My best friend Laarni is home for the 50th Wedding Anniversary of her parents. For the first time in probably two decades, the Merto family will be together again. That is, of course, minus Rebecca or Baby, the third child, who succumbed to cirrhosis of the liver in ’05. No doubt though she will be present in spirit. As for me, I am humbled to be invited to this golden celebration. Laarni had been my buddy during the craggy teen-age years. We were members of the junior Legion of Mary.
On Saturday mornings, Laarni and I would jog the village round. Later on Laarni lured me into swimming, bowling, and traveling. Mentally mathematical, Laarni pursued Accounting and that brought her to various assignments all over the Philippines.
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Whenever I can join her I would and that exposed me to the many fiestas – from the Kiping Festival of Quezon to the Sinulog of Cebu. Without Laarni’s prodding I wouldn’t have been interested in photography. In many ways Laarni made me open my eyes and view the world. I really am not the sentimental sort and really never believed in having a best friend. In fact I wondered if there could really be such a friendship.
But Laarni called me her best friend, even if my personality was difficult to deal with. I criticized the cutting of roses for bouquets, so she gave me a rose pot to take care. I used to like dogs, so she gave me a puppy.
In other words, Laarni built the friendship which I never even realized then as something important. Probably she sensed that I am not very intelligent nor analytical, so she predisposed to be forgiving. So I called her my best friend. Actually she was the only one who stood by me.
I must have hurt her a thousand times with my sweeping statements but she never retaliated nor did she reprimand me. She would just so kindly explain in a few words why things had come to be. That becomes me. With Laarni, that does not exist. Laarni left for the USA in the early 90’s.
She didn’t write me to tell about her adventures but she would softly relate touching and trying moments that happened to her whenever she’s home for a vacation. There were the few times when I wanted to cry. But I always waited for her cue and she held on, brave and ever understanding that life is never fair, but we must live it nonetheless. And every Christmas, she would send heartwarming gifts for me and my two girls. That is her way of saying Hey! But of course generosity is inherent in her being. Laarni had always been a giver.
Me, selfishly, had always been the receiver. Laarni explained one time that her mom wanted double letters on the names of her childrenLaarni, Charisse, Rebecca, Dennis, and Jenny.
But I told her that her name came from an invention of Loreto Paras-Sulit. She wrote a short story about a girl and entitled her prose Laarni, a Dream. God allows us to meet many people, establish acquaintances and filter further for friendships.
Along my life’s journey I have written my own list of extraordinary people whom I am so proud to say are my friends but the one person who taught me how to be a friend is definitely Laarni. She may be a dream but for me she is as real as a best friend could be. Jay, you are most welcome. When students started seeing my blog instead of the real short story, I was kinda thinking young people are getting angry with me. I know how pressured students are. And to get into something else and not downright into their homework, that could be infuriating.
But my best friend Laarni found this, too, and even called me long distance just to say how touched she was. So I didn’t want to change anything. What I did not expect was what you said about using this story.
My turn to thank you for finding this story worthy of submitting in your English class. I am so happy that you got a high grade. But actually, it was you who made that grade. So my congratulations, too, for being a diligent and responsible student.
God bless you all the more!. ricardo escobar. Here’s the story: Laarni – A Dream By Loreto Paras – Sulit Tell a story, my children? Yes, my dears, there is no better thing in the world than to corner Grandmother on a rainy day like this and make her tell a story.
When the sun is out and life is warm, youth scarcely heeds old age; but when skies are grey and the day is cold, it seeks a corner and demands a tale of love from old lips. I know my dears. I was young once, and I did these things. I laughed and loved like you?
You wonder how a face so withered, a figure so bent could ever have known love? Ah me, the conceit of youth. Close the window, my dears, the wind is cold – it chills my bones.
Three Women By Loreto Paras-sulit
Nearer, my dears, and listen to a tale of love and fierce hearts. Don’t smile and look at each other. It is not my story I shall tell. It would be hard to efface the wrinkles from my face and imagine me young and beautiful. There, soften the glares of lights and turn them low. Now listen, my dears: You have heard many tales and legends of other lands.
You have been thrilled over stories of kings and queens of faraway countries, but you never heard of such tales about this land of ours. Listen, my dears, and I shall tell you a story of old Philippines – the story of old Laarni and brave Maharlika. Once, this country of ours was a vast wild space ruled by men who knew no law but their wills. Your history tells you of rajas, of freemen and slaves. Among the rulers of the barangays, none was more fierce, none more powerful than Maginoo Mataas. He was known widely, not for his prowess nor for his wisdom, but for the beauty of his daughter, the Princess Laarni. She was not called by the name of princess of course, but we shall give her that name – she deserves it.
Maginoo Mataas’ barangay was bordered by the sea and by the mountains, but these were naught compared to his daughter. Ah, my dears, I am sure you would wish you had her beauty. Girls though you are, you would have fallen in love with her ahd you seen her coming from her bath in one of her father’s rivers. Her hair trailing down her back was the night without stars; her eyes – no deeper darkness could you find them, her lashes – thick enough to capture sunbeams and keep them in her eyes; her mouth, my dears, adorable in its haughty curves, exquisite in its crimson softness. Grace and beauty incarnate was this imperious daughter of Maginoo Mataas. You are murmuring, my dears? I am flowery?
