GO GET UP

February 27, 2013 · 

I couldn’t believe that for two successive years, I’d miss the Oscars live, but I had to prioritize my job last Monday lest I’d ruin my life. Anything can happen really atop the stage, especially when we would talk about the Oscars stage. You saw how Best Actress Jennifer Lawrence did fall and rise, and subsequently gave an outstanding impromptu message that made too the audience rise?

Speaking of stage, at this stage, I’m afraid people are suspecting that for a long time in my life I was maintaining a harem, or my heart easily fell fast and was very deceiving. Perhaps they’re also wondering why it seems that I always have something to connect for almost anything, heartily speaking.

What can I say? Well, I ask you, if you find yourself stuck in a situation where all you do is wasting time and waiting, I guarantee you, you too would remember everything. Actually, spending dull moments for a certain purpose is just another day in the office, in this case, the field, which is a great part of the job.

If you won’t try writing to write off boredom, surely, your work either would never find your love. You just pray you’re always dead sure your kind of ‘revelation’ about those ‘lucky’ women who wittingly and unwittingly managed to evade your wicked heart through all generation would not give away any clue that’d lead to public consumption, that their dignity you enshrined in your heart and held in high esteem since its inception will always be there thought it’s only now no more than just merely for memories’ retention.

If you’re a kiss-and-tell type of a person who loves to destroy reputation only, it will be a different story, and certainly, you don’t need friends even here in FB. Although there are times when some things are better left unsaid, yet everything is best to be reminisced.

The very purpose of this is to learn some lessons from it, that you’d never commit the same mistake once similar situation is later met.

But considering that you’re now approaching the twilight of your existence, knowing that anytime you’d leave from this Earth with or without anyone’s bidding, you’re learning now to appraise those past experiences from different view without much ado, and became grateful at last you finally understood those glimpses of joy you thought would be yours forever but turned out it didn’t mean to be too.

But do it like Ben Affleck who, for me, had the best message during the last Oscars ceremony for us. It was something like when in real life you suffered crash or fell into other people’s wily trap, you don’t hold grudges but rather try to get up.

SIMPLE

February 27, 2014 · 

“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication” —Leonardo Da Vinci

Despite my vicious but precious pride I simply relented and stopped being autocratic in the house last Sunday. I told myself, why not sometimes try democracy? And thus we resorted to division of the house in dealing with our TV. We are five in the house but in the official tally, it was three to one in favour of ABS-CBN’s “Bet On Your Baby.” This after the third vote was canvassed and my three-year-old lady almost abstained but decided to run away, therefore I was left with no choice but to sit back and pretend I was still happy to watch Judy Ann Santos—and my defeat—graciously.

All the contestant couples featured each a pretty momma, but stood out and easily caught my attention was this certain Anna. Right at first sight I remembered instantly her familiar face and graceful motion, and I was right absolutely with my suspicion: she was the same Anna who has become a certified YouTube sensation! She’s sensational in the sense that despite her being full-blooded Russian in thought and emotion, she could sing beautifully any Filipino song from classic one to Pinoy rap in flawless, native rendition.

She could speak Pilipino a whole lot better compared to a pure Pinoy who left for the U.S. and came back six months after. With her talent, charm and beauty, she could have captured the hearts of an English royalty or a billionaire sheik from Saudi if not an heir to the Sultan of Brunei. But she chose a simple life with a simple Pinoy. She gave her commitment and her future to him and opted to live in simple joy. What makes Anna amazingly astounding and beautiful to me the more is her dedication to absorb in her being all the Filipino traits and culture.

No way could we find contentment in living a simple life if we would not deflate our bloated ego ourselves neither hand-check our wicked pride. I don’t mean we have to pretend we are a “have-not” or poor if in truth we are rich, for I also always respect the “haves” and their belief that “If you have it, flaunt it.”

