Lunes, Agosto 27, 2012
Tawanan Muna (Remembering the Past)
The thing speaks for itself. Nag - trending din ito nuon. Even got published in one of Bob Ong's books.
Linggo, Agosto 26, 2012
Stories for the Heart
Sharing two of my favorite poems and an excerpt from Paolo Coelho.
Poem by Mitsuo Aida
Because it has lived its life intensely
the parched grass still attracts the gaze of passers-by,
The flowers merely flower,
and they do this as well as they can.
The white lily, blooming unseen in the valley,
Does not need to explain itself to anyone;
It lives merely for beauty.
Men, however, cannot accept that 'merely'
If tomatoes wanted to be melons,
they would look completely ridiculous.
I am always amazed
that so many people are concerned
with wanting to be what they are not;
what's the point of making yourself look ridiculous?
You don't always have to pretend to be strong,
there's no need to prove all the time that everything is going well,
you shouldn't be concerned about what other people are thinking,
cry if you need to,
it's good to cry out all your tears
(because only then will you be able to smile again).
the parched grass still attracts the gaze of passers-by,
The flowers merely flower,
and they do this as well as they can.
The white lily, blooming unseen in the valley,
Does not need to explain itself to anyone;
It lives merely for beauty.
Men, however, cannot accept that 'merely'
If tomatoes wanted to be melons,
they would look completely ridiculous.
I am always amazed
that so many people are concerned
with wanting to be what they are not;
what's the point of making yourself look ridiculous?
You don't always have to pretend to be strong,
there's no need to prove all the time that everything is going well,
you shouldn't be concerned about what other people are thinking,
cry if you need to,
it's good to cry out all your tears
(because only then will you be able to smile again).
Sabado, Agosto 25, 2012
Room 223
As I lay down in
room 223, I started to count every living thing in the ceiling just to
temporarily forget the horrors I am going to face after 4hours. I ceased
counting when all I can see is a bunch of lizards, chasing each other
and some moving things occupying the same space I am in. One particular
lizard or "butiki" as we may call it, caught my attention when he (i am
presuming its a male) ran fast and bit another lizard. I was wondering
what the dismembered lizard felt after his tail is devoured like a
quarter of lamb chops in a cozy fine dining resto (cue pyscho music!).
The immediate need for survival is the first thing that crossed my mind.
The lizard ran away to save his other limb from the predator lizard who
looks like jigsaw to me ready to play a game (SAW 7 is coming!) Every
time I hear someone knock, I feel like jumping out of the window and be
gone forever. Someone will get a blood sample again. Invade my veins
again with the needles I never dreamed of meeting.
Its 7 in the morning. The sun is high and so am i. I removed all my clothes and wore the hospital gown which I would not dare to wear even if its designed by Ralph or Oscar. When I entered the room, the bladed silvery shiny objects greeted me with audacity. I lay down on the squishy bed again after the nurse told me to. The wait is an agony in the garden but without the third-degree burned man who considers temptation, a hobby. I prayed to God. I prayed that I will be alive after the castigation. I called Hippocrates and requested him to be present before I am going to be sliced.
I woke up an hour after. I am alive! Shocked that I cannot feel my lower body, I panicked. I felt like a totem pole being severed into pieces. A person being dismembered, and fly at night strolling to look for a victim. (insert manananggal annoying laugh!). But the ultimate victim is the nurse I called and harassed big time! (poor nurse, forgive me). He exclaimed that I am perfectly normal. Oh, with the state and the place I am soaked into, I cannot summon normalcy anymore. Anyway, I am brought back to my wonderful room complete with a liter of fear and an ounce of irritation, but compensated with tons of support from my family and friends inside.
