the end

Water puts out fires. So does wind. So does silence.

people learn to lie

I waited for ages for signs if I could be in a relationship again. Of course pain was the reason why. My heart once was weak and my mind was gullible and somebody told me “I love you” but didn't mean it. So I quit on loving. 

Quitters don’t win—sure is a proven adage, but it has become a cliché with less credibility. Thus it's all wrong agreeing with it all the time. When I told myself my heart had to convalesce and decided to cease from giving special attention to supposed “special people,” I felt more secured. Thus, quitting doesn’t always mean losing. It also means protecting oneself; shielding the heart from the threats of decisive tongues and cunning gestures.  You see, quitting cuts both ways. But these were mere realizations. People are stubborn so realizations don’t matter. 

And history attempts to repeat itself. Somebody came but I’d learned to lie. 

So I went and played the field—clinging onto the slightest hope I would run into someone then friction follows. Many a times i would guess it happened but would later realize that I was kidding myself again. It’s indeed not easy to compel the heart to give what it doesn’t have. But life runs like a wheel. I met someone and my emotional bank gained unexpected interest. I was finally ready to be in a relationship again. 

But history repeats itself. And all people learn to lie.

unwanted law

“Anything that can go wrong will go wrong” states the Murphy’s Law. Quoted that from Wikipedia, and I personally declare that this is more of a fact than a mere adage as many people claim. This declaration is triggered by my personal encounters with situations twinned with the said law—of course my assessment to such situations is also subjective. I am not soliciting anyone’s approval nor disapproving anyone’s opinion. Oh, well my purpose is not to come up with a scholarly article for the subject, but to share my engagements with it. I am listing some of which and you are more than welcome to see for yourself if you have gone through the same.

1. FYI: I am living in a studio-type flat with two fellow text messaging addicts. So it will sound ironic if I said, “network coverage inside is scarce as hen’s teeth.” There are certain spots in the house where we place our mobile phones to receive messages and calls. But we have to be out of the building or race to the rooftop when someone’s giving a ring, because answering the call inside would mean talking to Ms. Silence. Difficult as it may sound, I have been accustomed to it but it still irritates me each time I wait for ages waiting for a call before taking a shower, and just when I’m all wet, my phone rings like it doesn’t have plan to stop.

2. Have you gone shopping and fell in love with a shirt and rushed to the fitting room to try it on but found it unflattering? Thus, you looked for another size and your preferred color but failed to find one? And when you asked for the sales associate for assistance all he/she could tell was: “sorry, this size isn’t available” or “sorry, that color isn’t in store”? 

4. I’m not into rubbing any on my face, but back in 2009, I worked for a government agency and was compelled to put on face powder. My boss even bought me a canister of face powder so I could give no reason for not applying some. But after weeks of using the powder, pimples, one by one, mushroomed on my face. So my boss again bought me a facial lotion that according to her, would prevent pimples. I used the product and glad that it was surprisingly effective. After a month or so, I had to buy a new one. But I almost visited all stores where I could possibly get the product and ended up empty handed. Until I finally learned that the product doesn’t circulate in the market anymore! What a bummer! But let me clarify that it was not the reason I quit the job. 

5. Cancelled an appointment or did not go to work due to sickness? Done it many times. When the unwanted feeling is nascent, you’re kind of skeptic texting your boss that you can’t make it to the office. And when you think you have to see a doctor and texted your boss about it, your boss left his/her cellphone at home. And the worse, you went to see your doctor and by the time you get to the clinic you suddenly felt better. So again, you decided to cancel the check up and as you got home you didn’t feel better again. 

(subject to editing)

a child's happiness

Happiness to a child is a balloon held by the hand,

a canister of candies, a castle in the sand.

Happiness to a child is a fried chicken on a platter,

a bite to an apple, a bowl of soup when there’s fever.

Happiness to a child is a pair of slippers,

an umbrella under  the sun, a sweater  in a cold weather;

Happiness to a child is a time with fellow children

—to slide in the park, to chase bugs in the garden.

Happiness to a child is the present in a sock;

the blowing of birthday candles before friends that flocked.

Happiness to a child is the pencils and bags and coloring books

the nursery rhymes, the ABC's,  and story books.

Happiness to a child is the pillow fight with brother or sister,

a bedtime story of Father, a goodnight kiss from Mother.

Do you think this child is happy?

passion or future?

