Crazy Stupid

It's 11:40 pm. I have a ton of work stuff to finish and I'm suddenly craving for a cig. In times like this, I find that making a list - any kind of list - helps settle me down.

One of my favorite excuses is "..because I can". Because I can, I've done some crazy stupid stuff over the years.

Here are some that I can remember

In the 80s. I grew a moustache, shaved half of it and kept it like that for most of a work-week. I remember that it was suppposed to be an act of protest about something but, for the life of me, I cant remember anymore whatever it was I was protesting. I was working in a bank at that time. I didn't stay long.

I've shared a joint twice in my entire life. The first time was my first week in college and I was diagnosed with hepatits the next day. The second time was years after in my friend's house and we all had a laughing trip. I've never really had the urge to try it again although one time in Sagada my friends and I were waiting to be offered (cause that's whats supposed to happen in Sagada) but that didnt happen. I wanted to try Ecstasy when I was in my 30's but never did.

In one of my first trips abroad, I had the bright idea of bringing home free toiletries from my hotel as pasalubong. Not content with what I collected from my room, I was caught by the chambermaid taking stuff from her cart (which was outside the door of a room that wasn't mine). In my embarassment, I put them all back and skulked away.

In the 90's, I invented this imaginary friend (Mr. Ho) with whom I would have loud, engaged conversations. In public. In front of strangers. All the time. And then it wasn't funny anymore, just strange.

A friend and I accepted a dare from other friends to have ourselves strapped to a slingtshot-like contraption that flung us hundreds of feet away from the ground. It felt like my balls were in my mouth and a scream was stuck in my throat.

On another dare, I walked around the streets of Tokyo like a duck for the better part of one afternoon.

One New Year's eve, I was so drunk I have pictures of myself lying along Ayala Avenue that I dont remember having been taken.

A few years ago, in a club in London, I started screaming Tagalog curses while in the middle of the dance floor because it seemed like a fun thing to do at that time. I was a little (alright, very) drunk but sensible enough to stop when a friend reminded me that a lot of Tagalog cuss words have Spanish or Latin origins (i.e. Puta......a) :-) might be understood by the stoned Europeans around us.

Hmm...practice kissing (with tounge of course) and howling at the full moon :-) , hurling wine glasses at the Roxas Boulevard breakwater shouting Mazel Tov in what I thought to be a French Jewsih accent (long story, I also went through a Black Russian phase, longer story)

This is most likely not a complete list, let me know of anything else that should be in it (at the risk of embarassing yourself for having been part of whatever stunt you remember me doing, haha)

I really have to go back to work now. I still want a cig.

I Survived Again !(or When Will I Evern Learn?)

I had a heart attack on October 9, 2004 at 10:00 in the morning.

Having come home at 2 am from a night-out with friends, I woke up late for an early-morning appointment. I had to to meet my friend, an architect, with whom I was going to Sta. Rosa Laguna . We were going to check on the progress of a house I was having constructed.

A few minutes after getting into my friend's car (she had offered to drive), I felt back pains and a heavy sensation in the center my chest area. These were familiar discomforts as I had been experiencing the same pains intermittently over the past few weeks.

As in the past, I expected the pain to subside gradually. It did not.

I did not want to worry my friend needlessly so I tried to stay calm and take several deep breaths. When the pain remained, I realized that something was very wrong. It was at this point that I asked my friend to take me to the hospital.

While the pain was constant, it was not excruciating. And while my friend was obviously concerned about me, we both remained relatively calm and even managed to exchange a few jokes along the way. I remember thinking to myself how inconvenient this all was for me and how screwed up my schedule was going to be because of the unexpected development. More so when we took a couple of wrong turns before finding our way back towards the right direction.

Upon finally reaching the hospital, I walked myself to the ER while my friend parked the car. I told the receiving clerk of my chest pains. My blood pressure was taken. After that, everything just sort of happened all at once.

I was hooked up to several machines. Needles were inserted in my arms. Tubes were pushed up my nose. Doctors started milling and moving frantically around me. In my mind, I pictured one of those typical chaotic scenes in the medical emergency shows.

I was told I was having a heart attack and that there was a small window of time to minimize any further damage to my system. I could die within the next few minutes.

I don't remember panicking. If anything, I went into full control mode. I started organizing things in my head. As the doctors fought to save my life, I was making a list of people to call and arrangements to make.

I had to be sure that everything was going to be in order even if that was the last thing I did. At one point, I even asked my friend to take my picture with my mobile phone - me lying on a gurney smiling and waving at the camera as everything was going crazy around me. I was not going to let anyone know that I was scared. That would have been unsightly and uncool.

After my vital signs had stabilized, I was brought to the ICU for closer monitoring as I remained in critical condition.

While in the ICU, one of my visitors -a friend from work - gave me a daily devotional. "Grace for the Moment" by Max Lucado. I had received a copy of the same book about two years ago which I had hardly read.

This new copy remained unread in the hospital. A couple of days after, while waiting for the results of yet another medical test, I took the book and just listlessly opened it to the reading for October 9, the day of my attack.

The reading's heading was "A Home for your Heart". It began with Psalm 91.1, "Those who go to God Most High for Safety will be protected by the Almighty".

While those words were inspiring, the accompanying thoughts hit me like a ton of bricks. I am going to have to quote in full, as follows: " Chances are you've given little thought to housing your soul. We create elaborate houses for our bodies but our souls are relegated to a hillside shanty where the night winds chill us ad the rain soaks us".

I had my heart attack on the way to check on the progress of my house construction. God was trying to tell me something! But, na-uh, I wasn't going to be convinced that easily. Not me.

I could say that these were just weird coincidences.

It was a coincidence that I had received two copies of the same book.It was a coincidence that the reading fell on October 9, the day of my attack.

And then again, maybe not.

For several months, maybe years, I have been occupied - obsessed even - with the idea of building this house according to my specifications . I could even go as far as saying I was obssessed with living my life according to some Grand Plan.

