Friendship: Ideal foundation for love

Friendship lays a strong foundation for love. If you want to win your lady's heart, you could either take the fast, aggressive approach of telling her upfront you like her or opt for the slow but treacherous path of friendship. If you are the type of person who'd rather cut to the chase and profess love right away, you'll get your yes or no much sooner and upfront. If it's a yes, then it's a sweet victory in so much less a time for you. If it's a no, it still is a win as it saves you the time and the effort to instead go after and pursue the right girl who'd give you your yes. Just remember, there will always be a yes buried in thousands of nos. Now if you're the type who'd rather invest your time getting to know the girl you like, spending the time with her, doing activities typical friends do; basically anything short of branding yourself a suitor, a lover and the likes, then choose the path of friendship. The treacherous yet rewarding path of friendship. Why treacherous, you say? One word. Friendzone. In here, you play a dangerous game of digging a deep enough friendship that's neither too shallow nor way far down the surface enough to cave in on you lending you stuck in the wicked world of friendzone, which is a nasty, nasty place. It is a place you don't want to be in so striking the right balance between too shallow and too deep a friendship is crucial. So what do you do? First, of course, approach her and introduce yourself in a friendly, but not overfriendly, manner. Meaning not too casual to leave zero impression, for she'll forget your name the next time you meet; but not too creepy to scare her away, for she'll remember your face 'til kingdom come. Again, strike the right balance. As I said, this is crucial. Now that you've introduced yourself, don't hang around and start "being" friends with her. Let it settle, let it steam. Wait it out, do other stuff for a couple of days. As one of my favorite TV characters pointed out, "even Jesus waited three days before he resurrected, so do so as well". After 3 days, or well, realistically the next day, talk to her but not excitedly, all right. Casual, that's the key. Now if she remembers your name that's when you'll know that you made an impact on your first meet, which should definitely light up your face and paint a huge smile on it, only it should not so don't appear to be exhilarated. Always remember the operative word, casual. Now this is the time, my friend, to start to be friends with her. To be friends with her, and with her other girl friends. You heard that right. Girls love to be with other girls. They hang out together and do stuff together, so the girl you like probably shall have a bunch of her own girl friends and if your lucky, you'll get introduced to them. Now remember the building the foundation of friendship thing I mentioned, this is one situation where if you react incorrectly, you'll dig your shovel a little too far down, way closer to the friendzone, which is a nasty, nasty place you don't want to be in. So maybe, as my other TV favorite had put it, your best course would be to tread lightly. How? say hi. And smile. That's it. Do not engage her friends too much, atleast not just yet. Turn your attention back to her and strike a conversation, a casual conversation. Just like how a new friend would talk to a new friend, light, funny--just so you could flash a stunning smile or two, if you're gifted with killer smiles. Talk lightly about anything but her social number. Again, casual. Do these things ever so often, every chance you get, every time you "incidentally" meet. Talk to her friends but talk more to her, spend time with her friends but spend even more time with her. Do not isolate her from her friends, immerse yourself instead. Eventually, you'll find yourself accepted, treated as one within her circle of friends. Now that you know her, she knows you and her friends know you, it's time to do your research. Ask around and find out what her likes are, her dislikes, her sports, the movies she watches, books she reads, her pets, her pet peeves, anything. Anything that would help you build a stronger foundation of your well, friendship. Who to ask, you say? Of course, your new friends. Her friends which has now become your also friends. Reach out to them, talk to them, bond with them, do what typical girl-boy friends do, in short befriend them. Do your reconnaissance casually, not obviously, so as not to raise suspicion. If you want to know her favorite food ask her friends which places they frequent pigging out, what sports they like to play. Here and there you'll get some drops and hints from them and know more about her and more importantly, them, your new friends. So be a true friend to them because later on they shall play a crucial role. Keep in mind that the way you treat them now will impact the way they'll treat you down the stretch. And if you're lucky, they'd all be likeable and fun to be with. You might ask me, would being friends with her and her friends render me closer to that nasty, nasty place of friendzone? If I’m friends with her friends, how do I now treat her differently? Now this, my friend, is where the difference between digging deeper into the friendzone versus landing right at the sweet spot of friends-which-could-be-more-than-friends is set. Many people are dragged into the friendzone for failing to realize when to quit being a truefriend-friend and when to start establishing the "I’m your friend, but I could be more than a friend"-friend until it's too late. So to duck this dreaded catastrophe, you need to shift from being a truefriend-friend(TFF)into a morethanafriend-friend MFF), the sooner the better. Here's how. First, treat her friends as how you'd treat your other friends but do not treat her the same. Meaning, if you spend time with her friends, you need to spend "extra" time with her. When you find her alone, talk to her. Use the information you've gathered from her friends. If you're any good with your ninja info gathering techniques, by now you should have known her likes and dislikes, her interests, her passion. Having known all of these allows you to handle the conversation with ease and confidence. Now go ahead and listen to her story. This is the time to dig deeper. Learn more about her straight from her, not her friends. This is when you delve a little bit into her personal side; her past experiences, things and people she hates, things and people she loves. However, look for cues. If at any point in your conversation you find her a bit uncomfortable, stop. If she likes you, she'll openly share things about herself you wouldn’t even have to ask. And if she likes you the way you like her, she'll tell you things she never told her friends before. That, my friend, should definitely light up your face and paint a huge smile on it, only this time you can freely show it as this marks the sweet transition from TFF to MFF. If you enjoy her company and you want to drag on the TFF part do so at your own liking and, of course, risk. But if you come to the point you decide to initiate the MFF phase, then, my friend, welcome to the last leg of the race. You may start asking her out to watch a movie, just you two alone. If your ninja moves are any good, you have had been joining her and her friends watching movies, playing basketball or tennis and any other "group" activities you were invited in, or you invited yourself in, in the last few months. See what I did there, invited yourself in. Start the transition from a TFF to MFF by doing these same activities minus both your other friends. Walk in the park, eat out, watch movies, see games, everything, but just the two of you. Remember what I said earlier about how you treat her friends will impact how they treat you later down the stretch? This is the "down the stretch" part and both your friends not minding you two alone doing what had been months ago group activities and be supportive of it, that means they approve of what you intend to do. Your intention of bringing it to the next level from being just a friend to being more. With the strong foundation you've built, having spent time knowing her and her friends, sharing activities and experiences with her and her friends and extricating yourself away from that nasty, nasty place, I'd say now is the time to pursue her. You basically have just laid the foundation for love. You have won her friends, now you need to win her heart. But that, my friend, I’ll leave up to you. How you would do it lies in you hands. Only thing you and I will share in this experience is the path you and I took, this treacherous yet rewarding path of friendship and making it a very good foundation for love. Of course, you and I could have chosen the easier way and save ourselves the time and all, but thank God we did not. From my personal experience, there was this one person I knew who took his shot and told the girl I like upfront his intention, only to fail miserably that I felt sorry for him. I could have easily been him, but I chose the other path, the long and treacherous path. And I’d say after all those cherished moments, fond memories and experiences we shared since we first met, I soon won her sweet yes. And as fate would have it twelve years later, her long awaited...I do.

