Nobody But You.

There's a TV commercial for an electronics shop in Toronto called Bad Boy in which the owner summons people to buy from him and blurts out Nooobody!  He is saying nobody can beat his prices.

And one time, I heard my two year old nephew Ben Ben singing "Nobody, nobody but you." And I heard the same song over and over again from radio stations while driving around Manila streets one day last September.

Now there's a film titled Nobody, Nobody but Juan, a Dolphy starrer.

It seems the word nobody is a buzz word these days.

I became a nobody almost two years ago.  That was when I lost my quite comfortable paying job in which I toiled and developed a profit centre from scratch.  My boss, a British-Canadian who was new at the executive post preferred to side with an Anglo instead of me, an Asian.

I could have brought a suit against the organization but I figured I was not happy anymore being a team member in a non-profit which was over layered and acting like a spoiled brat within the non profits.

That incident worked to my advantage.  My stress level went down from 100 to 10, I became better prepared for a surgery and I re-discovered creative writing. In short, I became a somebody.

The period of recovery wherein I was a nobody was a bitter pill to swallow. But in the end of the "nobody phase," I became a better person - happier, more enlightened and more lovable and more loving. Thus, I am thankful for being a nobody.

Things started to happen. Even on the financial side. 

One unforgettable incident of 2009 came to surface when during my "nobody days" I became a somebody by chance.  I began to notice the wonder of books and took up serious reading, and most amazing of all, I started to dream again. I became seventeen once more and started to believe that dreams can become reality again.

It was randomness happening all over.  It created, it got things suspended, it animated, it turned things upside down. And as random as it is, it could decide one's fate without one even knowing it.

The year is coming to its close in two days.  That's why this post is a kind of summation. 

I was watching the Metro Manila Film Festival Awards last night and heard almost all awardees thanked God for having given them the trophy.  

Though without any film to boost, I,  too thank the Creator for having blessed me through these years.

Tenth Day.

When we measure things or care to remember things, we always tend to emphasize the fifth or the tenth. We hear people say, "it's our fifth wedding anniversary, or it's my tenth year in the firm.  It's my daughter's fifth birthday or it's my father's tenth death anniversary, etc."

Day after Christmas, I've been in Manila all of ten days. The first few days I was here, I was zombie-like having just recovered from flu and stress.

But on the tenth day, something wonderful happened. I woke up to a perfect sunny day, ate a bowl of hot oatmeal after days of eating "sinangag, tosino, and champorado" for breakfast, and started to moon over again.

I bought a Kenny G CD the other day and listened to it last night, and then played a Michael Buble.

Hey, I want the standard "Happy New Year" greeting come my way over and over. 

And to you and all... HAVE A HAPPY AND PEACEFUL 2010.

Sunshine.

I'm working in my computer and the morning sun fills the living room with its glorious ray. Outside in the garden, the reds and greens and oranges and yellows fill my heart with excitement.

It's the day after Christmas and if I were in Toronto, I'd probably be still under the comforter savouring the artificial warmth of the thick bedfellow. 

But I'm in Manila!  The sun breathes its natural glow and crawls under the skin, and energizes everything in its path.

Aah.  People from the west and from the cold countries eagerly anticipate spring and then summer as early as the first blast of snow.  Snow can bring nostalgia in Holiday celebrations but could dampen everyday activities especially if it becomes wet snow, or ice.

Filipinos sometimes fail to appreciate the natural wonders the country has to offer, like sunshine. We take it for granted.  

People who live in the countryside also fail to recognize the extra wonder they have - the clean rivers, the forest, the wildlife.  Oftentimes, they kill the hunt, they forage the trees and  pollute the water.

While here, I may occasionally curse the mosquitoes who feast on my blood, but overall I plan to feast on the many small wonders Philippines has to give me.  

In the mornings, I will bask in the glorious sun, and in the evenings, to look up in the sky and gaze at the stars, and if there's a moon, to continue to dream.

Meanwhile, there are still birds that fly into the garden and remind me of the canaries I used to have - with their lovely songs. 

End of Christmas?

It's quite different this time.  No mother to call and greet Merry Christmas.

At first I could not explain why I am not as excited as the previous Christmases; then it dawned on me - my Mother is not around anymore, and I feel disoriented. 