But, in order for me to do this, I felt I had to be on top of my game all the time. I was spending almost all of my time at work. I hardly had time for family and friends. I had to have people's admiration and recognition.

So much so that, even at my most vulnerable moment, in the face of death, I was still trying to be in control. I was making calls while in the ER to make arrangements and giving instructions! I was discussing with the doctors about what was to be done with me and how I should be treated! I even had my picture taken!!!

What kind of person has his picture taken while having a heart attack?

To my shame, I don't think I prayed or asked for God's help until after there were no more calls to make or doctors to speak to.

You would think I should have learned my lesson already. I had a near-fatal car accident a few years back when I missed a sharp turn on an incline. My car summersaulted at least twice before landing upside-down at a 45 degree angle to the ground just a few feet away from a deep ravine. I was not wearing a seatbelt. I crawled out of the car without a bruise. People who saw the wreck would ask how many people had died. They would then say what a coincidence it was that, next to my wrecked car, there was a huge sign on which were printed the words "JESUS SAVES"

There were just too many coincidences to ignore.

I had to consider the possibility that God has been trying to send me a message through all these years. A message that I had been ignoring . He had had to resort to pretty drastic measures to call my attention.

After my heart attack, I opted to invest in the healing of my heart, I realized that I was, in fact, giving myself a chance to have a more meaningful life. But, first - God wanted me to start with a clean slate. He had to teach me to let go of my attachments. I realized that the house was just a representation of all the things that I had grown attached to - my pride, my worldly possessions, my ambition, my desire for recognition. I suppose in a way, God wanted me to realize how temporary these are and how they could just be taken away in one instant. He also had to teach me to be humble. While in the hospital, I was stripped bare - literally and figuratively - of my clothes and finery. I had to be totally dependent on others even for my toilet needs. For someone who is as vain and proud as I am, that was a difficult lesson to learn.

These are lessons that I would have resisted under different conditions. So, it is true - God had to take pretty drastic measures to make sure He had my attention!

I suspect He wanted me to ask myself these questions- "Why me?", "What is it that You want me to do?", "What is this all leading up to?" "What reason is there that I'm still alive?". Lying on the hospital pondering on these thoughts, I guess I half expected the answers to come to me in the form of an angel coming down from the ceiling.

Hmm...Guess again.

True to form, God hasn't me any quick answers. I don't think that is His style. Even now, several years after, I'm still trying to figure things out. Through all this, I feel an Invisible Hand intervening by presenting the opportunities to let go of my attachments and be clear on my priorities. I've made several interesting choices since then in my search for answers.

I don't think I'm any holier or more profound that I was before my heart attack. But I have noticed a few changes. I have a greater sensitivity to the things around me. I think maybe I'm just a little bit kinder , a little bit more gentle, maybe even a little bit more patient and forgiving..
Partly, I suppose this comes from a keen awareness of how temporary life is, that all this could end at the snap of a finger. But, mostly, I believe that its part of God's process.

I know I also have to learn the virtues of patience and obedience. If I had my way, I would want to fast-forward and get to the stage where I'm like super-wise and enjoying my rewards from Him for going through my experience. But God cannot be rushed. His work with me is not done yet. His lessons continue.

As 2010 comes to a close, I find myself asking the same questions all over again. What positive changes have I made in the last year? How can I make my life more meaningful in 2011?

I am thinking that I would like to simplify my life by just focusing on the essentials and letting go of everything else. I think it is fitting that I have decided to sell the house that I was having constructed when I had my heart attack. In my mind, I am going through a list of other things I should just let go of

What I do know is that the things that were so important to me before don't seem to matter as much anymore. I don't think that means I'm any less dedicated to doing my job, for example. I still take satisfaction is being able to do it well. It's just that I have a better understanding of what I can and cannot do and I accept that my work is not the be-all and end-all of everything.
I am grateful that I still feel a sense of hope and anticipation for what is going to come next. God is teaching me all these lessons to build a home for my heart and prepare me for even greater things. Not for my glory. But for His.

Merry Christmas, my family and friends. And may God continue to bless and guide us in the year ahead.

DISTANT DRUMS

As of today, I have 16 days left in Zambia. My remaining time will be spent completing a few more projects and saying goodbye to the friends I have made

The experience has been everything that I expected. It has been difficult and challenging. Oftentimes, I felt isolated and lonely.Conversely, it has also been everything I did not expect. I made a lot of new friends that I would not have been able to meet elsewhere. I learned new things, most especially about what I can do without. I look at my end-of-placement review document and, on paper at least, it seems I have done a lot in the past five and a half months. At the same time, I feel like I have not done much at all.

In the bus this morning on the way to the big city for a final workshop, I realized that It may take some time before I could process my entire experience and understand how exactly it has changed me. Maybe someday, after having made another one of my strange life choices, that is when I will suddenly realize – ah, this is what I learned in Africa, this is how Africa has transformed me.

For now, I have my curios and my experiences to remind me of the time I have spent here. When I am alone, I take out and admire the African souvenirs . I imagine how I would put them up back home or how to explain their provenance to my friends. But, a thing is a thing. I quickly get bored with this activity.

I spend more time running through my memories. I hold each one in my consciousness, considering their value against the bright light of hindsight Which ones are most precious to me? Which ones do I want to take home with me?

I could remember:

• the wretchedness of a diarrhea attack in a place with limited toilet facilities (dear God, the wretchedness).


• the 2 kilometer walk to get to the nearest hospital and the stench of sweat and sickness while waiting in line for my malaria test results (negative, but I was scared)


• the appetizing mixture of mud and manure on which I could just not avoid stepping during rainy days
  


• the frustrations from a work environment with limited resources and a different ethic


• the feeling of helpless anger and the lost of my sense of complacent security after having my things stolen


• the homesickness that was never more acute as during the cold nights when I would be shivering under a thick blanket, listening to the sound of scurrying rats in the ceiling, wishing I were home – warm, clean, stomach full - instead.