the best feeling

her laugh broke the silence, as i was staring blankly at the silver screen. aware that a film was rolling, casting its light on to the wide hanging curtain, but it seemed to be exactly that. a light flashing on to the curtain. i just had no idea what the film was about. still mesmerized at what has happened, that, by fate or slight stroke of luck, i was with her, seated beside her, trying to keep calm, appearing to pay attention to the movie when all all i kept doing really was the opposite. I was surprised she'd say yes, that we'd watch a movie with her two best friends. that her friends backed out the last minute was beyond me. answered prayer or realized wishful thinking, the timing couldn't be more perfect. the movie was about two people fighting for their love or so what i surmised from the title. i couldn't help but chuckle looking back. i was that boy who for the first time had a date, well, not a date-date but a trip to the movie, with a lady i had embarassing crush on and so dumbstruck to act normally and just sitting there head towards the movie screen but eyes wandering on its side to catch but a glimpse of her watching intently, lovely really, that cheesy movie while i was just there sitting silently, dumbfoundedly, still grasping what was happening. then her laugh broke the silence, and I was in love.

bad ass: ain't braggin if you can back it up

so how was it, the exam. just me short of asking him, will you pass. yet, my brother knew me all too well. yes, i will pass. he responded. delivered with an eerie sense of certainty. that reassured me somewhat. my youngest brother, a soon-to-be lawyer. he smiled, and in  an attempt at humor said, i'm disappointed with how i did. fishing out for a curious "why is that," which i obligingly asked. "because i won't surely take the top spot" he responded with a familiar grin. then added, "perhaps I'll grab the sixth or seventh. no big deal". that last line i immediately dismissed as bragging. just his way of taking the stress of the exam off his system. so we went out with the family for a pig out celebrating the end of my brother's 6-month ordeal preparing for and taking the bar exam. what i and the entire family didn't know though was we're in for a huge surprise the minute the results were announced four months later.

i was in the middle of sleep when  a phone rung waking me up. phone clock said 12:30 pm. I picked it up, saw lex, my brother, was the one calling. "hello," i said over the cheering voices in the background. "lab nailed it, got 7th!." "Holy F," was what i afforded to say. dumbfounded. goosebumps manifesting all over my body. after talking to him i dialed my brother's number. "kuy?" he answered, obviously expecting me. "i am disappointed of you," i started, "why the hell not grab the 6th and just settled for the 7th?" I asked, trying to sound serious. "I apoligize he said, I did my best" trying too hard to suppress his jubilant emotion. then we laughed. i congratulated him. my brother, he passed the bar, grabbed 7th place, lawyer at 25. then it dawned on me. our conversation. how he said he might land the 6th or the 7th. reminded me of the dick line, it ain't bragging if you can back it up. he's one bad ass, to say the least.

sio pao

June 26, 2009

jumbo siopao asado’y nas’an. kinutkot nang marahan, kakarampot ang natikman. mandurugas. akala ko ay sulit pero di pala, sayang lang nagtinapay na lang sana. ‘kala ko espesyal ngunit di pala pero panu ba malalaman kung di ko bubuksan. subalit huli na ‘di ba, bayad ko wala na. parang tao rin pala di mawari hagga’t di lubos kilala. siopao ang panlabas, hangin lang ang laman sayang lang, nagtinapay na lng sana. bulaan.