I don’t mean also we have to exaggerate simplicity and humility by means of scrambling the right words irresponsibly like a nerd because although our intention is good or we have no malicious motive, still the result would be awkwardly absurd for others to be heard. Like in an Inquirer’s story lately about a great German pastor who only wanted to be introduced simply as something like just a shepherd of the flock when he was invited to speak, thus the host said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, our today’s guest speaker is a simple German shepherd.”

Finding joy in simple things would be difficult if one doesn’t start from deep within. He has to realign his focus and perspective of life to have a good grasp of it with spiritual understanding. Israel’s King David knew so well the unhappiness and futility of life if he’d live it continuously in defiance of His will and not take on the Lord’s side. Forgetting his majestic pride, he turned back from his sin with Bathsheba and prayed to his God to create in him a clean heart and a right spirit dwelling inside (Psalms 51:10).

King David knew that when seeking true forgiveness from God, things must begin from his heart. It’s just by contrite spirit and unceremonious, plain repentance, just simple as that.

NAMING NAMES

February 27, 2014

Some things—like reputation and identity as well—never change. Even the likes of Miagao PUJ veteran driver, the ageless Mansing.

Last Wednesday, I got the chance to get a ride in his jeepney again early in the morning, and though I never saw his face at first, there was no doubt it was Mansing, judging from the engine’s roaring. Name it, he had it, fast motorcycles, similar PUJ’s, Ceres bus, SUV’s, taxi, van and Volkswagen, in that same instance, Mansing had them all easily overtaken.

In local parlance, they would describe him unanimously as, “daw wa-râ ti atáy.” No wonder in that morning, despite waking up late, I’d still catch work on time. His fine maneuvering in curves and smooth sailing at top speed made me wonder hard why his nickname is “Haló,” Kinaray-a for monitor lizard. In native vocabulary, “halo” connotes stupid, dim-wit or mental retard, yet, if I’d rate Mansing’s driving from one to ten, he’d get eleven, thus that means he’s exceptionally smart. Nevertheless, whether Mansing likes it or not, to him his nickname would be endlessly stuck.

It’s like the case of another city-loop Lapaz-Iloilo PUJ driver who, just a few years ago, despite his being already an octogenarian ‘Lolo,’ was still active in “byahe” or “pasada” but of course he’d run his jeepney practically in slo-mo, which made him earn that sluggish moniker “Ba-ó.” “Ba-ó,” which in local tongue literally means turtle, would drive too slow, hence, students who’d love to catch classes right on time waved their hands when the old man’s jeepney was coming, signifying a “No!”

His much advanced age made him above the law of traffic in the city as he was just ignored by a police auxiliary, who ignored the more his vintage jeepney that reeked with rusty smell (“amoy kalawang”), including its seats’ foamless upholstery. I didn’t see “Ba-ó” around I think for at least a couple of years already, therefore I could only assume he’s now “amoy-lupa” literally and finally. If I’m wrong I hope you would not blame me as it’s the only logical reason I could think of despite knowing that assumption is the mother of all stupidity. It’s because I presume too that in the court of law anywhere in the country, logic and practicality, when absent of any malice, enjoy this privilege rule called presumption of regularity.

We are defined by our pet names or nicknames most of the time according to our ability or personality. Some, however, are given a name opposite exactly to what they are just in the name of sublime irony. Great nicknames are given to great personalities like a sportsman, a popular figure and a gentleman debonair. Michael Jordan’s nomenclature did glare because according to Magic Johnson himself, everything Magic did on the ground Michael would do it in the air.

Even the Lord Jesus, because of His greatness, long before His birth, had been given by the prophet Isaiah some several sobriquets: “[A]nd his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

So that to be saved, in His name we must believe (Acts 4:12).

BUGOY

February 27, 2015 · 

The word “Bugoy” per se in our native tongue would have various meaning. But it usually has negative implication to a person of whom you are calling. When I was a child I was instantly amused upon hearing for the first time we had barriomates named “Bugoy” and “Bәyӛng” as they were fondly called by their own mother. Yeah, they’re brothers and for those who are still uninitiated with “Kinaray-a,” “Bugoy” and “Bәyӛng” originally would mean “anarchists” and they are synonymous with each other.