I could remember grievances, inconveniences, hardships, annoyances, irritants.

I could. But I don’t think I would want to. Even now, the details of these memories are starting to get fuzzy. How many times did I get diarrhea? Was it in November or December that I had malaria-like symptoms? What exactly were the things that were stolen from me?

I brush these memories aside. I survived. That is what matters. I have suffered thru shit, theft, stomach problems and homesickness before. They are not unique to my African experience.

Fortunately, there are many more memories from which to choose. These are the ones that will always seem like they only happened an hour ago. No matter what the future holds for me, these are the ones that will make me want to come back to this time and place.

I will remember

• the many nights when I drifted off to sleep listening to the sound of distant drums, imagining people dancing around a bonfire, wondering what it was they might be celebrating.


• that hot day, sitting under the shade of a tree when a hungry boy fell asleep in my arms - his rhythmic breathing against my chest, his little fingers clutched tightly around mine


• that first day in Church when, after being introduced as a new member of the parish, a grandfatherly man came up to me, held my hands and said “You are home. We are your family here”


• that late afternoon when, on the way home from work, I chanced upon a group of women standing at the back of a slowly moving truck. They were softly singing . The words were foreign but the melody was so evocative of sadness and longing. I was struck still in the middle of the street, suddenly remembering everything that I too have lost and miss as I watched them disappear into the dusk


• the thrill of riding in a car moving carefully along a deserted road late at night, careful not to hit any elephant that may cross our way, thinking to myself, “Only in Africa”


• the awe inspired by the gentle gaze of a fawn or the perfect beauty of a zebra ambling casually in front of me.


• the joy in the faces of the children who would run up to greet me every single day that I have been in Kalomo. “Muzungu, muzungu”, they would shout, racing against each other in their ragged clothes, to be the first to touch me.


• the simple, inspired meals cooked in small, cramped kitchens and shared happily with friends, all the more special because the occasions were so rare.


• telling a group of Zambians that my hero is the ordinary Filipino in times of crisis; saying how proud I am of my countrymen who, regardless of the odds and the difficulties, still manage to laugh and to share; realizing as I was speaking how much it meant to me to be able to say this.

I will remember faces and names and smiles, each special, each distinct and separate from the other. I will remember every life story that was shared with me,.

I will remember magnificent, MAGNIFICENT, sunsets, and thundering waterfalls.

I will remember a rare rainbow seen in the faint glow of the moonlight; colorful trees that seemed to reach up to the sky; verdant landscapes dotted with settlements of mud-huts;

I will remember. Perhaps, while remembering, I might even hear the sound of distant drums again.

I have come full circle. This is Africa. This is my Africa.

A Canvas of Society

I found this video is difficult to watch. Much in the same manner, I guess, that some realities in our society are sometimes too painful to acknowledge.

Ignoring won't make the realities go away. There are no easy answers about what we can do to change things. But perhaps we can begin by asking ourselves that question.

Please spare 20 minutes to view it. With English subtitles.

Coming Home

On the third week of an extended business trip, I’m homesick. But, I’m not sure if I can really call my pad back in Manila "home". Leaving an empty hotel room to go back to an empty house doesn’t seem like much of a homecoming . The comfort of being surrounded by one’s own familiar things doesnt seem much compared to the comfort and familiarity of returning to your family.

25 Random Things - More Useless Information About Me

1. Apparently, I sleep-eat. It’s either that, or someone regularly breaks into my house in the middle of the night to raid the ref while I’m in bed Sometimes when I wake up in the mornings, there are empty food containers in the sink and crumbs on the floor that I don’t remember putting there.

2. When I was 6 or 7, I tried to kill a stray cat that my father took in. I was never good about sharing attention. One day, when no one was looking, I took the cat by the tail and tried to drown it in a tub of water. The cat didn’t die but it never came back again. And, no, I never physically hurt my sisters.

3. I took in 1 year of Japanese language lessons and was accelerated to the next level on my 4th month. Was the Teacher’s pet. I reached Level 2 of the French Language course at Alliance Francais. Was the teacher’s pet. I enrolled in singing lessons. Was not the Teacher’s pet.

4. I have Amy Winehouse, Ben Folds, Housemartins, RiverMaya and Eraserheads currently on active rotation in my iPod.

5. I’ll be spending 1 week in Egypt next month then 3 weeks in Dubai for work. The countries I want to visit next as a tourist are Italy, France, Spain, and Greece.

6. I watch out for and keep tabs on old people traveling alone in an airplane. I actually walk up the aisles just to see if they’ve eaten or are still alive.

7. My favorite things to do when in a foreign country are walking around , eating street food and watching the locals go about.

8. I enjoy buying/trying out cleaning chemical products. Among my favorite stores in the US are Walgreens, Longs and CVS. I go straight to the household section to check out what’s new.

9. I was in a major car accident 9 years ago. I miscalculated a turn on an incline. My car turned-turtle and ended up upside-down on a 45 degree angle a few feet away from a ravine and a sign that said "Jesus Saves". I had to crawl out of the car. I wasn’t wearing a seat-belt. I had no cuts, bruises or broken bones.

10. My house is cleanest when I can’t sleep. It’s not unusual for me to be scrubbing the bathroom walls or kitchen floor at 2 am.

11. I was the undisputed Oratorical Champion of Region 1 until I retired at 17 when I got 2nd place in a completion.

12. I think I might have made a good actor if I pursued that interest. I had leading roles in a few college theater productions and there were 1 or 2 standing ovations that I can recall. I enjoyed the process of getting into character and being someone else for a time.

13. This may sound contradictory but –. I’m actually very shy and insecure. It’s always a conscious and deliberate struggle to fight my natural inclination to just stand in a corner and wait for someone to approach me.

