ALL TALK

[Memories on November 29, 2012]

Time and again it has been proven, that when it comes to tomorrow nothing is certain.

The GSIS is like a conventional doctor with a paraphrased age-old motto, you follow what it would say but it won’t follow on what you did do. You try filing a monetary claim at their strictly designated unsympathetic, strict filing clerk, and in turn, she’d give you a kilometric list of documents to be submitted as if they were just making sure you’re not a suicide bombing jerk.

Then you patiently asked them seven times seven times, if they were so sure only those documents were all they needed though you felt like you’re indicted for high crimes. And that GSIS frontliner, surer than a bogus private insurer, would reply a dry “Yes, Sir” which made you think you were Batman and her “The Joker.”

And you made a king’s vow before her aesthetically-challenged poker face, never to return therein unless you bring everything in utter completeness. Some arduous and hard days’ nights came to pass. The most awaited D-Day has arrived at last. You were bringing those bulky documents the way the world was carried by Atlas. From your home bed that day to the GSIS palace you thought of nothing but fat check and pretty cash.

But some expectation only led to frustration. Another clerk therein needed more documents in addition. Such kind of moment in this very complicated and incomprehensible life would surely tempt you to understand why some bombers don’t mind suicide. The GSIS apparently exists to bolster member’s sufferings and strife. Like private insurers, it is all talk and pure hype.

Like the three giant firms trying to outdo each other in insurance coverage to conquer the market. Insurance Firm “A” confidently announced they were insuring anyone from basket to casket. Unperturbed, Insurance Firm “B” advertised it with aplomb, that their insurance policy would cover members from womb to tomb.

Like your GSIS behaving badly, Insurance Firm “C” upped the ante. And the result was all the people trooped to its office for immediate registration. All because it’s so far the only insurance corporation, which policy period would cover from erection to resurrection.

SHE LOVES ME, YEH YEH YEH

[Memories on November 26, 2012]

In this period in life called Nice Age due to technology’s revolution’s blinding speed time now doesn’t fly, but like a lightning in the sky, it just zaps before your eye instead. As life is like a bursting bubble indeed, it feels like it’s only yesterday that you were a kid.

All things seem to be not as what they appear since they all just look like magic. When you face the mirror every morning you suspect someone’s playing on you a trick.

Every day’s reflection that changes a bit would not surely go unnoticed. How would you explain that receding hairline and a constantly sagging face?

As time goes by these things make life so strange, more so when some beautiful faces are not included in a change. Like a fool who believed then it was far better to have a pretty woman with an ugly character than a virtuous one yet not possessing even an eye sparkle of a Linda Carter.

What a twisted belief really! Well, every generation has its own stupidity.

That fool though learned not to go against a woman’s tide often, and swim with or on what flows. He’d just make the most of what comes around and the least of all that goes.

I used to believe too that, compared to a man’s, a woman’s mind is far cleaner, well, it’s all because almost the whole universe then felt it drastically changes oftener.

Not today, women are firm as they have the power now. They can make men dance before them and vow. That’s why I have stopped arguing with my friends from Gabriela. And when it chose Manny Villar over anyone in 2010, I stopped voting too for Bayan Muna.

We can definitely stop Charter Change but not the change itself. And you didn’t know you’re exposed though you tried to hide your own self. You’re surprised the world knew the day you were born, forgetting it was all because of the web from which there’s no hidden information.

Only a fact didn’t change that each year added to your age is definitely another step nearer to the grave. You’re just happy Psalm 37:25 (KJV) was right indeed: “I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor His seed begging bread.” 

Be thankful though for someone who’s stuck on you, be it you’re good or bad. As one tune goes, with love’s like that, you know you should be glad.

And you are clinging on to her too, birthday or no birthday. The thing is, you know she loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah.

MONEY AND PACQUIAO ONCE MORE

[Memories on November 29, 2013]

I could sense Manny Pacquiao’s fists of fury notwithstanding his calmness as he was interviewed on TV, relative to the tax evasion issue hurled against him by the B.I.R. just lately. Well, he may be a hero but Pacman should not take lightly those serious charges. In my honest and friendly piece, they are posing more danger than Bradley and Juan Manuel Marquez.

