Last Entry for the Year

I talk too much. But of course, you already know that. Maintaining this blog kept me going through everything I went through the past year. That’s more than I care to admit. What else can I say except thank you! Thanks for hearing me out. I hope you’d continue to share your stories and insights as well. A great and happy 2008 to you and your loved ones!

xoxo Thad

My Last Trip to Baguio

Hanapin mo kung saan ako. Sirit? Hehe I’m the boy in the black shoes with no socks, green shirt, and hand-me-down blue jacket, looking like Jolina Magdangal on a bad hair day. Lol! Ok, so I won’t win best dressed award, but this trip in 1987 (after EDSA revolution, and just before the great earthquake that razed the Hyatt to the ground) was one of the best memories I had in my childhood.

I’ve always had a couple of screws loose, which made everything quite interesting. Tooth-pulling, boxing, and championing Chinese garter games were my “thing”. What a hoot!

There and Back Again: The Arduous Trip to Maasin

It was my fault. I thought the trip from Tacloban to Maasin, Southern Leyte was a mere 2-3 hours, so I made no preparations at all. Wearing only my PE T-shirt and jeans, and bringing only my digital camera for the task my father assigned me to do (plus a tiny mp3 player with earphones permanently attached to my ears), I went to the station to meet with my sister-in-law with my nephew.

The sky was overcast, and we waited about 30 minutes for the bus. The ride to Abuyog (my father’s hometown, where my in-law was headed to) was uneventful. The real trouble started when I took the bus to Maasin. From the town of Abuyog, there were no more vans available, only rickety buses coming from Tacloban which are usually filled to the brim with passengers.

I took a seat nearest to the door, the hard bench pressing against my bottom (which by the way, was only seated halfway because the man next to me was the size of an ogre and his ass claimed 75% of the bench area). I gritted my teeth and decided to just endure the ride. The problem was that the bus kept stopping and adding more passengers (I wondered where they planned to put them) and at one particular stop, an old lady got in.

I tapped her on the shoulder. “Lola, didi nala.” I said, offering her my seat. She smiled and took the seat. Meanwhile, it had begun to rain so they closed most of the windows. I was afraid I’d throw up, sandwiched by other passengers at the middle of the narrow aisle.

Finally at the stop in Baybay, a seat was available. I saw this particular side that was vacated. As the bus started to move forward, I realized why no people sat there- the seat in front of me was on top of the huge engine and the seat I was sitting on radiated heat. Great, I thought, I’d be lechon by the time I get to Maasin. I tried to sleep it off, but the seat was really uncomfortable. Ask my ass- she isn’t happy.

I arrived at my destination four hours later, with my bladder so distended I had goosebumps on my arms. I found a clean restroom and peed an entire river. As if on queue, my phone emptied its battery and now I’m stuck in a city I’ve only been to once when I was ten, with no contact with my cousins.

“Excuse me, asa dire pwede mag-charge?” I asked haltingly in the best bisaya I could muster (Waray dialect is different from bisaya, by the way). I negotiated with the lady in the eatery that I’d pay her an amount if she allowed me to charge my phone just enough to make a phone call. She agreed.

Finally, my cousins came and rescued me. We went to the two-storey property that was in the family for generations; my father had wanted me to look at as he was thinking of having the place renovated into a commercial space. So, being sent as the “architect” (note the quotation marks) I did my sketches and took photos and everything I remembered about site analysis.

The fun part came after the task, where Manong gave me a tour of the city. Cacao Mountain Resort with its falls was particularly lovely, so was the beautiful restaurant overlooking the pier. The city also boasted of a 17th century church and a Museum of Art and History, but the most noteworthy was the image of the Assumption of Mary perched on a hill overlooking the city. Think Rio de Janiero’s Christ the Redeemer (on a smaller scale, of course).

When evening came, I was confronted with the problem of accommodations. My cousins were worried I won’t be comfortable with the “boyscout set-up” they had despite my insistence, so they found me a place that was air conditioned. I would have wanted to stay at Cacao, but I didn’t bring my ATM card and I only brought 500 bucks (thinking I’d be home by the end of the day).

I left very early the next day, just leaving a note for my cousins. Unwashed, tired, and disheveled, I finally made my way to the highway to catch the bus to Tacloban.

