Go Grab Yourself Some of Me

RIP Macy. Hello Gray!

2012-01-15T07:48:00.000-08:00

Macy, my dear black Macbook served me well. She died a couple of weeks ago. Heat stroke I believe. She was too old and I must've worked her to the point of fatigue. The last thing I remember was that she refused to respond after I opened up another instance of YouTube (yes it's just that, not even the orgasm-inducing sites). She went on shock. Coma. Cardiac arrest. She never recovered after that.

More than any other reason, my heart sank after realizing I failed to back up my music and images...the two best things Macy was able to hold for me inside her generous bosom. I mourned her passing alright, but I almost choked on my chow mein realizing that her overused brain went completely kapoof on me as well.

She was five years old (can anybody tell me how old that is in the iWorld?). Aside from a severe spell of laziness, her getting sick and her eventual death were the main reason why I held off from writing anything on here. You see it's not like I write as easily and effortlessly like some bloggers I read, so Macy's tantrums and stalling tactics were enough reason to get distracted and for procrastination to kick in.

And after several failed attempt of reviving her, I decided, well, I will let her rest in peace.
So goodbye my dear dark lady. Thanks for the many years you have spent with me.

Macy, my dear 5-year old Macbook black.

But then of course, I now say hello to my one week old Gray! It's got big shoes to fill this one, and I hope he will serve me as long as Macy did when she was still working (considering the dent he made on my savings account, he better last at least twice as long with me). So far I am impressed. He works fast, he looks good. I am able to blog again and for that I am thrilled!

Gray, my 1-week old Macbook Pro.

Awestruck

2011-12-17T08:41:00.000-08:00

It was awe inspiring in so many levels.

And I had goosebumps numerous times as I slowly strolled down the vast galleries showcasing some of the finest works of art from the masters I used to only read in books - Renoir, Gauguin, Monet, Degas, Cezanne, Seurat, Sisley, Manet, Pissarro, Cabanel, Fantin-Latour, Seguin and many many more. On every turn, in every gallery, I couldn't count the number of times I blurted out "oh my god!".

But I almost burst into tears when I saw this (I am not kidding!), the showpiece of the very last gallery of the exhibition called Dreams and Reality, at the National Museum of Singapore. More than a hundred pieces on loan from the Musee D'Orsay Paris, but being in the presence of this piece is for me one of the highlights of my life.

Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night Over the Rhone, circa 1888. It's the real thing, hanging right there for everyone to admire. And I am one lucky chap to have seen and experienced it up close.

Rome on Foot: Part II

2011-11-19T08:58:00.001-08:00

I arrived in Rome and immediately headed out to see what the guidebooks mentioned were points of interests. But my goodness, there were just so many!

I started with the churches and the palazzos, and in Rome you see them in every corner.

I got lost a few times, and I remember desperately trying to fight off the cold especially after mid day. That's when the wind started getting nasty. I felt my ears and cheeks were numb a few times, and my lips were dry they felt like leather more than skin.

But I didn't want to stop, I thought I was wasting my time resting for more than five minutes.

With each few hundred meters I saw more. I remember saying "oh my god!" a number of times. I was just in awe. But how can one put into words just the experience of being there? More so while standing right next to these?

As customary for any tourist traveling to Rome, I threw several coins at the legendary fountains of Trevi and wished that someday I'll get the chance to see its beauty again.

I went on discovering the ancient ruins at the Palatino/Capitolino Hills. I intentionally put this spot towards the end of my day because I figured the setting sun would create the perfect lighting to capture great images. I think I managed to do just that.

I just had to see the Pantheon before calling it a day. Dinner was a big and comforting slice of warm pizza at the Piazza Navona.

My day ended with me taking a cab back to my hotel. It was getting way too cold to walk back anyway. Rome also gets a little bit scary at night, so my paranoia got the better of me. While the cab was navigating a narrow alley, I noticed signs that Christmas was just around the corner. Christmas lights in Rome were nothing compared to what Ayala Avenue has during Christmas season, but who needs lighting when the city itself is what people came there to see? I had a cappucino at a bar before settling back at my hotel.

The following day I made my way up to Vatican City, which I think was the highlight of this entire trip.

Upset

2011-11-18T10:19:00.001-08:00

Now that we've shamed ourselves in front of the world by proving yet again that we, as a nation of 80 million people, cannot elect a single person worthy of the presidency, shouldn't we demand that this political soap opera extend to those rich monkeys in Congress as well? Aren't those idiots who call themselves "honorable" all Presidents-in-waiting anyway? I am sure that with the rate things are unfolding, the "bakya" in all of us wouldn't want this embarrassment to just abruptly end do we? Besides, what do the we talk about then? Good news about the economy? Our athletes winning gold medals? That makes us feel good and proud, we don't want any of that! We want what's awful and disgraceful and shameful about our country showcased for the rest of the world to see. That's our niche in the world, we're good at topping every darn survey of what's "worst" there is (don't we just love NAIA 1?).

Sorry for the sarcasm, but the news coming out of Manila makes me sick. You might hate me for saying this, but our country is drowning in stinking, rotting shit.

And only a fool would believe otherwise.

Beautiful Thought Indeed

2011-11-16T07:02:00.001-08:00

I saw this on a Facebook page called "Beautiful Thoughts" one morning on my way to work, and it just instantly cheered me up. I told myself I just had to repost.

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up.

As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off!

MORAL :

Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a steppingstone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up.

Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

1. Free your heart from hatred - Forgive.

2. Free your mind from worries - Most never happens.

3. Live simply and appreciate what you have.

4. Give more.

5. Expect less from people but more from God.

Hillary Clinton

2011-11-15T05:38:00.001-08:00

I've never been fascinated by any public figure until I've heard and read about Hillary Clinton.

I can unashamedly say that I've been a HUGE follower for a long time. Let me attempt to prove that claim.

First I've read two of her books. It Takes a Village, and Living History.

Since then I was hooked.

During the 2008 primary fight for the Democratic Presidential nomination, I'd obsessively search for news and articles online just to get my daily Hillary fix. I eagerly waited for new campaign ads on her website. I spent hours in front of the computer at home, and then again at the office in the evenings, looking for any updates about her. I watched every debate of the Democratic primary. I read and re-read political blogs about her, and even signed up on several news websites just to chime in and get my two cents across online discussion boards. I remember one Washington Post commenter (obviously a Republican) replying to one of my posts, saying it's a pity I was even commenting because I was obviously the lone dissenting voice. I even opted-in to her campaign mailing list (which was useless because I am not allowed to contribute to her campaign!). I remember staying wide awake all day, coming off from the graveyard shift, waiting for results of the Obama-Clinton saga. The big States she won - New York, California, Texas, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Florida and I celebrated with her. I was heartbroken when she almost lost it in New Hampshire during an interview, and was equally angry when she famously said "Shame on you, Barack Obama!" for resorting to Karl Rove-ian tactics in Ohio.

I agreed with her, and I still do, that change cannot be had by simply giving a speech and waving a magic wand, hoping celestial beings would appear and make everything as it should be. That experience will always trump a hopey-dopey promise of change. But alas, Obama's message was more resonant. America couldn't pass the chance of electing the first black President, inexperience notwithstanding. And yeah, Oprah threw her considerable weight on the change bandwagon. Mainstream media made sure Hillary got the worst publicity ~~character assassination~~, and painted her as Satan's wife incarnate. History was made. She lost. I was crushed. I consoled myself by watching the entire Clinton concession speech several times, until I memorized most of her catchy lines. I thought her message was eloquent and beautiful.

Then she became Obama's Secretary of State. A Secretary of State unprecedented in terms of unanimous support from the Pentagon, a perennial State Department rival for power. A Secretary of State unprecedented in terms of global name recognition and star power. A Secretary of State so well respected by the military brass she could very well be the Commander-in-Chief-in-waiting.

She recently lost her 92-year old mother, Dorothy Rodham due to illness. She was on her way to London for a conference on cybersecurity when she heard the news. But just a few days after she was back on the road in Guam, delivering a speech at the APEC Summit, in which the US is currently the co-chair.

Today she's in Manila, her second trip to the country since becoming the US Secretary of State - the most widely traveled SOS in US history, and according to many, one of the best who had ever held the job. While everyone is agog in Manila about the TRO on Gloria, Hillary will probably be in serious talks about China's aggressive claiming of the entire West Philippine Sea. I expect her to offer a forceful rebuke about the shameless arrogance and greed of the Chinese, their utter disrespect for UNCLOS and international laws. This can very well be something she'll be able to expertly sort out, as in the case of her victorious diplomatic behind-the-scenes on Libya (documented in TIME's excellent piece of her and Smart Power, out this month). Or her expert resetting of the US-Russia relations after years of animosity. Or her (and Susan Rice's) victory at the UN Security Council in imposing sanctions on the Iranian Revolutionary Guards (against threats of a veto from China and Russia). Her list of achievements at State is rather long.

I often wonder about how America would be now, had she been elected President 4 years ago. Would the US economy still be in the tank? Would unemployment still be at an all time high of 9.1%? Would America still be in Afghanistan and Iraq? Would she have the same set of challenges as Obama has in getting reelected for a second term? I wonder if she will ever run for President again. I am hopeful about the last one, although she's said many times that it is not even in the realm of possibility.

Well I don't know how to end this post really. I can go on an on about the things I know about Hillary Clinton; her life, her politics and her stint at State. I can even go and describe in detail what she wore during Chelsea's wedding to banker Mark Mevzinsky. I guess my point is that I can always prove, if anyone would dare dispute, that I am a fan. A big big fan. But I highly doubt that though, I don't even know if someone would actually be interested in a topic as boring as what I wrote just now.

And this post got me itching to read her book, Living History, all over again.

Rome on Foot: Part I

2011-11-13T03:40:00.001-08:00

Rome. Beautiful Rome.