Pacman’s current enemy is an overhauled institution—although the timing is bad regarding Manny’s prosecution—now headed by a bureaucrat so relentless. But I like the way B.I.R. at present conducts its business under a no-nonsense leadership by a woman herself, no bull but full of balls, Ms. Kim Henares.

Pacman has no one to blame for this latest caper but his accounting or legal representative/s. As a seasoned pugilist, now evangelist, Manny Pacquiao knows that “It is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35).

If he believes in that Biblical principle in his life likewise when it comes to giving and taking punches, he should apply the same principle concerning his basic obligation as a true blue Filipino: correct payment of taxes.

It’s chiefly because Manny is already now a Bible-believing Christian, who stands his ground, defends his faith, and holds no grudge until he regains his country’s pride and honor’s badge. Therefore he knew it is Christ Himself Who preached about paying taxes, in a token and in a wad: “Render therefore unto Caesar the things which be Caesar's and unto God the things which be God's.” (Luke 20:25).

Had all previous B.I.R. chiefs been as diligent and determined as Ms. Henares in subjecting high profile Filipinos even to a wild goose chase anent demanding taxes, we the poor and needy, the less and the ordinary, in this long abused republic would never be shortchanged anymore by the privileged wantonly bathing in riches.

Yeah, B.I.R. may be right but its timing is bad, however, although Manny fought tooth and nail literally to earn his money, and honor for this country, still he has this basic and elementary law to obey, i.e., first and foremost, pay taxes dutifully.

He may say he has already given to the national treasury millions of pesos of tax out of his own sweat and blood from those jabs and right hooks he fired, but as Bible enthusiast, he must have read it in Luke 12:48 that to whom much is given, much is required.

And how much is One Billion Pesos? Countless, in any which way I find, and even by just thinking about it could not fit anymore in my mind. For even a tiniest fraction of that amount in cash or in kind, I’m sure I can never ever have, even in seven lifetimes.

Those who are given such privilege to have it, they may retain their previous senses. With great power from great riches, come great social responsibilities. A person’s character can be defined only in times of abundance and want and when he’s the most and the least. For money can be one’s subservient servant or an enchanting lord and master both in times of war and peace.

When properly dispensed, money’s always a better motivational friend if not the best. Be careful though, it’s also an enemy so ruthless, and worse, it’s a knock-out artist.

BIRTHDAY AND JOLLIBEE

[Memories on November 25, 2014]

For they’re a jolly good fellow,—but very loud-mouthed too—that nobody can deny. Therefore, my diligent efforts to deny that yesterday was my birthday all proved futile.  Okay, many decades ago, exactly on the day yesterday, a Monday—I let friends tell the year exactly—the story of my life began officially, neither with a bang nor a whimper but with a simple cry just like everybody.

I could still replay in mind vestiges of joy and happiness that did dominate this life since I was three. How can I forget those years when the regular menu was that familiar sweetened porridge “only”? But don’t you ever underestimate the power of its taste when it’s mixed superbly with testosterone-booster coconut milk and scraped young coco fiber we only cooked annually. The joy was exhilarating. The satisfaction was everlasting.

I never had the chance to blow a birthday candle from childhood to puberty until lately, but that’s insignificant as it taught me well the virtue of accepting things and event come what may. Just only four years ago that I had had my first cake, that was why I never did try neither did learn to make a birthday wish.

Early in life, despite the colors around were dull and drab, I knew already the great divide between a “have-not” and a “have.”  Therefore, after I felt for the very first time that amazing feeling called “crush,” all I dreamed about was to love and be loved.  To be loved by my “crush” simply.  And, yes, to love Jollibee.  It’s because Jollibee and my unforgettable “crush” were related to each other.  She was like Lucy in the sky with diamonds which, almost like Jollibee, were seemed to be forever.

