Third Generation

I was watching my first-born, Alexandra, as she practiced her pistol-shooting skills with her grandfather yesterday. At 15 years old, Alexandra is quickly growing up with a mind of her own and a free-spirit which I can proudly say, she has have gotten from me. Everything else, including her good looks, she got from her mother.  Pretty soon, we will be seeing less and less of Alexandra as she enters college.

She previously studied Spada y Daga (sword and dagger) with me when she was between the ages of 7 to 10 years old. She gave up her kali sticks when she hit puberty and picked up the sports of swimming and volleyball instead.

I introduced Alexandra to firearms when she turned twelve. I taught her how to use a  C02 airgun with iron-sights. Her curiosity for guns kicked in as she eventually graduated to using my .22 cal rifle. During the last holy-week break, Alexandra and I went shooting the rifle at prone position to see her marksmanship skills. My rifle is now equipped with a “monster scope” that can accurately hit zero-mark at 50 feet with gentle-winds.  She used  300 rounds of .22 caliber, sub-sonic, hollow-point rounds with improved accuracy. Her grouping (concentration of hits)  is approximately  8.5 inches in diameter from dead center.

She has since wanted to try my .45 cal pistol at the indoor shooting range where I am a member.  I opted that she start with a  “tamer”  9MM pistol. That was last year and she has since accompanied me to the range when I shoot on Sundays. She still has a “left-hand twist” when she shoots the pistol. Oh well, with more practice, she’ll get the hang of it and improve her accuracy.

It’s very heart-warming to see my daughter slug it out with her grandfather at the range.  My father uses a 9MM Israeli made Jericho pistol. It is an all steel gun that is much heavier than the polymer .9MM pistol that Alexandra is used to shooting with.  At 74 years old, my old man still has the touch in putting bullets down range at the “alpha” level with precision.  

With some families, the bonding moments between generation maybe through singing karaoke. With my family, I guess, it is the Hot Steel that binds the generations.

View Point

I used to keep a pair of green turtles when I was a bachelor. I put them in a big glass tank  that I personally landscaped. I made sure that it was a self-sufficient environment.  There was a little pond in the middle of the aquarium that served as the turtle’s cooling-pool.  The aquarium was filled with layers of sand on top of pebbles that acted as a natural filter for waste-materials excreted by my pets.  I planted green vegetation along the width of the aquarium that will generate oxygen in their little eco-system.  I regularly fed them with “pellet food” to provide the nourishment that reptiles would need to survive in the wild. My turtles lived in a perfect world, far from the predators found in the wild. But was it really perfect for them? Would they really want to live in this glass tank or do they actually prefer to be released in the wild.

I look  at them and I see a peaceful world.  They look into my eyes and I can only wonder what they might be thinking. Are they happy in the perfect world I created for them? I don’t know.  That made me realize that there are different point of views in every situation. The point of view depends on where you are standing.

If you are you standing outside the aquarium, your point of view of the perfect world is confined only to what you can influence.  When you are inside an  aquarium and you are looking out, the world seems to be a mysterious place where anything can happen at anytime, and you have no influence over that.

I guess that goes the same for us mere mortals.  If you have listened only to a single point of view regarding an issue, then your understanding of the big picture is not yet complete. You may already be forming an opinion without considering the full context of a particular  issue.  That I believe is very dangerous. That is called planting the seeds of paranoia.   You may be led into a false conclusion because your information has not accounted for all the relevant data from all the concerned parties. That’s why we always need to hear out the “other side”,or the other point of view. You need to get a balanced assessment. Only when you have all the relevant information can you render a fair opinion regarding an issue.

I will respect your opinion, no doubt. I may not agree with you, but I sincerely ask you to hear all the view points before you fire your guns blazing. For all you know, all the personalities involved in one issue are actually united in their intention to protect someone.  It may only be in how they execute their actions that are different. 

Sometimes I still miss my turtles. Yes, I let them go, one rainy day last July Y1991.  Since I could not get their point of view if they wanted to live in a fish-tank all their lives, I gave them a choice. (Actually, they didn’t fit anymore in my tank as they grew to almost 12inches in diameter…hehehehe) I dug a small ditch in mother’s backyard, filled it with stones, a little water and released them there.  It would be three more days before they ventured outside the backyard and into our neighbor’s pine-apple patch.    

HAMMERED

So you think you have it bad? You feel the whole world is ganging up on you? Probably true, but that’s the not the bad news. The bad news is someone out there is going through a lot worse.

So you think you’re being fucked up pretty bad because your ears hurt? Do you think that the incessant noise made by some madafaka bitch makes it the focal point of your pain? You’re wrong dude. Be thankful. Be very hankful that there’s only ONE MADAFAKA BITCH doing all the ranting instead of a pair or trio of MADAFAKA BITCHES.

