Happy Endings

photo from darryldesigns.blogspot.com

A sporadic friend unexpectedly disconnects again. Weeks later, I get an apologetic message from her saying she has secretly flown to Singapore to try her luck. Armed with only her laptop and a decade of developmental work experience, I am certain she will be able to fend for herself. Well she should be, her best friend lives there.

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3 months ago, a friend inconspicuously became a father. The text message “Sorry sa surprise” awoke me from dreamland. It was both a happy and astounding news for us friends. How he never told a soul, I presume prudence was the name of the game. Why talk when nobody asks? 3 days ago, he has already gone off to the capital with his look-alike daughter to join his new wife and start a new life – that of temporarily becoming a full-time father and husband!

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Over lunch yesterday, a friend has opened up about her ongoing annulment case. She seemed fine. She’s already friends with her ex and thankfully, their daughter has quite some EQ as well. The little girl said it’s okay for her mom to look for a new boyfriend, but only after the annulment gets done. Cool.

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Last night, a friend confided to us that hopefully by next year, when her husband’s overseas contract becomes stable, she and their 2 kids might join him in the Middle East for even just a year, or just before the kids start school. The thought excites her. She looks forward to the moment of time that her hardworking husband would also be able to experience firsthand their young children’s early growing years. Oh how sweet.

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On Monday, I will be witnessing an intimate wedding of another friend who had been ecstatic of marching down the aisle, probably even before she could learn how to walk. I am truly happy for her for she has finally found the man who has dreamt of her to become his bride. May they live happily ever after.

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I have yet to find my own ending, too. Wish it’ll be happy, as endings are beginnings of beautiful things. Ew.

Maling Akala

I was accompanying a couple of friends inside a boutique when suddenly a sales lady came up and tactlessly asked me if the blouse she was holding would fit me. Surprised, all I could mutter was “Ha?” and the sales lady babbled on with “That lady over there is asking if this would fit you as she thinks you’re about the same size with the one she’s giving this to”. Still I could not figure it out, it was already my friend who replied “Yes, it would fit her.”

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Heard over the news tonight that the Supreme Court finally acquitted Hubert Webb and the rest of the accused in the sensational Vizconde Massacre after having been imprisoned for 15 years. I didn’t know how to react. Certainly I feel for Mr. Lauro Vizconde but somehow over the years, I have also become a fan of Pinky Webb (Hubert’s newcaster sis). Quite a conflict there, huh?

It was also weird listening to Pinky de Leon (mother of Tonyboy Lejano, one of the accused) who kept saying “Hindi natutulog and Panginoon namin.” Hey, He’s my God too!

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With the Vizconde suspects’ unexpected release, I recall a funny story back in 1979. We have then just moved in to our newly built home in a suburban village in Mandaue. Can’t remember how the story really started but one day, rumors came out in the neighborhood that a group of robbers would attack our village. And worst was that pretty housewives were going to be mercilessly raped by them! Fearing for her dear life, an American man’s kept woman who lived across us actually hired her own security guard for safety reasons. What an amusing way of claiming one’s beauty! Thankfully, the robbers never came. They must have set higher standards on their would-be-victims.

Finding Me

If you can spot me in the picture above, well try again. Because no matter how you look at it, you’ll never find me in there. This photo was taken during my Kindergarten 2 graduation back in 1977.

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Backstory: Earlier during the school year, our adviser, Sr. Lina taught us how to answer discreetly the inevitable call of nature by letting us wear a whistle instead of raising our hand and announce it to the whole class when the need arises.

After our graduation rites, all K2 graduates were called back to assemble inside the classroom for the required class picture taking. It was also at this point that the so-called call of nature indiscreetly invited me. And so as we’ve been trained the whole school year, I went on to get the whistle from its usual place, wore it securely on my neck and ran inside the comfort room to relieve myself. When I got out, my classmates were already scrambling to get back to their waiting parents outside while I still have to rush back inside the classroom to put back the whistle before I myself could run back to my waiting parents too.

When the pictures were distributed, I was so excited to show it to my mother who kept on asking, “Where are you? How come you’re not in the picture?” It was only then I realized what had happened earlier. See that blank space somewhere in the middle row? That’s where I’m supposed to be at.

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Fastforward to 10 years later: It almost happened again during my 4th year in high school. We were scheduled for a class pictorial a few days before graduation and have already been told of our designated places beforehand. On that particular day and time, I wonder what got into my teacher’s head that she still had to make me run an errand for her. I could no longer remember what it was. The only thing I had in mind then was how to get at the pictorial on time. I kept telling myself I had to be in that picture! What happened in K2 shouldn’t happen ever again! So I ran back as fast as I could and found the whole class all set for the camera. I had to shout at the photographer: “Wait! Please wait for me!” He waited all right, but directed me instead to stand at the farthest end to the right behind our teacher. I was still breathing heavily when I heard the camera click.

Take a peek at the picture below and look for that blank space somewhere in the 3rd row. That’s where I’m supposed to be at, again.

Sweet Defeat

It has been a 6-year 4-month battle. Battle that involved financial woes and emotional investments between me and my former employer – name withheld to put off extra profit-making exposure.

Six years ago, they deliberately took away my security of tenure and my 14th month pay. I tried raising the issue but I was instead reprimanded. 3 years after, they again took everything else leaving just my basic pay, I was devastated.

Three months prior to the Project’s actual closure, we were briefly informed of our imminent predicament that was known as the infamous September 30. I was at the threshold of putting off to waste the dozen years I have spent with them. A group of friends and colleagues came together to come up with an inquiry letter for the company on our employment status. A number of agitating written exchanges came up that caused unwanted drama on my part, being the group’s designated email sender and receiver. If the company’s stand on our claims was unyielding, ours was unwavering too. It was such an upsetting period that it scared me even just to wake up, until I woke up 1 day and was verbally offered a 6-digit so called “end-of-project-bonus”! Why the sudden change of strategy? Were they finally bothered or alarmed of what we legitimately claimed that now they’re trying to buy us out? “No, no, we’ve been working this out for the last 2 years.” – says the boss. Oh how ungentlemanly of you to own up all the credit that comes with all these obviously deceiving intentions.

With the sufficient amount being offered, I was already about to concede if not for another blunder coming from them. They wanted us to sign a quitclaim/waiver that totally eliminates our previous lawful claims. If that is the case, then it wasn’t really a “bonus” after all. We had no choice but to go on with the battle, legally. It was also at this point that true colors emerged from so-called “friends”. As one colleague puts it – “money changes everything”. Sad but true.

We are still in battle. From the original group of 6, now remains only 3 determined persons. Bargaining is still being worked on for the next 2 weeks. Bargaining that have somehow optimistically resulted to:

1) unexpected “bonuses” for the majority of the staff;
2) an unanticipated budget cut from the company;
3) quite a large sum of unpredicted legal fees; and conceivably
4) an apparently stressed-out management team.

