Aaliyah and Allysa

I see these two petite girls everyday aged 4 and 5. They are Aaliyah and Allysa. They are my neighbors. Everytime I get out of the house, I see these girls playing with the other children right at the doorsteps. Climbing the pole. Enjoying the tumbang preso. At times, I see them sitting conspicuously on the pavement. Giggling with each other. They are funny. Aaliyah has eyesight problems but she joins the rest of the children without feeling inferior. Their mother sells refreshments to make a living. They are a typical family who struggles everyday like the rest of us.

I make fun and tease these girls when I met them. They always shrugged it off. They would race back to their house, one of their options or join the throng of children playing merrily. When I see them, they asked coins. Nevertheless, I don't give what they want. I thought giving money to these innocent souls would tarnish their fragile minds in the long run. Days before Christmas, they asked for Christmas gifts. I told them to be back and sing simple Christmas songs like what others do.

I haven't seen the girls from that day onwards. They probably had a vacation to their home place or province. Yesterday, I've spotted them again playing with each other. When they saw me, they asked again the gift. They waited patiently as I climbed upstairs to get something for them. I gave raisin bread and ready to eat jelly. They smiled upon receiving the food. It could be the best gift they have received.

Surprisingly, I wondered they did not mention about coins. The never-ending pleas they constantly utter every time I met them.

Jeepney Carolers

Passengers caught stunned and frightened. Negative ideas rule on everyone's head.They might be an orchestrated syndicate victimizing commuters.Robbers looking for preys. Juvenile deliquents on the streets still in hangovers. They could be the negative elements of our society.

Everybody wants to step down from the vehicle, anticipating an unusual event could happen anytime.But when these people hanging on the jeepneys start chanting the hymns of the holidays. Sigh of relief for all.

They are the jeepney carolers. Adolescents trying to feel the spirit of the season through their songs. They run after the moving vehicles. Cling like spiders. Complete with paraphernalias specifically bottle crowns strung in wires. It served as their caracas and chimes. They sing a couple of songs to entertain the passengers hoping the kind-hearted ones would draw out coins from their pockets. "Daygon" as what we call it, done on a broad daylight.

If my memory would not fail me, people do the "daygon" only during the evening, days upcoming Christmas Day.They move from one house to another to spread the holiday spirit in the form of songs. The owners of the house in turn,give something in kind or in cash. The children carolers usually get candies and biscuits.I never see jeepney carolers before.

Do the carolers now more innovative compared to the past years? Does it come with development that they practice at par with it?

So commuters, always prepare coins for the carolers who anytime will cross your path.

We Give Back

It was a very fortunate day for all of us, despite the mild rain that welcomed everyone in a secluded barangay in the city we adopted. It exactly was the place where we distributed our bundles of joy to the residents a year ago. Nothing has changed. The idle lot where we set up our tents still proudly rests together with waist-high grasses adjacent to the high-end subdivisions.

The road in getting there was never easy this time. Brought about by the concrete fence of the pathway we used before, we have to experience the bumpy and dusty steep improvised road to get to the place. From the lowlands, we could see houses clinging on the mountains hanged like ornamentals.

We give back. I remembered someone who said that the giver's hand always stays on top than the receiver.He maybe partially is right. When you give a coin to a beggar, certainly you would drop it to whatever container he has. But on the contrary, when someone holds something that needs his bare hands certainly he would position the hands facing upward. The receiver gets it in the same manner how the giver did it, especially if its fragile. Anyway, we collectively agreed that giving is something uncommon and laudable, more so in these times of crisis and calamities.

Apart from the usual giving of goods to the beneficiaries, we added the endeavor with a more charitable heart. We infused a mass feeding for the children. With "pospas" and a cup of juice, we could see the untainted and genuine smiles on the faces of the children. The words of thanks from the residents made our hearts grew bigger.

Everyone didn't mind the scorching heat of the sun right after the mild rain shower earlier during the day. Nor did it discount our overflowing eagerness of the entire agency to share.

Looking Back

I became a city dweller for a decade now. I've witnessed how buildings were torn down and rose to skyscrapers year after year.I had cultivated patience in commuting to and from the workplace due to uncontrolled volume of vehicles added on the streets every year. I've seen how people raced to the metropolis with torch glowing with hopes, believing answers would find its way on long-unanswered questions in time of their exodus. I inhaled the smoke and dust constantly emitted by cars and factories. I learned to live an independent life. Practically, hanging on to oneself when ripples of unfriendly circumstance constantly strikes to wash me ashore.

Going home to my town had been always exciting.The trip gives me a different perspective. It enables me to appreciate and savor the beauty of nature, which most of us take for granted.

The morning comes to life not by humming horns and engines of the vehicles but with chirping birds and lively sounds of the fowls at the backyard. I used to have two lovely doves in a birdcage. Feed them with corn or rice grains with the chickens and roosters. Unfortunately, the birds had an untimely demise for any reason. My muscles would be flexed, pulling the string attached to a pulley to get water from a ten meter deep well, that became heavier every time I come home. My muscle tissues must have clogged. And why not? A simple turn of the faucet valve, without much effort involved produces water at once in the city.

I could divert my usual habit of just listening the favorite music on the airwaves or watching the news and programs on television, into comfortably swinging on a hammock made of nylon string woven neatly, under the shade of the trees in our backyard. The air immaculately clean without a smell of pollution. How relaxing it was.

Days are too short. The clock moves quickly. In a short span of time, I had relived and enjoyed things that most of us forget to do, without paying a price for it.

The Moth

Five days prior to All Soul's Day, a brown-winged creature visited me unexpectedly. A moth about the size of my thumb, rested proudly on my shirt hanged on the deck. Stayed comfortably for a few minutes and vanished into thin air unnoticed.

I tried to locate my visitor but nowhere it could be found. I wonder where it came from. The room I shared with my brother is not in anyway a magnet of insects. However elders said that they symbolized our loved ones who departed.Asking our help to get them out of where they stayed right now.

