Leadership Knows No Age

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120 Gawad Kalinga houses to be built for Sendong victims in NegOr town

120 Gawad Kalinga houses to be built for Sendong victims in NegOr town

A New Year's Resolution

I am not one that believes on New Year's Resolution (NYR). For me, it's one of the world's most sacred phrases that have been taken for granted. Who started it anyway? Thank God, I'm now way passed my Formal and Informal Theme writing years. Perhaps requiring students to write about it is a band-aid remedy by English teachers who were not able to prepare a lesson plan during the long break. It's like a topic of last resort between two bored friends in a coffee shop. It comes handy when there's nothing else interesting to talk about. Or has it become a force of habit? I think the very reason that I am not liking it is that it was being imposed on me since I started writing my ABCs in school. Like a bitter pill stuck into my throat, I was not given the chance to decide whether I'd like to taste it or not. Meaning, every year in all my years of learning I was made to come up with New Year's resolutions because the English teacher required it. Whether, I meant it or not, it didn't matter. Whether there were genuine resolutions that took place, nobody cared to know. I have yet to hear people claiming to owe their life's successes to the NYR habit, among other factors.

Don't get wrong. I am not totally against NYR. I am for its real intent. As a commitment for reform of one or more aspects of self,  NYR is a sacred thing.  If taken seriously, one NYR to another leads to the actualization of one's highest potential. It brings nothing but goodness.

Through the years, I've been pessimistic about it until recently. Since it's 2011, I've decided to give NYR a chance for a change. I will only make one resolution and try hard to keep at it.

So I hereby resolve to practice writing by typing my random thoughts for at least 30 minutes daily! I hope that by doing so, I'm able to keep my passion for writing burning. It is my dream to write a piece of work
that  may bring goodwill to others and perhaps, world peace (I thank you).

My 30-minute writing practice for the day is up. Let me now put the cursor to rest.

Giving Birth

I was not professionally trained as a writer. But writing assignments have never escaped me since I can remember. I said "assignments" because they were either given to me in exchange for bread and butter or "forced" on me in exchange for a psychic income. Either way, it is beneficial to both my body and soul no doubt about it. But no matter how tremendous and incalculable the good that producing an article offers me, it is never without pain. Coming out with appropriate words, much less arranging them to form a sensible idea and not to appear like something that is cut out from a lunatic 's perspective, to me, is intense labor. It feels like the cells of my body are trapped in a dark cave of nowhere, searching for a tiny spark and gasping for fresh air. I need to come out from the pit of silent cry. I need to be transported to a special place where the rampaging and crisscrossing of thoughts are finally given expression and meaning; where the squalls are finally heard. If this is not a virtual preview of what giving birth to screaming babies is, then what is.

Clark and Carie: A Toast

Dear Clark and Carie. Dear Carie and Clark.

I am not yet married but I have witnessed a hundred and one weddings and marriages and how weddings and marriages are ought to be. Now, I guess that's my only qualification to propose a toast.

For me, marriage is an adventure of a lifetime. It is a journey toward uncharted territories so that there shall be bumps, curves, twists, turns and of course smooth pavements along the way. There shall be an endless discovery of character--good and not-so good, and if you wish, also a constant building of personhood of one for the other so that the union of two hearts is seamlessly perfected through time. Since the process involves a multitude of dichotomies of every aspect of life, strengthen your hearts. That is, hope for the best but prepare for the inevitables. While you are at it, may you not forget that you are friends and lovers in the first place so find time to do what you love to do, like travel once in a while or go out on a date regularly. The latter is a must.

Now, let me share with you the best advice of married couples to newlyweds that I've gathered so far (told ya, I'm a wedding junkie): Hold hands every time you get a chance. More importantly, never let go of each other's hands at times when you don't see eye to eye and you have to fight. It's quite a skill to master but it can be done, as told based on experience.