When I was a kid…

…many a times I was asked what I wanted to be when I grow up. Answering the question was a no brainer, but never did I do it with a template because truth was, I wanted to be many. I wanted to be a doctor, a scientist, a painter, a teacher, a pilot, an engineer, a lawyer, a magician. I even wanted to be a performing artist. I was ambitious—extremely ambitious so to speak.

But I just realized that those ambitions were designed by my inexperienced being. I only wanted to be a doctor because I thought I would look good on long white coat with the stethoscope laced on my neck; I wanted to be a scientist because I thought it was cool if I could make myself an armor I could use in stone wars against kids in the neighboring barrios;  I wanted to be a painter because my plain, nature-loving eyes were deeply in love with the beauty of my hometown; I wanted to be an engineer because I thought if I were one, I could build a huge tree-house atop our mango tree; I wanted to be a teacher because my grandfather was a teacher and so were many of my aunts and uncles; I wanted to be etcetera because my innocence said so. I wasn’t truly ambitious.

When I turned six and had to go to school, I couldn’t fathom my excitement when I saw my school materials. I even slept with my bag the night before the first school day. I was actually awake most of the night. Now I understand why many kids are eager to go to school. The new pencils, notebooks, bag, paper pads, and the daily cents on hand tell it all. But the excitement only lasts for days. Because as the school materials get older, the appetite of schooling wanes.  Certainly, parents don’t expect a first grader to be totally comprehensive of the most profound essence of schooling. I still clearly remember Mother kept saying: “Study hard or you’ll be like us someday;” “Study hard so you won’t have to farm someday;” “Study hard so you’ll be able to buy what you want someday;” And more study hard so you’ll be or you won’t be blah blah blah someday.  It was a nightly ritual and had to endure it. Poor Mother, we didn’t have a cassette player. She could have recorded the sermons and played them on dinner time and could have her fair share of the food she prepared herself. Did she know that meals always ended with her reminders taken for granted? There, who would have thought I’d deal with dear life seriously one day? 

Well, like other humans I grew older. Maturity they said befriended me earlier than the usual. Perhaps it’s because I was acquainted with the facets of difficult life at very early age. The early dealing with responsibilities somehow made an unfavorable impact toward my schooling. I preferred earning money than earning wisdom, but thanks to Mother for always reminding me the edges of being educated. I finished grade school and high school with so many struggles. Not because I had the slowest brains but because I had to compel myself to like schooling. But college was a different thing, so I did what I could to finish a degree though without flying colors but with satisfactory grades. Haha! “Satisfactory” of course should not be the satisfactory standard of getting grades. One should aim beyond satisfactory to grow, and that, I did after receiving my diploma. Not too late though especially when I finally ascertained what I really wanted to be. 

Teaching is no easy profession. I only realized that when I was already doing the job. An idealistic person would say that the profession’s rewards could surpass the riches one could accumulate from a successful business. Why, yes! What else can be more rewarding than seeing a child saying his ABC and counting his 123 with the beam of confidence in his eyes? Can there be more rewarding than listening to a child saying the words and sentences he worked hard to learn? Can there be more rewarding than seeing a proud mother applauding as her child reciting a poem? Can there be more rewarding seeing a child bowing before an audience after a nerve-wrecking piano recital? Can there be more rewarding than seeing a young man holding an office in a very reputable company? These are but a few of the rewards of being a teacher. I will need all the time in the world to enumerate all. These rewards made me truly in love with the profession. These rewards made me discover my passion. But I once asked myself: “Will I survive this ever challenging world with passion alone? Will my passion lead me to my dreams for my family?” I quit teaching and ventured another field. I became this and that, but still my will is craving for the one I left behind. But if I were to go back to teaching, it wouldn’t be for money, but for the call of duty.  

life is...

"Life's a story with many episodes. When an episode ends, another one unfolds."

awakened

He saw, but only saw the beauty the naked eyes could

Many times did he sway with her scents

And collided in her soothing caresses in the mornings 

Indulged in her accommodating bosoms;

His innocence gasped in her river of concoction.

 

 

Never did he see, the beauty that could carry him through

Beyond the horizons, to the bed of pleasures

That takes more than a whole life to measure.