I am not exactly sure but I think I only met “Bugoy” in our barrio once and for all. And I was surprised when “Bәyӛng” at one time became a classmate in high school. Since then, without realizing it, I surprisingly found myself fascinated with people named “Bugoy.” For it seems their character’s perfectly opposite to their name, yeah, they’re not the real McCoy. Thus, when I came to know about the coming of the movie starred by the great comedian Dolphy that has “Bugoy” for a title, I didn’t buy Pater Ikong’s banana cue for two months, walked to and from school in the morning and afternoon to avoid a tricycle. That in Golden Cinerama I’d see “Bugoy.” And I really did, and there I did tremendously enjoy.

My next and last so far, personal encounter with that particular name which when heard by anyone for the first time, his curiosity would be aroused, was when Tatay was employed by the provincial government through “Bugoy” so we had a new, shining Toyota Land Cruiser parked beside our house. And that was the first and only time that a luxury vehicle rested in and touched my father’s lot: Courtesy of someone they all comfortably called “Bugoy” from whom Tatay said he owed a lot. No, not of cash or any large amount since my father is allergic to borrowing or similar kind ever since, but for giving him a chance to become a public servant when he gave his best during his short stint therein.

Yeah, short, it’s simply because just only a few months on his government service as mere utility driver, his eyes were opened to the reality that with a low salary he’d be forced to put his children’s future in a wager. I did not know nor even noticed then that his eyes were well with tears each time he saw our rice would be mixed with corn. Therefore he would decide shortly that enough was enough, he’d resign, lest in our eyes later he’d be a father scorned.

Some veteran colleagues of him in the Capitol gave my father an idea to do a “paihi kang gasolina” to have enough extra income weekly thrice the value of a month salary. But he refused to do so, and told Nanay he’d rather see all of us die with his wage in hunger and poverty than to feed us using “Katas ng Madiskarteng Driver na hindi nag-Saudi.” But his chief reason was “Bugoy,” the inimitable, the amiable Vicente “Bugoy” Molejona, the office chief, who personally handpicked him to get the job because he trusted him so much. The man would even forbid him to call him “Boss” or “Sir,” but just simply “Bogs,” who treated him not as an office driver or subordinate but like an equal, thus he vowed not to break that trust.

Therefore my father returned to his old familiar job as public utility jeepney driver where our meals had unlimited rice again. Yet he’d always look back and be grateful for that experience of having the always smiling boss, simply called “Bugoy,” had given him.

The “Bugoy” who always had nothing but kind words, and whom our family would love. The “Bugoy” I will always consider to be the best municipal mayor Miagao never had.

Thank you, Nong Bugoy… Attaboy….

MADELEINE

[February 25, 2013]

During my stint as a heartbreak kid back in 1997, I met a wonderful maiden from Central Luzon by the name of Madeleine. Actually, I met her words first long before I met her in the flesh. In other words, I came to know her inner beauty and the core of her being, before I first set my sight on her outer layer which was, still is, equally astounding!

It happened one night, specifically on June Fourteenth of that year, after I had no more articles to read, I tried, for the first time, to glance at Tita Dulce’s column in the Inquirer. And there I found her published letter for the issue of the day, which was full of pure melancholy and woes’ litany. I knew it from the start that Madeleine was just a pseudonym, but she committed a grave error when she wrote also her mailing address therein.

I immediately wrote her, not to console nor to encourage, but to laugh at her predicament and panic and told her too the worse: my own heartaches. I don’t know if there’s also such thing as a woman’s ego that we men sometimes touch but right in that moment, as what she further confided to me later about the deluge of letters she consequently received, mine was standing way above the rest, simply different.

