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I’m hosting the 10th edition for the fourth year of Grand Rounds today at my health blog, Prudence, M.D.
What is Grand Rounds, anyway?
Grand Rounds is a weekly rotating blog carnival of the best of the medical blogosphere. Each week, usually on a Tuesday, a blogger will host in his site links to posts of different bloggers about medicine, medical life, experiences with doctors, nurses, and patients, commentaries and reviews about medical news and drugs…actually, anything that is related to medicine and health care.
So, if you’re interested in participating, just check out Grand Rounds later at my health blog, which would be available online today, November 27, 2007, 3:00 p.m. in the Philippines (and that would be about 2:00 - 3:00 a.m. EST).
photo from Yahoo! News
Some people just can get so abusive with their rights for free speech. Yes, we can say what we have in mind and we have the right to do so. But shouldn't we be also responsible as to how we use our rights to free speech? Haven't we got enough hate in this world that they have to add to it?
Kansas-based Westboro Baptist Church is a radical anti-gay church who are notorious for picketing funerals of fallen U.S. soldiers to spread their message that "God hates America" and that the war is a "punishment for being tolerant to homosexuals".
And as they wont to do, they have picketed Matthew Snyder's funeral, thanking God for dead soldiers. Albert Snyder, father of Matthew, sued the church for disrupting their privacy and, winning the verdict, was awarded almost 11 million dollars. The Westboro Baptist Church, though, insists that it will win the case on appeal, invoking their constitutional rights to free speech.
For more details, read the news article here.
I think one of the things that blogging has taught me is to recognize that a lot of people will have different view on different issues and that these differences can lead to a lot of arguments but the way those arguments are handled speak a lot of the maturity of those involved. Also, blogging has taught me to be more tolerant of opposing views. These lessons, for sure, should spill over to the real life and not just here in the Matrix that we know as the Blogosphere.
In this case, I'd agree that Westboro Baptist Church has been way out of line. Though we have the right to express what we feel and what we think, there are proper avenues for that. Television, newspapers, radio, and many more others that are accessible especially for a group this large. And definitely, somebody's funeral is not the proper place and time for that. Even if they'd say they're on a public road and are entitled to the use of that road, they have to remember that their picketing is going to affect the burial/funeral directly and it is an event that requires privacy. Their rights to speech does not entitle them to trample upon the rights of other people.
Also, I feel for the family of the bereaved. Here is a group of people who're grieving for the loss of a son/brother/cousin and there's a bunch of shouting people outside their residence thanking God for killing soldiers. The least they could do is be sensitive to that need of those people to be left alone. They could have just taken their protest somewhere else.
And as for the content of their protest, I don't think it's even that socially relevant that they have to bring it out on the streets. I mean, they really do think they are messengers from God and that God wanted to tell his people that they are doomed? I cannot even see the point of such protests.
Personally, I would want to put a stop at such protests. Calling other people fags or telling them that they're doomed to hell for being intolerant to homosexuals isn't going to do anything good for the society. And in a world that is already burdened with so much hate and pain, that kind of bigotry is already unwarranted.
Remember, our freedom is not absolute because if it is, there would only be chaos and we would soon fall to ruins.
Say, it's Halloween and it's one of my favorite holidays, though here in the Philippines, we do celebrate it differently than how I would like it. I don't know. I'm not that fond of scary shit but I just like that atmosphere of people talking about scary shit. I usually get scared easily, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I like gothic stuff, sometimes I don't. It's really strange, 'tis love for Halloween and all things scary.
So, in celebration of Halloween in this blog (since I'm bereft of my main blog due to its exceeded bandwidth limit error which I think is hacker-induced), I'm telling you some scary stories, two of which I have directly experienced myself, and the other one, I've been involved somehow. After all, most of us do get the kicks out of telling scary stories and making others jump out of their skins. Haha.
Let's begin.
* * * * *
Spirit of the Glass
Back in the days when I was still an impressionable teen in high school, my friends and I, after a cheerleading practice, decided to have a game of "spirit of the glass" in one of the empty townhouses in the subdivision. I think we were around 8 people then and the sun was about to set.