You laugh at the way I talk, products of this cold, materialistic age, but you like what I say. Many were the young men who had thrusts their spears into her father’s staircase, asking for her hand. But they asked in vain. They cold not offer anything to tempt Maginoo Mataas to give up his daughter.
Yearly, in the months of March and April, came trading junks from China bringing silks and jewels to give to the fair Laarni. The owner of these junks, Mandarin Li Ho Weng, came with his ships to pay court to Laarni, but even his wealth could not tempt her father. Thus Laarni lived, her heart whole and free. One afternoon, as she was wont to do she started with her slaves for the river to take her to daily bath. She was in an irritated mood, for the heat could not be driven away by even huge fans of the slaves. Now as she reached the river, she motioned them aside and they cringed low before their angry mistress. Laarni walked down the bank to her favorite spot.
A surprised awaited her. A boat with a solitary occupant sat lightly on the water. Laarni regarded the intruder haughtily. She saw a very bronzed man in the garb of a freeman. The lordly air of his still figure matched her imperious stare.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “I am Maharlika,” he answered. “ A maharlika?” she inquired, frowning. “Yes, I am a freeman,” he replied smiling. “And I am known by the name of Maharlika to tell all that I am a freeman, slave to none but myself.
I am Maharlika, Princess Laarni,” he repeated. “You know me?” was Laarni’s question. “Who would not know you?” was his answer, “you most beautiful of creatures? Who has not heard of you, most lovely of beings? I heard afar in my land across the mountains, and I came to see the Princess Laarni. I saw her and she fired my blood; naught will satisfy me till I have won her.” “Who are you that dare speak thus to me, Laarni, daughter of Rajah Mataas?
Know you not the penalty for such an offense is death? “I know, most exquisite woman, and I dare,” he answered unafraid, the quiet smile still on his face. “You dare!” she stamped her feet angrily.
Ah, my dears, the proud Laarni had never known such impudence. “You, a mere freeman, to address me in that language, as if I were a slave! You, only a maharlika, daring to woo the daughter of Rajah Mataas!
You, a nobody, to transgress our laws and customs!” “I am a freeman – a noble one,” he answered equally proud. “I have a heart so I dare to love; I have a tongue, so I dare speak.” Laarni could make no reply. Never in her life had she been treated that way.
Her eyes glittered with wrath and her voice trembled with great anger as she said, “My father shall hear of this and his warriors will scour the rivers for you.” Maharlika brought his boat near the bank and then he jumped ashore. A splendid man he was, my children. Laarni, even in her anger, could not help admiring the splendid cast of his head and the easy swing of his powerful figure. “I go to your father, Princess Laarni.
I am an emissary of Rajah Bayani.” Laarni recognized in the name her father’s greatest ally, who dwelt across the mountains. At this moment a slave came running toward them. “Your father summons you,” he told Laarni. “The Chinese junks have arrived and with them comes Li Ho Weng.” Laarni called her slaves and walked away. When she reached her father’s house she saw that Maharlika had followed her. She climbed the bamboo staircase and paused for a moment to look back. The young man had stopped and then raised the spear he was carrying and thrust it into the staircase.
Her father, lordly in his crimson silk robe, huge gold armlets, and jeweled anklets, came out. “Who is it that comes?” he asked loudly. “Maharlika,” the freeman answered. “I come to ask for the hand of Laarni for my master, Rajah Bayani.” Laarni fled to her chamber and vented her anger on her slaves. That man there on the staircase had been entrusted to ask her for his master, and had dared address his love to her.
That evening she was requested to appear before her father. “My daughter,” he announced gently, “two proposals have come today. One is from my most esteemed friend Rajah Bayani, which I favor and hope you will accept.
The other is from Li ho Weng. He has renewed his suit this year and desires a definite answer. I cannot give my daughter to a foreigner, rich though he may be.” “I don’t want either of them,” answered Laarni. “Rajah Bayani is old and has had many wives. I loathe Li Ho Weng.” “You will have to become the bride of Rajah Bayani,” decided her father, and he motioned her away. Laarni retired in vexation to her chamber.
You appear incredulous, my children? It is only in your time that you can say “no” to your elders. They were submissive in those days. Yes, my dears. I shall hasten on with the story. The days passed uneventfully. Maharlika was often with Maginoo Mataas, arranging the dower.
He attended the councils of the barangay and endeared himself to the heart of the old man by his wisdom and courtesy. He did not speak to Laarni; but his eyes pleaded eloquently.
Try as she would, Laarni could not sufficiently hate the love – traitor. One day Laarni was approached by a slave with a message. The Chinese junks leave on the morrow, and she had not been on board. Would she deign to visit them that day? They had brought their richest silks and satins this year, and they were waiting for her, so the slave announced. Laarni decided to go.
It had been always the custom of her people to go aboard those junks and exchange their products of gold dust, wax and honey for goods brought by the Chinese traders. Laarni took only one slave with her. The Mandarin Li Ho Weng met her life as she went with this stately Chinese trader. She looked at his gold – embroidered robe of heavy silk. She would have plenty like those and jewels galore. Laarni was lost in ecstasy at the goods brought before her. All the wealth of the East seemed to spread out before her.
She cried in admiration over a silk robe on which was embroidered a pagoda and a garden. Flowers seemed to arch in life from the stems. “Would you not like to dwell in such a palace, beautiful Princess Laarni?” asked the low voice of Li Ho Weng. She was silent. “There is such a place waiting for you most gracious of women,” he continued.
