Skipping stones one Sunday afternoon...

Miracle

2008-01-13T21:11:00.000+08:00

So, here is what has been keeping me busy the past couple of months. Let me introduce you to Téa Villalon (pronounced Tey'-ah). She's three days old and a bundle of joy. Born on the 10th of January, she actually wanted to join the party a month earlier but that just wouldn't have worked. :-)

We took her home yesterday and are in the process of settling in. Her manang Ada is very curious about her, yet she is so tremendously gentle when she is around.

Conversation with two friends who I happily bumped into the day after Téa was born:

"You know, I was worried that I would not be able to love another child as much as I love Ada. But when the nurse put Téa in my arms, I got it then and there.", I said.

"Yeah dude, love's not a bucket, it's an endless ocean (sic).", said D.C.

The Glory of Bidding (or, why ebay should be deemed morally reprehensible by the Church)

2007-09-30T18:08:00.000+08:00

So Paypal now allows transactions for buyers from the Philippines.

With this development driven by laissez faire market forces, folks from the good 'ol P.I. are now free to bid with (reasonable) confidence at the glamorous online palengke mecca known as ebay. Having checked my trepidation at the door, I dusted off my long hibernating ebay account and proceeded to link it with my newly minted Paypal account.

This actually took more time than I thought as Paypal requires that one validates a credit card by competing a transaction with them first, which is then reversed during the first use of the account. So after a couple of days of waiting, I was finally able to place some bids on Saturday afternoon.

And bid I did.

And did.

And did.

And did.

And did I bid.

36 hours later...

I'm a certified auction junkie! For all of you out there who have experienced the thrill of seeing a bid go green, or felt the unbridled shock and panic of a deal turn red with 5 minutes to go before closing, you know exactly what I'm talking about. My hands are shaking from lack of sleep, I'm frazzled from watching multiple bids, and am cursing at people with names like hotdiggedy78, urbestglfr and dallasplayer.

It's unusual behavior, it's not gentlemanly in any way, and I can't stop doing it!

On Golf

2007-09-21T08:36:00.000+08:00

Back in 2004, after not touching my golf clubs in five years, I pulled them out of mothballs, brimming with hope and excited to feel the morning mist upon my face as the waking sun gently warmed the well manicured fairways of the course I was to play. Predictably, I then promptly played my worst round of golf since college and immediately banished my golf bag to dark storage. I thought, that was that. Embarrass me once, shame on you; twice, shame on me.

Now, three years later, and against my better judgment, I find myself strangely drawn to that siren's call once more. I've been going to the range religiously for the past two months and am actually seeing a pro to contribute to my swing (note: my pro is awesome, so if anyone out there wants to learn from one of the best in Manila, drop me a note). My game still isn't pretty, but I'm convinced that I will be one of the best.

Which brings me to my next point -- I am declaring that my handicap will be below 10 by August next year. To put that into perspective, that would be the equivalent of training to complete a full Ironman Triathlon, or developing the stamina to walk from Isabela to Cebu, or practicing hard enough to hit twenty half-court shots in a row.

Absurd? Just a little. Doable? You becha!

So if you're looking for a golfing buddy, or you want to give it a try -- come on over!

Rebirth

2007-09-09T09:34:00.000+08:00

So...

After months of inactivity I am revisiting my blog, and establishing a new Sunday morning habit -- my weekly post.

So to get the juices flowing I am listing all of my personal projects down and commit to discuss them at length in the weeks to come. :-)

0. Family!
1. Design Firm -- Creating the best Interactive Experience
2. Lizbeck
3. Baseball Philippines
4. My golfing aspirations
5. Podcasting (2 Guys and a Mic - the other guy being Pepper F.)
6. Futsal Philippines

*Note to world -- the Philippines rocks!

Pride

2006-08-22T23:02:00.000+08:00

[WARNING: LONG POST ]
The question I have the most difficulty answering is, "Where did you graduate from?"

In Manila, there are a handful of elite universities that command the most respect. They are, in no particular order, The School on a Hill, The Parking Challenge, and the Home of the Naked Runners. Of course, there are other institutions of favorable repute, but the past few decades have seen these three emerge as the academic heavy weights.

Needless to say, alumni of the three are held in very high regard; while those who were accepted but politely declined continuance are often frowned upon and generally pointed out to young children in a manner akin to the biblical treatment of lepers.