Perhaps in due time, I might get my own share too. It may not be as much as I originally estimated but what the heck, it could still be more than enough for me to get by until I find myself a decent new work. I may never be able to buy that expensive Macbook Pro or even that Pab Der Uomo loafers I’ve been drooling on for months but who cares? My colleagues’ accidental bonus, the unforeseen budget cut, the hefty lawyers’ fees and most of all, the annoying stress we have created for the management – all of these can never be replaced by any amount of consumable cash. This, for me is the sweetest thing despite not winning all of it.

Close Encounter With Pacman

(illustration by Joshua Cabrera)

Feb. 21,2009, past 12nn, NAIA Terminal 3

I was at the airport on my way to Busuanga when Manny “Pacman” Pacquiao suddenly walked in followed by a bevy of police bodyguards and cameramen. He was headed to a waiting plane for GenSan (which I found out later in the news, his newborn baby girl was going to be baptized that same day). It seemed everyone else just stopped and cleared the way for this ordinary looking but well-dressed man. Obviously the guy seemed to enjoy the attention as well. I noticed the people around were so excited to see him. I myself, who wasn’t really a big fan, was thrilled to see another celebrity just the same (I saw Denise Laurel and John Prats earlier). Everything else just seemed to happen so fast, suddenly he was already walking towards my direction. Unfortunately I didn’t have enough time to dig out neither my digicam nor my celfone from my bag and he was already in front of me! Good thing I was still able to think quickly, confidently offered my hand and blurted out to him “Doc Manny, congrats!” And automatically he shook my hand without even stopping and was already a few steps away when he looked back at me and grinned, pointing his forefinger at me and said “Hehe”. I bet he knew at that instant I was from Cebu. Why? Because only Cebuanos perhaps knew he became a “doctor” (haha!) earlier that month, having been awarded an honorary doctorate degree in human kinetics by the South Western University.

He went straight to the departure area and just like all other celebrities or high-ranking officials, he didn’t go through the usual strict security check, how much more bother to take off his shoes and have them run through the xrays? And the guards on duty? Oh they were even more than happy just to see the boxing great pass through them. Who cares? After all, he is the “people’s champ”, remember?

I could only wonder who these “people” really are.

reposted from lesliestinapay.tumblr.com

For Art's Sake

I am no artist. Honestly, I do not know how to draw by freehand. I do not know how to play around with colors. Neither do I have those creative eyes nor imagination. Lastly, I just simply do not know how to be one. Ironically though, I do it for a living and it has been feeding me for the last 18 years.

As a young high school student, I was as scatterbrained as a dead cat. My only concern then for college was how to get into UP for the sake of not being strictly tied up with the traditional mini skirts and high heeled shoes from other schools. Luckily, I managed to be accepted and even luckier I was already enrolled when the Fine Arts Program adviser found out I had not been asked to take the required talent exam for all new students. Everyday for the next 5 years, I trembled each time I’d get into any drawing class. No matter how great my Techniques teacher was, I just didn’t have those gifted hands like other students had. A cocky teacher even embarrassed me in front of our class by saying, “What’s your problem? You don’t know how to draw?” I had to keep myself from asking him back “Is that why you’re an abstractionist yourself, Sir?” You could only imagine how relieved I was to finally get out of art school after 5 long years.

And so as expected, I have made a career in the field of arts, specifically as a graphic designer. I spent 4 tiresome but exciting years in the local advertising world. My perfectionist boss taught me how to get into the real world. I hardly remember anything I’ve created that she had ever praised. But despite those veiled rejections, I am still grateful to her for everything that I’ve learned in the business – aesthetically and professionally speaking – for I have come to love my chosen profession.

Oddly, my next 12 years were spent in an unexciting environment yet with an unusually energetic new boss. Each time I submitted an artwork, all I could hear from her is “That’s great!” – until it already made me puke! In fairness though, I also learned a lot from her and I will always be thankful as well.

I lost my job a month ago but I must say the aphorism is true – that when God closes the door, He opens windows – because a week after my last day, a supplier wanted to engage me on some lay outing projects. I had no other choice but to accept it in order to get by. The thing is, my client is rather strange. He asks me to create a new and replace their outdated logo, instructs me to go ahead and play around with anything I could come up with and when I show him my works, he bluntly tells me “Is this all you could do? You know, you should ask me what I want because you don’t exactly know what I want. Blah blah blah!” Yeah, right. “So what is it then that really you like, Sir?”

I am back in the real world, I guess. Or should I just say, “It’s a jungle out there!”

Words

Words used to come out at such unlikely moments – while I’m in transit or during a bath or in the middle of the night, when I’d suddenly jump out of bed and reach out for a pen and paper (usually accumulated receipts from my wallet) and just jot them down till they all come into place. Sometimes, (especially when the signal’s full) I just go ahead and encode them instantly but most of the time, it takes the whole day for me to write and rewrite these ambushed thoughts. It has been a while since I last had an attack of words. October was supposedly an emotional month for me but words just didn’t show up like they always do. I don’t know why.

Today, November 7th – again at such an unlikely moment (while washing my delicate undies) – words unexpectedly flowed out along with the water coming out from the faucet. I had to rush before they run down the drain. And so here I am again, updating my fanless blog, trying hard to fill up the emptiness I’ve felt the past days. When, where and how they come next, I certainly have no idea. It just feels a lot better every time they get out.

Facts of Life

My friend B says she’s fed up driving her bulky Isuzu Sportivo and longs for a smaller car instead. She walks into a mall and sees a huge Mitsubishi Montero on display and exclaims “Hala, mao ni ako gusto!”

Huh?

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I wait for a taxi to come by after working my ass off for the last 15 hours and a relaxing taxi driver bugs me with “Asa man ka ‘day?”. Concealing my irritation, I calmly replied “Consolacion”. Suddenly out of nowhere, a lady butts in and proudly tells me “Way Lacion diri oy, didto ra sa unahan!” She was referring to the jeepney route.

Ouch!

A Fish Called Janna

Photo: My friend Janna at age 5

A fishy little girl named Janna, who frequents my tiny but perennially jam-packed aquarium located somewhere in the left tower, is leisurely building a career of her own in our waterless Water World. Lunchtime never goes on uninterrupted whenever she comes around. All human senses, including those pretending to be human, constantly seize a brief hiatus, if only to welcome eagerly the much-awaited daily arrival of this precocious little creature. As if an old-fashioned gentleman, everyone else in the room attempts to offer her a seat but they always end up frustrated, for she oddly prefers standing. Her mother Astrid voluntarily accepts the offers but unfortunately, these offers expire as quickly as the outlandish Janna refuses them.

Barely five months ago, as the school year started, Janna had been re-introduced by her mother to this waterless Water World I am connected with. “Re-introduced”, for much earlier, and for reasons one could hardly fathom, the girl projected nothing else but an ambiguous character. She detested socializing with the other and much bigger fishes in the aquatic setting of our waterless Water World. No spectacular antics can ever snatch her interest. Not even the sweetest smile nor candy our waterless Water World can offer, can draw her intangible attention away from her own mysterious planet. Definitely, this was one child so hard to please. Janna was such a snob you’d presume she was blind, deaf, mute or something. When I finally spotted that elusive funny bone in her, I found out she was really something.

