childhood and beyond

Cheerer Ka Ba?

2013-11-14T17:52:00.000-08:00

May mga taong tumutuligsa samga kapwa Pilipino natin na pumupuna sa may kabagalang pamamahagi ng relief goods sa mga kababayan nating sinalanta ni bagyong Yolanda. Sabi nila “Sana ikaw na lang si Pnoy; sana ikaw na lang ang gobyerno dahil baka mas magaling ka at magagawa mo ang di nila kayang gawin.”

Napakalaking kahunghangan! Oo kalokohan na patulan at tuligsain ang mga kritiko ng gobyerno ngayon. Sa dinami-daming ng di magagandang gawain ng mga lider ng bansa, kung sino man ang mga ito, hindi masisisi ang taong bayan na pagdudahan na ang kakayahan at kredibilidad ng mga namumuno. Oo, hiindi lahat madumi pero may kakayahan ba tayo na ituro kung sino ang malinis? Mas may kakayahan pa tayo na tukuyin kung sino ang madumi dahil lantaran nilang ibinabandila sa publiko ang mga putikan nilang barong.

Noong isang araw napanood ko si Pnoy na kinapanayam sa CNN. Humanga ako sa ating pangulo. Matalas mag-isip at matatas sa pagsagot sa bawat tanong na ipinukol sa kanya. Hindi ko siya nakakitaan ng bahid ng pagaalinlangan sa mga salitang binitawan niya o pagkasindak sa mga tanong na kumukwestiyon sa kanyang kakayahan bilang lider. Kaya naman pala si Pnoy ang nahirang na lider ng ating bansa dahil may kapani-paniwala siyang kakayahan. Kung ako na ordinaryong mamamayan ang nakaupo sa silyang inupuan ni Pnoy, malamang ‘di ko kakayanin. Kaya nga ‘di ako tumakbong presidente o kahit tanod man lang sa barangay. Pero tao, nabibigyan ko ng kahulugan ang bawat salita o bawat aksiyon na naririnig ko o nakikita ko, at wala akong ibang magagaw kundi ibahagi ang bawat kapiranggot na opinyon ko, upang malaman din kung tama ba o mali ang bawat kong hinuha. Ang punto ko rito, “Kung ang ordinaryong mamamayan pinuna ang pamamalakad ng magaling nating gobyerno, hindi sila dapat kastiguhin. Sapagkat maliban sa karapatan nilang magtanong o pumuna, ito lang ang maaari nilang itulong sa bansa.” Oo, tulong din na maituturing ang mga kritisismo. Yan ay kung ituturing ang mga kritisismong ito sa positibong perspektibo.

Sapagkat sa bawat organisasyon kailangan na may pamumuna. Kung walang puna, perpekto na ang organisasyon at wala nang espasyo para sa pag-unlad. Malinaw na hindi tayo perpektong nasyon. Mapagkunwari ka kung di ka aayon. Madaming kapuna-puna na dapat malaman ng gobyerno para alam nito kung paano kumilos tungo sa pag-unlad. Ang mga punang ito ang batayan upang malaman ang bawat kahinaan ng pamamahala ng kung sino mang mga ider na niluklok ng taong bayan. Kung panay paupuri ang ipupukol sa gobyerno, ano na lang ang mangyayari? Magiging kampante ang mga lider na gawin ang mga bagay-bagay sa sarili nilang pamamaraan. Hindi nila isasa-alang-alang ang kapakanan ng taong bayan dahil wala silang naririnig na boses ng pagmamakaawa, pagtatanong, o pagtuligsa. Kung ang mga malalaki at mayayaman na bansa nga gaya ng Estados Unidos ay nakalalasap ng kritisismo mula sa taong bayan nito, Pilipinas pa kaya?

P.S.

Goodbye Yolanda, huwag ka nang magbabalik.

Quezon City Post Office Terrible Experience

2013-10-01T17:55:00.000-07:00

Noong June 2011 nag leave ako sa trabaho upang mag-apply para sa Social Security System (SSS) Identification Card sa opisina nito sa Cubao, Q.C. Mahaba ang pila nung araw na yon kaya buong araw akong di pumasok sa trabaho. Ang kagandahan naman nito, mabilis yung proseso—mula sa pag-fill out ng application form, bayaran ng fee, hanggang sa kuhanan ng photo. Alas tres na nung nakauwi ako sa boarding house. Gayunpaman, labis akong nagpasalamat para sa araw na yon dahil sa wakas magkakaroon na rin ako ng SSS ID in one and half a year. Ganun daw ako katagal magaantay ayon sa mamang kumuha ng litrato ko. Matagal oo, pero maigi nang magsimulang mag antay kesa di na lang mag-apply. Gaya ng sabi ko, June 2011 ako nag apply. At base sa timeframe na binigay ng mamang litratista, dapat nasa akin na ngayon ang inaasam asam kong ID card.

Natapos ang taong 2011 ni hindi ko tinangkang mag-follow-up dahil nga iniisip ko noon na dapat isa’t kalahating taon ako mag antay. Ibig sabihin nito, December 2012 ko pa makukuha ang naturang ID. Matiyaga nga akong nag-antay hanggang December 2012. Subalit dumating at lumipas ang Dsecember 2012 hindi dumating ang ID. Hindi pa rin ako nag follow up bilang bigay palugit ko sa SSS. Siguro nga ay sira ang machine nila gaya ng lagi nilang sinasabi sa mga nag-fa-follow-up. February 2013 na noong naglakas-loob akong mag-follow up. Ginalugad ko ang internet para sa hotline number ng SSS. Nahanap ko nga ang mga numero subalit ubod-hirap namang kumontak at sa mga pagkakataon na may makakausap sa trunkline sasabihan ka na busy daw ang linya sa ID follow-up station. Lumipas ang mga araw na sinusubukan kong kontakin ang numbers para sa follow-up ng ID subalit lagi akong bigo.

February 27, 2013 naka-schedule akong mag-apply ng pasaporte sa Galleria. Sa katangahan ko lang di ko naisip na dapat may isang government ID ako bilang requirement. Meron sana akong government ID kung hindi ako dinukutan ng wallet nang kung sino mang hinayupak. Sa makatuwid, hindi ako nakapag apply for passport. Naalala ko yung SSS ID ko. Naisip ko na baka pwede ko na lang kunin mismo sa opisina nito sa East Avenue QC. Sa halip nga na mag-aply for passport nagpunta na lang ako sa SSS East Ave. Siyempre kinailangan ko nanamang mag leave para sa ID na ito. Maaga akong nagpunta at maaga ko ring nakuha ang verification slip kung saan nakasaad na nasa Quezon City Post Office na nga ang aking ID. Labis akong natuwa at excited na pumunta sa Post office. Habang nasa tricycle ako papuntang post office naisip ko na kailangan lang pala na personal mong i-follow-up ang ID para makuha agad. Sa unang pagkakataon sa araw na iyon nagkaroon ako ng ngiti sa labi ko. Nasa ganung moda ako ng pagmumuni-muni nang huminto ang tricycle at nasa post office na pala kami. Bente ang pamasahe na ikinagulat ko dahil mukhang malapit lang naman ang nilakbay namin. Pero hinayaan ko na yon gayung mas excited akong makuha ang ID ko.

