Featured

The Piercing of Teresa


Duty-bound
I came to execute
The verdict of Teresa
On that appointed eve


Like a soft breeze
Pounding the curtains
I entered unseen
As a pup she laid
Duped that her
Satin and laced sheets
Would get her covered
From the judgement
That would befall her

Then braced myself did I
To enforce her sentence
Cold and swift

Arrow in hand
Steadily aimed
Dug deep in her skin

This I did
Over and over again

Instead of her body
Limped
And eerily silent dead
I heard
Her forceful
Muffled
Shriek

As the steel bored deeper
I heard a
Slapping sound
Squishing
Steady
Periodic

Was I amused
Where the blade had been
Not a trickle of blood
Nothing did I see
But it got more crimson
Like ripe tomatoes
Begging to be picked free

I turned to her face
Contorted it was
Her eyes blocked the faint light
Mouth’s an open vessel
Begging for the rain to trickle
In the dead of the night

Featured

The Old Man And His AM Radio


ctto

One old man
When he is around
He’d sit by the porch
A cup of tea in his hand
In an idle afternoon
While the scorching sun
Retires after burning rice paddies
Mountains, dirt roads, and faces
At times it leaves torrential rain
That reminds us of its promise
It’s sure to be back in the morning

But what I remember oh so vividly
That while he sips his bitter tea
He’s all ears on the stereo
Not on music stations
But tuned in on A.M radio

I didn’t understand
His penchant for the agony of twiddling thumbs
With the occasional curses
Murmurs, smirks, and grunts
About politics in all its
Nobility, hypocrisy, and bullshitry

It was a mystery how he could bear
Listening to news
On what transpired from within and without
And listening to the host
And repetitive commercials
Peddling lies and whatnot

But he didn’t mind
Just looked far away
With the all-familiar grin
What he labelled as circus
Worked out fine for him

Almost three decades passed
No longer do I see him
In the rain nor setting sun
Nor his hot cup of bitter tea
That cools him down
But something remained
Which transcended him and his life
As I sit with headsets on
To the AM radio tuned
Murmuring
Grunting
More generous in my cursing

Featured

In A Parallel Universe


 In there you took notice,
In there you smiled;
In there you said "Yes!"
In there you said "I do…"

If only astrophysicists and cosmologists would uncover,
The wormhole from here to that realm,
Chocolates, red roses, my love so tender,
Care and affection fit for my queen I’d offer:
 
In there you speak, still mesmerized I'd listen;
With your whims I’d laugh out loud;
While your hormones surge and your feelings become a blur,
Which makes a love quarrel with me so enticing and gratifying,
On such days I’d just lock you in my arms,
And plant a kiss on your forehead,
If your mouth wont shut I’d kiss your lips;
I’ll know when you feel the blues,
No words are needed I’m there with you;
When you no longer heed your tummy’s call,
I’d take its place and remind you to get nourishment,
So you wont faint and I’ll worry not;
When you’re exhausted in chasing your dreams,
That you feel the need to stop and shed a tear,
I’d be the ears that will hear your silent screams,
A shoulder and pillow soaked with your fears
For locked in a quantum entanglement, our hearts and minds entwined;

With me you need not wear a mask prolonged
Need not always be staunch and strong
'Cause it’s the lovely and intelligent lady behind that I love and long
 
And when I die and be reborn in cosmic karma
I hope I’d wake up to that new era -
 
Where I am taking care of you
A world where I love you as much as now I do
And there you will love me too...

Conversation vs Fishing, There’s a HUGE Difference


When initiating conversation with a friend, avoid dodging reciprocated questions such as ‘how are you’ and ‘what’s keeping you busy’. It is both impolite and downright annoying.

Remember, it’s a conversation you’re trying to have, not a tactical interrogation.

– (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

Leaves of Autumn


I will whisper it
to the autumn leaves

I will tell them why
the trees slumbered in a lullaby
I will reveal to them
how all tears have gone dry
it was when
you promulgated my verdict:
“good bye”

It was still the sunshine’s reign
as I recall like ‘twas but yesterday
but before I can brace my self
for that mortal dagger
driven to my chest
the chilling sun
and the freezing moon
started to sing a melancholic tune

Nurtured in the soft breeze’s caress
and nourished in dew
brought forth colors
that are changing in hue
for what seemed the start
of a colorful show
marked the end of the summer glow

what else is there to say
but to let the light leave with the day
and this darkness that had befall
be there to stay while bells they toll

I will whisper its dismal moan
to those in twigs still holding on
oblivious to the truth
that it won’t last for long

I will whisper it
to those caught in midair
as they drift farther and farther away
from their beloved they just left bare

I will whisper it
atop the mounded heap
which to earth
did terminally cede

fool’s show it is indeed
for the varied colors that abound
speaks loudly
of the end
without a sound

Reverend Joke


One day came good ole Reverend Father Joke
Grinned as he saw past some bloke
“Say son, I pray, give me some of that toke
For you see, my boy, I’m a bit broke.”

“Heaven have mercy for I almost choked!
Pardon Reverend, is this some kind of joke?”
“That’s my name alright” said ole Reverend Joke
With eyes closed sniffing the smoke.

Let me be the wind


Let me be the wind
that will whisper in your ear
“relax, it’s me my dear”

Let me be the wind
that will pass by your cheeks
to give them a sweet light kiss

Let me be the wind
that will meet head-on your lips
as in love my fingers dip

Let me be the wind
that will sway your hair
and expose your shoulders bare

Let me be the wind
That will caress your thighs
And carry your scent
In the valleys and heights

Dealing with The Embodiments of Pure Evil in the Workplace


I must thank God
and probably
so should you –

that instead of diabolical plots
and rhapsodic images
of your sweet affliction,
He manifested Himself
through reason
before anything
I envisioned
would irreversibly
come to fruition

I must thank God
and probably
so should you –

that instead of regrets
and abysmal sorrow
or that fiendish grin
and gratified puffs
at the sight of
a gasping prey
and the smell of blood,
I uttered a silent
wailing plea
Supplicated for restraint
within my inner sanctuaries
And stabbed my journal
‘til its blood filled the oceans
as it is tossed to and fro
by tempests and billows

The Curse of Blessings


The Curse of Blessings

What good is my art
if instead of
empathy
sympathy
care and
concern,
condescendence
vainglory and
mockery
come forth of which?

Is my quest
to be
stronger
wiser
intellectually extravagant
justified
if my eyes
forsook looking up
and espoused the
delectability of looking down?

Is the by-product of
enlightenment
the disdain for
both ignorance
and the ignorant?

Shouldn’t it instead
beget forgiveness
and understanding
despite that
some people
are unforgiving
of your luminance
that improved
their blur
into shadows?

– (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

The Ultimate Collision Course


In blinding speeds
and accelerations faster
than the speed of light
I orbit the innards
of a particle collider

Heedless

Pointless

Propelled by
the natural order of
who the hell knows
what
or who

without warning
lo and behold
my quintessence
millions, billions, trillions of them
laid bare
right before mine
very eyes

Then it dawned on me
I got smashed into God!

In the Face of Adversity, Don’t Run Away from God. Run Into God


Adversity and conflict
isn’t always
synonymous
to opportunity
It will forever be
a thorn
in my soul
Yet, that
bastard
has caused me
to not run away but
to run INTO
God

Sure there is adversity
in daily existence
that you need
to keep slugging with
in spite of
being bored
to death
And while
I am
busy living
I am also
busy getting myself
distracted
to make that
daily existence
bearable
at least

Nevertheless, there
is always something
to be thankful for:
sex
food
work
beautiful family
being fucking alive
and this art
that has become my
saving grace

But there
is something
special about those
nut-cracking moments:
You let loose of
your grasp
off yourself
and your advantages
both tangible and illusory
and find yourself
clinging instead
to the Rock of Ages
Only when you
do so
can you
tap the power
Power that
is greater than
anything earthly
or mortal
The kind of
power that
keeps the galaxies
afloat to light up
the vast depth
of nothingness

Adversity causes
one to
improvise
It yells at you
at the top of
it’s lungs
to get the
fuck out
of the ordinary
before you succumb
and watch the
best of you die
without seeing the
dawn break

But I haven’t
totally lost
yet
my sanity
by asking
fervently
for my
share of
perennial
uphill goings
just to
always experience
God’s grand
deliverance

With much
supplication
I ask that
I would instead meet
His
presence

everywhere

from highs and lows
and most especially
the mundane

500 Miles


This reminds me of tatay (God bless his soul) who introduced me to immortal songs. Songs that doesn’t respect any year or age or social class. Still haunting, still has the potency of thousands of onions.

While my penchant is rock and alternative music, these are the type of songs that tell me I am one with the universe.

Baby Talk


What others
Can only perceive
As gibberish
Is what glued Orion
In his place
And saved the Pleiades

‘Tis what holds
Neutrons and protons
When they would’ve
Repelled one another
And everything we knew
Disintegrated into molecular dust

What the mind in the dark
Held as prattle
Is responsible for
Nuclear fusion
That fuels the
Ball of fire
In the sky
Which radiates warmth
And illumines
The darkened soul

They cause strings
To vibrate
Where songs emanate
To hush a child
Enrage the oceans
Or bring together
The evil twins of Eta Carinae

It is what makes
The heart skip a beat
On that glorious moment
That two lips meet

‘Tis the language
Of the gods that
The rain
The breeze and
The dewdrops speak
Which Newton
Einstein
Maxwell and
Hawking
Failed to uncover

So shut up you stupid ghoul
And ask the heavens
To save your wretched soul
For what you mistook
As needless existence
Is what gives substance
To your very essence

American Hotdog


American hotdog she has got
It’s what the other ladies have not
Hotdogs of different races
Australian, Hungarian, Italian
Canadian, British, or German
But the most famous of them all
Is the certified all-American

Never mind that these hotdogs are
Freckled
Speckled
With large tomatoes in the face
And who the hell knows where else

Even the gramps
Who has trouble getting up
Let alone keeping it up
They are completely irrelevant:
The stench of death reeking in him
Nor that he is 4 decades her senior

Scorn her as much as you like
With much gusto until you relinquish life
I’m warning you though
You’ve been long dead before you make her cry
Whatever drug she took that made her numb
Anesthesia of hardships
Sedated in BS or whatnot
She’ll cling to her hotdog
Until he runs out of fortune
And that, she’ll tell you
Is a valid reason:

“I got an American hotdog
You dirt-poor dicks
Whatever says my kababayans
I don’t give a shit
Aint gonna toil anymore
Gonna buy me an I-Phone
Premium bags, and shoes
Bear the coffin-dodger’s child I will
Gotta be laid in bed of cotton
Gotta let him fuck me
Till he passes out and die
Gotta suck him hard
Till he bleeds dry
Fuck true love
What can you get out of which
If your stomach is empty
And you can’t buy all your impulses
So what if he smells putrefied
So long as I lay in bed of greens”

Thus she clings on
To his horrid face
So long as he gives her
A queen’s privileges

Lady Bel


Thank God for Lady Bel
When there is none to lend a hand
She is there
A silent assassin
Coldly executing her mission

