the Homosexual Writer-Teacher-Gardener

Who Would Have Thought

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Wed, 10 Aug 2011 16:18:00 +0000

I wrote this as soon as I arrived home 11:08 p.m. today from a dinner with officemates then coffee spree. I felt the urge to write this, as this is not any usual working day I had.

Although the day ended with filled stomach due to a good buffet and a generous cup of coffee, it nevertheless started like hell due to heavy morning traffic. I came late (it is not an issue however at the office) when vehicles snarled up due to a taxicab that blocked up the street after it was hit by a concrete post. The post fell into the cab when a container van hit the post's cable and dragged the already-damaged post, smashing the cab's forepart.

View full story here.

Later in the afternoon, another accident happened a few meters away from our office. Along with another editor, I covered the accident. An acacia tree was uprooted amid heavy rains and fell into a jeepney, killing its driver.

It wasn't a pleasant scene. Good that I had somebody with me to take photos, as I surely couldn't bear seeing the driver, whose face was deformed due to the impact of the fallen tree.

The jeepney had not less than ten passengers but all of them were able to escape.

It took more than an hour before the body was retrieved. The tree was cut into pieces and lifted in order to retrieve the trapped driver, which consumed much time.

View full story and photos here.

While in the scene trying to get as more information as possible, I felt sympathy for the family of the driver, who at that moment didn't have any knowledge what was going on.

He could have escaped, so I thought when a witness said that before the tree fell over, a few small branches were starting to fall, making sound, which could have been a signal for him to move out of his jeepney. But I also realized that it was probably his fate. I realized anything could possibly happen. A store's sign board, for example, fell into a woman's breast last month. Although I didn't exactly know what happened next, as it was just based on the account of my mother who was there during the incident (and thank God it wasn't her), who would have thought things like that could happen?

There's just one lesson I got from this experience today, it really pays to tell our loved ones – always – of how grateful we are with their presence, support, and love, or at least, show in return that we also love them, as times can be as unpredictable as the future.

Thanks to my friends and family! My love and gratitude are as sincere as yours!

Done 12:04 a.m.

Growing Old and Nostalgia

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Tue, 09 Aug 2011 13:03:00 +0000

I am not sure of this but I noticed that as people grow old, they tend to become emotional, nostalgic, always trying to look back to the beautiful things that have happened in their lives. Count my mother in, to include my grandmother.

Probably too, if this is true, then I must say, at 23, I am already old enough. Always, I tend to become nostalgic. Also, this is likely because these days I am not as mingling with people as I did before that I am inclined to missing the things I used to do with friends and other people who are special to me. These days I only had time for work and home, seeing the same people and working on the same things.

I don't exactly know the reason behind this -- and this is also not the point of this post -- but I'd like to say that reminiscing the good memories is a great way of honing our ability to remember things. Admit it, it also feels good looking back at our crazy and romantic moments, especially if we talk about them with friends.

If I were to recall some good old memories, I am sure I will be able to write a novel.

Yes, this is just blah-blah-blah, but isn't it worth asking why as grow old, we're easily hit by nostalgia? And why does it feel good?

Where I Was, Where Things Will Be

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 14:30:00 +0000

Well, it's been a while since my last post -- that was two months ago. I wasn't able to write some stuff for HomoWTG because of my hectic work sked. And my only day off, which is on a Saturday, is spent on gardening. To be honest, I really don't have time for writing although I have been thinking -- most of the time -- doing it.

True, the work and gardening are eating much of my time that there hasn't been enough time for a post, but many instances for the past weeks were also a bum. I was just too lazy to even write one. Plus the writer's block. I couldn't think of anything to write about.

Probably too, for following the weeks, things will stay the same. So many things are up for my attention in the months to come. I'll be preparing for my birthday on September. My garden improvements will continue. I'll also be preparing for a new gardening blog, which I plan to set afloat by September.

More things to do with Christmas approaching. As a self-declared tradition, Christmas decorations must be set before September ends. I also plan to hold a Christmas barbeque party with friends and family this year, not to mention I will have to get some plants ready for a garden fair in our city this Christmas. A lot of things, really.

Yes, things will stay the same, I mean I'll still be hectic or even more hectic but I must just ditch bum in writing with all these things to share. Let's see where these bring us.

Caving, Ziplining and Whatnot

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Wed, 11 May 2011 16:32:00 +0000

From someone who loves gardening, a nature trip will never be out of interest. And, a nature trip with a group of friends will never be funnier without the presence of a gay person. So, sure, people did have fun when we, from the office of the Sun.Star Network Exchange (Sunnex), went out for a nature trip to celebrate our anniversary this month, because I was there. Haha. Such a swollen-headed! Kidding aside, we really had fun with the presence of everybody.

It's been my second month in Sunnex, and a lot of things have happened in a span of two months. Yet so far, our trip to Balamban, Cebu was one thing I'll never forget. We had caving, which was my first time, and ziplining for the second time. Of course, what made it special too was the seemingly limitless supply of free food.

We left the Sun.Star building past 9 a.m. on May 5 for our anniversary adventure. We rented a van to take us to Balamban. Besides all the nonsense conversations inside the van and the "photo shoot," I enjoyed the view of the streets where plants lined up for people to stop by and buy. Heading to Balamban, we passed by Busay where people's main source of livelihood is nursery business. If only I rode my own car, I would have stopped and bought several ones, knowing plants there are sold at reasonable prices.

I didn't exactly have the time recorded but upon our arrival, we immediately prepared ourselves for a long walk heading to the cave, which I also forgot the name. I didn't really bother putting to memory all these names -- the cave, the place, the tour guides. I was more focused on the plants around me -- identifying what they are and enjoying their beauty -- while trying to tread carefully and pass through the rough trail leading to the cave. Although I would say it was a real trudge, the walk was really exciting. Needless to say, we had it documented.