It will probably rank as the most memorable trip of my entire life. There will be more places to see, but none would compare to the experience of traveling all on my own, to a place that inspires nothing less than awe. I realized while I was there that not everyone would ever have the chance to see the place, and there I was walking its streets, seeing it first hand, breathing its air and tasting its food. I felt blessed. Really lucky. I was happy beyond words.

I was there when the weather was a cool 15 degrees Celcius, warm enough so that I didn't have to fully button up my coat. It was a good trench coat, kept me warm in the bitter winter days while I was in Germany. I decided long before I even took the flight that the only way I wanted to experience Rome was on foot. I will walk with a map in my hands to discover every nook and cranny. I didn't want to have it any other way. I didn't care if I get lost, or if it started to get too cold. I figured that for a few euros, I could always just get into a cafe and sip hot cappuccino if my face started getting numb and I couldn't feel my feet anymore (happened to me while I was in Tokyo some ages back!). Contingency planning was key, I told myself, so I booked a hotel near Stazioni Termini so if I ever strayed to where I shouldn't I could just hail a cab, and every cabbie in Rome knows where the Termini is.

I arrived amidst a flurry of excitement at the Ciampino (the smaller of the two Roman airports). Tourists, many of them rich Chinese, milled about checking on maps and waiting for their tour buses. I bought a normal return ticket from a bus company called Terravision for 8 euros. I figured that was all I needed to get in and out of the city. No need for tour guides nor expensive cab rides. We queued up for a good 30 minutes because our bus was late, so the Germans among the crowd weren't amused. There was a bit of commotion when they all started ganging up on the ticket officer complaining about punctuality and poor service. Punctuality is indeed a German thing. I've seen that first hand in Germany. My daily car service from the hotel where I stayed in Weinheim to our office there would be at the hotel parking lot at exactly 8:30AM, the agreed upon time. The old driver never failed. So before that incident at Ciampino, I've never seen that many angry Germans. It was a sight to behold.

The bus left Ciampino and made its way towards Rome. As we were about to approach the city the cameras started coming out and the clicks just kept on coming. Too bad I all I had back then was my trusty Canon POS. I managed to zoom in to a ruin out on a field while our bus was moving. It was the first of many more ruins I would see on this trip.

Entering Rome

You would know once you've arrived in Rome.Vespas beating the traffic lights, animated conversations at al-fresco cafes, artwork, flowers and souvenirs sold everywhere, pizzerias and gelaterias abound, designer goods behind shop windows line cobble stone streets.

And then there are the brightly colored buildings, with their paints of bright yellow and orange molting away from the old concrete.

A few minutes after checking in to my hotel I was ready to be one with the city. Armed with only a map, some cash and my camera, I would wander across the vast ancient city and discover it on foot.

Hatched at 26 Evans Road

2011-11-13T00:00:00.001-08:00

I headed out to a place called Hatched at 26 Evans Road this morning to try out their famous "brunch" menu. All the dishes they serve are with eggs, which explains the restaurant name. I heard from friends that they serve great Eggs Benedict, and so we wanted to try.

A friend ordered the best seller called Sir Benedict ($15.00, GST included), which are eggs served with bacon, mashed potatoes and arugula salad.

Since we wanted to try other plates I ordered the Burly Benedict, which instead of bacon is accompanied by corned beef and potatoes. We ordered freshly squeezed orange juice to go along with the meal. I spent $18.00 (including GST) for my Burly plus $5.00 for the orange juice, so it's definitely not a cheap breakfast.

The place was packed, the food was good and the restaurant felt like I was back at my college dining hall (which I loved by the way!). I found the Burly was worth it, but the orange juice was a tad bit overpriced (and very sour!). Would I come back to eat here again? Hmm, given the long commute, the long wait time for seating, and the price, probably not.

Jun Sung Ahn

2011-11-11T08:44:00.000-08:00

I am a HUGE fan of this kid.

First of all because he is Asian (lol), he is only 18, and he plays the violin so so beautifully. I love classical music, more so if it's a violin concerto. But this kid takes violin-playing to an entirely new level. He plays in big orchestras alright, but his pop covers of famous songs make even the uninitiated fall in love with the instrument and the sound it makes. And yeah it adds that his violin's name is Debby, my beautiful dog's name.

The instrument takes years to master because it is fretless, which means you've got to move your fingertips at exactly the right spot to bring out the correct note. On top of that one needs to master the use of the bow, letting it kiss at just the right angle and intensity on the strings. But this boy's playing is just effortless. This is awesomeness on YouTube!

Check out his channel. He's got loads of beautiful covers on there too. :)

Almost Christmas in Weinheim

2011-11-11T06:59:00.000-08:00

So first entry after a long while is about travel, which ranks above photography and sports on the list of top thing I like doing. I'm lucky to have a job that allows me to travel to other countries on business, and pays me well enough so I can save for travels of my own.

In the year I was away from this blog I traveled a few times. Barely two months into my new job I was sent to Germany for a business trip. It was in the middle of winter, and my boss was kinda worried a third-world dude from a tropical country would find it difficult to adjust. News of the worst snowfall in Germany's history, as well as several European airports shutting down due to heavy winter snow didn't help ease her anxiety. Well, she was worried, I was not! In fact I was extremely excited to see snow and experience how it's like wearing a full winter regalia (lol). So the trip happened. I was sent to our office in Weinheim, an hour away from Frankfurt. And oh I loved what I saw! Old buildings on every turn, and a castle on a hill overlooking the entire city. It was -1 Celcius the day I arrived, but I couldn't pass the opportunity to see the city on foot and finally walk on snow covered streets.

And when the time came to get settled in at the office, my German colleagues gave me a seat that looks out to the snow falling outside. They said it's beautiful to see the street below get all white as snow slowly falls. My window view from the Weinheim office was awe inspiring.

But of course, there were the night outs. They took me to the university town called Heidelburg (with a more majestic castle on a hill!) to go drinking at an old brewery. Sauerkraut, bratwurst, blood sausages and beer. Then venison, local cheese and fantastic (and expensive!) wine.

It was almost Christmas time when I was there, so a colleague wanted me to see a traditional German Christkindlesmarkt (Christmas market) in Mannheim. Probably the highlight of the entire trip, as it started to snow really hard when we were there! I was told to try out the gluhwein to ward off the cold. It's hot wine spiked with cinnamon and other spices, served in festive, Christmas-themed cups. Amazing, potent stuff!

This trip was awesome on many levels. But the best was yet to come! I was about to see one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. Next stop was bella Roma!

Uniquely Indian

2011-11-11T01:11:00.000-08:00

I couldn't help but admire my Indian colleague's hands. She just came back from India to celebrate Deepavali there, and she had her hands tattooed with henna. Indian ladies do that for special occassions such as weddings and festivals, and Deepavali is one of the biggest.

You know how Indians use their hands when they're talking to you? She was doing exactly that and I was just so mesmerized by the patterns I told her I had to take a picture. She eagerly placed her hands in front of my camera, and I took a shot!

She also gave me a couple of trivias about the Indian Sikh people (she's not Sikh by the way, her family belongs to the Indian elite caste) Did you know that Indian Sikh women all have the same last names? All of them are surnamed Kaur. Same with their men. All of their menfolk have the last name Singh. Both men and women are forbidden to cut their hair (including facial hair) so its common to see the ladies with waist-lenght hair and men wrapping theirs in colorful turbans.

Life Is Good

2011-11-10T21:29:00.000-08:00

When I feel sad, I just look at this to put everything in the right perspective.

Life was, still is, and will always be good.

Is Back

2011-10-29T05:44:00.001-07:00

I stopped writing almost a year ago because there wasn't really anything much to write about. I was in Manila, tired, bored and uninspired. I wrote about running, I wrote about food. My infrequent travels. And I complained about my job. But I was one who was never really big on whining, and I felt like repeating my frustration over work back then across several entries, was increasingly becoming what I don't want my blog to be about. That, and the adjustment i had to do to settle down in Singapore made this space a mere collection of stories written back a few months ago. So I stopped blogging.

But I spent a year experiencing and learning and getting older. More white hair now than a year ago. More wise. Smarter. Less boring. More money in the bank. More moments to write about. I will write again. I will share again.

I'm back.

A Minute for Goodwill

2010-10-11T04:32:00.000-07:00

While on my way home from work this afternoon, I decided to pass by the ATM counters inside the Eunos MRT station to get me some money. There were two long lines of people trying to do the same, and being it the rush hour we were all naturally just dead tired from work and agitating to go home and hit the bed. But an Indian guy was noticeably more agitated than everyone else, sweating profusely when in fact the airconditioning inside the counters was on full blast.

The man was standing in line right beside me, queueing nervously along the crowded counter next to mine. When it was his turn at the counter, he turned to me and said, "brother, could you kindly help me get some money, I do not know how to do it."

It dawned on me that the guy doesn't know how to read. He knows how to push his digits against the keys but he knows nothing about what's written flashing towards him on the screen. He said he only needed $20. I thought, well, what robber would get only 20 from a stolen ATM, when the least amount on the option says $50. He can very well just push that if he was only trying his luck! So I helped him through it, but let him key in his PIN, which I guess he just memorized by repeatedly doing (as opposed to actually reading and getting familiar with the figures themselves). The poor guy's PIN was 123456.

He turned around and said thank you after getting his cash, finally relieved of his ordeal.

I ended my long day tired but smiling, knowing there is some stranger out there thankful for a gesture that took me less than a minute to do.

Eating Well

2010-10-09T09:16:00.000-07:00

Food here is nothing less than excellent. That, together with total lack of any regular exercise, is exactly the reason why I gained a few inches on my waist. I better start running again, coz I know I wouldn't be able to run away from these!