So here's to a lifelong of beautiful, blessed and blissful union of Clark and Carie, let's drink to that!

some random musings about life

one significant person once told me that i am naive. was i shocked. i could not believe what crashed into my eardrums. i thought i was just too dense to get it. perhaps being dense is naivety to the highest level. i have no idea. but what i am quite sure at this very moment is that i just don't get some people who seem to be happy at making other people's lives (MY LIFE , actually and those have to be in capital letters though i want it appear less obvious) unhappy. why can't they just tell you ( I mean, me: the open and close parentheses here signify discreetness) straight to your blank face what in the world they really want from you! for sure, not all people are born fortune tellers ( and that's with a resounding: helloooooo!@#@?) or maybe life is a guessing game. guess 'till you freeze. how's that? am i born in this planet to figure out things everyday of my life until eternity? i need another palm reader to foretell my destiny, anyone?

isn't it that gift of knowledge is ought to be shared for humanity's advantage? so the unlearned may learn..or maybe the adage that i once read in a chamomile-flavored herbal tea box that goes: "Knowledge is power" has motivated others to gain knowledge, more and more of it every step of the way, because that would mean more power for them. what power? power to dominate over the weak, the stupid, the ignorant? power to spawn some disease called intellectual arrogance?

i am now beginning to believe that in the greatest scheme of things called universe, everything is really, really complex. i used to think it's just complex (that comes with a shoulders' shrug), not something really, really complex because with the former there are no-brainer easy chicken ways to weather the complexities of things. case in point: if i were a waitress, and you are a VIP diner and your order a steak which is cooked with 1/2 cup soy sauce , 1 clove garlic (mashed) 1/2 cup water,1/4 cup salad oil, 2 md. green peppers (thinly sliced), 1 md. onion( also thinly sliced), 5 stalks celery (again, thinly sliced), 1 tbsp. cornstarch and 1/2 cup water, 2 tomatoes (cut into wedges), and serve over a hot java steamed rice . well, it sounds complex but i can figure it out because you've told me exactly what you want in your steak. little did i know that such kind of situation can become really, really complex---that is, if you want a Chinese pepper steak, which is not in our menu and you want the beef fresh from China and you and I happen to be in a steak house in Iqaluit, Canada; and that type of things happen all the time!

whatever happened to the old saying: "Be kind to animals" that i used to read in my grandma's apple lemon pomegranate rooibos tea box? did it go down with the trash loading the drain?

in this world, i only have lots of questions. but no answers.

The Anatomy of Silence

It just gets me wondering down to my toenails why some people can be damn quite for eternity. It seems that an invisible thread tightly stitched their mouth so that no amount of word can escape from it. It's not that they are not gifted with well-functioning vocal chords, larynch, esophagus, tongue and everthing else that the Great Maker put together for Adam and his descendants to produce sounds that turn into words that turn into phrases that turn sentences that turn into paragraphs. It only takes a little effort to utter any of them. It looks like they are not too happy to be endowed with such an amazing gift of speech! It's just ironic that those people who have difficulty in speaking try their might to utter words that are hard to decode, not to mention spend tons of money to get the aid of professionals and technology. Perhaps, the most powerful messages that humankind has ever produced are communicated without a word.

To Vote or Not To Vote

Destined thousand miles away from the place where I am a registered voter, to vote or not to vote in the upcoming May elections suddenly becomes a major decision to make for me. It brings me back to Good Friday since it entails a lot of sacrifices that for one thing bores a hole in my already worn-out pocket.

I hate to admit it but it gets easy to be carried away by a despondent view that whether or not one exercises right to suffrage, nothing good comes out of it. Many people might think that whether we vote or not we still belong to the “most corrupt country in Asia” as Hong Kong-based Political and Economic Risk Consultancy (PBRC) 2007 survey reveals.