paold

June 25, 2009

how are you paold? what’s with that blank stare? we barely talked the last time i rushed by and it had been just over a month ago. how was the arthritis? had been a pain in the ass i bet, i mean joints and all. i remember the brisk little baby steps that you’d do when walking. your hanky covering your forehead against the blinding noon light, i behind you, forced to walk in a relaxed, carefree manner careful not to outpace you while ton rushed ahead of us to the nearest shade and waited only to rush again to the next until we all reached home. you never fail to amuse me pa. you’re one heck of an old man. the smartest, wisest i’ve known. your thirst for knowledge was what i look up to, your love for numbers, general knowledge, literature. you were fond of humming classic bikol songs and declaiming poems as old as your white hair, reciting each line–spanish, english, bicol–word for word as vehemently as a theater artist. damn you knew them by heart. were you as romantic when you were young? your bicol poems, tigsik, were my favorite. you were also an expert on numbers. thing that kol nong, te lhers and dhen fell heir to, to my misfortune and mhie perhaps. you did act as my tutor for a brief week when i was in highschool, too bad i didnt share your fondness for numbers. what i did have is your humor, and ton and lab too, especially kol nong and many others. wish you could tell funny stories again, the ones abruptly paused by your loud hearty laugh. kol nong is fond of doing that too. remember your favorite dolphy show and how it summoned your thunderous belly laugh each thursday nights? that was crazy. that show and the daily news programs were shows you never wanted to miss.  it was almost imperative that anyone who happened to be with you pay attention to the news too. you were hard on hearing and would oftentimes ask what the news was about all after the seemingly focused attention you give the TV. usually drew a laugh from us and a cuss from you when no one bothered to catch the news. it was amusing when you’re pissed, cursing out loud. well, you never really got angry as often and as loud as you’d curse. i like that about you. you’re as calm and as gentle as one could ever be, except when cursing. well, it was an expression, i know. i could count with fingers on one hand the number of times you had lost your temper. you always kept your cool and would rather face life in an easy, contented, comic way. almost childish even. showed a lot when you play dama, your favorite past time. i missed playing that game or at least seeing you and ton slugged it out. you really enjoyed playing it, especially each time you won–which was almost always–and then there came the all-time paold belly laugh after each match almost mocking. we also played billiards one time, it surprised me that you could pocket some balls, but then it includes angles and estimation, so why the hell did i wonder. aside from these pastimes, when not pre occupied, you would sleep. you sleep a lot sleepyhead. we used to be bedmates. as consistent as the sun’s setting were your power yawns which were half as loud as your sneeze and had about the same decibels as your belly laugh. then followed by your power snore moments later. equally bizarre were your activities like filing your finger nails with mere gillette, weekly visit to your favorite barber for your otherwise baldy head and  the ceremonial application of pomada never a gel. you were also a good whistler, an extremely neat and organized person, you never stuttered, always relaxed, good conversationalist, bad listener–i mean bad on hearing, a one funny old man. not only were you an interesting   person, you also possessed the gentlest of heart. never had i met someone with an ever cool temper and one who’s so thoughtful and caring. i saw how concerned you were when kol nong was sick, checking the forehead for temperature, constantly asking how he felt and all. exactly how a worried dad attends to his bunso. you showed and would show the same care and concern to any of us. i just hope you’d feel the same now that you need that same care more than ever. i was stunned when i saw you again, half the weight lost all in a month. as if something ripped your health away. our comic paold, our ever-gentle ever-loving paold. it was a shame we had to move your birthday celebration a day earlier, i mean we’re no Gloria, and your birthday was not a regular holiday or something. but then it made sense, today on your very special day, you could barely talk or recognize us anymore. it hurts rushing you now to the very place you dislike most. much more to see ton place his hand on your chest greeting you a happy birthday, the saddest greeting i’ve ever heard. nothing much i can do, holding your hand i don’t have the strength to utter even a single word. just staring at you and the cold presence of an emergency kit inside this moving vehicle. but the ominous siren is not wailing. perhaps it’s not that serious. i know. i’m fooling myself.

keeping the dream alive

June 11, 2009

“scientist, astronaut, police officer or engineer, what do you want  to be when you grow up?”,  ”scientist”, said i. the naivety of a child is amusing. i’m sure kids had been asked, at one point, this jaded question. it only shows how we, by culture or norm, are so  driven by dreams and aspirations that it’s almost a requisite for  kids to have one way before they learn the twinkle-twinkle song. the thing is, what most fail to realize is that dreams is something that is supposed to be pursued. can’t blame kids if no one bothers to explain that the question when answered doesn’t end there, that they need to work on it.  of course we figure it out as we grow up. each of us has his dreams, ambitions, goals and desires, what’s interesting is that we were introduced to the concept of dreams and ambitions at so young an age that we have plenty of time–practically a  lifetime–before us to achieve it, and achieving it is the hard part. involves tremendous will and determination peppered by challenges and sacrifices before one could live their dreams in the real world. sad how some settle for something less, when dreams stays as dreams and the will to achieve it dies along with their hope of ever realizing it. 
i too have been struggling to reach what i want in life. in retrospect, it has been a fair attempt, though what i am now is nothing close to being a scientist, not that i wanted to be one. in any case, let this post serve as a reference as i take yet another shot at pursuing my dreams, and when everything is settled in the future when my dreams turns into reality, i sure am going to pay a visit and perhaps leave a personal comment saying “damn i made it”.

bless the drunks

June 10, 2009

   

when demon bless the booze and losers take some swigs, damn the greatest of blunder occurs. that which tops the chart for most pathetic. snafus are left in the wake of fools that had too much to drink and can’t take any sense of control over themselves. have they always been under the false assumption that heavy drinking makes license for stupid theatrics which they can always get away with? booze loosens the tongue, where one could say words his sober self could not as much as utter, much more yell while sobbing. pathetic. worse when the tongue turns into sharp  uncontrollable butcher knife slashing and hacking anyone with mere offending words. it’s also funny how these bastards amp up their arsenal when drunk. to them alcohol is what spinach is to Popeye, a sudden upgrade on guts, bravery and–the one thing i could never stand–dauntlessness all for show. the kind that would never surface unless aided by toxicity. pathetic coward bastards. when will they ever realize that everything’s an illusion. nothing’s real except the disdain of the inconvenienced. the devil’s playing with their feeble minds. or is it even fair that we drag the devil into whatever fuck ups caused by these drunkards, even it would cry foul. it’s all about the drunkards, their boo boos and nothing else, blaming it to the booze is even lame. if they could only find what little inner strength they have to control this insanity, self destruction and self humiliation. i have nothing against drunks just the nasty unacceptable craps they do under the influence.