I have forgotten how we started the game. All I remember was that we settled in the garage and seated ourselves in a circle, with our makeshift Ouija board in the middle. We weren't taking it seriously really and were just asking some funny, pointless questions, mostly answerable by a yes or a no, like if we're going to get married, or if one will win at the lottery.
But when we've decided to ask the board some really personal questions, which aren't voiced out at all and the board began answering almost accurately, we all felt scared, perhaps because how could anyone know what the other person was thinking and know the answer to such a question? And questions that were asked were mostly of the kind that the only person who could answer it was the person who asked the question.
The only one question I remembered asking the board was: when did I start my menstrual period? This is something I know that most of the people in the circle didn't know, even my two bestfriends.
And just imagine the shock that I had when I barely finished asking the question in my mind and the glass moved smoothly and surely towards the number 9. I had my menarche at the age of 9. And I swear my finger was only barely touching the glass, like what the others were doing, and yet the glass continued to move to 9 and hovered there, drawing a circle and then settling on the spot.
Then, we started asking the board to predict the future: What are the initials of the person I'm going to marry? What school am I going to for college? What year will I go to the U.S.? Some of the answers were clear, while others were vague. Sometimes the glass wouldn't move at all.
In the end, we asked the spirit its name.
It spelled B-E-E-L-Z-
We didn't finish the reading of the next letters of the name because, frankly, those first five letters were scary enough that we all ran scampered away from the place. I remember that it seemed the wind was colder and harsher that night.
The next day, though frightened, we returned to the "scene of the crime". Our makeshift Ouija board was gone and there were glass splinters and pieces on the garage floor. Probably the night wind blew the things away.
And we went on with our lives after that. However, I can't help but look back at that time of our lives, especially when one of my bestfriends (who was also there at the game) died 3 months after being diagnosed of leukemia (and only several months after that game). It seemed that one way or another, all of us who were in that game experienced some sort of unfortunate incident in our lives, with one attempting suicide, another being miserable all the time, and another whose family suffered bankruptcy.
I do not claim that having played the game made us all unlucky. It could all be coincidence. Or perhaps we disturbed something in the place that caused a lot of negative energies that influenced our behavior. It could be just ideomotor effect. I really do not know. But I think, this experience has become one of the reasons why I'm interested in knowing more of the paranormal, to debunk or to explain whatever such experiences bring.
* * * * *
The House By the Cliff
I think it was the summer of 2002 that my high school friends and I went to Baguio for a vacation. A friend borrowed a company guest house nestled somewhere in Benguet. We had a Dodge van (a "roving motel" I call it, because of the color of lights inside and the way those lights were placed inside the vehicle and also because of the seats that can be converted to one large bed) that can accommodate all of us and take us to the places we wanted to visit and a driver to boot. What more can we ask for then, right?
One night, we came home from a gimmick at Padi's Point. I remember that we weren't drunk then but we're all extremely sleepy, probably because of the cold. But it wasn't really a problem anyway since there's the driver to take us home.
We turned the seats into a bed and we were all lying down at the back of the van. Some were already snoozing but I remember Serj and I being awake still (and, of course, the driver). Then I noticed that the van began a series of running and stopping short then running again. I wondered what the problem was but didn't ask the driver. I didn't think it's because he was sleepy because he had plenty enough sleep before going out. I looked out of the window through the blinds but didn't see much because of some night fog. All I can see was that we're traveling alone on that road that night. That's when I started panicking inside. What would happen to us if we get stuck in the middle of the road? Who could we ask help from? We're all strangers to the area and we don't know anyone.
Then, suddenly, the van stopped. The driver told us that we just stay inside the van and he's just resting for a few minutes. And so we didn't go out. And my mind felt quiet again, thinking that it's probably just because of the driver's sleepiness that's why the van was moving that way. A little nap is all he needed.
Again, I looked out of the window through the blinds and saw that we stopped by some house with a lamp post in front and a gated driveway. I didn't think it was a good idea stopping right in front of that house, perhaps because the owners might think we're stalking their house or something. I just went back to half-sleeping and half-chatting with Serj, who didn't really appear worried at all (or maybe he just didn't mind because he's sleepy).
After about 10 minutes or so, I felt that we were moving again. And after a while, the rest of the group awakened, perhaps sensing that we're nearing our house. When we got to the house, I wasn't able to ask the driver anymore as to what happened back there because I was already aching to get to bed.