And that was the start of non-stop correspondence I have had for the longest time with a strange gal, and once upon a time our generation had a specific term for this for each other: penpal. Everyday I’d always have at least three pages of arduously crafted words boldly sent through snail mail for Madeleine, which were all deliberately assiduously written in bold letters on a pure white bond sized eight by eleven.

This went on for months which turned to years of knowing each other inside out, without the benefit of knowing each other’s face as, with a prolific writer of her kind, of outward appearance who’d care about? It was a great feeling to have a co-correspondence who’s so super-mega-hyper smart and witty, and lecturing me about a woman’s sensitivity the way Joyce Kilmer talked about the tree.

When came a time we decided to trade each other’s photo tit for tat at once, in that instance too I proved beauty and brains do mix as she’s prettier in form just like her substance. We did draft as we laughed a trial contract that marrying each other after five years would be best just like in the movies, provided however, we’d still find each other’s mind still in empty space and our hearts would be both free from all liens and encumbrances.

But as “fate” and fact would have it, fantasy to reality wouldn’t fit. Just a year after that ‘signing’ of contract, very yours truly to someone else was fatally lovestruck. Nevertheless, before my official signing of the other contract, a lifetime one, which, of course, still faithfully exists today, I, accompanied by Bosneil, had managed to meet Madeleine up close and personal at the Megamall where there we both laughed at our story. Since she was preceded by her stunning reputation, in the flesh she was indeed more than just worthy of any man’s adoration.

Our first and last encounter was not full of dramatics like in our letters, but just a casual “eyeball” or boy-meets-girl, yet, that one brief shining moment was full of excitement and laughter. I was so happy because our parting was totally unlike that of Pi and Richard Parker, thus Madeleine’s and the xerox copies of my letters are still intact today in a five-inch-thick folder.

And the rest is history, as what I’m doing now to FB, I did this to Madeleine already. For a long, long time, she was safely hidden in my memory, virus-free, leak-free. Yet today, I am setting free those memories for all the world to read, that it may know when wounded birds of feather help each other, two lives would proceed.

But most of all today, our “Freedom Day,” I remember you, Madz, “dulce extranjera, mi amiga, mi alegría.” On your birthday, also today, still wishing you life’s best, and as my usual closing phrase, “hasta la vista…”

(Sgd. Tatz)

I'M MAD

February 18, 2015 · 

I’m so mad. And I feel bad. Well, as they always love to say, it simply goes with the territory, susceptibility to all kinds of complaint, accusation and attack is one of the “major, major” problems with my job. Even if those are malicious or fabricated charges, even if they are a desperate mind’s product, I expect them anytime to come my way: a kick, a slap, a straight, a hook, a jab.

Of course, more often than not, the idea of diverting the issue and the heart of the matter away from the court, and turn the barrel on you that they may fire at will comes from a lawyer, the so-called officer of the court. Of course, a lawyer must have someone to blame for his own blunder and fiasco, someone as sacrificial goat since he doesn’t stand a chance, as shown by laws and jurisprudence, facts and evidence of any sort. He must continuously, unstoppably earn “pogi points” before the eyes of his clients at your expense because he cannot afford to commit sin. For he has a reputation to maintain, he must preserve his identity as top-notch counsel with an unblemished record: unblemished by a win.

This exactly what has just happened when a group of lawyers filed an initial pleading just recently before the court of law which, if it finds my explanation bereft of merit, contempt and, heaven forbid, cold bars of jail would gladly await me. With that, I’m tempted to ask, “Is this my chance to be featured in YouTube finally?” If I’d be sent to Cebu penal colony, I’d be among the inmates to re-dance “Thriller” for re-uploading, for another series of “Likes” from a great too many.

Well again, this is the usual problem with the Big City’s big-time solicitors whose among their well-connected clients is entity of incorporators because they are already used to soliciting an exorbitant acceptance fee, for appetizer, and a lewd amount for the main course. Being Metro-based where houses of power reside and where they would love a show of force, they thought civil servants in the provinces are literally “The Expendables,” forgetting that the film stars someone also known as Rambo and Rocky Balboa, the Italian Horse.