I first heard the word Jollibee back in the first semester of 1984, from a sojourner in our house named Ms. Cora Alinea, then a UDMC Cubao Nursing senior. Along with her another gal classmate and obviously close buddy, they came for OJT elsewhere in the province for a week stay.

Oh, how lovely and wonderful that strange feeling for a stranger was, of an innocent creature’s in his puberty for his first serious “crush.” If I could only put that one-week time with her in a bottle when my heart did beat abnormally fast, I’m sure I would, just to make those mem’ries last.

Yesterday, it was a good thing there was a celebration in my workplace courtesy of our supervisor, although I was not around for I believe that when I’m on duty, it’s always business before pleasure. Of course, I have had readied myself for a treat though with only a little budget for it, but when I happened to drop by in a hospital for a confined relative I know what to do when the matter’s between life and death.

I never cease to dream that one day I could celebrate my birthday right inside Jollibee no matter how it’s too late. Just like my hope that Ms. Cora Alinea would show up one day and treat me at its very first store in Cubao to fulfill her promise.

But if ever on my succeeding—God willing—birthdays, there’ll be again some more pressing need, to cancel the celebration of joy—or Chickenjoy for that matter—I know I will never hesitate. Like God for us sinners to repent, He’s here today to give that chance, and to accommodate. Thus, if you have that real desire now to surrender as well your life to Him, you better grab it.

It might be that like Jollibee to a human promise, not all the time heaven can wait.

GRACE AND MASERATI

[Memories on November 29, 2014 at 4:31pm]

I agree with Lourd de Veyra, “ang babae ay parang Cubao, may ibabaw, may ilalim.” Allow me to add, “mababaw na mahirap maintindihan, malalim na mahirap intindihin.”

But to understand people we need better judgment always. And better judgment comes not from the brain but God’s grace.

Sometimes I feel like stupid especially if I commit some lapses due to a very poor judgment. It’s when I realize I could have avoided such miscues had I been a little more intelligent. However, I understand too that all human beings in one way or another would commit blunders in their lifetime intentionally or otherwise. It’s because a human who is born of a woman is prone to errors and mistakes even if he or she is a creature most healthy, wealthy and wise.

Look what happened to Philip Morris recruitment executive Mr. Robert Blair Carabuena who drove a Volvo and arrogantly slapped MMDA enforcer Mr. Cabros. I never had a doubt Carabuena regretted what he did because he bit off more than he could chew and carried out that blunder despite his rich boy status.

I was so envious and at the same time so angry of Mr. Carabuena’s “lapse in judgment” or his act of committing that boo-boo. Yeah, I was angry, not in his person though, but in the fact that he was driving a Volvo thus belying other people’s claim that he was a “bobo.”

And now this, just lately, there’s another motorist in the news who allegedly manhandled another traffic enforcer of the MMDA. And this no ordinary motorist again was driving another luxury car which is at par if not more expensive than Volvo probably.

I’m so sorry, boys, but I’m angry again, yet again I’m angry not at the person of a certain Joseph Russel Ingco but at his having a Maserati. How contrasting lives we have because my lone vehicle is an old Honda bike borrowed from my father-in-law which I expect sooner or later, “masisira parati.”

But, that anger and envy would just pass by my heart only and just quickly slip away. By God’s grace, I would realize that that despicable attitude should not a minute stay. That’s why I’m thankful I have accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior because He gave me His grace. Otherwise, it is most likely that I would carry such bad attitude to myself all the way to the grave.

Along with His mercy, it’s God’s grace that taught my heart to fear. The same grace that will sustain my faith always and forever.

FACING THE JUDGE

[November 22, 2014]

If you have nothing to do, watch with keen interest the on-going circus in town featuring serious accusations of plunder, or big-time stealing through stealthy means by our traditional politicians per revelations here and disclosures there.

I tell you, you can’t help but be tickled by an idea that if we’d only take them seriously and charge everyone without fear, this nation will be great again as what was dreamed of by Marcos the Dreamer, and surely, we’ll all be a whole lot better.