The feeling, I guess, is shared by my siblings.  This is the first Christmas without our Mother

If she were around, she would have the Christmas lights and lantern and Tree all mesmerizingly dressed up.  The curtains will be fresh, and she would be waiting by the telephone to receive overseas calls from her three children who reside outside the Philippines.  

And for her children who are in the country, she would be sharing with them food and gifts during the family's traditional New Year's Day celebration.

It's not the end of Christmas for me now that my Mom is no longer around. But at the rate that Christmas has been diluted by so called "political correctness" and cannibalized by commercialism, I am afraid that with each passing year, my Christmas will lose its luster and joy, bit by bit.  

The Christmas decors that line up Ayala Avenue, Bagong Ilog at Pasig and the entire breadth of the Meralco complex are not enough to perk up the spirit I used to feel when I was a child.  

It's here now, there tomorrow.  It's that special niche where the heart feels most at peace.  It could be anywhere.

Have a blessed Christmas!

Winding.

Winding. The word means several things:  to traverse on a curving course; to turn the course of, especially to lead a person as one wishes; or to turn end for end, among other meanings.

As a a period or a year nears its ends, or a projects comes to its completion, we usually say, we are winding down our work. Financial books are closed, inventories are taken, and final reports are written.

On my way to Manila, my seatmate was a young man from Argentina who was studying Japanese in Tokyo. Our conversation centered on Manny Pacquiao who I guess has drawn countless fans from across the globe.  This young Argentinian was winding his studies in Tokyo.

In the plane from Tokyo were Filipinos coming home for the holidays - contract workers who were probably winding their contracts and then starting fresh ones or those on their yearly vacations.

In personal relationships, we take stock of what's happening whether it's bad or good, and then we feel, analyze and take action - we either stick it out, revive it, or put an end to it or wind it up.

The year 2009 is finally winding down.  And just like many endings, people are oftentimes forced to make earthshaking finales, as if that will make things better.  Just look at all those major family purchases which sometimes burn family budgets, or the un-affordable gifts people buy in order to make the year-end memorable, or the many divorces and split-ups which happen just before the big Holidays, and on a happy note, the weddings which take place just before the new year unfolds.

People are simply drawn into this euphoria of making a beautiful end or a beautiful start.

I'd take the cab.

The train leaves the station 

And the familiar whistle stop bellows somewhere,

"Your stop, Sir," the porter reminds you,

And you step out staggering in the cold morning December of your life.

You look back as the train pulls away

Now your heart starts to pound,

Gets heavier as the tail of the Metro curves around

And you see no more,

Oh, just the light as it blinks for the next stop.

Damn heart,

So fickle, so true, so warm, so lazy,

Were there yesterdays just one like yesterday

When you could have tended to the bleeding

With a gauze and scissor and some stitches here and there?

Yet, you chose to turn on the TV and waited for the aspirin

To soothe, to smoothen the platelets,

Then you'd go back to being you and you being you

As more ibuprofen and acetaminophen blur the line between pain and no pain,

Where did your life simply go?

Damn soul,

You're still now, how about tomorrow?

When scenes play out, die out,

You can never say go because there's no way to go

But wait for the train to show up

At the appointed hour.

No sir,  I'd skip the train,

And wait for the cab as it speeds down the highway,

Or take a bus, or even the plane,

Or stay at home on a busy day,

And I'd say when I'd taste the snow, 

Or inhale the carbon from the flying jeep off a Manila road.

Changes.

No, not yet time to spell out my New Year's resolutions. The changes I mean are the ones happening in the body as one gets, well...older.

Like I've never been this sick in my whole life. I just caught the flu bug! Thank God, it is the common flu bug. For a while I self medicated on nuprofens and then acetaminophen, but as the fever raged on, I consulted a walk-in clinic doctor, who prescribed antibiotics.

But the ague's went on - chill, fever, muscle weakness, etc - that I ran to the emergency one evening, and with x-ray done, the good lady doctor smiled at me and proclaimed, "it's just the ordinary bug, so we just have to let the virus take its ordinary course." Was I relieved!

So, finally today after almost 10 days, I am beginning to walk steadily, and tasting food the way they should taste. But it was ten long, boring, fearful days. I imagined so many stories in my mind and have gone to so many places in my sleep, and ended up being just me and being just in my room in Toronto.

I guess my body just succumbed to the many pressures I've just went through in the last few months.