Because nothing compares to the joy that elicits

From a safari of groans and moans and shrills.

random thoughts triggered by boredom

There’s a smorgasbord of ideas to jot down even on a tissue paper in a coffee shop when the pen is on the itching hand of a wannabe blogger. Yes, I know I’m an amateur in the field so I choose my readers. Sorry to those who unintentionally come across my blog site and throw up after reading my articles including this one. Nah, nobody has told me incidents as such. I am just being anticipant.  I mean, I don’t write like the pros do so beware: this write-up may break your day. It is not worth reading. I can only promise that when my pen slides, the sincerity goes with the ink. But I am not trying to change your mind.

When he was but knee-high to a grasshopper, he would cape himself with a blanket, jump from the bed, and shout his favorite superhero’s moniker with clenched fists even the superhero wasn't the very famous Superman. He would play in the backyard with other naughty kids in the neighborhood and would end up in brawls. He would masterfully patch his reasons up when the monster mom of the foe gets in the scene. Most of the time, he would get scratches on the knees, elbows, and on the face because of his sundry of curiosities. How and why were his favorite questions. He would also run after rare-looking dragonflies and giant grasshoppers and end up gasping on puddles of mud and carabao feces. The scenario would always remind him of the fantasy comics his lolo kept for ages in a wooden chest. He could be very impossible at times because he would not give up climbing trees to chase the ever elusive cicadas. And on isolated cases of triumphant chase he would eventually free the winged creature because it doesn’t dree-dree before his waiting inquisitive eyes. He could be ridiculous because in the first place he knew a cicada wouldn't share a decibel of its sound when in captive.  He would then go home with torn shirt and scratched arms he would try to hide. Habitually, he would cry the pain of whips from his disciplinarian father, but would do again the reasons of the whipping. 

He was stubborn—very stubborn.

On his very first day in school he could be crowned "the most behave boy in the corner." Did a single soul notice his eyes saying,  “Enjoy this day, the rest will be mine.”? It happened. The bullied boy at home became the bully in school. He was all skin and bones and no taller than a sitting dog, but could scare away a boy or two of his age. Once the class was sweeping and pulling weeds in the school yard. A chirping bird was heard but its whereabouts couldn't be traced. Boys and girls went searching but failed. Suddenly a brown winged creature fell from a banana tree. He looked up and saw a nest protruding from the fruit cub. He thought of climbing the tree and gave up catching the fallen birdie, which the other kids chased with cheers. Just when he was about to climb, a bigger boy pushed him. And with a little effort, the other boy reached the top. But he didn't give up--he knew what to do. With a few swings of his bolo, the giant herb collapsed against the ground with the rude boy crying in pain. He picked up the nest and hurried home. The next day he was at the principal’s office with his mother. 

He was pain in the neck.

Young and carefree he could be labeled, but his young mind knew that the world was not surrounded only by beauty. He lived in a world that was seasoned with atrocities—ones he battled, failed, and triumphed with. When he was nine, he started doing jobs of the grown-ups. He used to endure the burning heat of the sun in the fields as he plants corn seeds that he would harvest in the dog days of summer. He would get up in the morning and join his tiyos and lolos shovel gravel and sand along the Cagayan River and deliver them in far-flung places of the town. The creek, which was on foot away from their house was his friend.  There he would gather clams and sell them in the neighborhood—five pesos a glass. Most of the times, he would be promised to be paid but was not. He never asked twice for the reward his labor deserved but he never forgets those people. They who cheated a young boy who perspired for a living. Some of whom have been resting...

...six feet under the ground. 

He has forgiven them. 

School was not his favorite place. There were times he’d rather climb up the santol tree across their tiny dwelling where he would spend half or whole of a school day. Up the tree he would sometimes see his mother doing the laundry and catch himself giggling over his unbecoming behavior. He would also swim in the river with other lazy grade schoolers and end up fabricating reasons before the mad school  principal, school counselor, and class advisers. “What a bunch of crap!” He would always tell himself. Mother and son then would go home and he would see her cry. Often did he see her weep—when he gets a big wound; when he’s badly sick; when he gets punished by Father; when he visits the principal’s office. But not on commencement exercises. She would see her smile as she puts on the medals and ribbons on him. Would you believe it? Kidding aside, he was a consistent achiever despite his misdemeanors.

Now, this is humblebragging. So I’d rather park my pen.