It’s just too bad that such Marcos’ ‘glorious’ dream became today’s hellish nightmare for fairness and justice because it serves as bad precedent to the next generation after his. And the main lesson we have learned from it is, if you steal, steal big because you could use the loot to hire a devil’s advocate and still retain a big bulk of it, the small portion to negotiate. 

Part of the negotiation is for the prosecution to file charges which are half-baked or prone to technicalities stealthily.  Buy off witnesses and by tendering them an offer they could not refuse in exchange of sealing lips permanently. That’s why it’s hard for the courts of this land to convict the accused, as its decision is based solely on the evidence presented, not on the truth.

Besides, even with incomplete exhibits at hand, for the sake of it, our police personnel concerned file charges against an accused quickly. They don’t bother to study the case better to cover all the possible loopholes that may come out in the proceedings to make sure he’s guilty.

Now, are you not tired of those same faces and personalities who have governed us for so many years already, doing nothing but enriching themselves in power, take us for a ride all of the time, and abuse their position only?

Me thinks the next time we choose the next national leader through a clean election, it’s much better to try and test an untested one than settle ourselves again with an obvious crook who had magically acquired properties through his being a political veteran.

I fully believe it’s not the current constitution per se that should need a little tinkering but some of the existing laws themselves in the country.  Like, why not we lower the amount involved in plunder from Fifty Million Pesos to Five Thousand Pesos so that we will build a gigantic penal colony?

Why not we change the name of a municipal jail, provincial jail, and national jail into National Hospital or Provincial Hospital or Municipal Hospital to say the least, so that anyone accused or convicted of plunder will have nowhere to go but the renamed jail regardless of granting or denial of his motion for hospital arrest?

The fault is in the implementation of the law, dear Brutus, as the subtle, clever, rich and powerful can anytime beat around the bush. But each one of us will have no one to blame but ourselves, therefore, be responsible for everything we individually picked and chose.

Some will expectedly win someday, others will regrettably lose.  That’s when we’ll face and be judged later by the Burning Bush.

HIT AND RUN

[November 22, 2012 at 2:46pm]

My heart still bleeds for the family and loved ones of a friend of a friend, who turned out later a good friend, who became a hit-and-run victim. As he was the sole breadwinner in the family, on top of being in hand-to-mouth existence, it’s not hard to imagine what kind of life his surviving “heirs” will have because of what happened.

Until now the still unidentified culprit has yet to show up anywhere to admit full responsibility, to have some help to offer. He may be hiding somewhere, yet he’ll be back in the streets sometime later, to bump someone anew with his Fortuner.

Whoever and where ever you are you inconsiderate creature, you may escape from the law but not heaven’s censure. As they say, what goes around comes around, and consequences abound. Whether you’ll be in the waters, in the air or on the ground, a Debt Collector will hound.

Friends, in this fragile life, we should all be careful, whether we’re crossing the streets or resting in a fox hole. In every nook and cranny of this world, there are wolves patiently lurking, ready to pounce any moment on an unwitting and so helpless less victim.

Why do we Filipinos often if not always end up victims of hit-and-run? Had it not for a brave woman, one of her species but of different breed nearly did fly the coop through the airport to have some fun. Marcos and his cronies hit us in the 70’s, ran (away) in the 80’s, and came back with a vengeance with full force in the 90’s.

I had a very close lady friend in college with whom I was—hohum— head over heels, but the thing had been kept behind the veil until this FB narration spontaneously reveals. My courage was nipped in the bud since just as I was ready to tell her she was my “the one,” she confided to me she’d drag herself to marry her neighbor “John” just because her BF “Jimmy” did her “hit-and-run.”

In this life, be alert, be vigilant, like I do when I come inside the chamber to check and peek my FB account with my boss’ desktop and proceed later to scan. All I need is a two-minute break that he has to spend inside the C.R. to take a leak at once, and I have to be fast doing an open-post-click-close sequence as I stand.

It’s like guerilla tactics in a warring land. It’s also a fine example of “hit and run.”