Some rationalize voting as a “negative ROI (return of investment)”. They calculate that both financial (e.g. plane tickets) and sweat equities that they render in going through the tedious voting process do not just pay off. All these misgivings are not expressed without a huge sigh coming from the diaphragms of citizens who are frustrated and deeply troubled by the country’s filthy political landscape. I claim not to be an exception. However, letting myself to be punished for being governed by pseudo-leaders, those who are only motivated by self-interests and greed, because I did not cast my vote is an added burden I can not bear in the near future.

For a government system that has taken shape out of seveal molds of colonialism, effecting change into it seems to be a herculean task, close to impossible. They say that there is nothing wrong with the system; the flaw lies on the people who run it. It takes a foreigner in Paul Hutchcroft, author of Booty Capitalism (1998), to remind us that for centuries general type of people that we are electing into office are those that adhere to “rent capitalism” which describes “systems in which money is invested in arrangements or appropriating wealth which has already been produced rather in arrangements or actually producing it.” These people are either bureaucratic elites, who are benefiting rent extraction within the state apparatus or oligarchs, who “have an economic base quite independent of the state apparatus, but access to the state is nonetheless the major avenue to private accumulation.” Talk about the never-ending presence of political dynasties and the octopus-like reach of elite families’ networks in government, business, education, and other key sectors. Talk about the huge economic divide between the rich and the poor. Talk about poverty.

In my class in Philippine Bureaucracy, my professor observed that the problems within the system are deeply rooted in history so that bringing about change has to be radical. Dismantling the oligarchy dominating both the country’s economic and political arenas could well be a potent step towards a transformed Filipino nation. He said that Cory Aquino under a revolutionary government had such chance but missed it. “Ramos, who neither qualified as political aristocrat nor oligarch, had all the chance to do it . Well, he started it when he liberalized major trades and monopolies but when he danced Cha-cha his career indeed so was the pursuit to dismantle the oligarchs ,” he quipped.

Listening to my professor, a despondent and desperate side of me that desires for change in this country thought of radical change as not limited to bloodless revolts. But having been taught to value humanity and fear of the Almighty, I decided that it is best to leave bloody thoughts within the confines of the cerebrum. Nevertheless, I may not become a radical change agent in this lifetime but I am trying to live out words of Mahatma Gandhi when he proclaimed: “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” Thus, I will take part in a ballot next month.

Truly, my vote is just a pebble cast into a vast ocean. Alone, it won’t create a ripple. But it makes up the millions who decide that effecting change in this country affords no more delay. And isn’t it that it “only takes one man to do nothing for evil to triumph?” For anything, if there’s only one reason that I need to vote in this year’s election, it is to squeeze out my psyche any drop of hopelessness for the “Pearl of the Orient Seas.” I believe that there are more people teeming with hope in this country who may have just been waiting for the perfect moment to unleash it from their heart and make it come alive. May 14, 2007 can be just that moment.

After all, giving witness to hope, which is one of the amazing gifts given to humankind, is the essence of Jesus’ Resurrection. It lives on as long as it takes when every Filipino decides that his or her vote does matter. To vote is a stride taken by millions upon millions towards the fulfillment of the collective desired change. It stands to take the whole nation to a path embraced by sunshine. Once we get there, then we’d know that it’s Good Friday no more.

Fight or Flight

Life is a seed of dichotomies--of good and evil; of beautiful and ugly; of euphoria and melancholia; of love and apathy. So that, every second of your lifetime you are conftronted with two choices. You are naturally forced to take side. Whatever your choice is, one leads to life; the other to death.

Case in point. When faced with a dilemma, you find yourself standing on a fork in the road bewildered over which route to take: FIGHT or FLIGHT.

Most people tought of taking a FLIGHT as the easier path. To FIGHT is a road to perdition, thus a less-travelled one.

Some oiled people travel around the world to run away from their problems. Sometimes, they do space travel when they wanted more air. Other people spend money they don't earn to buy things they don't need to please people they don't like (one of these people is himself or herself).

When money does not come handy, some people go up the mountain and hide in the caves. The whole idea is to be incommunicado from the rest of the world. (Later on, they decide to come out and proclaim to the world their new fashion statement.)