Whew, had they done this to me during the period way before my personal encounter with the Blinding Light in the way to Damascus, they might experience the literal Lake of Fire at the first opportunity even if they belong to The Firm because at the time I had a direct line with Zeus. But today I do all things decently and in order, of course. Thus, I let all business now take its ordinary course.

I already got rid of myself with murderous rage, I now believe in what Paul had said that I wrestle not against flesh and blood but against principalities, against a power (Eph. 6:12). Therefore I can’t wait to take the hot seat of a witness stand, where, if ever I would be grilled by them themselves, I’ve to make sure after each reply I’ll add, “Final Answer!”

If you’re sure you’re not guilty, you’re itching for a face-off with your accuser in sickness and in health. But if not, you’ve to evade, avoid and shun them by all means for the sake of your hidden wealth. As for me, I must redeem myself from their spurious and injurious choice of words wantonly and deliberately registered before the court. I must tackle them by the horn be it in the high court, people’s court, kangaroo court, even in my favorite forum: basketball court.

I don’t mind if those batteries of lawyers, whose minds seem to be “lobat” to procedures, have the world’s compilation of legal gobbledygook. They’re nothing compared to that which is “quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword,” that’s known sometimes as The Book. I’m ready even if this fight between me, me and me against the world be fought inside a phone booth. “Good Luck,” gentlemen, damn your torpedoes, they must be ready vis-à-vis my lethal weapon:

The truth.

NO LAUGHING MATTER

February 18, 2014 · 

The recent SWS survey’s result vis-à-vis people’s preference of a person with humor over the one with honor—honor in good looks that is—confirmed that it’s true, if not truer, that Adonis-like and Helenic beauty have to play second fiddle to a stronger aphrodisiac or better charmer: laughter. The survey said a whopping ninety percent of respondents, both from rural and urban areas respectively, women especially, would go for a man with sense of humor as they always love to LOL than live a life beholding beauty.

Bad news for me, this means men of my caliber (ahem!) would only divide the spoils among ourselves begrudgingly with that ten percent remaining. We would be like the ‘askals’ who would be left with crumbs to drop from the table as we watch from afar, hopelessly waiting. The survey gave me sleepless nights because, indeed, humor stays but beauty would come and go. I pity Nonoy Atong because he may be turning in his bed right now, probably asking like me, “Kasalanan ba ang maging gwapo?”

In the Philippine senate, yes, it’s definitely a sin to be ‘pogi’ and ‘sexy,’ but only if you are so while stealing the taxpayer’s money. And stealing it big while the poor and hungry people, like those ‘askals’ above, wait for PDAF crumbs dropping off the table. That makes shapely and facial beauty a sin. That makes skin-deep prettiness a shame. Like the undeniable attraction to opposite sex of humor, beauty was supposed to bring pride and honor. The way Filipino beauties reigned in almost every pageant in the world last year. In secular standards, they brought to this country ginormous pride through beauty, wit and character.

Good looks versus humor is not the kind of fight like an all-time war between good and evil that one must pick one between the two only. Some people are enviably extremely privileged to have both worlds like in the case of Dolphy, Vic Sotto and Jim Carrey. In my courtship with a serious-type wonderful woman some years ago, I’ve had also my fair share of attempt at humor for I was desperate to see her in guffaw or just her smiling teeth and arching brow. When she only stared at me after I finished with my well-delivered, hilarious (for me) anecdote somehow, I was tempted to say, “It was a joke,” but I withheld, fearing she’d reply, “Shall I laugh now?”

Don’t be blinded by “hundred percent pure” humorists, they may be awful lot bad spouses. They don’t take life seriously. Wonder why Dolphy didn’t marry? Despite her being in and out so very pretty, Vic Sotto left and separated with the young Dina Bonnevie. And bear in mind that Hollywood’s Jim Carrey, for all his wit, humor and talent, is at least an official divorcee.