Note: I haven’t edited this post so bear with the flaws.

shards

                                                      Like a dew drop on a clover leaf

Our friendship was safe beneath canopies.
But came the dog days of summer,
The dew vanished into the humid air.

the master of guise

it can be a stare, a glimpse,
a naughty wink of the eye;
a pout of the lips; or a wide smile.

it can be a word like "hello;"
a tirade, a sentence, or a phrase;
a reason, a cause, an alibi.

it can be a satire or a sonnet;
an essay or a letter to a friend just met;
or an adulatory address to a royalty in a banquet.

it can be a handshake;
a toss of glass in a cocktail gathering;
a  kiss on the cheek; or a soundless grin.

it can be a teardrop
that flows down a rosy cheek;
or the beauty of a lady in a gloomy street.

it can be a promise,
a proposal, an acceptance.
it can be a man or a woman in a long white gown.

it can be an interviewee in a nightly news;
or pairs of shoes that toddlers fondly use,
or an insistent advertisement of a famous bath soap.

it can be the thick gray clouds
that hastens to gather the laundry.
it can be the tempting color of the sour mulberry.

it can be your friend, a seatmate in a bus;
a neighbor, a stranger at the back of the door;
or the colorful flowers on the speechless wall.

it can be the person beside you;
or the one you share meal with each day;
or a slithering  pet that's always waiting for a prey.

it can be emotions;
--sad, glad, mad.
or the skin of a model in an enormous ad.

fake, synthetic, pretension, call it the way you want.
at the end of the day you know the bottomline.
it's a lie, and nothing but the ever disguising lie.

Beware.

Cheesier than Cheddar

Was alone and planning what to prepare for dinner when my eyes caught your presence. How dare you get there and dazzle my systems with that killer smile; with those bewitching eyes? Did you know I could feel my heart pounding against my chest? What potion did you sprinkle in the air that made me follow you and braved to say “hello?” Please tell me, so I won’t by mistake, free myself from this spell. Because it’s but sweet forgetting myself each time we hold hands and talk in the eyes.  It is but like heaven seeing you smile and kissing your delicate hands. 

The first time you bade bye was a bitter pill I swallowed. But glad I was quick to capture an image of you in my mind, so I see you even my eyes are shut. And when I get up in the morning it is you I see, the reason why I hum love songs in my tiny bathroom. I know I am far from being a seventeener again. But what can I do if I indeed feel that way?  It’s your fault. Yes, no one’s to blame but you. And I’d like to chastise you with constricting hugs and sweet kisses. Would you let me to?

Have I really gone nuts? Because each time you call I catch myself smiling wide. And all I can say most of the time is “yes” and “no” because my excitement eats my senses and i barely get the gist of your words. Sorry if I don’t make sense at times. Hearing your voice just carries me away. Would you knock my head if you saw me that odd? Hope not because as I’ve already insisted, it’s your fault. You’re the only one at fault. 

When I say “I miss you” and you say the same to me, I get engulfed with strange emotions. Even I only read the phrase in my cheap cellular phone. Check my inbox and you’d see your name alone. Err, not your name, because you know, just like any other romantic “jologs” out there, I saved your number with the “I LOVE YOU.” Wouldn’t you like it or would you rename it? 

Now I am terribly missing you. I know I’ll see you again, but each moment without you means sadness. I hope you can stay for good and indulge me with your spell. Do not vanish into thin air.     

got this poem from a friend, Mr. Sherwin Cesar

Dunno what he's thinking. lol!

But i see the talent in each line.

So now he's with the club. :)

Pain or Glory?

By Sherwin M. Cesar

Living is enduring

Bitterness, sorrows, and sufferings

Frustrations are indeed hurting

But without them life has no meaning.

Like helpless garden shrubs and bushes

Grape vines, sweet berries, and roses

To pruners they succumb their tender branches

To make them grow and richly flourish.

In giving birth to a child

Mothers have to suffer and even die

When the world hears little baby’s cry

Tears of joy seem to fall from the skies.

Precious metals have to endure

The harshness of blue angry fire

To jewel lovers they will allure

When finally they look fine and pure.

When somebody feels weak or ill

He must bear the pain of biting needle

Swallow poignant syrup and bitter pill

To regain his strength and be fully well.

In life we need to taste failure

Even the pain of losing, we must endure

In sailing towards vast horizons, though we’re unsure

Wise and strong enough we’ll face the future.