In my case, when the sailing gets rough I go for "inner self-torture." I fight. I face my enemy, seen or unseen, squarely. I fight and struggle to wring off the evil's ugly head. I bleed, I get cuts and bruises in the process. No pain is ever more painful than the invisible sting that comes with fighting for what I believe is the truth. Superman has found an ally in me when he proclaims: "no pain, no gain". It pays to stand up for the truth. There is nothing more liberating than setting oneself free from the bondage of "what ifs" and "buts". I don't rest my case until all sides are heard, understood and valued, until everything that lurks in the dark is brought to light.

In the battlefield, victory is only achieved when both camps decide to raise the banner of peace.

In love, the lovers need to fight for their love. The relationship is going nowhere if one fights and the other takes a flight.

So, if you happen to be the flighty type, here's my one cent: Don't just give up , baby. 'Coz love never fails.

Why I Am Not Spending A Cent For The Da Vinci Code Movie

It’s not that the cost of a movie theater pass these days can feed two hungry street children and put a huge smile on their mucky-faces.

It’s not that the unconformist in me would just try to go against the tide sweeping over 40 million people worldwide who have buried their noses on the Brownish book. It’s not that I don’t admire the acting qualities of Tom Hanks; in fact I consider him as one of the exceptional actors of all time.

It's simple. The means never justifies the end. That’s the very reason that I will never spend a cent for Dan Brown’s work of art. Brown has amassed wealth at the expense of distorting other people’s image of God, of attacking my faith in Jesus Christ who is my Lord and Savior. For me, that’s a glaring violation of God’s commandment: “Thou shalt not put the name of the Lord they God in vain.”

Ron Howard, the film director said the movie was made merely "to entertain". If Jesus Christ were here, I suspect He will utter the same prayer He said while nailed on the cross: "Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing."

If the Da Vinci Code were created out of other religion, they will surely make their stance agonizingly clear.

I am blissful to be a Catholic Christian and this gives Brown a lot more reason to be happy. I don’t have to slash his face for portraying that Jesus Christ was not an immortal God. I have been taught to forgive and have compassion.

Capitalizing on proving that Jesus Christ and St. Mary Magdalene have a child is an offense more than literally turning the image of the former into a cartoon strip. It’s simply blasphemous.

I am offended. And I have all the reasons to feel that way.

(Published @ Sunstar. Cebu (Speak Out).June 2, 2006. "I Snubbed Da Vinci Code". All Rights Reserved.)

Dark night of the Soul

One thing bothers me for a quite a time now. It's like a bug that gnaws the inner circuits of my existence. It wants to prowl its wings to measure up its worth only to be caught by the cobwebs of doubt rooted in the bones of darkness.

Sometimes, life puts you in a helpless situation. Then you start to sense your fallibility, your mortality; your nothingness. And you realize that the power within you has a corporeal life of its own; it doesn't have to exist as you do. Sometimes, it's long been dead, buriend inside a frame which utility has been reduced to waiting for its annihilation.

But just as when you see that all scheme of things is a starless night, a tiny streak of light flicker from an infinite distance.

I hate blogging because...

Waxing random thoughts is one thing that keeps my sanity (well, if I have it?) intact. And since I happen to belong to i-Generation, blog spheres such as this readily come to arrest exploding gray matter . But this kind of unloading is not just something which makes you sing "ang gaan-gaan ng feeling". Conversely, it is a near-death experience. Part of the self dies when the internal dynamics of what it is to be human are enfleshed into words and made public. In the case of the latter, such dying is intensified. When you publish your thoughts, you allow others to pry on the things that dwell on the recesses of your soul and provide them a glimpse of what you are made of . Your so-called privacy is lost. That's why: I hate blogging*%#@!

But someone's just too late a hero.

I am blogging because....

I didn't want to wake up from a beautiful dream, but it's Monday and Sir Alarm Clock says it's time to drag my arse to work...