Well, there's still time to prepare for the Holiday Season..... Ho, ho, ho.

Ham, Hot Cocoa and Halayang Ube

Christmas is so in the air that I could not help thinking and smelling in the subconscious the goodies I used to enjoy as a kid.

My mind is skipping Christmas dinner altogether because it consisted of ala-fiesta food savoured and attacked at my grandparents house in Nueva Ecija.

I'm thinking about New Year's Eve Media Noche as I sip hot Tim Horton's chocolate amidst a minus two degree celsius Saturday morning in Toronto.

I've never been a cocoa guy; I've always been a coffee guy. But come New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, I've always craved for a steaming cup of cocoa.

It's been the tradition in our family to have tsokolate on New Year's Day. My mother and aunt always bought the cacao (hard Spanish chocolate) and on Media Noche, they used a special batidor to stir the pot or carafe to produce a cup of bubbly tsokolate. Of course they'd already added ground peanuts on the pot, so we would be drinking tsokolate mixed with peanuts. Aaah.

Of course, our Media Noche, was not complete without the jamon. As far as I can remember, my father used to receive holiday gifts from his clients, and year in and year out, he got at least two pata ng jamon ( ham legs). As these were raw and wrapped, they'd be hanging by the kitchen wall until New Year's Eve when our Ate donned her chef hat and cooked the ham. She boiled the ham in a tall biscuit tin where she'd put her secret mix. I suspect it consisted of beer, Seven Up, pineapple juice added with chunks, and brown sugar.

Once the ham was cooked, it looked like the Excellente ham from Echague, complete with the sugary, salty syrup. Yummy. Sometimes, we had the ham for breakfast up until February.

While living with my aunt and uncle, my sister Jo and I were Uncle's little Santa's help. My Uncle was the official cook in the house and days before New Year, he'd devote an entire day preparing halayang ube, and we would help him carve designs out of the purple ube.

As my uncle was an all around guy- sastre, karpintero, artiste, cook, etc - he'd have halayang ube in various designs served in colorful platters. He'd give me and my sister tubed "cut rite" with holes at the bottom, and we would put the trimmings on his designs. So the halayang ube would come out like cakes with frosting.

In my parents' house it was the eldest sister who was the official halayang ube preparer. Years later when she migrated to the U.S. and had kids, she still made halayang ube the centerpiece of her many special dinners. Her kids called it purple cake.

Not humane, after all.

The Toronto Humane Society has been in the front pages lately for allegations of not so humane treatment of the animals under its care. Too bad. But until proven, the THS officers who'd been charged, must be viewed as not guilty.

Which reminds me of my dog, Shadow. He's been under the care of my sister and brother in-law since late August.

I was meaning to fetch him but because of new plans, I might not be able to bring him home soon. So, Shadow won't be home for Christmas. But I'm sure Shadow's been receiving TLC from my sis and bro in-law.

It looks easy on paper or on the screen to transport an animal from one country to another. But I think the difficulty may lie in the country of destination (e.g. Philippines).

I checked the requirements for Air Canada and Northwest, and all they're asking for is the proper kennel. For animals up to 70 lbs, cabin transport is allowed, meaning your pet can travel with you in the same cabin as yours. For pets weighing more than 70 lbs, they would be placed in the baggage compartment.

Air Canada recommends purchasing a kennel from them. And they recommend not feeding the pet four hours before the flight and giving water up until the check in time. Water container must stay inside the kennel and the kennel should remain unlocked.

Date restrictions are also in force. Usually, transporting pets are restricted during the winter months.

Cost for transporting the pet? If in the cabin, about $100 CAD. If in the baggage compartment, about $270 CAD.

What to do with Shadow? I don't want to bring him to the Humane Society. And I don't want him adopted by just anyone.

I have to have a plan in place for Shadow, come spring time.

Compressing One's Life.

LEFT, Mini- Christmas lanterns (parols ) or compressed
"parols."


When we download any software, driver, game, etc from the Internet, oftentimes, they would be compressed, then we have to unzip or decompress them before they can be installed.

How about compressing years of your life into just about two or three weeks and then decompressing them again? Sounds complicated and weird and unrealistic and un-doable. It sounds so sci-fi.

People go through life as either married, not married but in a long term committed relationship, single but in a relationship or single and celibate at the same time. Years of living would have produced tons of memories stored in the brain.