THE LONE KNIGHT

[November 22, 2011 at 12:26pm]

“Don't let it be forgot, that once there was a spot,
For one brief, shining moment, that was known as Camelot."

Because I had a friend there, I once visited and stayed in Camelot. Wherein what reigned over were order and decency, and genuine love to boot. Many had read various versions related to it and their offshoots. But quite a few had some behind-the-scenes eye witness stories to report.

The Knights of the Round Table were certified men of valor and renown. Each and every one of them had only one mission, id est, to defend the king’s crown. My friend was the least known among those valiant warriors. The one taken for granted for until now he was not issued of a horse.

Sir Galahad was so mad at him that he denied my friend often of his help. Knowing he was so loved by everyone as well as the king himself. There was once a time when confusion and chaos passed through Camelot.  Well, It was due to misunderstanding and controversy stirred by Sir Lancelot.

Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad had long gone and disappeared. And in Camelot my friend is now the only knight left and feared. He’s still bearing the Sword of the Spirit and wearing the Helmet of Salvation and God’s Armor. Though on November 19, this king’s namesake’s birthday was missed, still take my greetings, Sir Arthur!

REFRESHING A BOY STORY

[and the greetings as well onNovember 15, 2011 at 1:37pm]

Once upon a time, there lived a boy who was closely related to a crab because we loved to sing for him then a classic song with lines like, “alimango sa suba, ginbantog nga dili makuha.”

Later in his life, perhaps due to his excessive love for his alma mater which willingly received and accommodated him during every enrollment for at least nine years, his one-syllabic nickname was later preceded by the first letter of the English alphabet which resulted to his being becoming a namesake of then notorious alleged Jueteng Lord Charlie Ang, the instigator of Erap’s downfall with a big bang.

When that boy became a full-fledged man, he shamed me by teaching me with his life on how things should be when a man loves a woman.

I thought then I was the only one in the world in real life to love a woman for a long period of time, but this fella put the issue at rest as his kind of love shattered that belief of mine.

I’m also a living witness to his faithfulness.

In my entire existence so far in this world, for my money, I solemnly swear that he had, has, will have only an eye for “April Rose.”  I have never seen such faithfulness in a flesh, that’s why no wonder why the Lord’s blessings for him always come handy and fresh.

His faithfulness to Christ makes us losers to be again inspired, thus I never give up but give always another try.  Thank you for the friendship that feels like God’s sustaining grace.  In your birthday today, wish you more life’s best and our Lifegiver’s peace.

ANOTHER BOY STORY

(Refreshing memories on November 21, 2011 at 12:46pm)

There was once a cute little boy born in Kirayan. He was given by his late uncle of a name equivalent to a chance of a Chinaman. He was naughtier then than Dennis The Menace. With him as playmate, it was impossible to obtain peace.

My first scary experience with him was when we both pumped their jetmatic together, then all of a sudden the handle kicked back and its end hit my eye cover. When blood dripped down my left eye, we both cowered in fear and both did cry.

I was always present in their house especially every April Fourteen and November Twenty. For only on those dates I could have my cake and eat it too for free. As they were the third household to have a TV in our Barangay history, I was also in a long queue of ‘scented’ kids at the door to be let in at his mercy.

When I had my first and only basketball team to manage and coach, he was my one-man wrecking crew and the first live creature to call me ‘Boss.’ When our team lost a chance for the first and final stab at glory, he saw me in tears as I swam out to sea. I knew he was relieved when I swam back to the shore. But he never knew I was thinking then of Jaws which swallow swimmers after crushing them to the core.

We separated ways only when I joined in the world, while he chose ‘daang matuwid’ and followed his God’s Word. We were reunited only when he caused my comeback, through his requested illustration of the KBC gang just for laughs.

That was the beginning of love for the thrill that I feel when I get together with God’s wonderful people. Especially when those kind of people would be no other than KBC’s magnificent young people.

I suspected one time we were weaned together, for our eyes and hearts seemed to have been shaped with the same Molder. As when we’re on our way then to Nikkosland and pointed to him my chosen one, I found out later to my horror that the one I chose turned out later as his Queen Swan.