(Dedicated to a friend)

promdi

Spent my childhood running up and down grassy hills; building make-believe empires with playmates in the woods where we put up our castles out of bamboos, banana leaves, and gmelina trunks; playing Tarzan by swinging on young banana leaves we sweated to hook pole and  had to hotfoot every time an elderly with a bolo arrived ; fishing with Father from dawn to twilight, one thing i consider the most thrilling kiddie task; raiding  the towering fruit bearing trees--mango, lolly fruit, pomelo, among others, despite the unfriendly army ants that were always ready to trigger war; building soil castles in the midst of the just ploughed cornfields; filling my pockets with a handful catch of crickets; lying on bed of carabao grass under the bright moon and sharing stories with friends about ghosts, cyborgs, and monsters. I indeed had a childhood not every child in the metropolitan have or had.

But were my high school days as fun? Not fun at all. Going to high school meant CHANGES. A threshold to maturity the old people say. And maturity demanded a great deal of change. No more fabricated stories under the huge moon; no more make-believe empires and dilapidated castles; no more ransacking fruits up towering trees; no more soil castles in cornfields; no more pocketing crickets; and many more "no mores." There were only more midnight candles to burn; more new stuffs to learn; more people to acquaint with; more money to spend. But thanks goodness the changes in the environment were not as many. I could still see trees with their tempting fruits but preferred not to climb them and stoned them instead. I could still see fishes playing in the clear waters of Cagayan River but preferred to buy them instead to catch them myself. I learned to prefer doing tasks that I found boring during my grade school days. Did growing up mean getting lazy? That's the funniest question I had in mind. Because at the back of my mind i knew it wasn't. Because I had to do my laundry on Fridays; because i had to prepare my daily meals; because I had to press my uniforms before going to bed at night; because I had to clean my room; and so on and on. And all these I had to do all by myself. 

When i went to college i realized that high school was a training ground for a more challenging world. College life was more demanding and could drain off the best of me. But thanks Almighty for giving me the dose of determination i needed to beat the odds. I finished my degree and now I earn my own bucks. See? It wasn't easy getting to where i am now. Oh, dears I am no big fish yet. I' am just an average waging office man. Well it’s the least I can get through so far. Hmmm, how about getting to an executive position? Never mind. Put all seriousness aside and rather reminisce on the ludicrous sides of changes I've had as once a rural seed to an office sprout in the extremely perplexing Metro Manila.

THE ARRIVAL

Was still coiled in my favorite blanket when the bus had the final stop. I could hear voices and movements but ignored them and gave way to my braying heavy eyelids. That's because I thought it was only one of the several stop-overs. Of course I was embarrassed when the driver's apprentice caustically said "Cubao na boy."  I concealed the red face with a smile, fixed myself, gathered my stuffs and disembarked. I was welcomed by the honking of buses, by the hoot-hoot of the metro rail transit, the unfriendly smog, and by the culled human sounds--of passengers, mongers, bystanders, vendors, drivers, children, to name a few. I couldn't figure out how much more noise my hometown market had to produce to equate the noise in the terminal. And that scenario was just the first of the turn-offs that almost sent me back to my hometown. I thought I would rather endure the scorching heat of the sun, till the cornfields, have as early as seven o’clock goodnight sleep, and say hello to every crowing rooster in the neighborhood at dawn. But optimism dominated my seemingly succumbing drive. The moment my fetchers arrived, we waved for a cab and my urban adventure began.

THE JOB HUNT

It took me weeks to land a first professional job. I braved to apply for a teaching position in a language center and was on cloud nine when the hiring manager announced the good news. And the rain poured heavier because aside from my classroom classes, I was also given loads for the night shift as online EFL teacher. I also got home tutorials and the school was mere on-foot away from my boarding house. It was an awesome start for a career I thought.

Beforehand, I remember myself exploring the very unfamiliar Ortigas Center, traversing every street and submitting copies of my “JOB EXPERIENCE” deficient resume in every office I knew. That day I met a slender woman in her early thirties. Have you been compelled to listen to strangers talk on how they gained wealth by selling these and those products? I was awed by the speakers’ skills but was upset by the fact that I couldn’t grasp on any rope of the business and yet was there enduring the boredom. But again, I chose to be polite and didn’t run until all speakers were done with their novel-like talks. Only, the day ended with kilometric SIGHS on my part. It was a traumatic experience. I felt abducted.  Lesson learned: Do not talk to aliens. 