We had lunch a few minutes after we arrived at the place. We had our helmets and lights readied right after lunch, and there we went inside the cave by batch. I was with the first batch. Because the cave's mouth isn't that wide to fit a man standing, we had to crawl to get in it. True, there's no dull moment for a first time, although we didn't really spend much time inside the cave. While the second batch had their turn, we, the first batch, killed the time with photo shoots here and there.

It was past 1 p.m. that we began the long trudge back to our van. My legs were on fire, and everyone else sure felt the same. We went back to the restaurant where we had to take the zipline, some refreshments, and more photo shoot sessions.

Almost all of us took the zipline, which I and Tash, who had bundles of nerves, took first.

More photo shoots, refreshments, then we prepared ourselves for a trip back home.

Seeing all our photos and videos of more than 800 combined, no one can deny he didn't enjoy the experience. Truly a happy anniversary for Sunnex! Till the next anniv!

Decisions From People's Perception

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Thu, 28 Apr 2011 15:13:00 +0000

To those who have been following my blog (if there is even one), you knew that I've been single for 22 years now, since birth. In fact, I've written an article entitled “9 Reasons Why You Are Still Single At 21,” which was obviously dedicated to myself and to those who share the same lifestyle with me. Despite what I've said in the article, many still ask why I've lived such life.

It is no surprise among us, homosexuals, how hard it is to find someone who would truly love us. This is one reason, though, this does not serve as a valid answer, after all, everyone's free to enjoy love. I've been through the "courting stage" several times but not even one succeeded. It wasn't because there were no feelings involved; it was because, often, there are a lot negative thoughts and fear that keep holding me from going into a relationship.

The fear of being judged lurks in me. How will mom and dad react? What will people say about me? Will I do well in relationships or do I get things messed up? How will I cope with pain? What will pain cause me?

I have since done my best to gain people's respect. I've put limitations in my actions. I've put myself a notch higher than any other individual -- I did my best in school that people rather see my achievements than deviance. I tried to cover up deviance with great achievements. And now, all these gave me the fear of not being able to live up to the expectations of other people.

This is life for me for two decades and probably in the decades to come. But who knows?

Because I don't have the right to tell anybody to ditch this kind of thinking, as I live life based on other people's expectations, I could just wish whoever lives the same lifestyle also has the courage to live life freely amid people's disparaging remarks, the courage to make decisions notwithstanding people’s perception.

How Am I Now

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 14:53:00 +0000

It's been weeks since I last wrote a post here. I had been very busy with my job application in one of the local newspapers here (Sun.Star). After several weeks of interviews and exams, I finally passed the application on March. Even though the application process was a bit tedious that I almost gave up, I pursued it and went through the whole process. I took it as a challenge. (Good that I did because I did get it.)

Since I resumed office on March 8, I get back to waking up early morning, prepping up myself and riding a jeepney going to the office (taking in exhaust fumes from vehicles; how Cebu!). There comes the routine again -- one thing that I really hate. (No choice though, I need to earn a living.)

The work is both fun and challenging. It is fun because it is something I have been wanting to do since high school. I love writing news stories as much as editing them. It is challenging because writing and editing stories can be tricky. One must be on the lookout for accuracy. One must be meticulous with details -- from spelling, grammar to factuality.

Time also makes the work challenging. Besides waking up early morning especially on Fridays where work begins at 6:00 a.m., I also need to work on a Sunday.

Worry

Since my workplace is an hour-and-a-half or two-hour trip from my hometown, I decided to stay in my aunt's house. The relocation meant I'd have to leave my garden and my pet dog to our caretaker, which had me fret.

My resignation in May 2010 stirred up my interest in plants again. Because I had college away from home and seldom do I get home, I decided to stop from gardening. I lost many plants and my interest in collecting new plants vanished, although I still went to nurseries and fairs.

There came my resignation that had me decide on going back from gardening. I again looked for plants to buy in the local nurseries, in the Internet and in agro-fairs.

I also got interested in getting a pet and decided to buy a Japanese spitz dog.

Although I found a new job in September of the same year, I still was able to spend time with my garden and my pet because it was a home-based job.

Time flew and I felt no progress in my career. I then decided to look for a new job. The journey ended here at Sun.Star.

Because I couldn't take not seeing my garden and my pet, and not going out on an eat out or mall strolling with my mom once a week or at least, rest, I really find time to be at home on my day-off (Saturday). It somehow eases my yearning for gardening, playing with my pet dog and bonding with mom.

Priority

But now, earning a living is a priority, after all, I couldn't personally buy the plants I wanted and shop with mom if don't have anything in my pocket.

For now, work is on top of my priority list. I'd just have to enjoy what my love for writing and editing has to offer, and see what's in store for me for the next months to come.

Adventurer and a Warrior of Christ

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Sat, 05 Feb 2011 05:22:00 +0000

I support all those who aspire to be writers, interior designers or decorators, gardeners, landscape artists, and gay rights activists, after all, I am also aspiring to be great at all of them.

During my lecture on campus journalism held at Leaton School in Toledo City, Philippines last year, I met this little boy who I admire for his charisma and adroitness in both written and oral communication.

I saw his skills during a workshop I facilitated right after my half-day lecture. I grouped all the participants according to their categories (news writing, feature, editorial, sports, photojournalism, etc.) but both participants of the same category from the elementary and high school were grouped together. Although Jobel was with higher levels, it was evident that he was leading the group. In fact, Jobel represented the group in the presentation of outputs where his skill in the oral communication manifested.

The lecture I did was an invite from the said school to prepare their participants in the inter-school writing competition. However, Jobel didn't win in the contest. Many (because I put emphasis on his writing prowess during my lecture) wondered why Jobel didn't make it in the top.

Today, while I was Facebook-ing, Jobel chatted with me and showed me his blog, which he made just November of last year. His first and to date, the one and only post was about his loss in the last year's tilt.