6 more hours of bus ride, good luck to me!

Tagay!

The Best of Me

I know that’s a song title. Lol! For some reason, I’ve been a little pensive these days. Listening to love songs, sitting on my bed and just going through my old things (you see, I was in the process of cleaning my room).

Grabe, ang bilis ng panahon- mag 2008 na pala ano? That means I also turn 28 next year. I still can’t believe it. So this is how it feels to be old! Hahaha sorry, I just got used to being young that I thought I’d be 25 forever. Unless I get into a party where everyone is 40, I don’t think I’d have that feeling back.

This probably also explains why I’ve had these “hormonal surges” telling me to settle down. Let’s face it- I’m already at the marrying age and the best age to have kids (so that if he finishes college I’d still be… 48?). Of course, that remains to be a big question mark. When my Lola asks when I’m getting married- I look at her, and even without explaining the whole ‘I’m queer situation’ I simply and honestly say, “I don’t know.” I really don’t.

In a way, I sort of envy the life of generic straight people. You’re born, you grow up, go to school, have a girlfriend, marry her, have kids, and die. Cut and dried. No coming out, no sneaky dating, no thoughts of IVF. Simple, right?

But despite the whole situation, I was just thinking, there are other things on the table. I still can live a meaningful life without necessarily following the norm. I forget I’m good with weird things and unconventional paths.

So it’s settled then, I’ll carry on this very queer path I’ve taken and still give it 200%.

3 Days, 6 Hours, and 90 Minutes in Ormoc

IV.

I woke up that day feeling as gloomy as the skies had become. Today, this little fairy tale I’ve weaved is about to end.

My sandals were wet, and so was the back of my leg from the rain. Rich wore the same clothes as he did last night. “What are you having for lunch?” He asked.

“Kahit ano.”

He grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. I looked at his face, he was mouthing “Cheer up!”

I smiled. “Kakainis, I have to go back to school and catch up on what I’ve missed.”

“So you regret being here.”

“No. It was worth coming here, I just hate it that it’s ending,”

We were silent while we ate.

I was thinking, perhaps this was just meant to be a great couple of dates and nothing more. A relationship was possible, but with the distance and all- it won’t work.

“You’re quiet again.”

“I’m just a little tired. When are you leaving for Cebu?”

“Bukas pa.”

“Kung wala lang akong unit test I’d stay. Sayang.”

“Next time mas matagal tayo mag-stay. We can go to those beaches in Samar you showed me pictures of.”

“Yeah.” I looked away.

-oOo-
The van was almost full when we arrived at the terminal. Rich handed me my backpack.

“Ingat ka.” He said, smiling.

“You know, I’d kiss you right now, but the guys in the van might beat me up later.” I laughed.

He held my hand for a while.

“Text me when you get home.”

“Sure.”

I get in the passenger seat and gave him a wave.

He waved back and smiled at me. I shut the door just as the van started moving. I hugged my backpack close to my chest and stared at the distance.

-End-

My Wedding Song, if Ever

(Sniff)My good friend is getting married next year. I sure hope she doesn't steal this one!

The Problem with Dating Someone "Out of Your League"

Picture this: you are finally having a date with your dream guy and you just can’t stop fidgeting. You worry about every damn cute guy (or a woman, if he is straight) who would enter the room and catch his attention.

You manage a smile when one of his friends come by, but start to panic once the friend acts as if they’re ex-lovers. Or were they really? You wonder. Meanwhile you double check your fingernails to see if they are dirt-less, then you pick up a spoon and try to desperately get a glimpse of your reflection. Is my hair still in place?

You hang on to his every word, thinking of a witty reply. You sigh with relief, once you manage to say something to his liking.

“Excuse me.” You say, leaving for the restroom the nth time to make sure there’s nothing stuck between your teeth, or perhaps a drop of sauce on your shirt. How embarrassing that would be!

When you return you think of other things you can discuss that you have in common- music perhaps? Movies? Wait, we already talked about that. Then oops, suddenly you spilled your drink on the table.

You make a joke out of it and try not to catch even more attention. Then, nearing the end of your dinner, you get nervous about how the date would end. If he kisses me, should I kiss him back? Or maybe not.

You finally decide to head home, and he waits for you to get a taxi. “I had a good time.” He smiles.