What if you suddenly find yourself changing places or situation in life? How would you compress your memories or your life to fit them into a new status. From being married to being divorced, from being single to being married, from being single but in a relationship to being just single, from being single and celibate to being single and sexually active.

Or do you really have to compress these memories and life experiences and unfold or unzip them once you've settled into the new life?

Getting divorced or separated is a most difficult time so is being dumped by a boyfriend or girlfriend, or being sexually active for the first time or getting involved with a person who is not free to marry anymore. But these things happen all the time to a lot of people.

And that's the time when people compress the memories (the good and the bad) so that s/he can move on from the difficulty, from the pain, from the angst, from the anger, from the disillusionment.

People compress the years of engagement/relationship into segmented memories, preferably putting on top the most happy times or for some, getting the most bitter ones up in the memory-level, to make the parting or adjustment more manageable. It really depends on the personality of the individual.

Once everything has healed or as the more popular buzzword says, moved on, then the individual can begin to unzip and decompress the memories which have been filed away or stored in the innermost memory bank of the brain. Then, the individual can look back at the experience with detachment or lesser or no pain.

It's Officially Holiday Season Up North.

After the American Thanksgiving and the Macy's Parade last Thursday, Nov. 26th, the Holiday season officially started in the U.S.

In Toronto, Easy Rock, 97.3 on the radio dial, started playing Christmas songs, too. So now, I can listen 24/7 to Christmas carols. Awesome!

But if you're a Filipino planning to come home to the Philippines for the Holidays and haven't reserved a ticket yet, you're in tough luck.

It seems that there are no more available seats left and I'm talking almost all of the airline companies, NWA, Korean, Air Canada, Cathay, etc. First class tickets, maybe.

One agent I talked to immediately asked, "are you willing to travel on Christmas Day itself ? "

Well, I remember one time when I booked late, and actually travelled on the morning of December 25. There was a big group of Filipinos on that trip so we all celebrated Christmas Day up up in the sky.

But the frustrating part was that the plane landed in Cebu and we had to board a local flight to Manila.

We touched down at the Domestic airport and the party who was picking us up was waiting at the International. I remember taking a taxi and two Filipinas tagged along with me so we could meet our relatives who were waiting at the other airport, then going back to the Domestic to pick up our luggage.

This happened because the Filipino travel agency where we got the tickets did not advise us that the flight we booked was bound for Cebu. Well, actually they did. At the Pearson International few minutes before boarding time.

That agency closed shop a long time ago. Good.

My Boxing Day.

LEFT - Old Santa, bloated Uncle Gene, and grand niece 'Ona.


It's not even the day after Christmas, the usual Boxing Day, but Canadian retailers are already having Boxing Day sales going on. In the US of A, it's Black Friday today, when prices of commodities have been slashed dramatically.

Boxing Day in Canada literally means that merchandisers are putting into boxes those unsold Christmas items and storing them because Christmas is finished. On Boxing Day, consumers line up before store opening hours to be first to pick up the items on sale.

I'm having my own Boxing Day. I'm putting my things in boxes and luggage. Things and junks accumulated throughout the years. Some stuff are still in their original cartons and unopened.

In the storage room of the condo, there's an unused bike which I purchased years ago, with the original chain lock still in place.

I might give it away to my nephew's kid, Jackson or Leona, when I go to Ohio one of these days. But they have to wait at least ten more years before any of them can use it.

I've Got a Crush on You.

As sung by
Frank Sinatra









Faces I Find Fascinating

L - R
Ava Gardner, Bette Davis,
Joanne Crawford
Kathleen Turner, Faye Dunaway,
Gemma Cruz
Jessica Lange, Claire Forlani,
Claudine Barreto,
Marlene Dauden and Leann Rhimes


How glad the many millions of annabelles and lillians
Would be to capture me
But you had such persistence, you wore down my resistance
I fell and it was swell

I'm your big and brave and handsome romeo
How I won you I shall never never know
Its not that you're attractive
But, oh, my heart grew active
When you came into view

I've got a crush on you, sweetie pie
All the day and night-time give me sigh
I never had the least notion that
I could fall with so much emotion

Could you coo, could you care
For a cunning cottage we could share
The world will pardon my mush
Cause I have got a crush on you

Could you coo, could you care
For a cunning cottage
That we could share
The world will pardon my mush
Cause I have got a crush, my baby, on you

I'll climb the mountain. I'll cross the sea.