Although Jobel didn't win, I am proud to say that at least, he has started his own blog, making way to honing his skill. And although I am not sure if I were an influence to his "blogging idea," I still am proud of myself to have at least, played a role to encouraging him to continue writing (something that I always push forward among aspiring writers). Now that he's pursuing writing at an early age, he needs following--people who will encourage him to aspire and do best in the field that he does best in the first place. So, I support him.

To those who has read this, let us please follow this young boy at Adventurer and a Warrior of Christ.

When Friendship Is The Best Choice

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 11:51:00 +0000

I don't want to be mawkishly sentimental but at this time, I must excuse myself from such tenet. Cheesy or corny as it sounds but this guy who I shared some crazy moments with bumped into me today unexpectedly, surprisingly--like we've never seen each other for years.

He was too amiable to at least call me when I together with my mom and my niece were on our way to a town mall's food court and too kind to have at least, invited me for a snack. Although I used to feel awkward with his presence, I did get rid of it when I recognized his voice--just today (kudos to me!). This is nauseating but it was a moment in "slow motion." In wonderment, I said, "Hi" while staring at his face, exploring every part of it--the last, his hazel eyes. It was such an incredible moment I never expected to happen--not today, not in that place, not with the people around us. But it happened and to confess, it was an answered prayer.

I was a passionate admirer of him in high school. I was--and am--not a believer of "Age doesn't matter." But those were the times when I had to free myself from such belief. I was older than him.

I admired him so much that I was all willing to spend the rest of the day talking to him and skipping my classes. Although it did not happen, I did find time to share warm conversations with him. Besides his good looks that make the girls and gays at school swoon at him, he was brilliant, conversant with the rudiments of life. He was pleasant to talk to. More than anything else, he knows respect.

Even if I didn't have the chance to share with him my true feelings, I knew he felt it. Leaving aside the fact that I am never open to my own feelings, I chose to keep mum to treasure our friendship because I knew, in the first place, that our friendship was both love and respect (where shared happiness is). And today, it showed. Recognizing my presence was a manifest of his love and respect toward me.

But to be true to myself, I still love this guy. Yet friendship will always be the best choice.

Ten Years After

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 15:08:00 +0000

Ten years from now... Doesn't that remind you of something ten years ago? It was this question from our teachers and our parents that brought us a bit of confusion, "What do you want ten years from now?" I could vividly remember what half of the class would say. Teacher and engineer. Those were the common answers yet I didn't fall under the "common answer category." Of course, I couldn't forget what mine was too. Although I was a little bit torn between architect and journalist (or sometimes, theater director), I didn't fail to say architect. Obviously, much of it was influenced by my grandma's recollection of her memories about my late grandpa, who was an architect (but who I didn't get to meet), which she used to share with me in our usual afternoon chat.

But honestly, in my heart, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to become. True, I did have lots of things I enjoy doing. There were writing plays and short stories, directing stage plays, acting, dancing, designing and doing gardens, decorating our home, and the list goes on. But I wasn't sure if there were courses related to those things that I could take up and if there were, I wasn't sure what to pick out. So, since I was too sure what an architect does--based from my grandma's tales--I chose it unfailingly.

Now here comes "ten years after." I don't design homes yet I write about a lot of things including "homes." Although I am a mass communication graduate and yes, I should be working in a newspaper company, I decided not to and instead, get involved with the trend, cyber writing. I got involved with a software company and now, I am on my own doing web content writing.

I decided to write about this when during a conversation, a friend told me, "This is what it is ten years after..." Besides the "ten years from now question," I did have lots of things in mind that I would want to accomplish in ten years time. So, when a friend said that, I thought and evaluated not only about what profession I have been wanting to pursue but also, what I have done in my life after all those years. Like anybody, I've set my goals. However, it's quite sad to know that I haven't yet come midway to what I have set for myself in ten years time. Sure distressing it was, but a further and deep ponderation made me feel rather encouraged.

Life is not a fast track. We don't get things right away--the way we want it. Ten years does sound like a long time--enough to get all things done--but today, ten years is like a fastball. Days happen in no time. Or even if ten years is for real, seemingly endless, enough to fulfill our desires in life, there are so many things to be done before you get what you want in life unless you take shortcuts or luck comes your way.

Good for those who are blessed by chance. But for the unfortunate souls, and count me in, we might need another ten years to fulfill our dreams. But hey, don’t kill yourself. Let’s just take things one at a time. They'll come in the right time.

It Wasn't Great But It Was A Good While

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 10:55:00 +0000

2010 wasn't a good year for me in terms of career and romantic relationship. I resigned from work last May, leaving me unemployed for several months although I did recover from a job offer as a writer-working-at-home. But never did the heavens bless me with affaire de coeur—never, since time immemorial—although I am never anxious about it too. I am just saying.

2010 wasn't at all something worth remembering. True, there were several things that happened that year but they were not as recallable as those things that happened prior to 2010. However, I must admit they've made several contributions to growing as a better person.

2010 had quite a few donnybrooks, and they were significant ones—from a heated argument with my boss to my brother's to my mother's. All of them I did in battle for a principle I hold dear—to revere one's right for freedom of speech.

2010 got me several things I die for—shoes, bags, a pet dog, variegated plants I have been dying to have—and several things to get through—article topics I have never had written, a great landscape project I never had thought of, dying plants that need to be saved, failures from job applications, frustrations, headaches, stomachaches, diarrhea moments, and other countless challenges.

I must admit 2010 wasn't something to cherish but it was one year I must thank for, after all, a year in itself is a whole lot of life. Thanks to the Almighty! And thanks to those who made my 2010 a good while.

The Will To Kill Myself

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Sat, 11 Dec 2010 10:53:00 +0000

Times come when depression hits me and killing myself is the option to stop it.

Although, I have not really been able to try to slash my wrist with a knife or overdose myself with pills or tie a rope around my neck, I love to imagine ending my life and if I can, seeing myself in blood.

True, I have suicidal imaginations.

To be continued.

