Taglish, Tagnish and Bitlog

Today is the Philippines' 108th Independence Day. Mabuhay! HA HA HA!

Logically, June 12 should never be celebrated as the official independence day since we were still colonised by the US after that mock battle between them and Spain. People blame former President Diosdado Macapagal and his stupidity for changing July 4 to June 12. Today should be the celebration of our 108th first independence. But it sounds so confusing so we better forget of commemorating our independence today. Neither should our freedom be on July 4 since until now, we are still not independent. It is a fact that the US is still controlling us and their leader is holding our president's nose, or head, or whatever part of her body. And then June 12, 1898, the time when Emilio Aguinaldo first waived the Philippine flag in Kawit, Cavite, would just be nothing but a date.

But what if until now, we are still a colony of Spain? My foolish brain started to load lots of stupid ideas again.

• We wouldn't be speaking English. Lispers and people with thick R's would have a lot of advantage.
  
• Callcenters would still exist but we would be supporting the Latin queue. I wouldn't be giving my spiel "Pardon señor pero no puedo hablar Español muy bien....". Instead, I would speak a lot faster than how I speak today.
  
• Our candidates in beauty pageants would look and sound stupid during question and answer portion as they would hire interpreters.
  
• Famous Mexican soap operas like Marimar and Rosalinda wouldn't need to be dubbed. Instead, Sarah Jessica Parker and the rest of the girls, Jennifer Garner and William Petersen would be speaking in Spanish. I wouldn't be including 24 here as it was already brutally dubbed in Tagalog.
  
• There would be more mestizas. But their number is directly proportional to the population of stupid people. The population of "pokers" would also be more than 10 times than today with ages ranging from 5 to positive infinity.
  
• Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo would still be illegal. Anybody caught reading it will be ex-communicated or even sentenced to die in the garote.
  
• Jose Rizal would just be a name. People like me who hate to memorise and talk about people who practically don't know me would love it. There will be no such subject as "Life, Works and Writings of Rizal."
  
• Philippine History books would keep on praising the Spaniards from the introduction to the back cover, that is, if a book about our country would be allowed to be printed.
  
• Polo y servicio would still be widely practiced, so is the encomienda system.
  
• Calesa would still be our means of transportation. Wow! Ma'am Banaag's class wouldn't be wishing for the calesa anymore.
  
• If there would be a fourth world country, Philippines would be part of it.
  
  and to top it all,
  
  
• I would either be an insular (a Spanish born outside mainland Spain) or a mestizo. I wouldn't allow myself to be classed as indio. I wouldn't pass as part of the peninsulares either.

It just crossed my mind. Actually, it is Weng's idea. I just ellaborated it.

Oh and I almost forgot. We wouldn't be speaking Taglish. It'll be Tagnish!

-o0o-

Speaking of Taglish, I've heard somebody speaking in spontaneous Taglish (huh!?) the other week. I want to stone her to death. She doesn't look cute. In fact, she's a real and living version of one of the characters in Pugad Baboy.

I admit I also speak in Taglish sometimes especially if I don't know the Tagalog equivalent of an English word (I am a proud Bisaya). There are also cases when things have to be tagalogised to relate to the masses. Like fumashion, nag-take home. (Hahaha! I just remember our critic in our high school Filipino publication who would force to tagalogise a strictly English word such as luk-alayk, websayt, and kompyuter among so many others. Now my co-Ang Narra stapers would laugh out loud with me.)

Back to the topic, sorry but I really hate coñotic people. There's such thing as maarte. There's also what we call nag-aarte-artehan. And there is a thing called maarteng stupid. The last group is the Pinoy equivalent of blondes.

-o0o-

As for the Bitlog, they are the Bisaya-Tagalog people. Sometimes, my Visayan twang would come out and I just laugh at myself. Among the many taxi and jeepney drivers that I've talked with, I would sometimes ask them immediately if they are from Cebu or Bohol when I could observe that their Tagalog is so hard. Even the security guard in our company is already feeling close to me since he knew that I'm from Butuan.

Anyway, I am living in a community where I'm surrounded by lots of trying-hard-Tagalog-speaking Bisaya. Sometimes, I get pissed and I want to tell them to speak in Bisaya instead. My friends in college are also trying hard to speak in Tagalog and I always tell them to converse with me in Bisaya. I miss speaking this dialect.

Here are some funny lines I hear from my neighbors. I wish I could record them and save them somewhere in the internet for you to hear them:

"Sus ikaw nga bata ka, ang aga-aga pa pinainit mo jud ang ulo ko. Gusto mo talagang kusion kita. Pisti!"

"Ikaw ang molayas dito kasi dili ito ang bahay na ito. Kabaga jud ng mukha mo na mangangkon."

"Giatay! Ambot na lang jud sa iyo..."

"Ano ka ba Terd (my name which they murder)? Gusto mo bang magmongha? Bakit dili ka man lumalabas sa kuwarto mo?"

-o0o-

Speaking of something in rhyme with bitlog, why the hell are there so many ugly guys who wear shirts printed "Wanna see my c**k?" They are not just gross pieces of perverts. They are deadly. I thought of reasons why. You may pick whatever is the best one.

1. So that people's attention would be diverted from their hideous faces to their shirt.
   
2. Actually they are already showing it except that they are members of Bill Gates' company - Microsoft.
   
3. They are looking for gay guys or horny old women.
   
4. I'm the one dirty-minded. They just mean they want to show us their pet rooster.

-o0o-

My horoscope of the day tells me...

The Moon in a fellow earth sign today reminds you that your ability to apply your logic to the work at hand can be an admirable trait. Still, erratic Uranus is beaming your key planet Mercury with a variety of wild and crazy ideas. Entertain even the most outrageous thoughts, but act on only the most sensible ones.

Thanks to tarot.com for this. Now you decide if I really believe in horoscopes.

Dyip

The jeepney. It's a public vehicle only found in the beautiful islands of the Philippines. It is where 10-12 passengers on one side don't have any choice but to face the other 10-12 (that is if it is fully loaded). It is where lots of soap opera-ish scenes are witnessed, where some crimes are committed, where great things happen.

I'm proud of our jeepney. Someday, we may officially consider it as our national means of conveyance but that has to wait until the end of the world since there are more important issues that our public servants need to address like the extension of the President's term, or whoever is the minority or majority in the House of Congress, and so fort.

Anyway, being a reactive and ever-whining citizen of this planet, let me enumerate things that I hate inside and outside the jeepney (I've also observed that most of the recent entries I have are listed. That just goes to show that I'm a great planner, but a worst organizer):

• Beggars. I understand that more than 70 percent of the Filipinos are buried by the never-ending economic condition called poverty. But we're born to have these arms to work and not to open our palms asking for alms. What makes me more mad is that these old people are even stronger and younger than my grandparents when in fact the latter even have the pride not to ask any amount from their children and opt to work in their farms to make a living. As far as I know, most of these so-called poor people have hectares of soil to plow in their provinces but just abandoned them thinking that life in the urban is just like a cloud of bubbles.
  
  And these kids, where are their parents who supposed to have felt ecstatic when they've reached their orgasm multiple times as they were creating them? Kids are made not to take their parents out of poverty nor work for their elders. They are their to be educated, clothed and fed. OK, I must have forgotten we've also experienced being very very poor but we didn't get to a point where my mom told us to beg. At an early age we were instilled with the value of hardwork and perseverance - that is, by peddling our mom's delicacies to our neighbors or selling something in school. There are other means of earning money - shoe shining, assisting travellers with their baggage, doing handicrafts and selling them. It just boils down to one thing - LAZINESS.
  
  
• Odourous elements. God created man with a nose to smell the freshness of the environment and not those bad breaths and smelly armpits. What's worse is that people who have halitosis are the ones who couldn't dare shut up nor close their mouths while those suffering with hyperhidrosis have the guts to raise their arms and hold the steel bars and wear sleeveless shirts.
  
  We are already in the 21st century where toothpastes and mouthwashes are flying everywhere. If one can't afford a roll-on deodorant, alums are just sold at one peso per pack so financial incapacity would never be an excuse. These people must really consider their co-passengers. In these times, hygiene is really of paramount importance. It's just hygiene.
  