When my friends are gone, I decided to offer my boredom to the television in front of me. Turned it on. Scanned for channels and ended up watching the favorite drama slash noontime show! (I could not just fathom why other studio players are forcing their tear ducts to bleed). The host in "Wowowee" distracted my already disturbed mind. I thought of the gyrating girls while the show is on. I thought of their linens which covered their glutathionized skin, and the too abbreviated panties punctuating the area, where no syntax error can be committed in describing it. When the game show punchline is effective, that is also the time when I can remember that I was slashed hours ago. Its painful. I love pain, it makes me feel that I am alive but not this level of pain I felt, aggravated by the pain I have, every time I hear the host of the show trash talk and inundate the floor with all the nonsense you could ever imagine.
Five Days. Five long days inside the white painted room. Five long days inside the detention cell minus the orange suit and the handcuffs. Five days without the grooming. I stink already that even the average local fly would not dare to touchdown. I miss life already. I miss the scorching sun. I miss Mr. street smart. Sleeping at night is a chore. But not just like any chore the Monday or Tuesday Cleaners would get. Its an extraordinary chore every time I move and stand. I felt like I was wearing a straitjacket with the little possibility of movement. Wait, did I mention the tube inserted in my elixir of life? That made my locomotion worst. I abhor that tube. It made me think of Alighieri and his Inferno.
I can see white people going in and out of my room. Some of them are nice and friendly yet some of them are naturally annoying. Some of them even asked "Sir, how many times ka po naka-ihi this day?" OK. Ask the tube if it can talk. haha. or take this, "Sir, mga ilang baso kaya sa tantya niyo ihi niyo po ngayon?" OK. First, the first time I learned how to pee, It never crossed my mind to measure it with a glass and second, how on earth can I measure it when the tube made me feel detached from my excretory system?
But on the lighter side, some of them are courteous, friendly and sensitive enough to know my state. One of them took care of me when my body is engulfed with fever. That nurse persisted in checking my temperature, add that up with the smile which made me happy.
When the doctor told me that I can go out if I can produce the magical gas, I prayed again to the almighty to send some gas. But not just any other gas. A friendly gas to hover inside me and find its way out to instant stardom! (well, talk about the attention it gets after its out). The Divine Provider then answered my prayer. It came out in full blast which made Hurt Locker disappointed. I informed my brother about it and then he told my doctor. Of course, my doctor arrived with the big news! I am going out! Thank Heavens! I just want to be out from here. The place made me recall of not-so-beautiful things in my past. The place made me smell stinking death more than the aroma of life which automatically depressed my olfactory sensation.
It was Monday afternoon. My schedule to go home. I stood up and went to the mirror. I combed my hair. The oil in my hair is already at par with those of Iran and the peaceful country of Iraq (well, that's another story). I removed the protective gown which could let people see and invade your kingdom. I washed my face then wore real clothes. I waited for the clearing before I can go out. I was on a wheel chair when I went out of the room (this made me look even more fragile). I was greeted by the nurses in their station. One of them said, "sir, i will miss you". I replied, "you will really miss me for I assure you I will never go back" and they laughed.
I will surely treasure everything that happened. My brother and our helper who never left me. My brother who was there for me in spite of the workload he has to finish and despite of the sweating when buying medicines downstairs. Our helper who traveled from our house and back for the errands. My brother in Ireland who never failed to check my state. The wife of my brother who assured me of the prayers for my immediate healing. My nephews and nieces who were there to lighten the yoke I felt. Tita Jan who was there to make me smile. She also handed me a small book talking about courage and hope which I read few minutes before the surgery. My father who is always there for me and proved to me that loving his children cuts across seas and oceans and that proximity will not always complete the fatherly affection. My friends who visited before and after the surgery which made me happy, although happiness at that time is an understatement. I did not expect so many friends inside the room who gave up a fraction of their precious time just to visit me. And most importantly, the Almighty who gave me the second chance to live and the second chance to appreciate life and take good care of it. Today, every time I look at my scar, It always reminds me of one thing: that two years ago, my life was changed in Room 223.
