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


The Piercing of Teresa

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
And eerily silent dead
I heard
Her forceful

As the steel bored deeper
I heard a
Slapping sound

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

Miranda warning for married men (as administered by wives)

  1. You don’t have any right at all but to remain silent;
  2. Anything you say will always, without fail, be used against you;
  3. You already quashed your right to have anyone to speak for you the moment we said our “I do’s”;
  4. If you cannot afford an attorney (of course you don’t!) you may call your mom. As if that’s gonna help, though! (eyerolls)
  5. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? Good. Now refer back to number 1.

I asked God for a little more rain

I asked God for a little more rain
to adorn the trees and my window pane
to alleviate the nightmare of reality
and wake up to the paradise of what should be

But to my dismay
the sun have shown its might
not a drop fell but a blinding light
so I asked Him –

for I always wanted the cold stormy sky
that in peace my mind too shall fly
and plunge in the rain clouds passing by…”

And He answered

“Sunshine or rain, it’s not for you to say
and neither the rain that you desire
to come now or another day.

I heard your prayers for serenity
brought about by the drizzle
but some pleaded for sunshine
for their dreams already fizzled.

While in the storm you learned to dance in the rain,
take advantage of the sun, for there is so much to gain…”

Watching “君の名は” again no longer made me hate my current circumstances anymore

君の名は。』を気象的見地から読み解く - ウェザーニュース

I consider it an achievement.

Finally, I was able to just have that satisfied smile on my face instead of wishing myself on Taki’s place, speaking Japanese, being Japanese, living in Japan, and in turn loathing why I am here where I currently am.


I hope I already made a breakthrough on self-studying 日本語, like finding/discovering the most effective method without getting frustrated in the end. Frustrations brought about by slow progress, not being able to read a kanji that I know I’ve already encountered for many times now and the thought of the possibility that I might never be able to go to Japan at all. It’s hard to keep yourself motivated to learn while thinking you might never use your target language at all, except for some occasional Facebook posts that hopefully would attract Japanese people that I can interact with.

All of those thoughts are very counter productive indeed.

It was a stressful experience, trying to keep your hopes high and at the same time thinking that it might never happen at all – me going to Japan and all that. Yep, I shoot my proverbial foot at times. So in order to reduce the stress, I tried to back off. I stopped reading ebooks and just got contented looking at short Facebook posts written in Japanese. When it’s hard to understand, I just look at the pics and try to guess the text through the context.

I even tried to convince myself that it is not for me, that I should just focus my efforts and thoughts on everything else where I can be productive. I want to increase my proficiency in English so learning Japanese side by side might just sabotage all that effort hence at times, I drown my desire to learn 日本語 by writing more in English or in my native tongue.

I thought it’d be that easy. In fact I wish it’d been that easy but boy I was mistaken.

Everytime I see an anime scenery, background music in piano, hiragana katakana or Kanji, the dying ember that I believed it was, is fanned to its original infernal proportions once more.

Ok, I told myself, I may not be able to escape these deeply rooted-feelings of learning the language, loving the language. I may not in an instant learn 日本語, but I can at least ‘enjoy’ the learning process.

Those who cannot be happy wherever they are, can neither find that happiness elsewhere no matter how far.

I’ve already come across this before. I even victoriously surmounted the hell of wanting things at some point. But I didn’t think I’d fall for it again.

That, is none other than the pain of wanting something. It makes you think and feel that you’re incomplete, lacking, and undone. Nothing will complete you unless you’ve had that experience – and that is speaking fluent 日本語 and going/living in Japan. It’s a plain old form of materialism except for substituting experiences instead of anything tangible such as possessions.

Ok where do I begin to heal myself? How do I phrase my affirmations?

  1. I am happy wherever I am today except that I am not in Japan which could’ve made it more awesome. (How do I counter that?!)
  2. I am happy whatever language I am proficient with at the moment except that I am still not proficient in 日本語 which could’ve made it more awesome. (Again, how do I counter that?!)
  3. I’ll just imagine wherever I am today is Japan so I can be happy. (Tough luck eh?!)

If this waiting is just a test of how much I want this, isn’t it enough that I feel the same intensity of fervor in learning the language just like the first time that I tried because I couldn’t stand not knowing how to read, write, and speak the language?

Don’t get me wrong. I love my family, my job, my home, and who I am today even if I am making a rant in this article (one of the few rants that I am immortalizing). But there are things that I wanted to achieve that is outside of my circle of reach.

Did I lie by stating the title of this article?

I didn’t. As I’ve said, I didn’t feel frustrated anymore after watching 君の名は after the nth time. The story is still good just the way it is. Nothing overdone but it is still potent in getting to the emotion of anyone who allow themselves to get vulnerable every once in a while.

I just hope I can take it slow in terms of learning my second language though, for I believe it is my first language in my past life. On where to strike a balance everyday without losing my wits in regrets, well I still have to figure that out.

君と大雨が大好き(I Love You and the Heavy Rains)

Christopher on We Heart It

Tokyo, June 2021. 1753 hours

“It’s like that mystical land in my dreams…”

Eikichi Nishioka (西岡英吉) sits glued on his seat, his memory lost in time in front of the window of their home in the suburbs of Tokyo. The PC beside him doesn’t exist to him even if it’s playing melancholic music on the background which blends perfectly with the heavy downpour outside. He barely noticed the occasional raindrops that are slammed in the window because of the slight breeze. That, and the distant, blurred lights puncturing the incoming darkness added to the mysticism.

The periodic tapping of the rain reminded him of his love of rock music and that wouldn’t budge for anything related to pop. But whenever he hears a background music of soft piano like his current respite, he is immediately spellbound that he couldn’t resist it. Sometimes he considers himself lucky for knowing such depth while the rest of the world abhors anything ankle deep. Sometimes, he considers it a curse because he keeps coming back to it despite of it rending his very being when his soul resonates with the music.

Rain is another thing. He’d been a pluviophile for, well only God knows how long. But a melancholic music plus 雨 (ame) is just something else. It’s as if a wormhole opens to the unknown depths of his feelings and soul from hither and beyond.

In those instances, the feeling of being somewhere in time is so strong that he is momentarily transported to what he believed is the parallel universe that he had been obsessing about. Sometimes, it was a pleasant visit. Most of the time however, it was a guaranteed frustration when he realize that he can’t stay there forever.

I’ve been here before. I know it. I can feel that familiar peace. A profound peace that no spring nor summer can bring about.

Others say it’s gloomy, that the sky is in deep sorrow hence the presence of torrential tears in the form of rain outside. ばかもの! (Idiots) What do they know?!

Besides, the rain’s the only friend I can trust with my secrets. At least we both found audiences in each other, a great pal who I can share the absurdity and grandness of life. Its soft tapping sound in the pavement, on my roof, the plants and trees are all invitations for meditation, peace, and wonder. Only in silence can I hear the stories it tells me as I get lost contemplating in its beautiful rhythm.

But while there’s immense peace and fulfillment, I cannot deny the feeling, that something which I can only describe in an understatement as melancholic. It is while listening to the melody of the rain that I experience that deep longing for something, someone so dear and how it rends my heart in pieces. I’ve already met her, in fact I’ve been seeing her for quite sometime now in my dreams and in my epiphanies.

Yep, it’s her alright. It’s so unnerving that I’ve already invested a lot of myself on her emotionally. Crazy right?! How I wish she was like some 変態 (hentai) model in a 雑誌 (magazine) that that old fart Shinimura gave me a few years ago. You know, just to have someone in your mind to toy around with just to past time and that’s it, you’re good and you’re done. ‘Til the next issue.

But I can’t quite comprehend why I kept seeing her. Not nude by the way or slutty or anything that my sometimes エロ (erotic) mind can come up with. But I kept seeing her in that particular rainy day such as this. That smile while she’s all soaked in her kimono feels nothing less than home. Like we’ve known each other for more than a couple of lifetimes.

And in those instances that we meet, she doesn’t get intimidated at all by the katana and wakizashi (the main long sword and the shorter one, respectively, that samurais take with them in feudal Japan) on my waist nor with the blood stains on my hands.

I’m surprised myself, not just on her reaction but why I have such traditional weapons with me. I’m a generally peaceful guy who just loves being left alone to my sometimes sacred and sometimes vile thoughts. But combat? Hell no. Of course I occasionally picture myself as mankind’s last hope, exacting justice for all the injustices done in the world. But with my physique, I can only hope I’d last in a real battlefield for 10 minutes. (I’m just an average guy, unlike sumo wrestlers or Arnold Zwa-, fuck it, the terminator guy, pronouncing his name is a nightmare ever since.) The last thing I’d want to do is to plunge a wakizashi in my hara (abdomen) while my captor bellows like crazy cutting my head off with his katana. やばいね. No thanks. Not with all modern Tokyo has to offer.

Hard as it is to imagine, that was a part of me a long long time ago. That I’m sure of. How do I know? I can feel it. Every atom in my body knows it. I just hope I was a victor back then and not the decapitated guy.

But I may had been the conqueror not the conquered, as the rain suggested. It was so vivid: the feelings of anger, regret, confusion, and the blood in my hands all went down the drain in that rainy afternoon while she held my hand. And even when everything was hazy because of the heavy downpour, there was that glint of invincible spring in her eyes. I might have forgotten all the other details surrounding that but I’d bet my head off, I will recognize her, I will be sure it will be her judging by that glimmer of yearning in her eyes.

– x – x –

Thinking in the rain JohnJohn - Illustrations ART street

Edo Period, June 1827. 1753 hours

Yumiko Suzuki’s (鈴木佑三子) definition of privilege is stting on her tatami mat while watching the ooame (大雨 ) outside. After finishing her chores early on that day, her mother allowed her to indulge on her favorite past time.

Now here she is, savoring eternity in every raindrop that falls as the heavy rain pounds the sakura tree outside and is swaying due to the gentle breeze. Her friends loathe a down pour such as this. But how can she? This is the only instance that she can have peace in their otherwise tumultuous family, a profound peace that she can only experience on a magical time such as this.

That, and something else. Her wishful thinking sounds strange to her sometimes but she didn’t care at all.