Laarni shook her head and turned to go away, but Mandarin Li Ho Weng barred her away. He smiled slyly.
“I have waited of you all these days, but you did not come. Now that you are here, shall I let you go?” “Do you think that you can bear me away as if I were a piece of goods?” she questioned haughtily.
“My father can raise a thousand warriors at the flick of a hand.” The mandarin shrugged lightly, and motion caused the light to ripple over the gold embroidery of his robe. “Can your spears and arrows avail against those?” he asked as he pointed to little cannons on the side of the junk. He came nearer to Laarni. “Across the seas where I dwell in a house of gold and recline on a couch of silk, your beauty haunts me. Year after year, I have come, seemingly to trade with your people, but it was a glimpse of the beautiful blossom of this wild land. Year by year my love grew until I decided that I would have her, cost what it might. You think all those junks are laden with goods?
They are full of men and weapons.” A commotion cut short his speech. Two Chinese came dragging a wet Maharlika before them. He looked defiantly at the master, glancing gently at Laarni. “I heard all you said, thief of women.” The mandarin, lord of where he stood, looked contemptuously at him. “Who are you?” he asked.
Laarni could not help smiling. Everybody who saw Maharlika asked him that question. The captive drew himself up rapidly. “I am Maharlika, son of Rajah Bayani. My father died just yesterday, so I am Rajah Maharlika.” Laarni started in surprise, “I have come to take the Princess Laarni,” he announced with easy confidence.
The mandarin laughed contemptuously. “If you had not told me that, I should have freed you.” Now, the imperious mandarin gave an order to a shrunken, shriveled Chinese. The latter disappeared and came back bearing a cage made of fine wire. Laarni shuddered.
The cage contained a snake – a cobra. The mandarin regarded the snake for some time.
A cruel, little smile was on his lips. “Touch it,” he commanded and the Chinese seemed to shrivel in to a wrinkled mass. Fear, ugly fear, yellowed his seamed face. “I cannot, I cannot, o heaven-born,” he whined. “Touch it,” thundered the master.
“I cannot, I cannot, oh Celestial-being,” he moaned in fright. The master drew a dagger significantly. There was no alternative; the Chinese knew he would meet a more horrible death if he disobeyed. With hands that trembled mightily, he opened the door of the cage and thrust his hand. He pulled it out instantly with a terrible cry.
He fell and rolled down dead. “You shall die like that,” Li ho Weng told Maharlika grimly.
Laarni made no protest; she knew it would be useless. Beside there was a savage desire in her breast to see that confident man tested. Maharlika smiled at her, and then, without hesitation, he stepped near the cage and thrust in his hand. How he did it, I do not know. As his hand emerged from the cage, it bore a wriggling snake.
It writhed fiercely and tried to reach the hand that choked it unmercifully. Maharlika suddenly thrust it into the mandarin’s face. A terrible cry arose from the followers when they witnessed their master fall dead. But Maharlika kept them at the bay with the snake he held. “Jump, jump, and swim to the shore,” he commanded Laarni. “My men are coming and they will rescue you.” A few minutes later he was splashing beside her. No men came, and together they reached the shore safely.
“Thrust your spear into my father’s staircase,” she whispered before she was led away by her frightened slaves. “Thrust it for yourself, and you will not thrust in vain.” There my dear, is the story of the winning of the beautiful Laarni. You don’t believe such things happened in those days? Age confuses dreams with memories – I do not know.
But who can tell – love always exists at all times and in all climes.
In mathematics a '-' is a minus sign, signifying that the second number should be subtracted form the first number: 5-3=2. It also identifies a negative number, a number less than zero, such as -5 (minus five). In lists, it is a dash, and can mark the beginning of new sections, as it is doing in this answer!
- In language, it is a hyphen and separates the sections of compound words such as father-in-law. It also separates the numbers in dates and telephone numbers. It can show connection, such as London-Paris flights, 1963-1997, Yankees won 6-3. One or two can be used in a sentence to show an interruption. In printing, each of these has a different length: minus sign, hyphen, and several kinds of dashes. (An n dash is as wide as an n.
An m dash is as wide as an m.) There are rules for using every one of them! John 8:58 'Jesus said to them, Verily, verily, I say to you, Before Abraham was, I am.' Divinity has no past tense, no future tense, but always the present. We all exist in the present therefore we are those who are in existence. It is more correct to say 'you are who is' rather than 'you are who am'; but in a statement about yourself in the present tense the correct form is 'I am who is'.
Jesus was able to say 'I am' because He is eternal. We also can say 'I am' because, according to Jesus, if we follow him (his teaching and example) we too will never die. His resurrection proved this.
Are is the plural form of the present tense (indicative mood)of the verb`be' and the singular form used with you. To make it simpler to understand, if you speak or write about morethan 1 thing or person, use 'are'. But if you are using thesingular pronoun 'you', it requires 'are'.
Wrong: Is you feeling okay? Correct: Are you feeling okay? Wrong: Airplanes is a fast way to travel. Correct: Airplanes are a fast way to travel.
Wrong: He are handsome. Correct: He is handsome. Wrong: They is from The United Kingdom.
Correct: They are from The United Kingdom. Wrong: English words is hard for me to spell. Correct: English words are hard for me to spell. Wrong: She are very helpful. Correct: She is very helpful.