“Me too.” You say politely, too afraid to make a move.

The taxi pulls over. He leans towards you and you move your face towards his awkwardly to kiss him on the cheek.

As the taxi pulls off the curb, you breathe a sigh of relief.

Bzzzz! You check your phone, which you’ve set on vibrate. It’s him!

Dream date: Nytnyt! I’ll see you again soon.

Your reply: I had a great time too. It was great seeing you tonight.

Maybe he does like you, you think, otherwise he won’t be texting you now. Bzzzz! It’s your bestfriend calling.

“How was your date?” You slump back on the seat of the car.

“Exhausting!”

3 Days, 6 Hours, and 90 Minutes in Ormoc

III.

His hand felt warm, and felt nice to snuggle up to him inside the cold theater. Boy, if only I was still in my reckless phase I would have grabbed something else by now.

Through the darkness I saw the shape of his face- those lips that were in half a smile, his lashes, his slightly unruly hair. Right then, I just wanted the moment to freeze. Me in the arms of a guy I really like.

“I’m a little hungry, let’s get some food.”

“Sure, I say.” I walked quietly beside him. I let go of his hand after we went out of the theater lest I elicit curious stares from people. He put his arm on my shoulder and squeezed.

I look up and smiled at him. I know that look, and I know what that meant.

“Take out na lang tayo ha. Wanna go to my place afterwards?”

“Yeah.” He said, as we approached the counter.

-oOo-


We barely got through the door when he started kissing me. Oh gosh, I forgot how good it felt to have a man take me in his arms. I kissed him back, and roughly removed his jacket (just like in the movies!).

“Have you called your relative’s house yet? Are going to stay- ”

He kissed me again. Heck, let his folks worry about him later, Gracia na ito! I laughed to myself.

I put his t-shirt over his head ad start kissing his chest. When I look up a moment, I saw his eyes were closed, cheeks flushed, and lips parted.

I grab his belt, and kiss him as I unbuckle it.

He pulls up my shirt and sucks on my nipple. “Oh man.” My heart pounded. This is it- the point of no return. I kissed him again before I go down on him.

-oOo-

He already dozed off when my phone buzzed. I ignored it, and snuggled closer to him.

I’m so happy! I thought, resting my head on his shoulder. Through the glass windows, I saw the stars were gone, and it had begun to rain.

Job Posting: Full Time Dad

Are we ever really ready for a job like parenting? Five minutes ago, I was feeding my ten month old nephew Gavin (who made a complete mess of his high chair, by the way) and I imagined myself what it would be like if he were my son. The first reaction would probably be panic. I was there when little Gavin was born, and when I saw him for the first time I was a little alarmed with his cone head (the sutures on infant’s skulls are not really “sealed” allowing it to be pliable as the baby passes through the birth canal). My heart pounded, thinking that it was some sort of abnormality, but of course I’d later learn that this was not unusual at all.

The first time I held him in my arms I was afraid I’d break him. I walked slowly- afraid I’d trip and fall to the floor and hurt this bundle of joy. When his fist grabbed my index finger my heart simply melted. I’ve never seen a creature so pure. Every difficult circumstance- my brother getting my sister-in-law accidentally pregnant and his reluctance in marrying her, my grandmother’s indifferent attitude at the time, and my late mother’s frustration at my brother’s behavior- they all simply dissipated. His innocence wiped away everything that was negative. Truly, being given a child is a gift.

I’ve considered being a single parent- that would not be such a bad deal. Even in straight relationships, how many couples actually do get married? And for those who marry, how many of them actually do stay together? Single parents are all over the place. On one side, you have the advantage of never having a partner hurt you again, because you already have that little person who will love you. Still, the biggest disadvantage of being a one-man team is having the burden of providing food and clothing, raising and parenting your child, not to mention shouldering the cost of education of your child from Kindergarten to College all by yourself.

Maybe we all have this instinct that is imbedded in all of us that enables us to care for our young. Having the full-time responsibility in caring for one’s child, whether you are a single parent, or a couple, married or unmarried, would take an enormous amount of effort. But judging from the delight in their faces at seeing their kids grow and take steps toward becoming grown-up individuals- it’s probably worth it. How do I know? I used to see that same look on my late parent’s faces, especially when I’ve done something right.

