On High Schools and Destinies

Around a decade ago, I was in high school. (Yes, a decade ago. Bah!) High school should and could be the best and worst time of one’s life. It should be the best if you were at the top of the food chain: athlete, cheerleader, student council member, thick wallets. Worst if you’re a misfit or just plain dork. High school was, for me, well, it was more of a memory than a phase.

I kinda never gave a damn about high school, or school per se for that matter. We were taught that if we go to school, study hard, not miss classes, excel, et cetera, we will succeed in life. Elders, tito, tita, tell that to the jazillioners abroad who created this little networking site called Facebook and now owns everyone’s time and attention. Hey, doing good in school does give you an edge when it comes to the real world. And I cannot really preach about this stuff if I myself never excelled in my institution. But I did finish and graduate. That means I did something right, yes? So why am I stuck in a dead end job? Because I foolishly believe and placed my so-called fate in motivational garbage like “Everything is possible once you put your mind to it,” or “Dream big,” “Reach for the stars,” “May the Force be with you...”

Fate and destiny makes it easier for us to live. It gives us hope, blind hope. It’s a vicious circle. You want to succeed? Find a rich relative. You want to be loved and matter? Be rich.

Do I sound like half-minded bitter idiot? I probably am. Am I making a point? No, not really. I don’t even have any goals here. I just felt the need to write. I, however, was trying to connect high school life with what I’m feeling right now. That feeling of wanting to belong. And I miserably failed. Even my transitions sucked!

Now that that’s off my chest, I still feel horrible and spiteful. Yep, still got it! (--.)

Needy Much?

Look, I know the odds are against me. And she ain't about to even the scales any time soon. And with my track record, possibly never at all. Call me foolish for hoping for some affirmation, but can you really blame me? Genuine appreciation will do. Not the obligatory and polite ones. Yes, one should never expect. But do sane people really never expect? So easy to say, "Never expect. That way, you won't be disappointed." Testify! And it's certainly very easy to reply, "Oh, I don't," complete with the sheepish grin. And maybe, we really don't. But is there really a difference between hoping and expecting? "Not expecting but hoping." How annoying is that statement? Especially if you believe in it.

I get it. The timing's all wrong and off. And I respect that. So I'm playing the waiting game. And for those of you who really know me, I am what you would call a grandmaster when it comes to waiting games. I know it's too much, but, I'm gonna have to ask, again, for a little reaffirmation. I'm slightly needy. There I said it. I am. But for someone who have never, ever got who he wanted, I'd think twice before throwing rocks at my direction. I apologize for wasting your time. I'm just hurt. (--.)

Didi Benami

Vered Didi Benami

What does become of a broken hearted? Well, I, for one, am. Such a sad, sad day for me as my personal American Idol, DIDI Benami leaves this season. Words cannot express how depressing this is and how frustrating the season has become. DIDI is different. She ain’t just a finalist that I’m rooting for this season. I will go as far as saying that she is my favorite Idol ever. She may not be the best, but there’s just something about her that melts me every time I hear her captivating voice and that oh-so-perfect smile.

In the past seasons, whenever my favorite leaves the competition, I swore to not watch Idol anymore but ended up not missing any episodes anyway. Probably because I consider meself a true Idol fan. But not this time around. It’s oh-so-different. Countless proclamations of this season being the worst ever. And I agree with them. And the one saving grace for me, DIDI, was sent home packing. Why bother? I have no one to look forward to. At least in the past, when a good one goes home, there are still other finalists who might be less deserving but will be more than happy to piss off everybody by bringing “moments” week after week. Not this year. I do not see anyone that will blow me away the way DIDI did.

DIDI was the first Idol hopeful who I believe the judges actually considered using their save for. It’s just that to use the save this early in the competition is highly unlikely. Regardless, I feel screwed.

Thank you, DIDI Benami for auditioning and making it to American Idol. You gave me something to look forward to on Wednesdays and Thursdays in the three months that you were on air. Please continue your music career as you will always have a fan, supporter and an admirer in me. Yes, indeedy, DIDI! (—,)

Thank You, Cory

We are running out of icons.

Last Saturday, August 1, 2009, I was not generally eager for my weekend as I was obliged to visit my father in Bataan. The depressing weather and leaving very early that day did not help at all. It could not get any worse. It definitely could. It was all over the news: Ex-President Corazon Aquino passes away. I was devastated.

Thank you, Cory! Thank you!