So you think you’re being fucked up pretty bad because you’re being left out in some conversations? Do you think that they are talking behind your back when they communicate through body-language instead of spoken words out in the open? Be thankful. Silence is more precious than Gold. Be very thankful, because they might only be sparing you from hearing very spiteful words

So you think you’re being fucked up pretty bad because you’re trying to play neutral with different sets of friends? Do you think that because you knew some of them longer means they are always upright and forthcoming? Be thankful for new friends. Be very thankful because your new acquaintances are building relationships with you with fresh perspectives and without prejudices.

So you think you’re being fucked up pretty bad because you’re different and your preferences are not exactly within the norm? Do you think that being different makes you an easy target for persecution? Be thankful. You are a unique creature of God and you are most precious in His eyes. Be very thankful, because you might realize someday that your eccentricity today maybe your best defining quality.

So you think you’ve been fucked up pretty bad because you feel you were taken advantage of?  Do you think that because you feel shame, pain and anger, you have already earned the right to withdraw from the world? You do not have the monopoly of hurt. Someone out there is going through worse, so get over it.  Be thankful. Be very thankful, that you are not in the hell-hole called Afghanistan were a lot of people no longer feel shame, pain and anger because they are methodically being slaughtered in a civil-war..

Life is not always fair. Most of the time, it is the good people who get hammered with the trials of life.  When you simply resign your fate to chance and prefer to be defeated, that is your choice.  In essence, when you dodge every challenge that life throws at you, then you might as well hang a sign on your neck that say’s – I AM A MADAFAKA LOSER.

Don’t stay down when you get hammered. Get some relief and learn to stand up again. You don’t always have to fight, just pick your self up and stand your ground.  Sometimes, killing your enemies with kindness is the best weapon to use.

Personally, I would prefer to use a .45 caliber hollow-point bullet to deal with my enemies. However, when I am really hammered, I would love to use 5.56mm rounds in my M-4 Colt battle rifle to deal with my pain.

Honda Bay

My cousin, Dr Steven Mckay,Phd arrived at the NAIA last Thursday, July 25 at around 9:30 pm.  I picked him up together with his family at the airport ramp amidst the cold July rain brought about by tropical storm – Juaning.  He was with his wife, Amy Keys, and their two sons – Miles (15) and Charlie (8).

The last time they were in my beloved Pilipinas was pre “9-11”.  Steven was still doing research on American Industries in the Calabarzon for his dissertation. Miles was only 4 years old and Charlie was just about to turn a year old. They stayed at my parent’s house in Tagaytay City for two years.

He then went back to Madison County, Wisconsin, USA where he got his doctorate degree. Since then, he continued doing South East Asian research on Filipino migration.  His work has brought him to Malaysia, Indonesia, Vietnam, Singapore, Hong Kong and Australia documenting the Filipino migration for land and sea-based workers.

While we were having Chinese food during our late dinner that Thursday night , he mentioned that he was visited recently by the FBI.  That was interesting,  I said and  he proceeded with his story.

He was at the professor’s lounge one lazy afternoon in December Y2010 when he got a call from a Wisconsin FBI field agent. The agent performed a PID (Positive Identification) to verify if he was a certain “Steven Mckay” who was a GeoPolitical professor at the Univ of Wisconsin. When my cousin confirmed the information, the agent asked to visit his family’s house that same day. Before he could even ask a question, the phone was already hung on the other end.

The FBI agent was knocking at Steven’s house about 8:00 pm.  He was inquiring if Dr. Mckay was in the Philippines in Y2011 and what did he do during his visit. My cousin of course acknowledged that fact and showed him his Wisconsin University credentials including the book he published after finishing two tears of research here in my beloved Pilipinas.  The agent asked him if he traveled to Sulu or if he knew, communicated or contacted any known extremists affiliated with the Abu Sayaf.

When my cousin asked where the hell these questions are coming from, the agent told him if he was familiar with the Martin and Gracia Burnham kidnapping in Y2001 at Dos Palmas resort, Honda Bay, Palawan, Philippines. Being a geo-political analyst, it suddenly dawned upon him that he was probably being interviewed because of what the kidnapping survivor, Gracia Burnham disclosed in her Y2004 debriefing with the FBI.

Gracia Burnham told the FBI that she overheard the Abu Sayaf abductor talk to someone over the satellite phone which was supposedly a professor from Madison, Wisconsin.  The FBI, he learned from the agent, was chasing down all the leads, nine years after she was rescued.   Dr. Mckay told him everything he wanted to know and the agent thanked him for his time.

I was simply amazed at the tenacity and the resources being put by the FBI in chasing all the leads of that incident since Y2001. The FBI was leaving no clue to fate or chance even if it takes them nine years to follow it up. It is a crying shame that my beloved NBI does not have the same tenacity or resources to put up the same kind of investigation as what the FBI can. In my beloved Pilipinas, after the victims of the kidnapping  are rescued(or worse killed), it is automatically deemed a closed-case.