Now, while the leper reference may seem to be a little harsh I'll vouch for the veracity. Because I am one such leper.

I am one of the unfortunates who squandered the opportunity to avail of the best academic facilities in the country, learn from the sharpest minds in the field, and graduate with the future leaders of our soon-to-be-proud-again nation. I am one of the fools who spent his future inheritance in malls, bars and dark corners while the others squeezed the marrow out of their university experience.

I barely felt my fall from grace -- too numb from abusing myself and too secluded in arrogance to admit my foolhardiness. When I finally stirred from my proud haze, I was sitting in a dimly lit classroom in a foreign campus while a strange professor explained Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs in front of the class, a freshman in a fifth-choice institution.

So while my batchmates had joined the corporate game and were moving up the ladder, the only mobility I experienced was the commute to and from my new school. I was starting from scratch, my self-worth was shattered, and I had three more years of studying ahead of me. And Lord help me, I did actually study for those three years.

Channeling a dedication I hadn't displayed since high school, I aced every test and every subject, I took full loads over summers and tried to overload every term, I also applied for reinstatement at my former university, but that was a shot at the moon and I knew it from the start. I did odd jobs to earn some spending money -- technical writing, stock market analysis, even internships at law offices, anything to scrape some experience together. I was so focused that a lump of coal would have been crushed into a diamond had I stared at it long enough. I was so determined that I took on a full time job as a software engineer during my graduating term while I completed my thesis.

And after seven years, one ex-girlfriend, and thousands of kilometers traveled to and from schools I finally got my degree.

Three months later a multinational invited me to apply for a Systems Analyst position and fortunately I've steadily risen through the ranks from that starting point.

So where did I graduate from? Not from the hill, not from the home of the naked run, but rather from the humble institution that sits across the parking challenge. I graduated from The College of St.Benilde. My only shame is that it took me this long to say it.

Pressure

2006-08-19T01:23:00.000+08:00

It weighs upon me like a leaden shirt, pulling me ever so slowly into the vile pit.

Succumb, it cajoles. Snickering and sneering like every bad experience, wretched encounter and wicked failure all rolled into one. I ignore it, and it has me where it wants me.

Fall, it commands. I struggle to shed it from my person, but it clings determinedly. I clutch at the tightening collar around my neck, but it persists -- and I am bound. I fight it, and it toys with me most cruelly.

Surrender, it proclaims. And I cannot refuse, for my being is crushed by its thunderous mass and I fall to my knees.

I acknowledge it, and I am myself again.

I didn't know it was lost until I started looking for it...

2006-06-21T13:51:00.000+08:00

I love books.

I love the way the pages slide off my fingertips when I turn a page. I love the glossy, matte, embossed, colorful, sparse, chaotic, ordered manifestations of their covers. I love curling up on my sofa to learn, understand, escape, enlighten, experience.

Unfortunately, my hoarding instinct normally gets the better of me and my bookshelf groans under the weight of unread literature.

Needless to say, it is a momentous occasion when I finally seek out one of the Forgotten.

So when I decided to finish reading Lugar, I was mortified to find that it could not be found. Oh the perils of procrastination.

Now here I sit, eager and unfulfilled. Waiting for replies to the text messages I send out in a desperate attempt to find the person who I'd loaned the book to.

I thing the book is trying to teach me a lesson...

Downtime

2006-06-02T10:18:00.000+08:00

I love driving in industrialized countries.

I get such a thrill out of opening a map, plotting point A and point B, then feeling the adrenaline rush as I turn the key that ignites the engine. So when my family and I decided that we would drive the northeast coast of the States, I was giddy like a child on Christmas morn.

We started out at our Tita's place in VA, plotted our way to Boston for a short stay, then down through NY and onto Philadelphia for four more days before finally making our way back to VA.

Open roads, great company and cheesy Rock and Roll.

Heaven.

Little lessons

2006-02-27T22:25:00.000+08:00

I am astounded by how my love for my daughter grows with every day that passes.

Over the past six months I've had astounding emotions wrenched uncomfortably from my being, and lavished around crib, playmat and baby carrier. And I know that it's my Ada making me a better person.

Everyday athlete

2006-02-15T11:27:00.000+08:00

I'm happy to say that I have been much more active these days.

