High school life

Growing up in the province at times gives you an edge over those who have been in the city from birth. For one, there's just a lot more colorful stories to tell and equally more animated ways to tell it. In my case, I have attempted to list down, from top of mind, things I associate with high school spent in a remote town far from the city.

Here's my list. I had a grand time coming up with one. You should try coming up with a list too. I tried to elaborate briefly each item. Some though speak for themselves. The 80's was just a very fun time to always look back. And besides, most of the people I know who come visit my blog are well familiar with the period. Except for Mavic who may know something way, way beyond the great 80's.

Enjoy my high-school-days-oh-my-high-school-days-I-remember-kay-saya list:

1. Manilyn Reynes-Janno Gibbs notebook. Patok na patok sa probinsiya everyone had it.
2. Menudo craze. Girl classmates drooled over Robby Rosa, Ricky Martin, Charlie ---, Roy ---.
3. Florante at Laura. Hindi ako um-absent sa class kasi gusto ko iyong love story.
4. Panatang Makabayan. Memorized ko ito noon; ngayon kelangan ko nang tulong.
5. Nutri-bun. May binibigay noon na tinapay sa mga public schools. Super laki na super sawa na ang lahat.
6. Splash gel. Diyan nagsimula ang lahat.
7. Rick Astley, Fra Lippo Lippi, Ray Parker Jr. Sikat noon, sikat pa rin sa amin ngayon.
8. Kumander Gringa, Bala at Lipstik, Petrang Kabayo. Roderick Paulate has since become the only one who can make me laugh without really trying. :-)
9. Rolling store ni Manang. Utangan namin pag recess, taguan pag late.
10. Slumbook. Lahat meron. Lahat dapat sa-sign ka rin.
11. Every name has the letter H as second letter (Mhalen, Lhilet, Vhangie). No comment.
12. Padamihan ng letter E sa pangalan (Mercee, Lucee, Virgee). No comment pa rin.
13. Mr. DJ ni Sharon. Naririnig ko sa radyo ng kapitbahay.
14. Scott Baio. May poster ako ginupit pa sa Women's magazine yata (o MOD). :-)
15. Cassette player & cassette tapes. Diyan ko napakinggan ang Footloose na soundtrack at Thriller tapes.
16. Bic ballpen, THOR pencils. Masarap ngatngatin.
17. COD, Syvel's at Footstep sa Cubao. Pasyalan sa Cubao noon. Sa COD ako dahil sa christmas displays, Syvel's dahil sa nanay ko.
18. Bagets porma. Naka-fold na short sleeves, baston na pantalon na may zipper sa gilid. Huwag na please....
19. Basketball sa ulan. Kasama sina Mao, Doc, Toddy, Jimboy.
20. Biology field trip. Kuha ng algae.
21. Dutong, dutong. Tawag sa teacher namin na putol iyong isang daliri pag gustong maasar.
22. Practical arts subject ni Mr. Hubalde. Dito nagsimula ang pangarap kong maging carpenter. Project ko non plantsahan.
23. CAT pag Monday afternoons. Astig porma.
24. English elective class ni Mr. Verana. Always fun.
25. Teammates (John L., Victor Z., Rodel B.) sa 4x100m relay. Winning team for three straight years.
26. Induction balls. Ligaw, ligaw.
27. Girlfriend, girlfriends. First kiss, first kiss.
28. Sperry Topsider. Porma shoes.
29. Kungfu shoes. Gift lang sa akin, hindi ito porma shoes ko. :-)
30. Bulletin board sa Faculty room. Where class rankings are posted.

Fatherhood

I will never know what it actually feels to be a father.

That day I turned 26 I vowed never to marry. Not because I really wanted to, but more to serve as a fearless statement and a fitting tribute to a newfound identity following meaningful experiences with self-acceptance. It’s so clear to me the reasons behind the decision. For one, I don’t need to prove to any one that I’m virile and capable of bursting my seeds to fertile lands. I’m not even interested to be portrayed as a good and dutiful son succumbing to family pressure to perpetuate one’s own genetic material lest I’ll be cut off from inheritance. My family’s not affluent so I’m safe in this regard. But worst of all, I don’t subscribe to the horrifying idea that family means family only when father-mother-brother-sister and the dog are present.

I’m thankful I have reached that stage in my life where valuing self-concept is not just a wild dream, but a living truth. I have spent many years finding and improving myself since that fateful day in 1996 when I turned 24 and thanked God for giving be courage to accept myself. The years that followed have been unexplainably happy and fulfilling, which likely rubbed on my parents. They are now careful not to insist on what they want, but defer to my judgment on things. I like to interpret this as their way of recognizing the truth that tradition and traditional things aren’t always justified and correct.