In those days, Janna blatantly exuded an air of intriguing vagueness. Smitten by her virtual nonexistence, and snoopy as I am, I struggled to figure out why this little girl’s cold-shoulder treatment on everyone else emitted challenge on my part. It took me awhile to understand this strange behavior and realized only a few months later that the girl’s snootiness reminded me of someone else. Aside from the likeness of our hair, suddenly I could identify with her. Trying to recall from the past, I remember having been rebuked often by friends of this now familiar peculiarity. Little by little, the girl’s alleged vagueness was getting clearer each day. Until I finally sensed that seeing her was like seeing MYSELF for the first time, from someone else’s eyes! I wonder what took me so long?

Sensing our amusing similarities, it was easier for me this time to get hold of her attention, and at last, hit it off well with her. My secret weapon? Well, how else is it to get through a child’s heart but to offer her toys? And loads of toys I’ve got. (I’m probably the only one left among the Water World populace who still believes in the power of toys.)

Since then, my lethargic third quarter afternoons were spent bonding with her. Conversations nobody dared to broaden. Games nobody dared to play. In short, Janna and I were often left without a choice but to deal with each other. Spending long hours together, we have created an unusual performance, which unfortunately, irritates any wary spectator. I would stand about two meters away from her, with my feet securely braced on the floor, and clap my hands twice. Pak! Pak! Off she runs, then jumps towards me as I catch her with my geared up arms, simultaneously with her own arms spread wide, legs curled backwards and head turned up as high as she can. I have to sustain that temporary strength for she takes a long time putting an end to our infamous circus act. Her legs are still curled up, my arms still shaking, even by the time I put her down. (Note: Do not imitate this with anybody a pound heavier than Janna.)

As a five-year old girl with a 31-year old mind, Janna is a nonconforming being. She peels her hotdogs before devouring them into her microscopic mouth. She insists on calling her mother “Mommy” despite the latter’s pleas to save it for later when the family’s already rich and famous. Just days before her 5th birthday, she casually asked her mother how she looked like when she was 16. Of course, her mother was dumbfounded. The mother herself could not create a picture of her astute daughter eleven years ahead. Janna’s likewise curious why my boss Alan knows my name. With my two sets of index and middle fingers crossed, I told her, “we’re close”. She immediately switched to “Bubbles” when she found out her favorite Power Puff girl was actually named “Blossom” and not “Glossom”, reasoning it out as hard to pronounce. She creates games with her own rules. Abide by these rules, otherwise, she’ll throw you out of the game. She abhors being called “little Astrid”. At such an early age, the girl certainly wants to establish an identity far different and obviously, much better from that of her mother’s. And never, ever mess with her teeny weeny eyes (oops! sorry!), or bear with the lengthy rejection from her until she’s completely pacified.

In our waterless Water World, Janna’s a renowned “one-liner” kid and my personal favorite is this one. Having gone back recently to a life sans the worldly cellular phone, and finding the necessity of texting someone, I decided to borrow a friend’s Nokia 5110. With Janna seated beside me, I reached out an arm to take the offered cellphone. Without batting an eyelash, she stared at me and quipped, “Bagaa!” (Thick-faced!). I was so shocked I could not speak for a moment. Finally, after having recovered my senses, I managed to utter a word to her, “Ako?” (Me?). She snapped back, “Ang cellphone ba! Ang sa akong mama kay mas nipis man!” (I meant the cellphone! My mother’s is slimmer!). Weeks later, I got so relieved to find out her mother’s cellphone was a Philips GD90 model. Whew!

Daily departures from the waterless Water World for her are practically unpleasant, especially when her mother needs to stay longer for some extended work, and she’s left with no other choice but to go home ahead with her father. Shedding a tear that usually turns into a bawl is a regular sight, that is if you still catch her running away from the fish-infested doors. If your senses are no more than average, expect to see nothing else but her father’s back view walking towards the elevators.

It is in these times that Janna once more vanishes and slips back into her now predictable oblivion. For me, this recurring scene may seem amusing but is sometimes distressing as well. There are moments I wish to laugh at the thought of her getting upset for being asked to go home, but am often reminded of one particular occasion with her. We were playing one of those “originally-Janna-made” games and sensing her laughing profusely at me, I told her “I’d rather leave, you’re making fun of me.” Promptly concealing my dismay, she smiled sweetly and replied, “Of course not, why should I, we’re the best of friends, aren’t we?” My heart froze and ever since, I have forgotten about wishing to laugh back at her. Instead, I look forward to the next day and fervently wait for her to greet me again with “Did you miss me?”.

Post Script:
Contrary to the subject, the author is a 31-year old girl with a five-year old mind. Oh, but that’s another story.

Post Post Script Pa Gyud:
This note was written sometime in November 2001.

Anticipation

(photo grabbed from treklens.com)

I once read that Carly Simon wrote and sang the song Anticipation while waiting for a date with Cats Stevens. Not knowing what’s really in store for her with that particular date with the legendary singer, anticipation she said, is making her late, and keeping her waiting. Hmmm.

This got into my mind while waiting for my pail to be filled up with water before bathing. At my age today, I could say I have practically spent half of my life waiting. As a student, everyday I waited for my school bus to arrive, waited for the classrooms to open, waited for my classmates and teachers to come, waited for recess and lunch time, waited for my ride back home and perhaps everything else that caught up with waiting. Thanks to my more than punctual father who have instilled on us his children, the importance of being on time, better yet ahead of time. In fact, I have already gotten used to setting my watch 15 minutes ahead – which usually startles people who ask for the time! My friends at school used to ask me “why do you come to school so early, don’t you ever get bored waiting for the others?”. I remember saying “I get bored more waiting for time at home, and no, I don’t mind waiting at all.” I don’t know why. All I know then is that I would rather be the one waiting than be the one being waited on. And so while waiting for whatever or whoever, I used to kill time by sightseeing (Sigh, I wasn’t much of a studious student.) – counting nice looking cars that pass by in particular. Back in the 80s, the sight of airconditioned Toyota Coronas and Corollas was such a joy it made me forget our beaten yellow VW Brasilia. When I got into college, Mitsubishi Pajeros and Nissan Patrols were the rage among the more affluent and I thanked them profusely for giving me reasons to enjoy some wasted time. Lately? Yes I’m still into counting Isuzu Alterras and Ford Everests.

It was only some years after school when I started savoring the peculiar sweetness of tardiness. Having been influenced by some tardy friends, perhaps it was also only then did I finally dare to try showing up late at work or at invitations, for the mere sake of experiencing firsthand the thought of being waited on. To my dismay, despite already being a few minutes late on the usual agreed time, I still come way ahead than everybody! And so I realized that waiting still made me more comfortable rather than the other way around.