Her attitude reminds me
Of a lesson I already mastered
Or so I thought I did
But when I saw my current state
Compared to hers now
Damn, I know I already forgot
The grit of a bloodied soldier
To just be there
Present in the moment
Slugging it out
Regardless whether
The going gets uglier or not

She is in the flow
Like an exemplary soldier
Keeping at what she does
Even when it sucks
While I’m here
Engaged in a similar firefight
Albeit engaging two fronts
Banging my head
Trying to cough up a witty line
For this poem and prayer
For Lady Bel

Bless Lady Bel o Lord
Bless her good heart
Via what she is at the moment
A rock, a solid one
I can learn, relearn rather
Lessons long forgotten and gone

Bitches


Bitch she was
She is
And always will be
In as much as I’d like to say:

“Bitch she may be
But there is a bitch
Far better than she
And her name is spelled
K.A.R.M.A”

But I’d rather invoke her not
For wishing another’s misfortune
Is never my lot

But it was only then that I realized
Bitches themselves
Bitch each other around

Struggles of a minimalist who wishes to write extravagant poetry


The minimalist
Willingly calloused himself
Stripped off his senses
Scarce in words
As much as thoughts
Gets upset not with a
Few clothes
A few jeans
Or zero mobile data
Afraid he’ll be creatively bankrupted
By social media

Despite having revered as god
He has locked horns with minimalism
For poetry’s sake
Unfamiliar feelings he now writes
With inappropriate words
Of a child quivering before a dentist
The motocross rider as he somersaults
A lover whose tears from the raindrops you cannot tell
To be answered “yes” or “I do” by a lady

The things he shuns
To not let his feelings run
Stoicism rivalling that of Marcus Aurelius
A layer of rock
That take eons to wear

He then realized
He has flesh and blood
He can grin
And he can fuckin’ cry!
He’s not a machine gun
That eat bullets
And spew them who the hell knows
How much rpm

Now he aches to write poetry
Vivid and teeming with life
And the feelings he trained himself to abhor
The superfluous often thrown to the dogs
Like a whore
That will make him sore
With a red carpet and open arms
He now welcomes home

Albeit, he writes clumsily
A virgin lover in a quandary
Whether he’ll
Kiss her or fondle
Screws up his words, falters and all
Still he writes some more
For non other than he can fathom
It’s only poetry that will save his soul

Song Writer’s Block


Kalangitang walang bahid ng ulap

Lupang nadurog at nangalikabok sa hirap

Hiling ay inspirasyon

Na ako’y gahasain

Pangarap maging rakrakan

Na naging ungguyan

Kinalabit ang frets

Strum lang ng strum

Mistulang sinto-sinto

Walang kapararakan

Papel na tadtad

Ng hangin at katahimikan

Kamot ulo

Suntok sa pader

Tatayo, di-dyinggel

At balik nanaman

Anong nangyari sa creative time?!

Buti pang kumain

O nagbatil nalang

Tumitingin ng walang tinitignan

Nakanganga

Habang hinahaplos ang gitara

At ang kalyo sa daliri

Naging pigsa

Kakakanta ng “Nakarmang Pulis” ng Radiohead

I want to write poetry Lord


I want to write poetry Lord
Poetry that is torn
From the flesh and guts
Poetry that constitutes
The same
Protons
Electrons
Neutrons
As the stars
The rotting bone clenched in a canine’s fangs
Or fart

I want to write poetry Lord
The poetry about whores and saints
Corrupt politicians
Capitalist fiend incarnates
Murderer commies
Rabid “de-most-crazies”
Of Republicans and Democrats
The proletariat and intelligentsia

I want to write poetry Lord
Poetry that will make her heart race to the moon
And back to earth
With an itch she can’t stand
Until I’m finally found

Friday Eve


Float, float in space

Goes my gray matter

In the event horizon

It lingers

Round and round it goes

Hurled with

Great force

Sustained by a child’s ardor

Fueled by

Accretion of man’s

Animosity towards his fellow

Much more violent

Than the fury

Of the deities at Olympus

Or the wrath of a million nukes

Time warped

Like buckling steel

I could dodge a bullet

Fired inches before my temple

Oh for the black hole to suck me in

Before the lead

Find its mark

But then my eyes I’ll shut

And find that rest

While another black hole

Accelerates en route

Towards me

In blinding speed

Scribbling Inside A Moving Bus


Red lights puncture my eyes

Shrill blaring horns

Incapacitate my ears

Mind adrift

Savoring the blank

 

While I sit

Pen and paper in hand

In unintelligible scribbles

The bogie beside thinks I’m loon

Stares far away

Then bows head

Write a few words

Then looks away once more

Ad infinitum

 

While I sit

Freezing in the aircon

Steamed in fumes and carbon monoxide

Soulless ghouls

Board and alight

 

Hell I learned to cherish

The creative me unleashed

The good aspect of traffic

Gazini Ganado Kumain


Your smile transports me in time

To a lunatic asylum

Where I cut my self to bleed words

It bled air instead

Where I grasped them in the air

My hands caught wind

 

Your touch made me pound the Pearly Gates

Demanded God to let me in

 

“I thought you sent her to take me in?!”

“No I didn’t. Just driving you nuts that is.”

“Where is her reward then? She did one heck of a job!”

 

Could’ve said “congratulations”

Or something witty

That’d tattoo me in permanently

Deep in her memory

 

But I just said “sure”

 

(Damn it!)

Public Service Announcement: Calling The MIAs To Take a Stand in the Water Concession Fiasco


PANAWAGAN: KUNG MAAARING MAGPARAMDAM ANG MGA NAWAWALANG MGA PERSONALIDAD AT MAGSALITA AT LABANAN ANG MAPANIIL NA WATER CONCESSION AGREEMENT

Where are these so-called social justice warriors when you need them the most?

Where are those who claim to be stalwart advocates of the sanctity of human rights?

Why can’t there be outrage and rallies held with slogans and effigies condemning the Ayalas, Pangilinan, and accomplices in the government in “gang-raping” Filipinos’ basic human right to uninterrupted supply of clean, potable water guaranteed by the constitution? Where are your calls for unity urging citizens to keep an eye on the government and be vigilant to demand protection for the people from the evils of capitalism specifically the recent the Php 7.4 billions that we as taxpayers are doomed to pay because of the onerous contracts? Why can’t the Panday Sining do their art with this theme in mind? Where are the “pro-people” minions of Joma? Did the Reds have their battlecries changed? Whose interests were they brainwashed to protect at all cost to begin with?

Where is the Church who rabidly stands for the people in the name of God as they claim to be? Surely you remember when Pope Francis said that Capitalism is “Terrorism Against All of Humanity”, don’t you?

Are you hesitant to make a stand for the truth just because the man who criticized the unbecoming of the Church is the same old man who made a lone, treacherous, and possibly his last stand alive against the formidable gods of the business world and their malevolent corporate greed?

Where is the Commission on Human Rights and the rest of the human rights groups who are itching to engage the ICC despite that it is a blatant disrespect to our sovereignty? And be that as it may, why can’t they ask the same ICC to pore over the onerous contracts that bleed the people dry especially the poor? Or are they just specializing on EJKs, specifically those allegedly committed under the Duterte administration?

Were you afraid of taking the side of the common people because it’s tantamount to biting the hand that feeds? Is hypocrisy the new definition of working smart?

Where are the saccharine-lipped politicians who promised heaven and earth during election campaigns? Can you abandon your current ease to protect us despite that a lot of you derive your campaign funds from these capitalist demigods? And when you win don’t you become marionettes to big wigs subject to “utang na loob” for your “success”?

Where are the self-proclaimed allies of the president who vowed to serve and protect the welfare of the people alongside him? Is your allegiance a transferable commodity commuting from one profitable place to another?

Have we developed double, triple, quadruple, perhaps even multiple standards on morality just because certain situations favor us?

Is it difficult to take a stand just because we got too comfortable and we benefited tremendously being in the middle and upper echelons of the capitalistic world which we fostered and fomented?

Have we ultimately succumbed to Mammon almighty?

Kick Ass Attributions


In our Christmas party, my former expat boss in my previous company (who happened to be our country manager in my current employment) stopped at the table where I and several officemates are seated and asked me “do they serve Redhorse here?” referring to a local beer.

“No, only Heineken and draft beer” I replied.

Why was he looking for Redhorse? My fellows asked me.

Because that reminds him of me, I said with a little chuckle.

During our night-outs in my previous company, I always prefer Redhorse beer over any other alcoholic beverages. It has a more potent kick than any other brands so it gets you inebriated in no time. And thanks to its macho commercial presentations with local heavy metal bands, you are most often revered as a badass. Back then when my boss would see me drinking Redhorse, he would compliment me of my choice and would eventually get his own. Hence the comment.

Redhorse = Me. Wicked!!! \ml/!!!!!!

A special friend once attributed me to a song which she heard playing on a radio. The song was Killing in the Name by one of my all-time favorite band Rage Against the Machine. The moment she heard it, she told herself ‘Shit, he’s near’ which she eventually related to me when I got there.

I can’t stop grinning after that.

Because of my long and curly hair, I am often mistaken as a member of a rock band. I said no, I am not part of any band even though it is still one of the many items in my bucket list that I pine for. Nonetheless, I sport this rock and roll look like I am a member of a world-famous heavy metal band. I own my looks and I am confident and unapologetic of it.

Which is what, or so I thought, made a stark contrast with the general atmosphere of a corporate world where almost everyone is prim and proper to look more sophisticated. I didn’t care. So long as I am doing what is asked of me, I am donning this personality because it’s the authentic me.

One office-mate in particular commented that I have similarities in style with Ryan Rems. I never really know the man but whatever. Like myself who chose rock and roll, he definitely has chosen well.

The Price of Writing is More Writing


Celebrating your small wins as a writer is not by dwelling on your success but by writing more.

Never get too inebriated by your success. You were celebrated not by people’s praises for your ingenuity but for that piece of your heart and soul which you bled on paper, courageously shared to the world, and consequently touched somebody else’s emotions.”

The Name’s Not At All Relevant

Chicken Feet Adobo


ctto

It’s been years since we’ve had this dish of chicken shank and toes (sans the claws and spurs of course!) cooked in soy sauce. And so when we found a stall near our home where they sell fresh chicken and chicken feet, we didn’t hesitate on our indulgence.

There is so much to go through to get so little when savoring this particular dish. But that is where the fun is. And it’s quite funny that you will munch on the fowls’ lower extremities that are sometimes formed into crooked “dirty” little fingers.

To eat it, you must flay them one toe and shank at a time using your teeth to get the cartilage and whatever skin there is, which is really not that much. It’s just like getting only 40 percent of the total weight apiece.

These are oftentimes sold as street food grilled on embers (barbecued) and not as a main course. Initial preparations involve boiling it long enough until its toes are tender enough for it to become chewable before broiling. As such, it isn’t a dish that in itself can satisfy your hunger immediately. You’d have to allot time for you to enjoy it.

