not graduate along with us, but he will be remembered as our special batchmate. Let’s all hope that God or the devil has higher plans for him in this world.

…That poor soul.

“What’s this? You’re looking at a Friendster profile of someone you met for the first time yesterday, someone you hardly know?”

“Well, technically, I’ve acquainted myself with her for quite some time now. I called her up the other day, we’ve met yesterday, and today, I’m knowing stuff about her that’s making me realize that we have a lot more in common than I originally thought we had.”

“Sure. Keeping her resume, contacting her for an interview, peeping on her Friendster account and seeing that you have the same favorite book count as such.”

“If you like to put it that way.”

“I thought you hated your job?”

“Yes, before.

Imagine this, you resent having to wake up at an ungodly hour, and you go to work at least thirty minutes late everyday. You have that heavy feeling inside you, as if there was a looming cloud over you, everywhere you go.

And then, one day, you got to interview someone out of the ordinary, someone who made the pitch of your voice higher than usual; An obvious sign of anxiety.

You tell her that your interview with her will be good for fifteen to twenty minutes. And yet, it took over an hour. She got to talk about the things that she liked, and you listened intently.

She enjoyed the interview, so did you.

She asked for your contact details, and left you with a good feeling inside. A feeling like there was something in what you’re doing that gave meaning, that gave you a sense of appreciation for your crap-ass job.

And, at that moment, you smiled.”

“I see. I know that feeling exactly.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Go on.”

“As I was returning to the office a while ago, I got a call, saying that I should place her for a position that’s not fit for her. I naturally asserted my principle. I disagreed.

Disagreeing proved futile. Suddenly, she became a victim of injustice; she was stripped of an opportunity that she fought for, fair and square.

I was crushed, literally.

My eyes watered up. My tone got throaty. My nose got itchy.

I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t tell her straight faced, bluntly, that she won’t get the position.”

“What a terrible situation for her.”

“I sympathize with her.”

“Because?”

“Because I shared the exact same experience as with her before, three months earlier, that I was deprived of the same position, and was considered for the exact other position, a position that’s also not fit for me.

She doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve not entertaining her other pending applications for the position, only to know that she got screwed. She doesn’t deserve the frustration.

Of all the feelings and exact similar situations that I had to share with someone else in this earth of mankind, why does it have to be this?

I really feel bad for her. I really do.”

“You had to share the same despair.”

“..Go away, conscience.”

For a moment, he was mesmerized, as he was watching the prickly raindrops collecting on the window panes.

He was lost in his thoughts. Thoughts about how his friend was doing, why he couldn’t make the conscious effort of letting her know that he wants to treat her because he lost their bet, and that letting her know also that she should treat him back because she cheated in that same bet.

This never made sense, but hey, everything doesn’t have to.

He then shifted his blank stare from the infinite prism beads to the radiantly warm headlamp, to the two lonely orange chairs below it, and to the lone coffee table that kept them company. It was a charming sight indeed.

The chair seemed to beckon him, to sit on it, like he did before when he had the interview with her friend’s friend (it was a mock interview, you see. She was supposed to be hired in the first place).

It never made sense, but hey, everything doesn’t have to.

Again, he was lost in his thoughts.

The rain. The bet. The Interview.
Hesitation; it all made sense.

And finally, for a moment, he smiled.
He finally understood bliss.

Pathology in the Hundred Acre Wood: a neurodevelopmental perspective on A.A. Milne

Shea, S.E., et al.

Abstract
Somewhere at the top of the Hundred Acre Wood a little boy and his bear play. On the surface it is an innocent world, but on closer examination by our group of experts we find a forest where neurodevelopmental and psychosocial problems go unrecognized and untreated.


On the surface it is an innocent world: Christopher Robin, living in a beautiful forest surrounded by his loyal animal friends. Generations of readers of A.A. Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh stories have enjoyed these seemingly benign tales (Milne, 1926, 1928). However, perspectives change with time, and it is clear to our group of modern neurodevelopmentalists that these are in fact stories of Seriously Troubled Individuals, many of whom meet DSM-IV (APA, 1994).

[link]

We have done an exhaustive review of the works of A.A. Milne and offer our conclusions about the inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Wood in hopes that our observations will help the medical community understand that there is a Dark Underside to this world.

We begin with Pooh. This unfortunate bear embodies the concept of comorbidity. Most striking is his Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), inattentive subtype. As clinicians, we had some debate about whether Pooh might also demonstrate significant impulsivity, as witnessed, for example, by his poorly thought out attempt to get honey by disguising himself as a rain cloud. We concluded, however, that this reflected more on his comorbid cognitive impairment, further aggravated by an obsessive fixation on honey. The latter, of course, has also contributed to his significant obesity. Pooh's perseveration on food and his repetitive counting behaviours raise the diagnostic possibility of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). Given his coexisting ADHD and OCD, we question whether Pooh may over time present with Tourette's syndrome. Pooh is also clearly described as having Very Little Brain. We could not confidently diagnose microcephaly, however, as we do not know whether standards exist for the head circumference of the brown bear. The cause of Pooh's poor brain growth may be found in the stories themselves. Early on we see Pooh being dragged downstairs bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head. Could his later cognitive struggles be the result of a type of Shaken Bear Syndrome?