I'll climb the mountain
I'll cross the sea,
Everything I'll do just to get away
Away, away,
Away.

The rough sail looks exciting
In the 4 degree weather, even.
The snails are buried in the sand
The castles doomed, too.

The horizon in the East is gloomy
There are murders there,
The pols are evil
The poor are poorer.

I'll climb the mountain
I'll cross the sea,
I'll trade my last clothing
I'll burn my last candle.

I'll zoom to the top
and race with the wind
And get to be there
In my dream, somewhere.

Doc's Waiting Room cum Library.

Flu season has started in Ontario, so I got a flu shot this afternoon. And while waiting to be seen by my Doc, I did the usual thing I do in any doctor's waiting room - read.

My family physician is a car enthusiast so naturally his subscription includes car and truck magazines, even subscription from European publishers and of course, Sports Illustrated is a staple in the magazine rack.

After browsing some car and sports magazines, I found one of my favorites, McLean's, a true Canadian publication. I was also looking for a Time or Newsweek, but couldn't find any this time.

The Sports Illustrated I read featured an article about the Florida Gators' quarterback, Tim Tebow, who won the Heisman Trophy in 2007.

In a College Football website, it says, in 2007: "Florida's folk-hero quarterback with the rugged running style and magnetic personality won the Heisman on Saturday night to become the first sophomore or freshman to take college football's most prestigious award."

And this year, Tim Tebow is again on the running for the Heisman.

But what caught my attention in the Tebow article was the young man's other pre-occupation in life: he's a preacher. And a son of a preacher/missionary. His dad and mom used to be missionaries in the Southern Philippines, and before Tim was conceived, his father prayed for a son and promised the Lord that if he gets a son, he'd make him a preacher.

Bob and Pam Tebow, worked for five years as Baptist Church missionaries in South Cotabato, Mindanao some 24 years ago, where Tim was born. The father now runs several orphanages in Southeast Asia including one in the Philippines.

Yes, father Bob got a son, Tim, and he became a quarterback but also a preacher. Off football tracks, Tim goes to prisons where he's allowed to go and preaches his faith. He prefers to talk to the most hardened or those without hope anymore.

According to http://www.gatorzone.com/ regarding Tebow's nomination for this year's William Campbell Trophy, "Off the field, Tebow has spent over 700 hours of community service and appearances this year, including making phone calls to sick children and going on hospital visits to pediatric wings, among other service activities. Honored with UF’s Office of Student Life’s Goodwill Gator Community Service Award in 2008, Tebow cites his priorities in this order: faith, family, academics and then football."

Almost every year, Tim and his family spend vacation time preaching and reaching out to the poor in the Philippines' South. And just recently in one of these spring breaks, Tim assisted in the circumcision of poor Pinoy kids in GenSan.

Now leafing through an old issue of McClean's my eyes riveted to two articles: one, the latest craze among tweenies (pre-teen girls), Bras. What?

And the second one, how one marriage counsellor parlayed her shocking divorce into a career: marriage counselling.

In the divorce article, it said that " those husbands who suddenly break to their wives the news that they want a divorce, almost the majority do so in the months between November through January." It further says, it is so, because the husbands could no longer dare show a happy face during the Holidays.

So, next time you book an appointment to see a doctor, make sure you have less or more time to be in the waiting room. It's either you've got to finish reading what you started or don't read at all.

Sweetheart Movies.

I have the luxury of time so I have purposely not shaken off my jet lag. I am not back into the normal flow of things, yet. I am absolutely off. I have not watched any TV shows until yesterday evening when I flipped channels and stopped at Channel 11 (CHCH) where they've got movies.

So last night I watched "Failure to Launch" which I've seen before, and tonight after a pizza dinner by myself, "A Cinderella Story" starring Hillary Duff.

What am I doing watching these "for sweetheart movies, " meaning you've got to have a date to be seeing these stuff?

Well, I want light-hearted movies, at this time, that's why. I want to laugh and be entertained. I want to kick off some blues.

I bought 6 DVDs of new, yes, new movies at the St. Francis Square across MegaMall, but I haven't unloaded my second luggage so they're still buried among clothes.