I could write about her achievements and how great she was…but I would rather not. If you are a Filipino, you know what made her who she was. I will say this though: no death of a person affected me this much. Which is weird for an EDSA Revolution baby on grounds that it is obvious that back then, I was not yet aware of what was happening in our country. Maybe because she was the president I grew to love when I was finally coherent. Or maybe because she was that lady who always wear bright yellow outfits and never failed to smile on her every image. I also have the utmost respect for a female commander-in-chief and heads of states, so that may very well be it.

I cried when I was watching this documentary about her. I cried when they shared the love story of her and Ninoy. (A Scholastican and a Bedan…perfect!) I cried when they showed clips from the People Power Revolution back in ’86. I shed a tear and saluted when her remains passed by Ayala-Buendia. I cried when her family and close friends gave their eulogies. I cried when the AFP gave her the funeral honors a former commander-in-chief deserves. Like I said, I was devastated.

After five days of serious Philippine mourning, things are back to normal. Filipinos are mostly back to not caring about anyone or anything than their own selves. Crimes and negativity are yet again apparent and main themes of news reports. People are enjoying themselves by discussing showbiz gossips. Politicians are using Mrs. Aquino’s death for their own political gain. Individuals waited for her to be laid to rest before writing negative thoughts about her. Blah, blah, blah.

President Maria Corazon “Cory” Sumulong Cojuangco Aquino was, is and will always be my favorite president. Thank you, Cory. Thank you!

ReAPEr

Do not mistake my confidence with courage. I’m not some little sissy girl but if I can avoid physical conflicts or any conflict for that matter, I shall! I can probably talk my way out of most things, again, not involving courage; definitely attributed to confidence. So, it’s just normal that I have phobias. Never really gave it much thought and just try to get by it if need be. But for the past 50 days or so, this being terrified of sharp objects reached gigantic scales.

A visit from GREAPER2

Annual Physical Exam, what else? Some things I dread annually: that random two weeks I will be seriously sick, my birthday (reason being I age but I love the festivities), and the worst: company physical exam. I hate sharp objects, okay. It’s not the pain nor the blood; it’s the whole thought of being poked by a needle and your precious blood extracted. Gory and uncomfortable, I tell you. But, as the law applies to all or none at all, I have to comply. Every year, I get by fine. Good, right? You’d think I’d be jaded by it after all these years. Well, I thought so too. It’s different as the deadline approaches.

It was announced early last month, June, that we have to undergo the damn thing. What can I do? Simple: prolong my agony by procrastination, which is actually stupid because it prolongs my agony. So, for almost or beyond 50 days, I was terrified mentally, exhausted physically, and seriously ill-tempered. I would say that it was worse this year than the last two as I felt like it really affected me personally. It’s over though. I had accomplished it this morning. Like last year, a few seconds and my dilemma is effing over.

What do you know, two of my most dreaded annual moments happened within the month as I also had that “very sick state.” Wow. I must have really pissed off those people in-charge or someone who dictates my fate. I may be skeptic about you, destiny, but nevertheless, I’m sorry. Please do not stick sharp metal objects into me again.

P.S.: and someone important got hitched this afternoon.
Well, that’s that. Congratulations!

Sickening

Second blog in less than a week, something must be really wrong with me. Oh, yes. I am stuck home yet again. This time around, I am sick. Gots to give meself credit. I have dodged viruses and disease-stricken teammates for a month or so. Thing is, once I come down something, I’m useless, well, more than usual.

Sore effing throat matched with dry cough is never fun. I usually dismiss these petty ill feelings by thinking that it’s nothing and I’d be well in no time. It will need much more than some minor sickness to make me miss work day. (No, not loyalty. Please! More concerned with the repercussions I will suffer after as companies such as ours does not really care that much about the health and welfare of their employees, well, at least if they don’t follow SOP). Not today.

I followed SOP. It’s just that I missed the “call-two-hours-before-shift” rule by nine measly minutes. And with that, it’s my second insubordination in less than a week. I feel honored. But what can I do? Our work force people were born to annoy and make matters worse for us. So do not give me that “just-doing-their-job” thing. In Jamie’s words, “I do not give a flying fuck.”

I miss my past superiors. I feel they care more and handle the team properly. One of us gets sick and you actually believe they genuinely care and will do everything in their power to make sure this sickness of yours is not used against you. That’s a leader right there. Nowadays you get sick and it’s your fault that you did not anticipate you being not well and you should’ve followed SOP and you should do this and you should do that and you should follow this…again, not giving a flying fuck!!! Hate being sick so much, it sickens me!