Three and a Half Weeks

2010-10-09T06:16:00.000-07:00

It's been almost a month since I hopped on a plane from Manila to work here in Singapore. It was on my yearly wish list, but I never really thought I'll actually get a job here, much more to settle down and live here, but here I am now trying to adjust to a life in a mega-city known for efficiency and plenty.Of course there are moments when I miss home, the chaos of Manila,chicharon and adobo and Lucky Me Instant Pancit Canton, and my previous life of not constantly bothering to check if I have clean clothes to wear, or remember if I have ironed out dress shirts to make myself look at least decent amongst a designer wearing crowd each morning. Right here I must do everything on my own, all the way down from buying my own food to doing my laundry weekly. But it's a small price to pay for all the amazing things I've seen thus far, the warm and friendly people I've been meeting, and the confidence that only working in a global environment can provide. I've wanted this moment to happen to me, and now I am actually living it. I know that no matter what happens, this was one plane ride I'm glad I took and didn't miss.

Taking Risks

2010-09-19T14:11:00.000-07:00

It's been more than a month since I've written anything on here. Although there's plenty of things to talk about, the drive to blog just wasn't there. There were moments when I didn't even want to log-in. I didn't even write about my birthday, or even the disappointment I felt not getting a job I thought I wanted to do back in Makati. I needed a jolt, some kind of push to get me writing about stuff again.

Something happened the past three weeks that gave me a big enough reason to start running my fingers over the laptop keys.

First, and most important of all, is that I'm able to sleep at night for at least a week straight without fail. Now this may sound inconsequential to some, but for someone like me who worked the graveyard shift for the past 7 years it is a HUGE change.

And now talking about change, my life completely turned upside down in a fast whirl of events within those three weeks too! One evening in Manila I was surfing the web and got reminded of a friend who works for this certain company. I went to their website and saw a job posting abroad that is in line with what I currently do. I decided to give it a go. I was prepared to risk and gamble because I felt like I needed to.

Within a week they were interviewing me over the phone. The next week I was flying in for a hectic day seeing me do a panel interview and a training demo, and only last week I got official confirmation that I got the job, got approved for an employment pass (in just half a day!), resigned from my old job and needed to fly back immediately. Tomorrow I'll start with my new job, officially become an OFW, and become part of the big professional Filipino work force in Singapore.

I'm excited about this change alright, I'm excited more about expanding my horizon. I remember just a few weeks back I was a defeated soul back in Manila, sulking about not doing enough to nail what seemed back then was my one great chance to get out of the work-related rut I was in. I felt like I was stagnating, not learning anything new, not looking forward to being at my desk of 5 1/2 years. And now in a fantastical stroke of good luck, I am here starting a life that seems too bright to be true. And I am positive it will only get better. Truly only through risking will one know what fate has got in store.

The Life That I Have by Leo Marks

2010-07-31T13:42:00.000-07:00

The life that I have
Is all that I have
And the life that I have
Is yours

The love that I have
Of the life that I have
Is yours and yours and yours.

A sleep I shall have
A rest I shall have
Yet death will be but a pause
For the peace of my years
In the long green grass
Will be yours and yours and yours. --Leo Marks

I was watching CNN's report on Chelsea Clinton's wedding when they mentioned that the bride and groom recited this poem to one another. A lakeside wedding, with the sun setting at a beautiful country estate, to the person you've known for 17 long years...i think it's just absolutely sweet.

Seen Around the Metro: Cold, Yummy Things

2010-07-02T22:16:00.000-07:00

Guess what my favorite is.

My Two Seconds of Fame

2010-07-02T06:50:00.000-07:00

So I watching TV at our house in Pampanga last Sunday when I started getting phone calls from people saying they saw me on TV. All I could do was let out a nervous giggle. Unfortunately for me I missed that segment. But then a friend of mine had the brilliant idea of downloading the file from god knows where so they could post it on YouTube. Good thing they didn't yet. I'm getting ahead of them and posting MY cameo here, haha! I'm throwing in a picture of me with Coach Rio for good measure!

With Coach Rio dela Cruz after the Independence Day Run.

Find me on the video!

Travelog Series: Macau June 2010

2010-07-01T19:29:00.000-07:00

We originally intended to just fly to Macau and explore the place. But then after reading more about it, we found out that a day is actually enough if one's not really intending to spend a fortune casino-hopping. Told yah I'm a thrifty traveller! Spending doesn't appeal much to me. :)

It was actually a good decision to spend more time in Hong Kong than here. The casinos were spectacular sights, and we of course tried our luck inside one for good measure (I lost 120 pesos! ). But then after the rush of gambling fades, and the awe from looking up to all things made of shiny glass and colored concrete dissipates, one realizes that unfortunately, there are better places to visit than Macau. Either that or we went to the wrong places.

But of course there were highlights to this leg of our trip! Places not really on the guidebooks, not exactly mapped out on one of those booklets they hand out at the airport. We found those places, ironically, when we got lost.

Some of the more interesting things I saw, captured using my point and shoot camera.

Travelog Series: Hong Kong June 2010

2010-06-28T20:58:00.000-07:00

Hong Kong was never really a place I was excited to see. I’ve always thought of it as just a huge city with nothing really much to offer but expensive shopping and tall skyscrapers. I saw those alright, but then what I discovered was that there’s more to Hong Kong than the usual clichés. Yeah, I’ve heard a lot of stories about items going on sale for as much as 80% on a good season, but then I really am a thrifty traveler, and shopping doesn’t appeal much to me when I go visit a place. The most that I’ve shopped was when I went to Thailand, and even then I just bought a handful of trinkets and sweets to give away, an overpriced souvenir hat from a tribeswoman, and a nice yellow shirt that says “I conquered Chiang-mai” written in the unmistakable and wiggly Thai letters.

So when my travel buddy Marie volunteered to book a flight for us to Macau, I bought in because of the cheap flight and the appeal of being away from work. I haven’t flown out of the country in a year and my first thought was that it’s going to be nice to just be at an airport again. I suggested we go to Hong Kong by ferry and check out the place as well.

Back Story: There’s something about airports that appeals to me. It’s my happy place. I remember being at the Frankfurt International several years back on my way to Brnik, alone and clueless and naturally petrified at the enormity of the place. I’ve been to Narita Airport in Japan for a trip to Tokyo prior to that, and that airport is intimidating, but nothing compares to the German behemoth. There was traffic inside the freaking place! Golf cart-like vehicles full of old ladies plying all over its winding length, bicycles carrying airport personnel pass by at an almost regular interval. I will never forget the sight of an Emirates Airline flight crew walking the hall to their gate, and thought I was watching movie stars in crisp uniforms. Those gals (and the pilot) were all just gorgeous. A fleet of gigantic 747’s just right outside the window, duty free shops that looked more like enormous shopping centers, people of every possible nationality milling about, probably as amazed as I was of the place. Imagine a 23 year old from the third world, being thrust into such a scene. It was for me, such a magical, and needless to say, unforgettable time. Thus my love affair with airports began.

I was blown away by this mega city. I love it that it is a place that effortlessly blends both old and new. Combining tradition with technology, and old school beliefs with a futuristic outlook towards everything. It is cosmopolitan in every sense of the word, but then it is also old world, the charm of its history highlighted more against shiny metal and glass towers as high as the eyes can see. You get it not just in some designated corner of the city (think Manila’s Binondo), but you feel this vibe in just about every place you go and visit.

Hong Kong under my camera's eye pales in comparison to actually being there experiencing the thrill yourself. Here's but a tiny fraction of the things I've seen.

Independence Day Run: First 15K.

2010-06-26T19:33:00.000-07:00

My first 15K run happened at the Independence Day Run, of course that was June 12, at the Fort organized by...I don't even know what group.

I registered because 1.) at 300 pesos, it was pretty cheap for 15K and 2.) I haven't run a race for quite some time. After successfully finishing, I just realized that I can do long distance runs, but REALLY long distance runs can be a little bit too much. After finishing the 10 km mark, I was just about ready to give up. My feet were burning, I was panting like a dog, and I swear my legs felt like they were numb. Yeah I can finish it alright, but do I really have to endure the torture of an extra 5? They say it's all in the mind. I say nah, it's in your feet (they take a life of their own, separate from the rest of your body while running) and how cooperative they decide to be on the day itself! I'm just glad I finished. Time was around 1:46:00.

And yeah, don't even get me started on how late the race started. Or how hot it was to run at around 7 in the morning sans sunscreen. That will get me writing a whole new entry.

Nature Valley Run 2010

2010-06-06T09:44:00.000-07:00

We waited for almost a month to run this race. It's the second leg of the RunRio Trilogy, and I ran my 4th 10K. With absolutely minimal training, and an allergic rhinitis attack the night prior to worry about, I wasn't able to beat my personal record of a little over 1 hour. I was huffing and puffing and felt my lungs were at their bursting point at the halfway mark. Luckily, I managed to to cross the finish line with only 2 minutes off my record at 1:02:05.

But then it's always fun to run for cause (a tree was planted for each runner who joined), with a whole bunch of friends to keep you company (new runners Aimee, Irish and Yong joined).

Next race will be a milestone for me. I will be running 15K at the Independence Day run on the 12th. It feels like it's the first time all over again.

NatGeo Earth Day Run 2010

2010-04-27T18:34:00.000-07:00

No matter what the naysayers say, I've had a lot of fun in this run. That is ironic because I wasn't supposed to be in it. I heard about the organizers extending the registration by several days after the advertised deadline so I decided to give it a go. So that early morning of April 11 I found myself at the starting line of the NatGeo Earth Day Run 2010 at the Mall of Asia Grounds for my 3rd 10K run.

There is plenty to like about this race.

First of all, it was organized by probably my favorite cable channel of all the cable channels out there; National Geographic. If there is only one channel left on my television, it has got to be this one. I was also a big big fan of the magazine when I was a kid. I remember my mom buying me subscriptions of it every year for several years. I eagerly waited for my copy every month, and will lock myself in my room to read and be amazed all afternoon. Needless to say I've quite a collection of copies at our house in Pampanga. My favorite thing about the magazine are the free maps that come along with most of the copies. The map of the universe flipped me out completely when I got it. The dinosaur distribution maps kept me fascinated for days. The map of Russia had me imagining how it was like to be on snow covered tundras and find undiscovered creatures. I painstakingly tried to preserve them by covering them with clear acetate, then each one carefully re-tucked into a huge zip lock bag. I treasured those magazines so much that I threw a crazy fit when my brother stupidly cut out a couple of really old ones for his school project. When I graduated from highschool and was asked by my mom what I wanted to take up in college, I told her unequivocally I wanted to be a Biologist and will specialize in Forestry. The issue about the destruction of the Amazon rainforest had that much impact on me. It took a lot of convincing from her end to make me change my mind eventually.