Song. Song.

How many songs could a person sing in three hours of karaoke-ing? Not enough, I found out.

In a recent outing at the Red Box, our group (sisters, bro in law, niece and some) didn't really get the feel of the night and our throats didn't even itch, as we downed pop, beers and alternated with the microphone.

The Pinoys' love and craziness over karaoke haven't abated. I'm sure every average Joe and Jane (Juan and Juanita) has a karaoke in the house. Those without one, I guess, belong to a minority of Pinoys still in denial.

A bro in law who sits as an RTC judge has perfected his pitch and choice of songs, and anytime he gets hold of a microphone could belt out any song from the Magic Sing or Wow song book. My eldest sister, meanwhile can knock them out with her renditions of old love songs by Doris Day, Paul Anka and Anita Bryant and her husband, a medical doctor like her, can match her songs with "A Certain Smile and Release Me."

My other sister, a school officer, is the official "bajo" in the family choir together with me, and another sis can put Patsy Cline to shame with her "Crazy' stuff. My youngest sis and youngest bro, can carry tunes, too, and the other sis, who's been a late bloomer in her karaoke singing, can sing and dance Oh Carol and Diana by Neil Sedaka, or is Paul Anka?

My nieces and nephews, even Mica and my favorite singer who loves I Will Survive and Dancing Queen, have great voices and matching dance moves.

Professionals and non professionals and almost every Pinoy I know share the joys of karaoke singing. But how come there are still certain people who look down on karaoke as too "bakya," or for the "masa lang daw."

Manny Pacquiao, the Great Hope of Boxing, is another karaoke aficionado who's gone professional in singing. But look how some people still ridicule him.

I watched a once well known singer in a concert at the Captain's Bar in Mandarin while I was in Manila, and the singer cracked some jokes, including, how other people and the boxer himself, consider Pacquiao handsome. It's all because of the money he's got, the once well known singer said. No one in the audience laughed.

I remember the years 2000 - 2002 when I lived in a farm in Nueva Ecija and how we would have lunches at the nearby Fort Magsaysay. There would always be soldiers and other military people crammed around the videoke screaming their lungs out. And there would be late evening trips back to Manila and dinners at roadside cafes where ordinary folks enjoyed food and drinks and videoke singing.

Toronto has dozens of Filipino restaurants and bars with karaoke nights, and thousands of mainstream Canadian restaurants and bars with the same attraction. Five or seven years ago, karaoke was mostly the Filipino and Asian's delight.

It took the show American Idol to get bathroom singing out of the shower and into the open - into a bar or the party.

Pass the mike, please.

Finished.

While in the Philippines, I finished reading two classics and 6 contemporary English books, the latter books I purchased at the National Bookstore.

As to the classics, there was the Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and The Divine Comedy (Volume I - Inferno) by Dante as translated by Mark Musa. I enjoyed Pride and Prejudice but it took a long while to finish Divine Comedy.

As regards the others, they were from the Twisted series of books by Zafra which were all light reading, and yes, I loved all of them.

While waiting to board the plane going back to Toronto, I was glued to the Angels and Demons by Dan Brown but when I got inside the plane, sleeping was more inviting than reading.

So, since arriving home, I haven't opened the Dan Brown book. Chores such as laundry and yes, sleeping have taken priority.

I marvelled at how much junk I've accumulated, including receipts tucked inside my wallet. There was even a stub from the Ayala Museum where I went to see the Ring of Fire Exhibit. And a parking receipt from Shagri la where I went to watch two foreign films, Caravaggio and the Orient Express.

Unpacking was/is a nightmare, especially that of unloading dirty clothes. I was lucky I had regular laundry done in Manila so I have just few soiled clothes.

A friend emailed a day ago and asked "where are you?" I feel I just got resurrected; it's as if I was gone forever and I just woke up and was dreaming all along.

Finito. I shall open a new chapter in the Angels and Demons.

Autumn Works.

I'll be tumbling down and forth
In the piled leaves of autumn,
In the backyard lot

At night,

Like 'am a child of five.

I'll be howling at the dogs
And squinting at the cats
Be chasing the squirrels
And swearin' at the park.

I'm descending into childhood
In this quick, quick, quick step
My breath out of sync

My giggles couldn't stop.

I'm stupidly happy
I'm crazily mad
I've no explaining to do
I'm just out of my mind.