Could it be my grandmother missing her favorite apo? Or my grandfather who passed away a year after my Lola joined the Creator, who used to carry me and my brother and a relative on his shoulders when were still kids? Was he my Lolo on my father's side who used to commingle my name with my brothers? Or probably a distant relative pleading for deliverance?

I hardly couldn't distinguished who it be. Be it heaven sent reminding me to visit those who have gone ahead to their graves especially this time of the year.

I wish my visitor would visit me again one day and tell him I did not fail them on their special day.

Colored Petitions

I visited the monastery today. A friend early this week asked if I could join her . She had petitions to send to the heavens. I lately found out its for her mother. The same colleague of mine who tried to convince me a month ago. I wasn't able to join them. I was sleeping like lard and woke up late .

Unfortunately few days after that time , a shaking news broke out which stirred the catholic faith. The monks were allegedly having immoralities in supposedly a sacred and holy place of praise and worship.

The incident however did not discount the beliefs of its patrons, queuing to catch a glimpse of the icon. I tried to comprehend the unexplainable feeling that enveloped me as I got nearer to the glass enclosed tabernacle. My attention was caught with the sign hanged around the wall which says," Tell her your worries, problems and intentions. " I was deeply touched. I whispered my personal prayers to her.

The vicinities of the monastery was engulfed with vendors laying various items for sale. Religious items primarily. Bracelets, prayers pamphlets and candles. Colored candles to be exact. Any one's petition twin the colored candles which represents different meanings. Everybody would be interested to light the gold candles for career, the violet for overseas endeavors and undertakings and the black for reconciliation. There were the colors cream, red, blue, yellow and many more. Is there such thing as colored petitions?

My curiosity what the rest of the colors mean subsided. I'm not interested. I'm not against those who believe it works. Evidently seen. The words of thanks for passing the exams, healed from a disease and landed a good job. These were just posted in a conspicuous place in the area.

A young lady tucked few pieces of colored candles in her hand. A mother lighting a candle on one end of the altar. Everyone inside pleading wishes hopefully be granted in the coming days.

I lighted a simple brown candle to complete the day. The colored ones however, would not be sufficient to answer all my intentions. Its not the color that counts but the genuineness of oneself. I think so.

The Big Laugh

A lawyer visited to claim his subsidy few days ago after two months of playing the hide and seek. He handed a 500 bill to me silently. My tongue slipped without malice intention. I conveyed to my superior that it was for something to eat that afternoon.

Her unripe smile made me anxious. The money she said represents fees, goes to the coffers of a civic organization where these professionals belong. I never bothered to ask her anymore.The lawyer claimed his receipt from our technical people.They handle such things. He left the office just minutes thereafter.

The main door closed. The tranquil environment inside was ignited with a giggle. It spread like virus. Everybody inside burst with laughters. We got a taste of the best medicine.We hardly get our air passages normal.We get teary-eyed. I just learned from them that our visitor left his change for us. The fee costs lesser than what he gave. More so,it surprised them because he never did it before. Unlike any other on his shoes.

My unmalicious welcome in an unholy hour could have triggered him to do so. Getting afraid to get embarrassed.

The afternoon gesture turned into a big laugh then into a big feast for our stomachs.

The Face of Calamity

The recent storm besetting our country for the past week left people homeless, claimed lives, destroyed properties and shattered hopes no matter what the quality of life someone had. Flooded streets, houses soaked in water and covered with mud, garbage pile up drastically and dead bodies surfacing everywhere . People wade through waters to avoid being trapped on their homes. Typically, it is what we see when nature strikes at his pleasure.

That being so, rose inspiring images of the calamity. The many faces of heroism sprouted like mushrooms. People get to feel the spirit of unity and brotherhood. Helping one another. The ordinary citizen giving food to his neighbors and sheltered them to their homes. Rescuers risked lives to save others. For some , it costs their lives. The campaign for relief services received an astounding and incredible support throughout the country, the bayanihan spirit is in the air again.

This is what we Filipinos are known for. Having that drive to laugh it out every problem. It probably be the motivation we have to surpass the atrocities we encounter in our lifetime. But how soon we'll realize to help our fellowmen not in an uncommon situation, just like when no typhoon hits, no earthquake shakes and no person's heart bleeds and mourns.

The Sampaguita Lads

Walking instead of taking the public transport in going home every afternoon after work has always been my option since I stayed in the city for years now. 

Although only a few kilometers away, it enables me to sweat out and feel rejuvenated from the day's work.
 
Did any instance that I missed noticing these little boys selling strung sampaguitas in front of the church where I attend mass every Sunday. These boys approximately aged from 10-15 years old. Frail as their bones just like everybody of their age don't understand and can't withstand the risks that comes with it as a consequence.
 
Some days ago, one approached me and offered sampaguitas.More than a dozen suspended on his tiny hand. I tried to draw out coins from my pocket but unfortunately I only found the bunch of keys for the house and office. He was disappointed not able to sell a piece. I promised him to buy the next time I met him.

A bunch of them also sells candles across the street alongside with pedestrians. Curiously I asked one of them,"Where are your parents."

"In the house." he politely answered.

While sitting on a bench right beside the entrance of the church, I realized how fortunate and blessed I am, not wearing the shoes these kids are wearing when I was of their age.

Had these kids taken their meals? Are they in school? Had they enjoyed the value of being worry free and unaffected by those around them?

They have the answers. It might not be the best response they could ever give, but enough to prick a little bit of the our hardened and numb hearts.

Eventually, I would see to it that I have coins in my pocket, that by the time I'll bump to any of those lads again, I'll make a shine on their face.

The Second Time Around

It was my second time to visit Baguio City, not in any way related to my work, which was the reason why I set foot to the city last year. This time it was more of recreation and relaxation.

From the airport, we spent the whole night in a bus heeding towards the city.We arrived at dawn. The freezing atmosphere welcomed us, heartwarming for first timers. We parked at Victory terminal where vans for hire eagerly waiting for passengers.

An unreluctant man speaking in our dialect offered his service, he claimed his from Cebu. But we doubted if he really is. The tone of his voice sounds like from Mindanao. Despite that, we boarded his van, drove around the city to get the best price for our accommodation. This made us able to express more and be understood. All of us speak the same language as the driver do.