Needless to say I believe the cause too. It's fighting global warming and climate change. Although I doubt my run made the slightest impact in changing things around, I was just glad I was there to participate and make a statement. And the nice black shirt with the iconic National Geographic logo is something to smile about too!

It was also a great day with friends. Two friends, both new to running, decided to run their first race. Mayumi ran 5K and Ish ran 3K. They joined me, Chase, Nina, Tim and Marie and got hooked to sweating as we did. We welcomed them, and happy that they're doing it not only for the cause, but also because they wanted to quit smoking. Next run with all of the gang will be this coming May, the second leg of the RunRio Trilogy.

Finally, and definitely the one on top of my "like" list about this race, is that I managed beat my previous 10K time. It was a personal record. I am slowly inching my way to my target sub-hour 10K time.

Official Time: 1:00:17 (PR!!)

Seen Around the Metro: Japanese

2010-04-19T17:29:00.000-07:00

It's amazing how packaging could make ordinary grocery items look fascinating (at least to me). I was at a Japanese grocery one afternoon and I obviously went snap crazy taking random shots using my iPhone. It's actually becoming a habit of mine that I figured I might as well create a blog topic called...well...Seen Around the Metro. This is the first of a series of sets.

Mizuno Infinity Run 2010: My Thoughts

2010-04-17T04:26:00.000-07:00

I was able to beat my previous 10K time by a little over 5 minutes! The Mizuno Infinity Run 2010 was especially hard because we had to run against the steep incline of the Kalayaan fly-over twice (once from each end).

I'm not too crazy about this race though. First of all, it's the first race I joined without a timing chip, so it was kinda weird having to tear the barcoded piece of paper from the bib and hand it over to a lady shouting instructions at the end of the finish line. Not exactly the climax you would want after running this distance. I'm still pulling my hair out figuring how in the world were they able to track my time so accurately (to the second?). So that 5 minutes shaved off from my PR is a bit questionable if you ask me. I felt like I ran slower this race than at the Unilab Wellness Run, but my time is much much better here than my last. Secondly, I was kinda disappointed with the freebies given. Call me cheap, but aren't freebies something you also look forward to after a race? I mean who wouldn't want to be rewarded (no matter how ugly a bag or a finisher shirt turns out to be) after sweating and laboring that hard? We waited in line for a good 20 minutes to get an oversized finisher shirt and a tiny bottle of rubbing alcohol. And lastly, there weren't any photos available for download. So I am posting the only photo somebody (thanks Jamie!) took of me during the run. I guess I just got pampered too much on my previous runs (Century Tuna Superbods, Unilab Wellness), and it's a pity that all succeeding runs will be compared to how successful those organized runs were (well at least in terms of how the loot bag made me feel after the race!).

But then again, you get what you pay for as they say. At 400 pesos for 10K, I guess the only thing they could afford as a souvenir is a fleeting whiff of antiseptic in a bottle. At least everyone smelled fresh after the buckets of sweat.

MIZUNO RUN 2010

Global City Taguig, Metro Manila

April 11, 2010 * 5:30 AM

10K MALE RESULTS

Official Time: 1:01:03 Pace: 6:07

Isang Kwentong UP

2010-04-14T06:27:00.000-07:00

Isang araw na ala akong magawa sa bahay, bumalik ako sa mahal kong UP Diliman para bumisita't makaalala.

Sumakay ako ng dyip na madalas ko ding sakyan papasok ng campus dati. Umupo ako sa harapan, sa tabi ng driver, ang paborito kong pwesto para magmunimuni.

Pansin kong tuyo nga pala ang damo sa Sunken Garden ng Marso hanggang unang patak ng ulan ng Mayo. Naalala ko bigla ang ROTC, at ang mga kasama ko sa Charlie Infantry na hinimatay sa tindi ng init ng araw habang paulit ulit kaming nagmamartsa sa ibabaw ng maalikabok na damo. At pagpatak ng Agosto, ang combat boots naming bagong biton na isasabak lang sa putikan, at ang "rip-stop" na fatigue uniform na basa hanggang loob dahil sa buhos ng ulan.

Dumaan ako sa Main Library, at umupo sa Lib Steps na kelan lang e tambayan naming barkada kapag hapon (at madaling araw pag cramming ng exams). Pansin ko nawala na ang vendo machine ng kape sa tabi ng poste, na nagsilbing murang Starbucks sa madaming puyatan at kwentuhan sa liwanag ng gabi.

Pansin kong iba na din ang itsura ng side walk, brick na pula na ito na may pa-alon na berdeng semento sa gilid. Sa berdeng semento'y listahan ng pangalan ng nagambag para ito matapos.

At mga asul na paalala kung san dapat tumawid at sumakay. At san dapat lumakad at mag-bike.

May nagde-date padin sa paligid ng sunken. Mapa-babae't lalaki man...

...o parehong lalaki.

May bike rental na din pala ang campus. UP Padyak ata ang tawag (base sa nakasulat sa gulong ng bisekleta). Magandang ideya na may bicycle lane na din at istriktong pinapatupad. Kalahati ng kalsada ang hindi pwedeng daanan ng jeep. Nakakita ako ng dalawang freshie, may mga librong nakalagay sa basket sa harapan ng bisikleta. Natuwa ako sa kanila, at naisip na sana may ganito na din nung mga taong nasa campus pa ako.

Pero may mga bagay pa din na hindi nagbabago. Nagkalat pa din ang mga protesta laban kay Chancellor Roman...

...at kay Gloria. Hiring padin naman pala ang NPA!

Dilaw pa din at pareho ang ruta ng Ikot...

singkwenta sentimos padin ang Xerox sa SC...

may Spamsilog pa din ang Rodic's,

at lab equipment...

sa tapat ng antigeng Campus Pharmacy (cheap version namin ng Mercury Drug!).

Binalikan ko din ang mga lugar na espesyal sa akin. Ang Melchor Hall na naging haligi ng karunungan (at kalokohan) sa limang taon kong pamamalagi...

at makalumang laboratoryong pangkemika na mas matanda pa sa akin.

Ang Kalye Bernardo, kung san umikot ang mundo ko pagkagaling sa eskwela...

at Molave, kung saan ako unang natutong umibig.

Pero ang aking sadya, sa buong lakad na to...

...ay eto! Ang UP hoodie na malaGAP designed, pero di sing mahal. Nang makita ko palang sa katalog, sinabi kong hindi ko ito palalampasin. Kinabukasan din, sumakay ako ng dyip para bilhin.

At napangiti ng mabili't maisukat. Naalala ko bigla, nung estudyante pa ako, na hindi ko malamang kayang bilhin ang hoodie na itong presyo ng isang linggo kong allowance. Natuwa ako, dahil ngayon ay kaya ko nang iwaldas ang pera kong pinaghirapan para sa mga bagay na hindi naman importante pero gusto kong bilhin.

Sumakay ulit ako ng dyip pauwi. Papunta sa direksyon ng mall sa dulo ng MRT. Naisip kong bumalik paulit ulit para maka alala at gumawa pa ng mabababaw pero aliw na kwentong UP.

Of Faith and Renewal

2010-04-04T19:00:00.000-07:00

I used to pray a lot.

When I was a kid I used to pray the rosary each time before I sleep. I did it for fear of not waking up in the morning, but more so for fear that the devil may sneak in and possess my body while my soul takes a 10-hour stroll off to dreamland. I guess that’s what watching the Exorcist at such a young age does to you. It corrupts your young mind into believing that the devil himself can force you to defecate from your very mouth, and then make your head spin 360 then back. I used to also wear the scapular, so that when I die while wearing it my soul may bypass purgatory and go straight to where the light shines bright. I was a church choir member, my high-pitched, pre-pubescent voice echoing against the vast hall of our church every Sunday. And a figurine of the Blessed Virgin Mary stood looking to the sky from the head of my wooden bed. But most importantly, I believed it when my mom said she saw Jesus himself appear out of the flame of a candle they used during one of their many prayer meetings at church. It was all, to me, so magical but true.

I attended a private high school. A school owned by the Archdiocese of San Fernando. Although it’s a co-ed environment, we adhered to a strict Catholic regimen of prayers everyday during flag ceremony, then more before each and every class. Hearing mass on each first Friday of the month was absolutely required. Nobody from any other religious sect other than those from the grand old Catholic church were allowed to enroll (although I knew of one girl, Jhoanna was her name, who was a Born Again Christian). Our graduation was dedicated to the Virgin Mary first, our parents last. The school of course, owns the middle slot.

I went on believing that absolutely everything was answered when one believes hard enough and waits all too patiently after praying. I considered myself, by all accounts, quite religious (in a Catholic kind of way!).

Things happen in life that changes that belief for some of us. It happens in varying degrees, in different stages of our lives. Mine happened, as far as I can remember, back in college. It was when too much freedom consumed me that I started believing I can depend on myself alone. I was far away from home, too busy with my studies, too tired at the end of each day, too sexually aware (and confused), was with people who influenced me to feel the same way about faith as they do. I saw the world as an adult, unsheltered by the influence I’ve had when I was still living at home. I went from being a firm believer to a baffled questioner. I found reasons to ignore, and through constantly ignoring I decided to just slowly give in to apathy. It happened gradually for me, like termites eating away on good wood. And that constant, shifting gnaw is a struggle I go through till this day. It is sadly ironic, that the more a man knows about the world, the less he clings to the things he once held dear. Family becomes a cumbersome weekly trip back to the province. Old childhood neighbors become mere acquaintances. Religion becomes a frantic emergency call to the heavens when problems arise.