I may never be a father myself, but my god, I do know how to be one.

Paddling for motherland

While Manila was besieged with endless protests left and right over the weekend, I was more than 730 miles north of Manila in Taipei as part of a crew of 21 dragonboat rowers carrying the Philippine flag who slugged it out with three other teams for the fifth place. I felt it was ironic that while there were a group of people somewhere fighting to bring the country prestige and honor, exactly the opposite happens at home. That makes me sigh.

Anyways, our team competed in the 2005 Taipei International Dragonboat Championships held at the Keelung Riverside Park in Taipei city. Although we were actually a local club team, one doesn’t normally carry the team’s name in international races. You’re likely to be referred to by your country of origin. It’s a daunting task to know you’re competing for your country. And you know you shouldn’t fail. We left Manila early morning of Thursday and just planed home yesterday past lunchtime.

I have longed dreamt of competing for the country in one area I know I do well since I was in gradeschool --- sports. I’m glad I have finally found the way through rowing. It has been where most of my time revolved around since the start of the year and has been the cause of my endless decline on friend’s invitations for after-work dinners or coffee or movies. More ominously, I have to admit (even if I’d be likely yet lovingly sneered at by some friends) that it has mainly been the reason why love has come aloof and cold. It slips through my hands as fast it comes, vanishes as quickly as it appears knocking.

But the sacrifices I’ve endured over the months have well been worth it. They were around 76 teams who participated in the race, of which close to a third belonged to the open competition category where we signed up. Of this, about ten teams came from around the world from USA to Canada to Australia to Japan, Singapore, and of course, Philippines.

We didn’t fail motherland. We were one of the only two foreign teams left in the semifinals comprised of eight teams. We lost by an unbelievable 0.04 seconds. We may not have brought home the gold and around 600 thousand pesos in cash prize that accompanied it, but one thing was certain: We made a mark there. We deserved every applause they offered everytime we walk by. They couldn't believe we beat USA in our first heat and all the foreign teams after that. The only one's we were up against were Taiwan teams comprised of physical education major university students and another from their airforce academy. But even then, the name Manila will surely be associated with deadly performance on the water.

So long, Lolo Papang

A few months back, I wrote something about my grandfather, my mom’s dad, whom all of us call Lolo Papang. I don’t exactly recall what moved me to write that piece, but I just remember feeling it was the right thing to do that day. In that article, I recalled few memorable stories about him which he narrated to me as a grandchild living closest to him. This happened during most of the 70’s until he retired as an elementary school district supervisor in our town after 40 years of doing public service, and subsequently moved to the States to follow Lola Mamang.

A few days ago, I wrote something about him again. This time, my mom asked me to do it. She had been asked, being the eldest among five brothers and five sisters, to deliver a eulogy for Lolo Papang before gathered relatives, friends, neighbors, and townmates in far USA. He died peacefully in a hospital last May 26 at 86.

I’ve been bribed a few times to write straightforward speeches for friends. At other times, I’ve succumbed to relentless pleas from my sister to edit her masteral thesis. But I’ve never done a eulogy for anybody before. What made the work a bit easier was my long-held honor of being the only grandchild among 39 that he allowed to go over the unpublished manuscript of his autobiography which he started writing when as early as five years before his death.

I nevertheless tried my hand at doing one. I didn’t want something that makes people cry. I wanted something that will become a breath of fresh air to everyone attending. I wanted a feel of noltalgia without the tears. As my way of paying tribute to the spirit of love and devotion Lolo Papang left behind, I wanted to share with you what I did. I have yet to ask my mom how she fared delivering it.

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Papang and his Letter M's

Thank you for joining us this afternoon. Your display of sympathy towards us has given us so much comfort and joy. Some have come from afar, some took their cars while others probably had to fly and cross states. Thank you for showing us your love. I'm sure Papang will be so humbled with the love and respect you have shown today.

It's difficult to relive Papang's lifestory without sharing with you the letter M's of his life.

The first M would have to be music. In the same way that you cannot separate night from day, Papang felt the same way with music. His high school days from 1935 to 1939 in Batanes were one of his happiest. This was before the war when kids didn't smoke, drink nor do drugs, but instead, would make plans for dances and soirees all the time. It was probably around this time also when he started to seriously play one string instrument after another ----- whether it's ukelele, guitar, banjo tenor, or banduria ---- and be good at every one of them. Papang and his friends became so proficient, not just in organizing dances, but in attending every one that's organized even if it meant hiking for six kilometers to the next town and another six kilometers heading back home since there were no public transportation that time in Batanes.