My mind is sleeping but I can see my body in my work station...

I am physically tired, I have an aching back (maybe crying because it's being taken away from its "crib") and I want to have a back rub...

Sleepyhead strikes again but I had to buy my bread and butter...

I am bored watching the same world go by...

I just want to gaze at a blank wall without batting an eyelash but I just can't without giving my colleagues a hint to bring me to a shrink...

I just can't do anything worthwhile at the minute, Ms. Gray Matter is taking an absence without leave (maybe on space travel)...

I want to swirl nosedive and sommersault in between to wake me up inside but office decorum says I just can't...

Well, I can go on and on and on....

But don't I have enough reasons not to blog?

Steep mountain

I have the tendency to finish what I started, come hell or high water. I don't know if I'm like a horse with blinders on the side, or have the blinders already covered my eyes that I get blinded of things that really matter.

Anyway, all I wanted to yak about now is the prospect of immersing myself to an ardouos back-breaking task of research to finish the master's degree that I started almost five years ago. Just the mere thought of ransacking the shelves for dusty books in the library already makes me nauseated. Geeshh, I can't imagine spending hours, days or months in that cold, lonely place that is enveloped with an air of intellectual nerdness.

I just can't do it! Here's the loser in me taking center stage. Waaahhhhhhh

Flabbergasted

Packaged with a limited vocabulary and an enemy of prepositions, I have never considered myself a writer, much less a good writer! I still have so much to learn about the English language or I still have to eat truckloads of rice before I can explain what supercalifragilisticexpialidocious really mean. That’s why you just don’t know how flabbergasted I was, and still am when a real awesome writer, a much-revered magazine editor would suddenly want me to send him my articles!!! And he even went at asking me how come I had not sent a writeup for a long time, sayang daw! I had a few articles published in his magazine when he was not yet the editor. I thought those were published because the editor he replaced was a friend. “More power to your writing. Keep your pieces coming. You've got what it takes to write more and more. God bless...!” were his final messages to me in one encounter. Whoa, was I floored! Did I win a multi-million lotto jackpot? Tell meeehhhh!!!!

Worshipping Brad Pitt

Watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith (topbilled by Brad Bitt and Angelina Jolie) with cool girlfriends --Yani and Rhea the other night. I’d never been interested on the plot of the flick. Aside from enjoying girl-talk, the very reason that I dragged myself to the theater and paid a jaw-dropping P110 (the amount that I could have spared for the Children’s Hour) for the kill is to drool (ooops…) at a sight of a lovely piece of art called Brad Pitt. How can there be a sinfully scenic sight like that?! To me, he will always be the sexiest man (alive or dead) on Earth. Lol!

Alright. Brad Pitt might be the “most beautiful mark” my keen eye for beauty would ever see, I’ve never dreamt of marrying him (hahaha!), I mean, his kind. Sadly, I just don’t want to end up a Jennifer Aniston nor an Angelina Jolie (and the naming continues?)....

of photography and violence

I had an exciting basic photography lesson with Boss RBL lately. I thought taking pictures was just all that-- peeping through a lens, aiming the target and click!

I would have never understood that there are such mammals called F/stop (an insect that would determine the size of aperture or the amount of light needed or something like that), Shutterspeed (the amount of movement of the shutter that you desire depending on the subject or something like that), Flash (when to use and not to use it), Rule of Thirds (in framing subject) and Stealing (which is not a crime).

And there is also decorum in holding the camera while on the act of shooting photos. The general rule is to ensure that you don't appear more choreographed or emote than the subjects of the shoot, otherwise you have to decide to reverse roles or change career at once.

First, Tristan, my only classmate, and I studied the use of a still camera, then a digital camera a bit later. In the workshop, we took pictures and then critiqued what’s wrong with the shots taken. There were also a little experimentation on getting some effects and adding drama to the subject like forced perception.