  
• Shampoo models. Whether you're hair is nice, or you have just had it rebonded, or your shampoo costs a lot, or your hair is full of rice-looking particles called split ends, long-haired people must learn to hold their crowning glory if not tie them when inside the jeepney. It's painful for one's face to be slapped with a thousand strands of hair. It also doesn't taste delicious. Most of the time, when my cruelty starts to find a way, I try to hold one, or even many strands and pull them. Bwahaha!
  
  
• Garbage. I don't care if a jeepney has a waste basket or not. It wouldn't hurt anybody to keep his food wrappers or any piece of trash. Metro aides may be paid by the government to clean our streets but it just boils to one word - discipline. Why not bring your garbage home or wait until you could see a garbage can? And for those who spit, yucks! You're not just disgusting, you're a pig who transmits your diseases to others.
  
  Speaking of garbage, wouldn't there be a better location for those market trashes? Everyday of my life, as I pass by Tandang Sora Market, a variety of extremely unpleasant odor fume inside my lungs.
  
  
• Sleepers. I also sleep inside the jeepney but I would see to it that my head does not fall on somebody's shoulder. What makes it worse for some people is that they snoar, their mouths are wide open and saliva starts to flow out of their mouths.
  
  
• Sounds. There are lots of Cubao-Ever jeepneys who play the jolog-remix of novelty, alternative or even love songs even though it's out of tempo. Drivers and their conductors think that their passengers are entertained with this crime that they're doing (ruining a nice and so-not-nice piece of art) by setting the volume to the maximum to the point that I feel my butt is tickled by the strong sound waves from their cheap speakers! Don't they feel tired listening to the same set of songs all day, all week, all month or even all year long?
  
  
• Barkers. Drivers would still get their passengers without you. Just lazy pieces of craps who don't know anything but use their mouths and shout. Go get a job! And please we're human beings. We also need to breathe so don't force a 10-capacity seat to accomodate 15 people. Most of the time, you conspire with those money-hungry drivers to make us all fit.
  
  
• Bosses. Nobody is born to be a slave of anybody. Hand your fare to the driver by yourself. If you don't have a choice but ask for a favor, say "Please" and "Thank You." Those two words wouldn't contribute much of your system's proteinsynthesis nor your body's metabolism.
  
  
• Smokers. Fine! You have the right to puff a ream of cigarettes, or cigars, or even marijuana. I don't care but don't do it inside a semi-enclosed area especially when babies are around. If you can't help but smoke, step out of the jeepney and help yourself.
  
  
• Pokers. I have observed the same guys and girls standing by the waiting shed of Kalayaan Avenue. With the way they are dressed, they don't look like office workers. They look freshly bathed and they smell nice but they are not callcenter agents. One driver told me they are callboys and callgirls who could charge a person from 10 to a maximum of 100 bucks. Tsk. Tsk.
  
  
• Cuddlers and kissers. I don't care if you're too horny to express your lust but never do it infront of so many people. About 5% of the public display of affection acts that I've observed look nice. 95% suck. What's with the cuddling, kissing, and petting in public? If coitus would be the only way to relieve that heat inside, drag your partner to a motel nearby and do what you want. Decency is something we must practice. After all, we are Filipinos, known to be the fellow countrymen of Maria Clara.
  
  
• Robbers. Need I explain more? Hold-uppers, pickpockets, and all. Another group of individuals who know nothing but take away people's hard-earned resources from them. These kinds of people don't have space in this world. They should be buried alive.
  
  
• Christians and charitable institutions. Solicitations here, there and everywhere. These are the educated and upper class beggars. There are proper places to do solicitation, and it's not on the streets. And what's with the preaching of God's word? Jesus never tells anybody to use His word in return of money nor any favor.
  
  
• Drag racers. Passengers' lives depend on the person who holds the wheel. Though a few minutes later, it wouldn't be anybody's lose to arrive at their destinations safely.

I may forget some more and you may include them in your comments.

-o0o-

I've heard it from Love Añover in Unang Hirit that the 25 cent-coin may be faced out soon if we wouldn't use it. I know that a piece of metal is quite heavy to carry everyday but it would help our drivers and cashiers a lot in giving change to their customers.

-o0o-

I'm just happy. My aunt's stepdaughters finally decided to move out. Now I have a more spacious place. I could even play blackjack alone.

-o0o-

Got this beautiful quote on January 2, 2006:

"Friendship isn't about being there to discuss each other's problems. It's just about being there. She need not open up for you to know there's something wrong and you need not say anything to let her know you're there for her. Sometimes it's when you're both silent that you say the most meaningful things."

Dr. Caroline T. Pan
Heart Physician
(Updated on June 10, 2006 at 11:17 a.m.)
I apologize to Dr. Charo for mistakenly quoting her mind-awakening quotation. Hehehe.

Forgiveness

For several nights, I have been continuously haunted by a series of similar dreams. I have been dreaming about my oldest sister's death. I was very happy in the scene. I was even planning to hold a party and go to church to thank God for taking out their (together with her irresponsible husband's) lives. In that way, I wouldn't have to spend time, effort and money to have them killed.

For the thousands of injuries my sister has carved on my mom's heart, for being an ungrateful daughter and sister, for being a selfish mother to her kids, for solely being an unessential piece of a person in this society, I can't forgive her and I'm wishing for her death.

I know this is not right. Of course I couldn't kill them, nor any other person, nor pay somebody to do it. The shameful and disappointing experiences my mom had been into are already enough. But I'm looking forward to see her lying inside the coffin, long before I could feel myself rising from my dead body. At that time, I wouldn't grieve, not even shed a drop of tear. With her death, I would reach my nirvana instead.

Shame on her when she disowned us once. Shame on us when she did it to us more than thrice. Fate made her my sister. Her wrong choice made me her worst enemy. Forgiveness should only be granted to those who sincerely apologized and never commit the same mistake again. For a prodigal daughter like her, a daughter who consumed much of our mom's time, resources and emotions and brought back lots of heartaches, the only party that she deserves for her next comeback would be her funeral. That'd be the only time that I would be so excited to accept her. And I'll make sure I could give her the most beautiful wreath I could afford. And then, she'll be out of our lives... for good.

Check the Dictionary

To Edward Raymund Cruz, Elridge Ray Tan Bibera and other ignorant people out there, check this out. I intentionally wrote your full name to warn the public that there are still ignorant professionals like you who exist. Second is that in case you'll be bored and think of searching your name in Google, you'll be able to stumble upon this entry.

al·ter·nate
Pronunciation: US and Canadian 'ol-t&r-n&t also 'al-; chiefly British ol-'t&r-
Function: adjective
Etymology: Latin alternatus, past participle of alternare, from alternus alternate, from alter (homophone of altar)

1. : occurring or succeeding by turns (a day of alternate sunshine and rain)
   
2. a : arranged first on one side and then on the other at different levels or points along an axial line -- compare OPPOSITE b : arranged one above or alongside the other
   
3. : every other : every second (he works on alternate days)
   
4. : constituting an alternative (took the alternate route home)
   
5. : ALTERNATIVE 3
   - al·ter·nate·ly adverb

Pronunciation Symbols
\o\ as aw in law
\&r\as ur/er in further
\&\ as a and u in abut
\a\ as a in ash
\ä\ as o in mop
\A\ as a in ace

So, it's never \äl-t&r-nAt\. Also, you never say \äl-redI\ for already or \älrayt\ for alright. Right?

Narcissism and Politics

Indeed, politics is the show business of ugly people. It's evident in everything I see in Metro Manila. Even banners congratulating the graduates or greeting everybody a merry Christmas require a councilor's face attached to it, never mind if the messages are barely readable as long as their big horrible faces are printed. In the first place, the so-called "public service" is just the secondary agenda. They just want publicity and posting those kinds of "ads" is merely telling the public that they are visible and they're worthy to be re-elected.

Conclusion, if you are narcissistic but you can't be a star, run for a public position.

Transamerica

Yesterday afternoon, as I was, again, suffering from my sleeping disorder, I decided to view some movies from my newly-bought pirated (shame) DVD. There are eight movies in that disc and I thought of viewing them in order. The other day, I watched All About Love with Jennifer Love Hewitt and it's the type that I would watch and then forget everything about it.