The next day, as we're going down to the city again, we passed by that road. I looked out, trying to search for the house where we stopped at the night before but did not find any. In fact, the road going down from our house in Benguet to the city proper was bordered by a mountain and a cliff on the other side. There were no houses on the mountain near the road. And of course, there were no houses on the cliff side of the road. The most that I've seen was a waiting shed, and there wasn't even a lamp post.
A talk with the driver later enlightened me as to what happened the night before. He said that the reason why the van was stopping short and then running again was because he had to step on the brakes several times because the road in front of the van suddenly vanishes. He would stop the van when he doesn't see the road and then move again when he sees the road again. And yes, he did see the house with the gated driveway and lamp post too and thought of stopping there waiting for the road to be "normal" again. He also agreed that it seemed weird that we didn't pass any house near the road on our way down to the city proper.
Did we just get lost or somebody tried getting us lost?
* * * * *
The Hitchhiker
Every Saturday night, my high school friends and I usually have our beer-drinking, movie-watching sessions at Serj's house. Of course, that would take us into the wee hours of the morning. And going home, I usually get ride with either AJ and Jo or with Ram or whoever brought wheels that night.
One night, I hitched a ride with AJ and Jo and they drove me home. My house is situated at the very far end of the subdivision. But since they're my friends and they're all used to how creepy my place could be at night, they don't mind driving me home there.
Jo stopped the car in front of the house. I got down while saying thanks for driving me as far up as my home and then they waited for me to open the gate and get in. Then they sped away.
After doing my nightly rituals and settling myself on bed, I received a text message from AJ. She was asking if I was okay. I said I was okay. Why wouldn't I be?
Then she said, when I got down from the car and was going to the gate, she saw a white hand holding the back of her seat, near her left shoulder. She thought it was my hand but then I was already at the gate.
So whose hand was it?
* * * * *
For one part, I believe that there could be "ghosts" or "wandering spirits" out there. For now, our definition of "ghosts" and "spirits" are limited to such but perhaps, in the future, it may be explained that these ghosts could be just residual energies of the former living or maybe energies emanating from living beings such as ourselves. And so, when that time comes, "ghosts" could become just another name for "residual electrical energies" or something like that. Who knows?
I'm keeping an open-mind on this one, because, frankly, I think we really do not understand fully just yet the phenomenon dubbed as "supernatural" or "paranormal". Wouldn't it be exciting if compelling evidences will be found that could prove or trash the idea that "ghosts" exist as we know it today?
How about you? What scary stories would you like to share?
Music and Lyrics
Story (from the official movie site): Alex Fletcher (Hugh Grant) is a washed-up '80s pop star who's been reduced to working the nostalgia circuit at county fairs and amusement parks. The charismatic and talented musician gets a chance at a comeback when reigning pop diva Cora Corman invites him to write and record a duet with her, but there's a problem - Alex hasn't written a song in years, he's never written lyrics...and he has to come up with a hit in a matter of days. Enter Sophie Fisher (Drew Barrymore), Alex's beguilingly quirky plant lady, whose flair for words strikes a chord with the struggling songwriter. On the rebound from a bad relationship with the newly famous novelist Sloan Cates (Campbell Scott), Sophie is reluctant to collaborate with anyone, especially commitment-phobe Alex. As their chemistry heats up at the piano and under it, Alex and Sophie will have to face their fears - and the music - if they want to find the love and success they both deserve
[ Click here to read more ]
Tomorrow would be my first time celebrating Valentine's Day alone in four years.
I wouldn't hesitate to say that I also feel a little bit lonely. After all, I spent the last few years' with a Valentine. I got used to spending the last couple of weeks prior to V-day going crazy thinking about the best gift or the best way to spruce up our V-day celebration
[ Click here to read more ]
This is my first post as Ireth. How did I came by the name? I'm fond of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy and if ever I'll be a character in it, I wish I'd be an Elf. I used this name generator to get this name.
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Thanks for visiting, too!
Comment by Tess Termulo
on Even Freedom of Speech Has Its Limits
House of Ireth Culnamo
Yes, I'm interested to have a domain for this blog. Can you give me more details? Thanks.