Basketball twice a week, badminton twice a week, and jogging twice a week. (I soooo want to hit the gym again, love the gloves my teammates gave me my last birthday).

Feels good.

Basketball is basketball -- just looking to make sure that I do the little things to help the team win.

Badminton on the other hand is a lot more intense than I remember it to be. I used to play back in high school, and I sucked so bad. I'm still lousy, mind you, but I'm having a lot more fun with my lousiness.

So nice to be active.

Body hurts though.

Songs of Love

2006-02-05T23:25:00.000+08:00

One of the things I love about my relationship with my wife the music that accompanies our everyday life. We sing in the car, sing to our baby, sing to our pet fish, and are never shy to spontaneously break out into song.

I'm not saying that it's music to everyone else who hears it, but to us there is no sweeter sound.

To honor that, here are some songs that make up the soundtrack of my relationship:

1. Accidentally In Love - Counting Crows
2. You Go to My Head - Billie Holiday
3. God Only Knows - Beach Boys
4. Sweetest Thing - U2
5. She Makes my Day - Robert Palmer
6. Would You Light my Candle - RENT
7. One True Love - Semisonic
8. I Try - Macy Gray
9. No Such Thing - John Mayer (Enjoyed best as it wafts from the shores of Boracay, Rina and I returning from a kayak run, while the sun slips radiantly under the horizon. One of my best memories).
...

I cannot express how joyful I am that my soundtrack continues to grow.

So everyone, pick a song, sing it loudly to yourself, and enjoy the smile that plants itself stupidly upon your face. :-)

Post-Christmas

2005-12-28T19:20:00.000+08:00

The week-long lull between Christmas day and the start of the New Year has always been my most anticipated week of the year.

It is the perfect time to get out of the city.

The time to catch up with friends.

Time to enjoy the family.

To be with the people I love.

Do things I waited the whole year to do.

Reflect.

And then it all starts up again.

Pretty blogs

2005-12-11T21:24:00.000+08:00

I've come to the realization that I don't have a pretty blog.

After a quick round of my friends' blogs, I know for sure that I have the most bland looking one.

I now have a Christmas holiday project.

A Year to Listen

2005-12-03T23:59:00.000+08:00

If I had a year to burn, this is what I would do -- I would go to every province in the Philippines, find a social worker (or something akin), and talk to people.

Not to hear my own voice, but that I may listen to the responses.

Listen to the concerns, the dreams, the ambition.

Listen to what drives people to wake up in the mornings, to what keeps them sane.

Listen to stories of days long past, and ambitions for the days to come.

Listen to everyday conversations, the local news, the sadness, the grief, the frustration.

The celebrations, the arguments, the passions.

Family stories, anecdotes, poetry, music!

Oh, for a year to listen; to listen to a country that has seen lifetimes slip away in silence.

Help me pack my bag.

Midnight Rides

2005-11-22T10:53:00.000+08:00

Midnight rides have an all new meaning for me. Gone are the days when this would connote road trips to Tagaytay, stars overhead and beer in the trunk.

Gone are the days when this would mean that the beach was beckoning, friends singing summer songs in the backseat, and waves lapping upon the shore.

Today a midnight ride means my baby daughter is crying in the backseat while my wife drives around our village, waiting for the movement of the car to lull the wailing child to sleep.

Funny how all of this makes me smile.

out on a limb

2005-11-12T15:47:00.000+08:00

I am putting up a magazine with a group of friends.

Nothing fancy, just a bunch of guys who are passionate about something and are looking to share the passion with the rest of the world. *shudder*

There is an underlying terror that accompanies endeavors of great personal weight, the monster underneath the bed who whispers, "You will never be good enough for that which you are passionate most about."

I need a sword.

18 Months

2005-10-24T22:49:00.000+08:00

That's how long I've been married.

I realized this while waiting for the elevator at the seventh floor, returning to the 35th from a quick meeting. A goofy smile tugs at the corners of my lips.

Still feels good, this marriage thing.

My Ada

2005-09-25T22:52:00.000+08:00

I've come to the painful realization that my daughter will grow up one day and break my heart.

She will fall in love with some schmuck who crawled out of the gutter, declare her undying loyalty to him and ride off into the sunset as his bride.

*sigh*

I have newfound respect for my father-in-law.

