Though not as big

I can forego lunch in place of a fabulously rich sweet treat. Sweets have a special place in my stomach that it can tolerate skipping any of the three main meals of the day if the sweet is right! I think mostly of chocolate cakes and brownies and revel bars and cheesecakes and donuts and any of the bitbit goodies of Goldilocks whenever my sweet tooth goes crazy telling my system to indulge into something sugary.

Donuts are surefire sweet craving suppresors. These treats appeal to consumers mostly due to both its affordability and availability . Just go to your neighboring convenience store and I'm thinking seven-eleven for a couple or three mister donuts(they carry the mister donut brand name) to satiate your sugar pangs. Mister donut and Dunkin donuts, these two pioneers of the donut business in the Philippines have been here for how long I can't remember. Used to be their donuts were big but stiff competition brought about by the fad that was Gonuts Donuts plus the increase in prices of basic commodities: sugar and flour, made these donut pioneers rethink their marketing strategy and voila; they came up with the smaller donut and lowered their price to a rock steady and consumer friendly 10pesos. Not too long ago, a Peso was the measure of the expendable amount for the Pinoy consumer. You would hear commercials saying " ano pa ba ang mabibili sa piso?" Somehow, you can't help but shake your head in disappointment that 10 pesos has now become the new 1 peso and it didn't take tenfold of a lifetime for the changing of the guard.

Gonuts Donuts took the country by storm a few years back and curiously, it isn't a fancy foreign brand-franchised as most people initially thought it was. It is proudly Pinoy, though its idea was borne out of the desire to bring Krispy Kreme like donuts to the Philippines. Gonuts is clearly a poor man's Krispy Kreme. When it first came into business only those who have gone to America could testify how similar they were in taste but to most Pinoys who had only heard but not tasted a Krispy Kreme, Gonuts was a class on its own. To them, including I, no donut had tasted like it. Suddenly the condemning eyes and pointing fingers were channeled rather disappointingly to Dunkin and Mister for not having measured up to something so different in taste but which was already there prior(Krispy Kreme). Major broadsheets chucked up ads upon ads of these supposedly original tasting donuts which were sold only, at that time, in Fort Bonifacio.

Krispy Kreme soon followed suit. The same people who gave us Max's fried Chicken are the ones who made possible Krispy Kreme in the Philippines. A month prior to Krispy Kreme setting its foot on Pinoy Soil I was able to grab myself a dozen when I went to Hong Kong. Guided by my gut feel and an innate sense of direction, like a human compass or sextant, I was able to locate the the small and cramped Krispy Kreme store in SOHO. GPS uses triangulation to zero in on its target location. The way I found Krispy Kreme I guess I'd be more of a modern day GPS than the antiquated compass and sextant. Gut feel plus innate sense plus sense of smell, yes sense of smell complements the triangulation process. I actually passed by a few meters from the exact location and if not for the pervasive caramel smell I would have gone home telling only stories to the folks at home how close I was to buying them Krispy Kremes.

Despite me being a sweet tooth, I can only have so much. The first time I bought Gonuts Donuts, a dozen, I gobbled 6 pieces in one sitting. I was trying to figure out what the fuss was about, why the lines were so long, and why it was reaping heaps of praises on newspapers that before I knew it, I had consumed half a dozen already. While my tolerance is seemingly higher I can't forever soak my teeth into them goodies cause they're way too sugary not just for donuts but for desserts in general. The price of these newcomers also racks high up there in the prohibitively expensive bracket. A piece of these high end donuts is thrice the cost of the now cheaper albeit smaller dunkin and mister donuts.

Like the proverbial prodigal son, I, at the end of the day, find myself back in the arms of what I have come to know as the TRUE DONUT. I fall back to the original to what I as a child knew as heavenly sweets and for the right reasons since they are shaped like Halos, not Hula Hoops but Halos. Krispy Kremes and Gonuts will always be there when I need to jack up my sugar intake but the standards, the trailblazers to which succeeding donuts will be measured upon: Dunkin and Mister have already etched a niche in my quick browse menu which is always there residing at the top of my head. True the latter has scrimped not just on the price but on the ingredients as well but

lost in Hong Kong

Johnnie Walker's catch phrase "keep walking", I don't actually quite get that. They are selling liquor and obviously walking is a clear reference to the character whose name probably is Johnnie whose image, inscribed on every liquor box they sell, pictures him wielding a cane but with a sure and confident stride it's beyond me what the cane is for. Perhaps an article to compelement to the elitist look which his top hat gave away? But what's the deal with KEEP? Keep walking? Is that a command or a gerund phrase?