When on the stage, there were beauties in parade, he was like a mirror-mirror-on-the-wall as he said:

“Take your pick, Boss, and chase your glory.” But the one I’d chosen again was at the time his one-and-only.

From my first class in SB to my cross-enrolment in UP for my Masters of None, he was a reluctant co-designer of all my best laid plans.  Thus, when all things crumbled like a fallen lego, we did stick to each other as we were each other’s alter ego.

But since some good things truly would never last, we separated again to seek each other’s grass. 

It’s November 21 here but November 20 somewhere.

In your special day today I wish you blessings prime. No other than God’s love and care---See you in another best time.

TALE OF THE THREE BARANGAYS

[November 21, 2013 at 8:44pm]

One of the hassles of my job related to the word “deliver,” as I sometimes moonlighting as a rural tracker, at times urban hunter, is when it happens that the address of the object of my desire belongs to the three barangays I most dread in the city proper. These are Barangay. . . well, “Tinapay,” as I call it here as it is to avoid not to be misunderstood since albeit the real word sounds like bread literally, others might take its unprintable homonym and malicious significance because of the Barangay’s notoriety for coconut wine and women with the latter’s anatomy.

Secondly is Barangay “Ambot,” a word of reply in Hiligaynon language which literally means “I don’t know,” because each time you ask around the place about anyone or anything under the sun, I guarantee you, to the extent of betting an in-law, any resident of the said Barangay, from the crawling toddler to a cracking rocking chair-bound dying old man, would be surely innocent and ignorant.

Lastly but surely not the least because I’ve just been there a few hours ago where I gave my very best after they gave me direction and assurance, that my purpose did truly there exist, would be the Barangay “Patalang,” in Kinaray-a and Hiligaynon it means “misleading” or “to mislead,” for after they gave me a sketch there in exchange for a hefty sum, I ended up being misled thus ending my world with a whimper rather than a bang.

I have no doubt that those abovementioned barangays could not just be found here in Iloilo City but also elsewhere in the globe. And I could take Barangays. . . well, “Tinapay,” and “Ambot” anytime sans a friend’s goad, but “Patalang” is so difficult to be swallowed.

Imagine, you are so proud of finishing college despite doing it for nearly a decade and a half though, but only tread upon by some people without anything better to do but make an incurable fool out of you. The incident was enough to bring you at your wit’s end, bring yourself back there too, bring out your Smith and Wesson, and shout “Make my day!” to every fellow.

It’s easy to exact revenge as there are a thousand and one ways to design evil if you only let yourself consumed by fury in slaughtering mood. But you always believe, “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord (Romans 12:19),” and “overcome evil with good” (v.21). And you remember likewise how many times in your life that it was like you made your God a fool also. Breaking your promises made before Him in every twist and turn during happy times, forgetting those vows in painful moments you did do.

Yeah, you’re just blessed to know that He is gracious, plenteous of mercy and slow to anger (Psalms 103:8). Always giving you second, third, and counting chances just to let you and your heart be His forever.

2GO OR NOT 2GO

To reword one Shakespeare’s rendition:  To go or not to go, that is the question.

Last week, I accompanied a cousin-in-law in bringing a hand-me-down sedan from Metro Manila to Iloilo, and so, after soliciting suggestions from friends, we opted for the services of 2Go.  And, bold and fearless as I can be, this is what I’m gonna tell you:  if you have no one there to trust and personally know, find some other shipping companies, believe you me, better forget 2Go.

I despise the company and the way it handles a booking of private cars for their cargo, which is a mess, simple and pure.  It reminds me of the old demon of the kind of service of the now-defunct Negros Navigation Co.:  ‘System Failure.’

If you have a beautiful experience yourself with 2Go, I’m sorry, but I don’t care.  Insofar as my cousin, his son Boyboy and I are concerned, it is a nightmare.  Do not judge me please, I beg you.  Consider the antecedents that follow:

Before we left Caticlan on November 16, I queried 2Go’s office for the booking of that car for November 18.  A security officer gave us two sets of cellphone numbers to contact for such purpose, by someone named “Allen.” 