cee zees

May 5, 2009
comfort zones, i am amazed by how this concept influences so  much a person’s actions and  emotions. a mere human perception  yet holds undeniable influence, if not control, over one’s life. not a  psycho-freak (psychology that is) but i suppose one’s confidence  is proportional to the expanse of one’s comfort zone. one’s  ability to cope up with the changes surrounding him and the  capability to face them head on is one way of expanding these  so-called borders. easier said than done i guess. if only comforts  zones are as flexible as adjusting the size of a circle in microsoft paint. i have my comfort zones too, and it’s a constant challenge of  broadening them each time a new trial is faced, unfamiliar grounds reached or huge changes taking place that needs getting used to. i  bet there’s a ton of books, papers, magazines, blogs, references  that in one way or another offer tips and ways of addressing  jitters brought about by these so-called comfort zones. but come  to think of it, if these zones are mere perceptions, and if  perceptions are but products of the human mind, why not just  forget it as though it does not exist. so no more comfort zones bordering ones’ confidence and ones’ doubts. so there’s no more  referencing as to how far a person’s ability could stretch when  facing challenges or conquering fears. most importantly,  there’s no telling how great one’s potential could be as there is no  border, even imaginary, to consider. there’s no limit. of course it  not that easy. if the concept of comfort zone is wiped out from the archive of human cognizance, another psychology nut will just step up and say “hey i feel an unexplainable kind of uneasiness  today and i dont know what to call it…” and will later come up with another nifty term that is synonymous to comfort zones.  comfort  zones, although a mere perception, is as real, as tangible and acceptable as the human concept of change and undeniably a  part of the daily hustle and bustle of human life.

like brothers

April 8, 2009

one of the strangest experiences i’ve had was when i spent a week’s off in Bicol. i saw my brother’s notebook laid open on a  table. he was taking up law, out of curiosity i picked it up just to see how it compared to college notes. what happened next was, i would  say, insane, i couldn’t even remember having been astounded like that before. my brother’s cursive handwriting was eerily identical to mine, i mean they were closely alike i almost believed i wrote it. the strokes, the curves, the slants, damn  it was crazy! i even grabbed a pen and copied an entire sentence on  another sheet and compared both hand writings. it was just crazy! it was like bumping into a stranger whose face a spitting image of you. it was insane, upon scrutiny i saw some minor differences but damn at first glance they looked exactly the same. i rushed the notebook and the sheet to my brother to share what i  discovered. he was surprised but not as stupefied as i was. this is one of the sickest, weirdest, craziest experiences i’ve had. i wonder if i could file forgery.

the beast inside

April 4, 2009

 

tell you what, there’s a beast in me
i bet you’re not aware of
i’m silent yes i am
gets offended and violated just as most of us
silence does not always mean fine
especially when i’m not my silent self
the kind of silence you’re not used to
when that occurs
step back and cease whatever it is you’re doing
for this beast in me abhors you and what you fucking do
and it takes an enormous fuck up, yours, recurring faults
to piss the beast inside and i won’t feel sorry
we all have beasts in us, but mine is leashed rather  tightly
you don’t even know it’s there
yet watch your words, your actions even closely
its straps as thick as patience
stretch the straps too far with your mindless exploitation
i’d free the leash myself
this beast in me, you don’t want pissed
i myself don’t like it either
one time you bumped into it, you stumbled
now you have a clue, when the beast is stirred
and the leash is  loose, shut up
your fault i doubt within your grasp
you never seem to learn
dont fucking play the shithead
your every fuck up counted, the beast never forgets
just waiting for the time
for the sweetest retribution

silent sun

March 20, 2009

if life is a universe, i’d be the sun. within my solar system are the entities i care for and love. the rest are nameless heavenly bodies i treat with disregard. a descriptive essay about me says ‘he who walks in serenity and treats the world with nonchalance’ or something like that. i suck when it comes to direct quotation but that was the thought. so true. words and thoughts of those within my glalaxy are the only ones that matter, the rest, i couldn’t care less. half the fun are wasted for minding what others think or have to say. spontaneity. i love that word. follow the dictates of your heart and damn what others say or think. feels good to act and speak and think like the mischievous child, at some point, we all once were. of course you don’t see this part of me, i’m fun and exciting and spontaneous as hell. you’re not part of my system, are you? i’m the silent one to those existing outside my universe.  i am a silent sun to you, not a dead star but a silent one whose thoughts and opinions and spontaneity stops right where the silence starts. right where you are. i am a silent sun, surrounded by the entities i love, respect and care for. the rest, i treat with silent disregard.

caution: privacy line, do not cross

January 9, 2010
i watch my own privacy as closely as a secret service securing POTUS (can’t use GMA without understating my point). i take it seriously, guard it as though my life’s on the line, value it more than one might a friendship, and will not allow anyone to cross the huge red line without my consent. doing so inadvertently is acceptable. could shoot one right between the eyes though should s/he utterly violate my highly valued personal privacy. no one messes with it, and nobody should in the first place. privacy owes its very existence to respect. however, respect in this case is just a one long flimsy yellow cordon deployed around one’s privacy telling anyone not to cross. and flimsy as it is, you could expect another person to simply ignore it and cut across, worst when others, with utmost disrespect, ravish one’s much valued privacy more sickening and despicable than a group of thieves wrecking and ransacking one’s own house right in front of its owner. unspoken rule is, never cross the line, respect the yellow cordon, wait until consented before even attempting to lift the damn yellow ribbon that is respect. deliberately doing otherwise is as despicable as grabbing one’s privacy by the collar, shoving it to the ground, stomping all over it and tossing it right into the bin. nobody does it on purpose, it is one of the many things you don’t take for shit, no gross intrusion, no invasion, no breach, nobody disrespects anybody’s privacy as easily as entering the men’s piss room, doing so is just off, below the belt, foul. so never barge into anyone’s privacy ever, as it warrants nothing less than losing another person’s respect, or worse.