I hope this rain will never end. I want to see him again. I need to see his face and that glint on his eyes. I need to see him again…

femme fatale

The Evolution of the Femme Fatale in Film Noir ‹ CrimeReads

She looks lovely she can be deadly. She wears this short red dress and pedestaled on her 6 inches high stilettos.

I lay there flat on my back gasping for breath, trying to fight the suffocation from the blood gushing out of my mouth. My body is useless, lifeless like a scarecrow in the middle of the vast ocean.

“Who are you?” I tried to ask but it just sounded like gargles, meaningless mumbles.

She sat on my crotch. I can still see her cleavage, the lovely lumps that I indulged on earlier. She bent over until I can feel her breath on my ears. Damn her and her feminine fragrance.

“Thank you, I had fun. By the way, the name’s Lilith” she said as she got up and slowly walked out of the room. I could only follow her in a gaze, on her back and down to her lovely buttocks that was enhanced by her tightfitting dress, savoring the memory of what had been my toy just a few minutes ago…

To those who we were supposed to rub with in order to get polished but ended up cutting each other instead

I do acknowledge that you might have been hurting.

A harrowing childhood experience, trust issues, the hurtful and unfair ways that others treated you – it can be any combination of these or for any other reason.

I’d like you to know that I understand.

And that I know pain too.

It’s just that, I already painstakingly taught myself to use that pain not to exact vengeance or inflict others with the same pain to avenge life’s injustice towards me. I used it to realize why it’s completely useless to pass that pain to others. So instead, I harnessed it in order to be kinder towards other people and thus produce something good and worthwhile. It was tough, but I thank God for giving me a chance to practice to be a bit better everyday.

I am also trying hard day by day not to don the armor of the “victim” to render myself impregnable to all sorts of attack.

Your struggles and pains are all valid. And none of it doesn’t count just because somebody said they weren’t.

It’s just that –

I need to tell you strongly to NOT DO IT TO ME. As I have said, you have your reasons. The problem is, I am not yet in my higher self to sympathize with you or to help you fix yourself. Sure I am working on it every day but please understand that you picked the wrong guy who you thought would want to be a part of your pain in order to help you understand your shadow.

I haven’t reached that level yet that I will feel pity towards you on why the world was so unfair that it treated you as such.

And don’t expect that I will fully understand your antics, rhetoric, and the harm you intended me and everyone who you thought was fit to be a recipient of your hurtful mirror.

It was very unfortunate that we both met in such a wrong time and the wrong circumstances. It was also unfortunate that I will have to consider what transpired in between us as something that is not worth getting back to. There are memories which you will wish would just be buried somewhere meant to be forgotten, and never to be exhumed again. This will definitely be one of those.

Be kind, make that choice

In the same way that we can view unpleasant experiences with people as either the universe’s biggest mistake or a “necessary evil” towards the best that we can be, it is also our choice to treat people such that they will either remember us 1. as someone who cared, or 2. as the terrible nightmare that they’re glad they have waken up from.


The book makes the man

If I were to describe myself by the books that I read, I’d say 5% of the time I’m sluggishly flipping through the pages of Dale Carnegie’s “How to Win Friends and Influence People” and the remaining 95%, I would be digging with much gusto and taking everything to heart Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War”.

– 名前がない男の人

The quickest way to parallel universes

Photo by Rachel Claire on Pexels.com

Contrary to popular belief, the way towards parallel universes depends neither on the advancement of science nor by reincarnation and all that. If we want to experience a different world or a different reality, all we have to do is to change our everyday choices.


I burned my diary

School diary with daily hand written note burning in fire flame ⬇ Stock  Photo, Image by © ArthaDesignStudio #252365918

I burned my diary
in which the flame
gobbled greedily
Twas a delight
watching it on fire
with a devil’s grin
and maniacal desire
it’s worth every hurt
and every pain
watching them die
but not in vain
Previous desires
irreverent thoughts
so are bittersweet ones
I’ve forgotten most
All turned to ashes
leaving a scent
sweet as incense
an offering to the Muse
that I frequently abused

The Paranormal Case of the Vanishing Water In An Open Water Container

Truly it was strange and a bit freaky, it seemed “out of this world”.

The water level was up to the red line, initially. The faucet where the hose was attached was left open after the vexatious daily water interruption. After leaving it there for quite some time, my lady observed that the water was reduced and asked if I happened to take water from it. I said no. I thought it was the kid, the likely suspect who frequently sneaks outside to do something to spend his juvenile energies with. But no, he didn’t go out at all.

So it wasn’t anyone of us. Spooky indeed.

This isn’t the first instance we encountered such a weird phenomenon. Same stories had been circulating in our subdivision’s Facebook page. It was much worse though. The story is that a drum-full of water is stored in a house just beside a water refilling station. The hose was still in the drum, with the end fully submerged in water and the faucet is intentionally left often, which was often the case since the water supply isn’t available 24 hours.

The owner of the drum-full of water was shocked when he found out that nothing was left of his water supply except for an inch from the bottom of the container. What’s strange is, the owner observed a negative pressure from the end of the hose (suction). This happened at the same time that the pumps of the water refilling station adjacent to them are turned on.

Can it be the same reason why a significant amount of water we stored went poof, and gone? There isn’t a water refilling nearby though but could the presence of booster pumps be the reason?

Pseudo Scientific Method 1 – Form Hypotheses

I thought this peculiar phenomenon is caused by either of the following:

  1. Either we developed momentary amnesia that we forgot it was actually US who took some water from outside.
  2. Evaporation. It’s hot and humid outside, and it’s summer y’know.
  3. There is a leak somewhere in the container.
  4. It’s suctioned by a pumping device.

Can any of these be the culprit? Let’s see.

Pseudo Scientific Method 2 – Testing the Hypotheses

Investigating the presented hypotheses above:

  1. It’s not anyone of us. End of story.
  2. Come on, really?!
  3. There’s none.
  4. Well that’s a possibility.

But before we can conclude that it was suctioned by a pumping device, the following has to be established.

Pseudo Scientific Method 3 – Further Deductions

  1. Is there any device installed that would otherwise prevent backflow (because that would prevent suction which in turn would render the suction theory improbable)?
  2. Would the current water line system at some point naturally experience backflow?
  3. Is there anybody else in the neighborhood who experiences the same difficulties in water supply?
  4. Are there businesses that would require a water supply that is greater than the average domestic consumption?
  5. Do you know anyone in the neighborhood who uses more than the usual household consumption?
  6. Are there any broken water distribution lines somewhere?

Pseudo Scientific Method 4 – Final Deductions

Answering the previous questions:

  1. There are no check valves (something you attach to the distribution pipeline to prevent backflow) used. There are only the gate valve and the water meter. Water meters don’t have built-in check valves inside.
  2. No/Highly unlikely. Main source of water is a non-pressurized overhead water tank whose primary mechanism is gravity flow.
  3. There are lots of them, lots of us in distress who are ready to call foreign intervention if possible.
  4. Water refilling stations. How their businesses survive despite the water supply problem is as intriguing as Big Bang itself.
  5. No one in particular, or none that is observable. The culprit by the way, need not possess a water business, everyone can just buy one.
  6. None. That I am sure because otherwise, everyone will be affected and it should’ve already manifested. Unless someone opens a hydrant which would drain all the water from the tank and all the water lines.

Now, based on the above, I can concur with certainty that the curious paranormal case of the reduced water in the container is caused not by some evil spell nor by restless spirits, but by none other than selfish dickheads with their illegally installed booster pumps.

I Will Compose Melancholic Tunes

I will compose melancholic tunes
that’s guaranteed to conjure the gloom
and the depression
welcomed back home

I’d listen intently
with eyes closed
and heart and mind open
and long for that part of me
who left before I was born
and wandered
in it’s own leisure
into the woods
in the midst of the storm
into the wilderness
in the land of nowhere
and there laid his head
took a nap
lived in a different realm
and failed to return

I want to write a sad tune
that’ll always
the part of my soul
that left a void
and got replaced with
eternal rain
flooding my being
seeping into
the depths
the crevices
deep within

I will play the sad tunes
so I’ll be able
to come back again
and again
and again
to celebrate the day
I’ve lost that something
but had
all the world’s
to obtain
with the wine of suffering
and a gloomy melody
to console the loss
and commemorate the gain

Touch not my diary!

Touch not my diary
and leave my thoughts alone!
For you are not permitted to peer
inside my thoughts
made tangible
through scribbles and notes.

You are not permitted
inside my sanctuary
and neither are you allowed
of the vileness of my world
and the sanctity of my core.

You mustn’t see all the blood
I spilled all over the floor
nor the stains left off my enemies
I splattered on the walls.

You are not entitled to see
when I bleed
my pain
and my agony
nor the torrential tears I’d shed
turned to ink
and spilled on paper
It’s for me and me alone
and as such, when you dare to look
a heinous crime is done.

It is where I mourned
the thousand deaths of me
and where all of the ashes
forever betrothed to the sea.

It was also the sole witness
together with God himself
how from the ashes
a new me came forth and was born.
Torn to bits and pieces though I was
everyday I’m getting fixed,
getting built to last.

So touch not my diary
you insolent swine!
To your pen, go on and roam
and leave all my thoughts alone!

Don’t Throw Shades, Cast Them!

Don’t be bothered when people are throwing shade at you. As long as you’re not hurting or maligning anyone, just let them be. The best you can do is to collect all of those shades thrown at you and pile ’em up as you continuously work on yourself, until you’ve become better and grown enough that you didn’t realize you’ve already casted a shadow on them.

– 名前がない男の人

“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s apathy.” – Elie Wiesel

Let us be careful that we don’t drive the ones we love to the point of no return. That, is when they no longer give a damn.

We may drive them to fits of laughter in one instance and then swing to the other extreme end of sorrow/rage. If they are still right beside us after all of those roller coaster rides, we are damn sure lucky sons of bitches. 

But when we drive them across their Rubicons, to the point that they are already numb and they no longer give a shit even if we pour in everything we’ve got ’til kingdom come just to get them back, then we’ll know that THAT right there is the turning point.

And more often than not, there’s no going back after that. 

Is Air-con a Necessity or a Luxury?