Stranded in Merville

Wow. Actual free time write to something. And wouldn’t you know it, I have nothing interesting to share. So I’m stuck home, on a work day. Here’s why. All Parañaque service road exit points: Nichols, Bicutan, Moonwalk…flooded! And I mean ridiculously flooded. I was already in the comfort of a Besta van shuttle along West Service Road, for an hour and a half, to no avail. Even trucks are not risking it. Chickens! So I just went home. Why is it that every time I wear my light brown socks, they always get wet from water pools and flood?

I think I saw a bald monk running towards the bell tower...

Lots of people are envious of my situation as I get to rest or watch DVD the whole day. Damn straight I can. But then again, I can already feel the memo and reprimanding of the T&C council members tomorrow. We all know how sucky BPO policies on emergency leaves are. You’re already bleeding to death or your legs decapitated and you still ain’t excused, unless you call! “It is not our fault that you did not anticipate what you experienced!” I wonder. Let’s say you work in the outsourcing business, same rules and policies apply. For some reason you’re a suspect and is detained. You only get one phone call. Do you call your attorney or your company’s workforce? Obviously, your lawyer. But admit it, for a split second you were considering calling your office, right? Bah!

So I just wasted a perfectly normal working day doing nothing. Ah, yes. Exactly how absentness should be spent.

I just realized. Heaven forbid, there is a zombie attack on where I live, and there’s a massive storm like now, I’d die! We’re trapped. Like I said, all points! I’d be eaten. Tsk!

EDIT: It’s already 5:00 pm and only an hour left before my supposed shift ends and our work force is still busy! Impressive, most impressive!

If You Seek A You!!!

If I ever get to be an old person, I mean just like those old guys who smell funny and have loads of stories, I think I’d be the totally grumpy kind. My mother says I got my petulant trait from my Lola Tits and probably from Uncle. I get irritable easily that little petty things tend to annoy me so much. Ever since forever, I distinctly remember being ill-tempered for no apparent reason. I’m not impatient. At least, not anymore. I used to be really intolerant of whatever situation I am in. But I got over that. Then again, impatience is very much different from annoyance.

For the last three weeks, my irritableness just reached gigantic proportions. “With great power comes great responsibilities!” F*You, Spiderman’s Uncle! I do not have great power, just added responsibilities. When they finally gave me the opportunity that was rightfully mine for the longest time, they think they can do anything they want as they have me on leash. Hah! Apparently, they can!

You see, I am very much grateful for believing in me but that doesn’t mean I will be happy with whatever it is you people deem necessary and good for me. This is about my schedule, yes! Bumping me up for a later shift and actually moving me to weekdays, what the hell were they thinking? Are they even making their noggins work? For 25 days I’ve been ranting and hating thinking about it, trying to accept it to no avail. It’s becoming a problem actually. Small and feeble instances will tick me off even if I understand that I shouldn’t be reacting that way. I fear it might put strains to whatever relationships I may have with those who care.

I believe that...
...their decision-making sucks big time!
...the weather’s making everything worse.
...people need to ask me out on weekends as boredom is depressing!
...commuting was invented by the devil to make people suffer!
...people are generally bad individuals because they are not good!

“Stop being a bitch, Tim! There are far more major problems people are facing everyday than your pathetic feelings towards your schedule!” “Well, fuck you! First of all, I do not give a damn about other people’s problems as I have my own dilemmas to tend to. Secondly, I just seriously don’t care.”

SON OF AN EFFING BITCH!!! If I could, I would seriously shout nasty words at the top of the tallest building in the city. If it’s possible, I would gladly throw and break freaking dishes as they say it is actually therapeutic. I just know these things will help big time. Do I need anger management? No. I am still in control. But do I need to take it easy? Definitely. All these resentment: not good for the health! I swear, my rage will do me no good!

Of Blames and Summer

The literary gods must really resent me right now. March for me, blog-wise, not even worth mentioning. And this entry’s going to be short so don’t expect that much. I just want to let everybody know that my fingers are still intact and that my brain still works. At least, I think it still does.

What gives anyways? I have no idea. It’s not like I don’t have stories and ideas to share…believe me, I have lots of those. I may even have discovered the cure for the common cold this month. Okay, maybe not that extreme but I do have lots of things in my mind: countless tags, gimiks and trips, interesting situations, and even the departure of my wingman. But no!

Thus, I’m blaming it on summer. Since summer is here, one is obligatory to leave the comfort of the city and embark on long road trips and settle in some privy resort a couple of miles from civilization. Obvious, isn’t it. (But then again, that excuse only works for the weekends.) Next up would be putting the blame on my professional career. Summer here is fall in the States. Fall for some reason gives us ridiculous amount of jobs. Busy, busy, busy…that’s how we are in the office. (But no one’s ever going to believe me.) On to my classic reason: my insatiable drive to follow and watch my shows. (Classic, like I said.) And finally, the heat. Yes, it’s too damn hot and warm to write. My brain’s getting fried. (Now that, people would believe that.)

