Repost: Santa, Shanty, Sancti

The Quiapo church has always fascinated me eversince I have learned about its legends and miracles. The burnt candle smells and assorted herbal medicines flanking around the Black Nazarene’s resting abode added to its mystical folklores.

Prayers offered by devotees and “cross-fingered” wishers mingle with the sirens from the nearby police mobile cars. Typical scenarios, such as the “catch-me-if-you-can” offenders using the intricate maze that the makeshift stores create, as cover to evade the authorities, just to earn extra takings for the coming holidays or to simply feed a starving family living in a shanty somewhere deep within the streets of the nearby avenue.

Indeed, the class-C plastic toys, lights & bells, and the bystanders’ yells all add up a complete package for the busy streets’ version of the coming holidays. Comparatively different from those scenes we see along Bonifacio High Street and Ayala malls, where each on-sale Christmas gift item may still cost more than a poor family’s festive meal, I suppose.

The upper sector bends knees, too, to offer thanksgivings and prayers to their Benefactor, similar to those living on the edge of the bridges. There is no difference at all with what they both mumble to the Divine Provider, except that the former sits comfortably, not worrying what should be next on the dining table. While the latter scratches head because the detergent bar itches the scalp.

I am lucky that I experienced both worlds which opened my eyes to the pangs of reality that life can bring us. I believe that ignorance is never an excuse to exist apathetically about what should be done within our power to help bring glad tidings to the less fortunate.

I usually ride a jeepney just for a short trip so that I can catch a taxi cab that will bring me to my office. Yes, my rhinitis charges me everyday that I really need to take a cab to dodge allergens I might get on my way to work.

But then, one sunny day, I took a side trip to the nearest Jollibee food chain to buy softdrinks and an apple pie. As I rode a “Sarao” jeepney, I noticed a kid looking at my apple pie. His bulging eyes made me realized that he wanted to grab my budgeted apple pie, while his parents are busy blabbing about something I could not even understand. I could tell what he wanted to have at that very moment, just like when all of us crave for something that we even salivate just before it joins our senses. I was damn sure that the boy thought of including it on his wish list inside an old Santa sock.

I remembered how I felt when I saw for the first time that my Santa sock was empty on Christmas Eve when my father left us for good to join his Creator. I thought I had gone bad that was why Santa did not fulfill my wishes. It was one of the saddest moments of my life having no toy at all, only to realize later that it was my papa who acted as my Santa. Now, I still miss my father because without him, Christmas has no meaning at all when I was a kid.

There are so many children out there living in the dark alleys of the streets who also think that they have nothing good to offer the world that is why they do not get their fair share of Santa’s gifts during Christmas. They feel that living in those shanties is their curse for life. “Mahirap lang kami, wala kaming maisabit na medyas.”

But still, optimism finds a way even to those shanties under the bridges when Christmas approaches. “Yehey, Krismas na! mag i-spaghetti kami mamayang gabi!” Such optimism among the poor, despite our selective callousness to their plights, sanctifies the spirit of Christmas. Those carols coming from the “solvent kids” echo into our souls how we should truly relive the real essence of Christmas.

The wish of the boy beside me during that jeepney ride has instantiated the Santa in me to surface out. I winked at the kiddo as I gave my precious apple pie to fulfill his wish. Looking at the kid, it seemed like sparkling stardust showered the jeepney that we were riding that time. I was Santa for him. Yes, I was! “Muntikan ko na ngang sabihin, HO! HO! HO! eh.”

I hoped Santa is still real for him. I remembered how excited I was as a kid whenever Christmas is near. Santa was so magically real but now, it seems the magic of Christmas is no longer true for most people.

Until now, I still envy the kids because they still believe that somewhere out there is a Santa willing to fulfill their wish list.

How about us? We do have our wish list, too. Right? We know for sure that we can all be Santas to fulfill somebody else’s dreams and wishes. It is up for us now how we can be Santas this holiday season. As for me, I gave the kiddo my pie and when I alighted the jeepney, I smiled. It is really nice and rewarding to fulfill somebody else’s dream.

Truly, I can be Santa! We can all be Santas to sanctify the spirit of Christmas by bringing it to the shanties nearby. Hindi ba?

Repost : Big Bang- What are you made of?