"Suicide is a fundamental human right. This does not mean that it is morally desirable. It only means that society does not have the moral right to interfere." Thomas S. Szasz

Bad Blood

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Sun, 05 Dec 2010 05:09:00 +0000

Days could be so unpredictable. Waking up in the morning and be greeted with a beautiful weather surely makes anybody's day but certainly a bad weather equals a bad mood following a bad day. Yet I am the exception. My day really depends on the people around me, and not exactly on weather (though they may be at times). Having me on a long wait, postponing schedules, and nonsense talking are as good as sulk.

And what do you think makes me write this? Obviously, I'm in a bad mood. I've been for the past weeks. My pay for my articles has been delayed for weeks. My plans with my mother to shop for plants have been cancelled. And clearly, I have been waiting for that pay and that day where I could do a garden shopping. Tell you, they may sound like one but they're not petty. My blood boils for these things and for the people who do this to me. Now that my employer and my mother—no exception—are involved in this, I just hate them. I'm totally in a bad blood now. And writing about this is just one way to let this all out.

Here are a list of things you shouldn't do to me (besides what have been mentioned) to prevent me from bloodlust (just exaggeration, I can't kill although I feel like doing it—through words, of course):

1. Taking a different path in a specific conversation; nonsense talks

2. Broken promises

3. Quick change of plans

4. Telling me the same things, like a broken record

5. Telling me you're not satisfied of the things I've given you

6. Your cowardliness; too weak to do a even simple speech to 10 people

7. Your reckless behavior

8. Your dullness; can't get things right at one instruction

9. Your self-obsession

10. Betrayal

11. Your aggressiveness and conceitedness

12. You over-humbleness

And yes, a hundred others.

Now what makes your blood boils?

What's With Glee 2

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Sun, 28 Nov 2010 06:39:00 +0000

I am not really a Glee fan (or Gleek, as Glee people puts it) until my closest of friends, who are 99.9% Gleeks, have persuaded me to become one. Although, I have not gone as crazy as they were, I have set aside some time for the most famous craze in the world today (not really). And although I have not been able to follow every episode in Glee 1, I have not been left behind by time. Well, who would be when your friends talk about it more often than their obsessions and enemies and when the Internet has more than what you needed to know about it? So now that my friends have successfully cajoled me, I have kept track of Glee 2. But more than the peer influence, the reason for doing so is that a fellow Filipino will be in cast--Charice. And more than that petty reason (as I am not a fan of Charice, I just wanted to see how she acts besides hearing her sing), Kurt--who I admire for his acting skill--will be getting a boyfriend. And now that it's pretty clear where the story line is heading to, it's pretty clear where this leads me--to becoming a Gleek.

Seeing the last five episodes, it seems to me Glee will be turning into a "Kurt show" tackling about this hideous homophobic bullying. If it does, I hope Murphy does it in a good way. If not, better settle this plot earlier and rather focus on other stuff.

Bullying--not just homophobic bullying--has been a major concern among youth today. While these young people spend most of their time in school, it is not only their parents' responsibility to protect them but more importantly, it is the schools' duty to safeguard them against bullies, making sure legal actions are taken when such problem exists. But seeing how Kurt and Karofsky's case went in Glee 2 episode 8, it is sad to have known that the school hasn't done something to stop Karofsky's life-threatening acts toward Kurt. Although I knew this has 'just' been done to run a story line, I hope this wouldn't happen in reality. In the Philippines however, many schools and universities do not have bylaw protecting the rights of their students. If there is/are though, it/they may be too general to address a specific issue. This is a call to schools, colleges, and universities to take action. After all, it's the students who make an institution.

While this Glee 2 is putting much focus on Kurt, considering bullying, I expect us, everyone who watches it--not only the Gleeks--to take this into our minds and to take action through our own means whenever possible.

To be honest, I am grateful to have been influenced by friends to watching Glee. I thought it was just this another gay show--flamboyant production that comes with jazzy dialogues and embellished with a modified music--Glee at its core, has got a list of lessons to share.

Warning: Just a thought. This is not a Glee promotion article.

Lecture-Workshop on Campus Journalism

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 14:11:00 +0000

I had fun last week when I gave a lecture-workshop on campus journalism to more than 50 student journalists of Leaton School (Toledo City, Philippines). I was invited to talk about news writing, feature writing, editorial writing, copyreading and headline writing in particular. The whole-day activity was concluded with a workshop, presentation of outputs, and a critique session.

While it was fun talking to aspiring writers, I couldn't help it not to become a little bit dramatic about how I pursued my dreams of becoming a journalist. So I left everyone with a piece I wrote during the workshop. I call it...

Forget Us Not

"What you learn, you share." This is what I learned in my journey through campus journalism and the world of media.

I loved the thought of writing articles to inform the people, much more, the thought of sharing all the things I have learned about it.

Truth be told, when I was still learning how to write a story, I wished I’d be born genius. If not, someone who can just write without even learning how to do it. I envied those people who facilitate a lecture. I envied people getting fame from their write-ups. I wished I were one of them. However, considering that I wasn’t born under their category, there were really a lot of things to do for improvement.

But in this journey, who would have thought that after graduating college I’d become like them? And the principle that I had been keeping all my journalism life, “what you learn, you share,” will become a reality.

Today, I have again done it. And any day like this, puts me to genuine happiness. Probably the reasons are: I love to talk, to make new friends, to inspire people with my experience, and yes, the one thing my journey has taught me—to share.

As you go along with your new friends in the campus journalism arena and compete in this year's press conference, bring with you your learning—not only about how a story should be written, not only about how many words a lead should have, not only about how you should do your editorials, not only about how you edit an article, bring with you in the contest the great friendships you have made with everyone here. Remember that great friendships are greatest things you will ever get from this experience. Take it from someone who has been into it.

Fate be it, you win—be thankful for it, be proud of it. And write more.