Forty five years later in 1980, his music made him feel at home here in America. He remembers so vividly that day he won first place in a talent contest he joined. He gladly bribed our youngest brother Jojo to accompany him in guitar while Papang played the banduria. And so before an audience of more than 200, Papang and Jojo played three popular pieces, the same three songs we've heard him play and master over the years as we grew up in Batanes. That's why the songs "Let me call you sweetheart," "Mexically Rose," and "You are my sunshine" have always been close to my heart. They were well-applauded. But what made the event more significant for Papang was it paved the way for our youngest brother Jojo to meet his wife Emilie for the first time.

While Papang played Cupid for Jojo, this wasn't how he seemed to be when he was younger. Many may not know it, but Papang kept love at bay when he was growing up. His humble beginnings made it clear to him that there were only two ways he can rise from the hardships and that was, first, to finish a college education and, believe or not, keep love away. So when he was in high school, he made a promise not to be too serious with girls. That was a little difficult for him since he was pretty popular in high school being chief of the high school orchestra and at the same time class president during his entire high school years.

But it only took another letter M to make Papang break his vow. Only three months into his fourth year, he pursued Mamang relentlessly who was in the first year class that time. Everyone was surprised. Papang that time was never known to be somebody who had his way with girls. Barely a month after high school, Papang and Mamang got married in April 1940. In his words, Papang said, he did this to make sure that Mamang would be there for him when he gets back from Manila where he planned to continue studying. A month after their wedding, Papang left the province and boarded a merchant ship to Manila where he was so determined to finish college.

However, the Second World War came and life stopped for most. Like most young men that time, he began attending daily warfare training until they received received orders for deployment. But God must have loved Papang so much that He wouldn't allow him to be in the battlefield. On Christmas eve in 1940 when they were about to be deployed to a nearby province, an order disbanding the cadets program was issued. At once, many headed home to their provinces. For Papang, he had to endure staying in Manila for around two more years. He couldn't leave for home even he desperately wanted to since there were no regular transportation heading to the province that time. He worked as a gardener for a prominent lawyer in Manila that time in the meantime. In 1942, he learned of a Japanese gunboat heading to Batanes. He spoke with some people and found a way to be included as a passenger. His employer tried to lure him to stay even promising him free law education after the war, but Papang preferred to head back home.

Home was a quiet little town called Mahatao in Batanes and the third M in Papang's life. That morning Papang arrived in Batanes from Manila, Mamang was heading back to Mahatao, around six kilometers away from the main town after bringing our eldest sister Elmie, who was still their only child that time, to our grandparents. Papang loved to tell this part of his story since it was probably filled with so much grand cinematic feel. Anyway, as Mamang was walking back home, she noticed boats brimming with umbrellas heading to the shore. She was told they were some Japanese ladies. Mamang became curious. She has never seen a Japanese lady in her life so she walked a whole kilometer to the port. She was surprised to see Batanes ladies instead. Her surprise didn't end there. She became so much more shocked to see Papang coming off the boat whom she almost failed to recognize because he grew a moustache and his hair was very long. And for the very first time in a long while, they walked hand in hand back to our grandparent's house.

Mahatao was memorable to Papang because this was where Mamang's family came from and where they settled as a young couple. This was where Papang spent most of his youth as a young married man and a young father. It was also where they lived mostly during the war. It was, as expected, where most of us were born.

Like nine months later after that fateful day in late October when Papang arrived and the fourth letter M was born in his life. It came in the form of a cute and adorable and charming little baby born in August the following year and was named Merlin. That was me. And for being the only one among us eleven brothers and sisters whose name starts in letter M, I'm deeply happy to be part of Papang's circle of letter M's.

But the greatest letter M, the Mission, of his life Papang made sure that all of us --- six sisters and five brothers --- shared. Papang, as well as Mamang, considered it their greatest achievement to have been able to send all of us siblings to college and be professionals. What makes this achievement more meaningful was it happened to a couple who didn't have any property or bank savings or even house of their own. So each time one of us comes up the stage to receive our college diplomas, Papang and Mamang felt a different sense of joy in them. They felt affirmed as good parents and blessed as good providers. I'm so happy that they lived so long enough to see that the fruits of their labor have been full, plenty, abundant, not just in our generation, but in his grandchildren's generation as well.

To end, I'd like to share with you a part of Papang's self-written valedictory address when he graduated from Grade 7 seventy years ago:

"Life is a cycle of rain and sunshine, tears and smiles, failures and successes. So have the determination to succeed regardless of any obstacles that may come your way."