Whatever the reason may be, I feel dumb. Not blonde dumb, but you know what I mean. I haven’t even shared my feeling soul-less for the past few weeks. I have to start writing voraciously again. I have to, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I will. LOL. I’m hoping though. In the meantime, just wait for my “March” blog on the day of the fools next week. (--,)

P 2,500

“Car Day” – a day in my life where I have to wake up early to bring my car to Quezon City to have it fixed or checked out.

I had always mixed emotions when it comes to “car days.” First, Quezon City is far. Why in the north? Because all the good mechanics are north people, and I have come to love and trust these toothless car laborers. Sure south people are as much knowledgeable when it comes to vehicles, but they also charge more. Much too fancy for my disposition. I don’t really look forward to car days because it usually results with me shelling out my riches (whatever that’s worth LOL) as having a car is synonymous to having your very own offspring, only prettier and sleeker. Hehehe. That makes my second reason: it’s freaking expensive for any repairs or useless pimpin’. Thirdly, I am just lazy to wake up on Monday mornings. And let’s face it; owning pre-owned automobiles, there will be more “car days” than national holidays.

My “Decepticon” of a car...

So, last Monday, I had one of ‘em “car days.” I’ve been putting off this important obligation to my car for quite some time now. And since December is just full of events and trips, my means of transportation must be in perfect running condition. We don’t want another Company Party Car Fiasco just like last year. That was really embarrassing! So, this time around I had several agendas: buy new tires to replace the balding ones, change my tire rods because they’re shaky, fix my idling screw because it’s screwing me, have it aligned as it is going to different directions when I don’t steer. Hah!

New tires: P 4,500
Tire rod joint: P 1,300
Labor: P 300
Alignment: P 400
Jonjon: P 250
Stupidity: P 2,500

Notice the stupidity? Yes, I made a booboo and it cost me P2,500! Why? I rammed my rear end to a “parked” car when I was backing. Emphasis on the “parked car.” I mean, who rams parked cars, right? Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! After a whole day of waiting while repairs are being made and grease-stained instances, I was finally done and was going to our ancestral home to have dinner. So I was backing and was waving with a stupid grin on my face to the mechanics. Then, bam! You know that classic expression where you know you committed something stupid and you know the inevitable is about to happen? I had that. Stupid. His damage: his bumper is scratched pretty obvious, some part was broken inside, and his rear side is dented. My damage: a single scratch line on top of my plates. Hah! My car’s a Decepticon! Good thing the owner was nice and not one of those car enthusiast maniacs. The car isn’t his anyways but it belongs to his brother-in-law. So, after a couple of car-related jokes and some negotiations, he settled for P2,500. And I sped off, running 40, safely, towards the sunset.

I may crack jokes about it but I really am lamenting over that P2,500. I was saving, well, actually for nothing, but I’m still saving. It’s so hard to save something for the longest time and then you lose it over sheer stupidity. Oh, anyway, what’s done is done. Maybe it’s a way of the Blessed Virgin to remind me that it’s the Feast of the Immaculate Conception and I should honor it. I did. Well, that’s another memory to add to what is already a memorable date: December 8.

Mamang

“How do you cross the line from robbery to murder?”

It was what Bianca asked me when she finally went online after the tragedy. I wasn’t supposed to write anything about this, the family wants to keep this tragedy private. But when she shared the story, she made a point there that made me feel compelled to do this. Mamang, as all of us call her, the mother of Tita Ayie, Tita Ayie being Mum’s bestfriend, a close family friend, was murdered last November 19, 2008 at their residence in Manila. She was 86. They were robbed and the robbers looting her jewelries and stuff decided to take her life as well. It is not fair for animals to be compared to these bastards; they are much, much worse.

Be happy with the Lord, Mamang. Look over your family.

It was around past 7:00 am when Mum’s celfone was ringing non-stop. She’s taking a bath and everyone knows I won’t go near ringing phones or buzzing alerts. I was still somewhat asleep then so I just let it go on and on and on, and then I dozed off. It was a shocked gasp from Mum that made me come to my senses. “Nac, pinatay daw si Mamang.” What? I must be dreaming. It’s not a statement that you hear everyday, and don’t ever want to hear really. Normally, I’d be grouchy from being awakened by loud voices and avoidable noises…not this time. I hurriedly did my morning rituals, and before you know it, we’re off to Tita Ayie’s house. It was the longest trip to their place ever. When we got there, that’s when it all sunk in.