Busting the baby myth

2005-08-18T02:03:00.000+08:00

One week into fatherhood I have arrived at two realizations.

1. Money should not be a consideration when deciding whether to have a baby or not.
2. Anyone who says, 'It's all worth it once you see your baby.', is a liar.

First things first -- one does not need a lot of money to have a baby. Admittedly it is not cheap, but lets face it, people all over the world, from many walks of life, have children EVERY SECOND OF THE DAY. I am positive that there is a doctor + hospital combination somewhere near that will be more than happy to help bring your child into the world. Even if they aren't happy, you can always throw the Hippocratic Oath in their faces.

Now, for those people who say, 'It's all worth it...', I advise all my dear women readers (er, dear woman lang pala) to take that statement with a grain of salt. While I am certain that seeing one's child for the first time is utterly exhillerating, once that abrupt panacea subsides the somber reality of privates being stitched, late night feedings, and consuming diapers like tissues swiftly takes root. Yes, it is all worth it, but not for a long long time.

So what do these two divergent points have in common? Based on these two realizations I have arrived at my First Theorem of Fatherhood, 'A baby can only be successful as a decision'. To explain further, I could have decided that it costs too much to pay for a pregnancy, labor and diapers; I could have decided that raising a child is too much of a hassle and tuned myself out to the experiece. Either of those decisions would have been easy to make.

Yet here I am at two in the morning, waiting for my one week old daughter to finish feeding so that I can burp her. I've decided to be a father, and this is the most fulfilling decision I have made in my life.

One life changing event at a time

2005-08-09T07:14:00.000+08:00

Here is a timeline to represent the biggest moment of my life.

August 8, 2005

Scene: Man and pregnant woman strolling in a mall.

8:00PM - Dinner at Cibo.

9:00PM - Back home, relaxing while watching The Bridge of San Luis Rey.

9:47PM - Wife experiences a contraction. Movie continues.

9:58PM - Another contraction. Man pulls out piece of paper and records time and length of contractions.

10:13PM - Another contraction.

10:14PM - Realization that today may be the day.

10:30PM, 10:45PM, 10:58PM, 11:05PM, 11:12PM, 11:19PM, 11:26PM, 11:31PM, 11:38PM, 11:45PM, 11:52PM - More contractions.

11:53PM - Doctor is called. Hospital meeting is decided. Last minute items packed in bags.

12ish - Bags are loaded and we drive over to the hospital. Rina in good spirits.

12:30AM - We realize that since I am driving, I either leave Rina at the door and park or we both park the car and walk up to the hospital. Rina says park. I decide that it is smart to not argue with a woman in labor. The short walk does her good.

12:50AM - Rina is changing into a hospital gown. I wonder if this is a false alarm.

1:02AM - Rina is brought to the Lamaze room and they hook her up to a fetal monitor. I'm given a 'scrub' set. I wear it over my clothes and swear it is the coolest thing in the world.

1:10AM - Doctor not there but orders oxygen and an IV to be administered, she is worried about the low fetal heartrate. Rina hates needles. I distract her while they poke the IV in. Contraction strength pretty intense (100++).

1:18AM - Our Doctor arrives. Rina very relieved.

1:20AM - Internal Exam is administered, very very painful. Rina not very happy with that.

1:22AM - Internal Exam not successful, cervix still positioned posterior. Rina still not happy (but not in pain). We decide to have an epidural administered.

2:00AM - IE #1, we are 5cm dilated

3:00AM - IE#2, 7cm dilated

4:00AM - Fully dilated

4:10AM - In the delivery room now. Rina freaks out when she sees that I have a camera with me. I promise to stay above her waist.

4:21AM - Push, push, push, push. Almost there.

4:34AM - Well sized nurse gets up an stool next to Rina and places her fists upon the fundus.

4:35AM - Push from Rina, PUSH from nurse.

4:36AM - Our lives change.

And the skies opened...

2005-08-06T18:44:00.000+08:00

When I was biking home one day from my cousin's house I got caught in a sudden downpour. In a blink of an eye the skies darkened and sheets of rain came down upon my head. Confused, and drawing upon the vast wisdom a nine year old had amassed, I decided to make a break for it and sped up my pedalling -- and promptly planted my front wheel in a pothole.

'Shhhhsssssttttt!', went the air from my tire.

'Waaaaaahhhhh!', bawled the soaked child in the rain.