boxed up

January 8, 2010

life is a huge box filled with challenges and surprises, there inside we exist frantically. the key, as they say, is to think outside the box in order to succeed. this line has been said and written many times over but for some reason only a number were able to grasp it fully, exploit it, harness its potentials, take great advantage of it. these people were the ones able to figure out the mystery of the box and undo it. everyone has the ability to crack and defeat the box enclosing him/her. the magic phrase is not giving up. many were able to successfully decipher their own personal box only to find themselves inside another one, a much bigger and more difficult to solve. those who give up and stay contented are left behind while those who persist work their way out and into a new one. Life is a box within another box inside another one and it never ends. It seems like a fact of life, the more box you unravel the tougher, the wiser, the better and the more successful you become. only question is, after clearing all those boxes, are you still the same humane person that you were starting out.

brip na madungis

November 10, 2009

naglalaba nakatanga brip na madungis nakakula nang bukas ay may magamit, sana umabot hanggang makalawa. naglalaba nagiisip nagkukusot nakatanga brip na madungis unti-unting umaayos na, di katulad ng  isip na nananatiling may mantsa na sa bawat pagkusot lalo lang lumalala. masakit sa ulo lalo na kung pilit iisipin at sa bawat subok sa pagsisid ng mga sagot ay lalo lamang napapatunayan na sadyang malalim hanggang muntik malunod. tunay na may sagot na hindi lang basta-basta nakukuha at may tanong naman na mas mainam ay tanong na lamang at kung pilit mong aalamin mapipikon ka lang. dahil ibig mang arukin sadyang kusang mailap, ang sagot na hinahanap nakakubli sa mga ulap. tagu-taguan hanggang mahibang sa kakahanap ng sagot sa tanong na tila ba’y walang sagot, at kung meron man t’yak hindi mo malalaman. masmainam pa siguro kung pababayaan na lang at titigilan na ang pagisip at paghanap sa sagot. bumalik na lamang sa labahing pilit na kinukusot na ngayon ay malinis na, habang nakatanga, buti pa labahin ko di na gaya nung una na madungis. di tulad ng isip ko na sadya pa ring tuliro. kinusot piniga binalnawan na at lahat hindi pa rin nagbago ang estadong magulo.brip kong madungis sinampay ngayon malinis na subalit ang iniisip sinampay wala paring pinagiba–tuliro.

two simple questions

October 6, 2009

 Have you found joy in life? Has your life brought joy to others? These are the questions one has to answer before being rewarded the afterlife. whether one attains it or not will depend on his/her answer.  well, that’s according to the Egyptian beliefs. i came across that idea yesterday in the movie The Bucket List, and those lines were asked by Carter Chambers (M. Freeman) to the reluctant Edward Cole (J. Nicholson) . i was just blown away by the simplicity of the questions, by the entire idea of how one’s life could be judged just by raising  those two rather simple questions. not that i believe in the Egyptian belief of afterlife, but if asked by Mr. Egyptian god, i’d quickly say yes to the first question. although for the second one, whether my life brought joy to others, just like Edward Cole, i’d hesitate and would answer “ask them”. perhaps Mr. Egyptian god would reply “i’m asking you”, and the stubborn me would shoot back “your second question is subjective, how would you know i’m telling the truth?”. on second thought, if they had developed some shrewd ancient tools and devised effective techniques for building their pyramids, pyramids that had baffled expert engineers, archeologists and scientists at its perfection for some decades, i’d assume a simple and precise lie detector gadget would be a no brainer. so yes, they might just have something with which to confirm if one lied or not. i’m being silly, i know. but seriously, the second question was a tough one, at least for me. in my life, what might those things be that would have brought joy to others? there must have been a number of them somewhere, i guess. but then, if my life brought joy to others, likewise it may have brought, uhm, i don’t want to use misery, let’s try unhappiness, to others. surely it had. and it was surprising how easy it was to answer the second question if only asked the other way around, “had your life brought unhappiness to others?”  if asked that question, i’d answer a quick yes. although i may have done others wrong in the past, i would have easily and sincerely asked for their forgiveness too. of course there’s no way i’d remember each shortcomings and misdeeds i committed, only one thing i’m certain of.  i tried as best as i could to always apologize or ask for forgiveness whenever i offended anyone, and for me it was as easy as saying thank you to anyone, without ever losing its sincerity. I’m not sure if i’d be granted the eternal life with this answer. there was this one event i could cite no doubt when my life brought real joy to others. Jan 23, 1984. the first time my parents saw their first-born, and my grandparents their first “apo”. other than that, anything else would have an “i’m not sure” answer. maybe if i look back on the first question, i may just find the answer to the second. joy and happiness enwrapped me whenever i touched another person’s life and knew that i somehow brought joy to them too. it could be anything from selfless act of helping, of sharing, for showing genuine concern, showing love, respect, care, understanding, compassion; uplifting the spirit, providing hope, light, inspiration; simple things like making others smile, or laugh or feel loved, appreciated. those simple things. those were the ones that brought joy to my life, and i guess, in a way, had too brought joy to others. collectively, these little things may just add up to something. something that would have somehow mattered. something that’s probably significant enough to allow me to answer the second question “has your life brought joy to others?” positively.
how about you, have you found joy in life? Has your life brought joy to others?