Investigators are everywhere and the body is still there. Like what Bianca said, I wouldn’t go to the details on how she was taken from us…it’s inhuman and unforgivable. Tita Mat was being comforted by some neighbors, and then I saw her, Tita Ayie, always as strong as ever, trying so hard to relate to the police what had happened. At that point, no one can really tell what transpired; just the specifics. Someone broke into the house around 3:00 am to 5:00 am, successfully ransacking Mamang’s room and stealing some valuables, and then…

Knowing that I wouldn’t be of any help, I decided to go ahead. I have work that day and I need to get my mind off the horrible incident anyways. The whole day, I was in awe. I was still my classic self with smiles and everything, but then I remember, and my thoughts shut down. “Why did she have to die like that? She’s old. Couldn’t she have gone peacefully?” I mean, what kind of human being--wait, no. They are not human beings. They are not capable of emotions! I only told one friend about this because it’s hard to keep something like this to one’s self. I felt like I’d break down each passing minute as I struggle to contain the heartbreak.

When I got home, Iya told me that the police had caught the criminals. There were five of them who went inside Tita’s house but only one of them did the deed. It was their youngest member, a 14-year-old kid, who felt like he was cheated from the plundering and decided to report to the authorities the whole thing. Their ringleader, a 20-year-old man, admitted to finishing off Mamang. He was their neighbor. And here’s the irony, the media decided to make the story more interesting by publishing online articles that Mamang was the bad person. The killer even went as far as to blame her for being prejudiced against their religion and was making his life miserable with her constant bickerings. All these inaccurate reports that weren’t even written by legitimate reporters…it just adds grief to the family.

No, Mamang was not prejudiced about other religions. She may be blunt and direct to the point, but she was always sweet and cared for her family, even to us, her extended family. So those petty articles are really inaccurate.

Mamang, I will miss you. You made the meanest spaghetti and this native ulam that I forgot. You were taken away from your family in the harshest and nastiest way possible. Nevertheless, I know by now you’re looking down on us wishing for our happiness and relief from grief. Thank you so much, Mamang!

Here’s one of those better articles about Mamang’s killing courtesy of Bianca. “Five Suspects Held for “Lola’s” Slay.”

Video from Youtube.com/cocom12

Godspeed, Jonjon

KNOWN for his daredevil moves and keen outside shooting, former San Beda King Red Cub and University of the Philippines point guard Lino "Jon-jon" Tabique Jr. thought he had the game all figured out. Like any athlete, he felt invincible on court. He was a fleet-footed playmaker who could authoritatitvely orchestrate the team and fearlessly take the game-winning shot. Until, at 21, he was told he had cancer. Tabique now carries with him the fear of dying young.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I'm still going to wake up tomorrow. And I keep thinking that I don't want to die. So I just pray. I tell God to give me one more chance,” says the soft-spoken Tabique.

It's a fear that the UP Fighting Maroon has been battling since January this year. Tabique was first diagnosed with tuberculosis, but further tests revealed he had stage 3 non-Hodgkins lymphoma, a form of cancer affecting the lymphatic system. The lymphatic system is made up of tissues and organs that help the body fight infections and other diseases. And just like on court, it's still Jon-jon Tabique's competitive spirit that's pushing him to win the biggest battle of his life. “I don't want to die. I will fight to survive.”

-Excerpt from “Fighting to Play Again,” a 2004 Philippine Daily Inquirer article by Jasmine W. Payo. Got this from his cousin, Mae, online.

Lino Tabique, Jr. or “Jonjon” to us, his high school batchmates, lost his long battle with cancer last November 13. It was while browsing around Bedista.com that I read about this really tragic news. Jonjon was “the” man on campus during our high school years. He was the King Red Cub and star basketball player. But one thing that differentiated him from the stereotypical jocks of high school years, the guy’s humble. Well, coming from a private all-boys institution, you can’t take away the naughtiness and mischievousness of the students, but still, he was never a jerk. He had always kept his feet planted in the ground.

I can’t say we were that close. But I know the guy and have the utmost respect for his accomplishments and all the glory he brought to our beloved school. On and off-court, Jonjon made a name for himself. He was a good friend to his barkada and a great leader to his teammates. He will be missed.

Like what Thops said in his tribute blog, I’m also thankful for having to meet one of the greatest Red Cub there was and a good batchmate. I’m also thankful for letting us feel what it’s like to be a champion by sharing your basketball talents and bringing home countless victories for San Beda. Thanks, pare!

That in All Things, God May Be Glorified!