Air Conditioner Compressor Outdoor Unit Installed Outside The.. Stock  Photo, Picture And Royalty Free Image. Image 123804540.

I used to envy people who have ACUs (air-conditioning units) in their homes when I was a kid. What’s not to envy when all you have to fend off the heat is an electric fan that just circulates the same humid air, right?

And in addition to that, I thought having one epitomizes a well-off type of living. After all, they have more than what they need (an electric fan as a minimum would suffice, or so I thought) so that should make it a luxury.

Fast forward to today in the midst of the scorching heat of summer. We’re kilometers away from the hustle and bustle of the metro, in a small house within a small lot with trees all around. The setting is typical of a countryside; trees abound and shrubs dominate most of the landscape. The presence of vegetation and the relatively low amounts of pollution make it possible to sleep at night tucked beneath our blankets without the need of an air-con.

That, I came to realize, is luxury: when air-con is no longer a necessity to counter the sweltering heat. And contrary to the popular notion that surrounding yourself with everything man-made is king, experiencing nature in itself and reaping all of its benefits is in its truest sense, a bona fide luxury.

Humans’ Basic Need of Self-Expression

A Fresh Look at Faded Van Gogh Paintings - American Coatings Association

Aside from the physiological needs of humans such as food and oxygen, the frequently neglected and oftentimes deemed unnecessary need to survive on our sojourn in life is to be able to express ourselves.

It’s not the type of expression that springs from the insecure ego who constantly demands likes and applause just to have itself validated. It’s the expression that is borne out of necessity. The necessity and the urgency to express yourself without the need of outside validation, or else you’ll die. It’s that kind of expression that we need to hone so that we can harness its healing power and the inner peace that it brings.

What keeps us however from getting in touch with our expressive side which has the potential of healing our souls, is our lack of courage to pursue them wholeheartedly. Because of our fears, primarily the fear of being misunderstood among others, we tend to tiptoe with half-assed efforts instead of engaging it with all our soul, with all our might, and in the fullness of our selves. And in doing so, we fail to unlock the full potential of that self-expression, which adds to our current suffocation and sickness of reality.

It’s only after we render ourselves vulnerable to our self-expressions will we be able to discover the strength we need to keep us up on our feet, and the hope that tomorrow will be better, if not the best that is yet to come for us.

So write that poetry that had been bugging you for quite some time now. Draw that abstract idea, paint that rather absurd image that resides in your head even if the only word that the world will ever describe it is ‘nonsensical’. Sing like the world’s an open stadium with no other humans around. Dance such that gods and goddesses that ever were will be put to shame.

You may not have created something that will outshine John Keats, Pablo Picasso, Bob Dylan or Michael Jackson. But it doesn’t matter. It’s because you were able to achieve something far more important than what you were able to realize:

You’ve been able to breathe.

And in the process of breathing, you were able to make somebody else breathe as well.

que habla español

Trivium Memes on Twitter: "You feel like the broken one Over and over  again... Still not sure if i should make jokes about this or not 😅  Hopefully not broken!… https://t.co/XZ4fCJ7fD2"

I can’t help it sometimes but be amazed at how fluent I am in Spanish. I don’t need somebody to speak Spanish with actually. In fact, it just comes naturally especially when I am startled or surprised.

Like that one time when the little boy was about to plug in the electric fan. Acting on pure instinct, I flew from where I was seated, my aim was to reach the plug before it reaches the socket.

The corner of the wall however, caught my right pinky toe bending it at a 90 degree angle. Thankfully, I made it just in time to grab the plug from his hands.

It was mixed emotions after that. I was relieved I had the plug, but I couldn’t remember the feeling of “relief” other than the pain that ensued. I fought back the urge to bellow in rage but I managed to let out a barrage of pure Spanish words and phrases after that.


Why do we ever have to leave good mentors and bosses?

One of the hardest parts of leaving a workplace is leaving a good friend, mentor, or boss behind. I myself at several times in my career had a hard time processing the thought that I lost an ally, a friend, and a guide.

But of course as such is life. And in as much as I’d like to fret and get depressed over my loss of a good mentor, I realized that it’s just the way it is: a natural process of life that we have to accept.

Nevertheless, it’s but human that we feel upset as we look back at people that we lost in the process of moving on: those who had been our brothers and sisters at work, the very people who we shed metaphorical blood with when the times got rough and tough, and also the ones we shared revelries with after a successful project delivery.

What’s comforting to know is that they left us something worthwhile, something more important than the reason why the heavens allowed that we’ll no longer be mentored by such great teachers.

It was intended for us to learn to stand on our own sturdy legs

The downside of working with great mentors is we may inadvertently develop a complacent type of dependence. Of course it is a vital quality of a team to become mutually dependent of one another based on one’s respective role. And this is not to say that working under a boss whose values do not resonate with us is better.

But the danger of which is we may become inflicted with a debilitating dependence where you become too relaxed and indolent because of the thought that someone got you covered no matter what.

At a certain point in our lives whether we will still be in the same industry or not, we will be in charge to hold the line and be accountable for our actions. In those instances, it will no longer be our good mentors who will be there to save us. By then, it will all be up to us.

They came to illuminate our way

For me, good teachers are all God-sent angels in disguise, meant to show us the first and essential steps, if not the whole way. If you’re not into theology, it’s the universe or destiny or their calling to guide our souls in our journey towards the realization of our own potentials.

Before our guides came, we had been wandering in darkness lost in a labyrinth of pathways that lead to some place only God knows where. Then came our good mentors holding a lamp. The lamp may not be as bright as a supernova to bring everything to light but it is bright enough to guide us in our succeeding steps.

And if we’re closely paying attention, our good mentors did not just show us the way. More importantly, they showed us how it’s done properly. Correctly. Efficiently.

And even if what we’ve learned from them isn’t the superb way of doing things, they still left us something of equal importance: they left us something to begin with. It’s enough to get us started, to explore other options and to improve them. How kickass can that be?

‘Thank you, sensei!’

Great teachers and bosses come and go. We cannot expect to hold on to such great blessings for too long, right? After all, there are blessings that are meant to be shared anyway.

And as it turns out, they never really left us at all. Because good mentors and bosses left behind in us a good part of themselves.

Boomer Journals 8 – DBE: The Art of Balancing Iron Hands With Kindness

The game was Lucky 9. I was not completely hopeless, I had cards to play with: 7 and 3. And nothing else. It’s not much but I had to play nonetheless…

My 7 and 3 cards were introversion and the lack of experience (I had a previous work experience albeit negligible) which consequently added to my already dismal levels of self confidence.

Despite the overwhelming odds, I still consider myself lucky even if I haven’t felt as such right at the moment. And that’s because I was fortunate enough to work a decade ago under the management of our project manager, DBE.

The Alpha Manager

He was fondly known in the company with those initials. He was a skillful white-haired leader of the project site who delivered countless monumental projects to completion in an orderly, honest, and efficient fashion. He knows his psychology so well as he dealt skillfully with everyone in the project site from the laborers up to the project owner.

He was a strongman, highly experienced trouble-shooter, with an unbelievable presence of mind, and a master of “psywarring”. Due to his results oriented work attitude, he was often portrayed as a tough guy and unforgiving such that many that I knew trembled at the mere mention of his initials.

He was good natured during my interview though, far from what I’d learn later so I didn’t see that side of him just yet. But after a few days and weeks, I saw his deadly precision and smoldering passion for the projects that he handles. Slowly, I came to realize that my role under his team was something I didn’t think I was prepared to execute. At some point I told myself uh-oh, this sure is going to be the end of me.

A walk in Jurassic Park

Working under his command wasn’t a walk in the park. Well it may had been albeit, from the punch lines of the late Senator Miriam Defensor Santiago, it was a stroll in Jurassic Park. Site work demands your toughness: physically, mentally, and emotionally. I knew I can survive the physical but I was doubtful of the other two.

Supposed to be, site engineers should be assertive mini project managers in the job site. You should be as shrewd as the owner in making sure that everything in the project from manpower to materials are all in their tiptop shape; and an overseer who makes sure that daily operations run smoothly and have all the edges ironed out. Sleep and rest should be nonexistent entries in your lexicon.

Yep, that’s the way it should be. Or else, how can you deal with subcontractors, your fellow engineers, suppliers, bosses, and owners, site issues, and all that chaos in a daily basis?!

He expected us, me specifically, to be proactive with all the activities. Even if I was nearly paralyzed with fear of falling short of his expectations, I did my best with all honesty . But that didn’t stop him from all his refreshing “pananabon” or reprimands because of my lapses. He didn’t want any half-assed efforts, so I still pushed myself to focus even if I cannot help it sometimes but to dream far beyond the sun of a structural design job which I deemed as a job more suitable to introverts and “unassertive” individuals like myself at the time, and not the pushy site engineer that I need to be.

I cannot just leave because I couldn’t afford not to work so I tried to stay with it and bear with paying my tuition, despite my violent protests to my role. But even so, I still tried to be at my best even if the only motivation I can think of at the time was to evade getting admonished by him.

That’s what the work demanded from us. It’s one hell of a job, but it was a job that has to be done nonetheless.

Choosing to be kind in a rather unkind situation

There was a time when I had to go to one of our dumpsites to check why our dump trucks couldn’t make it back immediately. I stayed there until past noon when I was sure that there will be no more delays in disposing filling materials. When I made it back to the job site, it was already but a few minutes before the resumption of operations in the afternoon.

When they saw me, they all told me that they accidentally forgot all about me and that they weren’t able to set aside my lunch (we pitch in our contributions for our lunch which will be cooked in the makeshift kitchen of our field office). I didn’t give it much thought. No big deal. It happens sometimes and I fully believe it was unintentional so I just went outside and scoured for a place to chow.

A few weeks after that, we’ve had an operations meeting with all the other staff. My attention wasn’t quite in the meeting when the materials engineer who was beside me at that time brought back my attention and I heard just in time DBE talking about being mindful of everyone in the project and further said ayoko yung may magsasabi na ‘ay ayoko dyan, lagi akong nauubusan dyan.’ (I don’t want to hear anyone in my team saying “no one cares about me there.”)