When you look for your star in the sky, the forces of nature collide to lead you to where it is and when you found it, it glitters and twinkles like it has never been before. Enchanting. Dazzling. But then like all the galactic bodies in the universe, it bursts and shatters leaving you grappling in the dark.

When that day comes, one must be ready for it. In my case, I have already mastered that art of seeing through darkness-Wisdom which I found effective and (indeed!) reliable.

Our stars really come and go but that depends on what star we have. There are stars that could not last and are quick to decimate. Unreliable. Weak. This kind of star doesn’t deserve to be remembered nor cherished. Attention-seeker, as I would put it! It wows you at first but it crashes quickly. Poor one. However, there are stars that could last a lifetime and could beam forever.

I hope my star is of this caliber and is of my kind.

I am back!

Yes, you read it right. I am back from the woods.

I would admit, I literally messed up with this blog for a long time. I abandoned this blog and left it almost dead. Wrecked and whacked.

Literally, I raped and wrangled all its content for no good reason.

Anyways, yes I am back.

The Distance between Grace and the Consul’s Box

I work along Roxas Boulevard in Metro Manila just across the US Embassy where it has been a typical scene to spot people in queue everyday as if there’s a blockbuster inside a movie theater. Oftentimes, I simply disregard them for whatever reasons they have in yearning to go the “Land of the Free and the home of the Brave”.

I have read many times on the papers about the mass migration of our skilled professionals in search for better life in the US including their successes and failures living out there. I have heard about assorted OFW’s problems abroad, racial discrimination our countrymen experience anywhere they go and a lot more which made me nonchalant about all these issues.

Admittedly, I am tired minding their stories because we already have so many problems with our political leaders who are making a fool out of us with all these ZTE broadband deals, Malacaňang cash gifts and North Railway project controversies.

Sadly, it is us- the middle and lower classes that bear all the brunt of all these greedy acts. Crap! My paycheck hurts because instead of having my taxes help those in need, we see these “political junkies” hurling each other about who should get the lion’s share.

What about our fair share? Aba! We pay for those projects which they may have already forgotten I think!

Recently, a 12-year kid committed a suicide because of poverty. A desperation that sipped down to the poor kid’s ailing stomach ended everything to escape pain and suffering. As I watch her sad fate on T.V., I recalled that once you were born a Filipino automatically you would be having financial debts just by being a Filipino!

Whenever I ride a cab chit chatting with the taxi driver, I could hear them complaining about a lot of things. Gas hikes, food prices, etc...

All put together probably are the reasons why many of us are more than eager to move out of this “politician-infested” country aside from the old fact that we still have that mirage of America as our salvation land. “Ang ganda ng Amerika, ano?”

It reminded me again about the everyday scene I see across my office. The US Embassy “movie blockbuster”!

I heard tell-tales about how tough it is to undergo the ordeal on having to face the consuls of the said embassy where everything happens quick inside the white building. Be it a pink slip or a blue slip you get once you are in front of the consul’s box.

Maybe unknown to the US consulates, the trip made by most of those Filipinos just to be subjected to their scrutiny took them a lifelong preparation.

For some, it is their escape-goat from living in shanties all their lives. It is all they got wagered just to take the chance of changing their fate.

It is their measurement of grace.

Aspiration and fear are forever in a tug-of-war way before seeing the consul’s box.

I could still recall that some of my friends did all sorts of ways such as engaging into long distance relationships, waiting for more than a decade for some family petitions and getting medical-related degrees (which they actually detested) just to name a few.

In a nut shell, people can really do all kind of tricks even spending their precious time just to have a chance to see the consul’s box. Maybe the consul’s box is like the No-Limit Texas Hold’Em poker for most of the hopefuls where they bid their lifetime on tenterhooks that the “community cards” might favor them. There is actually no guarantee even if their “pockets cards” might be statistically low-rated or high-rated. It does not matter at all because I have witnessed even the cream of crops of our country gets blue slip for some unknown reasons.

“Bilog ang mundo!” as one of the T.V. commercials would simply put that I strongly disagree with since it gives overtones that luck is all-around the corners among us. Realistically speaking, luck only comes once in a blue moon.

Divine novenas for most serve as everyday mantra that bruises their knees and arms asking for “grasya” instead of “disgrasya” when the paid interview approaches.

Others scoop all their treasures to prepare those nerve-cracking papers and fees as armors to the consul’s unpredictable queries.