There are moments when I see glimpses of that boy I was before. In times when I get goose bumps as I listen to church music, or times when I’m moved by what a pastor or a priest talks about after a homily (which happens rarely now, as I now don’t regularly hear mass). These are the times when I remember the many good things I have to be thankful for and the many answered bargains I failed on my end to keep. The many times I called to Him for help and the many times He made me realize He was there to hear my pleas. But it’s also in these moments when I realize how far away I’ve changed from the boy I once was just several short years ago. Until now, as I write this, I am still trying to look for the reasons, and is still fighting an inner battle for justifications.

Today, I may not be as prayerful as before…

Because adulthood has shown me that prayers alone can’t magically put money in the bank. Or pay one’s mounting bills each month. Or get a quick meal on the table when hunger strikes. Or make me well without me visiting a doctor first. I’ve become too centered on the comforts I need and want to have. I cannot blame myself for choosing that, as I live independently with only myself to depend on.

I may not be praying the rosary everyday now, but still I know it’s better because I pray from the heart. I ask for guidance and grace when I need to, when my mortal capabilities fail me. And I never forget to thank Him when my prayers bear fruit. I may not be as prayerful as before, but I still have faith that God listens and hears. That will never ever change.

I may not be as dependent on miracles as before…

Because I realize I have to solve my problems first as a grown up man, using whatever potential given to me as a capable, thinking being. I can talk my way out of a crisis; I can use my hands to earn my keep. I can use my mind to think of ways to be better then act upon them with all the guts and moxie I’ve earned through my years. I’ve depended too much on myself and relied so heavily on what I know how to do. But in the cutthroat world called real life, is there any other way to live?

I may not be expecting that I’ll get what I want as soon as I want them, as miracles are often measured, but still I believe He will give me a break when I ask for it hard and wants it real bad. He will give it to me when the time is right, in His own time. Or if He does not, I know a reason is to be shown to me soon enough.

I may not even be a believer of my church anymore…

Because I saw that even prayerful priests can hide indescribable evil beneath white robes. And that a supposedly holy prince of the church, after probably praying about it too, decided to do nothing against such acts. After all the lies that have been exposed, and even more lies to cover them up, what words could the faithful trust and believe?

I may not be a believer of my church anymore, because I believe God intended His words to be individually discerned, not rammed through one’s throat by demagogues of organized religion. I certainly do appreciate a thoughtful sermon from a pastor, and I try my best to find the practicality of it in my life. As for the justification for the lies and the crimes, I can think of none.

I’m writing this during Easter, when all of Christendom renews their belief through grand and pompous rituals.

I sit in front of my laptop reflecting on the current state of my faith. I feel like I’m already doing my own little rite of renewal.

First 10K: Unilab Run United for Wellness 2010

2010-03-09T02:21:00.000-08:00

I thought I was gonna die! lol But I finished my first 10K in 1h:7m:13s (gun) / 1h:6m:32s (net).

Next target will be sub-hour on my next 10K run, which will be the Mizuno Infinity Run on April 11. Looking forward to it!

Finished It!

2010-02-21T16:20:00.000-08:00

I ran my first ever organized race yesterday at the Century Tuna Superbods Run, and according to the official race results I ran a pretty good race for a first time runner. Of the 1890 runners who joined the men's division, I was finisher 109. Official website results placed me at:

109 4333 159 MC 27 00:30:35 00:30:19 00:14:06

I might look back someday and think I made a hell of a big deal out of this result but then I also know I will not regret going loco over running. And of course everyone's first ever run will always be special so I guess I will have a good enough excuse then. So now I understand what the running bug is all about. That feeling of crossing the finish line for the first time, and thinking you could push yourself further to run farther the next time. So that's why people spend money to join these races, that's why people love the sweat and the heat and the uncomfortable feeling that comes from sore muscles and joints right after. It's the fantastic feeling of achievement one feels right after finishing that is worth more than any exorbitant registration fee. And I guess it's also that feeling of accomplishment that comes much too rarely in our adult lives that we crave and receive once we hear that beep at the finish line. It's something only someone who experienced it will ever get to describe. It's addicting. It's definitely special.

I've Been Busy and Sleepy

2010-02-11T21:37:00.000-08:00

I have not written anything to post lately, as I’ve been tied up to a mind-boggling amount of work that wouldn’t actually stop till the end of this month. Two weeks without anything to write about eerily reminds me of what happened to the previous journals I tried to keep up. I write, I procrastinate, get lazy and then totally forget about it. But then I promised myself that wouldn’t happen this time didn’t I? So just to keep this not so newfound hobby alive I will push the urge to doze off aside and gather my Mac on my lap to write something down. Then on a sleep-deprived state I will type away as if I do not have to wake up later for another long night at my desk. Help me sweet Jesus I pray I'd finish what I need to get done tonight.

So the last time I logged something here I was talking about expecting an interview. And it did happen. The HR people called and invited me for an early morning talk with one of the HR officers on site. I haven't seen him in months, as HR people normally work by day and staff employees like myself man the graveyard. He was a familiar face though, we've had a couple other conversations like these in the past and as always, it was a light, candid and a matter-of-fact gab. We were like two friends catching up on stories held off for months from being shared. And a scattering of questions that ranged from the expected "what made you decide to apply for the post?" to the borderline ridiculous "what if I tell you this job is a total mess?". And just like the old times we ended the 30-minute or so banter with an invitation to play tennis sometime soon. He said he will email me once he's got some free time to hit some balls, and the usual I will let you know what the schedule for the next step will be.

So there is that regarding my job, but another one that's been taking a significant chunk of my time and attention lately is running. I registered for the Century Tuna Superbods Run on the 21st and I am hoping I will be able to finish my first 5K that day. Hopefully it will be the start of more 5Ks and 10Ks and eventually the long and exhausting 21Ks. Who knows, injury aside I may even run a full marathon someday. Baby steps though. Slowly I will get there. But I don't run just because there is an event I want to join. I treat the event as something that gets me psyched up and keeps me waking up at 5 in the morning to go where my legs eventually starts warming up to roll into a steady, even, trancelike pace. And when the sweat starts breaking against the chilly morning breeze I know I am doing something I really really like. And I guess the events are markers toward the eventual goal too...which, to be honest with you, is just to prove to oneself more than anyone else that you can go the distance, in both kilometers and conquering what the mind often think is too tiring to even try.

I also bought myself a membership with a better gym to which I've been regularly going since the start of this month. The gym's pretty and huge, which admittedly got me all intimidated the first few sessions I was there. There was just too many good looking and well chiseled bodies in there, and a bunch of nice butts here and there that completes the scenario of a not-a-lot-of-workout-but-a-lot-of-ogling first few days. I am getting the hang of it though, in fact I'm getting used to admiring my hard biceps in front of the mirror without a care in the world what the newbies are saying about me. In two weeks time I've learned the art of narcissistic self-admiration.

And I've booked the first of my many trips this year. In June I will be with my travel buddy Marie to see what Macau and Hongkong has in store for us. Maybe try out a casino or visit the wax figures at Tussaud's. And we are planning more local and foreign trips as the year unfolds (and as CebuPac's promo fares keep coming).

So I think my year is looking pretty good so far. Barring any major kinks as I go along, I think this year is coming up roses. I am busy at work, I feel like I'm getting healthier and fit by the day and I am looking forward to career opportunities and personal travel. And hey, I'm even writing about them.

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On another note, I just got off the phone with my elder sister. The past few days I've been getting random calls in the middle of my sleep which eventually knocks me off my sleeping pattern making it difficult to get back on it. And just now this call from my sis. She gave me an earful alright. It's my niece's birthday today and she was expecting me there because I promised her I will be. You see, she rang me up yesterday, and the day before. Tired and sleepy as I was I said yes to her invitation thinking that today will be a Saturday. Saturday is no work day for me. So I could go to my mom's place, which is two hours of travel. Yesterday she kept on confirming if I'll attend, and I kept saying yes absent-mindedly. I even told her I'll help her set up for the party. So I understand her disappointment.

Really, nothing beats lack of sleep in disorienting the best of us. And just realizing it now, I don't even know what day of the month it is today without looking at my calendar. I'll just wait 'till I post this and see. And I think I really need to stop and get on with the z's.

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Lull Before the Storm

2010-01-29T12:21:00.000-08:00

It's been a slow couple of days at work. I'm still waiting for the result of the internal review that's currently being done to the stuff I managed to put together. I'm sure there will be an email popping up on my Inbox anytime soon asking me to dive back in to work and start the process of revising and/or redoing. That's a pretty standard procedure in what I do. And I'm anticipating the additional load will be heavy if not outright messy.

I also decided to put myself out there for career advancement within the company. I've been working here for almost five years now (March 25 will be my fifth year) and I've been promoted once two years ago, to the position I currently hold. I've already grown a lot as an employee, and learned immensely from the responsibilities I've been lucky enough to have been given. To add to this, I'm getting too familiar with what I do that I'm starting to get bored. And I feel like I'm stagnating. So I thought it's about time to shake things up a bit and start moving forward. I guess it's just the normal progression of anything that pertains to anyone's career. One just needs to forge ahead and move forward for growth.

And I told my boss about it a while ago, and she pretty much summed up how she feels about my decision with these words: "I will always wish you the best. But then too, I will always wish that you don’t get it so I can continue working with you."

Knowing my boss, it's her way of saying yes haha. We've always had a very good working relationship, and if EVER I get this gig, I will be heartbroken to leave her team. But then that's looking too far out ahead isn't it? I'm not even sure I'll get this. I'm sure the competition's gonna be tough. But there's really nothing to lose if I try. I guess pretending I'll get it is just my way of psyching myself up.

So I'm anticipating a whirlwind of stressful interviews plus work-induced stress in the coming days. But right now it's all quiet in the battle front, and I'm trying to enjoy it as much as I possibly can. We all deserve a momentary respite from the daily grind don't we? We all want a lull before (or even during) the storm.