Why Do I Still Get Misty When I See This?

3 Days, 6 Hours, and 90 Minutes in Ormoc

II.

“Been here long?”

The speaker was an attractive chinito wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

“Richard?” I asked.

“Yup.” He smiled.

I was suddenly shy. Damn, looked cute! I ran my fingers self-consciously through my hair.

“Kain tayo.” I pointed to the burger and fries on the table.

“So it’s your first time in Ormoc?” He smiled.

“Not really, daan lang several times on the way to Cebu.”

“I grew up here, bago mag-college.”

“Saan?”
“San Carlos.”

“So, saan mga nice places dito sa Ormoc?”

He rubs his finger on his chin. “We could have a picnic at the beach..”

“White sand ba?”

“Nah.”

“Sayang, kung malapit lang Samar we could go there instead. The beaches are pristine and absolutely fantastic. I think I brought my portfolio.” I reach into my backpack and take out the file containing glossy 8R photographs.

“Impressive.” He says, going through the pages.

“These monochromatic shots were taken at Busay Falls in Babatngon. And this…”

I carefully remove one photo from the file. “This is Calicoan Beach in Guiuan.”

“How far is Guiuan from Tacloban?”

“About three hours.”

“So if we come from Ormoc, it’ll take us five hours.” He grins sheepishly.

“More or less. Sayang talaga, if only we had more time I could show you around.” I returned the photo to its place and put the file back in my bag.

“Where to?” I asked.

-oOo-

We ended up going to Orchid Resort. It was a pleasant enough beach- wide expanse of water, gray sand, palm trees, and cottages that dotted the shore.

The cool salty breeze always soothed me, and at a distance I could see a ferry headed for Cebu.

“Let me carry that for you.” Said Richard, grabbing my backpack.

“Thanks Rich.”

I took out my camera and start taking pictures.

“Hey!” He said, covering his face.

“O, bakit?” I laughed.

“Di ata ako didikit dyan. Bihis muna ako.” He gets his shorts from his pack and starts looking for the dressing area.
“Ni wala atang shower area.” I remarked.

He returns to the cottage with his shorts. “Dito ka na magbihis.”

He pulls down his pants and start changing. I grab my camera and start snapping pictures. “For posterity’s sake.” I said, laughing, as he tried to evade the lens.

3 Days, 6 Hours, and 90 Minutes in Ormoc

I.

Ever since meeting him in person, I’ve had this weird melancholy feeling each time I see his face. The same sort of emotion I felt watching the opening sequence of Sunday Night Specials on TV when I was younger, just before the featured Hollywood movie starts. It would be a great film, for sure, yet I had this feeling of dread that it would be over soon. The magic would soon dissipate, and I’d be back to reality, preparing for a hectic Monday.

His name was Richard, and he was a student from Cebu. My spur-of-the-moment trip to Ormoc was a desperate attempt to revive my flagging lovelife. We met through an online site. Our conversation went like this:

Dec 21 17:57

Richard: Rich here, 5’8 fair and fit. Care to be friends?

Me: 25 discreet male (I’ve been 25 yrs old for three years now) here from Tacloban. Cute. Lol!

Richard: Nakapunta na me dun during your city’s fiesta… I like Sto. Nino Shrine and Red Beach

Me: Yeah, the Pintados is a big event out here. Next time ha text me when you get here. 0900 888 8888.


Dec 22 21:17

Richard: Sorry for the late reply, I went offline yesterday. Sure! Text me din if you get to Cebu 0900 999 5555. Are you working already?

Me: Nah, a student. I worked for a while but now I’m taking up Nursing. U?
Richard: Hehe pareho tayi bai, Nursing din course ko, graduating this year.

Me: Uy congrats! Hehe dapat pala magpaturo ako sa’yo.

Richard: Anong subject?

Me: Anatomy ; )

Richard: Hands-on gusto mo? hehe!


Dec 24 03:31

Me: Hey! Online ka pala..
Richard: May surprise ako sa ‘yo

Me: Ano yun?

Richard: Punta ako ng Ormoc next week. I’ll be visiting for three days.

Me: Ormoc is just two hours away by bus from Tacloban.. I have a class though.

Richard: Meet me in Ormoc. It’ll be worth it, I promise.

Me: We’ll see..

What if..