This was Papang's guiding star in his life. I hope it lives in our hearts too. So his memory will always remain with us.

Race to top

Oh, what the heck!! I have decided to plaster an image of myself here. I have been pretty successful being in the outskirts for long, skimming the sidelines all these times. I thought it would be nice to give you a glimpse of the person behind the words. Besides, I'm sure my friend Mavic will find it easier to hook me up with her nice friends. :-)

The photo was taken by a friend last Saturday during an annual local dragonboat race held every May which my team joined. Close to ten Manila-based dragonboat teams joined the annual race for the 500-meter event. I have to thank Joaquin for waking up early and heading to Manila Bay and play with his camera. Since I'm the only one he knows there, I became a captive subject. My thanks also goes out to my friend McVie for driving all the way from Marikina to Baywalk just to watch.





We did good in the race. We finished first in our eliminations heat to advance in the semifinals. In the semis, we were pitted against a pseudo-civilian team where more than half of the rowers came from the former Marines team. Even then, we didn't allow them to go past us so easily. We finished a close second which assured us of a slot in the finals.



Of six teams in the finals, we clocked in for third. Not bad considering the winning teams weren't really civilian-civilian. We were glad that gave us the chance to go up the stage in the awarding to receive our medals. Meanwhile, our women's team did us proud. They made sure they left their mark. All of them were present in the awarding to receive their championship trophy and medals.

For those who missed last Saturday's race, there's another one coming three Sundays from now.

Re-igniting a flame

Long after he left, I was still finding my breath. My eyes were mindlessly fixed on the lighted desk lamp across the couch in the living room where I was slumped. My shoulders were heavy, my heart was pounding, I can feel sweat beads forming all over my face. I couldn’t believe what just happened.

I tried to play in my mind what exactly transpired a few minutes earlier hoping I’d make sense of things. But I don’t know where to start. I can’t even figure out why this happened.

D. has been sending me text messages for several days already. They came out of the blue. They were not the usual hi-hello-how-are-you messages we’ve been sending each other over the years we’ve been friends. Instead, they carried allusions about re-igniting a flame that once was there between the two of us, probably more around ten years ago. I didn’t ask how he planned to do it or what else does he have in mind. I tried to stay cool while reading all the messages that came through thinking they were just another prank being played on me, but the more frequent they turned up, the more stunned I became. They were no longer warm and friendly. They were no longer something I found delightful. I wasn’t annoyed exactly, but they made me extremely uncomfortable.

One of the more strange text message he sent while he was on a pleasure trip in Cebu. It inquired if I still love him or if I was willing to consider dating him again. He added, he would be willing to wait for my decision. I was horrified. Several messages more soon followed. They all had one direct insinuation, if I can please think over the proposal and he’d see me once he gets back from his trip.

I don’t know how D. came to this idea. I would normally have my rationale side active at this time and would clearly see the writings on the wall long before. But still, I tried finding out straight from him. He said, since we’ve known each other so well over the years, we wouldn’t really be spending so much time getting to know the basics. It’ll spare us from the trouble of initial dating and guarantee each other a wholesome and decent date or hopefully, a partner. We know each other’s friends, we’ve gone a long way back, we practically been friends for a long time.

Which brings me to a question I have been struggling: Is it convenience that I’m being sought after or just a naïve old-fashioned idea of ending up with a childhood puppy love. That Saturday night he dropped by the house for a visit straight from the airport didn’t even make things easier. I looked into his eyes when he started confirming all his text messages. I couldn’t feel anything.

Rowing and me

Five days each week, I live like a growing boy. I don’t get fed in a bottle or get my buns wrapped by pampers, but I am on bed already at eight in the evening prayerfully imploring for sleep. By then, I have finished my mug of hot chocolate drink and have taken my second shower for the evening. It’s good that I have never really found it difficult to get to dreamland quickly although early sleeping wasn’t exactly the sleeping habit I have gotten accustomed to for the longest time.

Rowing has changed my life. At least the nocturnal side of it.

I have practically ceased from going out with my friends for nightcaps or movies or dinners or quick drinks. I head home straight from gym after work. And for this, I have received quite a beating from some of them. They have practically stopped inviting me out since they know they’ll only get turned down. I haven’t been out on a Saturday night since first week of January this year. And worse, I haven’t even been inside a moviehouse since the start of the year.