Pagpasok ko ng gate ng post office nakita ko agad ang estblisimiento na tila pinagdaanan na ng panahon. Basag ang mga bintana at ang tila bodega nitong pintuan ay di na yata maayos. Naisip ko, kawawa naman ang building na ‘to pero siguro epektibo naman ang serbisyo ng mga empleyado, doon na lang sila babawi. Pagpasok ko sa ground floor napansin ko ang isang malaking tarpaulin na nakabalandra sa pinakadulong window/counter. Window 9 yata yun kung di ako nagkakamali. Sa tarp nga na yon nakalahad ang mga steps sa pag-claim ng SSS ID Card. Sabi sa tarp: kapag may verification slip nang hawak mula SSS, umakyat na sa second floor at hanapin ang kartero ng inyong lugar. Sinunod ko ang nakasulat na yon sa tarp. Sa bungad lang ng hagdan nakita ko ang kartero ng para sa CUBAO. Ibinigay ko ang verification slip ko sa mamang nandoon. Tinanong kung taga saan ako sa cubao sabay abot sa akin ng isang makapal na folder. Hanapin ko daw ang pangalan ko doon. Alam kong di ko dapat ginagawa ang pinagagawa ng mamang ito subalit sa kagustuhan kong mapabilis ang paghahanap isa-isa ko ngang ginalugad ang mga pangalan na nakalista sa folder na yon subalit WALA akong pangalan dito. Sinabi ko nga sa mama na wala doon ang pangalan ko. Tinanong ako nito: “Pinakita mo na ba ito (verification slip) sa window 10?” Siyempre sinabi kong hindi at sinunod ko lang ung nakasulat sa tarpaulin. Ang sabi uli saken: “E kasi dapat makita muna nila ito at sila ang magche-check kung nadeliver na nga ito dito.” Sa isip-isisp ko “Para saan yung paghahanap ko ng pangalan ko sa makapal na folder na yon at yung iba pang folder na binabasa niya kung di niya makikita dtto kung may delivery na nga?” Gayunpaman hindi ko tinanaong ang mamang iyon. Bagkus kinuha ko ang pangalan niya bago ako pumunta sa window 10 sa ground floor. Nagpakilala si mama na Eduardo.

Sa ground floor dumiretso nga ako sa Window 10. Wala akong nadatnang tao. Nagantay saglit at nang wala akong maantay kinausap ko ang nakatao sa Window11. Binigay ko ang verification slip at nakiusap na i-check ito. Sinabihan ako na umupo muna at tatawagin na lang ang pangalan ko. Nakita kong nag-check ang empleyadong ito sa computer niya. Maya-maya tumayo ito at inabot ang verification slip ko sa isa pang empleyado na nasa window12 naman. Narinig ko ang pangalan ko umalingawngaw mula sa window12. Lumapit ako at nakinig sa sinabi ng empleyado ito.

Ang sabi: “Kinausap ng kasama ko yung kartero at chinek niya sa data. Wala pa ito dito. Wala siya sa data namin.”

Sinagot ko siya ng isang tanog: “Kuya, kinausap niya yung kartero?”

Empleyado: OO

Ako: Kuya hindi ko siya nakitang umakyat para kausapin yung kartero at hindi ko siya nakita na tumawag sa telepono bakit mo sinasabing kinausap niya yung kartero? Anong pangalan mo kuya?

Empleyado: Bakit? Bakit mo kinukuha ang pangalan ko? E di i-check mo pa pangalan mo dito sa nomputer para makita mong wala sa record. Diskompiyado ka masyado.

Ako: Kuya wala akong problema sa record niyo. Kung wala pangalan ko diyan babalik ako sa SSS. Kinukuha ko pangalan mo para pag tinanong ako kung sino nagsabi may mababanggit akong pangalan ganun kasimple.

Empleyado: E wala nga e. O, eto icheck mo pa! (sabay pakita sakin ng monitor ng computer nito).

Ako: E kuya wala nga akong problema sa inyo e (sabay alis sa window 12 at dumiretso sa window 9).

Sa Window 9

Ako: Mr. umakyat kaba sa taas para kausapin yung kartero tungkol dito? (pinakita ko verification slip ko)

Empleyado: Hindi sir.

Ako: Tumawag ka ba sa kartero?

Empleyado: Hindi sir.

Ako: Pero wala nga ito sa record niyo?

Empleyado: Chinek ko sir wala po e.

Ako: Anong panglan mo mister?

Empleyado: Gian po.

Ako: Yung nasa Window 12 anong panglan?

Empleyado: Dante po.

Ako: Thank you Mr. Gian.

Umalis ako sa ground floor at bumalik sa second floor upang kausapin si kuya Eduardo.

Sa second floor.

Ako: Kuya wala daw sa record e. Paano kaya ‘to?

Eduardo: E wala kung ganun.

Ako: Ganun lang kuya? (Medyo nagulat ako sa kanyang sinabi na para bang wala nang pakialam.) Anong apelyido mo kuya? (Dahil nung pagkakataon na yon gustong gusto ko nang gawan ng report ang nagyayari.)

Eduardo: Bakit? Bakit mo kinukuha? (Pasigaw)

Ako: Gusto ko lang gawan ng report ang pangyayaring ito…(Inudlot niya ang sasabihin ko pa.)

Eduardo: Bakit mo kami gagawan ng report? Ikaw na nga ang tinutunlungan! (Lalo pang tumaas ang boses)

Ako: (Di ko napigil ang sarili ko at tumaas na rin ang boses ko.) Kuya, hindi mo ako tinutulungan! Ginagawa mo lang ang trabaho mo. Isa pa hindi kayo ang gagawan ko ng report kundi ang pangyayaring ito na nawawala ang record ko sa post office na ‘to at salungat yan sa claim ng SSS na andito na nga!

Isa pang mama sa table: Huwag kang magalit. Inaayos na nga e.

Kinuha ko ang verification slip sabay sabing: “Hindi naman ako dapat magalit.” Tumingin ako kay mang Eduardo at sinabihan ko ng: “Maraming salamat po sa tulong niyo ha.” sa tonong pinuno ko ng sarkasmo. Umalis ako at bumalik sa SSS.

Sa SSS tinanong ko ang isang empleyado na nagngangalang Dominik. Tinanong ko kung pipila ako uli para sa priority number upang tanungin kung talagang na-deliver na sa post office ang card ko. Sabi niya hindi na raw kailangan at dumiretso na lang ako sa counter 54 kung saan ko nakuha ang verification slip at doon ko itanong.

Sa counter 54 kinumpirma ni Ms. Cecilia na nadeliver na nga yung ID ko sa post office. Ipinakita pa nito ang monitor niya at isang pad kung saan nakasulat ang delivery date at tracking number. Kinunan ko ng picture yung pad at bumalik sa post office.

Sa post office dumiretso uli ako sa second floor. This time hindi na si manong Eduardo ang nasa mesa kundi yung isang mama na sinabihan akong huwag magalit. Ganun pa man nakita ko si mang Eduardo di kalayuan sa likod ng mama sa mesa. Tinanong ko ang mamang ito wari’y di ko nakita si mang Eduardo.

Ako: Nasan po si kuya Eduardo?

Mama: Pakiantay na lang lumabas siya pabalik na ‘yon. (aba! si Mang Eduardo pala ay may doppelganger?)

Ako: Si Mang Eduardo po lumabas?

Mama: Oo, pero pabalik na ‘yon antayin mo na lang.

Ako: (Nakita kong papalapit si Mang Eduardo) Yan kuya o si Kuya Eduardo.

Eduardo: Ano yon?

Mama: E hindi naman Eduardo pangalan niyan e.

Ako: E nagsinungalinag pala kayo kung ganun? (sabay tingin kay Mang Eduardo. Walang sumagot bagkus ay tsinek ang verification slip na inabot ko.)

Biglang may lumapit na tila mabait na kartero. Ito’y mejo bata pa kung ihahambing sa dalawang kausap ko.

Batang Kartero: Sir ganito na lang po. Dalhin na lang po ninyo ito (tangan ang verification slip) sa records section, Hanapin niyo posi Ms. Heidi doon.

Ako: Ako ba mismo magdadala nito?

Batang Kartero: Opo, doon lang yun (sabay turo sa malapit).

Ako: Ah okay. Hahanapin ko lang si Ms. Heidi?

Batang Kartero: Opo.

Ako: Salamat ha (sabay kuha sa verification slip at nagtungo na nga ako sa Records Section).

Pagpasok ko ng opisina.

Ako: (Bilang iisang babae ang nanduroon that time I assumed na siya na si Ms. Heidi na binanggit ng batang kartero.) Ms. Heidi?

Babae: (Hindi ako sinagot. Tumingin saken sabay tayo at kuha ng verification slip). Hindi ako mag-chechek nito. (Lumabas ang babaeng ito na naka tsinelas lamang na walang sinabing malinaw sa’ken.)

Pagbalik ng walang respetong babaeng ito:

Babae: Window 12.

Ako: Pupunta ako sa window 12?

Babae: Oo.