The next day was positive in all aspects. I had a good sleep despite the abduction; woke up healthy and just felt fully charged; had a hearty tocino breakfast; and loved my new coif, which I would never want to wear “ever” again.  Sandwiched a copy of Manila Bulletin want ads in my armpit and off from our studio-type flat in a jovial mood. I took the northbound bus and glued my eyes alternately left and right to spot the building mentioned by the ad. And when I saw it I felt a sudden feeling of uncertainty. Must be because of the looks of the building I assumed. Still, I alighted from the bus photocopied a copy of my resume and looked for the office of my future employer. I was surprised to see many other applicants, majority of whom, attired in corporate and looked young. They were seated in rows and occupied filling out forms. The feeling of uncertainty I had in the bus was replaced by eagerness. I surreptitiously made a sign of the cross and entered the room directed by the not-so-pretty lady concierge wearing heavy make-up. There I was given a test that reminded me of high school quizzes provided by lazy teachers. That is to say, the test was peanut so I finished it with overflowing confidence. And I was not surprised to know that I made it. I wasn’t even proud. Goodness! My grade six niece could answer those questions with not a droplet of sweat! But I couldn’t claim a bragging right, because if I was indeed smart, I wouldn’t be duped. But I was D-U-P-E-D!

Here’s how:

                HR Assistant: Congratulations! You passed the exam.

                Me: Really? I didn’t expect that!

                My Alter Ego: Liar Romeo!

                HR Assistant: You got a pretty high score.

                My Alter Ego: Sure I did. It was a grade-schooler’s stuff moron!

                Me: So what’s next?

                HR Assistant: Are you gonna pay seven hundred pesos now?

                Me: Seven hundred pesos? What for?

                HR Assistant: We need the amount to process your papers.

                Me: Hey Alter Ego, what am I gonna do now?

                Alter Ego: zzzzzzzzzzzzz…

                HR: Are you paying now? You can come back tomorrow if you don’t have the cash yet.

                Me: Hey Alter Ego! What now?!

                Alter Ego: zzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

                Me: Okay, Will pay now.

                HR Assistant: Alright, wait for a call and show this stub when you come back.

I dragged my numbing feet out of the room with the stub on my hand. My brain was floating. Yeah, still had brains those moments, i wouldn't be out of the room if I didn't.  Weeks passed and I never got a call. My housemates were right when they said I was scammed. I didn’t even waste more time running after my seven hundred pesos. Honestly, all I could do was curse that damn company. Not because of the money but because of the marred reputation of my vigilance. And my tongue was formidable. A month or so after, the company was raided by the Quezon City Police. Thanks to ABS-CBN’s XXX.

THE SERIES OF HILARIOUS EVENTS

It was a Sunday, around three in the afternoon. Took a jeepney to Shangri-la Mall to see a dear friend. (to be continued)

                                                                                                                                                                 

just methinks

"Arriving at Betty Go Belmonte Station. Paparating na sa Betty Go Belmonte Station." the bilingual itinerary reminder would always echo. Just like the ballads I've learned by not  memorizing the lyrics, I may have subconsciously consumed that daily bread in the train, and ignoring it has become a knee-jerk reaction. There are other things that catch my attention and at times they can be a chain of emotions. I shortlisted them. Check if you have already come up with some of which.

1. PDA, (not Philippine Dentists Association) colloquially, stands for Public Display of Affection

Okay lovers, we are complete strangers in your eyes but we've got emotions and we get embarrassed seeing you kissing, necking, and pecking. Get off at the next stop and get a cheap room. You are rated "disgusting."

2. RMC or the Rumor Mongers Club

The train isn't the right place to position yourselves for comfortable chatting. And you don't sound great dishing out dirt on people. You can blab all your life but don't feel at home inside the train. This aint your living room mongers, more so not the alleys where gossiping is a norm.

3. Pole Dancers

The poles in the middle are set for everybody's use. Less agile passengers tend to lose control because there's nowhere to hold onto when the train takes a curve or a stop. So don't hug and lean on poles like you own them.

4. Excuse Me Fella

Saying "Excuse me" is polite but only when practiced appropriately. Don't say the phrase when you mean "you're sorry." Neither say excuse me when the train stops and obviously  you're not the only one to alight.

5. Me Oldy Respect Me

Gone were the days when the elderly are given priority in public transportation and the train is no way an exemption. Can't agree more that we have to give way to the elderly because they are the weaker bodies. But it's frustrating most of the time when you offer your seat and not receive a very simple "thank you." Saying thank you is not much to ask compared to giving up your seat and endure the leg pain until you get to your destination. Old fellas i surmise have forgotten the values they say are worth living with. They sure aren't senile yet because if they are, they wouldn't be nowhere but home.