Keep on Running

2010-01-27T18:11:00.000-08:00

It's been a busy couple of weeks at work. And just when I thought it was about to ease, they decided to throw more stuff our way. It’s the kind of grind that finds me comfortably seated in front of two monitors all night, air-conditioning on full blast, sipping coffee once in a while, but leaves me utterly exhausted at the end of my day. I barely have time for a decent meal, and if I choose to have one, I take it out of a fastfood joint and eat it quickly in front of my monitors.

These monitors...two flat widescreen 19-inchers, side by side whizzing on a 4GB RAM with a Core 2 duo soul become my window to anything and everything I'm working on nightly. It's a breeze to work on one of these, opening up multiple software without the hassle of it ever bogging down. All I actually need to worry about is stretching my legs too far out under my desk and accidentally unplugging the darn thing from the power socket. Because then, if I am unlucky, hours worth of work will go kapoof if I'm not attentive enough in hitting save before it does it on auto.

Now I am not complaining. I know a lot of people who work twice as hard and are infinitely more stressed than I am now. I happen to think I got it easy (at least relative to those people I mentioned). I'm on perpetual flexi-schedule and can work on projects on my own pace. No boss at the office to physically badger me as deadlines approach. On the contrary, her being located in the States makes it easy for someone like me who thrives on minimal supervision to work and finish the job. And make no mistake about it; my boss is a joy to work with, which probably explains why I’m still with the same company after 5 long years of working for it.

But then the past two weeks have been different. I feel more stressed out than I’ve ever been and it dawned on me that it’s only just beginning. Coupled with the fact that I feel the itch to find other fields of opportunity makes working lately such a toxic undertaking. I'm used to being busy, and I do take opportunities seriously. But sometimes too much of a good (if I may call them that) thing has the opposite effect on one’s reasoning. My brother has been chatting me from abroad telling me to send my CV to him so I could try it out over there. That of course got me thinking of the many possibilities, mostly the good ones. But also all sorts of things that lead to a chain-reaction of what-ifs and what-abouts. Clearly, when one is swamped with work like me lately, it’s not a good idea to even entertain the thought of just giving up. It’s better to just leave mental multitasking behind and plow through what is at hand and do a good job at it. Which may sound ironic, but one that also makes a lot of sense. For how can someone divide one’s mind to two important but competing halves and expect to come out of it unstressed and feeling fine?

So in an effort to just get away from it all, I left work early today for a quick run. I just went scrambling to the nearest exit and left. I practically split and "ran away" from it all so to speak. Surprisingly, I found that it was just what I needed to take my mind away from all the drama and stress that was building up. It also gave me a fresh clean jolt on an otherwise mediocre day. And as an added bonus, the reddish sunrise earlier was spectacular on the horizon. It made me appreciate a simple pleasure that can't be viewed from my two fancy office screens.

I thank my twitter friends @justkakers and @outednarnian for getting me all psyched up to start and to pick up the hobby. Not only do I feel that my lungs are stronger, now I know I have something to “run” to when I feel I’m being eaten up from the inside by my own internal storms.

Photo Set 2: Sunlight

2010-01-24T05:35:00.000-08:00

One of the many things I look forward to when I hit the beach is the sunlight bursting into many beautiful colors as it dips and rises on the horizon. There is just something magical about each moment.

Sunrise/sunset photos I took using a Canon Powershot SD850 point and shoot cam.

Anawangin, Bantayan, Panglao.

Remembering Dad

2010-01-20T03:38:00.000-08:00

It’s all almost forgotten now.

Except in random moments when I remember those vivid memories of violent fights, and the long and tense waits for him to come back home. And when he was home, the endless anticipation that something terrible was about to happen.

I can’t even recall the exact date anymore, but it was 1997 when it all started happening. My sister and I were watching a local show on TV, when all of a sudden I heard someone screaming. I’ve never heard anything like it before. A wretched sound of anger, pain and undeniable heartbreak delivered in a familiar voice. We rushed to my parents’ room, and we saw them there. My mom was on the bed crying, my dad desperately trying to restrain her. It was her voice we heard. Between angry screams she was hugging and kissing him, telling him he was the only man she had ever loved. She was uttering incomprehensible questions, random thoughts coming out of her asking how and why everything came to be. I remember being frightened and confused; I thought my mom had gone crazy.

And everything was never the same soon after. The moment she saw us by the door, my mom’s face turned into a template of rage…and mom told us the entire, hurtful truth. Dad was having an affair with one of his office subordinates. A woman my mom considered to be a friend.

I couldn’t help but be angry with him. It is human nature I guess, more so if it’s your mom, to sympathize and pity the one scorned. If not only for my weekly allowance I didn’t want to go back home, because then I’ll see him and I’d hear them fighting. And yes, I was angry for a long time for something I couldn’t fully understand. All I know was that my mom was betrayed, and by extension, we children were betrayed too. I faintly remember the reason he gave mom that day, amidst teary and furious attempts to get across an “I am so sorry!” plea; that he is only human and that made him weak. I remember wanting to punch him, and to tell him that I heard that too many other times on TV. I remember the following years that the house was hell for everybody.

He died in 2001. A massive stroke took his life on the kitchen floor. The irony of it all was that he just came back from an overnight stay at a hospital taking care of my mom. Her sciatic nerve was pushing against a slipped disk that left her unable to walk due to constant pain. Dad went home to take a quick shower and cook a decent meal for her, hoping that would ease the pain off her back. No adult was in the house that day to help him, more so to rush him to the hospital. I was away (or was trying to stay away) studying. My elder sister was abroad. Only Levi, my little brother, was there to witness him pass away. The shock left him sleepless for nights soon after. He couldn’t talk for days.

I’m writing this as a son who remembers a parent, for he was nothing short of a great father before poisonous hatred consumed us all. He was a role model before he stumbled. He provided for us, going as far as swallowing his pride and driving his jeep (which doubled as his private ride to work) every afternoon, after a tiring day at work, to earn some extra cash. Not surprisingly every week when I come home I have money to spend for my studies in the city. With a big smile on his face he would hand the money to me. Yes I heard them complain how difficult life was for a police officer with a family to feed, but he never overlooked to provide for my studies. He didn’t have much in his pockets but he didn’t want to fail in that regard.

I’m writing to remember how extremely proud of the fact he was that a son in UP was on his way to become an engineer. He said I’d be the first one among his clan. He never stopped bragging about it during his inuman sessions at home, embarrassing me by making me stand in front of his friends to prove it’s not just alcohol fueling his pride. And to add to it, he shows them my multitude of certificates and medals he painstakingly framed and arranged by our living room wall. They were right beside his military merit medals. His hard-earned Medal of Valor right beside my cheap academic gold. It was our “honor wall” as he called it, the only missing piece was the diploma I’d get after college.

I’m writing this because I dream of him sometimes when I sleep; waking up racked with guilt realizing how much I miss him. And because I envy those who still have a father to repay their life debt to.

Now I can only long for moments when I am buying him gifts for special occasions, or taking him out for lunch to expensive restaurants just to have a quiet father and son talk.

Now I can only wish to send him and mom to fancy places, setting them up for many romantic dates they never had a chance to have. They could never have afforded it with four other mouths to feed.

Or just on moments of daydreaming, can now only imagine the smile and pride on his face because among his clan I am now the only engineer.

And sadly, now I can only pine for a talk with him about life, asking him for opinions about decisions I need to make knowing his will be the one strong voice among a sea of many.

I never got the chance to do any of those. I didn’t even had the chance to properly forgive. I hated without understanding. I was harsh with my judgement of him. All I see now are the memories of the day we sent him away. The 21-gun salute, the huge Philippine flag in half-mast, the entire camp where we live shutting down to see his funeral march, and the bus loads of friends and admirers who made his funeral something like that of a movie star.

One only realizes the value of another when it’s already too late, but then I also know that regretting endlessly is useless.

I know I owe him an apology for making him feel worthless as a dad during those difficult times…I was in pain too.

I am sorry for the time he cried his heart out to my sister’s ex-boyfriend because I was ignoring him when I’m home for my weekend visits from school…I didn’t think he’d notice.

And for all its worth I want to tell him that I’m proud to be his son. And I’m forever thankful for the many memorable, beautiful, lesson-filled days he spent with his children…I never got to tell him all of these when he was still alive.

Today is my dad’s birthday. He would’ve been a ripe 60 years. I could’ve thrown an inuman party for him, and would’ve willingly stood up in front of his friends so he can brag about me all afternoon.

But then all I can whisper to him now is that I understand and I already forgave. And all I can offer him is one tight imaginary happy birthday hug wherever he may be. And a heartfelt greeting that says:

Happy Birthday papa, I love you.

Everyone matures and all things fall into place. Confusion eases. Realizations take over. Forgiveness sets in. And all wounds heal no matter how painful.

Photo Set 1: Morning Dew

2010-01-18T11:34:00.000-08:00

I like capturing images using my 8 megapixel Canon point and shoot camera. I particularly like Canon’s digital macro feature. I do not have a dSLR, and I’m no expert photographer either. That doesn’t stop me from taking good photos if I see a moment.

Early morning at my mom’s backyard garden becomes a world on its own. It’s a treasure trove of subjects. The morning dew on a gabi leaf takes on a beautiful new form once lit by the sun. I was there to capture these:

A Little Investigation

2010-01-15T20:52:00.000-08:00

I was watching it unfold, a homoerotic scene playing out before my eyes. In a room that size, it wasn’t really hard to see. And with instincts like mine it wasn’t really difficult to know. It didn’t help them that huge mirrors line every wall, and where mirrors weren’t present big glass windows line up in panes. So when I turn my back towards them I still see. When I turn to my side, the reflection of them distracts me. The two were dripping sweat; straining muscles gleaming under wet skin. One was wearing blue while the other chose a tone in black; both sporting similar white shirts exposing two hairy pits. The outfits to me seem too contrived.

I didn’t want to speculate. Based on their looks they didn’t appear to be “different”. More so intimates. No, they just don’t fit the “mold”. Dark rough skin, greasy hair not styled flashy. Dry smoker lips, untrimmed goatee. I was betting they were drinking buddies trying to lose the tummy, or something else just to keep my curious mind at bay. They were kinda dirty. Looked stinky. Two long, tall frames. To wandering eyes, they looked pretty normal, nothing special there to merit a head to turn. Or win little glances here and there.