It was already midnight when we asked for the bill for our sumptuous meal.  Dr. Steven Mckay charged everything to his American Express card. It would be four more days of reunions and feasts before they head-off back to Madison county.

Ninja

The average daytime weather in Fukuoka, Japan is about 14degC during the month of April. It drops to a chilly-average of 6degC during the nighttime.  April is the best time to visit Fukuoaka because the Cherry Blossoms are in full bloom at this time of year. Local tourism also picks up during this month because of the spring-school break.

April is the month when Gabriella ventured as an exotic dancer in Fukuoaka, Japan  during her second year of  marriage.  It is in the hope of finding financial relief to her debt problems  she left behind in my beloved Pilipinas.

Her husband, Honesto, has been a former OFW himself before he got into a serious jam with the law in Taiwan.  Having encountered a near-jail experience due to the fact the he used fabricated credentials, Honesto seemed to have lost all desire to pursue working abroad.  That is where their financial problems began to compound.  One wrong investment after the other, the couple began to feel the financial pinch. Gabriella never felt the support of Honesto during their financial crisis. She was left to fend for the both of them by taking odd jobs before she finally got a job in government.  To make things worse, Honesto has been caught by Gabriella red-handed, or rather with his pants down, a couple of times.

That was the last straw that pushed Gabriella to pursue drastic action.  If Honesto wanted to make things work, he would do anything to save their relationship.  But like most stories in the real world, that did not happen. Instead, she found herself processing her travel and work documents to be an exotic dancer.  She told Honesto ..” …I am going to make money, and I will enjoy myself while  I am at it…”

For one year, she busted her ass off strutting her body on stage.  She also learned to drink, smoke and indulge in all the pleasures she was not used to before.  She did make a lot of money. Yes, more than enough to put her financial crisis out of the red zone. She was adored like a goddess by the rich patrons of the club she worked for. She had her fair share of relationships.  In her mind, she was doing the right thing. “I want to teach you a lesson, Honesto, and I will get even with you..”  But In her heart, she could feel she is slowly dying because she could feel her soul is being eaten away by hate.

Maybe it was faith, maybe it was by luck or maybe it was just her conscience telling her that she could never truly get even. After that sobering realization, Gabriella destroys her thongs, garter-straps, leather-boots and shorts skirts and buys a ticket back for Manila.

Today, Gabriella is back with Honesto.  There were no questions asked between the two of them about what happened to each other’s lives when they were apart.

I feel that she is locked in a love-less marriage, but that’s only me and my non-sense opinions. Still with no children, Honesto is taking contractual-work at BPO’s in the Metro.  Gabriella is now making a career for herself at a match factory.  

She tells me that she also misses her stint in Japan.  That was the only time she felt really alive.  I pray for her happiness, wherever she may find it.

Other people can make you sad. But it is not other people who can make you happy either. Only you can make that happen for yourself. It is just a matter of choice to be happy…  Go for it Gabriella, everybody deserves to be happy under the sun.

The smiling gods

Last night, I realized that our God listens to our prayers and eventually acts on it.  In heaven, I presume, there is also a “queuing ” or “spooling” of requests. Depending on the severity of your pleas, God will fulfill your requests, in his own time. In fact, he even disguises Himself in other forms of deities to relay the actions in a subtle way.

You don’t know how long  I have prayed for divine intervention to cleanse the noise, abuse, and anarchy in our lonely Match Factory.

Lo and behold, who would think that a messenger through the deities of Hinduism would come and answer my prayer?.  I am an unworthy Christian, asking for a little understanding from my God, because I am a sinner too. But at times, I can not help but ask for His help to tune-out the chaos in the place where His lowly servants try to make a decent living.

Thank you, deities for the intervention that you sent yesterday. It has been a long time since  we have worked in peace here at the Match Factory. I guess  my God re-routed his divine intervention via New Delhi, India to make things happen.  I’ll take the blessings anytime.

Hari Ram, Hari Vishnu, Hari Krishna!! You just made my day!

Hide and Seek

You can run and hide..but I will find you.

You may have won four battles but the war is far from over.

Without a doubt, we will shut you down. With out a doubt we will move pass this and you will be remembered only as a  war-story when we drink our brews.

The last 7 days have been brutally difficult for the troops. However, we got the best people for the job. 

Stand Fast and Steady, mates. We will see this through. 

Salamat at Paalam

I will miss you, Ai-ai! 

I have watched you developed from a giggly young lady fresh out from college to what you are a today - a woman of will and substance.

Without a doubt, i have treated you no different from family and I am so proud of what you have achieved. Five years in this organization is no easy feat.