Ako: (Nagpipigil ako nung sandaling iyon. Wla akong sinabing kahit ano sa babaeng ito tungkol sa behavior niya, Bagay na pinagsisihan ko dahil sigurado ako na gagawin niya uli ito sa ibang tao.)

Sa window 12 nagpunta ako, inabot ang verification slip, at inantay na tawagin ang pangalan ko. Alalahanin na ang window 12 ay manned by Dante someone.

Dante: Romeo? (lumapit ako sa window.) Boss pakisulat na lang contact details niyo at kokontakin kayo ng kasama ko (pointing Mr. Gian sa window 9.)

Sinulat ko nga ang numero ko at binigay kay Gian. Tinanong ko kung hanggang kalian ako magaantay ng text niya. And sabi madami daw kasing nakatambak na files kaya baka mejo matagalan. Tinanong ko rin kung mas madali ba na mag-apply ako ng panibagong card o antayin ko na kontakin niya ako. Sinagot ako na antayin ko na lang daw ang message niya. Bilang pinanganak akong ubod ng kulit humingi pa rin ako ng timeframe ng pag-aantay. Sabi niya isang lingo raw. Bago ako umalis tinanong ko kung bakit hindi siya naka-ID. Ang sabi niya bago lang daw ciya kaya wala pa siyang ID. Sabi ko uli “Kayong lahat dito bago? Kasi tingnan mo lahat walang ID.” Ngumiti lamang itong si Guian. Sa kanyang ngiti batid ko na may pagaalinlanagn na itong sumagot. Gayong mabait naman siya sa’kin nagpasalamat na lang ako at tuluyang nagpaalam.

Nakuha ko ba SSS ID ko? Oo. Three weeks after. : )

[Highlights] Badminton Lin Dan vs Lee Chong Wei Olympic 2008

2013-03-28T06:13:00.001-07:00

who would have thought i would fall in love with this sport? i had the most boring office man's life. haha!

a stranger's folly

2013-01-08T00:05:00.000-08:00

He sat, rested his elbows on the steel table and his chin on both palms. He looked like a blue flower bud resting on its comforting sepals. He was indeed in sorrow and a sensitive painter could paint the sadness in a very few strokes of his palette. Good thing he had company--a second-hand book adopted from a colleague.

It was a usual after-work day. He used to sit there and read one of his fave books till 10 p.m. then goes home when the stores start closing. But the usual day turned unforgettable and it started with a tap on his left shoulder.

"You alone?" the question was surprising.
"With my book." the answer was unfriendly.
The stranger sat though not offered.
He didn't look the stranger in the eyes. He didn't care. He didn't own the chair anyway.

He went on reading. As his eyes swerved the pages he could sense the stranger's eyes glued on him. The nascent irritation were starting to grow, but he thought it would be wise to hold his temper, one that would trigger bludgeoning a pretty face. He inhaled and focused on a new chapter of James Patterson's The Jester.

"You are so serious. I bet you look older than your age" the stranger smilingly said as the fingers tapping the table in a sort of rhythm.

He's used to be mistaken for a dead serious, but the comment on his age was the very first. He smiled and said "i know i look older than my age. It's my business no one else's."

"Now you're talking. Let me guess how old you are."

"Sure you can guess" he dared.

"Twenty-three."

"First attempt failed."

"Twenty-two."

"So is the second."

"Then it's twenty-three."

"Higher."

"Alright. I am sure it's twenty-five."

He smiled, picked his backpack and said, "You are not as wise as i expected. I was born in 1981. Now do the math."

Then he left.

the end

2012-11-28T23:38:00.000-08:00

Water puts out fires. So does wind. So does silence.

people learn to lie

2012-10-30T00:38:00.002-07:00

I waited for ages for signs if I could be in a relationship again. Of course pain was the reason why. My heart once was weak and my mind was gullible and somebody told me “I love you” but didn't mean it. So I quit on loving.

Quitters don’t win—sure is a proven adage, but it has become a cliché with less credibility. Thus it's all wrong agreeing with it all the time. When I told myself my heart had to convalesce and decided to cease from giving special attention to supposed “special people,” I felt more secured. Thus, quitting doesn’t always mean losing. It also means protecting oneself; shielding the heart from the threats of decisive tongues and cunning gestures. You see, quitting cuts both ways. But these were mere realizations. People are stubborn so realizations don’t matter.

And history attempts to repeat itself. Somebody came but I’d learned to lie.

So I went and played the field—clinging onto the slightest hope I would run into someone then friction follows. Many a times i would guess it happened but would later realize that I was kidding myself again. It’s indeed not easy to compel the heart to give what it doesn’t have. But life runs like a wheel. I met someone and my emotional bank gained unexpected interest. I was finally ready to be in a relationship again.

But history repeats itself. And all people learn to lie.

unwanted law

2012-08-31T01:08:00.000-07:00

“Anything that can go wrong will go wrong” states the Murphy’s Law. Quoted that from Wikipedia, and I personally declare that this is more of a fact than a mere adage as many people claim. This declaration is triggered by my personal encounters with situations twinned with the said law—of course my assessment to such situations is also subjective. I am not soliciting anyone’s approval nor disapproving anyone’s opinion. Oh, well my purpose is not to come up with a scholarly article for the subject, but to share my engagements with it. I am listing some of which and you are more than welcome to see for yourself if you have gone through the same.

1. FYI: I am living in a studio-type flat with two fellow text messaging addicts. So it will sound ironic if I said, “network coverage inside is scarce as hen’s teeth.” There are certain spots in the house where we place our mobile phones to receive messages and calls. But we have to be out of the building or race to the rooftop when someone’s giving a ring, because answering the call inside would mean talking to Ms. Silence. Difficult as it may sound, I have been accustomed to it but it still irritates me each time I wait for ages waiting for a call before taking a shower, and just when I’m all wet, my phone rings like it doesn’t have plan to stop.

2. Have you gone shopping and fell in love with a shirt and rushed to the fitting room to try it on but found it unflattering? Thus, you looked for another size and your preferred color but failed to find one? And when you asked for the sales associate for assistance all he/she could tell was: “sorry, this size isn’t available” or “sorry, that color isn’t in store”?

4. I’m not into rubbing any on my face, but back in 2009, I worked for a government agency and was compelled to put on face powder. My boss even bought me a canister of face powder so I could give no reason for not applying some. But after weeks of using the powder, pimples, one by one, mushroomed on my face. So my boss again bought me a facial lotion that according to her, would prevent pimples. I used the product and glad that it was surprisingly effective. After a month or so, I had to buy a new one. But I almost visited all stores where I could possibly get the product and ended up empty handed. Until I finally learned that the product doesn’t circulate in the market anymore! What a bummer! But let me clarify that it was not the reason I quit the job.

5. Cancelled an appointment or did not go to work due to sickness? Done it many times. When the unwanted feeling is nascent, you’re kind of skeptic texting your boss that you can’t make it to the office. And when you think you have to see a doctor and texted your boss about it, your boss left his/her cellphone at home. And the worse, you went to see your doctor and by the time you get to the clinic you suddenly felt better. So again, you decided to cancel the check up and as you got home you didn’t feel better again.

(subject to editing)

a child's happiness

2012-08-24T22:15:00.001-07:00

Happiness to a child is a balloon held by the hand,

a canister of candies, a castle in the sand.

Happiness to a child is a fried chicken on a platter,

a bite to an apple, a bowl of soup when there’s fever.

Happiness to a child is a pair of slippers,

an umbrella under the sun, a sweater in a cold weather;

Happiness to a child is a time with fellow children

—to slide in the park, to chase bugs in the garden.

Happiness to a child is the present in a sock;

the blowing of birthday candles before friends that flocked.

Happiness to a child is the pencils and bags and coloring books

the nursery rhymes, the ABC's, and story books.

Happiness to a child is the pillow fight with brother or sister,

a bedtime story of Father, a goodnight kiss from Mother.

Do you think this child is happy?

passion or future?

2012-08-04T00:30:00.001-07:00

When I was a kid…

…many a times I was asked what I wanted to be when I grow up. Answering the question was a no brainer, but never did I do it with a template because truth was, I wanted to be many. I wanted to be a doctor, a scientist, a painter, a teacher, a pilot, an engineer, a lawyer, a magician. I even wanted to be a performing artist. I was ambitious—extremely ambitious so to speak.