Noble as the teaching profession is, I am not cut out for it, so I’ve never considered it among my career options. But say, if in a parallel universe I somehow become one, I’d probably teach a course that I myself enjoy- like Monochromatic Drawing or Communication Skills (some of the courses I actually look forward to attending, back in Diliman).

The thing I hate the most is repeating myself- I mean one probably would handle at least five classes, right? What am I supposed to do, deliver the same lecture over and over (including punchlines to my jokes)? That was why I refused to be part of the Training department once, at work. They lacked trainers that time, so Team Managers had to fill in temporarily. It was a simple class about certain software which I knew by heart, but twenty minutes into it I was bored out of my wits. I preferred the excitement and tension at the call center floor itself, where the agents actually handled live calls.

Teaching art is easy, I imagine, since students are pre-screened- they need to have the inclination for it. It is just a matter of teaching and applying techniques to broaden the student’s skills.

Comm 1, on the other hand is a requirement for everybody, whether one has an inclination for it or not. I remember my professor, a Jesuit priest who wrote a column for the Today newspaper, he was quite sharp for an old man (probably in his late sixties or early seventies at that time, I’m guessing) and was a delightful speaker. I looked forward to his classes even if it was at 7:00 am on a Monday morning.

I’d probably do the same thing- 70% of the time, the class would be made to compose one essay after another, the rest will be devoted to reading the Classics followed by a discourse after each book.

I’m a lazy person, so my grading method would probably make use of rubber stamps with comments like: “You suck!” (kidding, of course), or “Vanilla” (for those lacking flavor), or perhaps “Sublime!” to those who deserve it. It is probably better to tell it like it is, right? Or perhaps sugarcoat it a bit- “It’s almost there, dearie. You just need to work on your style.” Or maybe just a plain, “Your composition put me in a coma, good thing my cleaning lady revived me.”

Seriously though, I’ve promised one day to volunteer as a teacher at my beloved Leyte National High School. A sort of thank you for all those years of public education. Good Lord, I hope I don’t become one of those teachers who say, “Ok class, kopyahin ang nakasulat sa blackboard at bigkasin ng paulit-ulit hanggang mag-time!”

Surfacing

It had always been my greatest regret, leaving school. I had just turned twenty, and was raring to go and conquer the world despite my unpreparedness. Although I’d already finished my thesis, I still had a couple of back subjects, and at the College of Architecture in UP, this was not an unusual situation at all.

Then my father and I had a huge argument and for months we were not speaking with each other. I decided to look for a job immediately, because my father had cut off his financial support. At that time I had another brother who was going to start college, so I completely understood. Either I go home to the province, or stay and earn money to support myself.

Those were desperate times. Since I was three months behind the rent at my boarding house, I would often sleep over at friend’s houses to lessen the chances of my running into my landlady and having to plead and explain. After a three month wait, I finally got a job.

As I had planned originally, I would study and work at the same time, and so the set up was this: work at night, and go to class in the daytime. Two of my biggest enemies were stress and the lack of sleep. The commute from Diliman to Makati took about three hours, and the long hours at work did little to help. Months passed and I was still able to finish most of my back subjects except one: Hardscape construction. I had become rusty with my drafting skills. I would remember looking around the classroom and seeing a younger batch of students who effortlessly tackled one architectural plate after another, while I struggled with mine.

The first promotion at work brought a new complication to my set up. Of course, I was proud of myself for having been recognized as having potential to lead and manage (three months later I would become one of the youngest team managers in the company at the age of twenty three), but that also meant more responsibilities and more stress. It came to a point where I had to decide to either work full time or study full time, because I could not take the pressure from both. Too proud to ask for help from my parents, I decided to work full time and for the time being, quit school. I reasoned to myself that if I were to remain independent and earn money, work was the way to go- and I was doing very well, indeed.

It was only years later, did I have to clean up the mess I made. Of course, if I could, I’d change my decision, but it was a little late. What I did try to do was careful thinking, an analysis as to what caused me make such an unwise decision.

I call it the “Too-much-too-soon Syndrome”. The compulsion to want something or to make something happen even when I am not ready for it. It had become a pattern for me, even at work.