Thops is cooking up some tribute thing for Jonjon. While he’s working on that, I borrowed the picture from his Friendster. Sorry for the late entry, man!

“Wa”La Vida Lavada

I miss having help around the house. Instant pancit canton in a matter of minutes, a liter of ice-cold tea in the fridge, every nook and cranny spotless…and so on and so forth. You see, ever since we moved here in the suburbs, we decided to let go of house help. Ironic, isn’t it? Our place may not be those of New Manila or Forbes Park, but people here are a little above middle-class. Iya & Mum decided that we won’t need the services of maids since it’s just the three of us and we can manage. They believe we are domesticated enough to refuse help. Fine, the maid won’t have any place to sleep here anyways. Getting to the point, since we don’t have employees to do household duties, we “outsource” our chores--meaning: we have our clothes laundered in this quaint laundry shop just outside of our village. I have no qualms about it since they’re service was quite impressive…until earlier this week.

Oh, my dear shirt, don’t you ever do that to me again!

Our arrangements were simple: they pick up our laundry or I deliver it to their shop, they wash the clothes, and they deliver it to us, hassle-free, right? So it was really surprising to find 24 articles of clothing in our batch that does not belong to us. Okay, will just return it. No harm done. But then I found out, some of our belongings were lost. They’re explanation: they have this new labandera who mixed up everything. Idiot! Sorry, but for the longest time we trusted you guys and then you messed up. I wouldn’t be this irritated if they did not lose my favorite shirt. You know, my Simon Cowell navy blue shirt. You might have seen me wearing it now and then, probably often because I really dig that top. It’s comfy, it fits fine, and it makes me look good that I already do. LOL. They also misplaced my shirt with a necktie print on it and my Capt. America (that’s what our other TM calls me when I wear it) t-shirt. Along with the shirts are four Mum’s pants, several bedsheets and towels of Iya, and other stuff that weren’t accounted for. Idiot!

But fuming mad as I was, it all turned out fine. Over dinner, the owner’s daughter personally came to our house and delivered the missing pieces and a month’s worth of apologies. She said that she personally went through all the laundry to find those items that we listed as missing. Now that’s what I call service. Whew. Still, like every overly dramatic relationship humps, it may take a while before we trust each other again. Haha. They broke our hearts and it takes time for the trust to surface once again. Maybe it’s best that we take our laundry someplace for the meantime. Who knows, one day, we might be able to forgive what they did to us and let them wash our dirty garments once more.

The Road to Perdition

If there’s one thing I hate…wait, wait. Let me rephrase that. I hate a lot of things and no particular peeve stands out. But if I have to share some of what I detest most…it would commuting. At the risk of sounding like an arrogant jerk that I am, let me at least explain why. For obvious reasons of how terrible public transportation in our country is; the unreasonable prices of fares; the public itself; super duper ridiculous traffic; trucks who think they are road royalties; and much, much more--it really makes you wonder how people gets to their destination in one piece. While I have the means to drive myself to work everyday (except Thursdays as the car’s coding that day), with the prices of fuel and auto maintenance, I just can’t possibly rely on driving to get me to where I need to go.

Where’s Wally? No, not the one in Sogo jeep!

Just this week I was late for two days. Big deal! It is, for me, especially if you’re late for just a minute. Can you believe that? Just a fraction of a minute and it ruins my schedule adherence. No, I ain’t after one of them Schedule Adherence awards which I achieved for having an almost-perfect attendance, but still, it’s one of the few things that I got going for me office-wise so please, do not take it away from me, public transportation environment man or whatever the hell you should be called. And to top it all off, my car’s rear was bumped by a stupid jeepney on my way home tonight. We’ll cause traffic if I stopped and confront the moron so I decided to drive forward and deal with the idiot on a much wider space. I was never really the confronting-type but you do not mess with one’s car. I stopped and went out of the car but the ignorant bastard sped up cowardly. I got your plates though, you uneducated commoner! TVF 972 EDSA-Taft to Alabang route.

Good thing, good ‘ol Charley’s tougher than she looks. Not a scratch nor dent in the rear and everything’s fine. Thank the heavens! Now that the holidays is just around the corner, expect busier roads and more commuting-related hassles. I suggest walking if it’s humanly possible. You get to have good exercise and lesser pollution. Just be safe everyone!

Ban on BLUE

Okay, I ain’t much of a crusade kind of guy but my Tita Rina asked this as a favor. Let me call her Reg, she’s my tita but she’s literally eight months older than me. Well, she sent me this and requested me to spread the word out through my oh-so-many readers. Pretty much self-explanatory if you ask me.