14. I enjoy buying books (going to a bookstore, leafing through the pages, smelling the books) as much as I enjoy reading them. I do most of my reading in the bathroom where the lighting is best in my house. The ones I’ve read that I like – I like giving away or sharing with friends.

15. I’ve been wanting to do volunteer/NGO work for the longest time. I wonder how my abilities and good intentions will fair under difficult conditions.

16. I think I’m a better writer than I am a speaker. I want to be very exact in what I say and writing gives me the opportunity to think through my thoughts before articulating them. Thinking aloud on the spot makes me stutter.

17. Whenever I have a public speaking engagement, I try to script everything out in advance and I rehearse to sound like it’s all natural. I also prepare an outline and write down my key points to prepare. At some point, I'm able to get my bearings and relax and then I drop the notes and just wing it.

18. I have a hard time remembering figures and formulas but I remember what I ate or what somebody wore or smelled like 20 years ago.

19. I appreciate thank-you notes. More people should do it.

20. I partially paid for my high school tuition fees by selling Readers’ Digest subscriptions. I made extra money in college by selling rice cakes door to door. I had a food catering business with friends. I had a laundry stop in partnership with another friends. The businesses failed. Most of the friendships survived.

21. I’m more generous when I volunteer something rather than when it’s asked for or demanded.

22. I’ve decided to stop buying Christmas gifts in bulk. No more candles, potpourris or key chains from me. I’d rather give you something that I’ll know you like in February or August.

23. I wonder where my best friends from freshman year in college – Eric Mole, Wrani San Juan and Abet Santos – are.

24. I can spend days in my house without going out.

25. It takes me forever to get my ass to the gym (although I live right across mine) but I actually have a good time after I get through the difficult 1st 15 minutes on the treadmill.

My Sixth Sense

I was going through my archives and I realized that, without necessarily meaning to when I started this blog, a recurring topic seems to have emerged.

I write about dead people.

I don’t want to be the person who can’t move on from losing his mother, father and one sister. But, at the same time, I don’t know how I can separate the loss from the person that I am.

Every experience is somehow diminished by the knowledge that it can no longer be shared with them. Christmas and special occasions are specially difficult.

Reliving the memories is often a source of comfort and inspiration. Sometimes the memories cause pain so sharp it's almost physical. But, as in life, you can't take one without the rest.

I know that I can share new experiences with the people who are still present it in my life. And I do. I have a close circle of family and friends who are my life-savers.

I know that I should go ahead and create new memories. And I do try. That's what they would have wanted. More importantly - that's what I want for myself. There is so much left to do and try and taste and see.

But the fact remains – they’re gone. And I miss them. And I don’t want to relegate their presence in my life to the past.

I write about them because this is a way to keep their memories alive. I write about them because I want people to know that they lived, that their existence mattered.

I write about them because their influence in still very much apparent in how I now live my life.

I write about them because I know I write well. And I want to use that gift to honor them.

That's the way it is.

Wyatt Ammon Was Here

You know how it happens sometimes when you’re looking up something on the web – you come across a site that interests you; one link leads to another and, before you know it, you are where you are without necessarily meaning to be there.


I was doing some web research on the Peace Corps (long story, I’ll tell you about it sometime) recently and came across the blog of one volunteer.

His name is Wyatt Ammon

Wyatt arrived in Zambia on September 2005. He left his Project Management job in Washington DC and had committed to two years of social development work for a rural community. When asked as to his reasons for volunteering, he said, "I don't want to work for money or prestige, I want to work for change and satisfaction".

He started the blog to share his experiences with family and friends back home in the US.

On November 12, 2005 , Wyatt posted on his blog. His entry was funny and smart. It made me laugh.

No other entry followed. I became curious.

Following links on his blog, I found out that Wyatt died on on November 17, a few days after he last posted in his blog..

He was leaning against a glass window. It broke, He fell from the 5th floor.

He was 24. He had been in Zambia for only 10 weeks. He had just finished his training and was just about to begin his community assignment. How could something like this happen?

As one might expect, his close circle of family and friends were devastated.

Following one link after another, I realized that Wyatt had managed to leave an indelible impression on those who came to know him. He was loved and admired by many.

I am particularly moved by what his sister wrote in her own blog a few weeks after Wyatt was buried.

Three years after Wyatt’s death, a commemorative site his family and friends put up still continues to be active.

As with anything that catches my interest, obviously, I’ve obsessed on this subject.

Having had to deal with the death of loved ones myself, I’m relating to the pain felt by Wyatt’s family, especially since they’re all very articulate in expressing it.

When the memories are all that you have left, you want to make sure these are shared and kept alive by as many people as possible.

I know from my own experience that the pain never really goes away. I’m thinking it might be similar to having an arm or a leg amputated . Eventually I suppose you get used to the loss and you might even learn to work around it – but you’re never ever the same again.

Finding out more about Wyatt from the stories shared about him, I feel a sense of loss for the rest of the world from his passing.

He was someone who seemed to enjoy life. He had much to live for and much to give. You can imagine what else he could have done and all the good he could still have contributed.

And, in one moment, that was all taken away.

That could happen to any of us. Today - I'm writting this post or you're reading it. Tomorrow - who knows?

This makes me think about my own life and all the things I still want to do.

This is a reminder to live each day as though it might be my last – to be thankful for it, and not to waste any moment of it on regret, anger or hatred.

I don't know Wyatt Ammon or his family but, from thousands of miles away, this is my way of helping keep his memory alive. Wyatt Ammon was here in this world. I honor his memory and the life that he seems to have lived so well.


Rest in peace, Wyatt Ammon.

Getting Here

I am sure it is not obvious but I am given to some amount of introspection.

If you don’t see the humor in the preceding statement, you must be a first time visitor to this blog.

Or you have no appreciation for irony – in which case, you may want to be my friend but never will be (sorry) :-).