Moral of the story, when making decisions it's sometimes better to wait for the rain to stop pouring.

Childhood trauma notwithstanding, I love rainy days (But as Carla said, not too many days in a row or else nakakadepress). I find tremendous comfort in the pitter-patter sound upon the roof, and how the airconditioning cools several degrees the moment the sky darkens. And in this dark cool cocoon that is my room, I pick up a book and open my soul to new worlds.

itch itch itch

2005-07-24T00:57:00.000+08:00

I am woken from my slumber by an itch on my ear.

'Scratch me!', it screams. I oblige.

*ktch* *kcth *ktch*

The urgency subsides, but the itch persists.

Sleep escapes me now and I amble over to my laptop which is humming it's downloading spell, a tap on the keyboard and the screensaver snaps off.

My fingers are on the keyboard like ants on a picnic spread.

In no time at all the monitor is littered with FGD analysis pages, KSG programs, Journalism critiques, and concurrent degree information.

I am feeling the itch again.

History unfolding 35 floors beneath me

2005-07-13T14:20:00.000+08:00

I decided to go to the Robinson's Summit Center today as I'm leading a remote meeting this afternoon. Just can't trust DSL sometimes.

Below me, throngs of people are gathered in a sea of green, red and yellow, their shirts and stickers boldly proclaiming.

"Baba na Gloria at Noli!" (GMA and Noli step down!)

"Ibagsak si GMA!" (Topple GMA!)

While their loudspeakers blare, "Bagong umaga ay parating..."

Where will this new morning come from? From the same group that was removed from power four years ago by a public uprising? From the people who argue and bicker in the halls of Congress while the public groans under the burden of inflation and unemployment?

Replacing one with the other is all the same for me. There is no such thing as principle and honor in the government anymore, it is all just a game that they play. And while the general public cheers the moves of their favorite government personalities, the players could not care less. They just want to play.

There are no more heroes in government.

Change will not come from our public institutions.

Change comes from me.

And you.

No more looking for heroes, the time has come to become one.

Personal Growth

2005-07-03T22:49:00.000+08:00

Last Saturday I sat down with a Narker to do a personal Mission-Vision exercise. He is currently developing his material for a blossoming executive coaching consultancy and he decided that I would make the perfect guinea pig.

Lucky me. ;-)

For homework, he had me dig up my old M-V that I'd completed in a course a couple of years back, and lo and behold my goals were the same!

A healthy relationship with my (then fiance, now wife) Rina.
A loving family.
A financial growth engine.
Be an instigator of social change.
A legacy.

and

A collection of SL class Benzes.

*sigh*

I wonder if Gandhi secretly loved fast cars?

Any hoo, through the course of the exercise the recurring theme that was unearthed was my desire to do Family Counseling. Strange that a child from a broken home would be so eager to impart family building techniques. Or maybe, who better?

More prayer and reflection needed. ;-)

What is the difference between a politico and a stained shirt?

2005-06-27T04:20:00.000+08:00

Stained shirts would sell for more in a garage sale.

With our nation currently mired in 'Gloriagate', 'Juetengate, Part Deux' and 'Useless Houses of Congress, The Stupidity Continues', I am challenged to find optimism for our present national situation. And to make things worse, I come across this statement online.

"I don't see how you can draw a comparison between not paying taxes and the President holding her silence, at least for the time being," said Gabriel Claudio, the President's adviser on political affairs.

"Not paying taxes is simply against the law," he said. "Politics is one thing, economic sabotage and blackmail is another."

That final phrase encapsulates the mentality of the people entrenched in our government, 'Politics is one thing'. It is as if all people in government are absolved from wrongdoing because it is 'only politics'. In this statement Mr. Claudio absolves the Arroyo administration from being detrimental to the economy simply because they are implementing their political strategy. Bullshit.

I am impressed at how thick-skinned and clueless our government leaders are. Is it too great a matter for them to get their brains around that the decisions they make directly impact the state of our country? Is it so difficult for them to realize that the point of the positions they hold is to embody the very spirit of our nation? Politics is not 'one thing', politics is the only thing.