This weekend, both my two kids insisted on having chicken feet adobo despite my protests to let them have the meaty fried chicken instead. Two grown boys whose meals weren’t just a spoonful and I have to debone one toe and shank at a time to get the small fruit of my labor of love. My wife left the table leaving an inaudible yet explicit message. Lunch extended for hours, as expected.

Domestic Diplomacy


ctto

Three diplomat gentlemen were gathered before the start of a caucus.

Diplomat 1: What kind of relationship do you have with your wife?

Diplomat 2: Ours is bilateral.

Diplomat 1: Damn, you’re lucky. Mine is unilateral.

Diplomat 3: Tough luck. Before we got married it’s bilateral. Right after the wedding it’s unilateral.

Diplomat 2: Did you file a diplomatic protest?

Diplomat 3: How can I? A few years down the line it improved to hegemony!

The Toxicity of Writing About Politics


It’s a bit tiring writing political blog entries.

Tiring in a sense that I get literally hungry and it calls for immediate decompression after writing. Funny that while I turn to writing to decompress, I need to decompress after writing about politics.

It’s a welcome break to get out of the default state of mind by the way. After the everyday blues, the busyness in the workplace and relatively tranquil family life, there’s a place for the socially enraged and disgusted me to let itself loose and get articulated.

In my many moments of silence, my mind is usually focused on fundamentals of life if not totally blank in order to stay in the moment intoxicated with inner peace.

But when I, among the many, start to deal with politics, the state of having a blank mind takes a backseat. The indifferent suddenly becomes a frenzied partisan who would rather die than surrender his views. You inevitably partake with both the divisive and the toxic.

Yes I take sides, if that isn’t already obvious. The politically, morally, and intellectually correct side. Where before I choose to not give a fuck, now I do for the sake of my children who will remain in the system long after I’m gone. My views may not make much of a difference but collectively with other shareholders, it might make the necessary dent which will become the catalyst for the long overdue overhauling of the Philippine society.

So yep, that pretty sums up my motivation. To aid in a collective effort to remove the blinders from Filipinos in order for them to see the elephant in the room and take necessary action. As a nation, we are already light-years behindhand in facing squarely the things that are crippling us as a nation.

Which is why I am an avid reader of Get Real Philippines, a site who earned its reputation for piercing the victim mentality and other justifications on why the Philippines remain a sorry lot (credits to Gogs for his kickass tagline). Behind the occasional glitz and glamour, the fundamentals of the Philippine society still lie in shambles, thanks to Juan’s ever pathetic excuses.

And if you notice that some articles here are the same with what’s published in the site of Get Real Philippines, that’s because the ghost writer and the writer behind this post and the rest of this blog are one and the same.

<<www.getrealphilippines.com/2019/11/yellowtards-hit-all-time-high-moral-bankruptcy-with-tweets-mocking-earthquake-ravaged-mindanaoans/>>

There are a couple more articles there that are written by me. Yes, me. The voice might not be recognizable but it’s me alright, haha!

How I Found My Flow


ctto

Before I was able to discover my flow, work and writing were, well, work. But when I finally learned to enjoy what I was doing, things started to fall into their proper places.

Work when viewed in itself is taxing and enervating considering that you have to present yourself 8 hours or more in a day. But since you have bills to pay and mouths to feed, and the fact that you’d be doing it for more than half of your life alive, you might as well change your frame of mind regarding work. You have to love it, you have to enjoy it. It’s for your own health.

Flow by the way, based on my lexicon is where you are neither too bored nor overly stimulated while doing your work or hobby (I didn’t coin the word. Just adopted what flow meant exactly for me.) Just the feeling that you can keep on doing it all day.

My flow started to manifest itself the day I threw the “trivial” and “obvious” labels out the door. Whatever learning that comes is treated like the long lost and found secrets of the universe — with reverence and awe.

That and generously granting myself forgiveness. Where before I immediately berate myself for not knowing something seemingly obvious or simple, I am now quick to forgive myself. And instead of wallowing in self-pity, I immediately take action before any self-sabotaging thought pops up.

Rather than constantly judging my capabilities with other people as archetype, I focused on my improvement instead. I acknowledged my strengths and devised ways to further their enhancement. I also acknowledged and made necessary changes of my shortcomings.

The day I stopped making excuses marked the commencement of my flow.

Real Men Say “Thanks”


ctto

Gadgets get obsolete and beliefs inevitably become outmoded. But while we men evolved from savage, bloodthirsty warriors to 21st century gentlemen, some things stay universal.

That includes expressing gratitude. Or should I say must include.

An individual who knows how to say thanks with all sincerity is already at a premium nowadays where self-entitled kids and adults abound. Specifically, us men. Thanks to social media, being a 150 pound slab of beef full of himself is fast becoming the norm.

However, contrary to the misconception that expressing gratitude makes a man soft, it is in fact the opposite. We need to include this to our daily rituals if we want to become the mother-fucker every boy envies.

Saying thank you requires courage to admit that there are things in life that can only be given to you via grace.

Saying “thank you” speaks a lot about your robust emotional health and mental fortitude.

Saying “thank you” means you are secure about yourself.

Saying “thank you” lets you become vulnerable and tough at the same time.

Saying “thank you” makes you a certified badass.

And finally, let me give you my heartfelt thanks for dropping by to read:

Doumo Arigatou Gozaimasu!

Walkathoughts: Intro


photo from scoppnest.com

I don’t take the MRT when I commute to work. Instead, I take the bus. This benefited me in two ways: first, I get to rest. Traffic is horrible that’s true but those hours in traffic gets me dozing for a few minutes. Second and more important is, I was able to ditch my subconscious programmed-mind momentarily to meditate and access my creative mind. I don’t access my phone in those instances for fear of snatchers so it was solely my imagination at work penned on paper. By the way, much of my posts in my past and present blogs were written while the bus painstakingly inches forward during the rush hour. 

On a leisure, can I walk from Ayala to Cubao instead of taking a ride? I found the thought appealing. I may not be the sporty guy but I sure do love to walk. And so I thought it would be a good way to burn calories, fats, and to sweat out. Thinking how rigorous it will be and considering that I am already going home late every day exhausted and depleted of strength and will, I didn’t give it a serious thought just yet. 

That is until the April 22nd, 2019 earthquake. The shaking was so severe that we had to evacuate the building. A lot of us have gone home instead of going back inside the building thinking worse is yet to come. So I headed to Ayala MRT bus stop to get a bus ride to Farmers Plaza in Cubao. When I arrived in EDSA-Ayala, a multitude of people are already in the middle of EDSA scurrying to board the already jam-packed city buses. It isn’t always the case that a throng of commuters are waiting for buses but I soon realized that MRT shut down its operations because of the seismic activity earlier. I tried to wait for a few minutes until I realized that the traffic jam almost didn’t budge at all. 

Oh boy, this is it. 

From EDSA Ayala to Farmers Plaza Cubao is 10.0 km according to Google Map. I didn’t even have the necessary warm ups earlier but it was either I wait eons for a bus ride or I start walking to close the distance. At first it was fun, finally fulfilling what I’ve only been thinking of. And besides people of all sorts are walking alongside me in a mass exodus to go home.  

My knees and legs are already shaking as I pissed in Robinsons Pioneer but I continued nonetheless until I reached Crossing (EDSA corner Shaw Blvd in Mandaluyong) to grab some food at Jollibee for me to sustain the remaining 5 kilometers. So near and yet so far! Perspiration was gushing like blood flowing through a cut artery. 

Finally I arrived in Cubao after about 2 hours of walking. My lower extremities were totally numb and my knees are ready to buckle anytime. Thank heavens I was able to make the walk without fainting or getting mugged along the way. It was a hell of a night but strange enough, I felt good after as I conquered one physical challenge that I initially thought I couldn’t make. 

And so from there, I planned to make the walk regular. Not from Ayala though. From Greenfield District in Mandaluyong to Farmers Plaza Cubao is 5.80 km according to Google Map. So halfway should be manageable and it is ever since. 

A lot had been going on in my head while doing the walk. I love it. No distractions, not even a glance at my phone. Just plain walking and meditating in the otherwise hellish traffic. 

Just a word of caution though: if you want to try this yourself, be sure to concentrate on your environment or you might be oblivious to the traffic light that already changed or the fellow next to you who is uncomfortably too close. And of course check your physical condition before doing this one. 

I’ll post the “thoughts” part on the next installment of Walkathoughts. 

Cheers mates! 

Mortality Thoughts


Me and ex-girlfriend had been to the wake of the old man whom we bought flower pots from. He adeptly crafted flower pots out of old tires which we patronized. He was a good fella, quiet, soft-spoken and artistic as evident in his handiwork.

Our recollections were on how he touched lives in his own simple ways, ours included.

This made me pore on the certain, inevitable future when my life reaches its conclusion: will I be remembered as a good old man? (I hope He would grant me a total of 70 years to live.) I seldom ponder on thoughts as morbid as death but this is the inexorable truth so whether we admit it or we admit it, might as well consider it while alive because we can’t do so in death, eh? This led me to the following questions:

  • Have I touched anyone else’s life enough for them to remember me?
  • Will I be able to see myself in the people I’ve been with as I watch them in my spirit form?
  • Will I be leaving enough traces of myself that added value to someone else’s life?

Only God knows 4W+H. I can only do the work and try. I don’t believe in wasted efforts in doing worthwhile stuff anyway because no energy is destroyed as per thermodynamics. It can only be converted from one form to another. Give something affirmative just for the heck and love of it. The universe will eventually channel them back to you in unimaginable ways.

When it’s finally lights out for me (hopefully 4 more decades from now,) in my wake, I want heavy metal music playing. It would be the best sendoff, rocking my way to the pearly gates and knocking on heaven’s doors.

And when I’ll be buried six feet under, I hope I would be worthy of the epitaph:

Here lies the man who rocked, who looked like Kirk Hammett, badass lover boy, badass husband, badass dad, good friend, rock and roll man, unapologetic, did what he said he would do, did worthwhile things instead of pondering on them, and a writer who touched hearts and minds of many.

Here lies the man who lived while alive. And is now knocking on heaven’s doors waiting to be opened.

I Lost, The Day I Won the Jackpot


If there was a time I wish I didn’t win in a raffle draw, it was when I won a TV during our 2011 Christmas party.

Displayed in a conspicuous area in our venue were the raffle prizes: oven, blender, single gas stove burner, and a TV which happened to be the first prize.

Of course my officemates were all hyped about winning the TV, all except me. How can I? It was a 30-inch cathode ray tube TV weighing a gargantuan 25 kilograms! My initial thoughts were one, how will I be able to bring it home in case I win (I have no car) and second, no thanks. I’d be happy to win anything there was but THAT television.

The party went on as usual. I could care less if I won’t be able to take home anything so long as my tummy’s happy. So I’ve had my fill, drank a couple of bottles or so of booze, and got pretty much contented having small talk. I paid little to zero attention while others were playing games and while winners of the raffle draw were announced occasionally.

I was still talking with an office mate when I suddenly realized that excited eyes were on me. It was then that I understood what happened: the “grand prize” winner was just announced.