From time to time,, I indulge myself and I look back at my life. With the benefit of hindsight, I can pinpoint the areas where I could have done differently – chosen another path, taken another approach, made other choices.

But I look back as one might review earlier pages of a book being read. You do so knowing the story can’t be changed but just want to be reminded of how its twists and turns have taken you to the current page. Or sometimes, you just feel the need to revisit insights or lessons that could be applied now or at anytime in the future.

I try not to look back with regret. What is done is done. And I know that – however a life choice has turned out – it was always the best I could have made under the circumstances present then.

I no longer have any grand plans or ambitions. Whatever my aspirations were in my younger years, I've accepted that in my lifetime I will not be able to end poverty or find a cure for cancer.

I take each day as it comes. On a daily basis, I try to make the best decision I could make, no matter how seemingly inconsequential.


I lead a very ordinary life. My daily decisions will hardly determine how the world at large will fare – but many are big enough not only to affect other people and their well-being but also potentially alter my perception of the kind of person I want to be.

The choices are not always clear-cut but I try to keep my criteria consistent.

Have I considered all sides? Am I being truthful? Am I being fair? Can I live with my choices? Will the right people benefit from this decision? If this decision will cause initial harm, will it be eventually for the greater good?


And why do my questions sound like the Rotary Club's Four Way Test?


Sometimes, the answers are not needed immediately and I can enjoy the luxury of pondering But, more often, the answers are required in a split second. So, I say a short prayer, go with what my gut tells me and psych myself up to own up to my choices.

Calibrating and following my life compass in this way, one decision eventually leads to another and I sometimes find myself where I am without necessarily meaning to be there.

I do have my “Huh, how did I get here?” moments. But then again – given how the decisions that were made got me to wherever – I know that I am where I am supposed to be for the moment and I am there for the right reasons.

And, no matter what the present is, I know that the future brings with it countless opportunities for second chances and fresh starts.

No regrets. Only hope.

And this prayer.

My Life as a Player

I’ve never been very good at sports and we didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up (we wuz poah, y'all). But I’ve always had a great imagination.

As a result, I’ve had to be creative in devising ways to amuse myself.

Here are some of the games I’ve created with family and friends over the years.

1. “The Japanese are coming!” game - When we were young, my sisters and I would shout “The Japanese are coming!” at the top our lungs. That was a signal to run as fast as we could to get to a destination. This was inspired by stories from our parents about growing up during World War II. I do need to say that I’ve since made a lot of Japanese friends. Today, when I hear somebody shouting “The Japanese are coming!” , I’m more likely to run towards them, not away. However, the objective of arriving ahead at a destination remains the same. At least two players must participate. This can be played anytime exercise or speed is required. Or - when you all need to use the bathroom.

2. “The most painful” game – This is topping-off your friends’ idea of what the most painful thing could be. The last time I played this, the runaway winner was – "chewing on blades then gargling with vinegar". At least two players are needed. “Betrayal is not a valid answer and will ruin the game– this is about physical pain not a an existentialist discussion. While this can be great fun - unfortuantely, it can not be played too often as there are only so many ways to hurt yourself.

3. “The Houdini” game – This is tying yourself up to a post or any immoveable object and racing to see who’s able to break free first. At least two players are required with one other person to check on time and to prevent cheaters. This can be played anytime you have too much time on your hands.

4. “The mental math” game – This is a race to arrive at the product of two numbers with at least three digits each. The answer has to be arrived at mentally without the use of paper or a calculator. At least two players are required. This is great for long road trips or when you run out of conversation topics.

5. "The use-this-word" game - Occassionally, just before a big presentation to a public audience or an important client, I would ask my companions to give me any word they could think of and I would bet that I would be able to use these in -context. It's great fun to figure out how to make words like "necrophilia" or "lipstick" relevant when you're talking about software.

6. "The guess-my-age" game - When you're in a restaurant with a group of friends, you ask the server to guess how old each of you are. This is very risky and certainly not for the faint-hearted, very similar to Russian roulette. You never know what you're going to get. But, it an also be very satisfying when you're given an age lower than your real one, even if you know that the server is lying

So, who needs a stupid X-Box when you can do all of these?

(photo courtesy of Forti Suarez, may not be reproduced without prior permission)

The Blues

My natural facial expression is the absence of one. I can't help it. I make a great poker player but it's not uncommon for people to assume that I'm one of those insufferable people who's bored all the time and can't seem to be satisfied with anything.

But, if you get to know me, you'll know that it’s so very easy to make me happy. I get off on the smallest of things. A good joke. A good bargain. A plate of steaming rice with garlicky adobo. Any of these – or similar simple joys - and I’m grinning ear to ear or laughing out loud. I laugh a lot.

Also, I have a unique talent for recognizing and pointing out the absurd and humorous even in the most adversarial of situations. That gets me into trouble sometimes when people take me too literally. But, good friends know me enough to laugh with me. And that’s a good thing. It makes the hairiest of problems so much easier to deal with once you’re able to make light of it.

But, sometimes I get sad. Often, the mood passes right away. The sadness can be easily dispelled by any one of my simple joys - like a gentle wind blowing a dark cloud away on a sunny afternoon.

Occassionally, the sadness stays on for days – like a thick, wet blanket that’s too heavy to be shaken off. The sadness can be triggered by any number of things. A memory. A failure. A disappointment.

Or it can just come for no apparent reason – late at night when it’s quite . Or long holiday week-ends when everyone is away doing their own thing. I never lack invitations or choices for company but there are times when I don’t feel like being a guest and the person on the periphery of the photos – there but not quite there. You know what I mean.

I suppose the sadness is a function of being alone. However, I know enough from late night conversations and caffeine or alcohol-fueled discussions with friends, that “alone” can take on many forms.

I know of many other people with families and partners and children (and pets and plants) who've told me that sometimes they too feel alone. Somebody once told me ( I have to keep track of who’s said what to me so I can attribute my quotes) that the loneliest feeling is to be with someone and yet still feel alone.