This is to warn you against buying BLUE brand laptops. We bought a unit last July 20, 2007 and after 14 months of use, it broke down due to a defective motherboard as per diagnosis of their service center. They want to charge us P15,000 for its replacement. We tried to reason with them since the unit is relatively new, and they have to do something about because the customer may not always be right, but customers still have rights! We believe that a company such as this has no place in their consumer business because they do not care about the welfare of their customers. WE PROPOSE A TOTAL BAN ON THE BLUE BRAND OF LAPTOPS!

See? Scary but the woman has a point. When she first mentioned this campaign of hers on bulletin boards in one of her social networking sites, I thought it was nothing. “Don’t buy Blue laptops!” Okay, I prefer red anyways. I haven’t got the slightest idea that “Blue” is actually a brand of laptops. I feel for her because our unit suffered the same fate as hers a couple of months back. And by some stroke of bad luck, both diagnoses are the same: faulty motherboard. Good thing ours made it to the one-year warranty, so all we had to pay the service center folks was our kindness. Anyway, laptops are known to have a shorter life span per se. So, just take extra care for those notebook owners out there. Their parts are more expensive and they’re not really upgradeable. Love your laptop. Hehehe.

PS: Let me just clarify that BLUE is a brand not the color. Hahaha.

Suburbs & Saturday Nights Suck

The suburbs suck…and so does Saturday nights! Yes, it’s only Thursday but I cannot think of anything to write about and video streaming is becoming a bitch, so, the suburbs and Saturday nights suck. Let me explain. Friday and Saturday nights are supposed to be fun and nonstop partying till the break of dawn. Friday nights, not so much as I have work on Saturdays so I can’t really go all classic me during the night before the weekends. But Saturday, well, should be a whole different story. (I so miss the Friday Club) My last working night of the week, supposed to be, and what happens after shift? I’m home by 10:30. Go on, all together now, the “L” gesture on everyone’s forehead.

My solution: house parties. Will it work: count on it. Feasible: most likely. When: never. What’s wrong with the suburbs? Well, minus the pretentious homeowners, nothing really. It’s just that I’ve been a resident here for three years now and I can shamefully declare that I, yours truly, do not have any neighborhood friends. There I said it. Our community consists of kids and young people whose age ranges from toddlers to teenagers; and the majority, adults. For some reason, the twenty-something demographic count is one: me.

Wisteria Lane minus the hot housewives who’re desperate

Good thing my two teenage cousins live five cartwheels from my house. Or else, I’d lose my sanity from being surrounded by hell spawns and ancient creatures. Still, they’re that, teenagers, and they have their own groups and friends. (Can’t hookup with anyone in their circle as I am guaranteed to go to jail if I do) I’m so envious to this particular neighbor who hosts weekly Saturday night sessions with her friends and kada. What’s stopping me? I tell people where I live and they’re all of a sudden busy. No, I don’t live in the projects, au contraire, me dears. But Paranaque’s not really commuter-friendly. I, myself, hate riding public transportation from and to our place. But however boring or uneventful living here, this is still my home and I’d probably think twice when an opportunity to move comes knocking at my front door. Unless, of course, we get to have our old house in Manila back. Mean time, Saturday nights will continue to suck for an indefinite period of time. (--,)

Salon Price Hike

I have always loved salon days. Months ago, I wrote something about it being my only luxury. And months passed, and it’s still the only thing I treat myself constantly with…that is, until this morning. Mum and my Tita were to have their own respective trip to the salon and so naturally, I would’ve went with them so I could get my haircut for free. Good plan. That is, until we called for reservations. For some ridiculous reason, Bench Fix Hair salon decided to go all petroleum-like and raised their rates. Son of a…Used to be P285 is well, still pretty pricey but I figured, once a month and a half, right? I could manage. But the receptionists specifically told us that now they’re charging P350 per cut! Are the hairdressers and barbers also suffering from recession?

I’ll probably still go and get my haircut at Fix, and be happy about it. Like I said, my stylist there is the only one I trust my hair with. This presents a dilemma. Well, it’s a big deal for me anyways. I was thinking of letting my hair grow like it used to, my “F4” days, (refer to the scary accompanying picture) but my hair doesn’t grow that quick when I’m aiming for that long haired look. And my current messed-up style is easy to manage and doesn’t require that much effort. For now, I guess, I’ll just schedule my salon days two weeks before an important event or occasion. Grrr…the moment I get filthy rich, first thing I’m gonna spend on is hiring a stay-in hairdresser! I swear! Mwahahaha!

Go Reproductive Health Bill!