Today, without regrets I say good luck on your new career! I have seen your evolution and you are already set for life.  Be it known that the Urban Legend, a dead-wringer for Anne Curtis, is going to blaze a new trail of success outside the Tumana. 

Wacky Racers

Half-asleep yet driving already at 3:00 am, on a rainy Saturday morning really sucks big time. Man, I could sure use a hot-cup of coffee or cocoa to wake up my senses. As my friend and I slowly make our way towards the ULTRA, we see a 24- hour convenience stores.  Thank God for small miracles! We stop for a while at this blessed place called  MINI_STOP to sip hot cocoa and grab a quick bite. Their over sized pandesals stuffed with cottage-cheese makes my stomach  wants to consume more while my will is saying otherwise  .  We continue to traverse the quiet and wet roads after a few minutes of downing our chow.  It is still drizzling with dark-grey nimbus clouds ominously forming outside. Not a good sign for the scheduled 5:00am run for about 740 registered runners.

We make our way through the wrought-iron gates of the Philsport Arena, which was previously called as the ULTRA.  The guard asks me to park what is now known as the  “Stampede Gate”.  It sends chills down my spine as I think of the poor victims of the Wowowee stampede.  Marginalized people were crushed to death because they were pushing each other just to enter the ULTRA in hope of getting a little a dole-out from that sanafabitch host!   I make the sign of the cross in reverence for all the souls that perished here.

My friend and I are both volunteers for this race event.  My friend is an Emergency Response Team volunteer while I am a volunteer photographer.  This is my first time to be a photographer. I don’t have a fancy SLR’s like the rest of my mates have.  I just brought two digital cameras. My game plan – one for pictures, one for video.  As we walk into the stadium, we are warmly greeted by the race organizers called the Blue Team.     

The Blue Team, I found out, were already at the venue and busy preparing as early as 1:00 am.  They were preparing the runner’s food, water, and racing paraphernalia. Everybody was lending a helping hand in arranging the decorations for the stage as well as the sound system.  The Blue Team will even be race marshals along the killer-route around the Ortigas Center. Mga Maám at Sirs, Ate’s and Manong’s of the Blue Team – HATS OFF TO YOU!!

The runners slowly assembled at the track and field oval. It was now 430 am and still, there is no sign that the sun will be shining its bright yellow rays on the brave souls that chose to be here this morning.  To perk things up, the runners were enjoined to participate in a warm-up dance.  The gyrating body of the lead dancer was enough to spike the temperature of the males species in the crowd. 

I had the privilege of  participating in the ceremonial run to formally open the fun-run.  For the record, I did not volunteer to run that leg.  My labor-management mentor -  Pam, volunteered me, without my consent, a day before the event. She just sent me a race-shirt and said…“by the way..you are joining the Executive  400 run.”.     

Running is almost a daily routine for me.  I run to stay fit.  I ran four races last year. Each event a unique experience. I already ran with my daughter going to Luneta and back to Taft Avenue. I ran with my friends twice at the Global City in Taguig. And of course, my last race was with my wife at the historic Globe-Ayala run.  I picked up this habit as early as high-school. You only need a pair of sneakers and enough will power to run. Actually, the sport of running, to my mind, is the most cost-effective form of exercise.

At exactly 5:00 am, the race-director kicked off the 1^st event of the race, the 10km run with a loud bang of the race-gun.  It was followed by the 5Km leg and shortly after, the 3km event commenced.  A total 441 runners showed up and braved the rains.

The Volunteer Photographers were picked up by a roving van and we were dropped off at pre-arranged stations around the runner route.  Slowly but surely the runners started pouring in and our job to document the event begins.   I pull out my 2 digicams  and started taking pictures and videos alternately.  Shooting a Shutter is a totally different experience compared to shooting my usual Bengbeng Trigger.  With a .45cal semi-auto pistol, the shooting action is fast, fierce, and no room for 2^nd shots.  Just shoot a target at center-mass and the result is always the same, a dead bad-guy.  In using a camera shutter, you have to consider the subject, the composition of the background, your lighting, and speed of movement.  I didn’t realize how difficult it was until I reviewed my photos and most of them were just a mass of blurry colors. Oh well, I thank God that the videos turned out a lot better!

When I run, I normally tune-out everything else in my mind with the aid of my I-Pod.  I appreciate the terrain, the trees, the clouds, the rain, and basically marvel at the creation of our Lord.  Now that the roles are reversed and I am the one taking the runner’s pictures, I appreciate the most precious gift of the Lord – the gift of life.

Seeing people run tells you a hundred and one stories about the gift of life.  If you are still able to run and you feel the pain, it tells you that you are still alive!  

Running also tell the stories of beautiful mothers, making a difference in their work-life balance. 

You can see the tale of friends just enjoying each other’s company in their smooth and easy cadence. 

There are stories of friends that have developed into love because of running. 

You can likewise see the stories of determination and self-perseverance in the way strong runner’s race to the finish line. 