It is impossible to separate the actions of a person in government from the repercussions on the nation. If a government official is caught cavorting with interns, the example has been set for the public. If a person at the Bureau of Internal Revenue chooses to skim a peso or two off the tax returns, then that is a peso or two less to spend on the welfare of the general populace. If a president chooses to remain silent on matters of corruption and unscrupulous behavior, then the Office she represents loses its moral high ground; and the Nation that is represented by that Office is likewise tainted in the eyes of the world at large.

And no one wants to do business with shady characters (save similarly loathsome parties).

Politics different from economic sabotage? What do you call PHP55.8 to USD1?

Woe to you who sit atop your thrones without pity and remorse. Woe to you who prioritize personal gain despite being 'a servant of the people'. The time is nigh to change the order of society, or to leave quickly as the buzzards feast upon the carcass of a once proud nation.

Thump in the night

2005-06-24T01:01:00.000+08:00

Sleep appears to escape me this evening.

The past several months have been quite the nocturnal adventure for me. It seems that the moment my head touches my pillow these spectral hands seize my brain and shake every idea, thought, and emotion into a state of restless agitation.

It is in these moments of abject confusion that I find myself staring at the bizarre showdown of my dreams standing face to face with my concept of security.

Oh to be blind and idealistic, immune to the calls and pratfalls of everyday living.

At what point does risk become folly?

Truly, I am Maslow's case study.

I believe...

2005-06-12T00:05:00.000+08:00

that we can make a difference.

that we are not determined by society.

that I make things better by taking action.

Go with God

2005-06-06T00:49:00.000+08:00

In the middle of a gaming session with Pepper, I caught a Sametime message blinking on my Startbar.

Hi Simon! I assume you already know about Laura. Her body was found already. Let's pray for her soul. =(

I was floored.

she was with some friends ina river
and it had been raining a lot
and suddenly a wave ... don't know how to say it in English
well... she drowned (I hope I spelled that ok)
she was missing and we were hoping she was alive
but the red bross just found her body
bross=cross

I would not have noticed the typo anyway, my mind was already a million miles away.
Too soon, too young.

The Laura I know is a spritely girl with beautiful hazel eyes, and a personality that would make a Roman gladiator look kitten-like. Laura is full of fire, spark and energy!

Alas, snuffed out by the waters of the river.

You are in my prayers Laura, may your journey be led by angels.

No matter how many times...

2005-05-27T00:38:00.000+08:00

I watch the replay of American Idol, Carrie Underwood still beats Bo Bice.

Snakes alive.

Skeletons from the closet

2005-05-17T23:14:00.000+08:00

Going through old cds is much like reading love letters returned from an ex-girlfriend, embarrassing and self-destructive. Truly this is the true representation of once great decisions turned sour over time, and moments of inspiration that come few and far between.

While cleaning out my CD collection I was astounded to fine such rare works as Tim Finn sitting along side Rachmaninoff. Ech. Remember Charles and Eddie? Tom Cochrane? Too many one hit wonders haunt my musical past.

Moreover, bad flashbacks of big hair, choreographed poses and wagging tongues were wrenched from the dark corners of my brain and puked upon the table as Cinderella, Saigon Kick and Ugly Kid Joe stared stupidly upwards at me as if I'd shook them from a drug-induced stupor.

So as I packed these best forgotten relics of my musical adolescence, I solemnly promise to only buy what is truly good.

And torrent the rest. =P

A Day for the Proletariat

2005-05-02T18:55:00.000+08:00

While the labor of Manila was out in the streets I was gleefully indulging in what may prove to be my financial undoing, a morning at an art gallery.

Rina and I left the house at 930 this morning, made a quick swing to PPT to fetch my dad and JJ, then down Edsa extension to F.B. Harrison and into the quaint compound where Tito Albert's gallery is located.

The moment we entered the compound, it felt as if we had slipped into a kinder gentler Manila. A soft canopy of leaves sheltered the one-and-a-half car driveway and two-storey houses lined either side of the road with eight foot high grilled windows staring wide-eyed at our approach. I seriously thought that people in white americanas were going to come filing out of the houses. White men absent, we pulled into a shaded parking space and as we emerged from the car, sweet, albeit hot, air filled out nostrils and our anticipation was at its peak as we made our way to Albert's gallery.

Step, step, step, up to the porch, and through the door.

Lovely, lovely space.