and oh, do you know what’s next after afterlife?

boat ride (a childhood memory)

September 12, 2009

 i fondly remember this one vacation at my mom’s humble barrio in Pilar back when i was a kid.  the barrio was called Banuyo, then a classic set up of a community where bayanihan was still a common practice. houses were nipa huts built moslty out of bamboo, coco lumber, buri and anahaw leaves. life was simple and easy, there were no TVs or any gadgetries to pass the time, only komiks, chats and folklores. they had no refs, only “dulays”, a jar made out of clay, which kept the water cool. the food were delightful, the freshest you could get, fresh fish, “sugpo”, “gulays”, native chicken, and many more, they all tasted great. no preservatives, very healthy. after every major munching, the only thing i wished they had was something equivalent to a modern bowl, a toilet bowl. yup. and the real story begins here. i had eaten rather too many one morning that my stomach was demanding a quick release. that i told Malol, but was overheard by Paold, funny how young they were then. Malol asked me to wait as someone was still using the “comfort room”–more like a small, roofless enclosure made of woven anahaw. moments later, Paold approached and asked me to follow him, which i did. his one hand carrying a large white plastic container filled with water and  the other his “sagwan”, a boat paddle. the latter triggered a sudden burst of excitement in me, an anticipation of yet another joyous boat-ride. as he prepped up the boat, a small one similar to a wooden canoe, i noticed two planks sitting infront of me. i had no idea what those were for. Paold asked me to refrain from moving too much or shifting weight to either side of the boat lest we capsize. young as i was, i quickly understood his instruction. i hadn’t learn how to swim yet then and capsizing, i recognized, was not a good idea. with a single stroke of his paddle, the boat slowly and smoothly eased forward. headed to a place i didn’t know. seating behind, Paold expertly  navigated the narrow ways crowded by “bakawans”, mangroves, on each side. i was on the mid-part of the boat, moving as little as possible, just tilting head actually, enjoying the mid-morning view of the sea, the skies and the trees before me. the boat-ride lasted just ten minutes or less and we alighted to a nearby small island filled with mangroves and trees. paold took the water container and the planks with him. he then headed for, i guess, his familiar place and set the planks about a meter away from each other, satisfied at the position, he then put the container near one of the planks. he asked me to stand on one of it while he did the same on the other. then out of the blue he dropped his shorts, to my amusement, and started whistling. i did the same and we shared a moment of silence. and not so pleasant scent. after some minutes the ceremony was finished. he washed his, i washed mine and i looked at him and smiled, well, just my way of thanking him. we brought back the planks with us, the empty container and our empty and relieved selves. the boat-ride back was just as pleasant. after reaching home i quickly joined a gang of kids, mostly cousins and neighbors, that were playing. eased from a burden dispatched on a nearby island, i bet i was able to play better and ate even more after. this has been  a childhood memory i never shared or told anyone. my very own quick trip to the shitter with my very own, beloved Paold. i miss you pa and thanks.