I was surprised. I initially thought my existence in the project team was just an expendable one, but DBE took notice and cared enough to verbalize it. I couldn’t forget those words and the feelings that ensued. The DBE that they dubbed as “terrible” took notice of the lowly site engineer of his team!

Aside from that, I also heard from others how he acknowledged my efforts as evident on how I turned skin and bones due to lack of sleep, the punishment of the harsh heat of the day and the freezing nights that I had to stay in the jobsite. They would tell me napuri ka na ni boss (boss already acknowledged your hard work.) Only a after few years down line would I realize how much those words would mean to me as a professional.

I didn’t think I’d ever be benefitted of such kindness from boss. I was a greenhorn and introverted albeit the demand of the job wouldn’t have any of those as an excuse. But I did receive kindness from the tough man himself. It was very unlikely that it almost seemed surreal but it was real nonetheless.

“Napuri ka na ni boss…”

A heart behind the iron hands

It would’ve been easy for him to play politics, with me at his immediate disposal since I am quiet most of the time. But he did not. He was the first to show me that in order to succeed in the corporate world, you just need to be fair and be kind to everyone while pushing your people to be at their best not just for the company but for themselves as well.

Toxic office politics isn’t a norm under his command. If you fail to do your part, it’s your fault and you’ll get castigated for that. If you do your job well, whoever you are and whatever your disposition is, all is well and he’s expecting you to get better at it.

I sure received a lot of admonitions from him, a lot of them humiliating and a bitter pill to swallow. But what’s strange is beyond all those castigations, I felt that he cared. Not only for my output and role in his team and the company, but for my own personal improvement as well. I’ve met but a few people who have that skill of making you feel valued genuinely even while you’re being castigated because of your lapses.

He may not have seen a competitive me in those moments. In fact, I might have been the least from among his team. But I believe he saw my honest efforts to meet the demands of the job and to improve. And he also acknowledged that I was trying so hard as I consequently pushed myself outside of my wits and limits. The least that he could do was to be kind while still pushing me to be better.

He still demanded our best all throughout the duration that he led the project. It was not a picnic, in fact it had been ugly for a lot of times. And yet despite how unkind the workplace and the activities can get, he chose to deal with kindness towards the greenhorn me. That was something that never left me from the time I was a mere private in the engineering profession up to now that I already earned a lot of scars to boast with.

And while I already learned from a lot people, people who I told myself that I’ll do my very best not to become like them when I get old, I told myself I wanted to become like DBE when the time comes for me to lead my own. DBE’s sincere care for my professional welfare and his desire to pull someone outside of his comfort zone in order to grow and succeed, is what I always wanted to emulate and possess even before my crown turns permanently white.

And his kindness towards me, despite how unkind the circumstances were is something worth paying forward.

The “tomato” way to fame

While I cannot customize my rather archaic thinking to conform with “pop art”, I became interested nonetheless in determining the psychological profile of my readers in social media – what posts do they react to mostly and what piques their interest, in order to drive them eventually to my page and hopefully drag them all the way to my blog.

It all started when I wondered why my post about our backyard tomatoes garnered more likes than any of my presupposed reaction-eliciting thoughts and funny anecdotes.

I couldn’t believe it at first. A tomato? Really?!!

At first I thought it has something to do with one’s familiarity to the author (you cannot just comment on someone’s post even if it hits you home if you’re not that close, right?) Or maybe I am, in reality, an alien wearing a human costume desperately trying to blend in with humans.

I don’t know.

I’ve tried to make predictions, did countless social experiments on my own but still I cannot get that reaction I was rooting at. Audiences, turns out, are like women in terms of complexity and unpredictability.

Still confused, I asked my lady and she had this for an answer:

You know, almost everyone today is experiencing quarantine fatigue and they want a quick fix. An easy laugh or something easy to digest. What you posted (referring to the tomatoes) doesn’t have any riddles, no politics, no drama, no hidden meaning that they still need to decipher, and no vocabulary that needs to be consulted to a dictionary. Now if you’re trying to be poetic and all that and your post still needs to be further broken down into quarks and bosons in order to get the meaning, then you might as well kiss any form of reaction goodbye.”

Well, whatever the reason may be, I hope it’s not because I am a lousy storyteller.

Self Humiliating Grace

You gotta give God some credit for His goodness. Instead of giving us our much deserved affliction when we become bloated ungrateful bastards, He smacks us right in our faces with His unexpected blessings that we instantly deflate and become devoid of our egos leaving us empty and humiliated of our own arrogance.


Guess who

I have multiple personalities. It automatically selects which particular ‘me’ should take over to suit anyone I am talking to.

So if you’re wondering where is the usually warm and quiet me that you were talking to awhile ago, please understand that your presence might have conjured my cold and asshole self.

That also makes me a very good mirror. What you see in me is a reflection of who you are to me.


The Perfect Workplace for Introverts and Non Office Politics Players

I don’t care that you do not play office politics. We don’t have that type of culture here anyway.

I don’t care that you frequently stay put in your workstation; that you do not go out and have lunch, dinner, or snacks with majority of your officemates during break.

I don’t mind if you are introverted, just sitting there quietly doing your thing.

I don’t mistake your quiet demeanor as a lack of loyalty to me or the company. You don’t need to feel threatened that you are quiet.

I understand that you have your family to attend to that you cannot attend to some of our company socials. I would be surprised in fact if you don’t tend to them first.

In here we coach each other, build each other, lift each other, care for each other.

In here, we don’t set someone up for failure so we can justify throwing him/her out the window.

This office is run by trust, not on how close you are to the director, your manager, or anyone.”

There are offices, companies, and bosses where you’ll hear these despite that they’re not being verbalized.

You’ll feel it in the overall office atmosphere. You’ll feel it in how you’re being treated. You’ll feel that freedom and trust whether you are within your company’s premises or in the comfort of your own home.

You’ll feel you are blessed when you find such kind of offices, companies, and bosses.

Well I was.

And sure I still am currently, right at this very moment.

Wishing you’re blessed to be in this kind of workplace too!

#greatworkplace #freedom #nontoxicworkplace

“♬♪… ang mamatay (wag naman po sana!🙏) ng dahil sayo…♩♪♫♬”

If war breaks out (God forbids!) we who had been the last batch to undergo mandatory ROTC in college were automatically enlisted as reserve.

We’ll be “frontliners” then. I imagine we’d be dodging bullets, saying hello to incoming artillery fire, playing “piko” so as not to step on landmines, and frequently hugging the ground.

Being enlisted by the state to defend itself anyway is an opportunity to offer the ultimate sacrifice for the country. It’s the consummation of the last line of the national anthem which is “… ang mamatay ng dahil sayo…”

What does that have to offer? An opportunity to defend (and to die, to complete the rhetoric) for something which is the country. At least we’ll not be dying for nothing, ain’t it?

Not that I’m looking forward to die with a bullet inside me or being surprised by deadly shockwaves and shrapnel from grenades by the way.

I just can’t help but think though, how lucky were the ones who enrolled in NSTP instead. While the thought of holding an M16 rifle ala Rambo while saying “live for nothing, or die for something” sounds totally heroic and romantic, I still believe that the ones behind the frontliners are much more lucky since they are the ones who are most likely to make it out of the war alive.

You are not a clown

You are not a clown
even if you
frequently lift
the fallen
whether he’s down
flat on his face
or on his knees
bellowing his pain
with torrential tears

You are not a clown
even as you go around
lighting up candles
on dark and eerie alleys
or painting smiles on lips
kissed by the
world’s doom and gloom

Share if you must
impart to the world your gifts
but when you find your self
flat on your face
or on your knees
bellowing your pain
with torrential tears
always remember –

You need not get up
thinking you’re a clown
that you have to forget
much more neglect
your self
your pain
just to become a jester
running round town

Home Security

ice cube pissed face | Meme Generator

When it comes to security at home, I would qualify myself as the most paranoid.

My heart would often skip a bit as I immediately blurt out a barrage of Spanish expletives when I see a door left open, or an unlocked barrel bolt or door knob. I would then immediately remind everyone at home, regardless of whoever they may be, in an exasperated tone how important it is to observe simple yet very important rules in safety.

The good thing is, we ourselves imbibed the urgency to immediately secure our home starting from ensuring that doors are always locked.

Unfortunately, we’ve had some housemates back then who have little regard to the set rules. They would often leave the backdoor unlocked or the padlock improperly set, despite that it only would have taken a few calories to do properly. Still my paranoid self, I would often remind them emphatically the importance of being mindful about the security at home. And we even cited examples of recent news of burglars breaking into homes near our area.

But to no avail.

One day, we cited a rather unfortunate news of someone getting murdered inside their home in broad daylight, their home just less than a kilometer from our area. We thought we already got the message across with the most powerful example after telling them that unfortunate horrific example of relaxed home security protocols gone wrong.

Imagine our shock and exasperated faces, as we clutched our hands in utter disbelief when she said nonchalantly, almost in a jokingly manner:

Minardər da idan a...” (“Oh well, they got murdered alright…”)

…(You didn’t think I’d see that, do you…)

Funny Sarcastic Memes - Sweetytextmessages.com

Even if we vehemently deny, there’s just no way we can deny that there’s more than meets the eye. In other words, what we don’t say in most cases speaks louder than what comes out of our lips. It is possible, thanks to good ole psychology. That’s the wonder of being able to read body language which is, most of the time, more conspicuous than spoken words. 

With no less than the constitution guaranteeing our right to freedom of expression which can be further justified by the cliché ‘insult is taken, not given’, we ought to be responsible with what we say so we wont end up pissing whoever is in front of us at worse or, we’ll be getting our points across albeit convoluted at best.

A time for everything

There’s a time and place for jokes and our oozing sarcasm. It is in such time that we can roast someone sans the coals or when we play a prank on a homie.

And then there are instances when such ‘skills’ need to take a back seat to give way to civility and diplomacy especially when dealing with people who are not our close friends like our coworkers, our bosses, or a random fellow human we’d meet somewhere. You just gotta shut up sometimes despite the urge to throw a punchline, a quasi-insult or a full-fledged one.