Its 7 in the morning. The sun is high and so am i. I removed all my clothes and wore the hospital gown which I would not dare to wear even if its designed by Ralph or Oscar. When I entered the room, the bladed silvery shiny objects greeted me with audacity. I lay down on the squishy bed again after the nurse told me to. The wait is an agony in the garden but without the third-degree burned man who considers temptation, a hobby. I prayed to God. I prayed that I will be alive after the castigation. I called Hippocrates and requested him to be present before I am going to be sliced.
I woke up an hour after. I am alive! Shocked that I cannot feel my lower body, I panicked. I felt like a totem pole being severed into pieces. A person being dismembered, and fly at night strolling to look for a victim. (insert manananggal annoying laugh!). But the ultimate victim is the nurse I called and harassed big time! (poor nurse, forgive me). He exclaimed that I am perfectly normal. Oh, with the state and the place I am soaked into, I cannot summon normalcy anymore. Anyway, I am brought back to my wonderful room complete with a liter of fear and an ounce of irritation, but compensated with tons of support from my family and friends inside.
When my friends are gone, I decided to offer my boredom to the television in front of me. Turned it on. Scanned for channels and ended up watching the favorite drama slash noontime show! (I could not just fathom why other studio players are forcing their tear ducts to bleed). The host in "Wowowee" distracted my already disturbed mind. I thought of the gyrating girls while the show is on. I thought of their linens which covered their glutathionized skin, and the too abbreviated panties punctuating the area, where no syntax error can be committed in describing it. When the game show punchline is effective, that is also the time when I can remember that I was slashed hours ago. Its painful. I love pain, it makes me feel that I am alive but not this level of pain I felt, aggravated by the pain I have, every time I hear the host of the show trash talk and inundate the floor with all the nonsense you could ever imagine.
Five Days. Five long days inside the white painted room. Five long days inside the detention cell minus the orange suit and the handcuffs. Five days without the grooming. I stink already that even the average local fly would not dare to touchdown. I miss life already. I miss the scorching sun. I miss Mr. street smart. Sleeping at night is a chore. But not just like any chore the Monday or Tuesday Cleaners would get. Its an extraordinary chore every time I move and stand. I felt like I was wearing a straitjacket with the little possibility of movement. Wait, did I mention the tube inserted in my elixir of life? That made my locomotion worst. I abhor that tube. It made me think of Alighieri and his Inferno.
I can see white people going in and out of my room. Some of them are nice and friendly yet some of them are naturally annoying. Some of them even asked "Sir, how many times ka po naka-ihi this day?" OK. Ask the tube if it can talk. haha. or take this, "Sir, mga ilang baso kaya sa tantya niyo ihi niyo po ngayon?" OK. First, the first time I learned how to pee, It never crossed my mind to measure it with a glass and second, how on earth can I measure it when the tube made me feel detached from my excretory system?
But on the lighter side, some of them are courteous, friendly and sensitive enough to know my state. One of them took care of me when my body is engulfed with fever. That nurse persisted in checking my temperature, add that up with the smile which made me happy.
When the doctor told me that I can go out if I can produce the magical gas, I prayed again to the almighty to send some gas. But not just any other gas. A friendly gas to hover inside me and find its way out to instant stardom! (well, talk about the attention it gets after its out). The Divine Provider then answered my prayer. It came out in full blast which made Hurt Locker disappointed. I informed my brother about it and then he told my doctor. Of course, my doctor arrived with the big news! I am going out! Thank Heavens! I just want to be out from here. The place made me recall of not-so-beautiful things in my past. The place made me smell stinking death more than the aroma of life which automatically depressed my olfactory sensation.
It was Monday afternoon. My schedule to go home. I stood up and went to the mirror. I combed my hair. The oil in my hair is already at par with those of Iran and the peaceful country of Iraq (well, that's another story). I removed the protective gown which could let people see and invade your kingdom. I washed my face then wore real clothes. I waited for the clearing before I can go out. I was on a wheel chair when I went out of the room (this made me look even more fragile). I was greeted by the nurses in their station. One of them said, "sir, i will miss you". I replied, "you will really miss me for I assure you I will never go back" and they laughed.