Two years to being a Team Manager, I was eyeing the Assistant Call Center Manager post, which would not have been a problem at all, had I been ready for the job. Unfortunately Management saw that I still lacked skills in some areas, and I still needed refinement, and so they said no. The problem with me was that by the time I became ready for the job, I already had my eye on something else. If only I stayed just six months more or maybe a year and reapplied, there might have been a good possibility of me getting the job. But no, weeks after being turned down, I decided to take a different direction- and resigned from the company altogether.

Perhaps other factors like family matters (my family migrating to the states without me, for one) might have had some influence on the decisions that I make, but my mistakes usually spring from my lack of patience and inability to commit to something. I want to accomplish so much at once, that I leave out the most important details.

If I am to keep my head above the water, or keep my feet on the ground for that matter, perhaps I need to understand life’s pace. Everything happens at the right moment, and taking shortcuts only means creating complications one has to clean up later on.

I do hope I already learned my lesson well, this time.

Ayaw Paawat

Hmm nag-iilusyon lang pero parang gusto kong sundan ng ikalawa. May concept at title na ako para sa susunod, actually. Both are simply compilations of my favorite posts here (stories, articles, poems, at mga ka-echosan), around 60 of it. All my posts thereafter will be for the "second book" ; ) Tsk tsk ayaw talagang paawat 'no? Gusto ko lang kasi pag wala na yung blog o pag wala na ako (gulp) my stories would still be alive somehow. Charot!

Aggressive Negotiations

“Mano, Leyte Park?”

(Tricycle driver shakes his head)

“Bale duha?”

(Still shakes his head)

“Bale tulo?”

(Stops and thinks)

Finally, I get tired of it and say:

“Bale upat!”

“Sakay na!” He says.

(Hmph may presyo ka rin!)

-------------------------

“Mano, Gaisano?”

(Tricycle driver shakes his head)

A towing car approaches on the east side while a traffic cop on the west side of the street start blowing his whistle at the guy blocking the traffic.

Thad: “Hala! Pulis!”

Tricycle driver: “Sakay na!”

(Hmm, Guilty!)

--------------------------

Thad: “Tagpira ini?”
Vendor: “40 pesos.”

Thad: “May tawad pa?”

Vendor: “35 nala”

I pretend to think.

“30 last price.”

I look away.

“25, sige.”

I flag a jeepney.

“20 nala.”

Thad: “Ok!”

(Bargain! Hehe)

Another Booba Moment

While waiting for the next class, my mates were starting to get rowdy and boisterous. A very strict Prof next door poked her head in the door and reprimanded us:

Stern Professor: “Your class is very noisy!”

Thad: (Not really looking up because I was busy going through my planner) “Thank you, Ma’am.”

Oops.

Arayyy!

A distant male cousin of mine who lived in our house while he worked in Gaisano Tacloban was forced to take a leave of absence because he had mumps. Although this disease is not serious in children, it may cause undesirable effects in adults.

The poor guy eventually lost his job because his absences exceeded more than what was allowed by the department store, so he had to go back to his hometown while he search for a new job. He is fine now, though I didn’t have the heart to tell him that having contracted mumps in adulthood (with painful testicular swelling in male adults), he may already be infertile.

Ouch!

Going Vegetarian

One of the things people do in an attempt to move on from a break up is to change their appearance- get a new haircut, new clothes (this explains the sudden urge to shop after a nasty separation), or even a new body. Perhaps the change gives them a sense of newness- a clean slate to start over. All remnants of who they once were, all the baggage from the past is thrown away.

This New Year, I feel the need to do just that. No, I haven’t ended a relationship, but I just want to leave everything that has been weighing me down- frustrations, apprehensions and all that. Oh, I’ve also meant to leave some adipose tissue behind.

That’s right, I’ve seriously been thinking of losing weight- both for health’s and vanity’s sake (I admit it). Going to the gym hasn’t really worked for me for two reasons: first, my hectic schedule can’t allow me to really linger and do workouts like crazy; second, the first thing I usually crave after a workout is ice cream, soda, and lots of carbohydrates, which in turn puts me right back to square one.

Maybe the sudden surge in muscle activity sent messages to my brain to stock up on fuel. Unfortunately, this happens after the workout itself, and I usually eat like there’s no tomorrow. I need a new approach, and I’m starting with what I eat.