Whatever your story is, running can be your canvass when you tell your tale.    To my mind, the mothers and father who run with their children as a family is the best story that reaffirms my faith in God’s gift of life.

I was just enjoying my self in this new found hobby when the pick-up van re-appeared and started collecting the photographers.  It was a mad dash to the designated finish line to capture the ending of this very eventful day!  The sound system back at the ULTRA was blasting at full-volume to welcome back the runners.

More photo and video opportunities happen as finishers approach the final mark.  Drenched in sweat and rain, tired but happy faces make a bee-line to the finish line and conclude their respective race events. 

There is no happier ending to a 10Km race than to be greeted with your lover’s kiss!

I am beginning to like this photography gig!

I head off home with my good friend still in tow. Thanks for keeping me in your good company.

My heartfelt thank also goes out to Andrew and all the volunteer photographers - Harvey, Van, Dan, Ritzie, Jan, Thess, Roy, Grace, Marise, Bogs, and Mikel for allowing a green-horn like me join your elite group of camera-eagles! It has been really, A FUN RUN.    

TAKBO

Running around the 400meter track-oval of the ULTRA will pump anyone’s heart to create a very good blood circulation.

This Monday and Wednesday, two team-mates huffed and puffed to make ready for the U-RUN race on Saturday – July 09.

They ran,just enough to tone the leg muscles and acclimatize to the length of their respective race-events.

Ladies, this is a Fun Run. We’re not here to get the medals. Go out and enjoy! You may just end up liking this sport and adapting this as a healthy life-style. Good Luck!!!

Shutter Vs. Shooter

Twelve shooters showed up at about 8:30 am last Sunday, July 03 at the Front Sight firing range located at the Home Depot Compound, Pasig City.  We were there to participate in a friendly Club Shoot dubbed as “The 1^st Jun Gonzaga Cup”. Actually, our group was just a novice crew of shooters, all trained by our coach – Jun Gonzaga.

I only knew two of the shooters from my regular Tuesday evening practice sessions. Nine of them, I found out, trained regularly at other days as well.

All the shooters were required to don waist rigs which included a holster and three magazine pouches.  I bought mine, second hand only, about a year ago from a very experienced shooter – Coach Jun Gonzaga.  There was also a minimum number of 110 bullets required to run the three-stage course of fire.

First off was the Standard Drill.  The shooter fires behind a simulated door that serves as your cover and concealment.  Here’s the catch – you have to shoot in a 2×2  foot marker, positioned at the floor. There are four firing positions. The easy position is at eye-level just through a 12×12 inch slot on the door.  Then you engage three targets to the right of the door, making you stretch like an acrobat. Worse, you do it on your weakside too! Finally, you drop to the floor on one knee and fire through another 12×12 inche slot on the bottom side of the door. You are given a maximum of 24 bullets to shoot. 

Second course of fire is the Curly Shuffle.  Initially you engage a swinging target twice that you activate by pulling a rope! Then, you try your luck in engaging a 6×6 inch plate at a distance of 15 meters. You now shuffle into a maze of three targets, hence the name of the course where it was derived.  The most difficult of the three targets in the maze is a simulated “bandit” behind a simulated hostage. You hit the hostage and you lose ten-points!

The last course of fire is Mr. Post Man. I still can’t get the etymology of the name but it was the most challenging course.  It is a combo-course where the shooter starts at a hash-line and chooses how to engage targets located at three mazes.  It now combines stationary, swinging, 6×6 plates, and hostaged targets. 

It was a very adrenalin induced  experience. It’s not the the kind of natural-high that you get from running. It’s a different satisfaction that you get from successfully over-coming an obstacle course and engaging your targets. That’s assuming of course, that you manage to hit all of them. 

It was a fun-day at the shooting range. God knows who won because we were all excited about shooting and didn’t care much about the scores. It was only Coach Jun Gonzaga who kept tab by patiently recording our scores. I was glad I was there,slugging it out with the best of their SIGs, GLOCKs, STI Edge, CZ Shadows, and Colts.  In the end, it shows that training patiently and correctly pays-off during crunch time. I was able to clear all my jams without breaking a sweat. I was very smooth with my magazine changes on the move.  I had my back-up ear plugs which served me well because the range-provided ear muffs got entangled in the barricade. I smile inside and say to myself — “ It’s not in the Pana, it’s in the Indian”.

All the shooters and Coach Jun Gonzaga would be extremely proud of our video-documentation of this event,  provided gratis  by no other than -  HILPHOTOGRAPHY studio’s. Salamat Sir Dan, sa uulitin, rat-ratan ng M4 rifle naman.!!!!