I contacted Allen and I presented my case but he just texted back to merely give another number by someone they called Mam Argen.  However, I presumed it was a prank number since my messages were ignored, thus Mam Argen might be an impostor if not an alien.

At eight in the morning of November 18 we reached Batangas under the bright morning sun.  The long trip made us tired and wearisome and I tried to book the car for 9PM trip for Caticlan.  There, we were told by a guard on duty that they would not be certain if we’d we accommodated because booking should be made 3 days before the trip, thus, we’d rely only on pure chance.

Well, only a stupid cannot understand such kind of tenor of a language especially in the commerce of men.  Therefore, we had to shell out something handsome that speaks where all creatures, including congressmen, listen.

Indeed, you could not help but pity yourself when you are a hostage by the situation.  You’re under the whims and caprices of one who takes advantage of your condition.  In this case, I believe the blame should be on 2Go itself because of its system.  Its current style of booking of car cargo breeds corruption of its own men.

From now on, I don’t know about you, but if I have to go, I will avoid 2Go.  I will make sure my family and sympathetic relatives my lead they’ll follow.

Unless, of course, mi pariente y amigo, its current booking system has to go.

COMMITMENT

[November 15, 2012 at 11:13am] 

I pity a friend, his wife of ten years left him. No third party involved, things allegedly just didn’t work out anymore for them. Plain and simple, just like that. Like Mang Inasal’s unli-rice, she spewed it out when it was hot.

Is the old saying, “Ang pag-aasawa ay hindi biro, di tulad ng kaning isinubo na nailuluwa kapag ika’y napaso,” now obsolete? The sanctity of marriage, like Charlie Chaplin films, bade goodbye to basic and to Filipino culture because “Modern Times” and “City Lights” turned on the heat.

I’m still not certain though who has truly benefited between them. Was it the impatient and hot-tempered wife or my happy-go-lucky and carefree friend? I’m sad since I stood as one of only two witnesses during their civil wedding. Let alone the fact that the groom got the bride because of a little help from his friend.

Normally, separation would happen because of lack of commitment. Unlike our public officials who lack ethics, in marriage you need it. As I would love to say, “Ethics too to tango,” as that too is basic. Either one or both of you are lacking commitment, say goodbye to your union as it would surely come to its end.

Now, my friend is back to his old ways, or, to be candid, his usual ways. He complicated further the situation by involving himself with various creatures in skirt and lace. He shuns commitment now as he just preferred involvement. He doesn’t take my opinions and concerns anymore as if I’m a nonentity or nonexistent.

I always love and agree with that someone who firmly believes that the difference between COMMITMENT and INVOLVEMENT is sooo big. He said that that big difference is like a difference between the chicken and the pig at a breakfast table of ham and egg. There, as he finely narrated, the chicken is involved, but the pig is committed.

I too broke the hearts of not a few friends, not a few times, because I failed to honor my commitment, though I blamed it to memory lapses mostly, yet still it wasn’t just a simple irresponsibility. Unlike Paul, who conquered himself when he proved what he said, “….I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day.” (II Timothy 1:12 KJV)

ONE MORNING AFTER THE STORM

[November 15, 2013]

Just by traveling via public transportation at least five times a week to and from work for a very long time, I could not help but be aware of other people’s growth and the development of their own lives.

There’s this bubbly, effervescent but fine young lady, but now a charming mother of two, whom I shared a ride with a lot of times since her early years in high school around twenty years ago. I unwittingly watched her when she donned a familiar college uniform too, and so with during the days when that uniform turned into an all-white “terno.”

I have no doubt she enrolled her two young children in her own alma mater either since the little girls’ outfits I guess were exactly like she wore the first time I saw her. Actually, I was a little bit surprised and did not immediately remember when I spotted her only again while she was tagging along with her those two. The interval between us was probably too long for I could not recall any instance seeing her having that “great ball of fire” in front of her torso.