I’ve observed that people who eat veggies most of the time have good bodies and good complexion. I’ve tried that once actually- for about a week I ate nothing but lettuce, apples, raisins, and carrots. My tastes changed after that- soda seemed too sweet for me, and chips too salty. But then, I got stressed with school stuff and I turned to my comfort foods (which included cake, chicken, lechon- you name it) and I was back to square one. Fatty foods are just too damn flavorful!

I’ll start slow- adding more veggies to my diet while not completely eliminating the meat. I don’t think I can go vegan (sorry Mark, I still love my pork humba, seafoods, and chicken in tomato sauce!) but I can cut down on the meat. I’ll do more push ups and home exercises (something I can do daily at home) and swimming (which I enjoy) to increase muscle activity without cramping my schedule.

Wish me luck! My inner critic bets that my resolve will last three days tops!

Shenanigans at a Kiddie Party

Kyla schemes to get a taste of her ate's cake
a softdrink addiction at age 1
Kyla demostrating the proper way na mang-hold up

With my angelic (?) pamangkins Kyla and Gavin hehe Utang lang muna ngayong Pasko, your Tito is broke!
pabitin (adults, please step aside!) a party isn't a party unless someone goes home devastated..

Greek Mythology At Its Best: Visayan-Speaking Heroes

Oh the Shock..

Three events that would make headlines, should they happen:

3. Tricycles complete with neon plastic trimmings traversing Champs Elysees.

2. Champagne sold at school cafeterias.

1. And of course, the classic “swine growing wings and taking flight”

Hmm care to add more?

The Forgotten

My name is Beatrice and I was born blind. I’ve never seen the sun rise, or a flower bloom. I’ve never seen the face of my mother, or even my husband.

I lived in a small hut with no rooms with all of my eight siblings. We never went to school. My father was a farmer, my mother a housewife. They never went to school either.

I’ve never blown a birthday cake when I was young, but I did taste the sweetness of candy once, when my sister brought me some. I was always left inside the house, while my siblings played outside.

When I was seventeen, a young man frequently came to our house, accompanying father. He smelled like the wind on a hot day, and his hands were rough and dry, but they were comforting. One day, he gave me a ring and asked for my hand in marriage.

I was pregnant with our child when my husband became ill. He couldn’t work anymore and we would often go hungry. My mother took me in once more, when my husband died.

A couple adopted my baby shortly after I gave birth to her. She was beautiful, my mother would always say. The couple would visit us often, she promised. But they never came back.

The years went by. My mother and father soon passed. My body had begun to weaken and my gnarled, wrinkled hands ached with pain.

“Clunk!” A sound of a coin being tossed to the can I held up. I am sprawled on the pavement, wondering if I would be able to eat today.

Post note: Our female group members had apprehensions picking a male beggar because they might get harrased so we decided on an old lady. Lola Beatrice is blind and she is from Capoocan, Leyte. She begs for change in the sidewalk near Everwell drugstore in downtown Tacloban. She is always accompanied by Lola Petra (about the same age) so we decided to take them both as our subjects.

Since the approval of our Christology Professor we have been regularly meeting Lola B and P every week. The initial reaction of a person would somewhere be between feeling "icky" and feeling pity. My female classmates were having second thoughts about our Christmas dinner plan with them, but I think it would really be a great thing. Next week, we'll check their vital signs (we'll do it ourselves since local barangay health units refuse to treat derelicts) and health status.

My heart really bleeds for Lola B- what a sad story, but we are here to be taught a lesson in community extension. I think it is wiser to focus on what the group can do- in making small but positive changes in their lives. I think this would be a holiday to remember. 12-18-2007

Wazzup!!

It has been a while since I last posted an entry. These are the reasons why:

Busy building a city- a model, that is. Part of a plot schemed by our professors so students won’t get to enjoy the holiday break is to give so many tasks to do within that period. This task is to create a scale model of an ideal community in a metropolitan setting (my suggestion, since I was partly feeling nostalgic, remembering my apartment in Makati). I have to make a really good one so I’m starting with the buildings. Good luck, Thad!

Taking care of a beggar. I must admit, it gives a different feeling of fulfillment being able to put a smile on a complete stranger’s face. That’s us with our beggars, and we are supposed to take care of them (meeting with them regularly and bringing food, and basically getting their life story) for six months. I hope we do make a difference in their lives no matter how small.