We're looking for a place accessible to the city and a walking distance to the Burnham Park. It would be beneficial to our health and at the same time our pockets. The hotel few meters away is the market.

Our plan originally was to settle in a house wherein we can cook the meals ourselves. We even brought some dried fish. Its nice to eat such on unusual temperature like Baguio. Weighing both alternatives , we stayed on a cozy hotel. A European inspired design and architecture , with a taste of the pine spirit. The furnishings although old but well-maintained. The room accommodation comes with it a breakfast to its guests.

The entire morning on the first day was entirely spent in bed to energize ourselves for an exciting afternoon activity.

We walked to Burnham Park. Rented a boat . Paddled left and right to keep it moving on the lake. We took turns in rowing it to get a taste of how its done. 

This could be a different story, I did this thing barely two decades now when I joined my relatives at sea for fishing.

Our next stop the playground for the young at heart just across the park. We rode the bump cars. Riding and bumping each other. We laughed . Giggled. Joked. And every body's favorite ate until twilight.

Morning came. Everybody was alive again. We scheduled for a tour within and the outskirts of the city. The van driver fetched us at exactly 8:00 in the morning. Our adrenalin gets going.

Baguio Chinese temples sparked the tour, typically comparable to the Taoist temples of Cebu. The Lourdes Grotto, the zigzag road, Camp John Hay where we do the war games and the zip lining, Mines View Park ,the PMA. Unfortunately, we didn't bumped with local teleserye characters Dave and JR. 

The weaving station, the Mansion, the replica village of Mountain Province and neighboring provinces, an artist's haven. The multi-awarded artist gallery house which the name I could not remember was awesome. The strawberry fields, unfortunately its an off- season, we only saw the greens scattered like mushrooms all over the place.

The day ended with much contentment and satisfaction. We hardly felt tired. All we had were memories of happiness, evidenced with multitudes of pictures that even time can't erase.

The reckless driver

In just a split a second, we could have been into an accident. If not probably for our guardian angels invisible hand, we either be lying in the hospital bed or the incident have cost our lives. For heaven's sake it was not yet our time.

Blame it on the reckless tricycle driver. He was unable to get the brakes at the right timing. He forced to turn the vehicle sidewards towards the center of the street to evade the stagnant bus a foot ahead. The afternoon drizzle made the pavement slippery.

Called it a luck, had a vehicle rushed towards us we would be badly hurt.

I tried to extend my patience not to utter bad words to the careless teenage driver. Anything can happen from there. Surely things will blow out of proportion.

I sighed, I took a deep breath, I thank God for He has spared us from the supposed accident.

What to do next?

When can somebody say that enough is enough. It can be likened to a cup full of coffee, you can't add more of the liquid, you sip it first, then make the container vacant and have another round of your favorite morning habit. Unless, you just let it spill over which I know no person with a sound mind would do. Consequently, perceptions vary from each individual on how such things transpire.

The border of a line depends on how long it was drawn by an artist through his wide imagination, in the same way the yardstick of a person's acceptable norm really depends on his capacity to bear the consequences that comes with it. On another perspective it must the endurance to get the ultimate goal, despite others of the same capacity fall short.

A farmer who tills the land all his life, braves the scorching heat of the sun and soaked in water during rainy days, to feed his family. He never gets tired of the routine he does everyday. If he decides to hang his plow and other tools in farming for good and look for a more comfortable job, can he find one? The family chiefly receiving his support would get hungry if he doesn't. 

How does the barometer of these people run when the wind blow against them? How soon it would take them to say that enough is enough.
In another instance, an typical employee who has minimum wage , insufficient to meet the basic necessities of life. Some trapped on the web for the sake of having one. The arguments that I usually hear from most of them is alarming. 

They endured because there are no other opportunities around, and if there is, everybody is going for it. Call it the survival game. What percent of this populace later on will jump out of the web ,seeking time to grow in another arena and gamble to something else which they think will give a more satisfying return to their families.

Consequently, aren't we tired of seeing the faces of our politicians running the wheels of government for their selfish personal interest. The dynasties and power they have built untouched over the years. Haven't your patience reached its brim? It time to say enough. Lets stop fooling ourselves. Be not persuaded by the rhetoric's they utter every campaign period.

When I was a little boy pasturing my grandfather's cows in a grassland, I tried to cloaked the reality that the animals are already full, by giving them more water to drink. In such case, the belly would appear big as if they really are full and enough when in fact they are not. I distorted the real thing to play with my peers.

By this time, haven't you distorted the cup of coffee by replacing it with another cereal. The itch for a hot coffee has dwindled down, paused and said "Coffee no more"

Is it true?

Does this holds true to all? They say love becomes sweeter by the time you fall in love again. You can't really get the real taste of a dish unless you savor it repeatedly. Once tasted always wanted. Is it a fact or a myth?

I actually could confirm these beliefs that almost everybody subscribe to. It will be my second time setting foot to the city of pines few days from now. We'll have a group escapade to the place scheduled for three days. Having availed of a promotional round trip airfare which costs us a few bucks.

The latest feedback I heard from one of my office mates somehow discounted my eagerness to go there. She said it lives up to being the summer capital of the country, the place is really hot. It being compared to frequently visited gate aways.

Could I still enjoy the mist and feast my eyes on the fogs covering the mountain ranges, the way I used to see them last year. Had the traffic lessened and the roads around the city are not congested by now. Could I still feel every bit of coldness the city is famous of.

Getting there seemed to be the only answer.

The Anniversary

This Monday leaves another imprint of a happy memory for me. I will be celebrating my pilot year as a public servant. Exactly a year ago, I joined the agency with immeasurable hopes and aspirations that somehow I can be an instrument of change.
 
Change the mindset of what people think as far as government agencies are concerned.I've became numb on criticisms. Those prevailing to every citizen's tongue when it comes to the delivery of the services. Snail paced or turtle paced, whatever they call it. Some have failed to live up to the expectations, but there are those who excelled in their own rights.
 