6. Pretty Woman Durr!

You are pretty your mirror on the wall tells you. Well I say your mirror lies. Do not ever look at me like i am drooling over that cleavage paved with thick makeup foundation. Looking at you doesn't mean you are stunning. It means "YOU  ARE WORTH STONING" (Emphasis overload--italicized, capitalized, boldfaced, quoted). Act according to beauty. Take note of that.

7. Showy Techy

You've got the coolest gadget, okay we know that now. But would you mind toning down the volume because we're just not into listening to your type of music. And don't talk to your caller like you're both deaf. For goodness sake, you have the headset in your ears!

8. Agent CC

You Call Center Agents are the A Listers of the RMC (no.2). Just because you speak English and talk the loudest. Alright, you've got the coolest job on earth. But you have logged out of your office computers so you are now back to your normal beings. Get real guys or you may want us dissect your sentences.

9. Queue Crasher

Regardless of gender, age, religion, nationality, etc. Follow this simple rule: "Fall in line." No matter how long the queue is, it's still piece of cake spotting the tail so there's no reason to get into the middle and act like no one's after you. Unless you asked and is granted permission; or would you rather be handicapped? Include "shame" in your diction and use it all the time.

10. Sleepy Head

Your eyelids are getting heavier and heavier and falls your sweaty head on my disgusted shoulder! It is but normal to be sleepy especially when the day at work turned stressful. But make sure you had your head shampooed so shoulders would be more accommodating. I am just being bold and I'm sorry that i can't think of a more tactful manner of advising.

There. Got my list. Do you think the same or i am just over reacting?

  

The Other Woman

Nine months of carriage in her womb; whole life of nourishment through words to ponder on: What I am now speaks how she has reared me and I venture say that she’s done a sterling job. I love her so and I know life wouldn’t be complete without her. Ergo, my prayers aren’t complete without asking Him to give my old woman, longer and healthier life.  But I am sorry Mother because there’s one more woman I love the way I love you.

I seldom saw her in my childhood but I knew she had had the kindest heart. I still recall when Father and Cel, my youngest sister, met her in the city nearby. She bought us school supplies and treated us meal in a well-known restaurant. Young as I was, I could easily appreciate such gesture and didn’t have to convince myself to treasure the moment. I’ve never forgotten her since then. But that was the last time I saw her until my high school years were over. Thought I would never see her again.

Life was financially tough so sending us, siblings, to college was a big challenge to my parents. I knew and felt that they always dreamed of a bright future for us. But I also knew and felt that they didn't have the means to make the dream come to reality. Cel and I took exams for a scholarship program and we both made it. But adhering to the polices of the program, only one could be honored and i knew it couldn't be me. So after high school i decided to get a job to help get the money coming in. I didn’t even have to ask my parents because I knew it would be very awkward for them to say “Sorry son, we have worked so hard but...Okay, you may get a job and...”

I worked for a gasoline station and believe it or not it was a dream came true. That’s how superficial I was; just like a child whose ultimate goal was to ride a bicycle on his own. But two years after, the sight of my high school classmates in their uniforms and backpacks lead me into collision with envy. It was great Father was so ready when I told him I wanted to go back schooling. I didn’t have the slightest idea of his plans neither did I expect I’d see Aunt Esther again.

Going to college made me feel belonged to a dreamers’ club.  I was given a sudden hope for a better future for myself and for my family. But success doesn’t come without challenges and one of which came earlier than I expected. Father passed away before my first year in the university ended leaving Mother his responsibilities. Mother was only fifty when Father died but she had become sickly so couldn’t work to the fields as she used to. My dreams once again seemingly lurked in the dark clouds of November. But I was so wrong because Aunt Esther didn’t give up supporting me. My thought of her leaving my family for good since her brother has passed away was surprisingly false. From then on, my respect to her grew bigger; unfathomable. 

I finished a degree with Aunt Esther standing by me till the end. She wanted to keep me near but I was so ambitious that I escaped and preferred to explore the metro. I was sorry I did that but was sure she would understand. And she really did. I miss my aunt so much. I don’t have the courage to tell her but I really do. Apart from Mother, she will be one of the women I will never forget. Thank you for the selfless love auntie.