I will surely treasure everything that happened. My brother and our helper who never left me. My brother who was there for me in spite of the workload he has to finish and despite of the sweating when buying medicines downstairs. Our helper who traveled from our house and back for the errands. My brother in Ireland who never failed to check my state. The wife of my brother who assured me of the prayers for my immediate healing. My nephews and nieces who were there to lighten the yoke I felt. Tita Jan who was there to make me smile. She also handed me a small book talking about courage and hope which I read few minutes before the surgery. My father who is always there for me and proved to me that loving his children cuts across seas and oceans and that proximity will not always complete the fatherly affection. My friends who visited before and after the surgery which made me happy, although happiness at that time is an understatement. I did not expect so many friends inside the room who gave up a fraction of their precious time just to visit me. And most importantly, the Almighty who gave me the second chance to live and the second chance to appreciate life and take good care of it. Today, every time I look at my scar, It always reminds me of one thing: that two years ago, my life was changed in Room 223.
Oldie but Goldie and Some happiness on the side and Recalling to do.
As the saying goes: "some good things never lasts." However, there are a few who are exception to the rule. Take for example one of my favorite chicken houses in the city, Goldie, who have withstand the tests of time. Located in Amgar Plaza, Ilustre St. Corner San Pedro St., this diner smells antiquity with its old electric fans and fading color paints but their taste is still fresh and genuine. Customers come and go but employees remained loyal to their job. I have fond memories in this place serving my hunger pangs since college up to the present time with its affordable prices.
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| sulit sa lahat |
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| simple pleasures |
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| sarap to the bones |
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| goldie now and the next |
Lunes, Agosto 20, 2012
Inspiration
In life, we get lost. In life, we stray from our paths in search of deeper meaning only to realize in the end that we are on the right path all along. We are surrounded by experiences that neither make us or break us. God has given us the option to choose and yet sometimes, we fail to choose wisely. Nevertheless, our God is a merciful God and so he sends his angels to lift not only our physical well being but our spirits as well. Life wants us to learn, to enjoy, to breathe whats is in store for us. Everything is written in the skies as well as in the palm of our hands. I came across this book when Life was its bleakest and his insights have given me the wisdom to stand up and go on with Life. An excerpt from the book by Og Mandino and Buddy Kaye, The Gift of Acabar.
CREDENDA
Concentrate your energy. To be everywhere is to be nowhere. Be jealous of your time, since it is your greatest treasure. Reconsider your goals. Before your set your heart too much on anything, examine how happy they are who already possess what you desire. Love your family and count your blessings. Reflect how eagerly they would be sought if you did not have them. Put aside your impossible dreams and complete the task at hand no matter how distasteful. All great achievement comes from working and waiting.
Be patient. God's delays are never God's denials. Hold on. Hold fast. Know that your paymaster is always near. What you sow, good or evil that you will reap. Never blame your condition on others. You are what you are through your choice alone. Learn to live with honest poverty, if you must, and turn to more important matters than transporting gold to your grave.
Never meet trouble half way. Anxiety is the rust of life; when you add tomorrow's burden to today's, their weight becomes unbearable. Avoid the mourner’s bench and give thanks instead for your defeats; you would not have them if you did not need them. Always learn from others. He who teaches himself has a fool for a master.
Be careful. Do not overload your conscience. Conduct your life as if it were spent in an arena filled with tattlers. Avoid boasting, If you see anything in you that buffs you with pride, look closer and you will find more than enough to make you humble.
Be wise. Realize that all men are not created equal, for there is no equality in nature, yet no man was ever born whose work was not born with him. Work everyday as if it were your first, yet tenderly treat the lives you touch as if they will end at midnight. Love everyone, even those who deny you, for hate is a luxury you cannot afford. Seek out those in need. Learn that he who delivers with one hand will gather with two. Be of good cheer.
Above all, remember that very little is needed to make a happy life. Look up. Reach out. Cling simply to God and journey quietly on your pathway to forever with charity and a smile. When you depart it will be said that your legacy was a better world than the one that you found.