My job at this USAID-funded project is about to end. Issues concerning my tenure also need to be rectified. And as a member of the conventional working class, I am now into scouting new prospects of income generating activities. I have already sent out feelers to some agency partners though unfortunately, I have not heard anything from them yet, which takes me back to the waiting game again. I may or may not be able to claim my separation pay; I may or may not find a new job sooner. But as Carly Simon sings, “I'm no prophet and I don't know nature's ways; So I'll try and see into your eyes right now; And stay right here 'cause these are the good old days”.

I’m going to be fine. After all, good things happen to those who wait, doesn’t it?

Bye Alan

I was cleaning up my personal files today and found this. Five years ago, I bade goodbye to an almost ideal boss – Dr. Alan T. White, former Chief of Party of CRMP, who ended his contract with the Project and opted to move in Hawaii with his family for good. During our despedida party for him, I was randomly picked to say a few words about him but I declined as I am never comfortable speaking in front of a lot of people. Instead, I wrote this the morning after and just before he left for Honolulu.

Dearest Alan,

I never got to thank you personally last night or perhaps I was just too shy to speak in front of all those people around us.

I’d like to thank you Alan (I can’t remember anymore if I have ever done this before), for giving me the wonderful job I had at CRMP. For the record, it has been my longest ever since I started working after college. I remember when you and Ciony were interviewing me sometime in ’98, I was so nervous and yet, after that interview, I’ve never been more than convinced that I finally got the job, not to mention you were saying you still had one applicant to talk to!

From the very beginning, I have always considered you as my real boss even with Kitty or Becky or Marco around. I have always respected your ideas even if at times I would wish to insist on my own. Working with you must have been one of my most memorable moments in my entire career. I will never forget the support and encouragement you’ve always shared with me. In all the times I’ve made mistakes, you have always reassured me to just go on and continue to do better. You have always been very kind especially with my annual evaluation that sometimes it makes me wonder if I’m really that deserving! When I got into a disagreement with Amin last year, you were the only one who talked to me and asked what really happened. It was such a discouraging moment for me back then but I was truly relieved when finally, somebody came up to me and assured me that everything’s going to be fine. You know, even if you have scolded me at that time, I would still be thankful and grateful for it because it made me realize that somehow, there’s still somebody who’s genuinely concerned with ordinary employees like me.

And so I thank you again Alan, for the rare experience of being able to work with you. For giving me something to work on each time I get bored with nothing to do. For giving worth and significance on the numerous projects I’ve done in the past, may they be major or minor. For being the quiet and calm yet very supportive boss to all of us. For being around every time we need help. And most of all, thank you for appreciating my small contribution to the success of CRMP and hopefully with FISH as well.

Good luck on your new home. May you and Vangie and Ian have a nice new life out there. I wish you all good health and a good life in Hawaii. I hope to still hear from you from time to time. If there’s anything else you need – old files or new ones to be done, you know I will always make time for that.

Thank you and may you have a safe trip.

LESLIE

SMile

Am I over it or not?

2 years ago, SM City Cebu invited me to join them to fill in a newly-created regional marketing position – Tenants’ Advertising Manager. I gave it a thought and became totally excited when I found out the job involved a lot of traveling to my previous hometowns Bacolod, Davao, Iloilo and Manila. Wow! The application process was a breeze. The pay being offered was more than enough. I was even told “my” desk had long been waiting for me haha! Everything was just simply tailor made. It was definitely an offer made just at the right time, almost spoon fed. I was already about to open my mouth when suddenly for no reason at all, they changed their mind, took back the offered spoon and abandoned me with my mouth wide open! I totally had no idea what transpired after my last meeting with them. Days turned into weeks and months turned into a year and still no word from them. It was so frustrating for me that to give them a call to ask whatever happened to it would only make me feel worst. More than a year after I finally got a word from my sister (who used to work with them and still had friends from the mall). Perhaps after some last minute review, they found out they were running out of budget for the said position, decided to scrap it altogether and just didn’t take the time to at least inform me. Ha! Talk about professionalism.

So a year and a half later, I finally got the answer I’ve long been waiting for. Not that I haven’t moved on (hello?) but at least some closure was finally made. Thinking about it now only makes me smile and laugh and look back again. Probably I’m only reminded of it these days as I’m already about to end my job in 2 months’ time. Sigh.

So am I really over it? I would say yes. But if they’d give me a call anytime soon, I can always change my mind, can’t I?

So SMile ;-)

Hulog Ng Langit

While waiting for our breakfast in the islands, a jeepload of lanzones breezes by the road in front of us. My co-workers and I sighed at the sight of it. A few seconds pass and 2 local men surface at the hotel gate and hand us half a sack of lanzones! “Padala ni Chairman!”

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On our way back to the mainland, we could hardly get to our bangkero as the entire wharf was filled with the island’s bounties for the next day’s tabo. We managed to traverse safely the wobbly sea and found out later a bunch of fruits were waiting for us at the larger lansa! “Padala ni MPDC!”

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My boss is a natural butter up and unfortunately, most of the time I get “sold” by her too. A few days before my birthday, a project partner comes in asking for help. As expected, the boss presents her “miracle worker” again to the partner in need. I was tasked to submit a green architectural building proposal in 3 days! Wah! My ultimate dream of becoming an architect is finally at reach but I certainly could not do it alone. I had to ask a real architect friend to do the dirty job for me. “Sige na, birthday gift na lang please!” I was so harassed preparing the proposal which extended till the weekend, I hardly enjoyed my 40th birthday. No, I was not in denial; I was just really stressed out.

A week after that, I got a call from them saying (though yet to be announced officially) that we won the bidding! Whether it was real or not, it's still good news, isn't it?

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Next?

Binibirthday

29th of July 2010

It’s the eve of my 40th birthday and I’m feeling kinda lonely. I had no idea this is how it feels like to “begin one’s life”, as most people say. I must have felt the same way too in my past life – when I sprung out of my mother’s womb 4 decades ago. But just the same, I couldn’t even tell now, much less then.

Family and friends have long asked what my plans were. I keep telling them I don’t know. I have stopped “celebrating” my birthday on its 13th year. T’was probably also the last year my father could afford to buy me a whole lechon and have everybody around. The remaining years were spent “hitching” at a nephew’s birthday party.

I’ve had “surprise parties” too in the past. Thanks to my family and friends who took time preparing them – like waking up at midnight and treat me with some sweets; for showing up unannounced at intimate lunches or dinners; not to mention the countless treats from my boss. They’re all actually fun, albeit embarrassing at times. That’s why I’m relieved it’s raining tonight (with lightning, thunder, the works) so that only the bravest of the braves would show up again at midnight (assuming they’ve made earlier plans haha), knock at my door and yell out HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Regrets

Kenny Rankin sadly sang on the radio early this morning –

I have regrets
Regrets for my mistake in thinking only of myself
All that I have left are these regrets
Regret the things I did that somehow you just can't forgive
I guess I'll have to live with these regrets…

A song after, Daryl Hall screams over to John Oates’ guitar –

Sometimes I forget what I’m doing
I don’t forget what I want
Regret what I’ve done
Regret you?
I couldn’t go on…

And just before I got off from the car, Rupert Holmes, though hurting, calmly sang –

Him, him, him, what's she gonna do about him?
She's gonna have to do without him,
Or do without me, me, me,
No one gets to get it for free,
Time for me to make the girl see,
It's me or it's him…

What’s with all these mushy songs anyway? I could not relate (or rather refuse to relate?) to what they’ve been heartily expressing.