Oh shit.

My face glowered letting off a “what the f… REALLY?!” look. I couldn’t believe that my potential problem of taking home a dead weight is actualized. I tried to trade with the other raffle draw winners in a desperate attempt and even offered to give it to anyone for free (Letting go just like that of a three thousand pesos CRT TV is, uhmm sort of a no-brainer. You know what I mean…)

Nobody accepted the offer. I thought I heard each of them say I’m not stupid.

Or it’s either they deemed my offer too good to be true or they are just too polite to laugh loud in my face for my “good fortune”.

Unfortunately, the story didn’t stop there.

Due to the TV’s enormous size, I was compelled to pay one additional seat beside me. Towards the end of my commute about a kilometer from Ortigas Avenue to our apartment, traffic jam is so severe that everything was on a standstill. Which leads to the vexatious realization that I cannot have a ride home. And also, the sky was gloomy which added to the mockery. Thankfully my brother in law was there to share the required muscle and inconvenience.

A few days after the ordeal, Rex an officemate, offered to buy the TV for 2000 pesos. He almost took a fist to his face. Seriously? 2K in exchange of the dead weight and all the hassle? No freakin’ way!

Separate Lives – by Stephen Bishop


One of the most underrated love songs of all time hauntingly sang by Phil Collins and Marilyn Martin.

While I don’t have a first hand experience of how Stephen Bishop might have felt when he wrote the song (I never wanted to know how it felt first hand anyway!) I can’t help but sing along with the melancholic melody.

I hope I also have the talent to write gut-wrenching songs such as this one aside from writing prose and poetry. So little time, so much that I want to do…


Separate Lives
Stephen Bishop

You called me from the room in your hotel
All full of romance for someone that you met
And telling me how sorry you were, leaving so soon
And that you miss me sometimes when you’re alone in your room
Do I feel lonely too?

You have no right to ask me how I feel
You have no right to speak to me so kind
I can’t go on just holding on to time
Now that we’re living (living) separate lives

Well I held on to let you go
And if you lost your love for me, well you never let it show (never let it show)
There was no way to compromise
So now we’re living (living)
Separate lives

Ooh, it’s so typical, love leads to isolation
So you build that wall (build that wall)
Yes, you build that wall (build that wall)
And you make it stronger

Well you have no right to ask me how I feel
You have no right to speak to me so kind
Some day I might (I might) find myself looking in your eyes

But for now, we’ll go on living separate lives
Yes for now, we’ll go on living separate lives
Ah, separate lives

Bunggaw


Baket 1: Ayna! Umay kayun kaarruba darsən yu ti rumwar!


Baket 2: Apay aya Shana anya la unay ti pukkawəm?! 


Baket 1: Kət addadtan sumungsungadən ni Bunggaw!


Baket 2: Siaasinnot kunam dayta um-umay? 


Baket 1: Ayna kət ni Bunggaww daytay iksikyutib asistant ni Dutirte idey nga sinadur itan! Addadtoyen ni saərr Bunggaw ayna apu! Bunggaw! Bunggaw! Bunggaw!…

I Love You – With No Strings Attached


Quote above by Antoine De Saint-Exupery

I said I love you,
Of course you heard it right;
Am not playing yo-yo,
In case you think I might…

Once a girl had a dream –
Of the world that she would conquer;
Once a boy had a dream –
Something far more loftier: the dreamer girl…

On “VP” Leni as Drug Czarina


What PRRD actually did when he opened the door for “VP” Leni is to unmask her glaring ignorance of the true state of the drug problem (which she exposed herself anyway) and her true motives. Too bad we are in a democracy that he had to offer the post out of fairness, for a chance for Leni to prove herself that she can do better despite that the current drug war is working well.

The vast majority, myself included, even clamor that the ongoing drug war be waged even more aggressively such that there will be more apprehensions, more confiscations, and more stones unturned to reveal the big wig protectors and distributors, in whatever social echelon they may be. If it becomes bloodier because the users and peddlers will choose a violent ending, in the name of implementing law and order and including lawful self defense of law enforcers, then so be it.

Anyhow, at this early point in time it clearly shows the indisputable fact that she doesn’t know shit what she is doing and that she is just using the role given to her for political gain instead of offering tangible help in putting the lid on the drug problem. Need proof that she’s getting “all over”?

  • She had been criticizing the drug war for trivial reasons. Trivial because recently she said she needs to have a look at relevant data on the current drug infestation in the country. So what exactly had been her bases in the past in criticizing the drug war?
  • She doesn’t say anything about her own plans on how to curb the drug problem. Ever since she became the front liner of the Yellows who fell from power up to now that she was appointed as drug czarina, she was all talk and no suggestions. And;
  • Now she wants to involve US and United Nations in the local drug problem. Her shrill cries for human rights, along with the yellows from the start of the drug war up to the present, makes it obvious that she wants the world to know that she had finally been involved in the drug war. Why? Because it would give them a crack at demonizing PRRD in the worldwide community because they can no longer convince the vast majority of Filipinos. And hopefully, they’re fervently praying up to now, that this will finally be their ticket in impeaching PRRD.

If Maria Leonor Robredo’s game plan (if she ever has one to begin with) means fewer arrest of drug addicts and pushers, fewer seizure of the illegal substances, endangering law enforcers because of softer apprehension procedures, I hope she gets kicked out of ICAD immediately.

You don’t even need to be a law enforcer to realize that there is a time for diplomacy and a time for decisive action. Once a drug addict succumbs to the influence of illegal drugs, he is already an inexorable walking omen of violence and death. The same with peddlers and suppliers who are all out in protecting their “business”. The only language they both can speak with are the sound of their pistols. How can you even reason with such people and expect a bloodless anti-drug campaign?

When she talks about saving a single soul, is she just trying to sound cutesy and appear motherlike to mask her air-headedness and the greed of the Yellow puppeteers to which Leni remains a marionette to?

Drink what?!


photo from argentina-travel-blog.sayhueque.com

Paris, and I were talking about a friend and officemate Ely who just left for another office. She recounted that they frequently get in touch as a group and they do so in a drinking spree.

Ely doesn’t drink anything tinged with alcohol so I was surprised when Paris told me that they went for a dose of never ending stories downed with booze.

“What did Ely drink?” I asked her thinking it was either San Mig Light, ladies’ drink, or anything with a minuscule trace of alcohol.

“Iced tea.”

Yellowtards Hit All-Time High Moral Bankruptcy With Tweets Mocking Earthquake Ravaged Mindanaoans


When subjected to extreme situations where it means either life or death, the primal response of the human brain brought about by thousand years of evolution is either a fight or flight response. It is where things are reduced to essentials and the superficial and the miscellaneous take a backseat. To come out alive of anything that threatens survival is the only goal at hand. No matter what it takes, he’s got to stay alive. That is how HUMANS should have supposedly evolved.

How about Filipinos? Now that’s a good question.

Politics have never turned so amusing than when PRRD was sworn into office. This is perhaps because the common tao might have figured out that they finally found a level ground where they can deal with the Yellowtards. Before, most just turn a blind eye believing that speaking out will only go so far. That’s because in the long run, it will eventually amount to nothing considering that the elites have the monopoly of the manipulation of their greatest asset: public opinion. But thanks to their monumental gaffes and including those who are persistently educating the public with the truth, the match is now even, if not lopsided.

Change has come indeed. The once formidable Yellows may have finally met their nemesis which was evident in their catastrophic loss in the 2019 midterm elections.

They have definitely gone down. But of course they won’t give up that easy without a fight. Their occasional goofing around are manifestations of them being the epithet of the slugger who is still swinging while going down hard. However, the boxing is far from over. The opponent might have hit the canvas but he is far from out. And so the slugfest continues.

It’s an amusing political circus with highlights headed by “VP” Leni Robredo with her words of wisdom. Entertaining as they are, they are fast becoming a bore and nuisance.

But it may not only be the Yellowtards who are becoming amused and too preoccupied in devising ways to gain the upper hand in the propaganda war. The problem in engaging with such war, whatever the motive is, is that everyone may become oblivious to the essentials such as the immediate alleviation of sufferings brought about by the recent earthquakes in Mindanao.

It’s as if the hypothetical boxing arena with all the people inside is on the verge of being obliterated by a threat outside but the crowd is still pre-occupied with who’s gaining the upper hand in the match. Instead of momentarily setting their differences aside to unite in one good cause, what they do is throw jabs that are not at all relevant with the dire situation at hand.

First came the drug war. People seem to have forgotten that the casualties seen every day are but the tip of the iceberg that the drug menace has become. It’s hard to understand why some people want to stop the war “that isn’t working” that made the streets relatively safer than before. Is it that hard to see that curbing drugs will lessen future casualties? If the drug war evidently protects our children, why can’t they unite with the government’s efforts against the drugs while closely monitoring the prudence of law enforcers during the conduct of their duties?

When ISIS almost turned Marawi City into a terrorist state, the military needed to execute martial law as part of the efforts to subdue Isnilon Hapilon and his allies. As expected, it was maliciously tied to the martial law during Marcos. The worst part is that the soldiers and policemen, which includes those who are faithfully fulfilling their mandates to protect the people and state at the cost of their lives, are being vilified and accused of unfounded claims of abuse.

And then the recent gaffes by Leah Navarro and Yolly Ong in their hypocritical sorry-not-sorry apologies. If the “you are a Romualdez and the president is an Aquino” blunder sealed the fate of Mar Roxas, the Yellow’s recent politicization of the deadly earthquakes is a clear manifestation of their all-time high moral bankruptcy. Natural calamity victims, both DDS and non DDS, being subjected to mockery just because the current president hailed from Mindanao? Really? How much further low can you go?

It clearly shows how morally unfit the Yellows are to lead, considering that they have to identify who is pro and anti, to qualify who is more deserving of help.

And it just shows that public service is only secondary, if not the last on their list, to their political agenda. Their greed for their lost power no matter how they disguise it with perpetrated lies disseminated by main stream media, leaks out eventually revealing their sinister motives. It’s amusing how they seem oblivious to the fact that they themselves are putting the final nails of their own political coffins without help from anyone.

And for the rest, it’s easy to fall into the trap of gloating over the faux pas of the opponent and becoming rabid, condescending, and quick to condemn without looking internally. One should not forget that beyond all this political spectacle, humanity should take precedence above and over everything else especially when, like the immediate needs of the victims are needed the most.

Picking Scabs


ctto

Nothing works best in exhuming presumably “dead” anger than picking scabs. The drying laceration can become a nasty, pus-laden, infection-throbbing gash instead of drying up and turning to scar. If it is painting a loathsome portrait in your mind, imagine this type of infection happening inside your heart and mind.

That’s how it went when my rage over my past experiences in a hellhole was brought back to life via a conversation with a former office mate. I thought I was finally in control of my anger since it hasn’t resurfaced in a while.

By nature, we tend to focus on strong feelings of anger that’s why they are more poignant when brought back from memory compared to good but forgettable ones. We hold the latter loosely in comparison to the former.