LAARNI – A DREAM Story by: Loreto Paras-sulit Play by: Alberto S. Florentino Characters: Narrator; Laarni; Maharlika (a freeman);Datu Maginoo (Laarni’s Father);Li Ho Weng (a Chinese Mandarin) NARRATOR: When our country was divided into barangays and ruled by datus, no one was more fierce and more powerful than Datu Maginoo.
He had an only daughter, Princess Laarni, who was known for her beauty. Men had asked for her hand in marriage, offering love, youth, land, and titles, but to no avail. SCENE 1: A RIVER BANK. NARRATOR: One warm day Princess Laarni orders her slaves to keep watch while she bathes in the river. Suddenly, a banca comes into view carrying a young man. LAARNI (covering her face with a fan): Who are you? How dare you – Where are my slaves?
M AHARLIKA (Standing on the boat): Princess Laarni, I am a maharlika – a freeman. I was named Maharlika. But don’t worry, dear Princess, I mean you no harm. LAARNI: Oh, you know who I am? You, a nobody, dare to transgress our laws and customs?
M AHARLIKA: I am a freeman, a noble in my own way. I have a heart so I dare love – even a princess. I have a tongue so I dare to speak out my love. NARRATOR: Laarni is now called to the palace by her fatherbecause Li Ho Weng, a Chinese suitor, has come with his fleet of junks to ask for her hand for the fourth time. Laarni tells Maharlika of this. He then vows to come twice and take her for his bride. SCENE 2: DATU’S PALACE.
NARRATOR: Maharlika comes to the palace. M AHARLIKA (bowing): My name is Maharlika. Our datu, Rajah Bayani, and I bring you greetings and best wishes. M AGINOO: What business brings you here? M AHARLIKA: My datu, Rajah Bayani, sends me to ask for the hand of your daughter, Princess Laarni, in marriage for him. LAARNI: You ask for my hand in marriage for your datu? Yet you said a moment ago – M AHARLIKA: - that I want the princess myself.
Both are true. But duty tells me that I must make known my true mission here even at my own expense. M AGINOO (irked): It is obvious that you have met before. M AHARLIKA: I had the rare honor of meeting your beautiful daughter earlier.
M AGINOO: What? You man, don’t you know that by so doing you have offended my daughter, my family and my people? M AHARLIKA (bowing): If I have, then I ask for forgiveness.
M AGINOO: My dear daughter, you never told me of this infraction. I could have dealt with him. I forgot, Father. As he did me no real harm, may he not go unpunished this time? M AGINOO: You’ve grown soft of heart, my dear – well, your wishes shall be heeded. NARRATOR: A slave hands a scroll to Datu Maginoo.
M AGINOO (reading the scroll): It’s an invitation for Princess Laarni to have tea with Li Ho Weng in his boat. LAARNI: But, I do not wish to visit him. Why can’t he come down from his ship? But on second thought, why not? I have never entered his boat.
Father, I shall go. SCENE 3: LI HO WENG’S BOAT. NARRATOR: Laarni is enjoying Li Ho Weng’s display of goods. LAARNI (sees a robe with a pagoda embroidered on it): Oh, how smooth and soft! LI HO WENG: Would you like to dwell in such a pagoda?
LAARNI (shakes her head and turns): It is late. LI HO WENG: No, don’t go. It’s still early. There are more things below deck that you should not miss. (stands in her way) I can’t let you go yet.
LAARNI: I have seen enough. Please let me pass. LI HO WENG (in a stern voice):I have been waiting for you since my fleet dropped anchor. Now that you are here, shall I be a fool to let you go? LAARNI: AT the flick of a hand, my father can send a thousand warriors against you. LI HO WENG: I have come well prepared. These ships aren’t loaded with goods but with weapons and warriors.
Narrator: There is a commotion. Two Chinese warriors come dragging a wet, struggling Maharlika. LI HO WENG (fiercely): Who is this intruder?
M AHARLIKA: I am Maharlika.“You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.” - Albert Camus “It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.” - Chuck Palahniuk “The fear of death follows from the fear of life.Name: Use your notes and your Revision Guide to answer the following questions. Due: Monday 5th November 2012. Email: [email protected] - contact me if you get very stuck!
The diagrams show the giant structures of sodium chloride and diamond. Sodium chloride (melting point 801°C) diamond (melting point 4800°C) (a) The equation shows how sodium choride could be formed. Balance the equation. Na + Cl2 ® Na Cl (1) (b) By reference to the detailed structure of sodium chloride explain fully why: (i) sodium chloride has a quite high melting point.
(1) (ii) solid sodium chloride melts when it is heated strongly.before ever hitting the ground? Well, this is considered to be a “Falling Dream”.
![Paras Paras](/uploads/1/2/3/9/123971325/408581700.jpg)
Ironically, falling dreams usually occur when you are drifting off to sleep. However, they interpret a different meaning. “Falling” can mean that you feel you are losing your grip, or you are self-conscious, or simply have fears that need to be faced. Patricia Garfield, the author of the book Creative Dreaming, states, “There’s some problem that is making you feel helpless – like you have no support.” So next time you wake up startled from a “falling dream”, ask yourself, “What upcoming events do I fear I will fail?” In my speech today, I am going to explain the fascination behind dreams. I plan to explain the reasoning as to why we dream, then talk about the interpretations of dreams and nightmares.
TRANSITION: First, let’s take a look at the scientific view behind dreams. The National Sleep Foundation reported that eighty percent of teenagers get too little sleep. Teens normally require about nine to nine and a half hours of sleep, but they average to only seven hours a night.