Dr Quack-Quack

Pagkatapos mag pakita ni Haring Araw kahapon ng buong init, eto na naman ang kanyang kambal na si Ulan, nag paramdam na naming muli.  Ang lakas ng hampas ng ulan sa bintana kung saan ako naka-upo. Hay..buhay…buti na lang at hindi ako lumabas ngayong pananghalian. Siguradong para akong basang pato ako kung nag-kataon.

Just hanging out with the mid-shift crew is the right prescription to drive the blues away. There’s nothing like the diffused laughter inside the clean-room of a match-factory compared to the irritating noise from the support production line. Mind you, the floor or is alive with chatter from the call support agents as this is a value-added service we provide to corporate clients.  The noise level that I am referring to is the unnecessary and inappropriate banter going around the floor between some call support agents. I am afraid that one of this lovely days, a client would file a complaint because the ambient noise created by a few overwhelms the voice of the call support agent that the client is speaking to.

O, akala mo ba diyan na nagtatapos yan? Hintay ka lang. Pag umuwi na ang mga kapatas, hindi lang inggay ng bunganga ang iyong maririnig. May palabas pa! Oo, tama ang basa mo. Naghaharutan pa ng habulang -taya ang mga hitad na ito. Dinig hanngang sa labas ng pabrika ang yabag ng mga paang naghahabulan sa gabi. Sabi nga ng isang kasamahan ko. “Ano ito, play-ground???” 

What sweet luck that one of our peers was shifted to night-duty. At least she wont be fucking irritated by the noise. Oh well, that ’s life inside the match-factory. Time to go back and stack those flammable matches in the boxes, break-time is over.

Minsan tuloy nililibang ko na lang sarili ko pag maingay sa pabrika. Iniisip ko na yung mga pasaway ay mga patong  putak ng putak kapag nababasa.  Hehehehe…sabay isip ko kung gaano kasarap putukan ng banjo para may ma-iuwing ulam. Tsalap-tsalap!!!

MIDSHIFT

Nakakaliw….nakakabaliw…pagalingan ng hiritan..pa kwelahan ng “the moves” pero wala namang bastusan.

May papasok na ki-kiss sa kanyang Marce.

May mga pumapasok ng maluwag sa loob nila kahit “day-öff”  para lang makita ang mga bebe nila.  Swerte noong isa, katabi lang bebe niya.  Yung isa, daming tinik na kailangan pang daanan para maging malapit sa bebe niya.(Kaya mo yan Bessy)

Meron naming kumakain ng graba na gamit ay pala. Minsan pa nga daw eh nag ja-jack-stone pa kapag “down-time” ang mga makinang ginagamit.

Meron, chill lang kung mananghalian kumain. Kaya nga niyang pag hintayin ang pagkain habang pinipindot ang tiklado ng computer niya. Di ko kaya yon. Sa akin. pag kakain na, iwanan ko muna ginagawa ko. Nga pala, ang ganda mag damit nito. Sexy, ma-appeal, pero may sabit. Isang boyfren na walong taon nang sila

Meron naman, imbes mag-kape eh dobleng order ng cream-of-mushroom soup ang hinihigop! Sabayan mo pa ng 1pc chicken, wow,..tsalap..tsalap!

Meron din, kayang pag sabayin ang Lasagna at Sisig sa isang kainan. Elib ako sayo ‘mate…lalim ng bodega mo.

At siempre, di papahuli, may nagbabaon din ng sugpo na wari koý kalahating kilo! Ikaw na, ikaw na ang may pondohan sa bakuran!

Sari-saring tao. Sari-saring pag uugali. Sari-saring mga kwento. I just might start a new broadcast called the Afternoon Show.

Full Circle

It was a very warm reunion bumping into Toots this morning. She immediately stood up, pulled me towards her face and allowed me to kiss her soft cheeks.
 

I pulled out my embattled 7.0 megapixel digi-cam and started a mini photo-shoot at her work place. As always, Toots was always game when it came to a clicking camera.  We talked briefly about her July wedding plans and how busy she was with the preparations.  She would already be on leave next week and will be back by August.

In hindsight, I told her, that she has finally come full circle. When she asked “why?”, I reminded her of the story she told us regarding her first date with Jimboy.   She blushed for a while, like a wild cherry. She just laughed and told me that I have a memory of an elephant for remembering that.

Her first date with Jimboy was at the Dambana ng Kagitingan located in the province of Bataan. She was in her sophomore year in high school and she took a leap of faith to go out of town with a guy whose raging hormones were spiking at that moment. Oh it was truly young love and she was head over heels with Jimboy.  The very eventful trip going to Bataan will forever be etched in her memory as “the trip on board the  Panther Lines”  

About eleven summers after that first joy-ride, she now takes another date, this time at the  “Dambana ng Pag-Iisang Dibdib” where she and Jimboy will exchange wedding vows.

You have come full circle, dear. You just had to step back and realize that your journey with Jimboy is now complete. Best wishes and Congratulations.