“Please join our signature campaign to prevent the Reproductive Health Bill from being passed by Congress…” Bleh! I’ve been hearing this line every Sunday for a month or so now from our priests here in our parish. No. I have nothing against religion. I can safely say that I’m a Catholic, just not that devout like my family is. And that, probably, is the reason why I think the moralists preventing the passing of the Reproductive Health Bill is just utterly ridiculous.

What? You want more people in our already over-populated archipelago? Do you not trust your kids to do the right thing? (Hmm…not really a good argument. Haha.) Those who came up with the bill are just being practical and right. It’s the freaking 21st century, unless the Church will launch a crusade like it did in the medieval times against horny people, mankind will have sex--protected and planned or not. Might as well be safe while doing it, right?

What about the sanctity of marriage? I don’t wanna go there. Frankly, I don’t wanna go up against the super scary forces of those old women in blue uniforms (not hypocritical at all) and the equal rights for everybody groups. I’m just keeping my mind open for what the RHB can and will do for us. So, please, spare me from the campaign against sex bill. It’s not even fully about sex. Unless, it’s a line for a guest list…I ain’t signing nothing!!! (--,)

Drawing

As far as I can remember, I have not desecrated any divine places or important shrines. So, why are my plans not going the way they’re supposed to be? In fact, they’re not going anywhere at all. Two times this week I was invited, and twice I was left hanging…alone! I hate it when plans do not push through. All the excitements you feel and investments you put as time passes by towards that moment, and then they cancel--no, cancellation would be polite; not saying if it did push through and they just decided they didn’t want you after all is just cruel. Maybe that’s not how it went down, I’m just over-reacting. Then again, who wouldn’t resort to disappointment and frustration? Well, why should I apologize for feeling that way? I was the one who got the short end of both sticks, right?

Like I said, September should be interesting. And it is. I just didn’t see it being all negatively interesting! No more “plans” for me, at least, for the mean time. I am so used to the word “umm,” excuses, and changes of thought; I’d pass out if someone agrees with me. Why do they have to be so elusive? And, seriously, why do I even bother?

Of Epical Storms & Heartburns

Trinoma to shop, Greenhills to look for a particular present, Gilmore to get my camera fixed, Quiapo for obvious reasons, Robinson’s Place Ermita just because I haven’t been there for ages…these are my supposed to be itineraries for today, Monday. Yes, I know it’s impractical to fit all of these in one day, so I didn’t. I decided that Trinoma’s my best bet as it will carry all the things that I wanted to do on a Monday. Okay. I accomplished nothing. Figures.

But I did stick to my Trinoma plan. I decided to park my car first so that I’d save gas and parking fees, and riding MRT will get me there 30 minutes tops. Somewhere along the way, I met Edward. I invited him to accompany me and he agreed. Upon reaching the MRT station, I changed my mind and opted to just stay where we are: the undying Glorietta mall!

Three things I needed to accomplish today: 1. Buy present for Mum 2. Buy Eclipse paperback 3. Buy preppy cardigan. And, as expected, na-da on the whole agenda thing. My gift ideas suck, paperbacks are out of stock, and they no longer carry the cardigan that I want. It’s not like it took me that long to decide that I want that sweater. Is three months really that long? Haha. So, for safety purposes, I just bought the last book of the series even if I will not be able to read it yet. At least, I have the final book when the time comes.

And then, the ridiculous Armageddon-like rain struck Makati. Thousands of people are evidently stranded and one can actually see flash floods in the streets of the city. Scary, actually. I met Mum and titas at this Chinese resto as we wait for the rain and flood to settle. On the way home, Mum had an episode while I was cruising pass Magallanes, so we decided to stop by Shell Magallanes so she could recover. She started chilling and chattering and she felt kinda numb all over. Oh, man. I’m always calm on situations like this but her stubbornness doesn’t help at all. Good thing she had the affability to call my uncles and aunts for help. Upon their arrival, we decided its best to just rush her to a hospital, Makati Med, and we did. The result: heartburn and GERD. Tsk tsk tsk. Mainly because of stress, fatigue, and anxiety. Just goes to show how hard-headed she really is. Now it’s prohibition on almost 95% of all food. Oh, and this stupid doctor that we had to see because it’s a Sunday, prescribed her some meds that were in conflict with her heart condition and what she’ currently taking for it. Add that to the result and you get off to the hospital you go.

Anyway, everything’s fine. Next Monday, I’ll probably just stay home and just be boring. I could do without the epical storms and health hazards. Haysh. My rest day suddenly became a very st--rest--ful day. Maybe the Blessed Virgin is trying to tell me something. It was her birthday, by the way.