Pooh needs intervention. We feel drugs are in order. We cannot but wonder how much richer Pooh's life might be were he to have a trial of low-dose stimulant medication. With the right supports, including methylphenidate, Pooh might be fitter and more functional and perhaps produce (and remember) more poems.

I take a PILL-tiddley pom It keeps me STILL-tiddley pom, It keeps me STILL-tiddley pom Not fiddling.

And what of little Piglet? Poor, anxious, blushing, flustered little Piglet. He clearly suffers from a Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Had he been appropriately assessed and his condition diagnosed when he was young, he might have been placed on an antipanic agent, such as paroxetine, and been saved from the emotional trauma he experienced while attempting to trap heffalumps.

Pooh and Piglet are at risk for additional self-esteem injury because of the chronic dysthymia of their neighbour, Eeyore. What a sad life that donkey lives. We do not have sufficient history to diagnose this as an inherited, endogenous depression or to know whether some early trauma contributed to his chronic negativism, low energy and anhe(haw)donia. Eeyore would benefit greatly from an antidepressant, perhaps combined with individual therapy. Maybe with a little fluoxetine, Eeyore might see the humour in the whole tail-losing episode. Even if a patch of St. John's wort grew near his thistles, the forest could ring with a braying laugh.

Our neurodevelopmental group agrees about poor Owl: obviously bright, but dyslexic. His poignant attempts to cover up for his phonological deficits are similar to what we see day in and day out in others so afflicted. If only his condition had been identified early and he received more intensive support!

We especially worry about baby Roo. It is not his impulsivity or hyperactivity that concerns us, as we feel that those are probably age appropriate. We worry about the environment in which he is developing. Roo is growing up in a single-parent household, which puts him at high risk for Poorer Outcome. We predict we will someday see a delinquent, jaded, adolescent Roo hanging out late at night at the top of the forest, the ground littered with broken bottles of extract of malt and the butts of smoked thistles. We think that this will be Roo's reality, in part because of a second issue. Roo's closest friend is Tigger, who is not a good Role Model. Peer influences strongly affect outcome.

We acknowledge that Tigger is gregarious and affectionate, but he has a recurrent pattern of risk-taking behaviours. Look, for example, at his impulsive sampling of unknown substances when he first comes to the Hundred Acre Wood. With the mildest of provocation he tries honey, haycorns and even thistles. Tigger has no knowledge of the potential outcome of his experimentation. Later we find him climbing tall trees and acting in a way that can only be described as socially intrusive. He leads Roo into danger. Our clinical group has had its own debate about what the best medication might be for Tigger. Some of us have argued that his behaviours, occurring in a context of obvious hyperactivity and impulsivity, would suggest the need for a stimulant medication. Others have wondered whether clonidine might be helpful, or perhaps a combination of the two. Unfortunately we could not answer the question as scientifically as we would have liked because we could find only human studies in the literature.

Even if we were able to help Tigger, we would still have the problem of Roo's growing up with a single parent. Kanga is noted to be somewhat overprotective. Could her possessiveness of Roo relate to a previous run-in with social services? And where will Kanga be in the future? It is highly likely that she will end up older, blowsier, struggling to look after several joeys conceived in casual relationships with different fathers, stuck at a dead end with inadequate financial resources. But perhaps we are being too gloomy. Kanga may prove to be one of those exceptional single mothers who show a natural resilience — an ability, if we may say so, to bounce back. Maybe Kanga will pass her high school equivalency test, earn a university degree and maybe even get an MBA. Perhaps some day Kanga will buy the Hundred Acre Wood and develop it into a gated community of $500 000 homes. But that is not likely to happen, particularly in a social context that does not appear to value education and provides no strong female leadership.

What leadership there is in the Hundred Acre Wood is simply that offered by one small boy, Christopher Robin. Our group believes that Christopher Robin has not exhibited any diagnosable condition as yet, but we are concerned about several issues. There is the obvious problem of a complete absence of parental supervision, not to mention the fact that this child is spending his time talking to animals. We also noted in the stories early signs of difficulty with academics and felt that E.H. Shepard's illustrations suggest possible future gender identity issues for this child. The more psychoanalytical member in our group indicated that there could be some Freudian meaning to his peculiar naming of his bear as Winnie-the-Pooh.

Finally, we turn to Rabbit. We note his tendency to be extraordinarily self-important and his odd belief system that he has a great many relations (many of other species!) and friends. He seems to have an overriding need to organize others, often against their will, into new groupings, with himself always at the top of the reporting structure. We believe that he has missed his calling, as he clearly belongs in senior-level hospital administration.
Somewhere at the top of the forest a little boy and his bear play. Sadly, the forest is not, in fact, a place of enchantment, but rather one of disenchantment, where neurodevelopmental and psychosocial problems go unrecognized and untreated. It is unfortunate that an Expotition was never Organdized to a Child Development Clinic.

References

Milne, A.A. (1926). Winnie-the-Pooh. London: Methuen.
Milne, A.A. (1928). The House at Pooh Corner. London: Methuen.
American Psychiatric Association. (1994). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders. 4th ed. Washington: The Association.