During sleep is typically said to be a person’s best thinking hours. Believe it or not, dreams are a sign that your brain is working even when you are asleep. During Rapid Eye Movement, or REM, is when we dream most vividly. According to some researchers. Dream Act The dream act is no more than the opportunity to earn conditional residency status for deportable students. It was first introduced in the United States on August 1, 2001, but it has not been approved since.
This bill would give the opportunity to students who graduate from high school or those who earn a GED to get a higher education, but would not this affect our economy, since we are suffering a similar situation as the great depression back in 1929? Students getting a higher education might help America to solve the economy faster but why take any chances if Americans are doing a great job?
Should this law be passed and let those who really want an education accomplish what those who already can get an education do not want? Or should the House of Representatives forget about this and throw student’s hopes away and invest the money in something more productive? The DREAM Act stands for Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors Act. The purpose of the Dream Act is to help students who meet certain requirements to go to a college or the military and get a temporary residence and have a path to citizenship. This will not only help students but it will benefit the whole country because people are the United States’ face, yet they only want the chance to contribute back to the country.
According to a study about 65,000 undocumented students graduate from high school most of them able to qualify. DREAMS ' Dreams are the touchstones of our characters.' - Henry David Thoreau What is a dream? A dream can include any of the images, thoughts and emotions that are experienced during sleep. Dreams can be extraordinarily vivid or very vague; filled with joyful emotions or frightening imagery; focused and understandable or unclear and confusing. Why do we dream?
What purpose do dreams serve? While many theories have been proposed, no single consensus has emerged. Considering the enormous amount of time we spend in a dreaming state, the fact that researchers do not yet understand the purpose of dreams may seem baffling. However, it is important to consider that science is still unraveling the exact purpose and function of sleep itself. Some researchers suggest that dreams serve no real purpose, while others believe that dreaming is essential to mental, emotional and physical well-being.
Ernest Hoffman, director of the Sleep Disorders Center at Newton Wellesley Hospital in Boston, Mass., suggests that '.a possible (though certainly not proven) function of a dream to be weaving new material into the memory system in a way that both reduces emotional arousal and is adaptive in helping us cope with further trauma or stressful events.' Everybody Dreams Men do it. Even babies do it. Dreams Amrit Sekhon December 7th, 2012 Sheridan College Abstract This essay will pose an analysis on why people dream.
According to the three theories dreams occur to protect ones sleep. Dreams occur naturally and it is a universal experience which everyone experiences during their sleep. The search ultimately leads to the conclusion that there is definitely a clear link between the process of random firing neurons, experiences, fears and the external and internal stimuli in the body. Dreams What are dreams?
Well, dreams are the touchstones of ones character which can include any images, emotions and thoughts occurring in a person`s sleep. In today’s living world, one spends one third of their life sleeping, as sleeping is a major component in life. At some point while one is asleep they are also dreaming. Sleeping helps gain rest and refreshment from a hard day of work.
Basically, dreaming is a method of ``relaxing and letting minds drift away into a distant world where one can interact with various people, places or things`` (Wilson, 2005). In reality everyone must sleep in order to survive through life. Constantly everyone goes through cycles of sleep and wakefulness where minds are active.
Evidently when one is awake, they are using their minds for various actions. When one is asleep, it is not as evident how their mind is at work but to keep minds active. Dream By: FY All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them. I believe every child is born a dreamer, from the moment we enter this world our mind wanders off in every direction. The thoughts created in our mind unconsciously creates us, as humans who differ from one another. For I have dreamed on and on, gone through thousands of dreams.
Yet I realized that life is not unlimited, physically as well as our mentally we are not immortal and have a certain duration of time. During this life I choose to follow my dreams, they serve as a my goals, pushing me harder everyday, each day so I may one day achieve the future I desire. Here I will share some of my arsenal of reveries. Like most children, we grow up being praised and told how we will be the future presidents or prime minister. The point here to that success is the key.
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Success is different from each and every perspective. I believe that focusing on the present which would be school is most important as it builds a strong foundation for my future. Growing up in a well disciplined family, I was always successful academically, always getting As and rarely any Bs as well as receiving nine awards at last year’s award ceremony. Even will all that, it is not what satisfies me the most. What I truthfully admire is my influence towards my peers.
Growing up with them I knew that their grades were not always as good, but unknowingly.According to Merriam Webster's dictionary, a dream is a 'succession of images, thoughts, sounds, or emotions which pass through the mind during sleep.' Although different for everyone, dreaming is inevitable, and therefore has become inseparable from human nature. Consequently, this concept has been a boundless object of fascination and mystery since the beginning of time.
For this paper specifically, I will focus on separating reality from false perception so that self-knowledge may be understood and achieved through the process of dreaming. In its entirety, Plato's Theaetetus is concerned with the question 'What is knowledge?' Although the dialogue never offers a definitive answer, it does deal with several interesting proposals along the way. More specifically, in keeping on track, Theaetetus offers the proposal that perception is knowledge: 'It seems to me that one who knows something is perceiving the thing he knows, and, so far as I can see at present, knowledge is nothing but perception' (151d). According to class discussion, perception includes any sensory form of receiving data or external input, i.e. Seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, or smelling. For Theaetetus then, much like the Protagoras concept that 'Man is the measure of all things' (152a), knowledge is the result of first-hand experience; whatever an individual collects by means of perception is true for him.