But I just realized that those ambitions were designed by my inexperienced being. I only wanted to be a doctor because I thought I would look good on long white coat with the stethoscope laced on my neck; I wanted to be a scientist because I thought it was cool if I could make myself an armor I could use in stone wars against kids in the neighboring barrios; I wanted to be a painter because my plain, nature-loving eyes were deeply in love with the beauty of my hometown; I wanted to be an engineer because I thought if I were one, I could build a huge tree-house atop our mango tree; I wanted to be a teacher because my grandfather was a teacher and so were many of my aunts and uncles; I wanted to be etcetera because my innocence said so. I wasn’t truly ambitious.

When I turned six and had to go to school, I couldn’t fathom my excitement when I saw my school materials. I even slept with my bag the night before the first school day. I was actually awake most of the night. Now I understand why many kids are eager to go to school. The new pencils, notebooks, bag, paper pads, and the daily cents on hand tell it all. But the excitement only lasts for days. Because as the school materials get older, the appetite of schooling wanes. Certainly, parents don’t expect a first grader to be totally comprehensive of the most profound essence of schooling. I still clearly remember Mother kept saying: “Study hard or you’ll be like us someday;” “Study hard so you won’t have to farm someday;” “Study hard so you’ll be able to buy what you want someday;” And more study hard so you’ll be or you won’t be blah blah blah someday. It was a nightly ritual and had to endure it. Poor Mother, we didn’t have a cassette player. She could have recorded the sermons and played them on dinner time and could have her fair share of the food she prepared herself. Did she know that meals always ended with her reminders taken for granted? There, who would have thought I’d deal with dear life seriously one day?

Well, like other humans I grew older. Maturity they said befriended me earlier than the usual. Perhaps it’s because I was acquainted with the facets of difficult life at very early age. The early dealing with responsibilities somehow made an unfavorable impact toward my schooling. I preferred earning money than earning wisdom, but thanks to Mother for always reminding me the edges of being educated. I finished grade school and high school with so many struggles. Not because I had the slowest brains but because I had to compel myself to like schooling. But college was a different thing, so I did what I could to finish a degree though without flying colors but with satisfactory grades. Haha! “Satisfactory” of course should not be the satisfactory standard of getting grades. One should aim beyond satisfactory to grow, and that, I did after receiving my diploma. Not too late though especially when I finally ascertained what I really wanted to be.

Teaching is no easy profession. I only realized that when I was already doing the job. An idealistic person would say that the profession’s rewards could surpass the riches one could accumulate from a successful business. Why, yes! What else can be more rewarding than seeing a child saying his ABC and counting his 123 with the beam of confidence in his eyes? Can there be more rewarding than listening to a child saying the words and sentences he worked hard to learn? Can there be more rewarding than seeing a proud mother applauding as her child reciting a poem? Can there be more rewarding seeing a child bowing before an audience after a nerve-wrecking piano recital? Can there be more rewarding than seeing a young man holding an office in a very reputable company? These are but a few of the rewards of being a teacher. I will need all the time in the world to enumerate all. These rewards made me truly in love with the profession. These rewards made me discover my passion. But I once asked myself: “Will I survive this ever challenging world with passion alone? Will my passion lead me to my dreams for my family?” I quit teaching and ventured another field. I became this and that, but still my will is craving for the one I left behind. But if I were to go back to teaching, it wouldn’t be for money, but for the call of duty.

life is...

2012-07-30T02:40:00.001-07:00

"Life's a story with many episodes. When an episode ends, another one unfolds."

awakened

2012-07-26T00:18:00.003-07:00

He saw, but only saw the beauty the naked eyes could

Many times did he sway with her scents

And collided in her soothing caresses in the mornings

Indulged in her accommodating bosoms;

His innocence gasped in her river of concoction.

Never did he see, the beauty that could carry him through

Beyond the horizons, to the bed of pleasures

That takes more than a whole life to measure.

Because nothing compares to the joy that elicits

From a safari of groans and moans and shrills.

random thoughts triggered by boredom

2012-07-20T01:17:00.004-07:00

There’s a smorgasbord of ideas to jot down even on a tissue paper in a coffee shop when the pen is on the itching hand of a wannabe blogger. Yes, I know I’m an amateur in the field so I choose my readers. Sorry to those who unintentionally come across my blog site and throw up after reading my articles including this one. Nah, nobody has told me incidents as such. I am just being anticipant. I mean, I don’t write like the pros do so beware: this write-up may break your day. It is not worth reading. I can only promise that when my pen slides, the sincerity goes with the ink. But I am not trying to change your mind.

When he was but knee-high to a grasshopper, he would cape himself with a blanket, jump from the bed, and shout his favorite superhero’s moniker with clenched fists even the superhero wasn't the very famous Superman. He would play in the backyard with other naughty kids in the neighborhood and would end up in brawls. He would masterfully patch his reasons up when the monster mom of the foe gets in the scene. Most of the time, he would get scratches on the knees, elbows, and on the face because of his sundry of curiosities. How and why were his favorite questions. He would also run after rare-looking dragonflies and giant grasshoppers and end up gasping on puddles of mud and carabao feces. The scenario would always remind him of the fantasy comics his lolo kept for ages in a wooden chest. He could be very impossible at times because he would not give up climbing trees to chase the ever elusive cicadas. And on isolated cases of triumphant chase he would eventually free the winged creature because it doesn’t dree-dree before his waiting inquisitive eyes. He could be ridiculous because in the first place he knew a cicada wouldn't share a decibel of its sound when in captive. He would then go home with torn shirt and scratched arms he would try to hide. Habitually, he would cry the pain of whips from his disciplinarian father, but would do again the reasons of the whipping.

He was stubborn—very stubborn.

On his very first day in school he could be crowned "the most behave boy in the corner." Did a single soul notice his eyes saying, “Enjoy this day, the rest will be mine.”? It happened. The bullied boy at home became the bully in school. He was all skin and bones and no taller than a sitting dog, but could scare away a boy or two of his age. Once the class was sweeping and pulling weeds in the school yard. A chirping bird was heard but its whereabouts couldn't be traced. Boys and girls went searching but failed. Suddenly a brown winged creature fell from a banana tree. He looked up and saw a nest protruding from the fruit cub. He thought of climbing the tree and gave up catching the fallen birdie, which the other kids chased with cheers. Just when he was about to climb, a bigger boy pushed him. And with a little effort, the other boy reached the top. But he didn't give up--he knew what to do. With a few swings of his bolo, the giant herb collapsed against the ground with the rude boy crying in pain. He picked up the nest and hurried home. The next day he was at the principal’s office with his mother.

He was pain in the neck.

Young and carefree he could be labeled, but his young mind knew that the world was not surrounded only by beauty. He lived in a world that was seasoned with atrocities—ones he battled, failed, and triumphed with. When he was nine, he started doing jobs of the grown-ups. He used to endure the burning heat of the sun in the fields as he plants corn seeds that he would harvest in the dog days of summer. He would get up in the morning and join his tiyos and lolos shovel gravel and sand along the Cagayan River and deliver them in far-flung places of the town. The creek, which was on foot away from their house was his friend. There he would gather clams and sell them in the neighborhood—five pesos a glass. Most of the times, he would be promised to be paid but was not. He never asked twice for the reward his labor deserved but he never forgets those people. They who cheated a young boy who perspired for a living. Some of whom have been resting...

...six feet under the ground.

He has forgiven them.

School was not his favorite place. There were times he’d rather climb up the santol tree across their tiny dwelling where he would spend half or whole of a school day. Up the tree he would sometimes see his mother doing the laundry and catch himself giggling over his unbecoming behavior. He would also swim in the river with other lazy grade schoolers and end up fabricating reasons before the mad school principal, school counselor, and class advisers. “What a bunch of crap!” He would always tell himself. Mother and son then would go home and he would see her cry. Often did he see her weep—when he gets a big wound; when he’s badly sick; when he gets punished by Father; when he visits the principal’s office. But not on commencement exercises. She would see her smile as she puts on the medals and ribbons on him. Would you believe it? Kidding aside, he was a consistent achiever despite his misdemeanors.

Now, this is humblebragging. So I’d rather park my pen.