Fate be it, you lose—worry not. It's really not for you. But don’t lose hope. The world has more to explore, and the world, I’m sure, has something in store for you. You may not become the great writer but you might become the subject of an article your 'writer-friend' will cover. You might become the next Charice or the next Aquino, and rest assured, you will be in headlines.

Win or lose, don’t stop sharing to other people what you've learned from this experience. It may be about your win, your lost, the friendship. The experience you will get from here will shape your future if providence holds that you become a writer in the future. Or destiny holds this will be your stepping stone to becoming the next president of the Philippines or the next Miss Universe. It may sound entirely illogical but who knows?

If your future holds that you’d be next Conrad de Quiros, Philippine’s most famous columnists or opinion writer, don’t forget about me. And don’t forget about the things I have shared to you. Don’t forget to share to other people the things you have learned in this journey and your journey in the real world of journalism. Please, forget me not. Forget us not.

Diarrhea and Fame

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 14:54:00 +0000

An introduction speech I gave during my lecture on campus journalism at Leaton School, Nov. 13, 2010.

When you are into the business of campus journalism--a writer or a school paper adviser--you would have to bear one of the greatest ordeals in life--diarrhea. I am pretty sure that all of you have experienced this fluttering and nauseated sensation going on in your stomach as you waited for the winners of that year's press conference. I can relate to that. I also had a fair share of diarrhea moments during my press conference days. And waiting for that somebody to tap your back to cool you down reassuring victory wouldn't happen as everyone's at the helm of their own nerves. So manage your own-self, after all, it will pass. Give it a thought that the agony of bearing it is all worth it especially when in the end, that one hope becomes a stroke of luck. As they say, winning in a press conference is fairly much about luck. Good for those who are fortunate because that would only mean, the diarrhea is all worth it, and well, more fans have been waiting. After all, the student journalists are celebrities in their own means.

Diarrhea and fame are two of things I associate with my press con days. My journey as a student journalist started with sports writing at 5th grade till the 6th grade. I took a different path and became a news writer in high school. I wasn't really a good sports writer nor a news writer. I didn't have a pocketbook of words as I wasn't fond of reading. I knew my grammar but I couldn't start my story. Worst, I didn't know how to end my story. My articles were often stained with red ink, and as I looked at them, I couldn't think of other ways to rewrite them. I had the worst penmanship. It can hardly be read. I wasn't born a writer. But I was determined to become one. So I took my training with my school paper adviser seriously. I subscribed to newspapers. I took formal workshops. All of these had me at my best.

Like anyone who competes for the press conference, I went through them in hopes to win. But it didn't come to me that that one diarrhea moment would change how people see me and how I see my future. I am talking about my greatest achievement of all my press conference days. As a news writer, let me share it with you in an uncomplicated manner: my name was called, I was donned a medal, and handed a trophy with an inscription, 1ST PLACE NEWSWRITING ENGLISH REGIONAL SCHOOLS PRESS CONFERENCE. Knowing that there were 80 plus of us competing for the top 4 spots, I was, well, thrilled and honored and proud. However, getting that one spot wasn't as easy as how I put it. Weeks were spent knowing everything there was to know. And though constructive, they were still criticisms that pain me yet were swallowed for the interest of learning. And that diarrhea, it was worth it.

Thenceforth, people in school, my friends, my relatives, and even strangers have recognized me as a writer. Thenceforth, my venture into the real world of journalism began.

I decided to take up communication with emphasis in journalism in college. All there was in my thought then was to graduate and work for a newspaper. Nonetheless, it didn't turn out to be that way. To my surprise, there were more diarrhea moments--the interviews with the city mayor, governor, and other government officials; coverages of crime incidents as they happened, coverages of fire incidents; etc.

But as I try to recall the days that had at my best, I can see that there's not much difference. I can only help myself do it. Again, it will pass. And it is all worth it when that stroke of luck becomes yours because that would mean your article gets published, even luckier than the others when your article lands on the first page of the newspaper. That would mean, more fans have been waiting.

I guess that's just how the world of journalism works. So long as diarrhea and fame are inseparable there's nothing to worry about unless that diarrhea is more than just a cause of nervousness.

Another (Young) Gardening Icon

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Wed, 03 Nov 2010 05:51:00 +0000

I have been infatuated with gardening lately. If you look at my web browser and check its history, what you'll find are a list of gardening blogs and nurseries online.

This quest has been very exciting and inspiring. If you don't love plants I am sure you can hardly relate to me. But if you do, definitely, you'll understand what I am talking about. The feeling brought about by discovering new species of plants and learning that your current plants have more to show when they grow older is totally exciting and inspiring. More than that, I am really inspired by one blogger whose name is Aaron.

While googling 'cordylines,' I bumped into Aaron's blog, which he calls Aaron's Gardening Blog. Aaron is a teenager who's fond of growing carnivorous plants. Though his passion goes for these exotic species, Aaron features other types of beautiful plants.

What inspires me about Aaron is the fact that not too many young guys have the enthusiasm for plants. His passion manifests in his blog, which features a number of great photos. And his knowledge about plant names is wide (wider than mine).

Spurred by my interest to know him better and make friends with him (as they say, birds of a feather flock together (yes, not "birds of the same feather flock together," as people used to say)), I searched for Aaron's Facebook account. I found it and added his account. Gladly, he accepted the invite. It was to my surprise that this young guy's hard work had paid off. He was featured in a newspaper in Malaysia (where he lives), New Straits Times, for a 'carnivorous appetite.'

Aaron's also has excellent academic standing.

To recognize this boy's achievement, I sent him an e-mail commending him for his wonderful acts. He responded: "Thanks a lot. Not many people here appreciate my hobby. However, through blogging, I've found fellow hobbyist[s] around the world. I'm even more motivated and passionate in gardening after blogging. Gardening sure is a fun and rewarding hobby. Thanks again for you compliment!!"

Sure Aaron, it is! And let me add, inspiring.