It’s not just the going out at night that gets severely punished when you row. Even one’s sex life gets a massive whipping. You can’t do it the night before each training session or else, you’ll be doomed to frantically struggle keeping up with everyone in the boat. All of guys who row know this. Unloading the night before (ar worse, a few hours before) each rowing session is a sure way to be everyone’s liability on the boat. You can’t row hard enough, you can’t keep up with the pace, your timing is off, fatigue sets in early, you’re really better off somewhere else. In my case, I am slowly mastering this skill. I have been able to abstain for more than a week on several occasions already. That’s a miracle!!

Meanwhile, I try to look at the brighter side of things. Retiring early at night makes sure I get full eight-hour rest before my 5am call time every training session. Not being able to join my friends for the nightouts means saving more money. Finally, the unattended sex life signifies total discipline and strength of mind.

Goodbye Pope!

I looked at him and I almost felt like shouting, "Well done, well done!" I admire him for his untiring labor the last 26 years or so as Pope. Much has been written about what he did in this period. He made so much inroads pushing the Catholic Church to many nations and peoples. All the glory and praises he rightfully deserves for bridging people and their faith.

Except that his legacy never labored towards uplifting the kind of understanding and mindset that his church has espoused towards gays. I am not talking about ministering gay marriages or openly flaunting the ordination of gay priests. I am not even close to mentioning it as highlights of homilies around the world. At the very least, I would have wanted to see a more embracing, more pragmatic, less judgmental views towards the population. That way, we would not have been witnesses to countless number of kind, compassionate, and very talented people who have opted to distance themselves from the church. Not because they wanted to, but because it didn't minister to them and appeared to be more ready to brandish rejection and condemnation rather than love and acceptance --- just because they happened to be gays.

The others will speak.

Summer memories

I love summer! My fondest childhood memories happened during summer, that part of the year in the Philippines when school's out and every child is out on the streets or the beach for plain good time. For some lucky little ones, summer meant seeing Disneyland or horseback riding at Camp John Hay or maybe the old familiar merry-go-round at Fiesta Carnival. I didn't have that luxury. It was different in the town where I grew up.

The town up north is surrounded by water. Inevitably, every child's early memories involved water and anything associated with being near it -- sand, sun, shade. The most vivid memory I have were the quick picnics that my parents would suddenly call out. Instead of just having lunch at home seated at our designated places around the table, my mom would pack whatever was prepared, put them in a basket, and rush to ride my with us on my father's motorcycle. The favorite family spot was this little cove beside the road around two kilometers from town. After lunch meant basking in the sun swimming and screaming.



The funny part was I never learned how to swim. My dad would cradle me and teach me how to paddle my feet or float at least. I don't know, I never seemed to learn anything. We would do that weekly, and each time, I'd end up just stretching out silently on the shore and enjoyed being washed and watched.

Sixteen years later and a few weeks before I left my town for college in the city, I still didn't know how to swim.



Today, sixteen more years later, I have learned to move my feet under water and swim finally. I had to. I ride one of these boats four times weekly.

Virgin me

I'm never fond of horoscopes. They have never formed part of my daily readings. I just know I'm a Virgin, but what it means exactly is something I'm really unable to elaborate. So it was a pleasant surprise to have come across something like this.

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VIRGO horoscope
( aug 23 - sept 22 )

As a rule, a person born under Virgo horoscope is attracted to someone who possess good conversation skills. They love to talk and surround themselves with friends who are well-tempered, nonchalant, and intellectually stimulating.

If you're planning a date with people under the Virgo horoscope, try and avoid noisy places especially with lewd or obscene entertainment. A person born under Virgo horoscope reserved nature and insistence of good taste, would get more pleasure from a quiet restaurant with soft music playing in the background, than from a rock and roll concert. They would prefer a place where the two of you can talk.

You'll probably find a person born under Virgo horoscope to be very interesting and be able to discuss almost anything with them. However, don't be in a hurry to jump right in and ask too much about their personal affairs, since they may find it to be an intrusion of privacy.

It's a rare occurrence for a people under the Virgo horoscope to hand out praise, so if you're looking for constant flattery, you may want to keep looking. While on the contrary, if you're looking for advice or an opinion on a certain matter, a person born under Virgo horoscope will gladly participate.

Virgo's are careful planners and are constantly seeking personal achievement and financial security. People under the Virgo horoscope won't put up with frivolous spending habits and won't jump into a serious relationship without looking ahead first. Most likely a person born under Virgo horoscope are seeking a partner with practical ambitions exactly like themselves.

Once the a person under the Virgo horoscope has found someone worthy to share their life with, they will always be loyal and provide plenty of happiness. This responsible, sensitive, and intellectual person takes love very seriously. Although they may appear aloof, and distant at times, they are very sensual and warm people. If you win them over, you will be more than rewarded with a prosperous and memorable life with them.