Then there's Transamerica. As an apathetic person, I never heard about it so I didn't expect something from it at all only to find out that it was entertaining.

It's a story about Sabrina "Bree" Osborne (Felicity Huffman), formerly Stanley, a very excited soon-to-be-female male who receives an unexpected call from some fruit of his/her past - his/her son, Toby (Kevin Zegers), who's imprisoned for hustling on the streets of New York. It was only then that he/she knew that he/she had fathered a son when he/she was still a he. He/she is compelled by his/her psychiatrist to bail this kid out and give him a better life.

Initially, he/she plans to take him back to Colorado, where his stepfather lives (since his mother already died) and just leave him there. Unexpected things happen which lead them to a road trip from New York, to Colorado, to New Mexico and back to his/her place in Los Angeles. Of course, he/she doesn't have the nerve to say to the kid that he/she is his father.

Their getting-to-know-each-other bonding moments happen along their journey. Toby's dark past is revealed, his being an addict, a hustler, etc., and so is Bree's course-hopping.

Complications start when he/she stops by his/her parents' house. It's kind of ironic since it is usually the father who gets so upset whenever he finds out that his son is a she but in this movie, it is the mother who's worse than disappointed the father was very much OK. Anyways, the situation warrants for Bree to tell the truth to Toby about his/her true being.

The biggest conflict in the story is not Bree against his/her son nor with his/her family and the people around. Instead, it is the conflict against himself/herself. The moral of the story is that one could never be really happy and can't move forward if he's not able to confront his past.

-o0o-

What really amazed me is Felicity's face and body. She really looks like she's gay (including the scene when he peed and his penis was shown). It's more than an ordinary movie for me, a no ordinary gender-sensitive movie. I guess it's not shown in theaters here in Manila and it's a shame. It deserves much appreciation than any other overly hyped flicks around which could only offer the same-as-useless-but-slightly-twisted plots.

Inahan

HAPPY MOTHER's DAY TO ALL MOMS OUT THERE!

Today isn't a special day. This is a very special day. I don't know what else to say.

This is the article that I've submitted for kiwibox on March 19, 2005. In the actual article, I lied a bit just to make it timely for the celebration of the International Women's Month. But here is the real one. Just feel free to read on.

We recently celebrated International Women’s Day. It is just so timely to write this article since we are also honoring women in the entire world, and undeniably, our mothers are heroines in their own respective rights. I hope that this is a small way of paying homage to the sweat and blood that they have shed for us.

Most of us might have argued with our mother at least once when we were growing up. Blame it on generation gaps or anything else you want, but they've been there. Generally, the world that they lived in before we were born is quite a bit more conservative than the ones we have grown up in. I know I was one of those adolescents who, every single day, would get irritated, answer back and even disrespect my mother just because I felt that she crippled my wings in order for me to fly and breathe another kind of air. But fortunately, I’ve grown up to be a man, a mature one, who has realized that what she had done for me was for my betterment.

My mom performed a dual role for the family since I was three. My dad died without leaving us any centavo. His family even suggested to her that my two sisters and I be adopted by another family in order to lighten her burden. But instead of giving up, she opted to raise us alone, exerting everything she's got, more than five times before, and here she is, reaping the fruits of her labor — one a mother, the other a successful government employee and me, a licensed ECE.

Like my mother, yours have also put forth enormous efforts in order to give you life. I know I sound so preachy but they deserve appreciation from us. Let me enumerate some of them.

To start with, we cannot deny that they had carried us in their wombs for nine months, or a little less in some cases. Regardless of whether they pampered us, just didn’t care anything about their health at that time or even attempted to abort us, they still managed to carry it out and bring us into the world. At that point in time, they felt the agony of physical pain, risking their lives just to give it to us, and some even offered their entire lives just to make us exist.

Then it continued with the sleepless nights of singing countless lullabies while rocking us in their arms. We cannot remember those moments, but still their touch has lingered on us. They may have complained during those times when they had to wake up in the midst of their slumber just to feed us milk to quench our hunger, but they did it.

Our moms were our support when we were growing up. Most of us were taken to and from school by our mothers. They were the ones who would get nervous and would panic during school plays or competitions. I couldn’t forget how I cried on her shoulders when I didn’t qualify for the final round in a quiz bee when I was in first grade. She was the one who encouraged me to give my best next time, challenging me that I have the capacity to win and I felt she didn’t lose her confidence in me until I won in Grade IV. I know most of you have also experienced the same thing.

Then their emotional torture commenced when we became teenagers. They want us to do the right thing while we preferred to go the other way, experimenting other methods. They might have hurt us physically but they are the ones who felt more pain than we did. They gave us freedom, and when we fail, we still run to them for refuge.

Who constantly prays for us when we don’t have time for God? Who prepares our bags when we go camping or on a trip? Who cooks the best recipe for us and for our friends? Who defends us whenever our father reprimands us? It is our mom who has done all of these.

A number of my classmates in basic school were going astray. Some of them became pregnant before graduating. Others failed to graduate on time in college because they were hooked on drugs. Some just didn’t care about their lives. Constant communication with them tells me that they had finally survived those trials with the help of one person who understands and accepts them no matter what differences they possess and faults they have committed — their mom.

Miss Universe 1994, Sushmita Sen, aptly said, "To be born a woman is by itself a great gift of God, and we must all appreciate it. The origin of a child is a mother and it is the woman that teaches a man how to love care and share; that is the essence of a woman."

Evaluating my life, I’ve realized that I couldn’t have grown to be a better man without my mom’s guidance. I’ve realized more that her being so strict on me was for a good reason — to mould me into the best person that I could be while keeping me on track.

Gone are the days that I misunderstood my mom. This is the time for me to give back what she had shared to me. This time it’s sweeter and bigger. I’m lucky to have her.

As for the rest of you, it’s never too late to build a bridge with your mom. She is the reason why you exist. Honor her, defend her, and most of all, love her, for if you don't, who else will?

Hospital Boy

No. I did not say I'm a hospitality boy (as if I would pass as one). For the fourth time in my life, I had been confined in the hospital. The first one was when I was unconscious for three days for being bumped by a speeding jeepney (God! Thank you for covering me at that time that I didn't encounter any fracture). That was on April 1992 in the Elisa R. Ochoa Memorial Hospital in Butuan City. The second one was in Chong Hua Hospital in Cebu City, October 31, 2004, the first time that I was away from home, and the first time when I've proven that I could manage to bring myself to the hospital alone. I could remember at that time that at the middle of every call, I had to excuse myself from the customer for me to run to the wash room and vomit and/or move my bowel. The third was in Butuan Doctor's Hospital in February 2005, when I felt too weak of having cough and colds for more than a month. My! I thought I already had TB at that time. Then this is the fourth - April 23, 2006, 2:05 p.m. when I brought myself to St. Luke's Hospital, Quezon City, for my loose bowel movement and for constantly throwing up.

I have a timeline of the things that happened to me and the things that I've done in the hospital but I think they are too personal and that you may not find anything essential in it except the words nagtae na naman or blood backflowed up to the middle of the dextrose hose since the nurses don't constantly check the patient unless you call them through the intercom.

This has been the most difficult hospitalization that I've got. Except Caro (who processed my admission papers, lent me Igno, her iPod nano that is, constantly visited me and bought me food) and Jay (who was compelled to visit me since I asked him to bring the pre-signed PhilHealth Form 1), nobody paid a visit. There were people who asked if they could still come and I told them no. God, I am not a well-mannered person but when I know if a friend or a close relative who is sick and is confined in the hospital, it's needless for me to ask if I could visit him or not - it's automatic for me to go to him, even without bringing something. Personally, asking one's friend if he could be visited or not solicits for that patient's guilt of bothering you. I hate it. If you want to pay a visit, you need not ask. It's nothing compulsory.

For that, I want to sincerely thank you, Caro and Jay. Thank you too, Arlette and Giz for sending me uplifting messages.

Through that experience, I've pondered upon two things. The first one was about what Joanna told me long ago - that, unlike in any other places, people in Manila don't have a strong support system. Friends wouldn't care if you're still breathing or not. All they're thinking are their own lives. And this experience proved that Anna was right. Though folks in Cebu were as busy as the people here, they never failed to come and see me when I was sick, though it was also a burden for my finances since I would have to order for their food every now and then. But then, their support was so amazing and it was only now that see the big difference.