My grandmother has been my inspiration in pursuing this fondness since age 8 but there's no question not to add Aaron into the list of my gardening icons.

May he be an example to everyone.

Garden Update

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 12:10:00 +0000

True, time is really important when you're into gardening. So while I have all the time in world (I am working in-house as a writer, so please contact me when you're looking for one), I visit other gardens, nurseries, and to complete it, shop for new plants. It's a great time to do some shopping as I am doing another landscape project at home.

Tell you, if many gardeners love the flowering bushes and trees, I don't. My craze goes for the foliages, and I am sure, this insanity doesn't stop until I get all species of Cordylines. Here are a few I got (and I used for my landscape project). Also, I got other species including calatheas, stromanthe, and schefflera, which are all admired by their beautiful foliages.

Stromanthe, 2 kinds of calathea, and schefflera, respectively.

Again, I don't really go for flowering plants but I am not a hardline to some sort. I still love them. I got a few vandas, dendrobiums, cattleyas, roses, mussandaes, oleanders, plumerias, and others. As I can be easily swayed by visual admiration, I got new flowering species added to my collection, though I only got a photo of my hydrangeas.

As I took these photos (and patience for the low quality, I only used a mobile camera), I couldn’t stop my excitement to shop for new plants this Saturday.

Anybody going with me?

The Faceless Diarist

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 16:46:00 +0000

There were no words heard, even a single word from their mouths. Their laughter and their breaths were the only music heard--a music that tells something, something that is untold.

A woman was sitting on a weather-beaten park chair in this place thought to speak of people's lives. The woman who was dressed in a loosely fitting peasant garment and skirt that almost touched her ankles was static. Her body reclined on the back of the chair and her hands effortlessly rested on her lap. Her eyes a little weary were firmly looking over the dim waters of the bay. Her face was down and gloomy. She was silent and her breathing was slow, as if going with the waves of the ocean. She took breath as the waters pushed and flapped its waves into the shores of the bay, as if communicating and finding solace with the ocean.

Her eyes were evidence of her emotions and her face spoke of her consciousness. In a little while, she stood up and left the place.

A man with furrows on his forehead carrying a torn sack came across her. His right hand on the sack and his left firmly holding, almost squeezing his paunch. But he was thin. His face was covered with grime and he was barefoot. His body slightly bent forward was a reflection of his condition. He took little steps. He frightened people as he came across them. But no words came from him. He continued his way leaving behind his story.

Two women in miniskirts and halter-tops came in after as the man left, displaying themselves in public, showing off their bodies that have long been abused. Their faces rose tinged and their lips were red. They smelled horribly of tobacco. A rough-looking man approached them in the middle of a loud conversation. There happened a little negotiation and in short time, they all went off.

A woman whose mind seemingly active and tireless wandered around in heavy dragging steps. She paused, and decided to sit with her knees bent and heels close to her thighs under an old acacia tree that stood that test of time. She was enjoying the life there was among the passersby but thirteen minutes since her repose, her face showed melancholy. Her focus turned to the waters, a deep penetrating look she gave as if in deep reverie.

A couple seated five meters away from her was in sincere conversation. They seemed to meet first time. In pink frilled top and pale blue jeans, the lady was very reserved and coy yet sexually enticing. She resembled a typical Filipina--Maria Clara--who comports herself with grace. On the other had, the man whose fashion spoke of a modern Filipino was show-off and aggressive. The lady who looked abominated by the guy's jests still handled herself with grace. They guy was at a moment of putting his hands on the lady's lap when a blind man approached them. The man, in a warped wooden cane, was scraggly-looking. As he approached them, he opened his right palm pointing toward the couple. The lady offered her sympathy, without second thought, by giving alms to the impoverished man. The man continued his way and the couple followed.

There came another couple with two kids--a boy about ten and a girl around six. Their faces gay and vivid expressed joy. While strolling, a boy drifted into their way and peddled packs of peanuts. He urged them to buying one. Without hesitation, the couple bought him two. He then went on his way shouting, "Mani! Mani!" The family left after a long walk leaving footprints in the boulevard.

These are a few of the stories shunned along with the waters of the bay as it dims through the nights--stories that only the boulevard herself can tell you in full chapters. As you walk through your way on the long stretch of the Rizal Boulevard (Dumaguete City, Oriental Negros, Philippines) as once the national hero, Jose Rizal, she chronicles your life. After all, she is THE faceless diarist.

The Ringing Ploy

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 05:42:00 +0000

Eleven bottles of beer leaving residue on my grandma's 88-year-old Narra living room table, roasted peanuts on and under our newly bought settee and divan, kernels everyplace, cushions strewn all over the sala... "I got a lot to do today," I tell myself. “Nothing new though.” Dash it all; this line will never change unless dad, bro, and coz stop their gusto over suds. As much as they're vying for a Friday legend, my prayer for change never changes each weekend. But today is the exception. Something has changed. Not my prayer is answered, I mean something else. And one thing must have gone where it's not supposed to be here: a cell phone. "This is not dad's nor bro's nor coz's. Not mom's either," I muse.

Saturday. Everyone's got places to go. Dad's on a weekly meeting with his associates. Mom's just left for an office recollection. Bro's on a college reunion. I am out of harm's way. I am the only one left at home. Today is best for housecleaning. "Let's get this done; lay by my memory of this unfamiliar cell phone." I consider.

"1,2,3... dust-offs and mop-ups here and there; all things to where they belong," I sing repeatedly while cleaning. I do this too often. It's my easer. Who doesn't grow weary of weekly 'grand' housecleaning? The great ditty that vexes our gray haired, wrinkling neighbor—as old as my grandma's Narra table—as she hears it, hits an hour and a half. "And now is the time to think it over; who owns this phone?"

"Who own this phone?" I ask myself. "Who owns this phone?" I ask again while trying to recall the Friday night. "Who owns this phone?" I ask the third time until it becomes a jingle of the day. But no hit. It doesn't after an hour and a half. Not even six or seven. Worst eight, past my lunch.