I’m reminded of Rupert Holmes and so I search for his songs in youtube. I found “Let’s Go Crazy Tonight” and it goes –

Life can be too much you see
We all need insanity
You’re off the hook when you’re off the wall
You got to say, the hell with them all

C’mon let’s get crazy tonight
No time to worry if we’re wrong or we’re right
Caught up with people we’ve never met
Ooh, Sunday morning, we’ll forgive and forget

Before the dawn begins to shine it’s hazy blue light
Let’s get crazy tonight…

Last week, I finally did something I didn’t want to regret. It’s either they “go crazy” over it or I “go crazy” for not doing it. It may come out futile (God forbid!) or worthwhile, whatever. What’s important is, I’m happy I finally did it.

Now I can relate.

Far Out

Surfing my Facebook account today, I chanced upon some photos uploaded by an old friend from grade school. Her photos were probably taken during a conference of Microsoft employees recently held in Atlanta, USA. One of the said photos had Microsoft Chairman Bill Gates’ face prominently displayed on a wide screen. Having seen the famous business mogul on the picture, I was awed – at my friend, for having Bill Gates as her boss.

To compensate my envy, I reminded myself of the newly elected president Noynoy Aquino’s vow to the citizenry – “Kayo ang boss ko!” Now, how is that in comparison to having Bill Gates as your boss?

---

15 years ago, a schoolmate came up to me offering life insurance. In the course of our conversation, she asked me of anyone else from our school whom she could also offer her proposals. Thinking to be of help, I mentioned a friend’s name. The schoolmate instantly told me the friend I suggested had earlier declined as she already had plans of getting herself a new car, a reason farthest from my immediate plan that day – of which was to buy myself a new pair of socks!

---

Farther back to the summer of 1982, I was an incoming 6th grader in a new city. Having Ateneo as the best school in town, my father took me there to try my luck. I made it. I fairly passed the entrance test. However, while the school administrator explained the school’s standards to my father – that of maintaining an average grade of 80 or higher, he (my Pa) suddenly got confused. Immediately he decided to take me somewhere else. I got even more confused!

About a kilometer away was the Philippine Women’s College. Soon enough, I found myself taking another entrance test, went through a short interview and next thing I knew, I was already enrolled! What can I say; I was only 12 years old.

Oddly, I turned out to be smarter (?) than most of the other kids out there. I was not so sure of the conundrum – was I really that clever, or were they just plain imperceptive kids? Either which, it was still a fun ride. Shhh...

Strings

I just realized people as skinny as a string probably do not eat at all. ‘Cause if they do, they probably wouldn’t be as wiry as they are.

I eat by heaps and so undeniably, I am hefty, too. Life obviously, is fair.

---

No strings attached. 42 names off my social network today.

Ironically, it would take a lifetime for me to convert them into pounds (as in lbs).

---

I don’t get it. People around here show up when they’re actually sick but call in sick when they’re actually out on vacations.

Strangle them?

---

;-)

Mini Artwork

In 1992, I was a graduating (super) senior Fine Arts student at UP Cebu. As a prerequisite to all BFA students, we were required to mount either an individual or group painting exhibit (thesis to others) prior to graduation. But in those days, producing a one-man show especially for a young student, was both financially and physically exigent and so for practical reasons, along with my close friends Geraldine and Ivy, we decided to come up with a group exhibit instead. We opened in March of that year and pragmatically called our show “Pinuwawan”, to which Geraldine’s mother commented with “intawn pod!”

The exhibit ran for a week and so the 3 of us took turns on watching over it. One day while Ivy and I were taking our turn, we happened to find an extra strip of canvas in our stuff and playfully wrote a note on it that said, “to all artists, please draw here” and inserted it inside our guest book. When noontime came, we took off for a quick bite and came back an hour later, expecting for another boring afternoon. Little did we know that while we were out, a couple of artists dropped by to see our exhibit – Tito Cuevas, a well-known Cebuano abstractionist (better known as the bad guy of Cebuano art) who brought along with him a Japanese friend who also happened to be an artist!

We found ourselves speechless, or rather astounded over what we found inside our guest book. Probably upon seeing our note, the 2 artists gamely made an on-the-spot “mini artwork” each on the canvas and even signed them both! Thankfully, Ivy and I were evidently opposites and so splitting the artworks was never an issue. Being a Cuevas fan back in those days, a mere autograph was more than enough for me to be elated, much more acquiring an authentic artwork of his. Ivy on the other hand, was also ecstatic seeing the Japanese’s sketch. Too bad, I could no longer recall the artist’s name. (I wonder too, if she still has the artwork up to this day.)

It took me years to have the now classic Cuevas piece framed, for reasons I could not comprehend. But one thing is for sure, I am keeping this collector’s item for as long as I can.

I never got nor I may never get to say this to him personally but, "thank you Mr. Cuevas".

Risky Business

My dearest Tom Cruise, this has totally nothing to do with your debut on the silver screen but please allow me to draw on your movie’s legendary title for this brief sappy moment.

Twelve years ago, I was literally on a high having just been offered a new job coupled with a hundred percent raise on my then existing wage rate. It came just at the right time, when I was about to give up on my worn-out advertising job. And even if it wasn’t exactly served on a silver platter either, luckily I still managed to acquire the attractive post without so much fuss.

It was both exciting and terrifying when I started my new work. It took a while for me to blend with the rest of the group but eventually, I was able to squeeze myself into the mold that already existed. Albeit the work involved was not as taxing as my previous job, I was able to withstand temporary boredom from time to time. And with the add-on privileges that weren’t as common somewhere else, I was actually having fun.

I was taken aback when the management suddenly turned its course and did some mutation on our existing benefits, causing distress leading to animosity on our behalf. I, together with a close friend and colleague, even made a few attempts if only to reclaim whatever we have unlawfully lost but to no avail. And with the possibility of losing our jobs, it was demoralizing to be treated in such a way that leaves you no choice but to accept what was only being offered.

Several years have gone by and our assignments are about to end again. The end that is more vivid this time. And without any assurance of further employment offers, I am about to completely lose the 12 years (of service) I have ardently built up in this company. Thanks to brilliant and radical minds, we were (finally) able to establish basis on whatever is due us legally. Although it may still take time to resolve and rectify issues and differences between the management and the workforce, I am willing to wait on it. And this time, I certainly wouldn’t give up on this one without putting on a good fight.

The Mega Reunion

I usually hit the sheets early on Sundays but the other night, I tried to fight back sleepiness for that much-awaited mega reunion of the formerly famous Sharon-Gabby tandem plus their daughter KC. Earlier in the news, the reunion was supposedly set for KC’s new show but turned out later to be intended for Sharon’s. (Apologies to my US-based high school friends Binky and Debra for the wrong info.)