And those shoes… oh, those shoes they’ll make closeted fairies throw a fit!

But then their bustle made me wonder, my sleazy mind lunging into overdrive. Malicious streak made me stop for a curious fact-finding.

The spectacle: One guy lifts the EZ weight up, biceps curling, him cringing in pain, as the other one spots and gamely goes through the count. Each of them gazing the other’s eyes with faces barely a foot apart. In your face words of encouragement. Perfect scene straight out of a homo soap opera, only thing is, it was happening right there where I was. Then it was the other’s turn to pump, same routine cooked up, but this time their hands grazing, touching each other’s on the bar. They went at it several times, breaking from it only with a smattering of mutual arm homage. Flexing, contracting, touching, giggling, admiring, praising. There was something obviously going on.

Still I didn’t want to conclude. I was playing the devils advocate with myself.

Until I went reaching for the dumbbells, where they were lifting heavy load beside the dumbbell stack. Grunting, heaving, sighing, moaning, cursing. Their voices booming as they went through the downs and ups.

But on the last vein busting rep, just when the lifter in blue was struggling at about three-quarters up, I heard a soft, hesitant whimper the spotter’s lips betrayed him to blurt out. It was the clincher:

“Kaya mo yan, baby!”

It was my confirmation. With my curiosity satisfied, and with a funny grin 0n my face, I ended my investigation. It was all I needed to know.

Shifting Paradigms

2010-01-12T00:31:00.000-08:00

It was after arriving from a short stint in Europe when I decided to follow this road. I never really expected to stay this long in the business; I after all, earned a license to practice engineering. But I will not place blame on naiveté, for I was then fully aware of what I was about do. I went home to a country that at that instant suddenly felt new, looking to thrust myself into any work that will sustain my unseasoned independence (and sustain me financially more so). And she was there for the taking, teasing me to suckle from her rich, fat bosom. That was when I took a leap of faith, on that decisive day in late August 2003. It was the moment I shifted paradigm.

I remember a class I took back in my days in Diliman, when an old professor lectured on a topic he wrote a book about. The book, I heard, didn’t sell very well, because most of us novices back then simply could not wrap our heads around what in the world the idea was about. Now he was not the most articulate of my previous professors, neither was his faltering age any help in arousing interest in class. And being the unconventional topic that it was, he was then, as evidenced by a whole lot of yawns and aimless scribbling, not preaching to the choir.

But in a merry twist of irony, of all the lessons I’ve heard in UP his was the one that got stuck in my head.

Because on that day he did not talk endlessly about an exhaustive calculation in Thermodynamics, but rather strangely, on the value of doing what’s best for one's career based NOT on one's chosen field of study.

Back then it sounded frustratingly odd to me, that a guy who earnestly toiled for a chemical engineering PhD would talk about pragmatism and practicality. After all, spending loads of money attending school for a three-letter title at the end of one's name, just to end up teaching at a public University, wasn't my idea of being thrifty. And just to emphasize his point that day, albeit I thought it was a subliminal sales ploy, he brandished his book around like a badge. He proudly called it “Shifting Paradigms”. (He didn’t claim the concept to be his, as there were other literatures written about the same. But he applied it to our life as engineers and it took on a whole different meaning.)

{ Paradigm: a philosophical or theoretical framework of any kind .}

And now I realize why the message adhered, for I took life’s offer of a practical road. I look at myself now and realize I am living the life my professor had spoken of that day. And it's a life I’m sure a lot inside that huge auditorium is now living as well. (I know this for sure, I have many friends who followed the same path I took!)

And as I glimpse back, I’m thinking, that my life and all the rest who subscribed to the same archetype, is proving my professor a sage. Or to do him more justice, is proving his was a profession that truly fits him to a tee. That his own passion for teaching truly was his calling and it was a paradigm he got right.

I do not take that moment with the professor as the one justification for where I ended up; there's always a battery of reasons. Nor is it a defense against those who wish to opine on the contrary; there are still many who view tradition as the norm. And although I am fine where I am in the scheme of careers (and financial compensation), in this fickle and unpredictable industry, even I honestly sometimes doubt if the path I took will do me any future good.

But then, don’t we all, in our accepted and chosen paradigms, in this world of ever shifting priorities, feel the same way sometimes too? That all we can do is to forge on and expect more paradigms to shift, and like my old professor, hope to find the one to get right too.

Home

2010-01-12T00:13:00.000-08:00

Woke up to the sound of birds chirping. Pandesal man doing his rounds. Coffee aroma and breakfast sizzling on a pan. Cool fog, leaves moist to dry before the rising sun. I realize I'm lucky to have a place like this to always go back to. To recharge me, keep me grounded, to remind me who I am.

And I am blessed to have a family making this place a home. Going back to the City in a few. But this place will always tug my heart towards it asking me to be warm in her comfort and just be the person I was before the busy, hurried life I chose. There is no place like home indeed!

Connectedness

2010-01-06T15:20:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting here, six forty three at night inside a room filled with things we gathered from years of acquiring. But for my dog scratching in front of the fan, and my cat laying spread eagle like a babe on the floor, only Mayer singing gives the room some semblance of a pulse. I can’t help but start typing away aimlessly using the computer on my lap, trying to snare a perfect moment for some good old emo goo. Trust these disturbed moments of emotional imbalance to churn out written musings you’ll re-read and be ashamed of later on. But then again everyone is a little sick enough to do it, so here’s one for the books. Or should I say, for this blog.

So I’ve been wondering about what makes two people “connect”. What makes two separate individuals click in a way that they share their lives as one. This must be a totally inane thought to even write about for some, but then a series of events the past few weeks (which needless to say involves matters of the heart), got me itching for a post. Now I’m no Dr. Phil, neither am I a writer claiming to have that kind expertise. But I know we’ve all, in the course of our adult lives, got at least a singular moment in time when we met somebody interesting, got to know them and got interested, got to know you as interesting too, and the rest, as they say, became your history. While some people start out as individuals afraid to even meet up (lest they be judged on the insecurities that most of the time only they themselves care about and see), others are blessed with brave souls, who at a moment’s notice will go out of their way to randomly show themselves up to characters they barely even know. And of course others, as predictable as a cry is to come out from a hungry baby, would end up being together; dating, living in, promising each other the world and eventually settling down.

The past year had not been kind to a lot of my friends in this regard. To be pretty straightforward about it, a lot of the coupling that had endured many trying years fell apart from a diverse set of reasons. The bottomline in a majority of them, at least as far as I see it, is that one of them found somebody else they apparently have a connection with. Or in cases where another party was not involved, the connection eventually fell apart somewhere along the journey, and somebody needed a fresh start. It is universal at the start of any relationship that there has to be an apparent connection, some sort of binding motion that glues two people to unite, without which any union would not last.

The word “connection” in itself is a tough word to explain. In a world where anything to be believed has to be founded on something visibly measureable, that word simply doesn’t hold any truth. How can something as ambiguous and as deep as an emotion of connectedness be ever carved in words? Then double that, given there are two people involved, and you’ll probably get my point! Now, I will not be the one to judge or explain what in my friends’ point of view the word could actually mean. Neither will I narrate stories that are not mine to tell. But I will, as a matter of personal opinion, express a view entirely borne out of my limited experiences.

I’ve had relationships in the past, and right now is on my third (and longest at 6 years). The first one happened when I was at an age of “exploration”, just when I was about to be welcomed by the world outside the academe. I was totally inexperienced in matters of the sexual kind, much less to the degree and sort that my heart chose to follow. But then I thought a connection was there at the start, and I thought it was true, and I casted a die to believe it. It was something I felt to be real that I was willing to give myself up for many fleeting moments of carnal bliss. The feeling was intense, maddeningly raw, and physical. It was after all my first taste. But then folly unclenched its grip and reality anointed it as something that wasn’t meant to be. A couple of weeks into it I realized there was simply nothing there aside from the pleasure that was to be gained. It was an early wake up call for both of us involved.

Lesson Number One: Be careful not to fall into a trap of thinking that a connection is an impulse. That it suddenly appears wondrously out of the blue. It is, as always the case, not only solely an attraction but a product of many long, complex conversations.

The second one I thought I had made a connection with was then with kids. In spite of this we connected mentally as we belong to a level of acumen not a lot could even begin to understand. We talked. We fought. We shared ideas. We worked together. We sacrificed and braved many things and earned each other’s respect along the way. We fed on each other’s presence, each playing our distinct roles; one is seasoned and mentally ripe, the other vibrant and excited for life. Both of us tried to keep our connection alive. But alas there were issues insurmountable that poured water over our kindling fire. And again, as in the case of the first, the connection could only go so far. I learned so much from the experience I thought my mind and my life went on fast forward, although it lasted a mere year and a half.

Lesson Number Two: It’s naïve, I dare say even utterly stupid, to think you can connect completely and wholly with someone who’s got a child. It will always be a source of friction, of jealousy, of envy and eventual hate. No one can ever compete with a parent’s connection with his or her child. It is the ultimate of all connections that nobody can break. It is a bond much richer and intimately more powerful than anyone else can ever wish to provide. It is irreplaceable. It is pure, borne out of a single piece of flesh. No need for explanation here. It is simply the click of all clicks.

And the current connection I have is one that is the longest. A story that has been going on for almost six years, and still, is being told: a dizzying, confusing mix of highs and lows. As I look back to capture a singular shining instance, I suddenly realize our connection is the most difficult to put into words. For how do you abridge a six-year-old song into a single paragraph? How can I begin to explain a connection that grew on us rather than being there in the beginning (when the word “connection” alone took me two pages to expound)? How can I draw a single lesson when there’s a gamut, both good and bad? And how do I stop and take stock of everything when I see around me too many evidence of a life intertwined?