Floating all around us were pieces of brilliant inspiration, marvelous color and jaw-dropping majesty. To my left, metal, acrylic paint and gold leaf was hammered and layered into a cushion for the eyes. Before me, reds, greens, whites and blues were married into an impressionist summer field. And at the base of each wall there were sculptures of various sizes that proclaimed wit, agony and spirit. Oh, feed my culture starved soul!

After an hour of moseying about, chatting with the artist on show, and generally playing squire to my dad, Albert says, "Have you seen all the rooms upstairs?"

"Why yes!", we replied.

"And?"

"The pieces are, um, nice?"

"Haaay, hindi nakita, halika may ipapakita ko sa inyo."

Back up we went and into one of the rooms we had just visited. Albert trainied our eyes to two pieces on the floor and on the upper left hand corner there was a piece of paper that read,

"Simon and Rina,

Happy Anniversary!

- Albert"

I was floored. Albert threateded to keep them since we did not notice them the first time around. I hastily arranged to have them transferred to the car. And being the gracious host that he is, he lent us another piece so we could see which one(s) work best with our place.

I felt like a kid at a candy store. :-)

After a while longer (and a visit to the furniture store across the way), we begrudgingly tore ourselves back into the real world. Away from the tree-lined roads and clustered homes. Away from the pieces of genius suspended. Away from passion captured on mixed media. Carrying hope in our quickly beating hearts.

This is the Manila that longs to emerge from the dirt encrusted metropolis in which we currently reside. Tucked that small compound off F.B. Harrison, Tito Albert's gallery is a haven for the re-emerging cultural spirit of Manila.

2005-04-27T00:41:00.000+08:00

Exquisite Cream of Broccoli

Get in touch with your soul for just 330 pesos, only at Fiesta San Miguel

2005-04-02T23:23:00.000+08:00

Somehow, moments of epiphany strike me at the most awkward moments.

Last Friday my friends and I decided to give Fiesta San Miguel at Dusit Hotel a shot. The principal attraction, drink all you can for 330 pesos; and, with an in-house microbrewery, the draught was smooth and well chilled.

One hour and two liters of beer later I was feeling quite fine. It was at this precise moment that I was struck with an astounding realization, I would be a father in four months! Dumbfounded, I blinked blearily at my brew, then broke into a smile as an overwhelming joy rose from the depths of my soul to sweep my consciousness to levels previously uncharted. (Then again, it may have just been the beer).

The question that always stumps me now is, "Anong gusto mo? Boy o girl?". This totally floors me because I still cannot get over the fact that there is no lisensure board for being a parent that I am still unable to get my brain around the concept of the astounding mystery that is the creation of life.

To sum it up succinctly, "I did that?!? Wow!"

At this moment, the shallow preference of gender is drowned by the flood of emotions that the new baby brings. I am simply too lucky to have a child on the way! I don't know what I did right, but thank the Lord seven times seventy times for this gift!

"Basta baby, masaya na ako."

aaah!

2005-03-13T21:20:00.000+08:00

My car is back!

The mechanic had to go through all the wiring to check what had been chewed through -- just a few replacement wires and a relay, nothing too heavy, thank my lucky stars.

Called an exterminator last Friday.

Stupid rat.

dammit

2005-03-10T09:22:00.000+08:00

I really enjoy my car. It's a 190E 2.3-16V, to many that last string may appear to be a funky password for a computer, but to a few, that set of numbers and letters is lightning in a bottle. While it's far from being valuable or the rarest of the collectibles, it is my first baby; the result of much saving and legwork while searching for 'just the right one'.

After driving it around for a couple of years, I decided that it would be prudent to start taking better care of the little automobile. Parts are hard to come by (it's getting quite old) and I wanted to preserve the general condition as I saved up to do a little restoration.

So, I have the garage reverted from it's bodega condition and I promote the car from its curb-side parking. The decision made so much easier after a mango decided to go banzai-bomber on the car roof. Feeling proud and content, I fell into the routine of keeping my car on the down-low and got into the habit of walking to work. Of course, I would happily visit my car everyday to give it a five minute run to keep the fluids going; and weekends were our time to re-bond.

Bliss.

Imagine my horror when I tried to start my car yesterday and was greeted by a *vrooom! sputter, sputter. bleh!*. I was stumped. Everything was peachy just the other day. What had changed? Kepner-Tregoe practices came to the surface uncontrollably. I popped open the hood and was perplexed by what I was looking at.