The second thing is about my attitude. I couldn't forget what Caro said. "Kawawa ka naman. Wala ka'ng friends. Hahaha!" She's true. I don't have friends because it's my choice. And if I have some, they're just too few. I'm not a friendly and warm person and I don't care if people think of me as bitchy or what. Anyway, I was confined because of acute gastroenteritis, not because my leg had to be cut or what, so I was still able to drag my dextrose stand and go to the bathroom.

Hospital Review

Now comes my comments on the hospital. The service isn't too nice. I had been in the ER ward for five hours, waiting if I'll be confined or what. I was too pale and my lips were severely chapping and I've told the doctor right from the start that I want to be confined to regain my strength. Kesyo they still wanted to make sure if Hydrite would resolve the problem or not. I was already too weak and I found myself lying in an air conditioned yet very hot and very noisy room. Unlike in Chong Hua, they immediately gave me the form, told me to go to the frontdesk to get a number and before an hour, I found myself having a dextrose and being sent in a very cozy room that no one would think it's a hospital. St. Luke's is too hospital-ish that you still could feel that you're ill.

The food, as always, tastes so terrible. I am too particular on edible things since I know how to cook. As the primary priority in my life, I always make sure that what I take in are delicious and sad to say, I felt like I was eating something for the pigs. Even dog food would smell and taste better than those.

Anyway, I must commend the nurses for being so courteous and accomodating, though they don't possess the sense of urgency when you call them and that they don't have the timer to check what time they're supposed to replace your dextrose. Thanks for constantly refilling my bottle with water. And to the housekeepers and linen people, thanks for making my room and bed nice and neat.

Too bad that I was sick and "disabled." I would have seen Donita Rose in the hallway. Caro did. But I've seen Paul Salas, that bibo kid I constantly see on TV, whose father is one of the twins in the disbanded Universal Motion Dancers.

I'm out of the hospital. My mom asked if I could go home so that I would be treated by means of alternative medicine. I could sense that, as her only son, and her biologically youngest child, she misses me so badly. I'm also dying to go home but I'm afraid my company won't allow me. I would have to compete with several others to have my vacation leave approved. I don't know. But I miss Butuan... and also my family.

Sick Days

I decided to be absent from work since the other night. I was totally exhausted and my lack of sleep for several weeks (a maximum of four hours) drained me too much. I know may halong pag-iinarte 'to but my back really aches these past weeks. I hate this scoliosis and here I am suffering from my migraine again and I feel like throwing up.

On a lighter note, Caro and I had finally purchased the new portable system from ACER. It's actually my sister's computer but she trusts me too much in looking for the best specs and the best price. Maybe, I could suggest that she'll give the PC a good name, just like what Caro does to her fruits of labor (sorry Caro for being gaya-gaya and thanks for the idea. hehehe). Anyway, I'm too confident I've chosen the right one. Aside from the very nice LCD, the system runs fast as compared to her old one (I've just realised that the old Acer laptop has only 64MB of RAM. Ewww. Patay gutom. Hahahaha. I still could remember how my sister got pissed when I laughed out loud while talking with her on the phone about it.) And when I've checked the service center how much the "damage" would be if we'll have the LCD, optical drive, bottom plastic and modem repaired - it's a wacking 45,000 pesos! I could buy a newer and a far better system at that. In fact, it only has a Celeron processor and its operating system is only Windows ME. There's a high-end desktop computer that's being offered to Caro's mom for only 41,000 (17" Flat Panel monitor, etc.)

-o0o-

I'm supposed to be resting today since I really am not feeling well. It's like GOD, or the devils, I suppose, is whispering to me, "eTel is nothing but a hell. Get out of their before you'll rest forever." But I need to survive in this big city so I must stick to it before I could get a new job.

I was still sleeping at 8 this morning when somebody knocked on my door. I thought it was the laundry woman (Yes, I could afford one now. Hahaha) but to my surprise, it's my cousin who is applying for a job here in Manila, since Mindanao has really a few to offer and it's facing the so-called "brain drain" dilemma. Tsk tsk. She asked if I could accompany her to the National Statistics Office to get an authenticated copy of her birth certificate. I thought that it would be to mean for me to say "no" since I am, at times, a very kind person, too, though I feel that I'm already dying.

People in Butuan, hear this. Their NSO office here is big BUT it's too hot. Walang ka-aircon-aircon aside from the fact that the employees are so slow-moving. Ayon at tumindi ang sakit ng ulo ko to the point that I felt my skull would break at any point. Good thing that prayers really worked that I was able to withstand the terrible pain.

I wasn't aware that she's planning to go to the Philippine Stock Exchange (West)building for an interview. Besides waling to the building from SM Megamall, at 1 p.m., when the sun's heat could totally fry my scalp, I also wasn't aware that there are establishments, other than the Professional Regulation Commission that won't allow people in slippers to enter. I felt that I was treated like a beggar to enter the building through the basement, with so many che-che buretse before I could get a visitor's ID. And we were not allowed to use any kind of elevator except the service elevator all because I was in slippers (when in fact my footwear is more expensive than other people's shoes there. Add it with the employees who are too jologs and they speak like market vendors.) I couldn't even forget the face of the elevator operator who asked me, "Saan ang mga idi-deliver niyo?" and I spoke no word. My stabbing eyes would be enough to shut his mouth.

My cousin observed that I was already totally pissed. Vulgar languages flooded at the back of my head but I still decided to maintain the small amount of compsure and professionalism in me. There are times when silence is the best way to attack one's anger. Thank you, Lord for enlightening my mind during that dark moment, else, I could have eaten all those people alive.

And so, we went to that company, that, because of its being too Pinoy, I never heard about it at all. Their office environment is like a noisy internet cafe with computers too old-looking. And the employees' face look like... never mind. We were told by the guard to proceed to the reception area - where the darn, stupid, idiot, ignorant and chimay-looking frontdesk officer would be found. To make it short, she heard several comments from me when she asked my cousin "Are you sure na sinabihan kang may bakant dito at pinsan ka ni (ewan)?" With so many "Are you sure" questions that she asked, I wasn't able to control myself and said, "Are you sure you are the receptionist here? You don't even possess even a... pinch of manners... of sense of professionalism...."

This day has already been ruined. A 250-milligram capsule of Ponstan didn't cure my severe headache. I had to take Dolfenal 500. Anytime from now I'm gonna be inutile. Thanks to Caro's installed games and I'm still enjoying this so-called life.

As for the question if I'll be reporting back to work this evening? NO! I'm not in the mood to.

Ginataang Halu-halo

Visayan term - binignit
Maranao/Cagayanon/Iliganon term - tabirak
Ilonggo - lugaw
English term - still to be discovered.
Note: Remember that looks would often be deceiving. Food tastes a lot better than how it looks. I'm not good at presentation.

Ingredients:
gabi, cut into cubes
camote, cut into cubes
monggo beans
malagkit
langka, cut into strips
sago
landang
saging na saba
bilo-bilo (ground wet malagkit, formed into small balls)
coconut milk
white sugar
vanilla extract
water

Procedure:
1. Separately soak the malagkit, monggo beans and landang in water for at least 30 minutes.
2. Boil the malagkit and monggo beans until tender.
3. Add in the gabi and camote. Constantly stir the mixture to prevent the ingredients from sticking. Keep the fire to low heat.
4. Add in the banana and bilo-bilo.
5. Add some amount of water to lessen the consistency.
6. Put in some sugar to taste.
7. Mix the landang.
8. Slowly add the coconut milk while stirring the mixture.
9. Constantly stir for about 5 minutes under low fire.
10. Remove the pot from the stove and add vanilla and langka strips.

Tips:
1. Keep mixing the ingredients to prevent them from sticking on the bottom.
2. Always keep fire to low.
3. Only add the vanilla when stove is turned off to prevent excessive evaporation, thus, losing its aroma and taste.

A frustrated cook's note:
I normally don't measure the ingredients as I think that I only do that in a chemical laboratory. Cooking must be done with fun and not with strict application of Science.