Yep, loose thoughts wander without causing damage like a loose particle idly floating around. But with enough energy and focus, they can become the deadly gamma rays that can fry the hell out of anything they come across. Couple that focus now with rage and it can form a radioactive and volatile concoction. I realized how potent that mixture was when I observed myself as I was, out of nowhere, ready to enter into a brawl with anyone with the slightest provocation in the guise of “defending” myself. It’s that sudden. Left uncontrolled, it won’t stop and respect any reason like a charged particle travelling at the speed of light.

No wonder people die or get hurt during a road rage or during a seemingly harmless confrontation.

But before I ended up from being the adorable Jack-jack to the abominable flaming demon baby, I was lucky to manage the sharp turn from this maniacal rage build up to a dead calm. Thank God I was able to get past this potentially dangerous mindset. Well, momentarily at least.

Gratitude

I often neglect this but every time I let the thankful me take over, I almost instantly feel better despite how shitty things are at the moment. In those instance, I remind myself how blessed I am to have such epiphanies, horrid as they may seem, where I can learn a lesson or two. And they are also opportunities for me to correct my erroneous views of the world, among others that would otherwise be hidden from me while I’m blinded with rage.

Prayer

I’ve had all sorts of prayers while going through that tough time with difficult people: early morning prayers during my commute, scribbled short agonizing prayers that when combined becomes as thick as a normal book; bathroom cubicle prayers when I felt I can no longer make it through the day alive; on my commute back home and before I lie in bed to close my eyes and call it a hell of a day. If not for God who heard my many many many supplications, I wouldn’t have made it in one piece.

Stop reacting to every stimulus

To avoid picking scabs I figured I needed to stop talking about it with my former office mate. So God help me. If it becomes a scar so be it, it’s going to be that anyway and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. At least it’s going to heal.

Loving a Lady Writer/Blogger


photo from burckhardsource.org
  There are those who write just to sell
In their necks attached a choking bell
Demands acknowledgement wherever they be
Attention whores you can readily see
 
At face value they can fool a lot
Surface fun but depth has not
Truly it makes a fast food story
But ‘tis fleeting, cheap, full of vainglory
 
But seeing eyes one cannot fool
Wont ever get past through a hardened soul
Tested by fire from hell she emerged
Can tell the lies and the stink that lurks
 
Then there are that get stripped and naked
Of the lies the soul had long been burdened
The solid self once thought it was
Now lay in pieces and ripped apart
 
Battle hardened, a war vet, and territorial
Died and lived, reduced to essentials
Her scars she no longer hides
Wears them like armor such a lovely bride
 
As such you see a woman and not her face
Just her soul, heart, her core, and base
Only when you love her without the need for the tangible
There lies true love so few are able

Masa, who?


Hindi ka pangmasa.

If your target audience is the general populace, this is the last thing you’d want to hear.

I’d like to reach a larger audience other than my immediate circle. Especially the “marginalized” who follow anybody just because they have no other choice. I wish to connect with them, the group who I have similar preferences with:

  • The minimalist,
  • The quiet,
  • The contemplative,
  • The one who believes in the convergence of quantum physics and mysticism,
  • The people who knows the abundance in having less, and
  • The lucky ones who know the bliss of possessing a still mind.

I wish I’d find them (or they find me via this version of art) to let them know that one of their ilk shares similar experiences that they can truly identify with and call their own.

Haven’t thought it’d be this tough after hearing the verdict (which is the opening sentence) from a friend. I thank God for her brutal honesty nonetheless. At least now I know, or shall I say, at least someone else told it straight to my face.

Someone else pointing out my weaknesses is not something I am fond of, nor will I ever get used to like. But you have to be grateful that what you needed to hear but don’t want spelled out to you, will come from someone whom you will not take offense. I can’t thank heavens enough for those people.

And I wouldn’t have cared less if the “masa” cannot process my message to be honest, if not for those who need to hear that somebody else understands and that they too, every one in fact, are in need of a creative outlet. Yes, there is untold exigency for people to immediately discover and follow his craft before he uses up all his life credits for nothing.

Why? Because getting to know one’s calling is his only salvation.

Anong paki mo sa Kirk Hammett hair ko


As we mature, we learn that the world doesn’t really give a fuck on how we conduct ourselves contrary to what we believe. In those harum-scarum years we desperately yearned and painstakingly did our homework to blend with what’s in so as not to be left behind. Yes we did, even if it is in complete violation of our personal values.

And instead of ourselves creatively defining our own “presentation”, we willfully succumbed to the convoluted image of us as an aftermath of allowing the world to desecrate us.

On the other hand, we learn that the world does give a shit after all. It coaxes and nags persistently until we give in to its insane and unrealistic demands on us. It is indeed fortunate for those who realize that those who mind don’t matter in as much as those that matter don’t mind at all.

I see this everyday as I walk nonchalantly with my untied Kirk Hammett hair. I can read through the minds of those who stare. While one percent expresses disapproving cues, 90 percent of the remaining 99% is frustrated with themselves for not having the audacity to express themselves as loud as I do with my rock and roll get up.

Having a healthy way of self-expression by the way, is essential to one’s mental health. And in my case, it includes growing a long hair and not giving a fuck.

My Social Experiment Regarding Perception


It’s fascinating to see the results of my simple, self-conducted social experiment that measures how people react to what I have written. I seldom have small talks with my fellows so I thought it was such a good idea if I will share them what I have written instead in order to break the ice. At least, I have their undivided attention while they are reading. But instead of an open mind, I think their defenses are immediately switched to red alert, ready to feed the hungry waste can with whatever I gave them.

It’s fascinating and at times downright frustrating because their reactions are completely opposite of my expectations.

Case in point is when I asked some of my officemates to read an entry that I have written in my past defunct blog. I believe I’ve written it with wit and funny sarcasm enough to elicit a smirk or a hearty laughter from them.

Just that, a piece designed and aimed to make someone laugh. That’s all. Go see the previous post and be the judge.

When I asked the first respondent to read the blog entry, his reaction was an awesome “witty jabs you got there.” He was my officemate before in a previous company and we were able to share discussions about politics, and other stuff that are “deep” in nature.

The next one, a former officemate of more than 6 years, after reading said in a jolly “it’s ok” tone and recounted his own tale of experiencing (though indirectly) harassment from the reds. Great, I said to myself. I reminded him of his own related experiences.

The third respondent is a lady who was a fellow employee in my previous employment. Our work relationship is collegial in nature but with the prominence of a junior and senior ambience. What she told me is that the post I asked her to read is very long. Owwwkey, I told myself wondering whether I got my message across. Later on I asked if she had a hard time telling whether what she was reading was legitimate and whether I was dead serious. She said yes.

The fourth and final respondent was also an officemate in my previous employment. I was already a senior back then and he was entry level so our encounters before were limited to pleasantries and lot of student-mentor instances where we conferred regarding technical stuff. We retained the friendship despite that we separated companies eventually and saw each other again after a year or so. What did you just send me sir? He asked in an apparently innocent and respectful manner. Why, it’s supposed to be funny. What do you think of it? I followed up. It looks a bit legit with traces of sarcasm, he said. Did you really think it’s legitimate? And do you think it’s highly unlikely of my personality to write such things? I pressed on. Well, kind of? Came the reply.

Hmmmmm…

I may never have gotten the response I expected of them but I learned, relearned rather, basic truths on social interactions:

  1. Your personality will always be associated with every interaction you have with people be it a quick conversation or something written like what I did in my social experiment.
  2. Even if you tell the funniest jokes but if you’re not the funny guy, the joke will be on you. Put that in contrast with comedians who can tell the lamest of jokes and the audience will still roll on the floor laughing. Perhaps it is because of social conditioning. Initially, what I say will always be taken seriously and will remain as such even after I crack a joke or two.
  3. People’s response to any stimuli will depend on their previous experiences. And in reality, it is seldom that their response is influenced by the stimuli outside of themselves. So without enough experience on a certain stimulus, people will most likely reward you with blank and confused faces.
  4. Or, it may mean I still have a long way to go to be the charismatic gentleman that I wanted to be. Perhaps a few more fine tuning is required to attain the perfect social calibration that will enable me to approach more and help more in the process.
  5. Give. But in doing so, restrain yourself from expecting that something favorable in exchange will return to you. Just like what Buddha said, attachment is the source of our misery and suffering. It’s not giving freely if you’re expecting something in return. In that case you’re playing yoyo.
  6. Keep on interacting and giving even if your original good intention is mistaken for something else. Pause and consider if you must but you have to keep on slugging it out until you find your rhythm and the mastery of conducting yourself in front of others.

At times it will look like you have thrown tons of efforts that just got sucked up in a blackhole. Despair not. No effort is lost in the universe (remember the first law of thermodynamics, also known as the Law of Conservation of Energy which states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed; energy can only be transferred or changed from one form to another,) provided it is done out of good will e.g. you have good motives. What goes around comes around, so you better be throwing good stuff around if you are expecting the same good stuff to come back and knock you out.

Classified Ads*


(*This post from my previous, now defunct blog is already two years old. This is also the piece I used for my social experiment on the succeeding post.)

Seen in the classified ads section of a local broadsheet:

Looking for work? Be jobless no more!

Come and Join Any of the MAUTE GROUP OF COMPANIES:
* Abu Sayyaf Group Inc. (Terrorism at Its Best!)
* BIFF Holdings Inc. (Atrocity? Terrorism? ♪We Got Them All for You♫)
* CPP-NPA-NDF and Partners (Guaranteed to Make War When There’s Peace)
* MNLF Banking Corp. (Financing Your Way to Worldwide Terror)
* MILF Inc. (The Maker of Quality Bombs)

A Proud Member of the ISIS International, Jemaah Islamiyah Global, and Al Qaeda World and funded by first world countries.

Benefits Include:
1.       Lifetime permanent employment status (♪you can check out anytime you like ♫ but you can never leave♫)
2.       Embedded wellness package: Lifetime hike in the woods
3.       Good compensation with monthly supply of ammos
4.       Instant worldwide fame: in the terrorist galleries of the Interpol, FBI, and NBI
5.       Gives worth to its employees by making them fully entitled to bounties reaching up to millions of dollars depending on the number of years “experience”
6.       Ideal for adrenaline junkies who are neither too bored to live a peaceful and meaningful life nor too lazy to kill themselves

Other benefits include:
·         Physical training by world class trainers fresh from Syria, Malaysia, and Indonesia
·         Free course in Extremism 1 to Extremism 5
·         Free technical/vocational course in bomb making. No laboratory fees!
 