My early exposure to public service could have triggered me joining the institution after several years working in private establishments.
 
For one, I've grown seeing my father working as a community organizer for several years and likewise, my mother who was a public school teacher.I have several aunts and uncles on the teaching profession. Some settled as a social worker, a community organizer to name a few.The passion to serve probably runs in our blood.
 
I planned to give a blow-out at the office. It's a way of extending my gratitude to them for all the support and encouragement since day one when I set foot and joined their family.

Knowledge power

One afternoon a lawyer dropped by at the office to claim his subsidy entitlement. I've noticed him before while attending a meeting with one of my senior colleague. I can't forget his face even it took years to see him again. He frequented almost always to the office where I worked before.

Dressed in a polo barong. An attache case on his hand. I usually see lawyers with these accessory. He still looked the way Ive seen him some years ago. No marks of aging on his part.

I greeted him politely and handed what he was after of. I had the time to introduce myself and got the whereabouts of his son who was a batch mate in college.

"He's working in a bank right now." he said. How long have you been here? Are you now in a law school? Have you taken a master's degree? This questions came out from his mouth unexpectedly.

"You shouldn't stop learning." he added.

"I have plans for it." I answered.

He's right. We should not stop learning. It's a continuous process. Our daily interaction with our friends, peers and everyone around , uncovers a lot of things that we don't know. Surfing the net, reading the local dailies offer opportunities to discover more. For instance, I bumped across an article which tackles on diabetes. It says that persons with diabetes heals more rapidly than those who are not when inflicted with wounds. This is contrary to what I know that these people have hard time recuperating.

When you cease to learn, it is tantamount to incarcerating yourself behind bars. You'll become stagnant. You could not enjoy the beauty of the world which really is what everybody wanted and continually longed for.

My father ever since the wave of cellular phones hit this generation, he is not interested to learn the gadget. It's cumbersome for him to study the tedious process at his age. He's dwindling eyesight is another factor. My mother however, is the exact opposite. Even though she retired from public service years ago, she's still active nourishing her knowledge. She has still the heart to teach the children of our neighbors who visited our house for her assistance. A teacher by profession.

Indeed, it is just right to thirst for wisdom otherwise, you cease to see the beauty of God's creation.

Cheers...

I've got simple accolades from my co-employees a couple of days ago. It did boast my ego for a while, and it will ever be. It can be likened as dividends from an investment.This after they arrived from an event in Manila which lasted for three days.
 
Our region received praises for having the most number of articles for our quarterly newsletter.For this feat, I am in high-spirits.Being able to share what I know and live the expectations makes me nervous and sometimes pressured. But it paid off.
 
Who doesn't want to be adjudged as the best feature and news writer come next year, which every writer aimed at. Beating all the odds and ultimately taking home the bacon to their places of origin.
 
With the upcoming workshop this August, we will polish ourselves once again our writing capabilities under the tutelage on some prominent and credible media practitioners in the country.
 
By that time then, we will roll up our sleeves and get ready for the big battle.The Information Officers Guild in action.

That Old Woman

Every time I come home from work, I always notice this old woman, in her seventies sitting at the entrance of their house. She always smiled to the passers-by although most of them don't pay attention to her. I can't imagine what inspired her. Smiling almost everyday habitually is no joke.

At one instance, she approached me and asked if I have some stuff for sewing."It's my past time." she said. I could not imagine at her age,still doing the task everybody hated. I don't see her wearing the eyeglasses.She must have a good eyesight.

Sometimes I see her giving sermons to her grandchildren,not to play beside the street to avoid being side swept by vehicles moving every minute.Their house is situated just few meters from the highway.However, her grandchildren scamper away towards the end of the sidewalk, as if they haven't heard anything.I also did the same during my childhood.

One late afternoon, I curiously listened her stories about what transpired for the day.She's socially aware. At least, she continued to nourish her knowledge despite her old age. I know only few who have this kind of attitude.

I could see the image of my grandmother who passed away several years ago through this old woman.Everybody in the family considered me as her favorite "APO" that even during her interment mass I was given the priority to read the gospel for her. She must be very happy if she had seen me from above.

This old woman constantly has that beautiful smile whenever I see her, and I can't prevent myself to smile back at her.Anyway, it makes her day as well as mine.

What should you do?

Thieves robs you at times less expected. They mastered all possibilities to evade being caught. It could have been their way to earn a living and survive. 

To feed the mouths of their families, to clothed them and send them to school perhaps. The victims mostly helpless could do nothing, but fall to their knees hoping those things taken away will be returned. How to recover it is a puzzle.

Last week, the house where I stayed was robbed. Three rooms at the upper floor were totally searched by an unidentified robber. The door locked was destroyed leaving all the rooms bare and disarranged. Things scattered on the floor including those piled on the cabinet. My digital camera was lost, my partner whenever I travel. One room lost two cellphones and an MP4 player which costs quiet substantial.

All we've got was had the incident blottered at a nearby police station. 

Initially, the owner suspected that one of the housemates orchestrated the operation. He was invited to the station for questioning.

For all you know, we have a main door where everybody will pass before reaching the second and third level of the edifice. Keys were given to all the dwellers. Its just impossible that the robber penetrated inside without knowledge of the whereabouts of the house. The incident happened in a broad early morning after everyone goes to work and in school.

We just thanked that nobody got hurt during that incident.The owner promised to take security measures to prevent further damaged in the future and likewise protect the dwellers of the house.Otherwise, all housemates would leave the house primarily because of security.

In these times of crisis, all must be proactive. Be extra cautious in everything. Thieves are just around the corner waiting for the right timing.

Guitar and Songs

It has been our custom to celebrate mass in the office every first Friday of the month. For the past masses, we only sing in acapella for the entire celebration. We did this without any practice at all. It's like delivering an impromptu speech. We selected songs with familiar tunes for everyone to sing with it easily.
 
Our celebration for this month was memorable. We've bought a guitar from a well-known manufacturer in the city.I'm equally excited to know that I'll be strumming the guitar once again. I learned to run my fingers on the guitar fret when I was a teenager. However, I can't play the instrument without any guide, particularly the chords.
 