paold 2

September 5, 2009

it was like losing a father twice, only way painful the second time.
i and my aunt reached Albay a little over 4am. it was still dark, the air was cool, but nothing compared to the coldness we were feeling inside. the fear of not knowing what to expect was worst. we headed straight to the hospital. i texted my brother for the room number to which he replied moments after. made me assume he was the one attending to Paold that night. that one last night. we found the room after a couple of questions for direction from the nurse’s station. the smell was horrid. i never liked hospitals, it was the scent that made me feel sick. as if diseases and infections were somewhere behind huge two-way doors crouching ready for an ambush. we found the right room, philhealth mixed ward RM 21032. i immediatley saw Malol through the rectangular glass integrated into the door, common to all hospitals, perhaps to keep whatever allergens in without denying one a look from the outside, or the other way around. auntie opened the door and i trailed behind. i had not seen Paold since my last visit two months before,  and i could only guess what he looked like a couple of months later. i greeted Malol, my other aunt and my cousin, i was surprised my brother was not there. then there was Paold, nothing prepared me for what i saw. a man who might as easily had been a stranger, on a hospital bed with the lower half of his body covered with printed blanket. either i did not recognize him or my eyes denied what it was seeing. he was nothing close to the Paold i knew and grew up with. pronounced chin, dry dark-grayish lips, sunken cheeks, high cheek bones, skin seemingly stretched to the forehead devoid of any skin folds. whatever body fats he’d had were gone, the whole of him reduced to skin supported by internal frame with little in a way of flesh. the momentary breathing, emphasized by the regular rising and falling of his chest, was the only indication of life. or what was left of it. his breathing was aided by a four-foot oxygen tank next to the bed, and his body was sustained by whatever nutrients pumped from a dextrose straight into his left arm, veins in particular. a couple of tubes led to two catheter bags, one for urine, the other, i would learn later, for liquid discharges from his operation wounds. i could only imagine the pains he’d gone through, operations and all, before reaching the state he was in. he was asleep. more technically, in stupor–a level of consciousness just short of coma. i had rather thought he was asleep. auntie greeted Paold, like anyone would a father one had not seen for a long time. only more fervent. she lowered her head to Paold’s left ear and whispered, rather loudly, “Papa si Bhie ini, kaiba ko si Kuya,” and started caressing Paold’s forehead, his cheeks, his lips. the surpise her face registered was nothing different to mine. it was stunning. the paold i was seeing before me was something my mind refused to accept as real . but for auntie, with every loving stroke her hand made, came some sort of acceptance. just about the only thing we could do at that moment against the number of things that we, with finality, could not for Paold. i came near Paold, placed my left hand over his chest, bony chest, and like auntie, spoke close to Paold’s ear. “si Kuy ini Pa. mauli na kita?” a sad rhetoric. the sight of him was itself pounding, almost  too much to bear that i’d rather see him go. one thing that was bound to happen, only too soon. a little too soon than what i was prepared for. after giving Paold a dry bath, swabbing and wiping him with a damp towel, auntie fell asleep on the bed adjacent to Paold’s. apparently due to exhaustion from the long travel. i, with no place to rest my similarly tired body on, went home–the first time with mood in gloom. i reached home rather too early that it took me quite a number of loud knocks and calls before the door opened courtesy of my younger brother obviously disturbed from his sleep. i headed straight to the kitchen, set my own breakfast and ate, all by myself. i went upstairs after, greeted my mom good morning, changed clothes and joined my brother to sleep. i woke up in the afternoon realizing it had been a long eight-hour sleep, just enough for my personal task for the night. my last personal task for Paold. i took my late lunch and immediately prepared to return to the hospital. the corridor was a maze, poorly thought off for a place where time and life was of the essence. i reached Paold’s room taking a route different than what we took earlier. the room was filled with close relatives–Malol, my brother, my cousins, my uncle, auntie was still there, some more aunties and my sister. the room was filled with chats and small talks until dusk where most of them bade Paold, unbeknownst to us all, their last farewell.  the last easy goodbyes which woul be ensued later on by similar melancholic ones. my other auntie, my uncle and i stayed for the rest of the night. we spent most to the night catching up with what each had been doing over the years. exchanging stories while attending to Paold or sometimes just sitting, left with our own thoughts to ourselves. we ate dinner at the hospital, something i surprisingly adapted quickly enough. i ate pancit and puto early that morning joining Malol before i left for home. nurses would regularly barge into the room, taking Paold’s temps, checking if the drips were right, getting his BP, sometimes switching his dextrose with a smaller one, antibacterial, and would switch back to dextrose once empty. they’d also inject anti-bacterial solution into his left arm through a narrow tube branching off the main tube of his dextrose.  during all these, i never saw Paold react, not even a flinch. an hour past midnight, a prescription was handed over by a nurse to my aunt, which my aunt endorsed to me right after i came back from texting outside. signal was almost nil that you had to walk a good twenty or thirty meters outside just to send a single text. i rushed to the nearest pharmacy, which was about two blocks away, and purchased the prescription. i headed back to the hospital 25 mins after and endorsed the meds to the nurses’ station. i had to sign a form too proof of what meds where checked in at what time. moments later another nurse asked me to report to the nurses’ station, which i did, and spoke to what seemed like a chief nurse or someone superior, advising me to return one of the prescriptions–an anti-bacterial vial–in exchange of, what she explained, a more essential prescription. she clarified that what i purchased, although correct was less important than the one she recently prescribed. off i went, back to the pharmacy with the new prescription, the previous prescription, the vial to be returned, a wallet and 200php change from the initial purchase. i was expecting that the price of the new prescription was close, if not slightly higher, to the first anti-bacterial med. the pharmacist announced the price of the new prescription, it was three times the price of the initial purchase, 820php and I was over 400php short. i had to take a jeep to Legazpi to withdraw and return to the pharmacy, purchase the replacement and went back to the hospital which took me over an hour. after submitting the new medicine to the nurses’ station i returned to Paold’s room. we took a nap, it was uncle’s turn to watch Paold. nothing notable happened, just the oxygen running out and the nurse had to change it. morning broke and a doctor came in and greeted Paold with some odd enthusiasm. she was asking Paold how he was, there was no response, she knocked rather hardly on Paold’s chest, one which would surely warrant a wince had it been another person, still no response. she asked me what the family had decided over an emergency dialysis for Paold. i told her there won’t be any more dialysis, it had been decided by the family after a failed attempt at Paold’s dialysis two days before. his veins, they said collapsed and the insertion of dialysis needles were no longer possible, they proposed that a new entry point be made through a major vein in his neck. after all Paold had gone through, the family decided that that was just too much, he’d suffered enough and we just couldn’t allow any more pains. the family went for conservative medication–the saddest of medical terms i had learned. the doctor then asked that one of us write and sign a letter stating that we refused the dialysis despite the doctor’s advice. i texted my mom to come over explaining that the doctor demanded that one of us immediately sign the letter. i got a reply that she was headed to the market and wouldn’t make it until over an hour. that was the weakest alibi i had received. i decided to write the letter and affix my signature. i knew, and my mother knew, that that was as good as signing Paold’s death certificate. my mom also asked that i request for “pahulyo” or the last sacrament for Paold. after signing the waiver, requesting for the last sacrament was just too much for me. it seemed like the end for all of it, the final act of surrender. the acceptance of defeat. and it really hurt having to do all of it all by myself, as if serving Charon for Paold. i was able to request for the last sacrament with the help of a nurse. they too were saddened, first when i signed the waiver, more so when i requested for the last sacrament. all of it happening one grief-stricken Sunday morning, the saddest day of my life. amidst the sadness, i received a text message from my brother reminding me to bring Paold’s ID for discounts on whatever prescriptions we ought to purchase. i mentioned the prescription i bought over the night that was worth over a thousand. my brother, a nurse, replied frantically asking what the meds was for and why it cost too much. i had no idea, i told him, and forwarded the medicine prescribed. at once my brother rushed to the hospital warning me not to purchase any prescription until he arrived. thirty minutes and two more prescriptions later he entered the room, asked for the prescriptions right away and indignantly informed me that the initial prescription was wrong, thus the request for a swap and not because the new prescription was more essential than the first one. the nurse simply made a mistake of prescribing an entirely different medicine than what she was supposed to. my brother was as surprised at the price of the recent prescription and elected to visit the pharmacy where i purchased the item from. he learned that what i was given was a branded one, not  the generic. he rushed back to the hospital, asked the nurse for the medicine, explaining he’ll return it, without much in a way of conversation. i had to admit then how matured and decisive my younger brother had become. he returned to the pharmacy, requested for a return and in a very polite manner pointed out how important the medicine was to us and the number of generic meds we could have purchased for the same amount. we got a full refund, my brother, my renewed respect. i was aware of the sacrifices my brother took for Paold, he and three of my cousins–two both nursing studes–were the ones looking after paold, doing almost everything a nurse should for him, with added care and affection of course, that even the hospital nurses had nothing much left to do, except when they were not around. i also saw the respect that the other hospital nurses regarded my brother. he decided to purchase the generic meds by himself, asked me to go home and take some rest and that he’d take it from there. i was just proud of him. i came home, ate my lunch, fell asleep and woke up half-past three in the afternoon, decided to take a shower moments after. in the bathroom, a sudden attack of sorrow dawned on me, with the sprinkle of the water from the shower came an invitation to weep. to cry. as a stream of tears would definitely camouflage itself among the seemingly similar liquid state of water. a perfect excuse. cover. but i did not. i had to pull myself together, towel-dry myself, gather some strength and head out. darting towards the stairs i saw my youngest brother holding mom by the arm. she was crying. a suspended  needle suddenly pierced my heart. i asked my brother “wara na si Pa?”, a nod.