Instagramming!
Count me in, I am one of the millions of addicts of Instagram. Before, I use to view my friends and celebrities picture through my twitter receiving updates of photos through instagram. When I got hold of my second hand itouch, paid in two installments schemes, I first downloaded Temple Run which got me hooked. When I got the instagram including the picstitch and freecollage program I became an addict. Luckily, I don't have a wifi at home or else Ill be taking pictures of every nook and cranny of our apartment and upload my finds. Whats nice about instagram is it provides the user options to further enhance their snapshots making it more pleasing to the eyes and refreshing to the soul (naks!) Here are some pics.
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| Thanks to some ironing |
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| The Bringer of Good News |
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| The Road Less and More Travelled |
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| Dance! |
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| Sino siya? |
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| Durian Overload |
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| A friendly face |
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| My sisters take on breakfast |
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| Pangtawid Gutom |
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| Add a dot and you have multiple eyes |
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| Lunch |
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| My languid cat |
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| Dinner |
Sabado, Agosto 18, 2012
Touristas (Kadayawan Float Parade 2012)
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| My UP Friends this is for you |
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| Nakalimutan ata ng Tatay ko po na hindi na sala namin ang aming pupuntahan |
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| Love their smiles |
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| Sakay sakay lang |
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| Ang durian ay parang fetus |
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| Thank You Lord for keeping our place safe |
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| Amen! |
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| Si Ate na sa mga ulo. |
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| The Bored Little Drummer Boy |
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| YMCA - sing! |
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| Ana lang - maski pawis na kinembot pa rin! Saludo ako sa iyo ate! |
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| Hmmm, I wonder what it feels to be royalty? |
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| Tamarraw: "Lets kick some butt!" |
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| my butingtings surviving the times |
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| Holding hands while standing, no swaying lang |
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| May halimaw kaya sa Banga? |
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| Kelan pa kaya ito matatapos? |
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| Koya, akin na kwintas mo! |
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| Beautiful |
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| The Red Heads? |
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| Sigaw ng Kabataan: "KADAYAWAN!" - bow |
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| Isang kanin at ulam 2GO pls - naks! |
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| Namuti na sya sa kakahintay! |
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| Our neighboring friends |
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| Cultural Diversity |
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| Parang Rio lang |
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| Balancing Game |
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| Prince of Balance |
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| Prinsipe ng Balanse |
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| Princess of Balance |
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| The Balancers |
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| Mao na na! |
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| Nice |
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| Aryana ikaw ba yan? |
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| Float Bow |
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| Pangtawid Gutom |
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| This is for you my friends abroad - Pinya - bawal sa maasim ang mukha |
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| This is for you my friends abroad - Lansones - free uric acid |
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| This is for you my friends abroad - Mangosteen - baka may capsule na yan sa loob |
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| This is for you my friends abroad - Parang napagod din ang mga Rambutan |
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| Kunwari first time mo nakakita ng helicopter - ONOOOOO lannnng! |
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| Ayos! 4 thumbs up! |
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| Si koya baka natakot magka dengue |
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| Homes |
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| Lip Rayt Lip! - Kinsa ang dili shine shoes diha |
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| Pretty sila - Laway mode! |
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| Bektoryas Sikret? |
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| Time to Sterilize |
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| Ganda |
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| This is my favorite |
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| Retro Chic |
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| Our Brothers in Arms |
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| ana lang si koya - choi choi lang |
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| Festive |
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| Kakalabas ko lang po sa Pagamutan. Pasensyahan na |
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| Paul Jake nag Float ka pa. Ang taas taas - di ka na appreciate. Hello po Sto. Nino |
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| Sen Zubiri and Rep Casino was friendly - Too early for campaign? |
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| Artistas |
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| Artistas |
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| Veterans |
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| President Of Happiness |
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| Artistas |
Sunny Skies. Less Contigents. More People. Beautiful Floats equals Parade. Hope you enjoyed my snapshots.
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