We changed some of our mass songs which has been sung for a couple of months.The web has been of great help to us. We uploaded the perfect tunes for each song and had myself familiarize on the tempo.Almost ninety percent of which, had been successfully performed.
 
Contrary to our previous celebrations, we had a haphazard rehearsal for half an hour for us to get things in order and get acquainted with the new songs. I did not feel any pain on my fingers until I strummed alone without any distractions.
 
A number of persons attended the Eucharist, including some clients whose having a conciliation on that day. I moved my hand across the guitar fret, coupled the chants echoing in the office. Many at times I'll get lost in my accompaniment but was overshadowed by the singers.
 
Doing the acapella is pleasing to hear, but unpleasing when the performer gets out of tune. On the contrary, singing with an instrument, a guitar in our case, is better. The singer obviously will be unnoticed whenever he got a flat or sharp.
 
Where the guitar goes, there the song goes.

Swimming galore

No doubt it's a great learning experience for me. My might on the pool will be put into a test. I haven't swam for almost a month now. The last time I've done so was when I had my vacation during the Lenten season not on a swimming pool but at a beach few meters away from our house in the province. This habit has been cultivated every time I visit our town.
 
If my memory would not fail me, I learn to swim when I was seven or eight years old. It was basically my past time during my childhood years. We have no formal swimming lessons whatsoever, we've learned the basic movements of the arms and legs to float on the water by ourselves, particularly the dog and frog swim.
 
I took swimming on my P.E. class in college.I've learned the freestyle, backstroke, breast stroke and the butterfly styles. I had no difficulty performing these styles. I can relate it very well to what I knew . It's only a matter of polishing and adjusting the necessary techniques. I grew up doing the stuff in the first place.
 
We had a simple outing together with a senior member of the office.She shouldered the expenses for the accommodation and food.All we have to do is eat and enjoy the place.The group dwelled on the one cottage enough to accommodate the seven of us, adjacent to an elongated sized swimming pool.

The night was entirely full of excitement.After the dinner, with grilled pork, the group collectively plunged on the pool.It was past

ten in the evening, everyone decided to get out of the water. Our unguarded moments was caught by the lens of the camera , cautiously handled to get the best angles .

I took time to condition myself, approximately making ten lapses on the ten meter wide swimming pool. Holding my breath to test my agility under water, which I haven't done for a month now. It would attest the exercise we did in one of our activities, to measure a person's ability to hold his/her breath for a couple of minutes, tantamount to accessing the condition of one's health. Holding one's breath longer means better health condition. I surprisingly got a thirty second time.

The morning made the day more challenging.Dipping into a larger pool measuring about thirty meters long, my companions proposed a contest, wading the waters towards the end. Both swimmers halted at the middle of the pool, not a bad performance.The formers were both bigger and larger than me.

I pumped bubbles to prepare myself and store the much needed air to sustain while under water. I swam towards the end of the pool. I tried to push myself to the limits after the point where my companions stopped.I did made it.Having crossed the pool without breathing at all is an accomplishment for me. I felt dizzy after I popped out of the water.I performed again the pumping of bubbles to catch my breath for several minutes.However, my extraordinary swim was not documented at all.

I liked swimming. Perhaps, it also liked me. In due time, who knows another surprise will surface in our next swimming episode.

The AI Fever

Who doesn't know the singer behind the song" Jesus Takes The Wheel". I have no doubt everybody idolized Carrie Underwood, especially those who want to follow her footsteps. Her angelic face and heavenly voice would somehow lead you to heaven. How about Taylor Hicks, George Clooney's look alike, the famous Hollywood actor who takes every spectator's breath away on his stunts on films. Both Underwood and Hicks, are products of the US singing competition "American Idol".

The AI fever has swept away the globe once again. Millions of fans screaming and yelling to their favorite bets. With Lambert and Allen battling for the season finale performance head to head, the results tomorrow is unpredictable. Would rocker Lambert make it to top or will boyish look Allen take home the bacon, that remains to be seen.

When the season unfolds months ago, I have been a Lambert fan. He's just phenomenal every time he steps on the center stage. The originality he creates on his performance , the technique he adopted when he changes the melody of the song can be likened to a musical genius, as one of the judges described him.

The fever somehow strucked to the office. Two office mates , who are both Kris Allen's fans gambled for five orders of pizza and soft drinks on him. We have nothing to lose anyway. Whoever wins, ultimately we would still enjoy the food together.

The Singing Saturday

Bored of the movie marathon for the last three hours this afternoon, I tried to think of something else that could cater my interest, my passion for music. 

Waiting for the rain to subside, I enjoyed a pack of crackers and a bottle of juice, while watching a fiction movie. The rain stopped, enough to make the humid afternoon cool.
 
I walked along the oldest street in the country, "Colon street" where the heart of business thrive during the good old days and is still vibrant up to this time. Vendors lined on this busy street downtown . Selling varieties of dvd and cd movies particularly those to hit the screen soon.
 
I stopped at my suki for a copy of Slumdog Millionaire. "We don't have a copy of it , maybe next week" my suki quips. I decided to look for videoke songs. I planned to test my singing prowess that afternoon. I came across with a song collection of David Pomeranz and Barry Manilow, which I really liked. It was worth sixty pesos but I had bargained it at fifty.
 
Without wasting any time, I heeded home. I put up the electrical connections to start my singing. The first ten songs turned out to be good. The background video was visible and clear.
 
My neighbor occupying the upper portion of the house commented if a could get my voice louder. Perhaps , they loved my singing.
 
I was very disappointed when the player halted. I pulled out and inserted the disc several times to check if it was ok. But no to avail. I pushed another disc on the player ,but it couldn't be detected. The player must be the problem.
 
My singing was cut short. I probably continue this addiction by the time things go well.What an unlucky day for me!

Solicitation letters

I received a solicitation letter from my neighbor. It aimed to raise funds to defray the transportation expenses to Luzon, for some hopeful seminarians. 

The lady who handed me said that any amount would be appreciated.
 