However, since I myself believe that the Truth and the Kingdom belong to the children despite knowing Bill Cosby agreed to the contrary as he thought kids only say the darndest things, I came to understand through their casual conversation then that they were compelled to take public transportation because their family driver inexplicably forsook them.

I laughed in silence as I kept on eavesdropping when mom and daughters discussed how to take a different tack, playfully arguing about their next options for more coming days if the driver would continue his disappearing act.

What intrigued me a little bit though was why I never did hear a thing about their dad. But I wanted to believe that he was elsewhere and busily piling up food and mammon perhaps. The mother was no longer wearing her last outfit which caused me then to call her a standard “white lady.” Well, either she changed career or decided to have the noblest vocation of all: being a full-time mom. Maybe.

I unintentionally watched her grow up through the years while I was frantically sorting out my own life with sunny day’s apes and gorillas in the mist. No, we didn’t, still don’t, know each other till now by name, FB account or email address, and I’m convinced beyond reasonable doubt she even knows that I also exist.

I just can’t help comparing myself to her how she has overtaken me by many, many miles today, considering that her life had barely just begun when I was working with both feet already.

But I suspect she’s only ahead of me when it comes to tangible things because if with her life she’s now so happy, I have my permanent joy myself but only if I would abide in the shadow of the Almighty (Psalms 91:1).

Life is always worth living because my God lives and takes away my fears, regardless of the precariousness of these present times, by faith, my bright future is secured forever. Although I have the same kind of job until now for these grueling years, still, I always love my work despite lacking real and personal improvements whatsoever.

In fact, even if I’m a little bit sick today, not feeling better, I’ve to show my passion for work with more loving care. Metaphorically and literally, slightly begrudgingly, I must stand and deliver….

POOR

[November 15, 2014 at 7:12pm]

Here’s a plain plane tip: if you’d like to grant your desire to hear, without asking first, the voice of that pretty flight stewardess, you better wait when she passes by and disconnect that thing on your waist, and surely she’d sweetly say: “Fasten your seatbelt please.”

But I tell you, it’s a cheap trick. It simply is a poor gimmick.

It’s as poor as my shooting percentage in basketball because of lack of practice or desire to shoot the ball which is understandably pathetic. But it’s not as poor as the missed shots records of Kobe Bryant who was told by someone that the only shot he did not miss is the shot he did not take.

Just like the small claim—no pun intended there, as I always swore—of the Vice President that, despite his second-best government position and glaring possessions, he allegedly is also poor. Oh, boy, I was so ashamed of myself upon hearing it because if he considered himself poor, then that makes me a scum of the universe like a rat or a vulture. My bleeding apologies to all innocent rats and blameless vultures, I don’t mean to degrade you, please, just take it as the Veep’s poor attempt at humor.

I’d like to think that he unintentionally forgot that one can never be mayor, congressman or senator, anywhere in this country, in all candor, if he is truly honestly legitimate poor. Unless of course, he has the charisma of a Monching Magsaysay, the principle of a Rene A.V. Saguisag, an ex-senator, or the previously different Joker Arroyo, not the one who’s Gloria’s defender/mitigator.

Therefore I don’t understand why Binay retreated and canceled his debate with Trillanes, when the veep was the one who courageously posed the challenge to the senator in the first place. In my own humble opinion which majority of the public could concur, that is Binay’s second error. The first one is, he being a lawyer, in challenging a non-lawyer to a debate, his judgment is poor.

I mean, not in financial matters but on those two instances only. As, if he’s not clever and smart, he would not be what he is today. For, compared to Binay, when it comes to generating power and riches, he could say it anytime that I am financially if not mentally retardate. Or simply, in the world of fast-making ventures and adventures to hoard it, I may be called too so very poor in spirit.

Just like when even of your own mother’s birth date, you irresponsibly did forget. That makes you an ungrateful person, if not an insensitive poor son with poor spirit. But know ye that if you’ve settled all matters with your God, you don’t care about society’s judgment, although knowing that so long as only to Christ you put trust and confidence, you believe that “Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3).

So be it.