Note: I haven’t edited this post so bear with the flaws.

shards

2012-07-10T00:11:00.003-07:00

Like a dew drop on a clover leaf

Our friendship was safe beneath canopies.
But came the dog days of summer,
The dew vanished into the humid air.

the master of guise

2012-07-08T01:12:00.002-07:00

it can be a stare, a glimpse,
a naughty wink of the eye;
a pout of the lips; or a wide smile.

it can be a word like "hello;"
a tirade, a sentence, or a phrase;
a reason, a cause, an alibi.

it can be a satire or a sonnet;
an essay or a letter to a friend just met;
or an adulatory address to a royalty in a banquet.

it can be a handshake;
a toss of glass in a cocktail gathering;
a kiss on the cheek; or a soundless grin.

it can be a teardrop
that flows down a rosy cheek;
or the beauty of a lady in a gloomy street.

it can be a promise,
a proposal, an acceptance.
it can be a man or a woman in a long white gown.

it can be an interviewee in a nightly news;
or pairs of shoes that toddlers fondly use,
or an insistent advertisement of a famous bath soap.

it can be the thick gray clouds
that hastens to gather the laundry.
it can be the tempting color of the sour mulberry.

it can be your friend, a seatmate in a bus;
a neighbor, a stranger at the back of the door;
or the colorful flowers on the speechless wall.

it can be the person beside you;
or the one you share meal with each day;
or a slithering pet that's always waiting for a prey.

it can be emotions;
--sad, glad, mad.
or the skin of a model in an enormous ad.

fake, synthetic, pretension, call it the way you want.
at the end of the day you know the bottomline.
it's a lie, and nothing but the ever disguising lie.

Beware.

Cheesier than Cheddar

2012-07-06T01:11:00.000-07:00

Was alone and planning what to prepare for dinner when my eyes caught your presence. How dare you get there and dazzle my systems with that killer smile; with those bewitching eyes? Did you know I could feel my heart pounding against my chest? What potion did you sprinkle in the air that made me follow you and braved to say “hello?” Please tell me, so I won’t by mistake, free myself from this spell. Because it’s but sweet forgetting myself each time we hold hands and talk in the eyes. It is but like heaven seeing you smile and kissing your delicate hands.

The first time you bade bye was a bitter pill I swallowed. But glad I was quick to capture an image of you in my mind, so I see you even my eyes are shut. And when I get up in the morning it is you I see, the reason why I hum love songs in my tiny bathroom. I know I am far from being a seventeener again. But what can I do if I indeed feel that way? It’s your fault. Yes, no one’s to blame but you. And I’d like to chastise you with constricting hugs and sweet kisses. Would you let me to?

Have I really gone nuts? Because each time you call I catch myself smiling wide. And all I can say most of the time is “yes” and “no” because my excitement eats my senses and i barely get the gist of your words. Sorry if I don’t make sense at times. Hearing your voice just carries me away. Would you knock my head if you saw me that odd? Hope not because as I’ve already insisted, it’s your fault. You’re the only one at fault.

When I say “I miss you” and you say the same to me, I get engulfed with strange emotions. Even I only read the phrase in my cheap cellular phone. Check my inbox and you’d see your name alone. Err, not your name, because you know, just like any other romantic “jologs” out there, I saved your number with the “I LOVE YOU.” Wouldn’t you like it or would you rename it?

Now I am terribly missing you. I know I’ll see you again, but each moment without you means sadness. I hope you can stay for good and indulge me with your spell. Do not vanish into thin air.

2012-06-26T18:36:00.003-07:00

got this poem from a friend, Mr. Sherwin Cesar

Dunno what he's thinking. lol!

But i see the talent in each line.

So now he's with the club. :)

Pain or Glory?

By Sherwin M. Cesar

Living is enduring

Bitterness, sorrows, and sufferings

Frustrations are indeed hurting

But without them life has no meaning.

Like helpless garden shrubs and bushes

Grape vines, sweet berries, and roses

To pruners they succumb their tender branches

To make them grow and richly flourish.

In giving birth to a child

Mothers have to suffer and even die

When the world hears little baby’s cry

Tears of joy seem to fall from the skies.

Precious metals have to endure

The harshness of blue angry fire

To jewel lovers they will allure

When finally they look fine and pure.

When somebody feels weak or ill

He must bear the pain of biting needle

Swallow poignant syrup and bitter pill

To regain his strength and be fully well.

In life we need to taste failure

Even the pain of losing, we must endure

In sailing towards vast horizons, though we’re unsure

Wise and strong enough we’ll face the future.

(Dedicated to a friend)

promdi

2012-06-20T02:44:00.004-07:00

Spent my childhood running up and down grassy hills; building make-believe empires with playmates in the woods where we put up our castles out of bamboos, banana leaves, and gmelina trunks; playing Tarzan by swinging on young banana leaves we sweated to hook pole and had to hotfoot every time an elderly with a bolo arrived ; fishing with Father from dawn to twilight, one thing i consider the most thrilling kiddie task; raiding the towering fruit bearing trees--mango, lolly fruit, pomelo, among others, despite the unfriendly army ants that were always ready to trigger war; building soil castles in the midst of the just ploughed cornfields; filling my pockets with a handful catch of crickets; lying on bed of carabao grass under the bright moon and sharing stories with friends about ghosts, cyborgs, and monsters. I indeed had a childhood not every child in the metropolitan have or had.

But were my high school days as fun? Not fun at all. Going to high school meant CHANGES. A threshold to maturity the old people say. And maturity demanded a great deal of change. No more fabricated stories under the huge moon; no more make-believe empires and dilapidated castles; no more ransacking fruits up towering trees; no more soil castles in cornfields; no more pocketing crickets; and many more "no mores." There were only more midnight candles to burn; more new stuffs to learn; more people to acquaint with; more money to spend. But thanks goodness the changes in the environment were not as many. I could still see trees with their tempting fruits but preferred not to climb them and stoned them instead. I could still see fishes playing in the clear waters of Cagayan River but preferred to buy them instead to catch them myself. I learned to prefer doing tasks that I found boring during my grade school days. Did growing up mean getting lazy? That's the funniest question I had in mind. Because at the back of my mind i knew it wasn't. Because I had to do my laundry on Fridays; because i had to prepare my daily meals; because I had to press my uniforms before going to bed at night; because I had to clean my room; and so on and on. And all these I had to do all by myself.

When i went to college i realized that high school was a training ground for a more challenging world. College life was more demanding and could drain off the best of me. But thanks Almighty for giving me the dose of determination i needed to beat the odds. I finished my degree and now I earn my own bucks. See? It wasn't easy getting to where i am now. Oh, dears I am no big fish yet. I' am just an average waging office man. Well it’s the least I can get through so far. Hmmm, how about getting to an executive position? Never mind. Put all seriousness aside and rather reminisce on the ludicrous sides of changes I've had as once a rural seed to an office sprout in the extremely perplexing Metro Manila.

THE ARRIVAL

Was still coiled in my favorite blanket when the bus had the final stop. I could hear voices and movements but ignored them and gave way to my braying heavy eyelids. That's because I thought it was only one of the several stop-overs. Of course I was embarrassed when the driver's apprentice caustically said "Cubao na boy." I concealed the red face with a smile, fixed myself, gathered my stuffs and disembarked. I was welcomed by the honking of buses, by the hoot-hoot of the metro rail transit, the unfriendly smog, and by the culled human sounds--of passengers, mongers, bystanders, vendors, drivers, children, to name a few. I couldn't figure out how much more noise my hometown market had to produce to equate the noise in the terminal. And that scenario was just the first of the turn-offs that almost sent me back to my hometown. I thought I would rather endure the scorching heat of the sun, till the cornfields, have as early as seven o’clock goodnight sleep, and say hello to every crowing rooster in the neighborhood at dawn. But optimism dominated my seemingly succumbing drive. The moment my fetchers arrived, we waved for a cab and my urban adventure began.

THE JOB HUNT

It took me weeks to land a first professional job. I braved to apply for a teaching position in a language center and was on cloud nine when the hiring manager announced the good news. And the rain poured heavier because aside from my classroom classes, I was also given loads for the night shift as online EFL teacher. I also got home tutorials and the school was mere on-foot away from my boarding house. It was an awesome start for a career I thought.