Moments of Love

"Ang pag-ibig walang pinipiling panahon, walang pinipiling wakas."

I am jologs. I admit it.

The time I heard the song "Moments of Love," my attention was drawn to it and as time progressed, I was curious on how the movie would be like. Add it with the fact that I like Iza Calzado.

So I watched it yesterday at SM Fairview, alone, as always.

I'm supposed to write a movie review but for some reasons, I can't make a good one. Maybe because I didn't find it as a movie but just an hour and forty-five minutes of telesine.

The plot is a combination of "Somewhere in Time," "Frequency" and, according to others, some other Chinese and Korean movies. It's so clear in the movie's trailer that two individuals, living in two different periods, meet through the phone and then their love story starts.

The flick is a revelation of Dingdong Dantes' acting skill - that finally, he's able to prove that he's no longer a matinee idol but a mature actor. I just find Karylle so conscious infront of the cam that I didn't find her acting good. As for Paolo Contis, he's an effective villain but his wig is too funny that I thought it was a nest that anytime a bird would lay eggs on it.

A Filipino film wouldn't be Pinoy at all if there are salimpusas around acting as panggulo or should I say, fillers. But Jojo Alejar's character as an 80's actor who has lost his fame and still possesses the star complex is an effective comic relief.

Comparing to some other Filipino movies I've seen, this one is somewhat different. Different in a way that I wasn't able to predict its ending. There's a twist in the denouement that caught me surprised (just irritated though with a very shallow and stupid audience who kept on howling during that scene).

Generally, the movie is good... yes, it's good.

Tinuktok

Last night, my voracious personality won't allow me to turn down the opportunity that was given to me to eat tinuktok at Caro's. It's one of the food I simply can't resist. It may not look nice but it's one of the most delicious native delicacies I've ever tasted in my entire life to the extent that I literally forgot where I'm at when I took my first bite of it.

Anyway, last night was the chance for me to see Chocnut and Coco again and meet Caro's parents. I miss Caro. Though I haven't seen her for just four days, I still miss her presence. And I miss more the serious discussions, the very logical and practical advices she gives me (take note, she's more than a year younger than me but she reacts and thinks like she's a lot older).

A chat with Caro would never be boring. It is the moment when I am listening to my sister and learn a lot of lessons from her. It's the time when I assess myself and realize a lot of things.

One of the things we've discussed is about maturity, stability, and aiming for a goal. I've come to think that I still wasn't able to fulfill one of my dreams - and that has to remain a secret until I would finally turn it to reality. Good for me, I make plans for myself. But the thing Caro and I are both afraid of, and feel pitiful of, is knowing a person who doesn't know what to do with his life, living all his life in denial and not experiencing mental and psychological maturity that her chronological age should have undergone. It's such a pity. But we can't do anything for him.

As for how Caro's mom sees me, she thinks I'm "totoo, desente (bwahahaha)," and I forgot the last adjective that she used for me. And right from her own mouth, she told me that Badet and I would be a perfect couple... and I just laughed.

Flashback Part 4

February 13, 1997, in Carl Patrick's Bistro. Still in third year high school. The City Population Commission conducted a love forum, inviting high school students from schools in the city, and I was one of them.

It wasn't at all extra-ordinary. Aside from the torta (Carl Patricki's had the best torta I've ever tasted) and softdrinks, it was an event where we were encouraged to exchange our views about love and courtship. But it wasn't that thing that made it memorable for me. There was one part of the forum that I couldn't delete from my long-term memory.

After the break, one of the moderators passed around a basket of rolled papers - one for the girls and one for the boys. I was too noisy while the baskets were passed around and I didn't mind what was written on the paper that I had picked - it just said "Mr. Valentine."

"Uh, OK," I told myself. "So I'm gonna ba the king." Then I laughed.

Balot was even mad why her paper was blank. She should have a title for herself. So, she wrote "Dancing Queen" on hers.

Then the Emcee told us not to throw the papers. There's a prize for whatever you've picked and I was excited since I was thinking of a freebie or an extra food for myself. Then such excitement turned to disappointment and embarrasment. Miss Valentine was first called. And she was asked to sit on the stage and was awarded with a crown of flowers, bouquet and a sash. I wished I could disappear at that time, looking for the nearest escape from the hall. But it was too late when my classmates where pointing on me when Mr. Valentine was called. Shit! I had to walk to the stage, receive the lei and sash and be with the "queen." Worse, I had to kiss her. An emotionally and socially immature person like me didn't know how to handle that. I couldn't even remember how I kissed her - was it cheek-to-cheek or did my lips touch her cheek. All I could remember was my face was totally red (as I could feel it) and I couldn't hear myself since the crowd was shouting "Kiss! Kiss!"

It was really humiliating for me. I knew that girl. She used to be my schoolmate in grade school. Damn, I was damned!

Forbidden!

I always see this everytime I go to Ever Commonwealth. This isn't funny... and I hate it everytime I pass by these signs (take note, it's a series of signs of the same content and mistake). Bakit di na lang kasi tagalugin?

Words I Always Say but Never Mean

I'm...

    happy
             fine
                   OK
                         alright

Testi

In these times when you feel sad, sick and lonely,
Check your friendster and read your testi(s).
Before you know it, you're smiling and it makes you happy!

Mulawin the Movie

"Umasa kayo sa liwanag kahit aandap-andap."

I had been an avid viewer of Mulawin since it started airing in Philippine television on June 2004. This epic of mythical half-bird, half-human creatures caught my curious attention because of its nice trailer and definitely great theme song, sung by one of my favorite bands, Southborder.

After almost a year of their last bow as a primetime series that undeniably swept the charts as far as public viewing is concerned, GMA and Regal Films venture into a movie version of Mulawin.

The Plot

The saga begins with the series' ending as Aguiluz (Richard Gutierrez) and Alwina (Angel Locsin) embrace mortal life. It was clearly shown in the ending of the series that they opted to become humans and spend the rest of their lives together. But their journey ended in tragedy when the ship to Tierra Fuego was caught in a violent storm, separating them at sea and both being washed ashore.

Both have lost their memories because of the curse given by Dakila (Eddie Guiterrez), that is, whoever leaves Avila, the home of the Mulawins, will no longer remember a single thing about the race, except if they will be reminded of such. These two protagonists live separate lives. Alwina became a surrogate daughter of a wealthy family (which was not clearly shown) while Aguiluz is rescued by a poor married couple. Alwina is later engaged to marry Gabriel (Dennis Trillo), Aguiluz' half brother to their father, Ravenum (Michael de Mesa), the antagonist.

As it was clearly shown in the series itself, the Mulawins and the Encantadas were already allied forces right from the start. As the Mulawin tree is starting to wither because of the lost ugatpak (the main feather attached to the creature's back which would serve as the source of their strength), the battle for power between Pirena (Sunshine Dizon) and her co-Sanggre sisters in Lireo occurs, eyeing for the "gintong binhi", the fruit of the Mulawin tree, which could rise creatures from the dead. Pirena took the binhi by force from Alena (Karylle) and Ybrahim (Dingdong Dantes) and brought back to life the ruthless Ravenum, who was out to wreak havoc on Avila and Encantadia.

Challenges arise right from the start of letting Alwina remember her true identity to the quest for peace, love, freedom and survival for the Mulawin species.

Comments

The Cinema Evaluation Board of the Philippines gave this movie an A rating, thus, making it as the only movie in the filmfest to receive such mark. However, there are still some lapses that were so evident in a normal but keen viewer's eyes like mine.

As what I expected, the storyline was so predictable, with the good winning over the evil forces. Typical melodramatic scenes continously steam from the characters, soliciting for emotions from Filipino audience. Who could forget near-death situations, exchanging of dialogues, with one person catching his breath, while the other one is streaming her tears with mucus barely coming out from her nose? Such very very typical of a Filipino film.

Though the flight scenes are breath-taking, with the wings of the characters, this time more detailed and realistic, the drama of it all has lost. I admit I was amazed at first but after a few minutes of watching them fly, my excitement just flew away to anywhere I don't know. But I should say the special effects are better seen on TV than on the big screen itself.