The use of technology like computer softwares in editing photos has given photographers, especially the neophytes, a huge privilege to correct errors in the take. For instance, the cropping tool allows the misframed photos to become Rule-of-Thirds compliant.

Now this tool also proves to be useful in accomplishing “virtual crimes”. Like if you wish to get back on someone who did wrong to you and thought of slowly decapitating or amputating the subject of your wrath without having to face an attempted murder trial, you just have to secure some of the target’s photos and cut whatever parts of his/her body to your satisfaction.

Little did I realize that photography can be a bloodless, seamless, slick form of revenge.

Lol!!!

50 words (or so) of the night…

03 June 2005

Friday. Flyday. Colleagues. Grand Convention. Marissa. Plaque. Dinner. LOLs. Touch Move. Black&White. Maryvel. Photoshoot. Toothpick. Emote Galore. Pfizer. Geoplan. Tristan.Free food. Four Seasons. Fried Rice. RBL. Pink. Fruit Salad.Gobblers. Tuxedo. GIS. Clappers. Speech. Summer Tales. Escapade. Rose.Big Apple. Audience. Bryan. Underwater. SCUBA. NASA. Boss. Party. Lotlot. Dancefloor. Riot. Margarita. Showdown. Emelyn (aka Gamay). 80's. Live Band. Cocktails. VIP Card. Hiphop. Gerard. Generations A-Z. Gollum. Cab.

I believe...

A good friend sent this to me and I thought it's worth keeping, because I too believe...

- that we don't have to change friends if we understand that friends change.

I believe- that no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.

I believe- that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.

I believe- that you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.

I believe- that it's taking me a long time to become the person I want tobe.

I believe- that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It maybe the last time you see them.

I believe- that you can keep going long after you can't.

I believe- that we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

I believe- that either you control your attitude or it controls you.

I believe- that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first,the passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place.

I believe- that heroes are the people who do what has to be done when itneeds to be done, regardless of the consequences.

I believe- that money is a lousy way of keeping score.

I believe- that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.

I believe- that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you'redown, will be the ones to help you get back up.

I believe- that sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.

I believe- that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.

I believe- that maturity has more to do with what types of experiencesyou've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

I believe- that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.

I believe- that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.

I believe- that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.

I believe- that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don'tlove each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.

I believe- that you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It couldchange your life forever.

I believe- that two people can look at the exact same thing and seesomething totally different.

I believe- that your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you.

I believe- that even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.

I believe- that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent humanbeing.

I believe- that the people you care about most in life are taken from youtoo soon.

Walking with a goddess named Lu-Ann

Lu-Ann, the fairest of goddesses that I’ve ever known is leaving for Brisbane today. My heart sank, I didn’t know she’s leaving too soon.

Lu-Ann is a new-found friend from Down Under. A mixed brand between a Filipino-Chinese mother and a full-blooded Spanish father, she perfectly looks like a clone of who else but me. Joke! The truth is we’re both drop dead gorgeous: I look dead, she’s gorgeous.

Let her trudge the streets and you see necks craning and heads twisting just to worship her.

We hang out together just a few times not long before but we easily hit it off as “beacchy sistahz.”

I have the hard time decoding the “Haleerr” accent. She has the patience to act like a parrot for me, repeating every single word that made up every sentence that she’d blow into my eardrums. I call it a language barrier. She calls it a hearing problem.

A certified shopping addict, she crashes into the mall like a daily habit terrorizing every shop that plies with fashion accessories, bling blings, jewelry, bags, shoes, clothes and a lot more of kikay stuffs.

Mention of a shop that sells chocolate cake and she’ll get there in a flash. One time, we made a stop in a café that is famous for choco desserts. In between gobbles, we babbled everything about chocolate and the 5 million and one boyfriends she’s got (“ssshhh, don’t tell Momma,” his hazel brown eyes warned me). Funny, how stories aplenty can be told about chocs and boys.

Now that she’s heading for home sweet home, I just wish her all the best. OK, I will surely miss her but I know she’ll miss me more.