Blame it on the autumn

This cascading into bottom

Blame it on somethin'

Maybe the wild rum or beer

I'm just crazily a- glee

No matter what matters now

I'm ready to be

No matter what it'll be.

Ready and Able.

How long has it been since I last cuddled my dog, Shadow (aka Spike)? Almost three months ago.

My sis from Ohio, Shadow's original Mom and owner, called to say 'Hi," and to ask when I will pick up the mini-pin. Actually, my bro-in-law to whom I've given temporary custody, was the one eagerly asking.

Apparently, Shadow, has been messing up their house, peeing where he shouldn't pee. But sis was quick to add that it is bro-in-law who's been spoiling Shadow.

So by American Thanksgiving, I'd be picking up my charge. I'm ready and able. It will be back to good 'ol days for me and for Shadow. Back to early morning and late afternoon walks.

But now that autumn is so upon us here in TO, I'm beginning to worry about the cooool mornings and evenings. Some days, Shadow would have to make do (pee and poo) in the balcony. Unless I can toilet train him.

Yet in the past, I've toilet trained him already. I placed his daytime "sleeping quarters" by the foot of the TV set (it was a dog sleeping basket with a huge blanket) and a big rug underneath it. So if it was emergency, Shadow peed on the rug and at the corner of the basket. If his emergency occurred an hour or so before morning walking time, he'd pee in the balcony, at the foot of the grocery cart where a thick pile of newspaper had been piled up.

What I cannot tame is Shadow's bravado. He's twenty something by dog age, so he's raring to experiment and ready to love and be loved. And sorry, I don't want him "fixed."

Whirlwind.

When it comes, not even Batman nor Superman could prevent it.

Like the recent Typhoon Ondoy, it could bring devastation or miraculous moments.

A Time for Us.

When I got news that my Mother died, it was almost 12:32 p.m. and I just finished a business meeting. It was a matter-of-fact text from a brother in law. He sent it to a niece, too. There was no pre-warning, no hello to prepare the recipient for the worst news. My younger sister phoned me a little later with a prepared pre-news spiel but I told her I got the news already.

Life is like that a lot of times. It does not prepare you for the good or bad times. It just happens.

Death, divorce, disaster, disappearance. Or maybe on the good side, lotto winning, love requited, loss reversed. These things didn't happen to me personally; some did. These are just examples of how people can be jolted out, happily or sadly.

After recent happenings in my life and around me, I am now more convinced than ever, a solid believer in "happenstance, serendipity and randomness."

There's a time for grieving and a time for rejoicing. There's a time for questioning and a time for reckoning. There's a time for anger and a time for healing. There's a time for pride and a time for humility. There's a time for love and a time for parting. There's a time for silence and a time for communication. There's a time for a tear and a time for a smile. There's always a time for love.

There's a time for us.

You're Being Processed.

LEFT - Where are the good times? Tommy Boy (+) and J-Lo were getting used to each other and then..


I got to Detroit's Wayne Airport at around 12:08 pm (Nov 16th). But my clock was still set to Narita time zone so I was a bit confused and thought I'd be late for my connecting flight to Toronto which was supposed to board at 1:20 pm.

I kept glancing at my watch while in the long queue of people being processed at the Port of Entry in Detroit. My watch read 2:20 pm. Then I asked the guy infront of me if he's got the local time. Yes he did. It was quarter to 1:00 pm.

So I had 35 minutes to clear Immigration and to run to Gate 26 for my connecting flight.

Arriving at a Port Of Entry in any place in the globe gives me an eerie feeling. I don't know why or what it is, but I have this weird feeling that I'm in a "temporary holding zone" where there's no specific time , it's neither day or night - just a zombie-like state where one is stamped on the head and declared fit and told to " go and live and forget your own body mass and time memories you've just been through. " It's like being back from the future.

It was good Canadians didn't have to be fingerprinted nor photographed, so it took all 2 minutes for me to clear Immigration. But I had to retrieve my luggage and re-check them and to be retrieved again at the Pearson International in Toronto.

I'm finally home.

I immediately checked the balcony and found J-Lo (aka Ugly Betty, the budgie) alone at the floor of the cage. Now that Tommy Boy is gone, J-Lo is back to being lonely.

Oh, What a Feeling!