Although this proposal is somewhat acceptable, Socrates is quick to.
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Contact them [email protected]) for easy and reliable loan. If you contact them, tell them i refer you to boost my bonus. (0) (0) 6 years, 11 month(s) ago. Guest22509713 Laarni – A Dream By Loreto Paras – Sulit Tell a story, my children? Yes, my dears, there is no better thing in the world than to corner Grandmother on a rainy day like this and make her tell a story. When the sun is out and life is warm, youth scarcely heeds old age; but when skies are grey and the day is cold, it seeks a corner and demands a tale of love from old lips. I know my dears.
I was young once, and I did these things. I laughed and loved like you?
You wonder how a face so withered, a figure so bent could ever have known love? Ah me, the conceit of youth. Close the window, my dears, the wind is cold – it chills my bones. Nearer, my dears, and listen to a tale of love and fierce hearts. Don’t smile and look at each other.
It is not my story I shall tell. It would be hard to efface the wrinkles from my face and imagine me young and beautiful. There, soften the glares of lights and turn them low.
Now listen, my dears: You have heard many tales and legends of other lands. You have been thrilled over stories of kings and queens of faraway countries, but you never heard of such tales about this land of ours. Listen, my dears, and I shall tell you a story of old Philippines – the story of old Laarni and brave Maharlika. Once, this country of ours was a vast wild space ruled by men who knew no law but their wills. Your history tells you of rajas, of freemen and slaves. Among the rulers of the barangays, none was more fierce, none more powerful than Maginoo Mataas. He was known widely, not for his prowess nor for his wisdom, but for the beauty of his daughter, the Princess Laarni.
She was not called by the name of princess of course, but we shall give her that name – she deserves it. Maginoo Mataas’ barangay was bordered by the sea and by the mountains, but these were naught compared to his daughter. Ah, my dears, I am sure you would wish you had her beauty. Girls though you are, you would have fallen in love with her ahd you seen her coming from her bath in one of her father’s rivers. Her hair trailing down her back was the night without stars; her eyes – no deeper darkness could you find them, her lashes – thick enough to capture sunbeams and keep them in her eyes; her mouth, my dears, adorable in its haughty curves, exquisite in its crimson softness. Grace and beauty incarnate was this imperious daughter of Maginoo Mataas. You are murmuring, my dears?
I am flowery? You laugh at the way I talk, products of this cold, materialistic age, but you like what I say. Many were the young men who had thrusts their spears into her father’s staircase, asking for her hand.
But they asked in vain. They cold not offer anything to tempt Maginoo Mataas to give up his daughter. Yearly, in the months of March and April, came trading junks from China bringing silks and jewels to give to the fair Laarni. The owner of these junks, Mandarin Li Ho Weng, came with his ships to pay court to Laarni, but even his wealth could not tempt her father. Thus Laarni lived, her heart whole and free. One afternoon, as she was wont to do she started with her slaves for the river to take her to daily bath.
She was in an irritated mood, for the heat could not be driven away by even huge fans of the slaves. Now as she reached the river, she motioned them aside and they cringed low before their angry mistress. Laarni walked down the bank to her favorite spot. A surprised awaited her. A boat with a solitary occupant sat lightly on the water.
Laarni regarded the intruder haughtily. She saw a very bronzed man in the garb of a freeman. The lordly air of his still figure matched her imperious stare. “Who are you?” she demanded. “I am Maharlika,” he answered. “ A maharlika?” she inquired, frowning.
“Yes, I am a freeman,” he replied smiling. “And I am known by the name of Maharlika to tell all that I am a freeman, slave to none but myself. I am Maharlika, Princess Laarni,” he repeated.
“You know me?” was Laarni’s question. “Who would not know you?” was his answer, “you most beautiful of creatures? Who has not heard of you, most lovely of beings? I heard afar in my land across the mountains, and I came to see the Princess Laarni. I saw her and she fired my blood; naught will satisfy me till I have won her.” “Who are you that dare speak thus to me, Laarni, daughter of Rajah Mataas? Know you not the penalty for such an offense is death? “I know, most exquisite woman, and I dare,” he answered unafraid, the quiet smile still on his face.
“You dare!” she stamped her feet angrily. Ah, my dears, the proud Laarni had never known such impudence. “You, a mere freeman, to address me in that language, as if I were a slave!
You, only a maharlika, daring to woo the daughter of Rajah Mataas! You, a nobody, to transgress our laws and customs!” “I am a freeman – a noble one,” he answered equally proud. “I have a heart so I dare to love; I have a tongue, so I dare speak.” Laarni could make no reply.
Never in her life had she been treated that way. Her eyes glittered with wrath and her voice trembled with great anger as she said, “My father shall hear of this and his warriors will scour the rivers for you.” Maharlika brought his boat near the bank and then he jumped ashore. A splendid man he was, my children. Laarni, even in her anger, could not help admiring the splendid cast of his head and the easy swing of his powerful figure. “I go to your father, Princess Laarni.
I am an emissary of Rajah Bayani.” Laarni recognized in the name her father’s greatest ally, who dwelt across the mountains. At this moment a slave came running toward them. “Your father summons you,” he told Laarni.
“The Chinese junks have arrived and with them comes Li Ho Weng.” Laarni called her slaves and walked away. When she reached her father’s house she saw that Maharlika had followed her. She climbed the bamboo staircase and paused for a moment to look back. The young man had stopped and then raised the spear he was carrying and thrust it into the staircase. Her father, lordly in his crimson silk robe, huge gold armlets, and jeweled anklets, came out.