KC did the opening number with a song that said about “new version of me” or something. After which Gabby comes in and they sang together the theme song of the movie they were promoting. Following the humdrum duet, KC calls in her ninang ZsaZsa Padilla to help her out in dealing with the apparently uncomfortable meeting again of her biological parents after 15 years. While the 3 of them were still busy chatting on national TV, the visibly conscious megastar walks in, probably too eager and couldn’t wait to share the same stage with her ex-husband and daughter. KC seemed a bit tensed with her parents’ first public reunion after a long time. Indulge her. It’s never easy to be an estranged couple’s daughter, much less having Sharon and Gabby as parents. Gabby on the other hand was rather unperturbed and appears to be enjoying the moment (as if he’s the only one among the 3 who’s ever moved on). Sharon, as always, turns out to be the feeblest party of them all, with her incessant syrupiness of ancient times. To think the audience wasn’t even bantering at all!

Having been dumped by the ever youthful-looking Gabby eons ago, Sharon’s retribution rather seems the other way around. Like adding up those superfluous flab and annoying “pagpapacute” making her self look even more pathetic. I wonder which is harder to do in getting back at an ex – get fit and look deliciously gorgeous for the ex to drool on or, putting on those extra pounds and look terribly unattractive making the ex puke and wonder how the hell did he ever fall for you in the first place! I bet Sharon gave more attention on the latter. Standing alone beside the very lean Gabby is totally a disaster. No amount of any black ensemble (from head to toe) can cover up those unwanted love handles she couldn’t get rid of for the longest time. And with Gabby summing it all up by also wearing black tops, it only made him look even more like half the size of Sharon! Now where did all the studio’s stylists go?

I skipped most of their discussions on the show because it only made me hate my former idol Sharon more. Yeah, I used to be a huge fan. The whole family used to be a huge fan. Watching a Sharon movie then used to be a family tradition. But that was eons ago too. These days I can proudly say, I can already afford to pay no attention to any news on Sharon (except for this reunion ruckus) and get on with my early Sunday sleep. Yeah. After all, I’m already done watching Kris earlier on The Buzz!

Parsimonious

Parsimonious - I love the sound of it coming from my mouth. But certainly I’m not one.

Agapan
Barot
Cheap
Cheapskate
Cheeseparing
Chinchy
Chintzy
Cost-conscious
Daginotan
Dungkol
Economizing
Frugal
Inot
Kuripot
Maiyawaton
Makunat
Matipid
Mingy
Miserly
Niggardly
Penny-pinching
Penny-wise
Pinchgut
Scrimp
Scrooge
Skinflint
Sparing
Stingy
Thrifty
Tightfisted
Tightwad
Tihik

Hey, I’m beginning to hate it.

Closure

I often hear the word “closure” and wonder if it also applies to non-love related stuff. My mini Webster’s dictionary defines it simply – the end. Of what, that I do not know.

I’m meeting old friends (high school classmates) this weekend. I’m excited to see them again after 23 years. It’s amazing to be with these ladies again, ladies whom I spent my impish adolescence with. As teenage schoolgirls, we may have had our share of childish disagreements but I believe that the 2 decades that went by must have been long enough to transform us into sensible and mature persons, drowning all differences down the drain. I can’t wait to reconnect with them, and perhaps bond with them too, for the rest of our adult lives.

---

My employment days are already numbered. As expected in project-based jobs, your career is always co-terminus with the life of the projects you are involved in. This is perhaps the downside of being into development work. I have been into this business for the past 12 years, spending most of the latter part of it feeling anxious on my employment stability. Had I known life here would have been this erratic, I probably should have sought out other opportunities early on. But that would be plain immature animosity too. And so as I move on to my employment’s next chapter, I guess the only way to be in place is to yield to this inevitable episode.

The end.

When Life Is About To Begin

At age 10, I remember being free from all care and couldn’t imagine myself being 20. I dig that for a young kid, 20 then meant too old to even think about. A decade later and fresh out of my teens, I turned out feeling like I’ve just been ignited. I had so much fun I wanted to keep the flame without end.

Until I turned 30.

The next 10 years that came seemed to have puffed away the fire in me. I don’t know. I just gradually ran out of creative juices – career-wise, even life-wise. I’m not quite sure about it but I probably spent my 30s dissatisfied. Poorly maintained or should I say, just plain bored. Perhaps middle age rather came early for me.

In 2 months I will be marking my 40th birthday. What’s gonna happen next or how’s it gonna be like, I totally have no idea. I’m quite puzzled because I see 40ish people pretending to be unflustered while others engage their time fighting back their age. I haven’t thought of how to deal with it myself. All I know is that I’m single, broke and silly. Should I consider myself lucky?

Benigno Simeon C. Aquino III, Philippine President 2010-2016

My 4th time to vote for Philippine President and my bet finally makes it! (with the exception of the cheating GMA in 2004 of course)

1992 Miriam Defensor-Santiago
1998 Alfredo S. Lim
2004 Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo

PS. T’was a first for our family to have the same candidate too!

First Sister

Perhaps the sweetest part of Noynoy's victory is the novelty of having Kris Aquino as the country's very first FIRST SISTER! woohoo!

Apologies to non-Kris believers.

nye-nye-nye-nye-nye!

Election Day

I pity the youth of today for the history they know of is nothing but the absurdities of the past 2 administrations. As (bad) luck would have it, our country’s 13th president was toppled by a people power rerun, succeeded and was convicted for plunder by his more than willing subordinate, only to be freed 7 years after by the same underling who is now herself wedged in the comforts of power. Worst, the plunderer is heedlessly given another chance to dig deeper into our nation’s already insolvent pocket! Thanks to these 8 other voracious individuals: a short-tongued national thief; a suave and dubious bar topnotcher; a swaggering bureaucrat; a man who claims to be God’s entrant; a self-assured environmentalist; a peculiar vegetarian; an unknown with perhaps a good intention; and lastly, another unknown with probably no intentions at all (all equally vying for the country’s highest position) – the humble naturalized hero’s probability of making it in today’s election is extensively reduced to divine intervention.

I pray that we, the Filipino people, will restore genuine history today.

Yellow People

While having our Mother's Day dinner earlier, I noticed each one from the family next to us wearing yellow Noynoy baller IDs. I smiled. The voting people are still commonsensical after all.

Family Bet

Photo from postcardstothemasses.blogspot.com

I just came from an aunt’s birthday party and as usual, the whole gang was in a riot over whose voice would be loudest at the dinner table. Our family (father’s side) basically consists of only 3 branches – my Pa’s, his older sister Nanay Sally’s, and the balikbayan divorcee Tio Poy’s, while their remaining 2 brothers are both at large. Despite the few members from each branch (ours has 11; Nanay has 12; and the solo Tio Poy (though he has 2 American citizen sons based in the US), we are still considered a large family due to corporal issues. (Yeah, most of us are heavily built, predominantly the males.) In all occasions that we gather, there is always a particular subject matter that draws everyone into an exchange of frivolous discussions. Which goes back to my first statement “…riot over whose voice would be loudest at the dinner table”.