At first I'm hesitant to give, due to the fact that I've met several persons performing the same acts.Every time jeepneys stop on traffic signals,religious order go inside the vehicles and solicit from the passengers. They would step down as soon as the vehicle moves. This poses their safety,considering how dangerous our streets nowadays.

Weeks ago a salesman came into our office.He claimed to be from the northern part of the country and is having promotional activities to selected places. The product he introduced was a handy sewing machine made out of scrap stapler. He demonstrated to us on how to use it. He did convinced everybody and sold a few pieces.

But we suspected that he just cloak himself under a livelihood arm of the government to make his product saleable. We check on the net to verify what he conveyed to us. We found out that the letterhead and the signatory of his introductory letter did not match with the actual profile of the said agency. We were cheated.

I don't want again to be like a careless mouse incarcerated behind traps. I called the number on the solicitation to verify it's contents. I identified myself to a man on the other line, who happened to be the initiator of the campaign. He did confirm their noble cause.

I returned the envelope together with my donation to my neighbor right after our conversation. I prefer not to flaunt my name on the list attached with the letter and remain an anonymous donor.

Our human instinct of being cautious could counteract these kind of manipulations in these times of crisis, when somebody wants to gain at the expense of others. Generosity per se, is not bad. However, when it is abused that would be another story.

The lucky day

The games of chance like lotto, sweepstakes,and bingo draw a lot of acceptance and attention from all walks of life, particularly those hoping to win the much-coveted grand prize worth millions of pesos. Who doesn't want to? It could instantly change a person's life for good.In most cases, the doors in heaven are stormed with prayers waiting to be answered.Of course, through winning.

I haven't tried my luck betting on lotto and several other games of chance.But I'm not against it.Many times I joined raffle draws but I haven't won. Aside from the fact that I don't have an itch for it, I rather spend my hard-earned money to something more profitable.

It seemed that I put my own words into my mouth yesterday, Labor Day.A raffle draw was held in consonance with the celebration.

During our lunch, everyone in the group agreed to share the prize if someone will win. The casual conversation among ourselves burst into laughter's as jokes came after the other as we dined at Bigbys. The food was delicious, pampering and satisfying everybody in the group. Food lovers.

The activity area became a sea of people as the emcees announced the winners . You can hear the applause and shouts from the audience that made the afternoon lively. From the minor prizes , the tickets were drawn from five tambeolos, representing the five different groups.

One lucky colleague won a minor prize. A box of clay plant pots.Perhaps, he should start gardening.

It was then reduced to a single big tambeolo for the major prize. Gift certificates, hotel and travel accommodations, , various goods , and some appliances were given out to the winners.

When the last winning raffle number was called, my colleagues even joked to me to spell some magical words.We didn't lose hope. Our efforts paid off. We've won the last major prize.Cold cash.

We must be lucky to win the price from among the hundreds of entries. The day must be our lucky day!

Lost and Found

Where's my ticket?
 
I meticulously opened the pockets of my backpack inside the airport as we lined up to check-in our baggage yesterday.We were returning to Cebu from a three-day team building activity at Mambukal resort in Negros Occidental. 
I don't usually forget something. I could only count on my fingers the instances that I missed things to remember . I'm an orderly and systematic person. I see to it that every stuff are in place where it ought to be placed.
 
Was it a coincidence when the head of our delegation reminded us of our tickets while riding the bus to the airport? I don't think so. Or was it a product of exhaustion arising from the strenuous mind and physical activities that we all gone through? It might be a factor. Had my memory dwindled down? 

Probably, yes.
 
I didn't entertain the possibility that I left the ticket in our cottage, since I only take out things that I need to use for the day.
 
Being the only last guy, to hand our previously booked flight schedule to the counter made me more anxious. My patience gained positive vibrations. As I dip my hand inside my pocket , I felt a folded paper. Pulling it carefully, thanks to the heavens it was what I'm looking for.
 
I took it out from my backpack minutes before we checked out from the resort to avoid the cumbersome drawing it in and out from my bag, which was heavier this time because of the Bacolod delicacies tucked inside together with my clothes.
 
The ticket literally was not lost and was found.

Piece of Agony

Wrapping up the lenten season, is an experience I myself called a post-lenten agony.
 
Today is Easter Sunday. A time to rejoice for He has risen from the grave. It was contrary on my part, it must be the road to the grave.
 
I woke up early. I packed my belongings that I wasn't able to put in my bag the night before. My father drove me to the terminal in our town, at around 6:30 AM.

Boarding on the jeepney, I met my father's close friend. He did nothing but talked to the passengers inside the vehicle.He somehow mentioned that he assisted a very prominent government official, billeting in one the resorts in the island.

A long queue precedes the long trip, waiting for our turn to buy tickets . I hopped from one ticket booth to another hoping to be included in the manifesto, a passengers list. I tried to extend my patience as the sun gets hotter. From my position, two persons away from the ticket booth, the teller shouted to the crowd that all trips in the morning was fully booked.The only schedule available was the 4:30PM. I never anticipated that some had their schedule booked ahead of time, leaving only minimal vacancies, which I'm not fortunate to grasp. I ended up in a pump boat. The traditional vessel which has outriggers.

Seated on the rear end of the boat beside the window, I positioned myself in my most comfortable way. The sea breeze was cool. I started to feel tired. 

Almost took a nap, but refreshed by the sea water splashing in my face and eventually to my whole body. I became slightly wet. The boat braved the waves. I closed the window leaving a little space that I could peep to the ocean. Still, the waters come in, an early celebration of St. John's day. I whispered to myself. Changing my clothes came to mind but later was dispensed.

My clothes almost dry.I boarded a multi cab to the terminal in Sibulan. Took my lunch and lined again to purchase ticket for the ferry boat. A shorter line this time. The manageable heat inside the passenger terminal, was lessened by a fan standing just at the center of the edifice.

Few minutes later, the ferry left and docked to the southern part of Cebu province.Buses waited. Everyone in the group opted to take the aircon bus. Pushing and shoving made the day more interesting. Passengers outdoing each other, to board the bus. I'm seated at the rear end of the bus. My favorite spot whenever I travel.