But even when you mean nothing sinister at all, you can still be misinterpreted. If you’re not bothered by this, you need not give a damn. But if it’s a client or anyone who needs an exact account of any story, you will need to extend yourself to explain carefully what you wanted to tell them in such a way that it leaves no room for other interpretations.

No matter how careful you are though, people can still, or will deliberately misinterpret you. And sometimes, people assume that the person in front of them is stupid, and so they become oblivious to what’s going on inside the person’s head. You can only hope they’re not imagining the smell of your skin being roasted in flames.

Fill in the blanks

Nevertheless it is fun to listen sometimes and complete their rather incomplete sentences in your head, especially when you can read the body language which is hard to fake, like the few examples below. You really gotta thank psychology for giving such a comic relief.

  • Your sibling is dang brainy (And you’re braindead!)
  • You have cool parents (You’re not like them. Not one bit. Are you legitimate or what?!)
  • Your parents have Latin honors?! (Then why are you their mea culpa?!)
  • You’re entitled to a better care. (Because they are losers and not competent enough, you know?!)

Boomer Journals 8 – ‘Tang’ and His Abhorrence of Excessively Teasing Kids

Why do kids cry so much? The science behind sobbing

At some point in our lives when we were older, we took delight in bullying kids by means of teasing them until they bawl out of frustration. And when the child reacts, we adults often take it as an attack on our “authority” over them, hence we show enough force to keep the kid scared for another day.

Why in the world do we do it? Maybe because some of us view children as hopeless little losers. Or perhaps it’s a way of establishing our ‘authority’ being the grown up among the growing up, or maybe because we want to avenge ourselves of our past humiliations by adults when we were kids.

The often unseen, neglected side of the coin

The problem with such power tripping on children is the long-term effects of bullying to them when they mature, which of course varies from one kid to another. The kids will eventually outgrow their childishness, become discerning teens and eventually adults. It would have been sufficient if it was explained later on, that those were just pranks not intended to harm their self-esteem. But that’s hardly ever the case. They even label you as a ‘pussy’ for not being able to handle their ‘little jokes’.

While some kids eventually outgrow them, others cannot help but nurture loathing and harbor feelings of anger towards the adults who had been bullying them in their childhood. While suppressed negative emotions such as anger do not necessarily end up in direct assault by the bullied kids when they grow up, they can develop lasting feelings of lost respect towards the grownups and apathy.

And when they inevitably reach their saturation point and it clicks, it’s all over. The harrowing experiences of shame and anger is permanently etched in their long-term memory. There’s nothing much you can do to change their minds after that. Sure the kids might still talk to adults after but the respect they once had already vanished into thin air.

I once thought this was the norm. That it’s just something children inevitably needs to deal with.

That is until I heard stories of my father-in-law.

“Not on my watch.”

He didn’t tolerate any grownups teasing his children to the extent that his kids would be begging for them to stop until they cry, especially when it comes to food. He would often reproach erring adults by telling them “Ala sigi, isuru yu dagita nga mapukaw tu ti respeto da kadakayo.” (You’re teaching them to lose their respect towards you with what you’re doing.)

He did not just apply the rule to his children, he made it sure that other kids within his care will be treated right thus consequently teaching them to respect others as well. And when those kids grew up and became adults, the respect, that high regard towards the old man never departed such that they even accorded him the same esteem while he was on his deathbed.

But it went beyond that.

He walked the talk such that the respect they gave him transcended his death such that his children now receives the same esteem from the other kids (now responsible adults with their own families) he once taught.

The gift that keeps on giving and giving

It might have been an unpopular stance but he did not care because he knew better which is why he did better.

Why? Because he believes respect knows no age limit, be it a 2 year old kid or an adult. There’s an acceptable limit to teasing in the spirit of fun and play. But if what we as adults deem as fun results to harbored anger and resentment of the child towards himself and others, then we should by all means know better.

What he taught them while he was alive transcended his human form and continues to teach me to this day, years after his death.

Truly, the goodness he had sown still ripples to this day. The bounds of which only God can tell.

0000 Hours

Here I am
witnessing the day
that had been
give way to another
Trying to see
if the hour
which was said to be
possessed by some
kind of magic
where it begets poetry
and it’s population
booms profusely
And if at all
can it scratch the itch
or if it makes it worse
such that
when I scratch the surface,
from the open wound it oozes
the universe

A Soviet Horror Story

Polish soldier Jan Grzybek with his horse drinking water from the stream,  1970s, colorized | 960x733 : MilitaryPorn

In the year 1875, a Soviet Union soldier named Dimitri was on a horseback when he got lost in a haunted forest near Moscow. He looked up the sky: it was high noon and the air is humid.

He was getting anxious when he saw a stream in which he immediately got off his horse as soon as he reached the bank. Dimitri was totally parched that he would drink from the flowing water in front of him but he hesitated thinking that it might be unsafe for drinking.

He then saw his horse as it already went past him to drink greedily from the stream. It reminded him instantly of a famous quote from Saint Seraphim of Sarov:

“Drink water from the spring where horses drink, The horse will never drink bad water…”

Dimitri immediately went over and knelt beside the horse to drink, his face just a few inches from the head of the lapping brute.

After only a split second, the horse stopped drinking and hurriedly left…


Someone just scorned you by calling you a “frog”.

And you responded: “You know what, you’re right, although there’s more to that: I’m a frogman. Either you forgot about that, or that blank stare on your face tells me you don’t have the slightest idea of what that is.”

Now, how badass can that be?!

photo from navytimes.com


時々俺は本当にばーかだ. 未だ日本語が読んで書いて話した い …

下 は かっこういい曲 だ . 聴て!!!


戻りたいな 泣き出しそうだ


あぁ なんだかばかばかしいな
ねぇ だったらかまってよ
あなたが好きなの 他じゃ嫌なの
あなたじゃなきゃ 私ダメなの
ぎゅーっ!って そっと抱きついた

『ごめんね 愛しているよ』
わたしも大好き 愛しているよ


時計の針 脈打つ鼓動

ごめんね? それに携帯ばかり
だけど 素直になれなかった

終わりにしよって』 僕に言った
あぁ なんだか子供みたいだ…
あのさ 本当は言いたいんだ
君が好きなの 他じゃ嫌なの
君だけいれば 僕はいいの
ぎゅっ!って そっと抱きついた

今までごめんね 大好きだよ

一緒に人生 歩み進めて
行きたいな 生きたいな? ね!

だから これからも愛してほしい
僕が宝物に 送る愛の言葉


時計の針 脈打つ鼓動 2人の記憶が

Boomer Journals 7 – Mimicking Gunfire and Explosions As Kids During “War” Games

AnoSaiyo Toy Gun Wooden Boys Girls Rattling Sound Baril Barilan 90's Small,  Toys & Games, Toys on Carousell

Prior to smartphones today, we were never short of means of letting out that natural male aggression, especially the way that war games do.

We ducked and hid behind rocks and trees, all to the delight of our juvenile selves which inevitably irked our mothers especially when we go home with scratches, wounds, and soiled clothes. It’s almost always guaranteed that it will end up in countless “initiation” rites, where we kids were the recipient of the said initiations.

With nothing but makeshift sticks that doesn’t even need to actually resemble a pistol or long firearm, we “hunted” our enemies using our voices as fired bullets. Mind you, we even classified what type of firepower we had just by the mere sound of the gunfire.

‘Twas fun. It still is up to now actually. Although the fun evolved into funNY and is somewhat embarrassing to a certain extent.

Those experiences though, were all worth it to be archived in the album called “Childhood Memories”.

Different ways kids back then tried to mimic gunfire and explosions during “baril-barilan” (shoot out game):

  • A semiautomatic – BRATATATATAT!!!
  • Caliber .45 – TOG⬇️ SHAW⬆️!!!
  • A pistol with silencer – Psshhhhiw⬆️ Psshhhhiw⬆️!!!
  • Magnum 357 – BANG BANG BANG!!!
  • Fragmentation grenade – BOOOMMM!!!
  • Caliber .38 – BENG BENG BENG!!!
  • Shotgun – tsk tsk BOOM!!!
  • Rocket launcher (upon impact) – BOOONNNGG!!!
  • M16 – PRRRRT PRRRRT!!!
  • Nuke – KABOOOMMM!!!

Calling your soul to come home

When you got a body but can’t find your soul

poke a hole
and break the wall

and if that doesn’t do it just yet
write that vagabond a letter
brood it a little
yell if you must
at the top of your lungs
put it all on paper
nail it at the door outside
and leave it altogether

tomorrow it’ll come
and knock on the door
will bring some presents too:
your demons on one hand
your passions on the other
both, a gift you ought to
ought to share together

Writers hold on to tomorrow despite the lack of assurance that they will ever see it

Not everything you write will rock. A lot of them won’t even make sense in fact. It doesn’t matter though. Because the only thing that counts is to embrace the fact that your writing will inevitably suck sometimes and there’s very little you can do except to get on with it and keep on writing.

And because some of a writer’s toil of sweat and blood will suck, he is not immune to heartaches and frustrations. But instead of succumbing to them, he musters his courage and strength to thrive on them and coexist. Sometimes, he gains the upperhand. Sometimes, he makes a cookbook out of hordes upon hordes of heartaches and frustrations and makes them his nourishment.

But a writer’s comfort lies on the thought that he can keep on writing even if what he wrote today sucked. Because tomorrow is a resemblance of hope that what he will write tomorrow will finally make sense.



Another chance.

That’s the way I approach writing. I just hope I can approach life with the same hope and enthusiasm especially in times when nothing seems to make sense.

When pictures conjure feelings that can’t be put to words

I can write a bit to express myself. I’m ok with that.

But if there is something I envy the most from other artists particularly visual artists, it is the ability to express emotions thru drawing. Because up until today, I still cannot convey some feelings using words the way these pictures (among others) do.

So much for self pity. I hope I’d be able to draw like these in my next life, though.

Credits to Pinterest where these were taken.

En esta historia deku tiene un quirk, también un harem bien vrgs :v … #acción # Acción # amreading # books # wattpad
Inspirationally Sane By Art And Music  : Photo
The Garden of Words (2013) Phone Wallpaper | Moviemania

“Let’s fix this”

Consider yourself lucky if you find yourself a leader who will say “let’s fix this” when things go wrong rather than someone who will leave you hanging in the air, waiting for you to spectacularly fail in order to give them legitimate reasons to throw you under the bus.