However, not everybody gets the grace they aspired for. Truly, the fairy tales we were told to read as kids mostly misled us. Not all stories are happily ended especially stories along the side streets of the US Embassy.

In a snap, yes, in a simple snap, you can gauge the distance between grace and the consul’s box.

693

The most elusive dream magically came true as I whisper the chilling numeric permutation of 6...9...3... Kazaam!

I must admit I am a fan of the “Numbers” TV series at AXN because of the writer’s wit on how he used Math to get the crooks and criminals through complex computations and calculations. But arguably, some of those theories used were somehow fallacies to some extent. Oh well, it was all-about the TV series which is just a product of imagination plus the producer’s aim to be a TV hit commensurate to some green bucks.

I love math. Yes I am. I don’t know. I can spend more than 48 hours just to crack math problems. It is like beating Lex Luthor and Mojo Jojo for that matter. It really blisters my brain when I could not solve a given math problem when I was studying then. I could not sleep because all those solutions and formulas collide in my head. I need to keep going unmindful of time and space. We call it, stinking geeky ways…The nerds and eccentrics pseudo-world engulfed me at times those days. But do I look like one? Hindi halata. Tama ba? Palusot…

How about this permutation I mentioned earlier? This 693! I never knew it coming! This 693 was a real “Eureka’ which I haven’t solved for ages. I have already given up on this one because my brain (heart, actually) bled on it. I considered it mathematically improbable. But then, mysteriously it came! All the answers I needed just came naturally… unknowingly.

It was like “Puff, the magic dragon” came into life. I can now consider this 693 as a “phi”- the proportionality number. Hey, it is not the “phi” mentioned in the Da Vinci Code novel. Of course It is my personal “phi”, that 693, because when I was on it, all things came into being. Aspirations…Dreams…Hopes…Possibilities…and that, cup of mocha! What can you say? Aber??!

Ehem…I can taste it now even by the mere thought of it. Truly, anticipation creates time lines beyond the present.

They say, when you always think about something you wanted in life, it will come true somehow, someway. I believed it especially now that “693” was like a bus to paradise. Time stopped when 693 popped up out of nowhere. You can imagine watching a movie in slow-mo to highlight the event. It was it! 693.

This 693 is the best slow-motion clip I can ever think of. It is more than Hollywood can fathom. Steven Spielberg's E.T or Lucas' Star Wars cannot match this 693 that I am talking about. A 360-degree ride closely tangent to Narnia where reality and fantasy are vaguely defined.

All the questions answered and all the doubts smashed in a split-second.

Everything lingers until now as I can smell the sweetest fragrance of that enchanting 693. Indeed! It was enthralling to some extent that I wanted to shout out loud inside the wheeled-chamber but I preferred not to because I might undo the cosmic miracle. Baka makontra pa eh…hehe

I can still recall those profound gazes that could easily snap one's sanity for its larger than life splendor. It is magic… she is… 693… haunting imagery…fleeting…drifting…now…a reality. :)

Jitters and Merks

What makes them tick?

Someone made a jolting question out of nowhere which penetrated, I suppose, some neurons to process milliseconds of flashbacks scooped from recent experiences.

Nordic is like Baileys interpolating supernovas of mind retrospections making someone oblivious of the here-and-now. Indeed! A blank stare sometimes is a good run off to the plethora of past events that make or break someone's idyllic self-concept. What else is the missing formula? The hidden concoction deep within the carcasses of our painful experiences is yet to be unraveled.

Oh yes! I remember what I said, that “our imperfections become our strengths to see through others’ frailties”. Whether we like it or not, things are sometimes “predetermined” or should I say to be politically correct, “predisposed”. It was like things and events were already made before hand but it all depends on how we react to those conditions. Are we reprobates or what? I guess not… there is heaven at the end of the road. Promise, there is…

Who knows?

Toxic,Goshn, Angels, and a Cup of Mocha

I came home late last night because I needed to pound to the ground some killer deadlines set by no less than myself. Yup! I admit, I am a work horse that continues to make marks and changes to whatever corporate world I am involved in. Probably because it has been my character to make paradigm shifts to those already been established systems that needed some overhauling to improve them.