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Sad for him

I decided to put off writing about an unfortunate incident involving me and "virtual" friend which happened a few weekends ago otherwise I might start spewing off unpardonable one-liners it just might cut off his head. The air is cool now, I have doused any likely eruption so to speak and so, I can now write without being affected by the slightest irritation.

Like a few of new good friends I have, I met V. through the blog. What do you say, blogging has become a new venue to spot people whom you think would be worthy of your talk time. That day, I was hopping from one blog to another till I chanced upon V.'s entry questioning about what he thought were outdated traditions that his church and family for that matter were imposing on him. His church choir, for example, couldn't perform black spirituals fearing that the congregation might rise to their feet and storm out of the church premises.

I thought his move to question norms and traditions sort of appealed to me since I saw in him images of my probing self. Anyway, I wrote a comment and that started one or two YM conversations and us exchanging contact numbers. But it's not like we would be in touch everyday. We keep track of each other through our own blogs.

Two Saturdays ago I think, I decided to try out a newly-opened internet shop fronting the grocery inside a new mall near my place. It's one of those moments when you wonder what the weekend has in store for you. I got a pleasant surprise when V. sent me private YM message, that kind where you ask hi, hello, and how are you in succession. It lasted a few minutes since I told him I had to go soon since the shop was closing. We'll just hopefully catch each other soon online to continue the conversation or he can let me know next time he visits Makati where I live. I can pay for coffee, he takes care of the stories.

A few minutes later, I got a text message from him. I wanted right away to ran down to the nearest drugstore for 20 Valiums. I was speechless, I felt betrayed.

V. : Hello! I never thought you're gay. I was hoping we'd hang out and spot girls. Hehe.
Me : Come on, V. It's not like I'm coming on to you. I'm one of the boys.
V. : Kahit na, ganun din iyon. To be honest, I'm scared of gays. No offense though.
Me : That's sad. Your prejudices precede you.
V. : Ouch.

That was it. And I couldn't believe it. I felt angry because I was put on the defensive. I felt bad that I appeared like imploring a person to believe me. I felt even worse that I was made to look like I deceived him. I kept my cool. I refrained from sending any more text messages.

The more I think about it, the sadder I become. This time, not for me, but for the poor guy. I feel sad because he let bigotry and narrow-mindedness triumph. I feel sadder because his supposed technical intelligence is soooo limited it doesn't even allow him to expand his thinking and accept diversity and its beauty. I feel most sad because he will never be able to find out how nice, compassionate, sympathetic friend I am.

By the way, I am never attracted to straight guys.

Fun, fun, fun

To cap the week, I thought I should do something light and fun. It's a good move to balance the gloomy mood next week during Lent. Ready?

YOUR PORN STAR NAME:
(Name of first pet + Street you live in)
-- Bob Lizardo

YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME:
(Name of your favorite snack food + Grandfather's first name)
-- Nova Cesar

YOUR FASHION DESIGNER NAME:
(First word you see on your left + Favorite restaurant)
-- Bodum Nostra

EXOTIC FOREIGNER ALIAS:
(Favorite Spice + Last Vacation Spot Visited)
-- Rosemary Los Banos

SOCIALITE ALIAS:
(Silliest Childhood Nickname + Town Where You First Partied)
-- Speedy Basco

"FLY GIRL" ALIAS (a la J. Lo):
(First Initial + First Two or Three Letters of your Last Name)
-- J. VAL (puwede na rin!!)

ICON ALIAS:
(Something Sweet Within Sight + Any Liquid in Kitchen)
-- M&M's Soy (anoo daww???)

DETECTIVE ALIAS:
(Favorite Baby Animal + Where You Went to High School)
-- Chick Basco (hmmm puwede!!)

BARFLY ALIAS:
(Last Snack Food You Ate + Your Favorite Alcoholic Drink)
-- M&M's Vodka

SOAP OPERA ALIAS:
(Middle Name + First Word you see on your Right)
-- Castillejos Starkist

ROCK STAR ALIAS:
(Favorite Candy/Dessert + Last Name Of Favorite Musician)
-- Bibingka Sondheim (siyeyettt ang sagwa!!)

About me

I took one fo those tests supposedly to determine more clearly the kind of person you are, the one that your friends normally barrage you with on email. To make things sound more really convincing, they choose sometimes to attach what it said about them complete with loud swearings to the heavens that they are absolutely true. You shrug your head and hope they really know what they're talking about.

Anyways, after I patiently went through the ten-point test, choosing the letter corresponding to my choice and afterwards affix the (number) weight equivalents adding them up to find the total, here's what it says about me. Let's just say, it's a glimpse of me.