Me vs Social Media

I’d be waging war
on my mobile’s social media

For instead of transcribing
my unadulterated thoughts
on the blank page
I instead
browse one post
after another
up until
I wasted an hour
an eternity
meant for a good story
an hour
of my time
my precious time
my life
a part of me

There, I finally nailed it
my undying commitment
to limit and refrain
from allowing my mind
to be subdued
by social media.
And to make myself
I’ll post this in Facebook,

Sowing Seeds of Kindness Today and Reaping Our Saving Grace Tomorrow

Sowing seeds of kindness is like building oases in this arid wilderness of life. The magical thing about these providential zones of solace is that we run into them more than once in our lives. And in most unlikely situations, we are blessed to come across the same people who were beneficiaries of our selfless acts of kindness. Only this time, we are at the receiving end of their generosity.

And even if we never meet again the very people who we extended our kindness upon, that loving deed no matter how simple will never be destroyed nor lost in oblivion. Just like energy, it will eventually find another tangible form and will greet us once again with a pat in the back like a long lost friend or brother.

Take time to appreciate people who had been kind to offer you an oasis of rest and refreshment during the heat of the day or a safe haven of renewed hope in a quiet evening.

How many oases have you been able to build?

(If this finds anyone who had been kind one way or another, I wish to extend my heartfelt “thanks”. A grateful heart will never forget.)


Vaccine Jokes

If only there’s a vaccine
that will render
your memories
as hilarious punchlines
where I’d laugh out loud
instead of being
moved to tears,
a numbed sensation
instead of searing pain,
and will boost my system
with anti-rage bodies
everytime I’m on the verge
of turning green –

I’d inoculate myself
right fucking here,
right fucking now…

Boomer Journals 6 – Washing Dishes With Pail and a Makeshift Dipper

We were having problems with our subdivision’s water supply. Whether it’s scarcity from the supply line or mismanagement in the distribution, only heaven knows how pissed we already were. The word ‘pissed’ by the way is already a watered down understatement of our mounting frustrations.

I felt the brunt of the unpleasant experience one night while washing the dishes using a plasticware for a makeshift dipper and a pailful of water saved the other day. While I was able to tame my grumbling self, I failed to do the same for my legs and my back brought about by standing for too long while looking dejectedly at the open, dropless faucet.

And tomorrow came.

Hopeful though I was with the dawning of the new day, I abandoned all hopes of having a running water in our tap.

Then evening came.

The dreaded moment of washing the dishes with a makeshift dipper and a pailful of water is mocking me right in my face once again. But before plunging into foretold misery, I opened the faucet with my eyes narrowed anticipating for the worst.

But lo and behold, water came out where I was expecting air! This was another instance in my life where I felt so good having my expectations proven wrong.

No more dipping tonight. And tonight, I told myself, I’m gonna be washing soap sods off kitchenwares on running water.

Suddenly, something dropped onto the plate I was holding. It was only then that I realized I was in tears. I was so fucking happy that I cried.

Writing disorders

It happens to all mortal writers.

It’s not a matter of if, but a matter of when. These “disorders” are common to all writers whether he is experienced or an amateur.

  • Diaryhea – impulsive-compulsive writing disorder due to sudden burst of ideas oftentimes coming out of nowhere. Indication includes scurrying around looking for any medium possible such as toilet papers, receipts, phone, or anything within arms reach to jot down ideas while they can still be vividly recognized. Failure to do so often results in psychological conditions such as regret and depression.
  • Constipation – when the mind clogs due to unprocessed ideas not written immediately. Analogous to a hanged computer due to overload of data and commands. The problem with this condition is it eventually makes the writer “explode” which explains why some of his outputs are a chain of rubbish before coming up with something worth reading.

In moments of which, there is only one prescription. It’s hard and uncomfortable but it needs to be done anyway if you do not want inactivity to undermine your soul:

Just write.


Image result for insomnia

She doesn’t want me beside her
said I snore out loud
ruins her night sleep
in addition to her insomnia.
I don’t know what to do
with my snoring
nor with my kids’
But if only I can lend her
one of my greatest gifts
which is to sleep
regardless of the sounds of the night
or elbows
or knees
hitting all my sides.
If only I can…

Well wishes

Image result for man feel good

And just before
I started to work
she hugged me
from behind
and whispered
in my ear
as she
clutched me tight
I could die
of asphyxiation:
“I hope you’d be filled
to the brim
and your entire system
with dopamine,

And because
of that
I told myself:
well if that ain’t
a nice way
to say
“screw you!”
I don’t know

First thing a writer should learn is how not to give a fuck

Image result for dont give a fuck

What you give yourself and what you think you are giving them

A few likes and occasionally, some comments. It doesn’t matter. Maybe it did before, but it hardly has any potent impacts to the stubborn writer in me anymore.

I’ve been writing for around 7 years already in this semi-private blog. Semi-private because of the number of my readership is analogous to the number of people reading a private person’s diary. Despite those dismal views, blogging never came short of a variety of personal experiences for me as a writer. I’ve had some occasional highs when there were a lot of interactions and a whole lot of lows when nobody seemed to care at all about how I feel based on what I’ve written.

But I’ve already learned to deal with it despite that there are still a lot of instances that I got pissed off by the indifference of the world. Practice makes perfect anyway, right? And I’ve gotten used to the fact that in most of what I’ve written, they were met with deafening silence except for occasional swarm of crickets, both in this blog and in my social media accounts.

Well, that’s your audience’s choice. Remember that no response from them is also a form of response. After all, you are responsible for your self-expression and the things that make you sane, not them.

With the exception of course if the mode of that self-expression involves breaking a law or endangering the life of your fellow. You know what I mean. So if you’ve matured enough as a writer, you should’ve finally realized that it’s not the likes nor the comments why you were writing in the first place: and that is to regularly try to calm the raging storm within you by channeling it so you bleed ink instead of bleeding your lifeline.

What they actually receive

It is one thing to be able to express yourself. How it’s going to be received is completely another story and something which either you have very little control of or something that you can totally do nothing about.

People can only interact as far as their level of comprehension is concerned. Your ideas, grand as they are, if they land on a mind that is incapable of nurturing grand ideas, then it is most likely that they will be met with scorn, like throwing pearls to the pigs.

There are however, objective readers who are mature enough to temporarily set aside their biases in order to see your point. They can further improve your initial ideas by pitching in their objective observations or healthy criticisms. And then there are those who will opt to see what they only wanted to see in what they are reading. Hence some comments may seem like they enjoy what you have written but in reality, what you wrote just reminded them of something funny or remarkable from their past experiences which sometimes is not totally related with what you said. (Talk about getting elated when you thought you finally got your message across, only to find out that they completely missed it by a mile!)

There are those who will tell you how much you suck, oftentimes devoid of explanations whatsoever. You will never be good enough and nothing that you say or write will come at par with their insatiable “exquisite” standards. Good luck if you wish to persist in trying to impress them nonetheless.

How people react is a mirror of who they are inside. Most of the time, it’s not you who have a problem. It’s them and you can do nothing to change that. So it would be wise if your happiness is not dependent on how your audience will react. Because doing so almost always ends up tragically.

So shut up and just fucking write!

There’s no other way to put it best but to just fucking do it. If you can’t help but be bothered by voices outside of your self, don’t fucking write at all. In trying to improve yourself as a writer and a person, it is inevitable that some people will get offended by whatever reasons. So be it. Think of yourself getting better in the process and the other person who will benefit from what you’ve written. You’ll never know. Someone might be badly in need of what you have to say.

Write for those who are silent, those who will not give a like or leave a comment, and even those who will not likely speak with you face to face. They may deny you as the writer, but they can never deny the truth and the connection it made with their souls.

Regarding the critics, look at the light of what they are saying. If it makes sense, improvise. If it does not in anyway benefit you, shut out the noise and let them howl ’til kingdom come. It isn’t criminal for them to yak their brains out but it isn’t their right to impose anything on you either.

It’s either your growth or, your perceived “sanctity” of the opinion of others. Choosing one would neglect the other. It’s your choice to make.

Lessons learned while walking on eggs

Image result for walking on eggs

Recognize those who stood by you through thick and thin. They are the so-called angels in the outfield. They are the ones who are worth sticking with.

But you should also acknowledge that not all people would be willing to lend a genuine helping hand.

There are those who will remain silent when you have done something worth of a pat on the back or at least some simple words such as “keep it up”. While some may appreciate any form of cognizance of their efforts, there are those who prefer to avoid the spotlight and opt to just work in the corner, relatively unknown like an essential cog in a complex machine. They are more happy and fulfilled that way.

And the same people who were mostly silent on your share of good times with them, would be the quickest to cry for your crucifixion the moment you commit the slightest, even trivial mistakes which would have been easily resolved by a simple talk. Instead of helping you out as an initial reaction, they conspire against you to come up with all the “just” reasons why you do not fit in which is enough to get you kicked out.

Beware of such people because they are the ones who don’t want to have anything to do with you. They will stay silent during still waters but they will be the first to throw you overboard when the slightest tempest rocks the boat.

“Sir, I’ve Come to Tell You I’d Marry Your Daughter…”


(Circa February 2017)

I come in peace sir. I did not come to stir trouble, albeit I cannot guarantee that I can leave your emotions untouched.

I must admit that you’ve done one hell of a job raising Yen sir. She’s intelligent, spontaneous, lovely, responsible, emphatic, and very passionate with what she does. I know she was and still is your princess, and the way you treat her is like she’s the next best thing in life before life itself.

And so here I’ve come to tell you that she is now my princess and my life too. And this time I’d want her to be my queen.

I know you have been dreading that a day would come when a whacko would come to face a multi-decorated life veteran like yourself and ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage.

And yes sir the day has come and that day is today. And I am that whacko in front of you.

I’d have to hold her responsible for what I’ve become though. I‘d say that it’s pretty much her fault I became that whacko because she turned my life around. I’m not a drifter before we met but I’d say that things went falling in their right places when I met her and I can’t believe what I’m actually seeing that I thought I was going crazy.