With a cousin’s family having just arrived from a hush-hush Hong Kong getaway, their hilarious travel tales were initially the hot topic for the evening. Moving on to alternative cuisines that the boys were so familiar with – ranging from the famous Pasil’s linarang followed by Mabolo’s Highblood Station down to the former A1 (now Parkeville?) and down more to Jugan’s Kandingan. Everyone was in high spirits until they noticed my oversized, yellow Noynoy watch! The cousins, perhaps being in their comfort zone, finally made it obvious they were in favor of money + evil + liar = (God forbid!) Manny Villar. Sadly, they could not seem to grasp why I and the rest of our branch are adherent to Noynoy, in the same manner that our side couldn’t likewise believe they are actually Villar’s disciples. The cousins’ father who happens to be a close associate of Eddie Gullas (a staunch advocate of Villar) even badmouthed Noynoy citing his (Noy’s) plans of signing the RH Bill within his first 100 days in office and of possibly leading another People Power revolution should he lose in the coming elections. Well, I have no problem with both issues. I would rather put up with this reproductive brouhaha than have all whatever wealth our country has left unlawfully get into the hands of the abysmal Villar. Ever since that guy came out on TV wearing his signature tangerine polo shirt, with his adolescent-like tits marking out underneath, I was completely convinced that the man is one person whom you cannot fully trust.

Moreover, the cousin’s young daughters were equally baffled with my choice. These girls belong to Gibo’s minority followers. (Shhh…) They desperately told me, “E, we’d rather have anyone but Noynoy!” I smiled and replied “You’re just saying that because you simply have no idea who Noynoy really is.” “Kay kaila diay mo?” they snapped back at me. And I said, “Nope, but Kris is a close friend!” which brought everybody back to our boisterous laughter once again.

To put an end to our political differences, I finally and earnestly told them “If Noynoy wins, I will treat you all to dinner!” to which the cousins also countered with “Sure! And if Villar wins, we’ll take you all to dinner as well!” Everyone agreed and again, unconsciously got into yet another squabble. This time, who’s taking who to Highblood Station and who’s taking who to Jugan’s Kandingan! Whew! Dakoa namo’g problema oy!

Languor

In 2 weeks’ time I am scheduled to open another work-required exhibit down south. By this point in time, I should already be on my way to the printer, the hardware, and the courier. But I am not.

I have not made a single move in the last 2 months. I wonder what is it that blocks my puny mind just to get myself into a good start.

I have already been into 3 beach getaways for half the summer yet I am still under unquenchable desires of the deep blue sea.

I am running out of time (and reasons too!) on not having set off for this supposedly “highlight” of my already numbered employment days. Perhaps even the miracle I so fervently trust is now fed up with my notable ingenuity on delaying things.

If only I could write a decent article, maybe then I could shift careers.

There I go again.

Jeproks, Jologs & Jejemons

In the 70s, Jeproks was the “in” thing. If you were to listen to Mike Hanopol’s famous song “Laki sa Layaw Jeproks!”, you will figure out the pinoy slang as referring to somebody coming from an affluent family who’s leading a carefree lifestyle. In short – a good-for-nothing bum.

“Its etymology may have been the combination of the local vehicle "Jeep" and the musical genre "Rock". Jeep-rock is not a famous word but Philippine jeepneys are known to follow the career of local rock singers and turn on their radio speakers very loud to attract young passengers to ride.” – from a certain Mary Magdalene is my mom (Yahoo! Answers)

I checked out urbandictionary.com and it says:

“A Filipino slang term for anyone hailing from the projects. Often stereotyped as the cooler, more laid back, and savagely street smart bunch. Almost parallel to being "hood" as Americans would say.”

Example: “The way you smooth talked that cop into letting us of the hook was so Jeproks!”

In the 90s, another street-slang came out of every yuppy’s mouth – Jologs. I’ve read somewhere it was derived from Jolina (Magdangal) and Itlog thus the term “Jologs”, referring to somebody tacky or anybody associated with stuff that are mainly for the masses. In other words, baduy.

Again from urbandictionary.com:

1. Derived from the combined words daing (salted fish), tuyo (a type of dried fish) and itlog (egg). Dyolog then became Jolog, a term for someone who is tacky, but implied in a more negative tone and often referred to people who belong to the lower class of society.
2. "Baduy", "skwating", tacky
3. Someone who likes Jolina Magdangal (a tacky, teeny-bopper wannabe)
4. Anything or anyone associated with things that are "pang-masa" (for the masses)

Example: “ABS-CBN is so jolog. And Judy Ann Santos is just about the queen of jologs. Well... second to Jolina anyway.”

Recently, another alien term has been coming out from the internet – Jejemon. Having absolutely no idea what the hell Jejemon means, I dug it out again over urbandictionary.com:

1) Usually seen around social networking sites such as Friendster and Multiply, Jejemons are individuals with low IQs who spread around their idiocy on the web by tYpFing LyK diZS jejejeje, making all people viewing their profile raise their eyebrows out of annoyance. Normal people like you and me must take a Bachelor of Arts in Jejetyping in order to understand said individuals, as deciphering their text would cause a lot of frustration and hair pulling.

CAUTION: THESE INDIVIDUALS ARE BREEDING! THEY CAN BE SEEN WRECKING GRAMMATICAL HAVOC ON FACEBOOK TOO!

2) Basically anyone with a low tolerance in correct punctuation, syntax and grammar. Jejemons are usually hated or hunted down by Jejebusters or the grammar nazi to eradicate their grammatical ways.

Example:

miSzMaldiTahh111: EoW pFuOh!
You: Huh?
miszMaldiTahh111: i LLyK tO knOw moR3 bOut u, PwfoH. crE 2 t3ll mE yur N@me? jejejejeje!
You: You are a jejemon! Don't talk to me, you uneducated retard!
miszMaldiTahh111: T_T

It also says:

a person WhO tyPeZ lYKeS tH1s pfOuh.. whether you are RICH, MIDDLE CLASS or POOR ifpK eU tYpE L1K3 tHiS pfOuh..eU are CONSIDERED AS JEJEMON.

Tsk tsk tsk. After having befriended the urbandictionary.com for half a day, I can still put up with being called Jeproks and even Jologs but certainly not Jejemon. Shucks, how am I supposed to impart this to my friends who love to write tHeIr ShOuToUtS lIkE tHiS?