"Is that a chicken bone on my engine block? And that rice?"

After a quick consult with the security guard, we deduced that the culprit was... a rat. Quite literally, a rat. The scoundrelous rodent had climbed into my engine during the night and made a home. In the process, he/she/it figured that a little cleaning up was in order and proceeded to rid the chamber of the clutter that was my electrical wiring, some relays and who-knows-what-else.

Sigh.

The garage is empty now, my car towed away to my shop for inspection and resurrection. Rina thought it was funny.

*Sniff sniff*

arrgh

2005-03-08T20:58:00.000+08:00

I realized that I wanted to use this site for blogging, but already started on livejournal.

Hassle.

When is pornography not pornography?

2005-01-31T15:59:00.000+08:00

When you are married, expecting your first child and taking pot shots at single friends with huge porno stashes.

Rina and I had our Sunday dinner with Dad, Mom and RJ. 'Twas a fairly run-of-the mill meal at a very nice restaurant (Good Earth, Greenbelt. Love the Duckitos), engaging conversation, discussion of the family business (Note: In this context, the family business of my In-Laws). However, it was when dinner ended that the the helping of lewdness was served.

Bidding good-bye to the three, Rina and I proceeded to meet up with our good friend Manito over at Cafe Breton. Pleasant hellos and cheerful banter commenced.

Not long after, a jolly Pepper joined our little group. More hellos, slightly louder banter.

We hadn't seen each other since the Holidays and were all catching up.

"What are your Holy Week plans?",

"How is the baby coming along?",

"Did you know that one in eight pregnancies is a 'Vanishing Twin' case?",

"I remember when my older brother would sneak his overdue pornos into the stack of laser discs I was returning so he wouldn't have to pay the late fees."

Unbridled laughter explodes from our table. The kind that bounces off every corner of the room and reflects back to the source at the exact time that the next wave escapes the lips. The kind that carries multiple tones of joy, wistful remembrance and embarrassment. The kind that causes people to stare, then smile at the sound as they recall their own episodes of similar pealing. I wish I could bottle this stuff.

Upon reflection, the way we treat pornography may be indicative of the level of sexual maturity a person currently practices. Back in High School, pornography was the cool thing to do -- ergo, the more porno you had the more of a man you were. Of course, this theory was totally blown out of the water when one of the most avid flesh-on-print traders came out of the closet when we were in college. At this point, it was all theory and no practice.

Come college (horrible play on words, I know, I know...), pornography steps out from the closets, hidden briefcases, and mattress crannies into the acknowledged world. I believe that this is the time when most of Manila's fairer sex actually gets to sneak a peek at these corrupting artifacts. This is because most young girls were busy nurturing relationships and building on their emotional maturity during high school; while most young men were trying to break into the porno stash of their fathers/older brothers/neighbors, or mustering the courage to ask the saleslady for the 'X' dee-bee-dee. Now, the first co-ed environment for most, the resourcefulness of the hormonally raging boys meets up with the innocence and curiosity of the girls. A couple of giggle-ridden conversations later, and coupled with the strength of the barkada, a group of people watch a porn flick.

Guys think, "It'll be just like in the movie! We'll all be nekkid by the second sex scene!"

Girls think, "That's kinda gross. Interesting, but gross."

If you had an 'interested' girl in college, lucky you. If not, well, I'm sure you put that porn to good use.

College is way past, and for a married guy like me, brushes with pornography go something like this:

Wife, "Hey what is this 'Tera Patrick - Caribbean' file on your computer?"
Me, "Oh, that's pornography."
"Why is it here?"
"My friend said it was good."
"Hmmm...", an eyebrow is raised.
"I'll delete it."

*Click, Shift-Delete*

My single friends (the ones with the stacks and gigs of porn) rag on me and say that I'm whipped. I see their point. At the end of every day, though, I know that I get to crawl into bed with the most wonderful woman in the world. At the end of my friends' day, more often than not, they flip on a switch, pull up a chair, and grab a box of tissues.

Please be gentle

2005-01-23T16:00:00.000+08:00

I'm looking at this as an exercise in regression, something akin to self-hypnosis.

I am hoping that with an outlet for reflection, and ultimately introspection, I will be able to tackle the issues that gnaw noiselessly within me.

At the very least, someone will have a good laugh.

And so we begin...