Beforehand, I remember myself exploring the very unfamiliar Ortigas Center, traversing every street and submitting copies of my “JOB EXPERIENCE” deficient resume in every office I knew. That day I met a slender woman in her early thirties. Have you been compelled to listen to strangers talk on how they gained wealth by selling these and those products? I was awed by the speakers’ skills but was upset by the fact that I couldn’t grasp on any rope of the business and yet was there enduring the boredom. But again, I chose to be polite and didn’t run until all speakers were done with their novel-like talks. Only, the day ended with kilometric SIGHS on my part. It was a traumatic experience. I felt abducted. Lesson learned: Do not talk to aliens.

The next day was positive in all aspects. I had a good sleep despite the abduction; woke up healthy and just felt fully charged; had a hearty tocino breakfast; and loved my new coif, which I would never want to wear “ever” again. Sandwiched a copy of Manila Bulletin want ads in my armpit and off from our studio-type flat in a jovial mood. I took the northbound bus and glued my eyes alternately left and right to spot the building mentioned by the ad. And when I saw it I felt a sudden feeling of uncertainty. Must be because of the looks of the building I assumed. Still, I alighted from the bus photocopied a copy of my resume and looked for the office of my future employer. I was surprised to see many other applicants, majority of whom, attired in corporate and looked young. They were seated in rows and occupied filling out forms. The feeling of uncertainty I had in the bus was replaced by eagerness. I surreptitiously made a sign of the cross and entered the room directed by the not-so-pretty lady concierge wearing heavy make-up. There I was given a test that reminded me of high school quizzes provided by lazy teachers. That is to say, the test was peanut so I finished it with overflowing confidence. And I was not surprised to know that I made it. I wasn’t even proud. Goodness! My grade six niece could answer those questions with not a droplet of sweat! But I couldn’t claim a bragging right, because if I was indeed smart, I wouldn’t be duped. But I was D-U-P-E-D!

Here’s how:

HR Assistant: Congratulations! You passed the exam.

Me: Really? I didn’t expect that!

My Alter Ego: Liar Romeo!

HR Assistant: You got a pretty high score.

My Alter Ego: Sure I did. It was a grade-schooler’s stuff moron!

Me: So what’s next?

HR Assistant: Are you gonna pay seven hundred pesos now?

Me: Seven hundred pesos? What for?

HR Assistant: We need the amount to process your papers.

Me: Hey Alter Ego, what am I gonna do now?

Alter Ego: zzzzzzzzzzzzz…

HR: Are you paying now? You can come back tomorrow if you don’t have the cash yet.

Me: Hey Alter Ego! What now?!

Alter Ego: zzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

Me: Okay, Will pay now.

HR Assistant: Alright, wait for a call and show this stub when you come back.

I dragged my numbing feet out of the room with the stub on my hand. My brain was floating. Yeah, still had brains those moments, i wouldn't be out of the room if I didn't. Weeks passed and I never got a call. My housemates were right when they said I was scammed. I didn’t even waste more time running after my seven hundred pesos. Honestly, all I could do was curse that damn company. Not because of the money but because of the marred reputation of my vigilance. And my tongue was formidable. A month or so after, the company was raided by the Quezon City Police. Thanks to ABS-CBN’s XXX.

THE SERIES OF HILARIOUS EVENTS

It was a Sunday, around three in the afternoon. Took a jeepney to Shangri-la Mall to see a dear friend. (to be continued)

just methinks

2012-05-31T02:56:00.004-07:00

"Arriving at Betty Go Belmonte Station. Paparating na sa Betty Go Belmonte Station." the bilingual itinerary reminder would always echo. Just like the ballads I've learned by not  memorizing the lyrics, I may have subconsciously consumed that daily bread in the train, and ignoring it has become a knee-jerk reaction. There are other things that catch my attention and at times they can be a chain of emotions. I shortlisted them. Check if you have already come up with some of which.

1. PDA, (not Philippine Dentists Association) colloquially, stands for Public Display of Affection

Okay lovers, we are complete strangers in your eyes but we've got emotions and we get embarrassed seeing you kissing, necking, and pecking. Get off at the next stop and get a cheap room. You are rated "disgusting."

2. RMC or the Rumor Mongers Club

The train isn't the right place to position yourselves for comfortable chatting. And you don't sound great dishing out dirt on people. You can blab all your life but don't feel at home inside the train. This aint your living room mongers, more so not the alleys where gossiping is a norm. 

3. Pole Dancers

The poles in the middle are set for everybody's use. Less agile passengers tend to lose control because there's nowhere to hold onto when the train takes a curve or a stop. So don't hug and lean on poles like you own them. 

4. Excuse Me Fella

Saying "Excuse me" is polite but only when practiced appropriately. Don't say the phrase when you mean "you're sorry." Neither say excuse me when the train stops and obviously  you're not the only one to alight. 

5. Me Oldy Respect Me

Gone were the days when the elderly are given priority in public transportation and the train is no way an exemption. Can't agree more that we have to give way to the elderly because they are the weaker bodies. But it's frustrating most of the time when you offer your seat and not receive a very simple "thank you." Saying thank you is not much to ask compared to giving up your seat and endure the leg pain until you get to your destination. Old fellas i surmise have forgotten the values they say are worth living with. They sure aren't senile yet because if they are, they wouldn't be nowhere but home.

6. Pretty Woman Durr!

You are pretty your mirror on the wall tells you. Well I say your mirror lies. Do not ever look at me like i am drooling over that cleavage paved with thick makeup foundation. Looking at you doesn't mean you are stunning. It means "YOU  ARE WORTH STONING" (Emphasis overload--italicized, capitalized, boldfaced, quoted). Act according to beauty. Take note of that. 

7. Showy Techy

You've got the coolest gadget, okay we know that now. But would you mind toning down the volume because we're just not into listening to your type of music. And don't talk to your caller like you're both deaf. For goodness sake, you have the headset in your ears!

8. Agent CC

You Call Center Agents are the A Listers of the RMC (no.2). Just because you speak English and talk the loudest. Alright, you've got the coolest job on earth. But you have logged out of your office computers so you are now back to your normal beings. Get real guys or you may want us dissect your sentences. 

9. Queue Crasher

Regardless of gender, age, religion, nationality, etc. Follow this simple rule: "Fall in line." No matter how long the queue is, it's still piece of cake spotting the tail so there's no reason to get into the middle and act like no one's after you. Unless you asked and is granted permission; or would you rather be handicapped? Include "shame" in your diction and use it all the time. 

10. Sleepy Head

Your eyelids are getting heavier and heavier and falls your sweaty head on my disgusted shoulder! It is but normal to be sleepy especially when the day at work turned stressful. But make sure you had your head shampooed so shoulders would be more accommodating. I am just being bold and I'm sorry that i can't think of a more tactful manner of advising. 

There. Got my list. Do you think the same or i am just over reacting?

The Other Woman

2012-05-28T02:06:00.002-07:00

Nine months of carriage in her womb; whole life of nourishment through words to ponder on: What I am now speaks how she has reared me and I venture say that she’s done a sterling job. I love her so and I know life wouldn’t be complete without her. Ergo, my prayers aren’t complete without asking Him to give my old woman, longer and healthier life. But I am sorry Mother because there’s one more woman I love the way I love you.

I seldom saw her in my childhood but I knew she had had the kindest heart. I still recall when Father and Cel, my youngest sister, met her in the city nearby. She bought us school supplies and treated us meal in a well-known restaurant. Young as I was, I could easily appreciate such gesture and didn’t have to convince myself to treasure the moment. I’ve never forgotten her since then. But that was the last time I saw her until my high school years were over. Thought I would never see her again.

Life was financially tough so sending us, siblings, to college was a big challenge to my parents. I knew and felt that they always dreamed of a bright future for us. But I also knew and felt that they didn't have the means to make the dream come to reality. Cel and I took exams for a scholarship program and we both made it. But adhering to the polices of the program, only one could be honored and i knew it couldn't be me. So after high school i decided to get a job to help get the money coming in. I didn’t even have to ask my parents because I knew it would be very awkward for them to say “Sorry son, we have worked so hard but...Okay, you may get a job and...”