Being a gypsy of some sort helps me to easily adapt to situations especially when I begin to shake some foundations long been in place. I can't help it, I always take risks but I think that what matters most, taking the risk and stirring new formulas and methods to make a mark in any given time. Win or lose, I really don't care because it doesn't matter to me if I succeed or not as long as I do what I am supposed to do. I would rather regret it in the end if I don't take the risk and it will leave me wondering what-if or what-if-not sort of questions that can make me bothered even.

I believe that is what life is all-about. Following what your heart yearns to do. Simply said, "Go for your dreams because that will make you happier and better." I really stretch myself to determine what I could do or I couldn't do so that in the end I will have no regrets having not tried things in a given circumstance. In the first place, I have nothing to lose at all. I still have myself and the world around where I could shout out loud, " Hey, that's what we are made of!".

How about the other side of happiness? Aha! Pain and sorrow? Hmm... I think these inevitable emotions go well with happiness. It is like a cup of mocha. The bittersweet taste that goes with its aromatic scent in every sip serves its very purpose of pleasure to anyone craving for such.

A fictional story about ANGELS tells that some of them envied us humans because we have feelings and emotions. The feeling of being jolly, happy, sad, dejected and all those sorts of emotions we are given attracted them to go down and dwell with us. Isn't it great?! Even angels wanted to be like us! However fictional this story maybe, it serves its purpose well. Don't you think? But most of us feel that the world has ended whenever those unwanted emotions engulfs us. The trick is, savor all kinds of emotions! Nothing is really bad. Anyway, all will just simply pass like a wind.

A dab of pain in life matters too. It keeps us way down our toes and sanity which somehow gets snapped by overwhelming happiness at times. I remember Carlos Goshn as the top exec of 2 giant auto corporations - Nissan and Renault. How can this guy manage 30,000 miles apart corporations? He travels most of his life. Jet setting just to attend meetings and conferences. Duh! That's a sad life at times because you spend life in trance. I wonder how he gets to deal with the true wonders of life. Even Goshn gets some knockout punches at times, I mean most of the time! With all the failed collaboration and merger(?) with General Motors recently was like getting an upper cut from some Mexican pug experts. But one thing I look up to this guy- Goshn is his ability to make himself composed and to easily resolve from such losses.

I got a friend who likes traveling too to wayward sad thoughts of life. I believe that's how my friend's way of bouncing back from hurtful past which is I think is still minty fresh until now. Hmm.. Maybe just maybe that how Goshn make himself whole again too.

Admittedly, I feel like a newbie youngster needing some shots of Tequila just to meet this long lost friend of mine. I know it is really funny because I have built myself to be confident to anybody I face with in any given condition. But only this one that is shrinking me to the fullest. Hmm.. My gut tells me, What the heck! It has been long - almost 2 decades! You can do it, Gary as I said to myself. Whew! I am losing my center of balance on this one. hehehe. I offered a cup of mocha just to have time with this friend of mind but I am getting some jitters right now even with the thought of it. So what the fuzz this meeting is all-about? Oh well, it is a deeply and hardly imaginable secret I never shared to anyone. I never admitted it even to myself because things need to move on. It is really unfair on my friend's part because all these time I was just a glitch instance from childhood while I am here being nostalgic about it. I really couldn't admit to myself that being a teener before with my friend made an impact in my life even up to these days. I made good in my life. I made new friends. I became what I wanted to be in life. But there is one thing but never goes out of my system. Green Bay's Favre call it, A monkey on his back! I call it, one that never goes out. Perpetual presence? A datum beyond normalcy? A sector built-in in my processor? Enigmatically constant in my life cycle? I don't know. :)

Am I just being "toxic"? Or Am I Goshn-stupefied? Or Is it just the cup of mocha with all the thoughts that goes with it?

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Sniffed

My happiness is me, not you.
Not only because you may be temporary.
But also because you want me to be what I am not.

I cannot be happy when I change
Merely to satisfy your selfishness.
Nor can I feel content when you criticise me for not thinking your thoughts,
Or seeing like you do.
You call me a rebel.
And yet each time I have rejected your beliefs
You have rebelled against mine.

I do not try to mold your mind.
I know you are trying hard enough to be just you.
And I cannot allow you to tell me what to be-
for I am concentrating on being me.

You said that I was transparent
And easily forgotten.
But why did you try to use my lifetime,
To prove to yourself who you are?