Tickle My Fancy

I am fond of collecting stuff with catchy names or titles. Out of sheer boredom, I tend to squander whatever remaining loose change I have every time I come across interesting finds. Among the bits and pieces I’ve stumbled upon (in the past) are:

1. Screaming Trees album (grunge band in the early 90s)
2. Could Be Worst (children’s book)
3. The Love Book (photo book)
4. Dyslexic Heart (single from the movie Singles)
5. I Love You To Death (Keanu Reeves & River Phoenix movie)
6. Luna’s Moustache (Philippine history book)
7. Ang Kagila-gilalas na Pakikipagsapalaran Ni Zsazsa Zaturnnah (Filipino graphic novel)
8. Suddenly Stateside (short essays on Pinoy life in the USA)
9. Rome and Juliet (Indie film)
10. Everything You Didn’t Need To Know About Australia (trivia book)

Latest I’ve chanced upon are these 2 books on sale at Powerbooks:

Our Lady of Weight Loss (Miraculous and Motivational Musings from the Patron Saint of Permanent Fat Removal)

and

The Insatiable Spider Man (a Cuban novel)

These 2 better be a good read, otherwise I’d be forced to come up with my own banner like “Killing Time In the Middle of a Deadline” perhaps?

Put off this nonsense. Get back to work.

Goodbye Friends

In November of last year, my high school friend and classmate Weldy gave in to breast cancer. Just last week, my grade school classmate Marvin also succumbed to diabetes. Both returned to their Creator barely reaching the age of 40, just when life is supposed to begin for most of us.

Weldy, as I could recall, was a pleasant character in our batch. She was one of those girls who diligently studies even way before our periodical exams. I may not have known her more beyond school but for the 4 years that we’ve been together, I could see then that she was a kind daughter and sister to her family.

As I gathered from our old friends after her demise, she never complained about her illness, no matter how painful and heart-wrenching her cancer could have been. I admired her even more for the courage to live contentedly up to her last breath.

Marvin, on the other hand was my classmate in grades 2 and 3. As I was a new student in second grade, he was one of the first kids who became my friend for the simple reason that our mothers knew each other from way back. Aside from being smart, he was also the biggest boy (both tall and chubby) in our class which I guess, made him automatically class president.

There’s this funny story I never fail to share time and again with our batchmates and even with other friends who do not know him personally. Being the class leader, Marvin was always designated by our adviser to stay at the front and write on the board everyone else who dare open their mouth whenever our teacher was out of the room. Unfortunately, I could never take a break from chatting with whoever is willing to listen so I was always number 1 on his list. One time, upon seeing my name boldly written on the board, a “bright idea” just popped into my young impish mind. I signaled Marvin to come over where I was seated and whispered to him “Papasa na ako name diha, tagaan ka nako ug bag-o nga piso!”. Seriously, he was not the type to be fooled around. Of course, he didn’t approve my “bribery” and so there was nothing else I could do but to shut my mouth! After sometime of me keeping still, eventually he removed my name from the list and to my surprise, he went back to me and whispered “Patan-awa lang ko!”.

After 3rd grade, I left for Manila and came back 3 years after. Marvin was no longer in the same school and somehow since then, we never got the chance to meet again face to face. As I mentioned to my brother this morning the sad news, he was also taken aback by Marvin's untimely death. He remembers Marvin as a kind kid. But to my playful mind, I bet my tubby brother refuses to remember when I used to ask him before “Ngano’ng si Marvin nga tambok, cute man, ikaw lagi kay dili?!”.

So long Weldy and Marvin. May your souls find eternal rest in our Father's hands. And may we see each other again up there… much, much later of course!

The Lighter Side of Being Heavy

As a young kid, I used to be (always) the tallest and biggest in class. I was also constantly surrounded by towering and sometimes oversized friends and playmates. I was unusually taller and bigger than my elder sisters as well so vertical insecurities on my part have always been unheard of. In short, I confidently grew up thinking and feeling tall even after I’ve already stopped growing at age 13 and have reached my maximum height of only 5’2 (haha!).

I vividly remember when I was in 1st year high school, during our daily flag ceremonies, I voluntarily positioned myself at the 4th and last row of our class. For some strange reasons during my 2nd year, I noticed some of my classmates to have grown slightly taller than me, prompting me to move forward to the 3rd row. To my disbelief, they continued growing on our 3rd year and obviously, by the time we were in 4th year, I have already become a reluctant front liner! But somehow, it never made quite a dent on my ego. I never developed any qualms at all because aside from “feeling tall”, I was also luckily a bit skinny at that time. Yeah. That was 23 years ago.

Fast forward to 7 years after my high school graduation, I was a newly hired junior artist in a local ad agency, both pressured and excited with my advertising job. On my 2nd month (at work) alone, I was slightly underweight at 107 lbs. (being 5’2 and should be normally weighing 110 lbs.). Those were the days when getting in and out of my jeans were never a big deal. 4 years into the business, I had the opportunity again to work elsewhere. As I gradually got accustomed to my new environment, I just woke up 1 day and found myself already quite heavy at 118 lbs.! Uh-oh, I told myself. Being young and still physically conscious then, I tried hard to get thru on a 3-day fat burning diet. It was so successful I was able to get rid of my excessive 8 lbs. in just 3 days! Amazing huh?

And so for the next 3 years, I was fortunate enough to maintain and enjoy my ideal weight. I still had the liberty to tuck my shirt in, every single, working day. When my employer sent me twice to the US to attend our company’s annual meetings, I had more than enough room between my legs and my jeans to wear a pair of leggings to keep me warm from the autumn chill. Even my 2-weeks’ worth of clothes literally fitted in a regular trolley luggage alongside some souvenirs I’ve accumulated during my trips. Until the costly company annual meetings were totally stopped on my supposedly 3rd chance to attend. Along with some changes in the management, everything else such as my 14th month bonus, my Christmas dollar bonus and other benefits were all taken away for unreasonable basis. My officemates and I did try to negotiate with our unsupportive superiors only to be disappointed time and again. Unfortunately, the management never gave in to our legitimate requests. It was such a depressing stage in my entire employment history that I took everything into heart and resulted into my hoarding of unwanted superfluous flab. In the few months that followed, I suddenly ballooned into 120 lbs.! I probably poured out all my frustrations into overfeeding myself that since then, I unconsciously bloated myself till I reached my present weight of 142 lbs. (tsk tsk tsk!) Anyway, it’s been years since that unfortunate turn of events in my career. Somehow I have already moved on despite not having moved away.

And so here I am today, literally heavier than the people’s champ Pacman himself, absorbing all kinds of jokes – sometimes mine but most of the time, other people’s, e.g. “Buntis ka ba?” or “Did you just give birth?” (All of these were genuinely conveyed.) I guess I should be thankful I was born happy I could easily take all corpulent invectives without any difficulty. I could even make fun of myself and honestly laugh at it as well. I guess the only issue for now is how to get into my swimsuit without exerting much effort. I think I better get back into shape before the summer season gets over. Hey, I see the building stairs winking at me.

Araw ng Kagitingan

Back in 1980, I was a 10-year old Cebuano Grade 4 new student in a Manila school, trying so hard to figure out my Pilipino assignment that said: “Ano ang ibig sabihin ng giting at magbigay ng halimbawa.” I had to run to my eldest sister for help. Coming from her, I wrote this: "Ang ibig sabihin ng giting ay katapangan. Halimbawa: Andres Bonifacio." The next day, I confidently submitted my homework to my teacher who wrote on the board again “Ano ang ibig sabihin ng gitling?”

Ouch!