For inquiries, please contact the following:


Isnilon “Toto/Toni” Totoni Hapilon or the Maute Big Brothers
Address: Sometimes Here St., Brgy. Sometimes There, Oftentimes Nowhere Province, Mindanao, Philippines
 
And/or
 
JOMA “Gwaping” SISON
Address: The Netherlands

Inaantok pa ako


Gusto ko pang humilata
Pero alas quatro na pala
Ke aga aga pero tanghali na
Alam mo naman sa Edsa
Pag-alis ng alas sinco
Dating alas otso
Ang alas sais
Magiging alas dyes
Ganun ata ang Pilipino itinadhana
Itinadhana sa sumpa
Kaya gustuhin ko mang matulong
Dahil katawan parin ay lamog
Babangon na't para di malingat
Baka sakaling sa bus makaidlip ng sapat

Kumplikado


Matatapos na ang magdamag
Antok ay di parin mahagilap
Di ka man lang nawaglit sa utak
 Nangawit sa pagmukmok
Kama ko nalukot, nagusot 
Ngunit mukha mo'y di parin nalimot 
 Ala una y media na
Gusto ko sanang tawagan ka
Baka sakaling gising ka pa 
At wala ka ring magawa
 Boses mong tumatak sa isip
Malambing na bulong ng langit 
Mga ngiti mong aking hinahanap
Sana sa panaginip aking maaninag
 Puputok na ang araw 
Ang dilim unti-unti nang natutunaw 
Mga nararamdaman wala paring linaw
 Ako ngayon ay paos na 
Noong may boses ay di ko nagawa 
Paano ko pa kaya masasabi pa 
 Alas dose impunto na
Pananghalian ang iyong alaala
Hahapunin ba at gagabihin nanaman
Kahapon ba ay di pinagsawaan
 Boses mong tumatak na sa isip
Malambing na bulong ng langit 
Mga ngiti mong aking hinahanap
Sana sa ulap muling maaninag

photo from weheartit.com

Sana – matuto akong magsulat ng kanta


I always wanted to write/compose lyrics for a meaningful (read: kick-ass) rock music. Ok, if it aint rock, an OPM piece that will capture the emotion of the masses.

I am not much into the current OPM but I know it when I find a unique piece that pierces right through the cognitive boundary on to the seat of the emotion such as Sana by I Belong to the Zoo or Argee Guerrero in real life.

I hope I will be able to write my own heart-rending piece. Again, I must stop thinking and start writing instead. But here’s a good piece of inspiration to start with. By the way, I just discovered something: I don’t have a personal experience that parallels with this song. And yet something in me vibrated in complete resonance. I did not even think it’s possible, but it is.

Here goes nothing…


I haven’t done this in a long time now so instead of taking a day or two of polishing whatever I have written, I will just write instead without any regard to grammar or coherence. Let’s just fuck order in the mean time, shall we?

xxx

“You can’t be a car salesman” my design manager told me before. I never retorted in anger nor did I explain otherwise. We both knew he was right so I can’t help but agree. I can’t stand the BS that comes with trying to sell something (not saying that being a salesman is BS at its finest). I will approach a department store or a hardware if I am fully convinced myself that I need something. I won’t bother another soul into buying something because I don’t want it being done to me. A yes is supposed to be yes and a no is a no and no bullshit in between. I will buy anything i need and i don’t want anyone talking to me about it.

A former office-mate asked if she can schedule some time with me to let her talk about the insurance she is offering. Sorry I cant give up my lunch break, it’s my only time to rest I told her. That must’ve came off as very rude of me but I also don’t want to waste my time, and hers eventually, by saying yes and cursing at the back of my head while listening. Of course i wont shell out my precious treasury with any insurance. It is reserved for the family. So please, we can talk but please don’t waste my time selling me something I know I don’t need at the moment.

xxx

While writing relieves the pressure off of me much like releasing a valve in a pressure cooker, nothing else can unlock me the way music does. Specifically loud rock and roll music.

I used to go around saying music or playing music is now limited to playing the mp3 player or the stereo at home. My guitar is already retired after being broken for quite some time. My son’s ukulele just lost a tuning peg and I don’t have the resources to replace it anytime soon. Although i wish i can.

In as much as I don’t have the resources to buy another instrument, I have to be content with, well, nothing except for the stereo as I mentioned. And I am content with that.

Be that as it may, I cant deny that there is this loneliness that persistently tugs my suit asking me to pay attention. Yes I’m happy and contented with being quiet and the occasional high that comes from connecting with someone. Add to that the semi regular writing and scribbling to clear my mind and to understand myself better. But nothing can fill the gap left by not being able to play music.

I want to change that but I am at a loss on when and how to start. Aside from having no musical instrument, I don’t have potential band-mates. Yes, I want to play out loud in front of many people. I still haven’t forgotten how I’d want to be a vocalist or a lead guitarist and just play my heart out and get lost myself into music. I don’t know how will I be able to fulfill that fantasy. But that predicament and consequent loneliness already reached a point where I know I have to do something before the bottled up pressure within me implodes. I have to make a move, to do something to make it a reality instead of just a deep nagging feeling. It’s persistence is unbelievable that it is now pushing me off a cliff. Do something or die, I can hear it’s bellowing whispers.

xxx

Building connections is hard if not seemingly impossible for me at this point in time. I am not sure why all of a sudden I am in a hurry to make friends with everyone here in my new office when historically I wasn’t the type of person to be as such. Perhaps because I want to start something new and good the right way. And since i am the new guy in here, I have to let them know that I can get along everyone and anyone.

That, and another reason.

I have a crush on this beautiful pregnant lady. What attracted me most to her though is her apparent strong personality. A lady with a strong personality can be discerned from the way she carries herself. I can smell it as I have a penchant for iron ladies. So I told myself, instead of having this huge crush getting bottled up inside me dangerously, I’d just find a way to talk to her to diffuse the built-up pressure of attraction. Something like letting off steam and hopefully to get things over with.

So I messaged her asking if she’s into reading because I want to showcase to her that I write, and I wrote something which I hoped would get us connected. Something I hoped can possibly vibrate her strings and get us in resonance. That somewhere we can connect.

It took her more than a couple of days to respond. At first I thought she got offended or something so that worried me a lot. But then she responded thank goodness. I am not sure though if it’s obligatory in nature that she responded just to maybe “cut it short” but she did. She said she is more of a visual person. Ok, I told myself. I got a response from her, I did but it looked like I did get the response I wanted to receive. I gave her something, a part of me. I don’t know what she received.

I thought I could connect to her, build a connection even. But I guess it’s one of those failed expectations. What can I expect anyway. She may be halfway through her pregnancy for all I know. Like myself she have a lot to worry about and what I shared her isn’t even enough to scratch her curiosity and take a look.

Well what I can say more? I threw something at a black hole. Not entirely lost though I’m sure of that. Energy is neither destroyed nor created so says thermodynamics. It got sucked into a black hole alright. But what seems lost in this dimension might have found it’s way into another dimension. May not be in this reality Heidi. Maybe on some other universe. In there I had your full attention. In there I am laughing at your strength. Not making fun of you but amusedly viewing how good you look in your strength…

xxx

I don’t give a shit before if I am an unknown blogger or if anyone else knows I write at all. It worked for me. It worked wonders. I’ve written somewhere else and when people discovered me without my help, the admiration gets more authentic and more satisfying than when you ram it down people’s throats.

But now things are different. Not that I wanted to boast, I don’t think I even earned anything at all that’s worth boasting except for my family and the peace and calm that I experience every now and then. But denying something very important to you such as writing for me is already an obsolete way of life. In denying that I am a writer, I deny a large portion of my identity. I am a writer. That doesn’t mean every letter I write is worth something of monetary value. Far more than than. I write because my everyday survival for art depends on it. Writing and my soul are one.

Faith Healing – Healing Faith


Go. Your faith has made you whole.”

Mentioned a lot of times in the Bible

From the woman who had been bleeding for years, the 10 afflicted with leprosy, the blind old man since birth, the centurion who pleaded for his soldier, to a whole lot more. What do they have in common aside from having their prayers answered?

They backed their supplications with faith. Not only did they ask and hope for the things they wanted to have/achieve, but they believed that Whoever (God, Universe…) they were invoking at is capable of granting them what they want.

I’d like to point out the case of the woman who had been bleeding for years. She had gone to physicians whom she hoped can heal her but to no avail. Perhaps out of desperation, she told herself that if only she can touch the hem of the garment of Jesus Christ, she will be healed. In which she did, and the rest is history. It wasn’t mentioned in the scriptures what her other circumstances were but I’d like to point out how she achieved healing which she had been hoping for so long, even before she had the chance to speak to Jesus. It was as if her wish was granted just because she believed. In believing, she was able to draw the power of God and have her healed.

In case you think you can treat God as a lucky charm and go around saying you believe in order to get anything you want, then you’re in for a disappointment. God has a way of looking into the heart, into the motives behind. Which makes nature hard wired, fool and idiot proof. So no, we can’t fool God, nor mother nature, and not even electrons. Remember the double slit method that still puzzles physicists today? Yep, strange stuff it is. It defies our expectations which makes the full comprehension and predictability of which remote – at least for now.

It’s a two way street. We can ask but we must believe that we will have them. And that we should work for it to let God know that we REALLY want it. Seldom does God blesses man’s half-assed efforts. But He blesses the man who is resolutely pursuing his dreams with all the efforts he can muster.

If you’re not into God and you believe in the law of attraction or the muse or even quantum physics and mysticism, the process isn’t pretty much different. Believe in it, work for it, achieve it. Do you not recognize the resemblance?

We ask and believe, then God acts.

The first step to healing and having therefore is believing.

I Love You Heidi (The Beautiful Pregnant Lady)


from colourbox.com

You’re too good not to look at Heidi. 

Despite that I wanted to take you all in of my sight, I can’t. As much as I wanted to, I wouldn’t. 

There’s something in your eyes that captures me every time I look at you. It makes my heart skip a beat. It did, it still does and its persistence kills me bit by bit. 

This is too strong for me to not give a fuck but not too strong to push me to do something. I won’t.  

You’re beautiful and that’s all. Yeah, I keep fooling myself by telling myself that over and over again.

I hope you won’t take offense if I opt to not look at you. Not yet. Maybe later when I can finally look at you dearly without any attachments. It’s not today though. Maybe tomorrow. I wish it were tomorrow. 

Just not today. 

Because if I do, I might fall deeper and deeper in love with you. With whatever shape you’re in. 

Let there be light – and there were boobs


from presslist.info

I was bound for home on a Friday the 13th. It was already early evening and the lights are out so it’s dark at the back of the UV express where I sat. 

Across myself was a lady. While darkness blurs my vision of her, I noticed she was carrying her bag on her lap which left only her face to be scrutinized and admired. I can still figure out her mysterious eyes and the shape of her face despite the darkness. ‘Not bad’ I told myself. 

I sat there for about an hour during the commute not really paying attention at her except for occasional glances. Besides, I’m busy watching the fighting scenes of John Wick 3 on my phone. 

Near the end of our trip, the light at the back of the van suddenly became alive thus illuminating everything. 

What I saw deserved a jaw drop. 

I saw her face. Indeed she has a prettier than normal face. But more than that, I saw her big bumpers struggling to get out of her breast had it not been for her tightfitting shirt which further accentuated her lovely lumps. 

To hell with John Wick. The main attraction became an excuse for me to cast frequent glances at her ‘glory.’ ‘Twas just disappointing that the mouthwatering show lasted only a little less than 2 minutes as she unboarded the fx. 

If only the damn lights turned on a lot earlier! 