I don't meddle with other people's things. It's not my business. "But this time, this time, I got to do it." I unlock it, and navigate around it. But it's odd, puzzling. "Suspicious?" No message I found. Phonebook is clear—not a single entry. "Strange, really. Who own this phone?" I ask the last time. So I thought. But there comes the jingle over and over. Just exactly I intone 'who own this phone?' it rings. But how strange it is. Asher Book croons over the phone the unparalleled Ordinary People. It's my all-time favorite song. It’s the ring tone I have set for my phone. "Coincidence?" I ask in bewilderment.

There's no time for all these doubts and fear. "Hello?" I answer pronto. "HEL-LO!" a voice guttural and dragging came in from the other line. "I-WILL-SEE-YOU-AT-THE-TRES-BRASSERIE-7-PM. DRESS-GOOD. YOU'LL-GET-WHAT-YOU'VE-BEEN-LOOKING-FOR," the man adds sounding like android. Too weird, my hairs begin to stand on end. "Très Brasserie?" It's my favorite diner in town. "Très Brasserie; TB? How could this be?" I continue. "This is no fluke!" I insist. Worst, all my calls to mom, dad, and bro can't be made. More questions follow. Doubts. Indecision.

Decision. Dress good. Come hell or high water, I come, playing intrepid.

Five minutes to go and it's seven. Exactly as this android-voiced man schedules, I am dropped by this taxicab right in front of TB. The day's oddness never ceases. TB's dark. "Looks like it's closed." My fright hits again. "DA-DUM-DA-DUM-DA-DUM," my heart pounds like hell. "WHAT DA!" I shriek when Asher blows over the phone. More to it is due to the perturbation that hit me earlier. The song is nevertheless melodramatic, after all. "Hello?" I respond shivering. Before the caller answers, the sign board Très Brasserie lights up.

"COME-IN," the man commands. I take little steps forward while trying to swallow all the willies lurking inside me, and clutch the knob. The call is on hold. Pushing the door, the lights turn on contemporaneously. The call is dropped. Mom, dad, bro, cozes, other members of the family, and friends all together hail "Surpise! Happy Birthday!"

Dad then approaches me, whispers, and makes a sound: "HOW'S-YOUR-NEW-PHONE?"

“How can this day be so dramatic and so suspense, and yes, so wearying—physically and mentally that I almost forgot… today is my birthday!” The scheme irks me. Even so, I thank mom and dad for the present, and everyone for coming. I shed tears of annoyance and joy. I laugh for the same reasons.

Just Nostalgia

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Fri, 08 Oct 2010 14:16:00 +0000

While I was browsing some old photos of friends and myself in my facebook account, I felt nostalgic. And I couldn't help myself but cry and smirk and feel remorse of the things I have not made the most.

I've had great memories in the past 21 years (I'm 22 now) and more of them are credited to my high school and college days. Those were the days where I was enjoying every single moment of my life. There were the fame and the awards from hard work. There were the greatest friends of all my days. There were the dramas and the insanities to balance life. There were the hardships and the triumphs; the ups and downs. There were intimidations and refusals to take the challenges, and there were the regrets for not having done them or even try.

If I could turn back time, I should have done even more, enjoyed even more, gone crazy even more, and tried the things I refused to do. But there were episodes of my life that I wish to stay as is--the best successes and the happiest moments.

Now, as I look at the present, I wish that what I left from the past especially the good ones will happen in the years to come--even more substantial.

Passion & Creative Juices

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 12:54:00 +0000

Lately (I know it's a no-no in writing to start with time but just allow me to...) I have been entertaining so many thoughts (a lot really) about my plants, collecting new species, doing garden projects, and all these things about beautiful ornamentals and gardens. My time has been spent to thinking all of these things. I am also hectic toward attending to my garden. I have also been going around the city to visit nurseries and searching over the net for great foliages and angiosperms that I could buy to add to my growing collection.

Gosh, I couldn't stop myself from thinking what I love best! Perhaps the urge to 'discharging' my creative juices pushes me to working on some new projects. They're being suppressed for a long time (I have not been able to write and direct my own play).

Note: I wish to upload photos of my garden but it’s still on progress. I chose this photo instead. Photo advertising is free of charge (hmmm).

Beginning & End Betrothed

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 14:18:00 +0000

While watching History Channel's Nostradamus 2010, which discusses in-depth the scientist's prophecies of the final destruction of the world, this afternoon, and while staring dramatically at a picture of my former office bunch this evening, I couldn't help it but linked the two and drew a conclusion: 'there really is an end to everything.'

Whether Nostradamus' gloomy prognosis happens or not, in real life, beginning and end are in all means betrothed--he goes to school and graduates, a movie opens and closes, this guy wakes up and slumbers, a bottle of scent once filled drains, a lake once rich dies, he steps into fame and perishes from spotlight, a flower blooms and withers, you live and die. As the company I once worked with (I resigned earlier before things took place) closes, my friends whom I've left for five months will also go separate ways, and the life that once flourished and shared ends in that one room where all the dramas took place.

Beginnings often petrify, excite, in unusual case, irk (when during first day of class we lost our way, when met with an office mate with superiority complex, when language becomes a barrier to a first-time trip somewhere) us. But endings, without doubt, are oftentimes blue. Whether that end calls for a 'goodbye' (deaths, anything can't be brought back like a sight lost in an accident, from a daily close encounter to an eternal long distance ties) or 'see you later' (occasional meetings), it is beyond doubt, melancholic. Good if it's 'see you later' because there is hope of a new beginning.

Our parting at Solvate (the company)--though can be 'see you later' (as we're just around)--is truly despairing; it's a goodbye. We can never redeem the everyday meeting--seeing each other, breathing one air, and hearing each other's thoughts. The lost of one is a deduction of the sum of the happiness and sadness that, in times past, was enjoyed. And though half-pint, it makes a big difference. Life will never be like when it was once was, when no seat was empty and no footprint was on leave.