The series took about eight months and this movie was like only two hours. The scenes were obviously hurried, jeopardizing the continuity and clarity of every transition. The storyline failed to explain the disappearance of Lourdes (Amy Austria), Gabriel and Pirena.

The timing was not right, making people recall why Pirena was so evil when nowadays, the Sanggres' bond is too strong, fighting against the Etherians. It could have been better if the movie was released during the time when Encantadia's story dwells on the rivalry between Amihan (Izza Calzado) and Pirena so that people could really relate the story with the fantaserye.

And where have the Pirekos, the Amazonas, Habagat (Romnick Sarmienta) gone? The fact that the moviemakers claim that this movie is a continuation of the soap disappoints the viewers because these characters were not seen in the movie. There should have been, at least, some explanations why they were not around. Habagat's character, for example is a very essential one since he is known as the greatest warrior among the Mulawins and he was not killed in the soap opera.

However, the high-sounding all-Filipino poetic lines delivered by each character added a nice touch to the movie. It's nice to hear those words coming out of these people's mouth.

Even though Angel and Richard's faces look so exhausted and the latter's make up is too much for a macho male hero and it doesn't look realistic for warriors to have nice, manicured fingernails, they still register well on screen and their nice chemistry as a tandem was never lost. In addition, seeing Izza Calzado's very lovely face gives grace to my movie experience.

Moral

Made specially for children, Mulawin the Movie shares the cliche that good will always win over the evil. In a way, even mature audience could relate to it. We could apply it in ourselves and with the present situation that our country is facing - that no matter how long we would be suffering from evil politicians, time will come that their reign would end and that we will be victorious with our quest for freedom and development. Question is, does it really happen in real life?

Generally, I could say that the movie is not bad itself compared to local movies made (I told myself never to compare local flicks to foreign ones because it's not fair). We have been improving as far as special effects is concerned but we still have to work harder to reach farther. Over-all, basing my comments on Filipino films' standards, I give it three stars.

A Date to Remember

I am so used to do things with my own. Call me a loser. I call myself as somebody who enjoys his exciting life being alone.

I miss this thing I usually do since I was in third year college. I often cut classes to have a date with somebody I knew for so long - that's me. As a loner, I go to the movies alone, eat at a fastfood chain, go malling, sit on a bench at the National Museum lagoon, or wasting my time by having a joyride.

After a long time, for God knows how long that I can't even remember, I get to have enough time for myself. This is the reward I get when I would have my day off and there would be no friend to tag along with since it's either they're geographically miles away, or they are resting, at work, busy, or it's my personal choice not to be with them.

This time, I get to spend a quality time for myself. After being awake whole night for sleeping eight hours when the sun was smiling in the sky, staying in the office and seeing my friends, and finally taking some rest in my crowded room, I've thought of going out to do something.

Since I missed the Sunday mass, I chose to go to SM Fairview and watch a movie. My Ate said Mulawin is worth watching for so I gave the flick a try. I really didn't enjoy it that much (and I'm bound to publish my review on my next blog entry) but I'm still happy that I was able to give myself some time, making subo some popcorns to my date every now and then.

After then, I strolled around the mall, checking for some nice longsleeves to buy on my next pay day. Then I was able to pass by Red Ribbon so my date and I got in to have a taste of any cake I would like. Sweet, isn't it? Myself is the best date that I could have - no cheesy invitations, no sweet words, no flowers, no need to dress up properly, no need to be dumped.

The Speech I Delivered Before I Lost Myself

Toastmasters. It's an international public speaking club Ian, my bestfriend, had recruited me to join. That was my first time to live in Cebu City for my review classes. As a person who loves fun and co-curricular activities, and sets the main purpose aside, I tried myself with this organization. Besides, it is really my passion to speak infront of a podium, expressing how I feel with the world.

I had delivered this first basic speech (among ten speeches before promoting a plain Toastmaster to Competent Toastmaster then to Advanced Toastmaster) on August 9, 2003, at about 5 p.m. in Baseline Resto in Cebu City. Since one's self is the person one could know best, self-introduction was the topic for the first speech.

With the Hakuna Matata theme that was set, I must say I made a nice first impression on the Queen City Toastmasters that evening. I'm only good at firsts. When my second speech was delivered the following meeting (August 23), I sucked with my poorly prepared piece, being so grilled by Judge "Dread" Navarro, that ended my life as a TM.

Now, I'm attracted to join the club again. This time in eTel. Should I pursue it? Why not. Maybe I have to check my budget again and see what I could do.

Anyway, here was my first speech. I could remember I was in my brown polo and denim jeans at that time. I had to wear something orange-y or brown to jive with the theme or else I'll be paying 20 bucks as a fine for non-compliance.

Thanks to my mentor, Richard Ramos, a famous columnist of The Freeman and a travel book author, who shared his time and talent for me. Meeting him thrice prior this presentation, proofreading my piece, listening to my delivery and criticking some parts, was such a big help for me. Thanks Richard, and sorry for the mess I've made for tainting your good name during my second speech. I was humiliated but it was you who was put more to shame.

About 22 years ago, my father’s quickest sperm cell won the race over the billion others in uniting with my mother’s heavily-guarded ovum. Nine months after, a male Homo sapiens sapiens gasped his first mouthful of oxygen in this planet – and that’s me.

GREETINGS

Honestly, when I first thought of making a speech about myself, I faced many inhibitions. Well, I admit that I’m so narcissistic but I just show my conceit to my friends and to myself. Talking mainly about me, myself and I, specially with some strangers may lead me to being misconstrued of self-promoting or tooting my own horn. But when I realized that this exercise would be the only way to make me leap higher, I have no other choice but to do this.

I was baptized as Edu*rdo Riz*d* C*t*yoc III. I used to hate my name because it sounds so locally made. But later on, I began appreciating it when I knew its meaning. It is Spanish for “a rich guardian”. And when I’m called Ed**rd* III during class role calls, it sounds like a Spanish prince enrolled in my teacher’s subject. My classmates call me Edward while my Biology professor addresses me as Eddie. Some call me Ed while my friends call me Ed**rd*. You could call me in anyway from those I’ve mentioned but I like it most when people call me the way I’m known at home – Third.

My former “friend” describes me as “one of the girls” because I easily mingle with the opposite sex but find it hard to deal with the guys. In fact, in my barkada of 14, 10 are females and only four of us have the XY chromosomes. The reason behind this is that I was raised in a feminine environment – with my mom, two older sisters, my aunt for whom I’m the apple of her eye, a legally acquired younger sister, and even a female dog. I grew up without a father figure because my dad passed away when I was still three. I was raised through women’s ways and strengths that’s why I always raise my hat off to the likes of my mom – the epitome of women empowerment.

Numerology pertaining to my name and birthday states that I’m accident-prone. My family didn’t believe it at first. It’s ordinary for a kid to get injured while playing, right? But as time went by, we’ve observed that I was meeting several cases of accidents. As a preschooler, I fell several times into the drainage and had half of my body soaked with stinky canal waters. (Eww! That was gross!). One time, I almost drowned at the beach. During my early elementary, I was rushed to the hospital twice. First was for a dose of anti-tetanus vaccine for almost experiencing lockjaw due to a dirty nail lodged in my foot. The second time, for having four stitches sewn in my inner cheek and upper left lip for hitting my mouth on the floor. The worst case occurred when I was ten. I was unconscious for three days due to an encounter with a speeding jeepney while I was crossing the highway. Had I died at that time, there wouldn’t be a handsome individual who will share his near-death experience to you. The doctor looks at it as a miracle. We call it a second chance.

Since then, my family was already convinced that I am really accident-prone. They became so overprotective of me that I had to inform them of my whereabouts every now and then. I bid goodbye to playing outdoors and stayed at home instead whenever I didn’t have classes. Later, I realized, I was already too old to learn the basics about basketball, swimming, biking, rollerblading and even climbing a tree. I was too shy to start learning those things at my advanced age. That is why I’ve never appreciated sports.

I consider my personality as a complex one that I myself could not understand. I have shallow dreams and happiness yet I couldn’t fathom the depths of my feelings and thoughts.