Enka Na

Life is a continuing journey. Along the way, we eat, drink and rest. 

Perhaps, the act of eating would be the most enjoyable of the three because you can share these palatable experiences with your family and friends as you go through your collective journey.

It has been a couple of days when the rains really hit the Metro hard.  I and my friends took that opportunity to enjoy the food during lunch time to provide a silver-lining to an otherwise gloomy work-week.

The theme for the week is aptly called as “BENETTON WEEK”.  Dare ask why? Simply because we tried Chinese, Japanese, and Filipino food in a span of five days.

The all day Filipino Breakfast served at “Hobbies” brings back memories when you were a child in the province. Imagine when you were back in grandmothers rustic house devouring your nanay’s red and juicy tocino served with garlic fried rice and a pair of native chicken- eggs.  This homey-feel restaurant is located at the Rock Well Business Park at the Meralco Compound in Pasig.   Their house specialty is no other than grilled or barbecued chicken just how your grandparents did it using corn-husk charcoal.  Throw in their squid calamares and you have a truly Pinoy feast at your dining table. 

Craving for Japanese food that is quite affordable? We tried “Rai-Rai-Ken” at the Robinson’s Galleria and were pleasantly surprised with the promos they offered. One could get a free order of Salmon Fish Balls if you order a bento-box combo. We also got a fifty-percent discount because of a separate promo on their double order of bento-box-combo.  The price was actually a steal that left us with no more space in the tummy for a round of ice-cream

One would not be truly Pinoy if he did not pay tribute to his Chinese ancestry. What better way to savor the flavors of China on a Friday lunch than in a China-Town looking restaurant called “Mongkok”.  The set-up of this restaurant is very spartan at best, with steel cushioned -chairs  and narrow tables.  You can still feel the hint of grease on your elbows even after the waiter has aleady sanitized your table.  Now that is a clear sign that the food tastes great because the customers in line could not wait to be served. Just order from the menu and it feels like a lauriat meal already. We kicked-off the meal with  their thick cream-of-corn soup to warm us up from the cold weather.  Lemon chicken strips for a touch of sour.  Steamed-fish with garlic garnishing for a touch of salt. Squid rings sautéed in red chili pepper to heighten the senses. Last but not the least, the cooks specialty, Yang-Chow fried rice for your daily dose of carbohydrates.   

Sabi sa akin ni Beverly, “ang gastos naman ng pagkain sa labas”.

Ang sabi ko,… “Bev, huwag ka magtitipid sa pagkain, mahirap mag trabaho ng gutom, kung ano-ano ang papasok sa utak mo pag puro hangin”

With that said, she turns around and asks “Any body for Dairy Queen Ice Cream? ”

FALCON

Agent X44 or commonly known as “Tony Falcon” is the local version of Ian Fleming’s James Bond 007.  Falcon is a fictitional character who portrays a swanky  secret agent of the NBI. Falcon is best known for doing martial arts stunts while wearing matching suits.

Yesterday, my beloved Pilipinas got a first hand taste of the wrath of tropical storm “Falcon”.  Just like our beloved secret agent, tropical  storm Falcon whipped up quite a stir that left thousands of commuters stranded. The torrential rains flooded most of the metro that saw people wading in the water.

I grew up in what was formerly known as Bo. Kulili, Rizal before it was renamed Bgy. Pio Del Pilar, Makati.  It was nothing more but a marshland before development of the City Government, almost 66 years ago.  While most of Bgy Pio Del Pilar is now concrete, the area is still a low-lying area proned to flooding. Thanks to Falcon, our baranggay was again a cesspool of garbage, debris, and what have you.

Last night, I had the pleasure of wading through the murky waters. Our place looks like Venice, Italy. The striking difference is that instead of wonderfully ornated gondolas to ferry people, our baranggay uses rubber boats to evacuate people living near the estero de estaccion.

Crossing Adelaide

It has almost been three years since one of my best friends left the country to seek greener pastures in Adelaide, Australia.

Her migration to Adelaide was not planned at all. It was a result of a series of unfortunate events.  She crossed Prague under an assumed name, in order to reach her siblings in Paris.  While she was in Paris, she worked as a chambermaid, part-time nanny, and a care-giver. She swallowed all her pride for the sake of her three children she left behind . She made good money by the hour. After a year, all her debts were wiped clean. She could even afford to send money back to her children to buy all the new techy gadgets.  But after two years of dodging the authorities while  working as an undocumented alien, she finally had to go back to my beloved Pilipinas.

Back in our beloved country, lady luck seemed to smile at her once more. Her estranged husband decided to patch-up with her.  They promised each other to rebuild their family and migrate abroad.