They have thoughts they want to share, tentative feelings they want to process – but there’s no one who can or wants to listen. Or no one who can understand without making it about them. It’s hard to talk to people about some things that they might construe as a judgment on their own failings (i.e. "I love you so why are you still so sad. What did I do wrong this time? Why is it that anything I do is never good enough?")

I think sadness makes one more empathic, especially with those that we see as kindred spirits. Without having to throw regular pity parties, we're able to see the pain and struggle behind the jokes and the laughter. And we're able to respect and accept the sadness in others without being threatened by it.

Without this empathy, other people seem to find it easy to easy to ignore or nullify the sadness because the reasons are not clear or obvious (i.e. "You have no reason to be sad, you self pitying-wimp, so you can't be really sad. You're just making this up in your head").

Whatever. Right now, I can't really think about other people. All I know is that tonight, at this moment, I'm feeling sad. You don't have to understand it. Just accept my current state for what it is.

I’ll snap out of this, I always do.

Quotes that Have Inspired me in Countless Profound Ways

Some people quote from great literary works of art – I quote lines from characters on prime-time:

Ugly Betty's Father – “ Growing up is not about making the right decisions; its about dealing with the consequences of the decisions we make”

Lucas from One Tree Hill – “Sometimes all we can pray for is the courage to wake up another day”

So, shoot me.

I Was a Teen-Age Dorky Dork

My elementary/high-school email group is very active. We have our own web-site. Mini-reunions are being planned and held all over the world.

Amongst ourselves, we share a lot of history but, prior to this renewed friendship, our knowledge of each other was largely from our time together as students.

At that time, we were probably too absorbed in our own troubles and uncertainties (our so called teen-age angst, if you will :-) ) that we had very little capacity to be aware of or sensitive to the concerns of others.

Coming together as adults - we can look back and laugh at each other and ourselves

But, no mater how anyone tries to rationalize it now, I was a dork.

Being the cool and suave person I am now – it might be hard to imagine I was anything but.

Let me make my point:

1. One day, walking through the school grounds, I was hit in the head by a volleyball. The ball whacked me on the head and then bounced off. I pretended not to notice and walked right on. It was either that or: a) get mad; b) volley the ball back; d)faint from the pain – all of which I was too embarrassed to do. This is the first time I am publicly sharing this story.

2. In Music class in grade school we were required to perform at the end of each term to showcase our musicality. I have no musicality. To pass the class, I lip-synched and danced to a 45’ recording of Long Haired Lover from Liverpool. Our former teacher is now a nun. I'm not saying these two events are related but - one never knows.

3. My prom date dumped me . The date started really well. Picked her up. Had the corsage. Somebody else ended up bringing her home. I ended up helping the Food Committee clean-up and bring the left overs home. Prom Date is now one of my oldest,dearest and closest friends. Jon Cryer would play me in the movie. Molly Ringwald would be Prom Date. Huh, what? They made it into a movie already? Imagine that :-).

4. I was crowned Mr. Nutrition of 1976. They cancelled the competition immediately after.

Who am I kidding? I'm still a dork. But, now YOU have your own examples to prove it

-end-

The Three Days of Darkness

That’s what my friend thought I was preparing for when she came to visit and saw my bathroom for the first time.


I’m paranoid about running out of my brands-of-choice for everything from toilet paper (Joy 2 ply)) to shaving blades (Mach3) . It goes on.

And we’re just talking about my bathroom here. You should see my pantry


Or my liquor cabinet (which by itself should be the subject of another post – another friend at one time thought I might need an intervention)

Or my magazine pile. Or my DVD pile.

Why am I such a hoarder?

I’ve never really thought about it before but now that I have a blog, and my very own public (yes, all three of you :-) ), everything is potential material.

Theory 1

The “three days of darkness” theory does strike some resonance It’s a Catholic boy thing. The 3 days will supposedly signal the end of the world, giving people time to repent and pray before Judgment Day .

Stocking up on food and water kinda make sense – we wouldn’t want to go hungry or thirsty waiting for the Lord to come. But toiletries? I guess that would be me not wanting to risk being badly groomed when I meet our Maker. Who knows maybe hygiene might count for extra points when determining who’s in or out (all the stinky people with acne will go to hell).

Between eating and exfoliating – hopefully, I could still be able to squeeze in some praying and reflection.

Theory 2

I’m manifesting my history. Both my parents grew up during the war. I was in grade school during the rice shortage caused by the giant typhoons across Northern Luzon in the 70;s. Coup attempts during my lifetime have closed down supermarkets. These were life-or-death situations. Again, stocking up on food and water makes sense. But liquor? I’m explaining that with the need to numb the pain and fear during these emergencies. And, if you’re drinking anyway – you might as well have the makings for various cocktails.

Theory 3

More than the fear of running out of stuck – I fear boredom. The magazines and DVDs are there to make sure that in the event that I’m holed up in the condo and can’t get out (i.e. because of war, super typhoons, coups, gas attacks, cable TV not working, killer running amuck in the hallway, Judgment Day) – at least I would always have something to read or watch.

-end-

Postscript:

Since putting up this post, I've decided to stop the hoarding. I am not going to buy any more toiletries until I've used up everything I have. If you come across me and catch a whiff of coconut-vanilla - that would be the smell of the liquid soap I filched from a hotel in Taipei in 1986.

State of My Nation Address

a) I’ve found that the best way to immediately cope with any kind of depression or failure is to do a good deed.

First, it takes your mind off your situation.

Second, it lets you acknowledge that there might be problems greater than yours. We've heard one variation or the other of this throughout our lives (i.e. "think of all the children in China" - this was, of course, way before China started on the road to economic superpower-hood) .