I enjoy debating and speaking onstage, yet I find it hard to deal with people. I’m an anti-social being who prefers to sleep at home than go to the discos and parties. I’m a noisy, jolly, warm and funny blabbermouth who can’t hide my jerky motions and loud voice whenever I’m with my friends. But most people consider me as a snob – an uncongenial piece of individual who doesn’t give a damn who he is bumping into. I always see to it that my ideas will win over the others’ during class presentations. But I haven’t won in any individual competition. I always demand perfection from
others but I can’t find excellence in myself. I have a keen eye on people’s mistakes but I live with the principle that I’m not born to please everybody. I want to stay alone listening to music, singing at the top of my voice, sleeping, reading and watching TV, yet I can’t last a day without calling at least one of my friends. People call me weird but my friends call me awesome just because they believe in the maxim “Birds of the same feathers flock together”.

Lastly, my trademark characteristic is my being brutally frank. I oftentimes present truth in a sarcastic and satirical manner that people may either laugh at me in amusement or curse me to death for my unpolished tongue. (Thank goodness I’m still alive). I can’t hide what I feel and think. It’s either I speak up or I make faces.

Funny how it seems! At first, I was expressing how uncomfortable I was when introducing myself. But here am, revealing a big slice of my life in front of you. Well, that’s one of my inconsistencies – pretending to be shy, yet possessing a thick skin. I can’t believe I did it.

Now I can sing “I’ve shared a part of my life…and I did it first with you…”

Haikus

Quietness

Alone in this dark

Vast emptiness fills my soul

Let me weep to sleep

Soliloquy

Hey look at yourself

Are you my friend or my foe?

Stop hurting yourself.

The Song That Brought Me to Tears

My new year's day is one great moment for me to reflect on myself. Part of it was finishing the book I had long left - "When God Writes Your Love Story."

I was in a desperate state when I was reading this book which gave me tonnes of hope, something that I should be thankful for.Here is a song, whose melody I still don't know, that made me cry - really really cry to the extent that I found myself sobbing, like a kid gasping for a mouthful of air everytime I inhale. It was written by one of the authors, Eric Ludy.

I am like a deer, You are like the water I run to You, like a son to his Father I felt so alone, like a moth without a flame But You ignited, and to You I came And that's forever. I felt so alone like a ship without a sea But You gave me water, You took my hand and said to me "This is for eternity." I'll never be lonely I'll never be lonely with You I've got this feeling that You're here to stay And I know I'll never be lonely with You.

In Search for Tabun-tabon

It's January 2, Monday, back to work and I have realized I ran out of rice, noodles, canned goods and other basic things for myself.

I decided to go to Manggahan Market to buy those. After buying a few kilos of rice, the wet market caught my attention. It's been a while since I haven't been in the fish section and I love this job - checking for the freshest fish, checking the gills, their scales, check if the weighing scale is OK, if the bulb has no red thing on it, etc. - just don't step on my feet and I'm gonna kill you.

Anyway, I've also missed my favorite kinilaw. It's what my mama and lola always ask from me whenever I get home. They say I prepare the best kinilaw for them. Hehehe. What I think is that they only say it so that I could also have a purpose - and I'm doing it for free.

So I bought one-fourth kilo of tuna. It's a lot cheaper than blue marlin.

The biggest challenge for me was not to look for the freshest tuna. Instead, it was looking for tabun-tabon. I don't know it's local term here but it looks like anonas. It's cut in half and its pulp is scraped to minimize the strong taste of the vinegar. It's a lot better than adding mayonnaise.

To make the long story short, I haven't found one. And nobody knows the local term for it. But I'm still able to prepare kinilaw for myself and for my friends. I know it wouldn't be as delicious as it could be but I've tried.

Bag-ong Tuig

This has been the loneliest new year's day I've ever had in my entire life. Alone in my dark room, I was seated on my bed, thinking what my life has been. I was supposed to cry my sadness and shake all those blues away but then, my system seemed to have dehydration that not a single teardrop could get out of my body. And then I realized, I was supposed to be happy.

It was a few minutes after the clock struck 12 midnight. People had finished with their eardrum-breaking Judas' belt and some other irritating firecrackers. While people outside were busy merry-making, I was in confusion on what my emotion should be on that moment. After several exchanges of SMS messages, I was waiting for a reply from a dear friend. But for whatever reasons, my being so kulit was one of them, she opted to keep silent and I was left on a cliffhanger, my mind wandering, thinking what must she be doing that I should be worried of.

Then everything seemed to stop. I remembered, one person could be lucky in his being alone. In the midst of a very terrible loneliness and worry, I found peace, freedom and refuge inside my quiet room. Not even thinking what drunk people were doing outside, this time, I was having my so-called God Moment again - the time when I only don't know that God is with me but also, when I feel His presence.

I was never a fan of new year's resolutions. Personally, they are just made by people who are only up to plans without thinking of practicabilities whether they could be executed or not. Instead, what I usually do is light a candle, as I gaze at its blinding light, assess how my life was for the past year, thank God for everything, and pray for His guidance for the coming year.

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to buy a candle. Secondly, I didn't feel like doing it. But for something unexplainable, there was a strong force that told me to assess myself and see what are the gifts that I have received this new year's day.

I never received any material thing from anybody. Well, there was one - the black Mossimo shirt that Caro gave me. And I should really be thankful to her for that. But I'm not really a material guy. Cards or simple letters from my loved ones would mean so much for me because behind those constructions of words, I could feel one's sincerity and love for me. Unluckily, I never received one, not even from my Mom and I could understand her for that.

But I still have three things today - respect, friendship and patience. It was a misfortune not to receive world peace but at these times of greed, I don't think it's attainable. Anyway, let me point out each of them.

Respect

It's not for me. I had been so irritated with people teasing me with "Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo (replacing his name with mine)" that that darn Benter authored. But so much for that, I try myself not to be affected by that petty thing. I know myself better than anybody else does so why bother?

Im referring to Batlita, the girl we had been constantly chastizing for her overwhelming alembong. These past week, I realized I was so mean with her, delivering all her quotable lines in public and mimicking some of her gestures. In short, I don't respect her as a woman.

As an only Homo sapiens sapiens with XY chromosomes in an environment of egg cells, I was raced to be extra-sensitive to anybody who carries the female gametes. I grew up witnessing how a woman could fight for her children's life in order to survive in this double-standard society. In addition, though I grew up remembering what a gambler my father was, my mother and sisters still instilled in my mind how a perfect gentleman he was.

If my dad is seeing me right now, would he be proud of me? I don't think so. It's so unbecoming of a good man. If I'll be an example in a Set Theory chapter, I would be included in the majority population of jerks, who think only of the female anatomy, not minding their value as a woman. It is such a shame for me.

I've decided, I had to stop this, before it's too late.

Friendship

Although I'm sad that the girl I really really love does not, will not, and cannot love me back, I'm still thankful to her that we're still friends. To add to that, I feel happier that she trusts me so much by opening up her problems to me without hesitations. I would be lying if I'd say I'm not hurt specially when she talks about her guy but it's our friendship that matters.

I'm just so overprotective with my friends and if I find out that somebody is making a fool of them, then I'm going to haunt that somebody. But for whatever decisions she's gonna be doing, I promised to just be behind her. As a friend, I will be her support. And if she fails, I'll be just behind her to catch her fall.

Patience

This is something that bothers me these past weeks. I've been crying in my sleep, doubting the possibility that Miss Right will come along my way.

I must have forgotten that I had surrendered the pen of my life to God, lifting up everything to Him. Along with that pen is a tale of my own love story. It has long started with my search for her. It may or may not be Pheebs, but I hope it's her, I would still be waiting for her. I'm still 24.

Learning to love my future spouse through patiently waiting, consistently hoping andloving by the high standard to which I have been called is the thing called faithfulness. It is like a tree that patiently endures torid winds and rains only to make itself sturdier every end of each season.

I should be a male Penelope, patiently waiting for my woman to come, preparing my white tapestry as my present to her when she comes.

Very Formal Tuesday

I'm trying to maintain my proper composure today (though I never have one and maintaining something out of nothing is more difficult). I thought it was already clear to all my friends and I that today would be a business attire day. So here I am, walking along the pavement of Eastwood City, Libis, in my yellow longsleeves, khaki slacks and brown shoes and necktie. The last time I was this formal was when I attended the ECE Board Oathtaking Ceremony on December 7, 2003 in Cebu City.