I opened the curtain hanged over the tainted window of the bus, disabling the sunlight to pass through. I rolled the aircon control over my head, to get the best position. Engines rolled. Everybody inside the bus felt really tired. Music turned off. An epic movie entertained the passengers.

Hours passed. I could fell the nature's call. My urinary tract would almost burst. I tried to control it. I changed my position every now and then. I was even tempted to use the empty bottle of the distilled water I bought, to exhaust my urge, when worst come to worst. My predicament was further enhanced when the bus run on snail paced due to the traffic rerouting.

Three hours, of agony ended as I slowly crept to the convenience room of the city terminal. I totally poured out my emotions together with the other passengers.

It all happened in this supposedly day of rejoicing. I'm not thinking of the effects on my part as a consequence. Maybe cough or kidney stones I do not know.

My suffrage

For the last two elections, I haven't exercised my right to suffrage. My name had already been kicked out from the voters list. If I can't register prior to the next year's election, I would not be part of another puppet show.
 
I can't recall the first and the second instance why I wasn't able to exercise my right as a citizen in the country, perhaps I opted not to vote. But last local elections, I decided to. However, an incident happened that hampered the much anticipated battle.

On board a ferry bound for Negros, the jump-off to my province ,I met a woman in her forties. At first, she asked me how to get to Siquijor. I told her what she had to do. She's from Manila and was tasked to transport documents wanting for the local election office. It's her first time to set foot on the island. She had apprehensions if she could deliver it on time, since it was already past twelve in the afternoon and she's a total stranger to the place. 

As I disembarked on the boat to catch a trip to the province, I again met the lady. This time she asked me if I could be her guide. Without further questions , I generously accepted her needed service.
 
To cut the story short, she was able to do her task on time.
 
I hurriedly catch a jeepney to our town which takes one and a half to two hours travel. But my efforts weren't enough, it was already past three when I arrived at our house. I wasn't able to beat the clock.
 
My primary aim was not in vain as I had helped someone who needs it more. I still have to register come election time, to see the faces of the politicians who chant the same hymn over and over again on campaigns.
 
I hope the voters will be more intelligent this time. Choosing not through popularity but on the effective delivery of basic services, which the voter's themselves felt.

Ads at heart

I was strucked by an ads which goes like this, " The heart doesn't tell a lie. The heart doesn't grows old. The heart doesn't loses hope. Each line slowly fades as the next line appears on the screen.The simple ads leaves something to the audience.

Do hearts really lie? I don't think so.We cannot conclude whether it's telling the truth or a lie. What motivates the heart could possibly be the gauge. But motivation itself is something personal.No one could read a person's motive, unless expressly manifested by actions, which may or may not be what it ought to represent.

Do hearts grow old? Contrary to the life cycle wherein all living things get older as they age, the heart doesn't. It's the same unfatigueable heart that pumps blood to the body and vice versa,from the time the body comes into being until it goes to the grave. Most old people that I have talked to, majority of them say that they still feel the same just as during their teenage years. This might be true. They could still feel love, hatred, envy, happiness, sorrow and other affections that small boys and girls, adolescents , middle aged alike feel.

Do hearts lose hope? It probably encompasses the other two.Considering that hearts do lie, and it grows old, but it still boils down to the value of hope. Hope, a strong positive word that implies light at the end of a dark tunnel. It reminds us that failure and defeat is not the end of everything, there's still something worth living for. Ergo, take out hopelessness in your vocabulary.

I just remembered a story about a blind couple separated unexpectedly on the busy street of a metropolis. The wife saddened by the happening, cried silently as she sat in a corner across a fastfood restaurant.Passers-by tried to comfort her. Hours passed. The sun goes down and darkness enveloped the place where she was sitted.

A scavenger asked her " Do you think your husband will look for you Lola?" She smiled and replied, " I have been into this predicament a lot of times and my husband found me. I don't think he couldn't find me this time."

Amulets and Potions

Days from now, the entire country would mourn for the death and eventually rejoice on the resurrection of our Saviour.It might be awkward to say but another interesting festivities will happen on these holy days, which a common christian doesn't know. 
 
Right at the heart of the Visayan Islands, the place known for it's mysteries and magics, where I was born and raised. The mystic island of Siquijor.The province itself is unique. It is endowed with much natural beauty that would surely capture tourists and fills the craving for vacationers. Despite the positive image that the residents and everyone who have roots in the place, try to portray to the visitors, lies still the hesitations and worries that they feel. They fear the unknown which they say is taking place on this rocky island. That being so, every time somebody hears Siquijor, the first thing that comes to their mind is, witchcraft! voodoo dolls! How funny.

When I heard such feedbacks and reactions from people , I just smiled. I could not instantly convince them that it's just a product of imagination.I usually tell them to uncover the mysteries themselves and see what's really the truth behind those gossips.
 
Based on the stories that I've heard , it is on these holy days that faith healers across the country trooped to the island, unknown for the rest of the year, to gather medicinal herbs and plants,endemic of the place. These are processed, specifically on a Good Friday, into herbal medicines and were claimed to heal varied illness and diseases.
 
It is also on these days that potions are made. The juices extracted from the stems, the roots and barks of the plants abounding the locality, go into a tedious process. These are mixed with oils and other matters to come up with a concoction, and said to spell like magic. I could not say it's effective since I haven't tried it myself.
 
In another occasion, my grandfather told me a story about persons having amulets. He said that once he/she possesses this kind of extraordinary "power", he is capable of marching into a battle unscathed since bullets will not hurt him. Sharp things would not even scratch his skin. One source of this so called "power" he said, is when somebody gets the eye of the whirlwind, a very remote thing to happen.
 
If my memory will not fail me, I can recall a unique ritual which I personally witnessed on a Good Friday night, in one of our neighbors. Early on, the members of the group danced around a bonfire. Singing an unfamiliar song. The event highlighted with the head/master stepping and dancing on the fire unburned. The trick was not an illusion at all. We, the spectators saw it in our bare eyes.
 