Choosing Adelaide, Australia was a stroke of genius.  It is the fifth largest city in Australia with an estimated population of only 1.28 million.  It is a coastal city where the employment rate is roughly 96%! The employment opportunities surprisingly are not aqua-culture,fisheries, or tourism  as one would expect it being a coastal city. Rather, the city is known for its personal-care industry.  A natural attraction for labor-oriented  immigrants wanting to try their fortune.

Today, she looks very contented with her family life. All the kids are back in school. This time, she beams with pride at  private Catholic schools. The husband has a steady paying job which affords them a 4-bedroom house in the suburbs.  She passes the time looking after the kids and keeping house.  She told me she plans to work someday, but not very soon. 

She spent 18 years here, in my beloved Pilipinas, slaving her ass off. Unfortunately it did not get her very far. Because of some very wrong decisions in her career, she was forced to leave the country twice. She paid a steep price the day she left her kids to earn those precious Euro. 

God works in mysterious ways. God does not give us tests which we could not hurdle. When the world slams the doors at us, there is a God (or by whatever name you prefer to call him) that opens a window for us.  I silently pray for her and her family when I say the Rosary. I shall always remember the friendship and kindness she showed me.

Diversion Road

People need diversion to get out of the normal routine.

Some people would smoke as a quick get-away . A nicotine shot to take off the edge from your anxieties.  Others would rather go to a watering hole and drown the blues away. 

Some may prefer to get exercise such as running, badminton, aerobics, boxing, or working out in gym to break out from the monotony of their daily work schedule.

The techy pips of the new generation would delve into surfing, texting, or downloading God knows what from the internet as their own form of diversion.

The cosmopolitan crowd would pick up their SLR cameras and start hitting their shutters as their form of diversion.  But I think a lot of the city-rat-dwellers would just opt  to skip out of town just to get away from it all. 

Whatever it is you find as a diversion, go for it.  A diversion serves as a temporary respite from all the stress and angst.  You tend to think things through after you are finished with your diversionary tactics.

Hell, for me, sometimes I think of a solution to a problem after I do a long run at the park.  Seems we just need to re-boot our brain cells by doing our preferred diversions and we are back on the right track again.

Some diversions literally end up giving you a bang! Just the way I like it, a series of loud bangs to stimulate the heart.  Imagine what a .45 caliber bullet traveling at a sub-sonic rate of 1,800 feet per second can do to flesh. Hell, even a swamp dwelling herbivore weighing about 3 tons  would be no match from a head-shot fired from a .45 cal pistol.  Hey, that’s just me and my twisted diversion, even old men need a quick-fix.

Dee Arneyoo

The value of education can never be under estimated. Education comes in many and varied forms.

There is what we call informal education or learning that is acquired through apprenticeship. 

There is also formal education or what we commonly known as a completed college degree.

There is also something known as continuing education or higher learning that we can attain from attending Masters of Doctorate schools. 

While education from actual experience or what we refer as learing from the “school of hard knox” should never be undervalued,  it will not always be the best option to take. 

Whatever form of education is presented to us, let’s take the opportunity to learn new things.  You maybe surprised to unlearn something that you have previously learned because of new breakthroughs in technology and science. Also remember that we should always have the thirst for continuing knowledge so we can improve our lives.  We learn something new everyday. I am a firm believer in that.  Whether we learn it inside the classroom, beside a preacher on the bus, downloaded video through You-Tube, or just by listening to the stories of your grandparents, try and pick-up new things.

Additional education goes along way. You will never know when you will need that piece of new knowledge you picked up in your own journey. It could save your life.

The ride to the Loyola Campus of the Ateneo (pronounced by true blue eagles as : Dee A- r- n- e- yo o ) was a solid 45 minute ride coming from Makati via C-5 road.  The campus is serene, with lots of birds fluttering about. A hunter’s wet dream.  The estimated schedule of matriculation, as posted on the admission office is enough to give any parent a heart-attack. It’s like financing a second-hand car every year to put your child through college.

On the other hand, the matriculation schedule of the Univ. of the Phils pales in comparison with most private colleges and universities.  The facilities however look a bit worn down. The streets could use some pork-barrel assistance from the Congressional Representatives of QC.  Likewise, it appears that the DPWH has forgotten that this proud bastion of learning badly needs asphalt repairing of its roads!

Oh well, it’s still college hunting for my daughter. We got lots of schools to visit the following weekends.   Really makes no difference where you finish your college education. The important thing is that you finish it.

I tell my daughter that in the work place, it’s not where you’re from that matters, it’s where you’re at.

Class Act

Three weeks ago, we were asked to comply with the rules of proper decorum.

Yep, admittedly, we have taken it for granted and it was about time our wrists were slapped.  Time to toe the line.

I really couldn’t care less about the madafucka bitch who ratted us out. It could have been handled more diplomatically but the bitch decided to do otherwise.  As expected, we, the  underdogs,comply, even during a holiday.

Proud to say that we have even outdone what was required and proved to the madafucka bitch that we are a class of our own.