Publishing a book! Yeah, desktop publishing lol! I couldn’t resist- originally I only planned to print hard copies of my favorite articles (about sixty of them) and then I had this crazy idea of adding a cover and then voila! A 140 page book with four chapters was made. I was feeling bold after this so I sent some to Leyte-Samar Express (good thing the publisher didn’t kick me out when I met with him); they said they mostly do straightforward news, and that features and stories are usually printed on Sundays. I soon expect to receive a letter saying, “Thank you for your interest. We are sorry to inform you that…”

Before I end this post, I just want to greet everyone a very Merry Christmas! I’ve been planning to make a holiday e-card for my fellow bloggers with a picture of the giant Christmas tree we have in plaza Rizal. Lovely with all the lights, I tell ya.

Give me and my friends a few nights… One holiday card, coming up!

Gym Stories 3

Being gay is hard work. I’m not sure though if this is only inherent to the particular gay sub-species one belongs to, but I’m thinking at some level, all gay men are obsessed with looks. I belong to the “all-around-cute-gay-guy” category (or so I think), and part of my regimen is trying desperately not to look my age (vanity to the highest level, I know).

So here I am slaving away at the gym. I’m madly pedaling, cursing the clock for moving too slow. Five more minutes of cardio, and it feels like and eternity. Then BAM! I see him: an old friend who I last saw when I was in my teens. He is a doctor now, and looking quite fine.

My eyes work like binoculars. Zzzzztt (checking overall appearance: nice shoulders, nice build, tall, and a cute face) zzzzzztt (zooming towards face: youthful, nice skin, braces, oh a blackhead near the nose, overall very nice).

“Hey!” I exclaimed, genuinely surprised to see him.

“Thad! Kamusta?” He takes the stationary bike next to me.

“Eto Ok naman. Do you come here often?”

“Yeah, for the past two months. Ikaw?”

“I quit gym last June, busy kasi. This month, I started again.” Damn! Why do I keep looking at that blackhead?

“Kamusta sched mo?”

“Medyo busy din.” R. says, wiping the sweat off his brow. “Anong sunod after this?”

“Weights.” I say.

As I made my way to my trainer, I suddenly wished I was lifting heavier weights. I’ve got to make a good impression. Uggh, I this is bad- developing a crush on an old friend.

As I did bench presses, I was weighing the risks. First off, I’d be a fool to risk a 13 year old friendship by making a move, second, I think he is straight and that would be fighting a losing battle.

“Arggh.” I set the weights back to the bars.

Ok, so I’ve decided no fooling around with this one. I grit my teeth and resume doing bench presses. I cursed being here at the gym at this time.

Why are we so pressured to look good anyway? I’ve thought about just letting myself go, but when I think of the consequences, I think I’d rather stick to doing my fitness routines. Being gay is like participating in a perpetual beauty contest, it’s exhausting! This is surely punishment for being so shallow.

I sit up and wipe my dripping sweat. I looked around for a moment and rested.

“Hey Thad, I’ve got to go.” It was my friend, R.

“Sure. See you around.” I say.

He makes his way to the dressing area, and walk towards the pull ups. Guess I better get back to my program.

And oh, R. if you are reading this- I was just kidding earlier. ; )

Potter's Magic

After watching the hilarious bisaya spoof, I said to myself I simply must see the real Harry Potter series. Ok, so I’m a little late getting into this movie; and yes, I am aware Daniel Radcliff had already grown pubes and all.

I tried recalling why I snubbed this movie, and suddenly it came to me- during the annual release of each installment, it always coincided with The Lord of the Rings premiere. Come on, who could resist the homoerotic undertones and electricity in the Frodo-Sam and Legolas-Aragorn tandems? It was bye bye Potter for me.

So now I’ve just begun to get acquainted with the Griffindorfs and the Slitherins (did I spell those correctly?) and I must say, they are the best companions on school nights, when going clubbing is out of question. I just watch a couple of minutes (say twenty) and then drift off to sleep. Works better than watching National Geographic Channel!

Let me just clarify, I’m not saying the movie is boring. It just the kind of light, entertaining tale I would savor night after night. Ah, nothing like an evening escape from the rigors of Biochem.

LOL! Harry Potter wa pay tuli!