Therefore, thou, oh sister, if you’re still single or still desperately searching for a hero in your life, don’t grab someone at first sight who only makes you laugh as if he’s a rare shining armored knight. A married life is not entertainment. It’s still teamwork and full understanding. In married life, a comedian is just good for laughs, loves like a bard, but only for the time being as moments after, he discards. He loves to dream dreams but never chases the same, remains stagnant like retards although he too wants to live happily ever afterwards.

Go unceremoniously for serious guys, they’re so determined to rise. If that serious guy is ‘gwapo,’ then rejoice, it’s good for you. It’s a lot more than just having your cake and eat it too. Mostly in defining moment, a comedian seldom becomes serious. If he does, it’s only when he’s dead or in situation critical or gross. The comedians I refer to in here are the fools, “[a] fool [who] hath said in his heart, There is no God” in direct declaration (Psalms 14:1). Yeah, “He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh,” but as the Scriptures continue, “The Lord shall have them in derision” (Psalms 2:4).

Unbelief is the mother of all sins, oh brother. Out of which comes mayhem, pillage and murder.

Things that are to me are a no laughing matter.

A CHINESE NEW YEAR STORY

February 18, 2013 

I have had two big surprises for the day inside a bank in the city, exactly located along a busy street which was in normal gridlock as of three p.m. last Friday. The bank could be the smallest structure on that street in a glance only, yet, when it comes to assets, it’s the biggest in the country.

After I yawned in boredom, my first surprise came when one of the guards said “Dali lang” as I waited for my turn to deposit a big bulk of cash, not mine of course, when suddenly another nervous-looking guard rushed in and they both turned on to panic mode to ward off all the chairs around in full force. I likewise switched myself on to alert mode; I sensed something unusual, wondering, was that a “hold-up code”?

I quickly put the money deep inside the front of my undergarment and let out loosely my shining white shirt which was originally tucked in. How I wished there had a presence of an official representative of the GSIS right in that moment, that even though it was not my money I would gladly turned it all over right away to him for all my outstanding loans’ one-time payment. My reason for it was it would be a once in a lifetime opportunity to pay my biggest debt in full, since it would only be taken away totally by would-be hold-uppers after all.

Shortly, there were bursts of noisy drums and I ducked soon that to the floor itself I might quickly sit on, when all of a sudden both glass doors swung open, and there and then did enter the “dragon.” I jumped to my feet and looked on askance. I thought it was a new bank robbers’ trick using a Chinese Dragon Dance. And I was relieved only when all eyes were focused and smiling. Everybody around enjoyed that three-minute spectacle inside the bank including the employees who were seem to be high-ranking.

My second surprise came swiftly when someone I noticed who ignored the “dragon” inside her chamber, came over when a teller uttered “override please” and keyed in something in her computer. I was still figuring out her face when our eyes met, and followed immediately by a brief lifting of eyebrows after only our smiles to each other did greet. 

Then I knew right away my eyes couldn’t fail me even after many broken cheap reading glasses ago and despite her being just a blast in the past. She was a dear classmate with an angelic face in Theology in San-Ag where we both laughed at our predicament every during exams especially the finals because we were forced to answer what we both believed to be in contrast.

We had a chance only to talk to each other intimately when I was about to graduate. But she was one of the finest Christians in that school that I ever met though it was already way too late. But I remember the time when I looked for her after graduation somewhere riding a motorboat across the seas. I was determined to find her there saying to myself if I’d find her that day something would change in myself since I already had an answer as I asked “What if?...”

I said I could start a new day since I was then in a finishing stage of that period’s phase after my heart was crushed and my spirit abased. I thought she could be a good start since her very name means The Beginning, of everything, even of heart’s time and space. As I walked away without looking at her again, something inside me was silently questioning: “What if our paths crossed that day when I sought you without you knowing? Will my story have a different plot and ending?”

Or, as they say, same, same? She’s another “lucky” Eve then.