“Who is it that comes?” he asked loudly. “Maharlika,” the freeman answered. “I come to ask for the hand of Laarni for my master, Rajah Bayani.” Laarni fled to her chamber and vented her anger on her slaves. That man there on the staircase had been entrusted to ask her for his master, and had dared address his love to her. That evening she was requested to appear before her father. “My daughter,” he announced gently, “two proposals have come today.
One is from my most esteemed friend Rajah Bayani, which I favor and hope you will accept. The other is from Li ho Weng. He has renewed his suit this year and desires a definite answer. I cannot give my daughter to a foreigner, rich though he may be.” “I don’t want either of them,” answered Laarni. “Rajah Bayani is old and has had many wives.
I loathe Li Ho Weng.” “You will have to become the bride of Rajah Bayani,” decided her father, and he motioned her away. Laarni retired in vexation to her chamber. You appear incredulous, my children? It is only in your time that you can say “no” to your elders. They were submissive in those days.
Yes, my dears. I shall hasten on with the story. The days passed uneventfully.
Maharlika was often with Maginoo Mataas, arranging the dower. He attended the councils of the barangay and endeared himself to the heart of the old man by his wisdom and courtesy. He did not speak to Laarni; but his eyes pleaded eloquently.
Try as she would, Laarni could not sufficiently hate the love – traitor. One day Laarni was approached by a slave with a message. The Chinese junks leave on the morrow, and she had not been on board. Would she deign to visit them that day? They had brought their richest silks and satins this year, and they were waiting for her, so the slave announced.
Laarni decided to go. It had been always the custom of her people to go aboard those junks and exchange their products of gold dust, wax and honey for goods brought by the Chinese traders. Laarni took only one slave with her. The Mandarin Li Ho Weng met her life as she went with this stately Chinese trader.
She looked at his gold – embroidered robe of heavy silk. She would have plenty like those and jewels galore. Laarni was lost in ecstasy at the goods brought before her.
All the wealth of the East seemed to spread out before her. She cried in admiration over a silk robe on which was embroidered a pagoda and a garden. Flowers seemed to arch in life from the stems. “Would you not like to dwell in such a palace, beautiful Princess Laarni?” asked the low voice of Li Ho Weng. She was silent.
“There is such a place waiting for you most gracious of women,” he continued. Laarni shook her head and turned to go away, but Mandarin Li Ho Weng barred her away. He smiled slyly.
“I have waited of you all these days, but you did not come. Now that you are here, shall I let you go?” “Do you think that you can bear me away as if I were a piece of goods?” she questioned haughtily. “My father can raise a thousand warriors at the flick of a hand.” The mandarin shrugged lightly, and motion caused the light to ripple over the gold embroidery of his robe. “Can your spears and arrows avail against those?” he asked as he pointed to little cannons on the side of the junk. He came nearer to Laarni. “Across the seas where I dwell in a house of gold and recline on a couch of silk, your beauty haunts me. Year after year, I have come, seemingly to trade with your people, but it was a glimpse of the beautiful blossom of this wild land.
Year by year my love grew until I decided that I would have her, cost what it might. You think all those junks are laden with goods? They are full of men and weapons.” A commotion cut short his speech. Two Chinese came dragging a wet Maharlika before them.
He looked defiantly at the master, glancing gently at Laarni. “I heard all you said, thief of women.” The mandarin, lord of where he stood, looked contemptuously at him. “Who are you?” he asked. Laarni could not help smiling. Everybody who saw Maharlika asked him that question.
The captive drew himself up rapidly. “I am Maharlika, son of Rajah Bayani. My father died just yesterday, so I am Rajah Maharlika.” Laarni started in surprise, “I have come to take the Princess Laarni,” he announced with easy confidence. The mandarin laughed contemptuously. “If you had not told me that, I should have freed you.” Now, the imperious mandarin gave an order to a shrunken, shriveled Chinese. The latter disappeared and came back bearing a cage made of fine wire. Laarni shuddered.
The cage contained a snake – a cobra. The mandarin regarded the snake for some time. A cruel, little smile was on his lips. “Touch it,” he commanded and the Chinese seemed to shrivel in to a wrinkled mass.
Fear, ugly fear, yellowed his seamed face. “I cannot, I cannot, o heaven-born,” he whined. “Touch it,” thundered the master.
“I cannot, I cannot, oh Celestial-being,” he moaned in fright. The master drew a dagger significantly. There was no alternative; the Chinese knew he would meet a more horrible death if he disobeyed. With hands that trembled mightily, he opened the door of the cage and thrust his hand. He pulled it out instantly with a terrible cry. He fell and rolled down dead.
“You shall die like that,” Li ho Weng told Maharlika grimly. Laarni made no protest; she knew it would be useless.
Beside there was a savage desire in her breast to see that confident man tested. Maharlika smiled at her, and then, without hesitation, he stepped near the cage and thrust in his hand. How he did it, I do not know. As his hand emerged from the cage, it bore a wriggling snake. It writhed fiercely and tried to reach the hand that choked it unmercifully.
Maharlika suddenly thrust it into the mandarin’s face. A terrible cry arose from the followers when they witnessed their master fall dead. But Maharlika kept them at the bay with the snake he held. “Jump, jump, and swim to the shore,” he commanded Laarni. “My men are coming and they will rescue you.” A few minutes later he was splashing beside her.