I worked for a gasoline station and believe it or not it was a dream came true. That’s how superficial I was; just like a child whose ultimate goal was to ride a bicycle on his own. But two years after, the sight of my high school classmates in their uniforms and backpacks lead me into collision with envy. It was great Father was so ready when I told him I wanted to go back schooling. I didn’t have the slightest idea of his plans neither did I expect I’d see Aunt Esther again.

Going to college made me feel belonged to a dreamers’ club. I was given a sudden hope for a better future for myself and for my family. But success doesn’t come without challenges and one of which came earlier than I expected. Father passed away before my first year in the university ended leaving Mother his responsibilities. Mother was only fifty when Father died but she had become sickly so couldn’t work to the fields as she used to. My dreams once again seemingly lurked in the dark clouds of November. But I was so wrong because Aunt Esther didn’t give up supporting me. My thought of her leaving my family for good since her brother has passed away was surprisingly false. From then on, my respect to her grew bigger; unfathomable.

I finished a degree with Aunt Esther standing by me till the end. She wanted to keep me near but I was so ambitious that I escaped and preferred to explore the metro. I was sorry I did that but was sure she would understand. And she really did. I miss my aunt so much. I don’t have the courage to tell her but I really do. Apart from Mother, she will be one of the women I will never forget. Thank you for the selfless love auntie.

lokal-haliwud selebriti luk-alayk

2012-05-23T22:39:00.000-07:00

luk-alayk 1

American Idol's over and the odds were not on the sixteener girl's favor. Yes, Jessica Sanchez didn't win but absolutely a huge career awaits her in store. So let's all move on and spare some cents for her album invasion. I enjoyed the finale performances except that Fantasia-Mantasia duet. And i'd rather not say why so i can't offend some sensitive fans out there. But overall, the finale was so "over the top," as Steven Tyler habitually raved on performances that met or surpassed his aesthetic standards in music.

Speaking of Steven, i always had this feeling that he looks like somebody in the local showbiz industry. I just couldn't figure out who it was until a stout male soul in the office cracked the nut. And i was outrageously jealous that he was right. Imagine Randy Jackson saying: "Yo! Listen up yo! Steven Tyler, without any doubt, is the missing twin brother of Melanie Marquez from the Philippines! Dude you've found her!" Then JLo would tell Melanie "Melanie honey, i clearly see the Tyler blood in you. I know it's a terrible news. I'm sorry baby."

But i don't wear my glasses before the teevee. So it's not safe to trust my comparison skills alone. DIY fellas.

Steve Tyler (left) and Melanie Marquez (onset). They even have common fetish. Spot on.

luk-alayk 2

red corner:
internationally famous
a legend in the music industry and is dubbed the King of Pop
black in the past and...was white in the past as well (rest in peace Mj) and...he looks *****now (can you figure it out?)

white corner:
domestically eminent
one of the finest singers of her generation and is named the Songbird of Asia (i wonder how much is paid to get titles as such)
she looked*****then and just look at her now (You be the judge)

The one who didn't go under the knife gets the crown!

And the winner is...eh?

Who didn't go under the knife?

Michael Jackson (left) and Regine Velasquez (right). Look at those eyes, lips, and noses.

Just for fun guys! Don't get mad fans!

A Post-Mother's Day Write-up

2012-05-21T01:59:00.001-07:00

An infant when born would feel pain when given a slap on the butt that's why he lets out a loud cry. But such cry doesn't mean agony to the mother but glory because she has ascertained the existence of the just-born child. When the child gets hungry it will cry. And when the crying becomes continuous and seemingly unstoppable, it means the child's tiny stomach is no longer susceptible to severe hunger. Moments as such the mother rushes to breast feed the child then cradles him on her loving arms. Then just like a miracle the child refrains from crying and starts nourishing himself with the flowing food from the affectionate mother. The baby sleeps tight afterward.

When the baby becomes a toddler the mother would nourish him not only with fodder but also with words he can live with as he grows up. She infuses moral lessons he can ponder on even as a child. She sends him to school and helps him cope with his lessons even she has to take a goodnight rest after a laborious day in the house, and in the fields. For eight hours and more some times, she endures the burning heat of the sun. But the mother opts not to show weariness as she doesn't like the child to pity her. Because she doesn't want him to feel guilt as they use her supposed resting moments. Most of the time the child gets too excited and fails to behave the way he has. But she still gives her best on him. And when the father gives him the corporal punishment he deserves, the mother gets in the middle with her most protective embrace. When the child cries it's the mother who feels most of the pain. The child doesn't have the slightest idea of that.

He grows up and now chooses to live his life the way he prefers. He goes to a university and enrolls the course he hardly knows. But still, her support is incomparable and works even harder for his education needs. When the father passes away, sending him to college means sweating thrice sending him to high school even a relative offers an unstinting help. In college he meets new friends and begins to explore the world of curiosities. The mother, while away from the child begins to worry and prays for his safety all the time. There are times she scolds him and he fights back. Because he thinks he is right and she is being illogical. He doesn't say sorry but she forgives him every time.

The world in there is tempting. But he thanks Mother for the lessons she instilled and still instills on him. He is thankful that he has the most understanding, loving, and protective woman on earth.

Now he earns his own cash. He knows he wouldn't be where he is now without her. She never asks a cent but he sends in his own volition. When he gets home she prepares a feast on the table. She even mixes coffee for him. Once the child gets up the earliest. He prepares breakfast and mixes her coffee. The mother gets out of the room and sees the table. She isn't glad with what she sees. She gets mad instead saying "Why did you get up this early? You should be resting till now." "I'm not tired" he answers and pulls a chair and lets her sit and gives her the cup of coffee. She holds the cup and does not talk. Moments of silence then she bursts in tears.

I love you mother and i always will. May He give you longer existence until the time i can provide you the comforts of life. And I pray that that time will come very soon. Happy mother's day.

A Jeepney Ride a Day Makes or Breaks a Day 1

2012-05-20T23:54:00.000-07:00

For a working body like myself who isn’t blessed with wheels, i often (err, i mean every working day) take a public transportation that is not so convenient but very economical. Do i need to say it's the ubiquitous jeepney? Not in a way I'm writing about jeepney as one of the country's national symbols. I am writing on experiences i often come across with in my everyday commuting life. (Not complaining about not having a car, believe it or not.)

I am not very nationalistic. I prefer songs of the Hollywood; I'd rather run my cents on (still) Hollywood films; and if I had the money more than i needed I'd buy loads of imported goods. But my emotions are still modified for my biological being so it's inevitable to be awed by the plethora of wonders in this dear third world motherland (neither am i complaining, just stating a biting reality). And the jeepney tops my list.

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Vibrant the jeepneys are, even the old ones. But other than the jeepney's outward look, the inside is as flamboyant—where orbits the tiny, kaleidoscopic world of a diverse populace—could be a loving mother and a rascal child; a saleslady in a department store whose make-up is much thicker than her epidermis; a taho vendor who gets mad each time his buckets get a thud; a religious fellow who does the sign of the cross every time he sees a church; a homophobic metrosexual; a conceited woman who thinks she's the pretiest in the world; someone who doesn't care about personal hygiene; students who cannot live a day without texting; an old woman demanding for respect; etc. In this world one would somehow get a glimpse on other people's lives through their eyes; through short exchanges of words between, or among passengers; and through isolated instances of squabbles and pranks. And having experienced and witnessed as such, i smiled, laughed, got mad, and realized that life is hugely joking. I am journeying back to those experiences. Come and join the ride.

First Stop 1: The Stranger's Eyes

Flashback: "Isn't staring rude?" i asked him and he answered; "I know it is, but isn't not recognizing a first degree cousin and paying his smile with meeting eyebrows not ruder?" (i prefer ruder than "more rude" got problem?)

What triggered the flashback: Been minutes when i noticed a set of eyes fixed on me. Do i have protruding booger? Did i drool last night and failed to soap it out? Something disturbing on my eyes? I was dead paranoid. Surreptitiously i checked those parts and was relieved to confirm the false alarm. “Ignore, ignore, ignore!” and the hell I tried.