Sensible, cautious, careful and practical. Clever, gifted, talented but modest.

Not a person who makes friends too quickly or easily, but someone who's extremely loyal to friends you do make and who expects the same loyalty in return. Those who rally get to know you realize it takes a lot to shake your trust in your friends, but equally that it takes you a long time to get over it if that trust is broken.

What a difference a candle makes

My place is filled with candles scented and plain. They come in all shapes and sizes and colors and brands. When lighted, they never fail to create in me a mood that makes everything look so serene and divine. A busy and stressful day is best capped with lighting candles and taking deep breaths.

A few weeks back, I was in Vigan. I went inside St. Paul's Cathedral and took pictures. I realized even candles lit inside churches have this calming effect on me.

Moves and transfers

From the time I was 16, I've been living separately from my parents. The first four years were spent in college where I endured the university men's dormitory for about a year, shared an apartment with a churchmate for one semester, and spent the rest of the time till I graduated living in a two-storey one-bedroom apartment outside the school. I would get my monthly allowance through telegraphic transfers from my parents who lived in a far north province. They expected me to make do and survive with the sum they send to cover, not just my board and lodging, but all my school and non-school-related expenses. It’s good my college undergrad was economics so I was somehow trained in allocating scarce resources to meet unlimited wants.

After college, I first stayed with a spinster aunt for a while since my paycheck wasn't anywhere near the slightest possibility that it can manage to pay for my own place. My parents probably would have wanted to help out, but I have a good feeling they opted not to --- only to make sure I wouldn’t be bubbling over too much on city life coupled with trappings of independence and an emerging active social life. I’m sure they trust me, but they weren’t at all sure if I was ready. A year later, the commute from my aunt’s place to work took its toll. I persuaded everyone that it was best to be near my workplace to save me small money and lots of unproductive time. I shared apartments initially before love came and relocated me to a three-bedroom house where we (by virtue of being a couple) occupied the biggest room while two other single friends lived in the other rooms.

I moved out of that house on the hill ten months later because of, well, a terminated contract. Everything ended with W and me. It was as if world turned upside down the next few months as it saw me renting one of the rooms in a three-room house occupied by a couple and another single guy. I stayed there close to a year at least. Since my sister wanted that time to move to Manila for work, my parents suggested if we can stay together in our own place, possibly an apartment within Makati so we won’t have a hard time adjusting to a new environment. By then, I was practically a Makati resident for at least three years.

And so my sister and I moved to this old two-bedroom apple green apartment that looked more like a misplaced building in a pretentious address. During the rainy months of July and August, there’d be times when we can’t leave the house in the morning for work because the street fronting the building would be flooded. We don’t have any other choice but to call in sick. This would happen at least twice each year. Even then, we endured and lived there for at least three years primarily because it was also near the school where I was taking my graduate studies. Come to think of it, the only good thing about the place was that it made going to school after work more bearable since home was just a few minutes away after class.

When my uncle’s family migrated to the US in 2001, they floated the idea of us staying in their house since they didn’t want to rent it out to just anyone. I was the only person allowed by my uncle to stay there in their absence. I was going to be some sort of caretaker. No rent, but I’ll pay for utilities and other expenses. It was a tempting offer. I thought I’d save up a few more bucks in exchange for putting up with Manila’s notorious traffic. The house is located in Marikina, God knows how many kilometers away from Makati where I work. I loved the place. It was a welcome relief from the daily stress from work but in a few years, we thought the costs far outweighed the benefits so we packed our bags again to live again in Makati, this time in a flood-free area complete with roving guards, stand-by utility men, and Ate Bebeng, my ever-faithful househelp.

So far we're enjoying our new home. My sister's social life, and in a way mine, are slowly breathing life again. Many things have changed. We, more or less, manage to sleep longer now and enjoy more activities than before. The only thing that has remained is this: singlehood.

Downelink and parades

I spent some time going over Downelink this afternoon and got sooooo overwhelmed with the unbelievably magnificent collection of openly Pinoy gay guys currently profiled in the site. I couldn't believe it, I kept asking, where are these guys every last Saturday of June each year when the Pride March is held? That way, we will leave strong mark in the faces of bigoted men (and women, for that matter) that we're indeed a massive amount, a huge number, a large mass, a whole force to reckon with.

Since the time I first started joining the Pride March in 1998, I observed that I would see practically the same faces each year gathered in Malate for the walk. We have grown practically familiar with each other and often joke questioningly if we're the only out and proud creatures in this part of the world. As we tread the streets of Malate, we see guys one after another watching us from the sidelines, the same one's we'd bump into one of those bars we'd frequent since they're predominantly gay. It's a sad sight, I must say. I wish they can experience the tremendous relief that can only come from a proud declaration made alongside other gay brothers and sisters. I tell you, it's very affirming, very affirming.