But to my surprise, the MEANies just came in their jeans and shirts. Isn't it unfair? Tapos tinatawanan pa nila ako, including the other TL's? Nakakainis! But then dapat ko na 'tong paninindigan and I have to accept all the humiliation for the entire shift. Basta, guwapo ako today. Hehehe.

I'll be posting my picture later. Basta, I'm the most handsome guy in eTel today. Period. Case closed.

Death Scene in my Mind

I was totally aggrevated yesterday. Hell! I was trying to fuel myself with more energy for the following week by sleeping. Damn! There went again my hatest thing - people singing videoke at the top of their lungs with shitty boosters on. Am I being teased by my destiny, that is, to belong in a very irresponsible neighborhood which doesn't have a single sense of consideration?

So I complained to my sister and aunt since they are owning the place and they have the full right to reprimand their boarders to lower down their system's volume. What the hell was the boarders' reaction? Kesyo I don't know what pakikisama means, kesyo I'm acting like I'm owning the place and I keep on complaining things, kesyo I don't understand them, and worst, kesyo I am a probinsiyano and I don't understand the lifestyle of the people in the metropolis. Shit! The word "silence" and "public disturbance" is always universally defined. Geographical location is never a factor in giving its proper meaning. Bullshit! I may be a promdi but I know what when my right ends and when my responsibility enters. If all of our living principle would be "To do whatever i want to do as long as I don't disturb others," then there's gonna be no trouble in this world.

They're trying to threaten me that kesyo one of the boarders is halang ang bituka. So? Does that mean he's gonna kill me any moment from now on, either being stabbed in my tummy or shot dead on my forehead as I walk along the narrow streets of Old Balara? Fine! Then that's gonna be a full proof that I'm my father's son, that even in our death we have the same fate.

Being murdered is not the death scene in my mind but I won't have a choice in case that will happen to me. How would it feel to have my warm blood flowing out of my body as I feel I'm getting cold in every tick of the clock? Come on, I'm curious. At present, I'm at the point of struggling to fulfill my need to belong and live safely, in the Maslow's hierarchy of needs that is, but if the time is near for me to face the final curtain, I'd certainly say, "I did it my way."

Unstarry, Unstarry Night

I thought Haydee was just kidding when she said that stars don't seem to be visible in Manila. Well, it's not exactly what she said but whatever it is, it's true - that when it comes to stars, the skies of Butuan show more of those glittering heavenly bodies than that of Manila.

I've been here for more than a month but I couldn't remember an evening when the things in the dark sky amaze me. Smogs have covered these nice creations and that makes me sad.

When will the time come when I could sing "Vincent" at the top of my voice on a starry, starry night?

UP

This is Manila and I would be expecting to meet lots of different people from different schools. And then, I would dread to hear the school "U.P." - the school I dreamed of in high school. Sadly, it just turned out only to be a dream. For obvious reasons, I didn't get the chance to enrol in this university even though passing to some scholarship programs would help support my studies.

I hated that time when I had to beg for my mom's approval to let me enrol in UP; that I dared not to speak to her nor with Ate for firmly saying "No" no matter how I cried; that in the middle of every meal, when the topic about my college was opened, I would instantly burst into tears and walk out of the dining table out of disperation; that I felt so helpless that I didn't any choice but to accept the fact that I couldn't go to UP.

Had I given the chance to study in UP, I would have graduated and be a proud person, introducing myself that I am from UP. I could have established a very strong and overwhelming self confidence in me that I don't have to belittle myself.

But what if I might have entered UP but still flunked in my subjects and got kicked out? What if something bad happened to me, may it be that I got killed in a rally (since I am radical-minded), or I might have been transformed to a morally-questionable being, or I might have been addicted to different vices. We can't tell.

Realizing how my life went, I don't have to regret on anything. Life's consolation is always just and fair. Had I studied in UP, I wouldn't have met my friends in Iligan and SJIT. They might not be as mentally gifted as UP people are but they are real people and I would cherish their friendship. Thanks to Fenga, Ate LA, my blockmates and colleagues in ROTC, Ces, Oni, Jesse, Mitch, Atan, Chard, and the rest who made my college life pretty fun and exciting. I would have been a different person now if I was permitted to be a UP moron (maroon). But I still can't get away the feeling that I deserve to belong to that institution.

Things happen for a reason. This is always my concluding sentence. It's true anyway, as what the book of Ecclesiastes tells us. Probably I deserve a school something better than UP - Harvard or Oxford perhaps? I don't know. Who could tell?

Intaglio Printing

Yesterday, I spent the whole morning in the cemetery, cleaning and painting my father's tomb. It's my advance treat for him since i can't visit his grave on All Souls' Day.

What took most of my time was applying gold paint on his epitaph. It reminds me of my Humanities class way back in college. I've learned from Sir Pinili that this kind of printing is called intaglio, the opposite technique used in relief printing (e.g. rubber stamp). I should say I'm not good at it since my work was quite messy plus my back ached so much. I also don't have enough patience to do it but well, I've stretched it farther for my dad.

Going farther

Unlike other religions, we, Roman Catholics, celebrate All Souls Day. I personally believe that though these people are already dead, their spirits are still roaming around since the final judgment hasn't happened yet. I know that my father is always beside me. I even speak with him in my sleep and I feel his presence especially when I need him. With those numerous instances that I need help, I know he was there. I might have cried once in my sleep, telling him that he was so unfair in leaving me so early, and that I didn't have a father figure when I grew up, I'm still thankful that I could communicate with him in my dreams.

Everything happens for a reason, and I know that. His death had proved us so many things - that I have a mother who is more than willing to give up her life for all of us, that I have a sister who has sacrificed even her personal relationships for us, that we could survive even without the help of other relatives, that we are strong, that we are independent, that we are survivors.

Smokers

I just don't know what's the problem with those people who smoke inside the jeepney. It's either they're so insensitive or they are just dumb that they don't know how to read the no-smoking sign or they don't know the rules even. And what's with the law that is not imposed? Enforcers seem to be inutile that I didn't hear anybody caught for violating the city ordinance prohibiting people from smoking in public vehicles.

I don't know how to deal with them. I've thought that actions would speak louder than words and a stabbing stare to those violators would stop them from puffing that useless stick and exhaling it out of their mouths but they are really stupid and insensitive.

Sometimes, if I got some nerve, I tell them to their face to stop from smoking since I find it hard to breathe (yeah I'm asthmatic and I hate smoke). And most (not all) listen and throw away their stick.

But there was one instance when I was going to Buenavista that an old man thought he was alone in the jeepney and kept on puffing cigarette not knowing that there were some kids, a pregnant woman, and an asthmatic guy beside him. I politely told him to save his cigarette the moment he arrives to his destination but he was acting like he didn't hear me at all. I wish that someday, I would have the guts to hand these kinds of persons a one-peso coin or even two pesos to let him stop from smoking.

Or else, I could pay for his fare and tell the driver to drop him along the way. I wish I could do that.

The Phantom of the Opera

I've seen "The Phantom of the Opera" days ago and it was then that I knew its plot. The phantom is the antagonist who tries to win a girl's love, which is highly improbable since she is in love with her childhood sweetheart. His personality is so mysterious that I could hardly fathom his depth. I think he's a ghost (lol). Pardon me but I'm not a literature graduate so I may I have a different perspective about the story.

I could relate to him in the sense that our love are both unreciprocated... and that we're both genius. Ha ha ha. Just kidding. But I've realized lately that it's impossible to win somebody's heart no matter how hard you try to please him/her.

I'm just quite annoyed with the audio because their vocals are softer than the accompaniment. And sometimes, the score is so loud that I had to minimize the volume of our system since my nephew was so scared.

Realization after watching the movie: I don't think I would go to the point of attempting to kill the man she desires. I'm not a sore loser, I guess and I still have the talents and intellect that I could use for my personal growth and for the development of my society and I may possess traits that a woman may like. I just have to be patient and optimistic about everything. In the end, real love would blossom and make me happy.

Life is something that would amaze us when we least expect it.

Oktoberfest Na!

So?