Turns out yes, I’ve become crazy. I am totally crazy about her.

Yen’s the answer to my prayers sir and I know deep within that I would end up in an insane asylum if she doesn’t become my lifetime friend and partner and the mother of my children.

She had been my saving grace and my last reason to keep believing when there’s nothing left to believe in. Sure she can get overbearing sometimes, nagging, and ultra critical but I’d still want to marry that part of her nonetheless.

I feel fear as of this moment sir. Not because I’ve done or I’m about to do anything wrong to her, but because of the thought that I’d have to meet her hero in person.

But please don’t take it against me if I say that there’s something more frightening than being here in front of you right now – and that is to live my life without Yen. And as such I decided to muster every ounce of courage in me to face you and the entire army before you and ask you to please accompany Yen to exchange vows with me in front of the altar.

I love Yen so much sir. She means my life to me. She is and will always be the embodiment of joy in this world. She’s the one who proved to me that love is more than just an ideal concept portrayed by media and printed on paper. And nothing of these would have been possible without you showing her first the essence of love and what it means to be loved when she was yet a little darling in your arms.

Please allow me to love her for a lifetime sir. Please allow me to be a part of your circle that protects her, loves her, cherishes her, and nurtures her wonderful unique personality.

I am looking forward to seeing traces of you on our mini-versions that will fill our humble home with love and laughter. I would also like to ask you sir to please help me become a good father to our future children just like how you are right now with her.

Would you please say yes, sir? Dad, please?

You Are That Pearl

“Know your worth.”

Associate only with people who knows how to value you, including those who genuinely helps you grow.

And when people disrespect and undermine you such that you begin to question your value, learn to discern whether you must stay and fight for what you deserve or to just turn around and walk away.

Never, not even for a second, look down on yourself in the same way that they look down on you.

And spare your soul by not wasting yourself to those who do not appreciate. Even the Bible is very clear on this as it was written in Matthew 7:6 (NIV) “…do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet…”

You are that pearl.

Read that last line again but this time substitute “I am” for “You are”. Read it again. Slowly. Regularly. Forcefully.

Boomer Journals 5 – That One Downside of Learning to Play the Guitar

How to Play Acoustic Blues Guitar – Berklee Online Take Note
credit goes to whoever owns this photo

The type of voice that I envied when I was younger was a deep bass voice. I thought it would have been much cooler rather than this baritone, especially when in a choir.

By the way, is it at all possible to train your voice to reach a lower range? I thank heavens that I didn’t have any of it if ever there were such lessons.

Then I learned to play the guitar. I never attained the caliber of Kirk Hammet or Slash by the way, despite that I’ve been aching for a kick ass talent such as theirs. But I can proudly say that I’m much better than someone who just started to hug the six-string.

Videoke would have been perfect but it wasn’t that common back then. Our only access to music was either by radio or Walkman. Or by means of a six-string which I immediately indulged myself into. 

I thought it was already cool to be able to jam with a six-string, to sing and all that, be it in a crowd or in one’s alone time. I was even able to enhance it to a certain extent.

And then I discovered a problem. It wasn’t a big deal at first but it had been bugging the hell out of me ever since for years:

I couldn’t sing most of the songs I love in the same pitch as the original singer’s. If I ever do finish a song, it is with a lot of difficulty. That difficulty I attribute to playing the guitar.

Why? You see, there is a standard tune for the key of C, for example, which of course you will never be able to tune your guitar into unless you have a tuned piano nearby. In most cases, people (me included) don’t care at all if the key of C isnt the same as the standard so long as you can enjoy the moment and cajole the instrument to your heart’s content. So the pitch where you sing the song becomes totally different from the pitch of the original.

And only when you sing along with the radio or in a videoke will you realize that you’ve been duped into believing that you can sing like Steve Perry. Depressing isn’t it? 

Maybe if I just focused all my juvenile energies back then trying to improve my range instead of learning to play the guitar, I now would have been singing ala Moriuchi Takahiro, Brandon Boyd, Zach dela Rocha, or the front man of the attached video, eh?

Boomer Journals 4 – Cartoons er… Uh-nuh-meis

Hajime No Ippo Chapter 1309 Release Date, Recap, Spoilers, & Where to  Watch? - World-Wire

You got caught in the gut.

You swore you saw that coming, the famed diabolical fist emerging from the side. At first, the sight of his right cross was nothing but a mere pathetic weather disturbance. But in only a split second you know fully well that it will turn into a category IV hurricane which devastates everything it landed on based on history. And now it’s headed in full force towards your defenseless midsection.

For a fraction of a second you inhaled, in an attempt to stiffen your core to hopefully mitigate the resulting damage from the incoming devastating blow.

Then his fist made contact, and it was much more powerful than the hell you expected it to be. Suddenly there was a vacuum out of nowhere. All the air stored in your lungs got sucked away in an instant. And that vacuum now threatens to suck your soul as well, like a blackhole tearing piece by piece his captive star, an unfortunate unwitting victim who dared to cross the event horizon of no return.

As your legs buckled, you started to go down. Your eyesight fading slowly. You saw your opponent grinning, cocky sure that he finally put your lights out as he bid you his final ‘sweet dreams’.

You are sure as hell to hit the canvass any second from now. Strange but you momentarily forgot the pain from the impact until you realized you’re caught in a flashback. Once again you saw the reasons why you decided to turn pro: your mom, hands together praying for your safety; your siblings expecting the championship belt from you; and the instance you finally decided to own your life and become the warrior you always envisioned yourself to be.

After like an hour of being suspended in mid air, you decided it was too soon to give up. Suddenly, your legs regained their strength that once again established your balance.

On your way up, your right fist started to launch like a rocket, accelerating from zero to devilish speeds in a split second. Your opponent whose feet were grounded in fear upon seeing the dead rise again, can only gasp in horror as you gave him a dose of his own medicine when you hit him with all you’ve got in the midsection and throwing him five meters from you in the process, his body giving a loud thud as it kissed the canvass good night. 

There he lays on his back, oblivious to the ten counts of the referee and hands waiving in the air signifying that it’s all over. Panting hard, you still can’t believe you came out of that alive and yet you were there, finally a title holder and it wasn’t a dream!

X – X – X – X – X

It’s hilarious recalling these moments from this cartoon [relax, triggered weebs and otakus, it’s “uh-nuh-mei” right? XD]

But it sure brings back good old childhood memories, including the opening sound track. Who says only American rock can only produce this much hype? You’re missing out if you don’t get to hear J-Rock! 

Stepping Stones

In order to go sky high, you first need to experience how it is to fall down south. Hard. It’s inevitable as gravity itself.

With much ado and denial, we painfully learn as we look back that there are no such thing as shortcuts. It’s a universal law that we have to undergo step by fucking step: we will suck at first, then manage to stay afloat, and eventually excel.

After all, there is no such thing as failure as the saying goes. Sometimes we win, sometimes we learn.

The beloved sons and daughters of Mephistopheles

Even those who caused us unimaginable heartaches have so much to teach us. Yes, including those who perplexed our souls such that we started to question why on earth was murder considered a sin in the holy scriptures in the first place.

And we have to realize that just like circumstances, these people, which we were certain to be related by blood with Mephistopheles, were sent to purify us, and were meant to prepare us to become our best selves that we are today.

A much more fun presentation

Stairway to Heaven | Portions Library | Torah Portions

Okay, if you’re not at all consoled by all that cosmic shit, you can put it this way: instead of stepping stones, treat it as if you’re stepping on the necks of all the assholes, and dickheads, and bitches who gave you a hell of a time.

Imagine them all lined up, their necks serving as your footstools as you ascend your path from the abyss where you came from up to the dizzying heights where you are right now.

And rather than quickly ascending to your culmination, imagine that you are dancing on your way up, angels singing and clapping on either side, while you are taking your sweet time jumping and spinning and going to the next, just before the previous “footstool” gags.

Test results

Time for a pop quiz:

Tom Hardy webs up a Venom behind the scenes featurette video

If the above presentation caused you to salivate that you drooled the way Venom does, obviously you should keep on searching for that elusive inner peace.

But if you just chuckled a bit and told yourself that you are exactly where you ought to be and that everything that transpired was meant to strengthen you including the people who prematurely put you through hell whilst you are still alive, well, you finally upgraded to a whole new level. Keep that fuck up!

Don’t Hug the Hag

Be careful who you cling to
or who you choose to hug
lest you see her true self
the horrible hag

Whose breath of death reeks
and the foulest of odors
a blood-full rusty blade encased in sheath
and in one’s unwitting moment
at the back she’ll surely stab
and the poor soul
she’ll voraciously devour

She has not a genuine care
fake as her smile
and hollow laughter
that causes Hades
to fear and stutter
ye are all indispensable
heir to her kingdom of fire
but only up until
you give her her share

Get out of her, children
while you still can
before you totally soak up her ways
and be evil for the rest of your days
Tarry not
get out of her fold
for her lips speak of death
and horrors untold

Because the hag has
the ultimate crown:
the bitch
and the witch
all rolled into one

INFJ Pisces Characteristics

eyesmelikeapisces Instagram posts (photos and videos) - Picuki.com

(Copied from a Facebook comment. It just hit home that’s why.)

INFJ PISCES – An INFJ who is Pisces probably spends a lot of time immersed in the sea of their imagination.

The INFJ intuitive qualities will likely be more pronounced and the dreams they experience are vivid and full of symbolism and metaphor.

This person is probably highly creative and sensitive with a tendency to take things very personally.

The INFJ Pisces is deeply compassionate and they possess a sage-like wisdom and spiritual insight that is valuable to others.

Their naive and impressionable natures make them more susceptible to falling prey to the guiles of dishonest folks.

They may have difficulty observing things objectively and get blinded by their idealistic vision of what they hope to be.

INFJ Pisces is very tolerant and accepting but they may not be great judges of character.

They may be particularly subject to mood swing and bouts of depression.

They can fall victim to self-defeating and self-sabotaging thoughts and behavior.

They may need the influence of a more dominant personality to keep them in check and nurture them with positivity and love.