The third reason is a bit more compelling. Doing something good for others (especially at your "down-and-out-est") - and not expecting anything in return - is empowering. It makes you feel less helpless. As as a pick-me-up, this sure beats bingeing, self-pity, whining, moaning and boring your friends with all of the above- hands down.

I've since added "generosity" to the blessings for which I pray when I'm introuble, ie - "Lord, in this time of trial, please give me strength, wisdom, courage, sincerity and generosity".

b) I can't explain nor control everything. Me, being me, I'm going to try but if I can't - then I'll just have to let go and respect the flow. Things always eventually explain themselves (or as Inday Badiday’s mother supposedly said, “Even the falling of a leaf has a reason”). Going with the flow sometimes means momentarily going flaky (i.e. breaking into song, biting people, etc) as I adjust but then again that's what makes me so interesting.

c) When things go crazy around me, I go to my Center. No, it's not a pet name for a certain anatomical part. No, it's not my tummy either (although one of my beliefs is: “When in doubt, eat”). My Center is that place inside me (sorry, even I, am rolling my eyes as I write but bear with me ) where it's quite and peaceful and there's a voice saying - "You are a good person". "You will see this through". "You ate too much" ...ooops, scratch the latter.

Anyway, when things go crazy – I try to detach myself from the situation, think good thoughts, and concentrate on my breathing until it's even. I picked that up from meditation class. It works. I think the key is getting into a calm, peaceful state. Maybe it's the breathing. Anyway,did I mention I go flaky sometimes?

d) I'm not entitled to anything. I'm a first born and for the longest time, I was the cutest child (till about two years ago). That has, unfortunately, lead me to believe that things will fall into my plate just because I am.

But, that's not how the cookie crumbles. You gotta work it, baby. Then again, working your ass off doesn't necessarily guarantee you anything but it's better than staring into space and waiting to die.

e) We should all ask ourselves the question - What Am I Good At and How Can I Use It? For myself, I have the gift to communicate and inspire (I do, really).

I have the gift of listening and getting people to talk about themselves (an offshoot of being naturally curious about other people's lives - ok, I'm nosey). I'm able to connect with all sorts of people. I'm curious. I'm mildly entertaining (if all else fails, I go for the self-deprecating bald/fat jokes). Ok, so - what do I do with these gifts aside from going into show business? I'm still figuring this out.

But, I have a feeling I might find out soon – Watch out for this space!

-end-

Drawing the Line Here

I have much for which to be thankful. I have a good job, wonderful friends and the respect of my peers. I make enough to afford myself the little luxuries but not too much for wealth to be a burden.

In my life, I have loved and been loved several times over. I have regrets – who does not? – but I have learned to live with my choices.

AT 45, I figure I have about a third of my life left. But, I'm afraid that before I die of old age, I might first die from boredom - my remaining days distinguished only by their sameness and uneventfulness.

I have more than 36 pairs of shoes on active rotation - not because of greed or vanity but wearing a different pair every day is one way to break the monotony. There has to be another way:-)

Today, I am asking myself these questions - is there not more that I can do; can i still make a difference? do I have more in me to contribute? do i have energy and passion left to take on a new cause? Can I have that fifth piece of chicken?

I'd like to think so. I just don't know yet where to begin. In the meantime, I'm taking this essay from Paolo Coelho to heart.

CLOSING CYCLES
Paolo Coelho

One always has to know when a stage comes to an end.If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through.

Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have finished. Did you lose your job? Has a loving relationship come to an end? Did you leave your parents' house? Gone to live abroad? Has a long-lasting friendship ended all of a sudden?

You can spend a long time wondering why this has happened. You can tell yourself you won't take another step until you find out why certain things that were so important and so solid in your life have turned into dust, just like that.

But such an attitude will be awfully stressing for everyone involved: your parents, your husband or wife, your friends, your children, your sister, everyone will be finishing chapters, turning over new leaves, getting on with life, and they will all
feel bad seeing you at a standstill.

None of us can be in the present and the past at the same time, not even when we try to understand the things that happen to us. What has passed will not return: we cannot for ever be children,late adolescents, sons that feel guilt or rancor towards our parents, lovers who day and night relive an affair with someone who has gone away and has not the least intention of coming back. Things pass, and the best we can do is to let them really go away.

That is why it is so important (however painful it maybe!) to destroy souvenirs, move, give lots of things away to orphanages, sell or donate the books you have at home. Everything in this visible world is a manifestation of the invisible world, of what is going on in our hearts and getting rid of certain memories also means making some room for other memories to take their place.

Let things go. Release them. Detach yourself from them. Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Do not expect anything in return, do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, your love to be understood.Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again, the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss: that is only poisoning you, nothing else.

Nothing is more dangerous than not accepting love relationships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off waiting for the ideal moment.

Before a new chapter is begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back. Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person nothing is irreplaceable, a habit is not a need.

This may sound so obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is very important. Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply
because that no longer fits your life.

Shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust. Stop being who you were,and change into who you are. .

Stuff I've Learned (Learnt?). Ok, Stuff I Know Now.

1. Cheesy but true - just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want doesn’t mean that person doesn’t love you the best way he or she knows how. And that should count for something.

2. No matter how much you work for it and how good your intentions are, there are things that really aren’t meant to be. When you’re sure you’ve given it your best and won’t look back with regret, just move on.

3. Listen to everything but take as much time as you need to make your own opinion. You’re accountable for all your decisions so you better make sure you’re making the right ones.

a. Corollary 1 to the above Most of the noise in this world is the one from our heads. We can’t hear because we’re too busy second guessing while somebody else is talking

b. Corollary 2 to the above. Not making a decision is not an option. You should stand up for what you believe in. I’m going to have to borrow from Alghieri who said, “the hottest part of hell is reserved for those who, in times of moral crisis, stand back and do nothing.”

4. Everything is temporary. We should enjoy what we have while they last. but shouldn’t expect that we’ll have them forever. So, make the moment of enjoyment worth it.
a. Corollary to the above – and borrowed from a dear friend – while we remember the past and make plans for the future, let’s not forget to live in the here and now.