beast and wild bloom

August 8, 2009

  

i traversed the woods of life and there found i a blossom wild. all kinds arrayed yet one outstood to which a rogue beast like i  was lured. what spell this bloom to me hath cast and what charm and magic it posessed. the beast that i was couldn’t grasp its warmth and tender infuence.

cops vs. cops

 

 

July 30, 2009

 i was about to cross a street yesterday morning when i witnessed an exchange of words between two cops. it was an encounter i should say synonymous to phenomenon, rarely would you see a traffic police reprimanding a fellow police for violating a simple traffic rule. it was amusing that the attention some fellow pedestrians gave was one reserved for witnessing once in a lifetime occurrence. the “traffic officer” (both were cops but just to set one from the other) was in white gala long sleeves and brown pants which was a common police uniform and the other one was donning a blue  long sleeved shirt with bold prints pronouncing his being cop, this paired with pants of the same color. the violation was a simple walking outside the designated traffic fense, fenses which in some areas clearly delineate, arrowed instructions included, areas where homo sapiens ought to stay. the officer would have just let it slide had the offender been a civilian. with terse reminder or even curt advice, he would surely have just easily let it pass. but not with this fellow cocky police, definitely one of the things that set the officer off too. it was obvious that the offender hadn’t seen it  coming, he was surprised his fellow cop didn’t recognize the impunity that came with the uniform, one of the damn illusions some abusive cops had. the officer quickly called the attention of the offender, not employing his dangling whistle but a one similarly effective and rather  rude psssst (whatever the hell the english term for it). condescendingly, he pointed out the other one’s violation, perhaps with pinch of satisfaction, emphasizing the offender’s being ignorant of simple traffic rules that even civilians, fingers pointed  to us, were obeying. that was one hell of a virtual slap in the face. a cop reprimanding a fellow cop like a kid chastised for playing outside the yard, all in front of mix amused and surprised pedestrians. not every day you’d see such scene. the mere fact that the crowd, including me, were astounded was itself disturbing. meaning, what happened, unusual as it may seem, was but proper. cops ought to uphold the law and ensure that no one was above it, not even fellow cops. on the other hand, people in uniform were supposed to follow state laws, decrees, regulations including rules as negligible, and to some, insignificant as traffic rules. and i was referring to all people in uniforms including MMDA personnel who were so used to riding with their badges or rather sashes, funny ones, for fair exemption. now, if only the system worked that way where cops sought after the welfare of citizens making sure laws were observed and reprimanding anyone violating it regardless of status, of worn uniform or of position held. ever seen a traffic officer reproaching a congressman, a legislator who’s writing and enacting laws, for a simple traffic violation? hell of a scene it would surely create.

random thoughts

May 7, 2010

why are you putting your hands inside your pocket? people doing that are those who are busy doing nothing. Uhm, i’d rather keep my hands inside. you dont wanna see a couple of middle fingers stickn out, do you?

going to the office passing by edsa taft, i noticed a huge billboard ad of Binoy with a tag line, “bago mag aksyon, magproteksyon”. it rests atop the sogo hotel flanked by two fastfood chains chowking and mcdo. i easily found the ad terrible. i mean, who the hell needs a condom when eating.

i and tin were eating pasta and chicken when i realized that the word chicken-breast is a misnomer. been eating chicken all my life but i have never seen any chicken nipples before. haven’t caught a mama hen breast feed either. chicken chest is perhaps the more correct term, but i think it applies to papa roosters only. damn.

peacock is also a misnomer, no part of its body resembles a pea, more so a cock.

we watched ironman 2 last sat. tin noticed some flaws in the movie, in the race track scene ivan vanko was rammed against the wall repeatedly by stark’s chauffer but he survived without even breaking a bone. ironman’s armored knuckle failed to crush Ivan’s face either after some blows.

tin finds ironman’s circular chestbeam cooler than the triangular one. i would have to agree. throw in a red cape and he looks just like another superhero in a full body armor. not that superman needs an armor. this brings me back to my childhood superman curious question. is the man of steel even circumcised? well, kryptonite blades i guess.