Misery


miss misery

I was finding ways to escape my loneliness and emptiness. I thought I already escaped all doubts and uncertainties which should eliminate misery once and for all, first when I got transferred to another department in my previous company, and eventually landing a job in a new company. But that wasn’t the case.

Misery had been pounding the door hard. I thought she’d be gone when I change environment. It seemed so at first. Although it may be that I was just too busy shaking misery off that I didn’t hear her for quite some time.

But there she was. With her sustained vigor she keeps on pounding the door with the full regalia of a demolition team. With her persistence, she’s reminding me that she’s not going anywhere, anytime soon.

Like I did before, she wants me to fuck her hard once more. She’s so addicted to me that she wants me to ravage her yet again ‘till she passes out.

Scarce Tissue


scarce tissue

In my previous company, tissue was virtually unlimited. If you’re out of which, you can just ask utility to hand you a new pack.

Now in a new company, tissues are still free albeit with corresponding restrictions: the tissue is now issued per department instead of per person. If you’re a commoner and you’re out of tissue, it’s a too inconvenient to resupply the gang since only a selected few have direct access with whoever is supplying them. And it’d be more convenient to use paper than to walk 10 paces to get 1 sheet (it’s a department supply not individual, remember?)

Just like the Israelites after being out of Egypt for quite some time, I sure did grumble to some extent. But you see, these, among others are byproducts of changes that I’ve dreaded long before I left my previous company.  It hit me hard, it still does years later but her persistence didn’t dwindle a bit.

Adopt or die.

So instead of attaching labels that fuel discontentment, I decided I’d opt for less experience, less wanting, therefore less evil.

Scarce tissue? Because of that scarcity I’ve learned to reduce the mess that require some tissues to clean. Not only me, this taught us as a department a lot about conservation.

Despite that there’s a lone pack of tissue for 30 people, amazingly it lasts a lot longer than expected. Maybe we’re too timid to consume it the way you’d devour popcorn. Despite that we’re like dirt poor, the lesson you get in return, however, is priceless.

Less mess. You become more deliberate with orderliness and cleanliness so as not to deplete your limited resources.

You appreciate something more when you know it’s not limited. It teaches you to use them sparingly and wisely.

You treat it with respect.

Balance


goddess of balance

Do you know why you are feeling miserable and lost? Because you are holding on to an outdated, fucked up definition of things. Labels and expectations are everything but stays true to your own set of definitions forever, in case you still haven’t figured it out.

While you can’t change the world for it to strictly adhere to your own rules, you can however change the way you look at the world. A new perspective for an ever evolving world or a defensive mechanism if you will.

It’s time to define things again. The good news is that you don’t have to kill yourself to conform with worldly definitions. You just need to be more understanding and more aggressive in finding your balance once more.

As you have seen, old definitions don’t work anymore.

The goddess of balance already shifted.

She is bored of staying in bed. Her back and pussy is already swollen lying in bed and getting fucked relentlessly.

Now she’s out of the bedroom. No more fucking just yet. She wants to play hide and seek. Go find her. And when you do, well, you’ll know what to do…

Agas ti Masakit a Lakay


"I'm afraid it's a bad case of 'man flu', he'll need a 24 hour sports channel, beer and pizza!"

(Reliving old stories with fellow campus paper writer chums.)

Adda maysa a lakay nga masakit ken agkakapsut. Iti abay ti katre a pagid-iddaan na ket isu met ti ayan ti bantay na.

“Anyat kayat mu,” intuud diay kadwa ti masakit, “linugaw?”

“Haaaaaannnn” agkakapuy nga kuna tay masakit.

“Tinola?”

“Haaaaaannnn…”

“Prutas”

“Haaaaaannnn…”

Ta ukin inana daytoyen awan man la ti napatangakun, kuna tay agbanbantay iti un-uneg na. “Ket anya ngad kayat mo, UKI?!” kinuna na nga makasurun.

Tarin bangunen tay sii-idda nga masakit sa dimmadakkel ti matmata na nga nangdamag —

“ADDA KADEEEEEYYYYY?!!!”

It’s Not You, It’s – Your Thoughts


The thoughts change but not you.

Let go the passing thoughts and hold on to the unchanging self.”

Sri Ramana Maharshi, Talk 524

 

Powerful words.

How have I ever forgotten the very essence of this blog?! The thoughts responsible for the birth of a smorgasbord of written accounts here in this cosmos broadcasting medium is not the whole of the story.

Despite the chaos on the outside there is one unmoved by all the ruckus.

Someone else is in control.

It is the one whom these thoughts get projected onto. The one who remains unadulterated even with all the omnifarious thoughts it conceived.

The one you can only see when your eyes are closed.

Gold Reserve


fort knox
photo from tripadvisor.com

In my previous office, we used to coin taking a dump into “banking” or “magbaba-bangko” referring to a visit to the bank to “deposit”.

One morning at work, nature called and demanded that I go “banking”. After cleaning up my mess a few minutes later, a familiar voice called me while I’m inside the elevator.

“Where were you earlier sir? You were supposed to meet the newly hired” the principal BIM modeler said as I turned to look at her.

“Sorry. I needed to go to Banconidoro.”

Artem


artem
Credit goes to the rightful owner of the artem and photo

It had been almost two decades since I made my own artem, Iloko term for a dipping concoction of chili pepper, vinegar and garlic. An Ilocano dish including the simplest fried fish and whatnot isn’t complete without the distinctive sting brought about by this macho condiment.

It’s relatively easy to make your own artem. And it costs cheap provided that chili peppers don’t cost a fortune. Its ingredients include:

  1. Vinegar. Beware of vinegars with synthetic acetic acid. Aside from that any vinegar you’ld want to use is just as good.
  2. Crushed garlic
  3. Red hot chili peppers. Small green ones are just as good. My preference is the “sili t’ sairo” or the commonly called “siling labuyo.” They’re small but they are packed with a lot of punch so don’t be fooled by their size
  4. Salt. Always opt for rock salt. Always.

After gathering all the required ingredients, all you have to do is:

  • Put the garlic first inside an empty bottle. Use glass and never use plastic bottles
  • Put the chili peppers inside. Chopped or not, it’s up to you
  • Pour the vinegar and add salt. It should be saltier than the usual. Aside from vinegar, salt acts like a natural preservative.

For best results, use after a week so that the chili peppers get totally blended with the vinegar.

There you go. Enjoy the delicious sting and the meal.

Manganen!

Dumbleman**


dumbleman2
Damas y caballeros: Dumbleman

Aside from chocolate balls drowned in white cream, inside every Kinder Joy also comes along a variety of toys. One toy in particular I named Dumbleman while trying to suppress a guffaw.

One afternoon, my eldest throws Dumbleman in the air in front of his mother while shouting its name.

“What?! What do you call your toy?”

Dumbleman” I answered in behalf of the kid. “It’s a relative of Nengnengman.”

And we both laughed after that. Now, the mere presence of the toy and the instance that me and my wife’s stares meet becomes a quick comic relief.

 

 

 

** If the meaning of Dumbleman and Nengnengman is obscure to you, ask a true-blue Ilocano.

Behind an Angry Woman is a Clueless Man*


One night, me and wife arrived late and our kids were already tucked in bed. After getting ready to bed ahead of my wife, I already lied down in a way opposite to those of my sons where I get to see their feet. Wife, upon getting inside the kulambo (mosquito net) told me to “correct” my sleeping position.

Too tired to move I told her “no let’s stay this way.”

This made her mad and she started accusing me of asserting my authority and dominance instead of simply following the “order”. I was confused and dumbfounded by her outburst. I thought maybe, she’s either pranking me or she’s just not making any sense at all. It’d be very remote to be the latter so I decided that it must be the former.

And so I told her I’m not being authoritarian by just letting my whims dictate what I want done. “Can’t it be that it’s just a plain choice of how am I going to sleep?”

I sensed she’s dead serious (read: angry) which tickled my senses all the more while I’m still confused by her reaction. I followed up with a question: what did I just say that made you that pissed? Do tell me, for truly behind an angry woman is a clueless man.

I laughed viciously and while at it wife unleashed her beast mode by letting her nails sink in my skin while pounding me with her fist. It’s one of those rare moments that I won an argument with her and it’s insanely delicious seeing her reaction.

Thankfully she finally came to her senses. I’m still confused, however. What on earth did I just say that made her THAT pissed? Whatever the reasons though, whenever the memory of which pops up it’s still funny as hell.

 

 

* Saw this text in a meme in Facebook. Credit goes to the source, whatever page that is.

Einstein’s Nightmare – The Secrets of Quantum Physics by Dr. Jim Al-Khalili


I’ve already read hordes upon hordes of literature regarding quantum theory for beginners but this is hands down the most comprehensive introductory video I’ve ever seen so far!

Hats off to Dr. Jim Al-Khalili for this video. His walkthrough from the humble beginnings starting from the light bulb, up to the epic battle of the minds of Niels Bohr and Albert Einstein and its bizarre conclusion is a solid foundation for quantum theory junkies like myself.

Turns out, we cant screw mother nature or if you believe in God then it’s God. And the thought that reality that we know might not be real at all is mind boggling.

Enough words, go devour the video.

Blinded by Third Eye Blind


Di ko naman to in-associate sa kahit kaninong babae ng nakaraan o kasalukuyan pero ewan ko bakit napaka-poignant nito para sakin and it hits me home.

It brings out a hell lot of emotions.

Punung-puno ito ng angst kaya kapag naririnig at kinakanta ko ito e para akong bumabalik ng kabataan ko. Pakiramdam ko kapag naririnig ko ito e parang may pag-asa parin akong maging rock star. Na sana e makanta ko ito kasama ng isang banda.

Today Is The Day I Decided I’m Done


Today I decided I’m done here in my current work place that I’m going to leave for somewhere better. Somewhere not necessarily easier but a place where I can work in peace and not threatened by politics and where I can focus on improving my skillset.

Today I decided I’m done waking up in the morning dreading the grueling day ahead.

Today I decided I’m done worrying about Mondays while at home during the weekends.

Today I decided I’m done with the wrong reasons of leaving. Now I don’t anymore harbor resentment to people here in the office specifically the higher ups that run the department.

Today I decided I’m done done stressing myself out too much of work that poses danger to my health and my quality time with myself and my family. While it contributes to my learning, it also contributes to things that have the potential to harm me in the long run.

Today I decided I’m done proving myself to people who don’t have any concern on my well being. I’m done being treated as a mere object to accomplish the goals of the team.

Today I decided I’m done living a shitty working life. I am not afraid of hard work provided I’m in an environment that fosters my health and growth.

Today I decided I’m done worrying about people who will label me as weak for not standing my ground through these onslaughts. I value myself more that anyone else’s opinion.

Today I decided I’m done. That’s why I am now taking action. And when God blesses my efforts and approves of my plan, nothing and no one can stop me from claiming what will make me a better man.