5. I can be like the calm blue ocean: vast, serene, nourishing, symbiotic, nice to look at.

6. I can also be like the raging, dark, murky, slimy, freezing sea. But at the end of the day, I'd rather not.

7. Positive energy generates more positive energy. Negative energy has the same effect. We can choose what kind of energy to surround ourselves with.

8. I am more like my Dad than I thought I was.

9. A person who is angry or violent or vicious is - more often than not - just crying out for somebody to listen to him/her.

10. Staring at your bike doesn’t count as exercise.

11. Having a dream is a beautiful, noble thing.

12. I am blessed with good friends, a childhood happier than most, many happy memories, the ability to recognize the humor in the absurd, the ability to empathize and style to spare.

13. People come and go in our lives but some have the power to leave us with everlasting pain or joy - long after that person's face/voice/smell fades into memory.

14. Whether I like it or not, some people have given me the irrevocable power of causing them great joy or great pain. I have to remember that and be careful about what I say or do.

15. Never underestimate the power of a smile or a kind word. Or, for that matter, a careless remark or action.

16. I like being with people who take their work but not themselves seriously.

17. I can’t change the world but I can change myself and the people around me.

18. It’s not unusual for people to stare at me as I walk by. And I don’t mind.

19. I figure prominently in some people's sexual fantasies. And I don’t mind.

One Day in a Taxicab (from a letter sent to friends in 2005)

Somebody once told me, I laughed too hard so my heart gave out.

That last sentence was totally force-fitted but cool, huh? :-) (somebody actually did say that to me) .

Anyway, so, I’ve been going through some kind of weird transition , especially over the past 2-3 years. I find that I laugh a little less loudly, dress up a little less colorfully, proceed a little more cautiously, sing a lot less frequently - but no less horribly. Maybe it’s my age, maybe it’s my health. It doesn’t matter really. We can’t expect to be the same forever. That's the way it is.

However, some things have not changed. Although I have never been fearless. I have always, always been hopeful. And one of my greatest hopes has always been that at the end of the day Good will make a difference.

I know (I bet some of you do too :-) ) that I can be really mean and petty and vindictive (ahem - in my defense, it is my dichotomies that make me the complex, fascinating person that I am :-)) but I have my moments - those precious few instances when the opportunity to do good presents itself and we act on the opportunity without hesitation.

Here's a visual: Silas Marner counting his gold coins by the light of a candle in an otherwise dark and dingy room. That's me when I'm feeling particularly loathsome about myself. I lay down those moments like pieces of gold in front of me and I derive comfort and joy from the reminder that I'm not such a bad person after all and there's hope for me yet.

Well, one of those gold coins seemed a little less shiny recently. There was this thing that I did a few years ago for an old man I met in a taxicab whose wife was dying , or so he said. Purely by coincidence, I came across the old man again a few weeks ago. He didn¡¯t mention our earlier encounter. That threw me off the loop a bit but I couldn’t immediately figure out exactly why.

Did he make up the story many years back? Was I duped? Was it my ego hurting from not being acknowledged? Pride? I finally realized it was disappointment I felt more than anything else. I don't think he was lying the first time I met him. His story was consistent. Having settled that, I realized that what was disturbing to me was not so much the thought that I wasn’t remembered but that the experience didn’t even warrant a mention at all. In my mind, I thought I had made a difference in someone else's life - that an act of kindness I was responsible for may have provided an affirmation of faith and a reason for hope for the old man. But nope, there seemed to be none of that. If anything, he seemed just as sad and just as tired - perhaps even more so than when we first met.

That kind of bummed me out for awhile. But sometimes you just have to let things go. I guess I’ll never know the old man’s real story. I may not have made a difference in his life ( or I may have) but I made a difference in my life. An act of kindness is by itself an affirmation of faith and a reason for hope.

You just have to put it out there and whatever happens or however it is taken does not take away from the act itself.

-end-

Total Eclipse of the Heart Attack (from a letter sent to family in 2004)

I had a heart attack in October of 2004. I was 41. During my recuperation period, I realized, among other things, how unprepared I was should the worst have happened. There were too many things that were unsaid, undone, unfinished.

I left the hospital with a resolve to put everything in order. All my papers and documents are now properly labeled and filed. My old clothes are in storage or have been given away. My books and CD’s are arranged according to title, author or subject. I’m back to work, I’m seeing my friends. I try to watch what I eat and I now have a gym membership.

While I’m glad about these changes, things still don’t quite seem right.

I had a major car accident a few years ago. The car ended up inverted at a 45 degree angle to the ground, a few feet away from a deep ravine. I was not wearing a seatbelt. I got out without a bruise. I immediately came up with all these resolutions about focusing on the important things and taking advantage of what seemed to be a new beginning.

A few years later, I had turned into a stressed, tired, cynical, bored person being wheeled into the Emergency Room by excited medical interns. So much for that new beginning.

So now, I have yet another lease on life. While I’m starting this one with very organized files, I’m not sure what to do with it yet.

On one end, I don’t want to make any more resolutions I can’t keep. On another, I don’t want to go back to the old habits and find myself at 50 still living off the remnants of my potential.

Right now, It just feels like I’m a transient in my own life. I’m trying things on for size without any commitment to stay , keep or buy. It’s very strange really. Seems similar to something I read about plane crash survivors. They go back to their lives with a super heightened awareness that makes them feel like they’re watching their own lives. Maybe our senses get turned up to maximum levels just at the moment that we face death and it takes some time before they’re calibrated back to normal levels.

I suspect I’m going through some weird process of which we won’t see the end for some time. While the process may end with the discovery of new ways to make myself miserable, it may also end with a breakthrough towards a more meaningful and relevant life. With my luck, I’m probably going to be run over by a ten-wheeler the day after that kind of break through :-)