Marriage?? Ugghh

It has crossed my mind a few times how, over the years, my parents might have been so eager to see their first-born grandchild either from my younger sister or me. I don’t blame them. They’re in their sixties, old enough to be grandparents whereas we’re half their ages at the moment, old enough to produce offsprings.

I’m sure my parents have talked about this countless times in their private conversations. They usually do this when they both stretch out on the bed ready to sleep or when they both wake up middle of the night and decide to have a one-to-one instead of racing to find sleep. I know this because I have eavesdropped a few times when I was a kid and I’d sleep in their room. I just wonder, how exactly do their conversations end when they talk about me and my sister against their yearnings to be grandparents. They know perfectly well the rightful response. They don’t have to think hard enough for it. Their conversations actually don’t have to go far. The answers to whatever questions they have are staring at them squarely. It may not be too appropriate for me to detail all the reasons, but let me say the grounds are in themselves justified and valid. Otherwise, my strong-willed mom would insist on her way.

It just makes me think sometimes, aren’t we harsh?

Summer look

Summer's just around the corner. You can feel it when you go out of town. You have a feel of it when you do lunch outside the office. You can smell it when you're in a crowded place. And, the most divine of it all, you can take pleasure in it from the hundred and one ways you can plan your look.

This one here, which I culled from Out, tops my list on the look in my dreams this summer.



Let's go out and parade colors this summer.

It's how you say it

It’s one thing to be frank and honest and straightforward and true, but it’s entirely and absolutely different thing altogether to do it with prudence and good judgment. It’s what makes bluntness something that’s relished, candor a virtue. It's also what spells death to friendships.

So many people have become unsuspecting captive of this hazy idea that, in any conversation with friends or otherwise, what matters only is that you’re able to speak your mind, to get things out of your system, give your cents worth. I don’t know what’s with these people or how they were raised, but they for sure have misconstrued unfortunately the idea of frankness as if it’s a license to express one’s opinion with complete disregard for diplomacy or the faintest hint of being kind or having concern for other people.

I sure admire people who have opinions on things. I think that's very attractive. I admire them even more when they can eloquently put these into words. But my admiration ends when rudeness starts to creep in. I don't know if takes a special gift from heaven to notice it. Otherwise, in that case, I may have been generously gifted with it. I can be very good in spotting opinions that have heart to those that are just smooth talk.

Being honest is good, giving honest opinions is remarkable, but all these become useless if they don't have a soul. What makes them build friendships and encourage life is that they are shared with a genuine concern for the other person's welfare. It's not enough that one is able to say what's on one's mind. It should be said in a way that it builds rather than destroys.

A new sport

At the end of each year, I pre-occupy myself not heavily with new year's resolutions, but with deep and serious thinking about which new sport I should engage in for the coming year. It has been my personal motto to learn one new sport each year, perform really good at it, and enjoy myself in the process.

My search for one new sport every year has brought me to places near and far, to mountain summits high and low, rubber and wood flooring inside covered courts, and mostly good time always and in all ways.

For this year, I'm inclined to consider getting in one of these boats every weekend morning along Manila Bay. I joined a local dragonboat team last Saturday for my baptism of fire so to speak.




There are at least ten local dragonboat teams in Manila. Many of the teams have separate men and women line-ups. Some are school-based, others are units within the Armed Forces, and a large proportion are comprised mostly of free-spirited young professionals who are likewise engaged in other adventure or extreme sports. For instance, there are those who regularly join triathlon competitions or are affiliated with a local mountaineering club. It's good that around three friends from my mountaineering club are veterans in the new rowing team I am set to join. It makes things easier.

On weekend mornings, training call time is set around six in the morning. After a ten-minute stretching, loading starts at the bay near the Philippine Navy compound. One after another, a team loads a boat for around two-hours of rowing from the Manila Yacht Club area all the way to the US Embassy side, around two kilometers at least. Around four legs are usually completed before heading back to the dock.



It's a punishing sport, but it offers a tremendous sense of fulfillment. It's not one for those who are used to doing things on their own or, worse, who have the tendency to be inconsiderate of other people. It's a team sport, one that teaches putting team effort above personal comfort.

I hope I'll have a good time in the coming weekends. Since there's a competition in May, the training in the coming months may be rigid. It's too bad I will have to give up probably some of my out-of-town trips. I guess I can't have it all.