Drug War (Ang Kwentong Ayaw Pakinggan)


drug war
photo taken from philcrime.wordpress.com

Nakatakda ang aming operasyon

Isang maulan na dapit hapon

Langit ay lubos ang pagtangis

Puno ng dalamhati at paghihinagpis

 

Sukbit ko ang aking quarenta y sinco

Kasama ang granada, mga bala at radyo

Handa at naga-abang ang aking hintuturo

Sa gatilyo ng M14 na tangan tangan ko

 

“Isang raid ang isasagawa natin

Sa isang bayan dito sa San Fermin

Pinamugaran ng mga adik at halang ang bituka,

At doon ang droga walang pakundangang binebenta

 

Mapanganib ang ating kakaharapin

Subalit kailangang tupdin ang sinumpaang tungkulin

Mga kabataan ay dapat sagipin

Sa salot na droga sila’y marapat na palayain

 

Bago tayo humayo tayo munang manalangin:

Dios Ama kami po ay iyong dinggin

Sa pagtupad ng aming mandato kami po ay patnubayan

At ilayo sa panganib at tiyak na kamatayan.”

 

Siyang panalangin na inusal ng aming commander

Habang ihinahanda ang bullet proof vest at arrest order

At kami na’y tumulak upang isakatuparan ang misyon

Ang pagdakip sa mga pusher at mga taong lulong

 

Patintero kay kamatayan, sa hukay lubog ang tuhod

Sa target area habang maingat naming sinusuyod

“Pulis to, walang gagalaw ng masama!” ang aming bulyaw

Upang mangibabaw sa mga putok at alingawngaw.

 

Dura lex, sed lex: isang babala

Kailangan umiral ang katwiran at hustisya

Nang pangarap ng kabataan di na malibing sa hukay

Masaganang kinabukasan at magandang buhay

 

Habang ako’y humihinga ay di ko lulubayan

Pagpuksa sa drogang salot ng lipunan

Sa ngalan ng katarungan sampu ng aking mga kasamahan

Patuloy na susuungin ang digmaang nasimulan.

 

Para sa kinabukasan ng mga anak ko

Di kayo makakawala mga putang ina nyo!

Kung sa kulungan di kayo mangagsibulok

Manlaban at bala ko ang yong masisinghot!

Money for Nothing


One of the most wicked riffs that rocks the old and the young alike.

This version is the unedited version of this song. I like more what’s expressed in the original version. Raw, wicked, crass it may seem, unadulterated from society’s demands to please everyone and to tread softly.

If you’re offended that the lyrics is explicit, then I’m not going to apologize. I’d just advise you to close this page and move on.

But if you’re one rock junkie like me, This will get you headbanging in no time. Enjoy.

“What’s Up?”


This just doesn’t get old. I love how the lyrics still bring back memories from my childhood when I just can’t help but feel good no matter how shitty the situation I am currently in.

What’s unsurprising is that it still rings a bell despite my being a decade older than when the singer/songwriter sang/wrote it.

That’s still me asking “what’s (fuckin’) going on?!” and that still the old me chanting the emotionally drugged incantation “hey yeah yeaaaaaahhh”.

What’s going on? I don’t give a damn so long as anyone hands me a fucking beer!!

What’s up? Mine still is, still no problem with that 😀

Klibids


Silicon Valley
from jantoo.com

Born and raised in a valley 

Grew up loving that alley; 

And when one I see 

There should my face dug be. 

Peeping just enough to say hi 

Can’t take my eyes off as they say bye; 

There my tongue shall fondle 

Won’t stop ‘til they wobble. 

Twin peaks soaked in the rain 

Bitesize tenders not soaked in vain; 

And then I will go south 

To ravage that wet mouth…

Source of Hope


What keeps me going these tough days?

  1. God who gives me strength on an daily basis, for without whom I wouldn’t have had the strength to bear the drudgery of being with the people in the office;
  2. The thought that I have a choice to leave my miseries (circumstances and people) behind in search of a better working place;

Vacation Leaves


Before my previous department went downhill, I didn’t file a lot of vacation leaves. It’s not because i don’t have the benefits of which but rather, I didn’t feel the need to. Except of course for several important family matters. But to keep myself sane from tons and tons of work, I felt I can manage without resorting to paid leaves.

More often than not, I didn’t want to take a day off because I don’t want to miss a day in my job because I loved what I was doing despite the stress (which is I would say is but a normal and healthy dose of stress because I don’t have to worry about not having the backing of the whole team, including my expat boss.) I want to always be a part of the team effort that we put into projects to make them something we’re going to be proud of. Looking forward with nostalgia to the days that we used the word ‘we’ with surging pride.

But now that I got transferred to a new department, it’s a completely different story.

I started treasuring days that I’m not at work. I started looking forward to them that I now bothered looking at the calendar and schedule leaves a day before or after legal holidays.

What I thought before as idle hours that would bore the hell out of me, became a balm, a much needed respite to keep my sanity intact. They kept me recharged enough for me to keep looking forward to another working day with the ball and chain, with the people that drain every ounce of enthusiasm I have whenever I’m with them, bosses and teammates alike.

A long holiday is coming and I already filed a vacation leave a day before. And to be frank, as early as now I’m earnestly looking forward again to the next one.

Pray More When You’re “Happy” Than When You’re In Adversary


When going through rough times, we often ask God to stay by our sides while we feel our way in the dark, and oftentimes asking Him to lead the way. During these times that the red light is blaring, our senses are in full alert scrutinizing the slightest stimuli that pops our way, carefully stereotyping them as either friend or foe.

The same with an essential facility on red alert status because of an impending terrorist attack. The said vital installation will have a better chance of mitigating damages if not totally thwarting them.

But when you feel that all things are rainbows and sunshine, you have the illusion that all will be well all throughout, that you can’t go wrong, and that your chances of stumbling is likened to the chances of a cobbler decoding how light particle transitions to wave and vice versa. Especially when we’re blinded by pride the way that a coin blocks our entire view of the star-studded night sky.

It’s in these instances that we should heed cautiously, occasionally stopping dead in our tracks to consider things carefully. It’s in these circumstances that we should fervently pray for God’s guidance. For enlightenment.

And to pray for deliverance – from ourselves. From our shortsightedness.

Boss vs Leader Conundrum, Finding the Right Fit For An Employee & My Frustrations In The Office Which is Why I Shared It Here


I can’t think of a better title so let’s live with it, shall we?

After all the message is the main event. The words are so poignant that it encapsulated something I’ve been drooling at for a long time after I got transferred to another team. This is because I got to experience working with “leaders” these past 6 years.

But now things became a nightmare. I’d say the cringing dwindled over time but the damage is done and I have a hard time just brushing it off like nothing happened.

Oh well, I think I’d just wait and hope for the sunrise. For now, a little light is enough.

This one, I cropped from my LinkedIn account. I hope we can all learn from this.

boss vs leader

My Reality Here And Now


This, now officially marks the end of making excuses, of being distracted by the “pompous” and “sadistic” behavior of both colleagues and bosses that results in my impediment to do my best.

This, now marks the recognition on the competition of domination between your current and improved self, and that this competition does not involve anyone or anything outside of yourself.

This, now marks God’s response to the thought that once perplexed me and left me longing to go back to my previous team. Right here is God’s definite answer: bloom where you’re planted because there is no way you can turn back now.

It’s time to give other people a chance, the way God gave me a second, third, and fourth life, day in and day out. The same way that other people gave me a chance to change and be better.

 

Today I heard the message loud and clear:

These are my current circumstances and my reality;

I don’t need to have another reality before I can live fully, I just need to be creative to make the most out of which;

These changes at work are not the consequences of what I did wrong in the past;

These changes are blessings because it means I now have time to upgrade and be better. Make no mistake about it;

This is my bread and butter that I must protect because this is not something easily replaceable given my current circumstances. I am responsible enough to include my family in my decisions regarding work;

This is another level I need to transcend to grow up and be better equipped as a professional.

 

Your action plan now becomes –

Own your actions.

Own your circumstances.

Own your mistakes.

Own your right to get back up to do it again, but this time correctly and better than anyone expected.

Own yourself for who you are and the value that you can contribute the team.

Where you are is your home. Wherever that is, leave an indelible proof of your exemplary performance.

IT Girl


computer girl.jpg
socialgirlworld.com

An enigma I’d wish to decode

Your algorithm intricate as your soul

Sends me rummaging for meaning in the depth of the oceans

That look in your eyes of convoluted circuitry

An exotic intelligence yet untapped and unfathomed

A digital fortress I set to decipher

If it takes ages I will never bother

And the fabric that keeps you in bondage

Hades I’d damn to unravel

Strip Tease


kris tiffany janson

Like a rabid dog I can’t help drooling at a local commercial of Myra 300E specifically the scene where the shoulder bag of the model slid down her shoulders and her lady companion remarked:

Ang kinis” (so smooth)

And to which the model replied

Braso pa lang yan…” (that’s just my arms)

FOR THE LIFE OF ME CAN YOU PLEASE FINISH YOUR SENTENCE???!!!

Braso pa lang yan. Pano nalang yung ano ko…” (That’s just my arms. Wait ‘til you see my…)

venom

 

(Credit goes to whoever owns these photos especially the first one!)

Ang init!!!


arid
photo from andrewforbes.com

Shit sobrang init!!!

Borrowing Kamikazee’s line, that’s what I was screaming off while in a queue in Cubao. ‘Twas an arid eve as I took off my long sleeve and used it to swat myself. Summer has begun and likewise with my efforts to write poetry. I hope both will do me justice.

 

Ang Init!!!

 

Heaven’s flood gates opened

My entire temple drenched in the ocean

Elsewhere furiously welled to the surface

Its turbulence engulfed me in an instant

The island I thought I can be

Became Atlantis succumbed to the sea

It’s Time to Quit(?)


quitting

It’s a dilemma alright for me and a lot of people. It’s not something you just sleep overnight with and figured out right in the morrow. I don’t want to come to the point of sacrificing my health for a bunch of work items that instead of getting cut, keeps on piling up.

I might have quit a long time before but I didn’t for various reasons. And to survive, what I do is detach myself from myself and be on autopilot so that I can momentarily get away from the situation and assess the tumult that I am in.

And I don’t normally share fellow writer’s post but this is too real, too on point not to share.

Memorable take away’s from the article:

1. it’s one thing to create, it’s another thing to keep on doing it

2. some things have to end, even the ones giving you 6 figures yearly (for the author’s experience that is

3. putting an end to something you’ve been doing for a while will liberate you

So here it is. His post cannot be shared but do be patient enough to click and read if it hits you all in the right places:

When You Know It’s Time to Quit Something (And Why I Decided to Kill My Conference) by Jeff Goins

Detached


(Again trying to deny my being pissed off at work by drowning it with poetry instead. Try as I did, the negativity might have leaked nonetheless.

I just happened to come across the word depersonalization. Damn, how on earth have I not known this word for more than 3 eons!)

depersonalization
from Pinterest.com

Parched lips wetted by scotch
Begets life onto my crotch
So full yet there’s not much
Her naked body out of my touch
My curse I tightly clutch
On her itch that I may scratch
A reality I can’t up a notch
My eve’s providence consumed at lunch.