The INFJ Pisces is hard to pin down and can be like chameleons taking on the qualities of the people around them.

They tend to absorb other’s energy both negative and positive and so it is especially important for them to stay away from toxic people.

Kulas de Malas

It is believed that the noise created by fireworks and other merry making means during Christmas season and especially on New Year’s Eve can ward off bad luck or “malas”.

So if you’re wondering why on earth does your neighbor’s blaring speakers are aimed towards your house all year round, do understand that he’s just trying to make sure that, well…

The Killing Cross

(Circa April 2016)

“The sound of my gun is my music.”

Perched unknown atop a tree
In a city turned rubbles, lost in the debris
White in the snow, ready to pounce
Concealed in the shadow, all set to trounce.

Clutched in my hands, my lifeline and friend
Ammos in check, scope and armor in perfect blend
It’s them or me, it ain’t a choice
My rifle – my unmuffled voice.

The hunter balks ever so patiently
Stalking the blind and unwitting prey
A couple of inch is all it takes
You’ll forever sleep in scattered bits.

The cross is forever etched in my vision
Resting on the temple, buried in the bosom
This is the world, all the world to me
The trigger’s your switch, concludes your destiny.

Never blink even for a split second
The scarlet dot’s in between your eyes
Or a crown, a tiny crimson one
The reaper’s scythe all set to smite.

Temple by temple, one click at a time
Like dominoes, inanimately turn grime
Chests popping, heads exploding
“It ain’t gonna be me, ain’t gonna be mine!”

Forgive me brother ‘tis not my will
It’s all for peace, for good to be still
You’re not evil, I’m neither saint
They’re waiting, my child and my girl, with hope not faint.

Now take a breath, take all you can
Don’t blink, be whist and be sober
Eyes wide open or shut real tight
One cock and pull, and it’s all over.

Forgive me if you’re all over…

The Return of the Crowd of Grumblers

credit goes to the owner of the photo

“Maski mga di binaha nakipila tapos sila pa yung mareklamo.”

So went the post in our subdivision’s homeowners Facebook page referring to what happened during the distribution of relief goods through the local parish. Luckily, we’re in a certain part of the subdivision which was left untouched by floods due to the previous typhoon. For some reason, even our neighbors who were not directly affected by the calamity nor desperately in need of relief goods were present during the distribution and they were the ones being referred to as the grumblers.

I wondered why of all people present, those who were more fortunate were the ones who had the gall to grumble and behave as entitled brats instead of responsible adults.

Sure everyone has his/her own reasons why they were present in the queue. Perhaps their supplies at home were already low or they have financial difficulties. But the grumbling part, well, I don’t know how to make sense out of which.

One possible reason that I can think of is people expect equality over equity. Regardless of the situation and individual circumstances, everyone should receive equal items. That means anyone should receive the same grocery and relief items as everyone else. The severely affected could have been given something more and better if those who can still manage will yield for their less fortunate fellows.

Another plausible explanation is, because they may not have yet experienced how to be humbled by any experience, disaster or otherwise, in which you will consider everything given to you as a blessing and gratitude is the only fitting response.

It was only then that I fully understood what Pope Francis meant when he said giving is not enough. We also have to experience to be on the receiving end and that is to receive humbly and graciously from both God and people, with no grumbling involved.

Fuck The Soulmate Mentality!

Heart Shaped Necklaces For Couples-you Complete Me Sweet Heart | Heart  shaped necklace, Relationship necklaces, Necklace for girlfriend

Love with our significant other is like a heart-shaped jigsaw puzzle made up of two pieces. And due to the novelty of our experiences together, each puzzle piece have intricate, unique patterns that can fit perfectly to only one piece.

But what people fail to realize is that  it’s not just a trial and error fitting spree. It involves the painful process of refining the edges, cutting an edge to accommodate the other piece, and extending some parts to fill the gaps of the other.

The interesting thing is, this gap that we’re trying to fill in order to piece together this puzzle, is dynamic. Such that, the patterns change in our lifetime and thus the process of cutting, welding, and grinding are perennial processes necessary to keep the love puzzle in perfect fit.


Praise Aleluya!

Horse Rider on Cliff Silhouette. Silhouette of a horse rider on a cliff at  sunse , #Ad, #Cliff, #Silhouette, #Horse, #Rider, #cliff #a… | Horse rider,  Horses, Rider
“Jeez! What’s that word again?!”

A man is receiving instructions on how to navigate with his peculiar newly-bought horse.

“When you want it to move, say ‘Praise Aleluya!’ And to stop, say ‘Aamen’ got that?”

“Roger that,” said the man and shouted “praise aleluya” and got his horse galloping in no time.

“Aamen, Aamen,” the man said testing the “breaks” pulling the horse to a complete stop.

“Cool!” he muttered to himself.

And so the man, to his joy, traversed through the meadows with his horse lost in his thoughts about his good fortune, when he realized that he’s heading right straight to a 200-foot cliff.

Panic-stricken, the man desperately tried to remember the word for stop when suddenly he managed to shout “Aamen!” just in time for the horse to stop in it’s next step into the jagged rocks below.

“Whew!” cried the man in relief while holding high his right fist. “I know I count on You.

And I can never thank you enough Lord. PRAISE ALELUYA!!!”

Boomer Journals 3 – Power Outages Expose the Buck Nakedness of Our Souls

Why Did My Power Go Out? Four Ways the Grid Can Fail and Cause an Outage -  Union of Concerned Scientists

A couple of predicaments we faced the morning after a hell of a night of a ferocious typhoon: the lack of water and electricity. It would have been manageable if at least the water supply was spared even if the power is out. The typhoon however, had been too kind not to take one without the other.

So we had no water and no electricity. That’s fine. At least the roof stayed intact despite the sustained strong winds, flood never made it inside the house and most importantly there’s food.

But of course one must not get stuck on either feeling sorry or overwhelming gratitude. You gotta get going because life must, well you know, go on.

No H2O

Thankfully we had more than enough drinking water so consequently, cooking isn’t going to be an issue. Except that you will need something to wash the dishes, the “kaserola” and the “kaldero“. And(!), to flush the pungent toilet bowl saturated with piss. Not to mention the dreaded instance when you have to answer an urgent call from nature.

The good news though was that our neighbors from the adjacent village offers potable water. The bad news is, it was 50 meters or so from our house and I have nothing but sheer muscle power.

I can’t help but remember my childhood when I used to fetch water from a pump well, pail by pail until the 150 liters container is filled including the “kambong” or “tapayan“, an earthen drinking water container.

What Are the Best Water Purification Systems For Home Use? - Page 4
“kambong” in Iloko and “tapayan” in Tagalog

Those required serious muscle moments as well.

While I seem to reminisce those memories with relish, those were unpleasant but necessary chores essential to maintain the balance of everyday living. But even if it was uncool, they taught me a lot about the nuts and bolts of existence. Those were instances where you don’t have a choice but to embrace the suck that comes with it and utter expletives inorder to let off steam.

There’s plenty of time to do that anyway, while hauling water from a distance. If there’s one thing you will be proud to rediscover about yourself and humanity in general, it is the fact that we are natural polyglots when it comes to the sweet science of swearing.

No electric current

My phone’s battery went dead so I couldn’t keep myself busy online to temporarily forget about our misery.

I don’t mind that I didn’t know what’s happening online. I can live with that anyway. And besides, there are more pressing issues such as having dinner before dark and getting ourselves ready for bed before sundown in order to extend the life of a lone candle up until 8:00 PM.

We have trees all around our small house so humidity is not an issue. Mosquitoes are but a minor annoyance as well, thanks to our “moskiteros” which also serve as balms to our feet.

Netizens are talking About this “Medyas na kulambo,” Designed for People  who Can't Sleep Without Mosquito Nets on their Feet – PTAMA.NET

It’s been years if not decades since I experienced days on end without electricity. But at least I have those past experiences to tap into so I knew exactly what to expect. The kids however do not have anything at all except this one, their first time.

It’s tough to see them lamenting about our predicament. But at least they now have their first ever experience of what it feels like without power.

Those two nights were dark and quiet with only a few lit candle sticks illuminating homes in our neighborhood. Not eerie though but peaceful. Flashbacks of farm life flooded my consciousness where we had to go to bed before 8:00 in the evening. I got used to it before that I can say I enjoyed the dark, the sound of crickets, the stories needed to get us drowsy, and the company of family.

Finally – and there was light

It took three days and two nights before power was restored. The water supply however took more than a week after to go back to normal.

The momentary absence of electricity and water supply can teach a lot about ourselves. Yes, the absence of our basic comforts can be a blessing if only show our nakedness. We are closer to our souls when our attachments which we often mistook as our main identity and the end all and be all of our being, are lifted off our shoulders. For some, power interruption is enough to get their souls buck naked. For others, it would take more than that to expose their nakedness.

And then there was light, finally.

My reflections borne out of blackout and interrupted water service served me well towards another illuminated outlook at life as well as a short-lived entertainment. But of course, along with everybody else, this boomer was glad the electricity was back!

Boomer Journals 2 – Of Heaven and Angels

White coat | Nurse outfit scrubs, Beautiful nurse, Nursing fashion

Without cellular phones back in the days, what we’re left with to entertain ourselves most of the time is our imagination. They often come in handy, regardless if you’re asleep or not. Those momentary respites from reality can be disturbing but still something to be thankful for nonetheless, because they provided entertainment.

Just like that one time while I was driving somewhere in Cubao. I saw this chic, a beautiful lady behind the wheels. The mere sight of her casted a spell on me that I instantaneously followed her car. I just noticed a second too late as I was making a turn that another vehicle is speeding towards me, tires screeching, horns blaring, and all. And it was lights out after that.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the hospital. Things were a bit gray and I’m a bit groggy but I remember seeing mom by my side. She assured me that my attending physician is her personal choice and that I’d be alright.

Just as I was struggling to get myself together, the nurse in full regalia of an angel in white and the face and body of Aphrodite’s proportion entered and was headed towards me. And even as I am yet in delirium, I managed to ask her:

“♬♪Ale, nasa langit na ba ako?♩♪♫♬”