As all things come to an end, everyone is on search for a new life now. As new life is found, one important thing is carried on from the past--memories. As new beginning opens, I hope all these memories will not be forgotten, and 'see you later' will not be an option but always a requisite--whether each of these new lives will succeed to happiness or fall in desolation.

Just Murmuring Past-Present-Future

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Tue, 21 Sep 2010 14:33:00 +0000

It's been a while since I last wrote a post.

I was just quite busy with all these stuff in my life--finding the right path to my career, deciding what line of work best fits my expertise, my needs (the pay and the office atmosphere), the needs of my coming years (if the career path I'll take will sustain me in the years to come), taking care of my garden, sprucing up our backyard (doing my landscaping after I did our front), collecting new species of flora (mostly flowering), getting involved in new gigs (new but still has something to do with writing, well...), learning new things by reading topics I used to hate (like taxes, state laws, and psychology-related), trying to work on a new life (ditching temper and extravagance on material things, I am trying...), making things I hate--not all though--work for me, and just making all these present things around me work for me and my subsequent years.

Successfully, I just ditched splurge today. Today is my birthday (Happy Birthday Homo WTG!) and I practically did it--I celebrated my day with a small gathering with my family (from the usual shindig).

While all of these are happening in my life today, I just hope all of these will lead to success and will make me a better person. Help me do.

How To Write

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 17:05:00 +0000

No one can tell. Millions of books have been published and hundreds of courses have been offered in universities to teach you how to write yet no one can tell you how to do it--how to instigate, choose, and stitch your own thoughts into a beautifully crafted composition. There are maybe hundreds of rules for composition, grammar, style of writing, whatnot, but it's only you who can answer such question.

Writing is about expressing oneself. And even if there are the style books and writing subjects that tell you how to arrange your thoughts into a flawless piece following the rules of grammar set for you, it is only you who can bring those thoughts out, spell them out, and work them out for you and for the people who you'd want to read it. The word 'style' says it all. It's relevant to say why one's writing style differs from the other.

I've been into writing since 11 and pursued Communication with emphasis in Journalism in college. I've studied the English language, grammar, compositions, styles, etc. But as soon as my teacher asks me to write a piece for a particular topic, although those things help, only myself can start it out. Now, it's more logical to ask: How can you stir great thoughts for an article? It's all about inspiration.

Finding your own inspiration allows you to stir great ideas that you could use to write your article. Ideas flow when there are enough means of motivation. Also, the wider your experience in life is, the easier for you to start writing. With this, I'd always emphasize that the best teachers in writing are those who share their experience and inspiration for their craft, not merely the rules of it. And yes, write through your heart.

Maugham of Summing Up, 1938 best summarizes this article: "A good style should show no signs of effort. What is should seem a happy accident." No one tells you how to write. You tell yourself how to do it.

Ordinary People

noreply@blogger.com (Mr. J.A. Book) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 07:07:00 +0000

I don't often write about the entertainment particularly the music scene. This does not mean though I am THE anti to some sort. Everybody loves music and so I am. And like others, I don't really buy all these genres peddling in the market today. I am kind of choosy to the kinds of music I listen to. If there are those who go crazy over the resounding beat of the rock, I don't. And those repetitive, futile lyrics just make me go nuts. "Baby, baby, oh. Baby, baby, no." What the hell!

I am a consumer of jazz, soul, ballad, acoustic, classic, and a bit of pop and RnB (with value). Rounding off my deafening (from overplaying) top 25 are:

25 Kepedanya (Taufik Batisah)

24 Pokerface (Glee Soundtrack)

23 Circle Of Life (Lion King Soundtrack)

22 Seasons Of Love (Rent Soundtrack)

21 With You (Chris Brown)

10 Flying Without Wings (Ruben Studdard)

19 Superhuman (Chris Brown feat. Keri Hilson)

18 Love Heals (Rent Soundtrack)

17 I'd Rather (Luther Vandross)

16 Together (Ruben Studdard)

15 Halo (Beyonce Knowles)

14 I'll Cover You (Rent Soundtrack)

13 I'm Yours (Jason Mraz)

12 Everything (Michael Buble)

11 Like A Prayer (Glee Soundtrack)

10 Dance With My Father (Luther Vandross)

9 Someone To Watch Over Me (Asher Book, Fame)

8 Part Of Your World (Little Mermaid Soundtrack)

7 Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word (Blue feat. Elton John)

6 One World One Dream (Wang Lee Hom)

My top 5 really speaks of my musical preference and somehow, my life.

5 Hold Your Dream

From the soundtrack of the movie "Fame," this extraordinary piece will certainly lift one's spirit to believing in himself to reaching his dream. And true to what it says, you will "find strength when people bring you down."

4 Defying Gravity

Originally recorded by Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth for the musical Wicked, Defying Gravity is a rhythm beyond the pale--too passionate and too empowering. Recounting of living life without limits and going against the rules set for us, this song is perfectly written for ones whose life has been lived in stealth, rule, and powerlessness.

3 Home

An all-time favorite, Michael Buble evidently renders this song with all his heart and soul. Personally written by Buble, this describes his loneliness from missing his then-fiancee Debbie Timuss while touring in Italy. Yes, this goes for all men longing to go home to be with their lovers.

2 Try

Try recounts the story of a man who, in spite of being not ready--and from hiding--still tries to win the heart of a lady. Together with the soothing rhythm and language, Asher Book completes it with his lovely calming voice.

And my number one song is...

1 Ordinary People

Originally recorded by John Legend, Ordinary People made its way into the soundtrack of the movie "Fame" and was sung by Asher Book. Encompassing love, dealing with relationships, and making relationships work, Ordinary People is naturally phenomenal. (Words aren't enough to spell out the beauty of this song; listen to it.)

Now, what's yours?