No men came, and together they reached the shore safely. “Thrust your spear into my father’s staircase,” she whispered before she was led away by her frightened slaves. “Thrust it for yourself, and you will not thrust in vain.” There my dear, is the story of the winning of the beautiful Laarni. You don’t believe such things happened in those days?
Age confuses dreams with memories – I do not know. But who can tell – love always exists at all times and in all climes. (16) (0) 7 years, 7 month(s) ago.
LAARNI – A DREAM Story by: Loreto Paras-sulit Play by: Alberto S. Florentino Characters: Narrator; Laarni; Maharlika (a freeman); Datu Maginoo (Laarni’s Father); Li Ho Weng (a Chinese Mandarin) NARRATOR: When our country was divided into barangays and ruled by datus, no one was more fierce and more powerful than Datu Maginoo. He had an only daughter, Princess Laarni, who was known for her beauty.
Men had asked for her hand in marriage, offering love, youth, land, and titles, but to no avail. SCENE 1: A RIVER BANK. NARRATOR: One warm day Princess Laarni orders her slaves to keep watch while she bathes in the river. Suddenly, a banca comes into view carrying a young man. LAARNI (covering her face with a fan): Who are you? How dare you – Where are my slaves?
MAHARLIKA (Standing on the boat): Princess Laarni, I am a maharlika – a freeman. I was named Maharlika. But don’t worry, dear Princess, I mean you no harm. LAARNI: Oh, you know who I am? You, a nobody, dare to transgress our laws and customs? MAHARLIKA: I am a freeman, a noble in my own way.
I have a heart so I dare love – even a princess. I have a tongue so I dare to speak out my love. NARRATOR: Laarni is now called to the palace by her fatherbecause Li Ho Weng, a Chinese suitor, has come with his fleet of junks to ask for her hand for the fourth time. Laarni tells Maharlika of this. He then vows to come twice and take her for his bride.
SCENE 2: DATU’S PALACE. NARRATOR: Maharlika comes to the palace. MAHARLIKA (bowing): My name is Maharlika.
Our datu, Rajah Bayani, and I bring you greetings and best wishes. MAGINOO: What business brings you here? MAHARLIKA: My datu, Rajah Bayani, sends me to ask for the hand of your daughter, Princess Laarni, in marriage for him.
LAARNI: You ask for my hand in marriage for your datu? Yet you said a moment ago – MAHARLIKA: - that I want the princess myself. Both are true.
But duty tells me that I must make known my true mission here even at my own expense. MAGINOO (irked): It is obvious that you have met before. MAHARLIKA: I had the rare honor of meeting your beautiful daughter earlier.
MAGINOO: What? You man, don’t you know that by so doing you have offended my daughter, my family and my people?
MAHARLIKA (bowing): If I have, then I ask for forgiveness. MAGINOO: My dear daughter, you never told me of this infraction. I could have dealt with him. I forgot, Father. As he did me no real harm, may he not go unpunished this time? MAGINOO: You’ve grown soft of heart, my dear – well, your wishes shall be heeded. NARRATOR: A slave hands a scroll to Datu Maginoo.
MAGINOO (reading the scroll): It’s an invitation for Princess Laarni to have tea with Li Ho Weng in his boat. LAARNI: But, I do not wish to visit him. Why can’t he come down from his ship? But on second thought, why not?
I have never entered his boat. Father, I shall go. SCENE 3: LI HO WENG’S BOAT. NARRATOR: Laarni is enjoying Li Ho Weng’s display of goods.
LAARNI (sees a robe with a pagoda embroidered on it): Oh, how smooth and soft! LI HO WENG: Would you like to dwell in such a pagoda?
LAARNI (shakes her head and turns): It is late. LI HO WENG: No, don’t go. It’s still early. There are more things below deck that you should not miss. (stands in her way) I can’t let you go yet. LAARNI: I have seen enough.
Please let me pass. LI HO WENG (in a stern voice):I have been waiting for you since my fleet dropped anchor. Now that you are here, shall I be a fool to let you go?
LAARNI: AT the flick of a hand, my father can send a thousand warriors against you. LI HO WENG: I have come well prepared. These ships aren’t loaded with goods but with weapons and warriors. Narrator: There is a commotion. Two Chinese warriors come dragging a wet, struggling Maharlika. LI HO WENG (fiercely): Who is this intruder?
MAHARLIKA: I am Maharlika. I came to take Laarni with me. LI HO WENG: You, young boy of no title and of low breed, want this princess? MAHARLIKA: I am a freeman.
Let the princess go. LI HO WENG: And what makes you think, you, all alone, can make me do this?
Don’t you see these guns, these warriors? MAHARLIKA: I have my own men, too, out there in their bancas.
Narrator: Li Ho Weng instructs a warrior to get a wire cage with a cobra. He orders him to thrust his hand into it. He does so and drops dead.
LI HO WENG: You shall die like that! You impudent youth! LAARNI: Spare Maharlika, let him go. LI HO WENG: So that he might be free to claim you? If you will come with me.
NARRATOR: Maharlika frees himself quickly, pulls out the cobra and thrusts it into Li Ho Weng’s face who falls dead. The warriors surround Maharlika but his warriors clamber up the sides of the boat to disperse the enemy. The warriors flee in different directions.