We all meet people throughout our lives who we think can complete our longing for connectedness. Some people come to us randomly, scattered within our life pages like all the periods and commas of this winding entry. Some are merely forgettable, some become lasting friends, while some we consider close to our heart. But only a rare select few touches us in ways we cannot even start to understand. We give ourselves to them, without a care about the consequences and the repercussions and always mindful that the special bond keeps us justified. But most of all, they remind us we’re alive…that our hearts are capable of skipping a beat and our minds can rest among the clouds.

And from these rare few we find our own little meaning of connectedness, for lesson number three makes it amply clear that the word is something to be experienced rather than defined.

Some Mayer Lovin..

2010-01-04T07:05:00.000-08:00

"I will beg my way into your garden
I will break my way out when it rains
Just to get back to the place where I started
So I can want you back all over again"

He is insanely good. I heart Mayer!

Inday

2010-01-04T00:16:00.000-08:00

She came to us on a hot summer afternoon. With a few old clothes and not much belongings in tow, she arrived at the Makati apartment I was renting. She was with my aunt who, in some fateful stroke of good luck, found her seeking employment. And immediately after she arrived, she was eager to impress. And I thought, wow, after the horribly lazy househelp I had prior, this is uncharted territory. But my inner devil told me not to openly show affection just yet, only the stoic, no fuss TianTian to show her who's the boss.

Deep inside though, my heart was breaking for this girl, who at 21, doesn't seem like she's used to working hard. She could have had an entirely different life. But instead she had no choice but to clean somebody else's house and wash someone else's dishes. The worst part, and I know you "promdis" would agree, was being uprooted from her comfort zone out in the quiet countryside and be thrust into the chaotic world called the metro.

It's incredible what these gals have to go through before they decide to take the plunge.

The first one I employed had 3 kids, and got booted out of her previous employ when the house owner decided to move. Her name was Ruth, a stocky, somewhat middle-aged lady who loved to sit by the front door and pretty herself up using a hair brush and a compact make up mirror. She was tall and dark, and her big frame and booming voice gave her a sort of mother like quality. My friend and I used to make fun of her privately, using her Visayan accent as a backdrop of never ending impersonations.

She was a character that one, so much so that she was able to convince us to go on 4 AM trips to the buzzing (and dirty) Balintawak wet market to buy our provisions every fortnight. Of course we had to ride a cab going there, and we always end up spending more than what we intended to spare because of that. One day she asked for a "bale". For the uninitiated that terms means a payment advance. She went on her usual litany of marital problems, throwing invectives towards her "inutil" husband in for good measure. And for added effect, she added in what seems to me back then was a valid excuse to get me scrambling for my wallet to give her what she wants. She unloaded the "my-child-is-sick-and-is-in-the-hospital" heavy ammo. Now I am inexperienced in family affairs, and I usually am a sucker for melodrama and gossip, so I was the perfect victim. I guess no one really prepares you for something like that. She threw in the kitchen sink at me and I, well, basically cried me a river. And the several days off the job I gave her to take care of her child became a week. Then weeks. Then several weeks. Until, let's just say she pretty much pushed me to find her a replacement.

And the replacement that landed my way was the legendary (at least in my point of view) Kristina. I should have known better than give her the nickname Krizzy, coz that’s how she turned out to be…kuh-reey-zee! Oh and her story’s one for the books too! At 15 years of age she was supposed to be destined for prostitution at the infamous Fields Avenue in Angeles City. Her dad left her mom, and her mom turned to drugs and went to Manila to get knocked up once more by a loser living in, of all errr places, a “kariton”. Krizzy was living with her grandfather who’s an alcoholic, and a household that included a bunch of uncles and male cousins. She was the only female inside an impoverished household…a perfect recipe for familial indiscretion. The clincher was that she’s out of school, without money and desperate to find a source of sustenance. Her only way out of the hostile environment she was in was the even more hostile world of Fields. She was planning to be a prostitute.

So I heard enough, and told my friend I’ll employ her to help inside my house (and to save her from a cruel life!). I knew she was under aged, but then I thought my unkempt house is a much safer place for a teenage girl than the whorehouses filled with old sweaty pigs wanting a piece fresh flesh. I got her travelling to my apartment from Angeles the following week, and boy, was I surprised with what I saw. I knew she was 15, but there I was with my mouth open asking myself what I’ve gotten myself into: She was but a child! And to be perfectly honest, I was even afraid the social welfare people might find out.

For the almost three years she that was with us, she was a handful to maintain. Well, more than a handful sometimes. She doesn’t really know much about house work unlike Ruth. We were constantly in a “mentor’s mode” when she works, reminding her to clean this, to cook that, even to throw spoilt food festering inside the fridge. There were moments when I commend her for a job well done and times when I reward her by taking her to eat at fancy restaurants or a nice little trip to the movies (this gets her all excited and perky!). The ultimate reward was to send her to school without taking a penny from what I pay her every month. And mind you, I paid her what a household help taking care of an entire family gets paid.

But things started to get sour when, in a fit of adolescent fervor, she started bringing her newfound “barkada” home. One time she cooked an entire half month’s worth of LuckyMe Pancit Canton we got from a recent grocery shopping for her visiting “friends”. To my horror when I woke up that day I saw them munching on the goodies at the living room, without regard to me asking where the hell my dinner for the night was. Krizzy apparently “forgot” to cook anything for me. And then she started disappearing at night, arriving home drunk from all night shenanigans. So one day, waking up the middle of the night thirsty, my housemate went down to the kitchen for a drink. The living room was a mess, so he went to wake Krizzy up. She was covered from head to toe with a blanket, not a single strand from her long hair peeking out of the sheath. Lo and behold, “she” turned out to be “the pillows”, piled up under the blankets to hide the disappearing act we so loathe her doing. And that night, after all the antics that piled up from the months prior, we decided to let her go.

Several months passed without a house help, the maintenance of a home with three dogs and a cat suddenly became too much to bear. It didn’t help I work at night, asleep during the day when cleaning and other chores were supposed to be done. The need for dedicated hands to maintain the house became paramount. I turned to my trusty old Aunt for a much needed “find-me-a-househelp” recommendation. She did not disappoint.

A couple of years ago, on that hot summer day, Janice came to us from the dusty fields of Tarlac. She almost always keeps to herself unlike Krizzy, who can talk ad nauseam. Janice was shy and still is, and would rarely speak more than two sentences when asked something. In fact, I haven’t even had a lengthy conversation with her ever since I took her in. I realize now that don’t even know her middle name! In terms of her job though, she beats the competition hands down! She established a daily grind that is so effortless she can afford to sleep from 1 PM till she wakes up the following day to do the same routine over. She knows her job like an expert majorette knows her baton! And I’m so genuinely happy with her I gave her a raise, 13th month pay and will be sending her to college this June (barring any unforeseen events after this entry). She deserves all of it.

And so the seemingly stoic TianTian she first met is in front of the computer right now, inside a room with clean floors and a freshly tucked bed. She knows I’m happy, and not as aloof as I wanted her to believe. I opened my closet full of neatly folded clothes that smells of fresh Downy to get a shirt. The smell reminded me that there is someone in the other room doing this and other small important things for me day in and out. Things I often take for granted, but hers to own as a job she needs to do. And I told myself, well, I think that in itself deserves a blog entry!

Cheers to my Janice and to others like her!

Debi

2010-01-02T21:08:00.000-08:00

Cute and fat Debi always visits me when it's time to wake up. She never fails. She'll either lick my face or lay beside me in bed begging to be scratched. And with a face like this how could I ever resist?

Wake up time is one hell of a cute overload time!

Hooked!

2010-01-02T20:17:00.000-08:00

I'm no gadget freak, but this phone knocks the ball way way way out of the proverbial park. I love my iPhone 3Gs to bits!

Perpetual Caution

2010-01-02T02:34:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of reminiscing I decided to revisit old stuff I wrote.

First one on my Facebook page late last year:

And a second entry from my Multiply site in early 2006:

They pretty much sum up how I mentally process and do things: with perpetual caution.

Life is Good

2010-01-02T01:39:00.000-08:00

Someone once said that you stop living life once you lose your sense of wonder. And that enjoying it means simply living in the moment. No need for fancy, expensive things (though I don't mind 'em!). Just taking pleasure in tiny little events as if everything in it enriches and adds to your person.

Taking stock of what I have distills everything to this bottomline: I have great friends. I have a good job. I have a wonderful family. And I can afford life's simple pleasures. I've had my share of wonderful moments from the previous year; good ones that sustained me, and bad ones I learned life lessons from.

As it is the time of the year when people look back on the "what was" and the "what-could've-beens", I realize that all of my experiences are actually really worth writing about. That if I were to truly live in the moment, I won't run out of things to write. The "sense of wonder" will always be there. And that there will be so much more appreciation for life. It will actually be so much more fun!

So on this note, just when the year 2009 has finally ended, and when everything in the year 2010 is just about to unfold, I start building my blog by reminiscing on the small wonders I've had in the year that was. I will let the pictures try to tell the story of a life that's good!!

It Starts Right Now

2010-01-02T00:35:00.000-08:00

And so after a while of blog inactivity, I am again starting another blog. Another year had just begun, and I thought what better way to mark that milestone than to write about random ramblings from this period moving forward.

I've been in this same situation before.I start a blog, write for a while, then procrastinate a little,'till it all grinds to a stop. It has always been the life cycle of my blogs. I know I can write decent stuff, but I also know I’m too darn lazy to ever do it consistently. I’ve never actually maintained something as substantial as a whole year’s worth of writing. I guess it's always gonna be the easiest step isn’t it..starting it? But actually maintaining it and writing something worth the read will always be the challenge. But I will try. This time I will really try. So pardon me for I sometimes write a little bit angst-sy, a little bit sad. I’ve never actually been known for my humor anyway.

I am three decades old in a year that had just been born, promising to himself he will try to write. Just for the heck of it he will try, and see if anything comes out of it this time. Anything worth a few minutes in front of my computer to write about goes here.

It starts right about now.