Was off to work that morning and had a terrible sleep. To avoid the stranger's eyes i faked a yawn and held on the rust proof bar above my head and played asleep on my biceps (as though i have biceps). I felt my phone vibrating so i had to lift my head to check it but decided to do it later. Have you been in a situation where your instinct says “There are eyes glued on you.”? I hated that feeling so i pretended to be asleep again.

"Para!" a passenger was getting off. As i adjusted my position to give way, because the jeepney's isle is not even half yard wide, i couldn't help but look at the stranger who happened to be still looking at me. I wasn't mad though but was increasingly getting curious.

"Could he be a..." and all tho worst scenarios rallied in my sleepy head. Paranoid again...and struggled to ignore again.

The caught-you-staring-at-me situation went on for more minutes and I was growing mad, conscious, and paranoid.

"Para!" another passenger was alighting and i was relieved to see the stranger with his backpack jumping off. I looked at him and i was paid with a smile.

That was bizarre, i thought, but thanks goodness riddance got on the way.

I disembarked and transferred to another for one more shorter ride. I was seated near the driver so I apprenticed for him. The driver seemed to have soiled his hands and did not wash them for ages. Have you ever been pissed because the driver and fellow passengers acted like they hired you to do the task? How ungrateful people can be most of the time.

“Tabi lang po.” I bade the driver and dragged my feet off the isle. As my sneakers landed the ground I felt the cheap phone vibrate again. Two messages in my inbox said; 1. “Suplado mo na!”(You have become a snub!) 2. “Kumusta na? Tagal na di kita nakita a.” (How are you doing? Haven’t seen you for quite a while eh.)

I stopped pacing and laughed. For the record, it was a hearty laugh and not a mere smile. No way was the guy a stranger. He’s an acquaintance whose monicker appears on my phonebook. What a start of the day it was.

Next Stop: Taho Vendor Slaps a Man

love's stupidity

2011-09-12T02:35:00.000-07:00

Have you been in a shoe where your partner kept alleging you of things you had nothing to do with and when you got mad what you got was the caustic question"Then what makes you furious if you're not guilty?"; but when you said not a single word you got berated with "You're speechless because you know you were wrong and now being incinerated by your guilt!"? If so far not, then you're lucky one. Stress, among other emotional predicaments would someone suffer for having a nagging partner. I used to ponder upon this Pinoy cliche "Kung walang baga walang usok (If there's no cinder so is smoke)" and in all fairness, it proved itself somehow right, but never in all cases. It just happened that i mistakenly picked a partner--someone who checks my cellphone in both surreptitious and vulgar manner. Thing i hate most because i am a person who grew up with sense of privacy that whether a person is hiding a thing or two or otherwise is no way part of my business. Thus, i think i deserve to be treated the same way. That simple--respect and be respected.
It's but a norm among humans to be jealous. I, myself get jealous when i see my partner staring at attractive strangers; i get jealous when my partner's phone repetitively rings knowing that we are dining out or enjoying some TV programs or some films on DVD at home; i get jealous when my partner talks to an ex or exes even in the middle of the night; i get jealous when my partner goes out with friends I've never met; i get jealous when i find out that my partner got messaged by an unknown texter; blah blah blah. Yeah, i'm such a jealous guy but hey, i never let jealousy rule my brains. I don't whine over those staring eyes, I don't habitually check that fucking phone, i don't nag about those dates with to-me-unknown friends, i don't talk bad about those stranger texters! Not because i don't genuinely love the person or i don't care about the relationship but because i know my limitations and i respect someone's privacy be this person my lover or not.
I have proven that all that go in excess don't bear sweet fruits because the fertilizer from underneath the soil gets divided into many portions that the distribution of nutrients among the fruits becomes scarce. Metaphorically speaking too much jealousy leads to broken relationship, marred respect between partners, and the worst, a breach that is not possible to bridge with a simple sorry. Yeah, I'm speaking from experience and i tell you I'M SO LOATHING THIS FEELING!

Dead Seconds

2011-09-04T22:36:00.000-07:00

Not really planned to write about this incident that happened March this year but as i was thinking of a good subject it crossed my mind then i didn't have to realize i had to write on it--i just had this feeling i had to.

Said it occurred in March. It was a Saturday at three thirty p.m. and just did my laundry. Being tired i went to bed and watched TV while two of my roommates, Neil and Willie, were busy preparing for a shopcapade (from my self-published dictionary) in Divisoria. Never been to the place so i kidded i wanted to go with them but when they took it seriously I was convinced that neither was i joking. I really wanted to go but my body was so opposing the idea. Well, i was darn tired so just decided to take a rest. My body triumphed.

My roommates arrived with bags of items they bought from Divisoria. Neil showed a pair of sneakers bragging on the cheap price he managed to deal with the salesperson. Willie pulled on a short pants--the usual short pants i see donned by the not-so-manly mall goers. Ahmmm...nope, Willie's a real man with a Taiwanese wife and blessed with a baby girl. Neil got from a huge paper bag a belt and pantaloons. A black watch on Willie's wrist caught my eyes so I queried about the price. "Hundred fifty!" was his response but my interest was deviated on his facial expression. The guy must be very proud of his bargaining ability. He handed the wristwatch to me and as i was about to try it on it fell on the floor.

I was startled by the sound of a broken mirror. Rubbed my eyes while figuring out what just happened--I was merely dreaming and been asleep for almost three hours. I checked the wall clock and it said "hi! it's 3:30." Without thinking I got on my feet and went to the restroom. It's a ritual. I have this attitude of going to the restroom to pee every time i wake up even in the deepest moments of the evening. As the first drop of urine hit the toilet bowl i felt something surged up my whole system. I saw tiny, interconnected red dots in a background of black and red colors. Then i saw Mother's, siblings', nephews', and nieces' faces. Then death engulfed my mind. In my brain i was able to say a short prayer--"Lord, not now." That was, as far as i can remember, the last thing i managed to do. Saying a very short prayer and I believe that it saved my life. That's the second time i did that, because back in 1995 i nearly drowned. And I thank God for always listening.

I opened my eyes and saw the the basin about two inches close my eyes. I felt the wetness of my boxer shorts and shirt and the pain on my right thigh. There was also pain above my nape.Upon getting out of the restroom i checked the clock and it still read 3:30 and a few seconds. Concluded that I lost consciousness only for seconds but why did I feel very tired as though i just returned from a bloody battle. When i sat on our green mono-block chair and understood what just happened i was swept by a sudden feeling of dread. If my head hit something hard seconds ago i must be already in a senseless state and probably immobile for the rest of my life, or the worst dead. I recalled a close relative who just passed away. She slipped in their bathroom and had her head bumped the edge of the toilet bowl. She was rushed in a provincial hospital and transferred in Manila; was in a coma for days but eventually gave up to death's call. Then i figured out how Mother would react if she heard that his son just died. What if I died? What would be next to my mother and my youngest brother? What if...

Neil and Willie finally arrived.

"What happened?" they asked so i realized that there was an obvious sign of the incident other than the facial expression i tried to conceal. I planned not to answer the question but i realized that i hadn't changed my wet clothes. And so I told them the story and after showing their concern they went on showing their finds. Willie bought two wrist-watches--a silver plated and a fake black laced Nike; a pair of shorts and some striped collared shirts. Neil bought a red and black belt, shorts, and blue sneakers.

A day after, Willie broke his black wrist watch. As i was listening to his laments as to how he got it broken I was saying a prayer in my mind. "Thanks God, Thank You Gd."

Sentimentalmode

2011-08-29T00:15:00.000-07:00

Thought I have already gotten over you
And all the pain that I’ve been through
But when I went to bed last night
I could hardly close my teary eyes.

Said never will I be wasting time again
Reminiscing happy and sad moments
But lately each time I am alone
Can’t help but resort to recollection

And why do I feel that something’s wrong
Each time I hear our favorite song?
And why at times I catch myself hoping
That one day you’ll be mine again?

I have long pretended to be unaffected
Of these, and those, and all the stuff I learned to detest.
But try as I might; can’t seem to hide;
What goes around still cuts my pride.

Thoughts of you cost me inch-life each time,
Leaving me sad, frustrated, unsatisfied.
Can’t I just move on and live my life,
As though nothing on us transpired?