My trip to Manila has come to its end.  Like Hilary Clinton, I'm leaving Manila.  Tomorrow, Monday, the 16th, I'm flying home to Toronto.  It is a "mind boggling" visit.  

First, it is the longest vacation I've ever taken since I left the homeland, except for the two-year stay in 2000-2002.  Two months and twelve days to be exact. 

Second, the circumstances of the visit are different.  It is not R & R.  It is a very personal journey.  I came to visit a mother who was seriously ill and who died three days before I was supposed to leave.

And on a higher and first-order level, I was seeking to unite with the Moon and the stars.

Third, Nature intervened.  Typhoon "Ondoy" swooped into Manila.  The Planets and the moon got disturbed and perturbed and left me wondering.  Maybe forever. 

The days became hazied.  I could not look ahead.  Like a conked-out car, my headlights got smashed, my rearview mirror fell off, my brakes faltered, my engine stalled. 

I got lost.  And I didn't even know where I took the wrong turn. My map and my itinerary were blown off...so suddenly. 

It is the eve of my departure.  Three days before my departure, I busily went out with various relatives.

Went to concert at the Captain's Bar in Mandarin to catch RJ Jacinto and Hadji Alejandro last Nov. 12, then on the 13th, nephew Alan invited me for dinner and night at the Metro Bar, and last night my three sisters and families checked out Conway at the Shangri La where the band Rock Revival provided good music.

Today was spent doing last minute packing; I didn't watch the Pacquiao and Cotto fight.

I'm sure I'd fall asleep the minute the plane takes off from the NAIA tomorrow morning.  I hope the weather would be beautiful for the take off.

Goodbye to all and you, have a pleasant dream.  

Not so current events.

During and post- interment family "unwinding."


Wonder of wonders. Whenever I'm in Manila, I suddenly lose interest in international politics.  Like now, Hilary Clinton is visiting Manila, and I just nod in remembrance that I have admired this Lady for a long time. I was rooting for her bid for the US Presidency during the last primary. 

Whatever happens to me in Manila that I lose touch with the outside world is explainable. Overload.

Too many relatives and loved ones who give attention to me and I give attention to.  Much food to ingest.

Too mess a traffic that eats time and robs you of moment to watch newscasts.  Too many Tagalog soaps that tie up the TV and prevent you from switching to CNN or BBC or lest you get choked by the other occupants of the house; or you yourself glance at "Sandino" from time to time. 

Then there's the useless but funny chit chat with siblings reminishing about childhood follies and life in the ancient times.  

And of course, you suddenly become enamored reading and watching about Erap, Gibo, Ate Glo, Chiz, Korina and Mar and Mr. Noynoy.  The sudden nationalismo makes you want to adopt dual citizenship. 

Then you hear music blasting out of the radio tuned in to DZRJ - music from the distant past of your teens and early adulthood - from the 70's and 80's: I Will Survive, Buttercup, You Know, Flying High, There's a Kind of Hush, more songs from the Beatles, Dave Clark Five, RJ and so on.  It's Manila memories all over.

So pardon me if I'm not interested in Wolf of CNN and Charles Gibson of ABC nor of Leno and Letterman

and Everybody Loves Raymond replays, and of Easy Rock radio in TO.

My current events now are not so current anymore.

Life Goes On.

A friend commented on how my sadness shows in the recent posts I published.  She was right.

But she was not correct in assuming that my "loneliness" brings me unhappiness. On the contrary, my sadness and want for solitude give me breathing space and ultimately regenerate my systems.

I am not depressed.  I am just naturally more at peace communing with the Self.

But the seeking of inner communion doesn't mean I abhor external communication. It is just a matter of choosing the company I go out with.

I love to dance and listen to good music.  I drink occasionally.  I love good movies.  I read quite a bit now.  And I write for my own pleasure. These are my joys. 

When I was still in school and it was time for exams, I would cram and think of the "after exams" scenario, and I would perk up instantly.

So no matter how difficult and grave the situation is, I always tell myself of the "after."

It lessens the worry; it makes for survival. 

I think that's what hope is all about.  When you can look into the 'morrow, and to the future.

That means you look forward.  And are not afraid to look back.  

Sometimes you look back because there were unfinished business left and opportunities which you somehow missed.  Another time, you tell yourself.  

You move on.  You come back.