It is through these much-see events that Siquijor attracts tourists during this month of the year. People eager to conquer their fears of the exaggerated stories portrayed on horror movies.
 
I'm not bragging but it's true, when you set foot on this famous island, especially on Lenten season, the medicines, the amulets and potions you want to get hold of, would be totally put into trash.

It's a little piece of paradise.

Graduation time

While boarding a jeepney to the office where I worked,traffic started to go worse. It was the early morning scenario I've seen for the past two days. 

Neither an accident happen nor any event that would hamper the flow of the vehicles. Magnifying what was going at the end of the road I could see vendors with baskets of corsage and garlands, rushing here and there trying to outdo each other, chanting to passers-by and convincing them to buy their flowers. I realized instantly that it's graduation time. A university in the city held it's graduation rites that morning.

This month of the year makes the city livelier. The influx of people from nearby provinces and cities as well added, to the already crowded streets. 

Primarily, most of them will attend their son/daughters graduation rites. Our enterprising fellow countrymen had their part too. Vendors sprout everywhere, near the vicinities of the graduation venues, they sell corsages, garlands, native fans and of course, water.

It has been the yearly tradition which I think will continue as long as there are graduates, as long as parents continue to value education for their children, and as long as teachers are still eager and willing to mold the minds of the youngsters. I have no doubt this tradition of ours will not end.

Who will forget the delicious foods prepared for the entire family and the wishes from relatives and friends? Doing away with your usual school paraphernalias which you hated most. The burning of midnight oils during exams and cheating. You will miss your friends , favorite teachers, and somebody close to your heart.

Graduation marks another milestone in our life. It's not the end but the beginning. It leads us to another level of our existence.To the real world and the real battle. To put into action what you've learned within the four walls of the room for the past four or five years. Let it be your shield and armour from this day forward.

I myself tucked the memories of my graduation in a special part of my cranium, where I want to, for once in while I can open it with a smile.

High-tech fasting

Nowadays,everything is so simple and easy. The product of mankind's continuous search for the latest technologies. No wonder one could see new models of cellphones, computers and electronic gadgets almost every corner in town. They grow in leaps and bounds.It penetrates to even the most remote place in the country. It became part of our daily lives, just like the other basic needs.Can you imagine without these conveniences for a day or two?
 
The pronouncement of the Vatican for a high-tech fasting is a challenge for us this Lenten season. Minimize but not prohibit. Do not be a slave to this world. 

Perhaps, the message encouraged everyone to fast in a modern world. For instance, if one texts fifty times a day, he can reduce it to half. If somebody enjoys facing the computer the whole day, maybe he can have it for an hour. These are just simple things, feasible for everyone to do.
 
Having accustomed to all these caprices for quite some time now, I know isn't an easy decision. It's like taking away from a child a toy valuable to him.
But the bottom line is sacrifice. Haven't we survive many years ago without these necessities at hand? If we had made it through before then there's no reason why we can't do it now.

Instant speaker, anyone?

To speak before a group of intellectuals hasn't been my comfort zone. I admit, I'm not good at communicating to people.But the barrier within me, has slowly been tored down and I'm beginning to conquer this fear.
 
With barely five hours before the actual activity, I was informed if I could speak on the updates of taxation, as an eleventh hour replacement due the unavailability of the resource speaker. I initially decline. The topic needs a lot of effort. Presentation slides, handouts and other materials to make an efficient and effective delivery takes time to prepare.
 
The discussion to pursue or not was cut short when a co-employee offered his PowerPoint presentation on the topic. Right on that very moment I said yes.
Without wasting time, I scanned the files. Studied every page of the slide. It took me sometime to fully grasp the details, for majority of which tackled on computations,basically dealing with numbers. I tried to crack all parts my cranium, in order to absorb all what I've read, in a short span of time. I tried to recall the stock knowledge that I have, and integrate them on the slide presentation laid down.
 
Questions like, "Can I deliver what these people ought to know?" What if my fear overpowers me, what would I do?.These made me more awkward and uneasy as the clocks strikes to signal the start of the activity.
My knees trembled as I approached the podium. The seminar room though seemingly cold but I perspired. I felt goose bumps all over my body. I whispered to myself, "This is it." I tried to gain my confidence and focus , thinking of something else to ease the tension that I felt, which prevailed for a couple of minutes.
 
The discussion started me giving the participants a brief background on the topic. The confidence that I am armed with, was boasted by the nod and inquiries of the participants, who were interactive this time contrary to when I began delivering my piece. Lively exchanges inside the room lasted for an hour.
 
Wrapping up my presentation, I could hear them clapping in unison. I received positive feedback from them. I was even mistaken as a real personnel from the internal revenue bureau of the government.
I've gone out on my comfort zone. The thing which fears me most turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I have discovered another side of me. With right attitude and determination, I guess I will go far on this. Being a speaker. 

Anyone?
 
However,Robert Stevenson said and I quote, "All speech written or spoken, is a dead language, until it finds a willing and prepared hearer.Right?

And the camera clicks..

I patiently waited for almost two hours as I queued for my sought after e-card days ago. With snailed-paced movement, all I could hear from the rest of the crowd transacting inside the edifice were words and murmurs of inconveniences. An old-aged lady complaining on her contribution. Another worries on her upcoming retirement due to her outstanding loan balance. Still another lady on wheel-chair waiting for her card to be activated. These scenario routinely happens on this government agency everyday.

The same predicament my co-workers feel towards this office. They collectively complain on how the agency is run. Unposted payments, outstanding loan balances although the account has already been settled. 

"We're updating our program". This abused phrase constantly thrown back to all its members.
 
Sitting on a bench, just in front of the transacting personnel, unminding of the growing heat inside, as throng of people come in and out of a little piece of hell. My nerves got back in proportion as I heard my name called. I rushed to the man of my age and laid down my two identification cards with pictures. He took my fingerprints and ID picture, as he meticulously examined every detail on my application.

The horrible afternoon ended me craving for something to eat. I usually don't take in food during afternoon but this time I will.

I couldn't wait to see my face in an E-card two weeks from now. Do I look good considering the factors that I have gone through? It would be another horror.