One of the commercials that spawned from the keep walking campaign shows mermaids or mermans swimming swiftly from the ocean to the shallow waters of the beach and nearing the shore, the half-fish half-man creatures develop human legs which is perhaps their take on Charles Darwin's evolution theory and then the slogan KEEP WALKING is flashed on the screen. The liquor moguls are going philosophical on the consumers and in the process they make themselves look chic and pompous certifying themselves to be a must buy! KEEP WALKING sounds like a mantra imbibing a philosophy that suggests reaching your goals or it might be a clever spin of the JUST DO IT slogan of NIKE. Seriously, I think keep walking probably means just do it and go places like go where no man has gone before. I would probably need more than a shot of Johnnie Walker if I were to embrace the virtues I made out of that slogan.

I never was the travel bug. I've lived in the Metro all my life and the farthest I've gone to the north was a one time engagement that brought me to nueva ecija for a 5 day group study for the board exams. The farthest I've gone down south is at Lucena, also a one time thing that happened when we went road tripping from Los Banos Laguna up to where the road led us and it led us to Lucena. If I were a car, I probably would still be in mint condition cause my make period wouldn't do justice to my littlest mileage. But work has its perks and 3 years ago, I was assigned to go to our Factory in China to support a project. It was a long time coming but I was due. Traveling opportunities were aplenty and had I processed my passport earlier, traveling overseas would have much been earlier.

I was informed on a very short notice. In less than a week I hurriedly gathered everything i could possibly need, the essentials. Despite my being a first time traveler, I was scheduled for the day's last flight to hongkong. I was to board the plane 8 pm my eta was 2 hours after. Ive heard stories of how flying can be an unnerving experience and it didnt help that as a kid, i stayed away from high Gravity inducing carnival rides after a less than pleasant experience with the roller coaster.

In no time at all, I found myself at the airport sitting, looking at my reflection at the glass walls of the boarding area and waiting for the pretty lady to give us the cue to board the plane. There i was, a first time flyer bereft of the luxury to prepare set to travel at the dark of knight on top of that it was raining. I boarded the plane on the dot . I was seated a few rows from the main entrance which for an economy class is a premium location as it gets you closest to the exit. That's one consolation I could take solace from. If the plane accidentally crashes due to the inclement weather, somewhere along the south china sea I'll be bobbing and freezing but grateful to have exited first for which I owe our travel agent for the premium seat she had me given.

I was more concerned with what to expect at work than I was with the trip. Statistics was on my favor. Air travel disasters occur far less than does land based-travel. But what the stats don't tell but will knock the ----out of you: the chances of survival in an air disaster is close to nil. It's touch and go. How's that for my comfort level? I was seated at the aisle. I'd rather me sitting at the window though. Being a newbie, I would have really appreciated the sights at an altitude, even if it was dark.

I was always the one who would try to put a good front in situations where I am casted as the newbie. I would act and behave like a seasoned veteran in tight situations or places where as a newbie, it is wholly acceptable I fuck things up. But if I could act the part, I try to pass myself off as someone with smarts because I have this sneaky feeling that anywhere you go to there are opportunists, con artists to be exact, who would prey on the weaklings, the clueless. Such was my mentality throughout the trip since everything was new to me. It was my version of when in Rome, do as the Romans and I was actually excited to see how far my attempts at masquerading would take me

I could still vividly recall the feeling of amazement when I saw the Hong Kong skyline as the plane was descending. As the plane was about to touch the runway and I could clearly see the structures around the airport it finally kicked in that I was no longer at the confines of my home much more my country. It dawned to me that I was a stranger in a strange land. I who only had Nueva Ecija to show for as the farthest I had gone to up north was now about to find my way through Hong Kong relying only on sketchy instructions scribbled on paper which at best was crude. But I really had it that way. I could have sat longer with my officemate and asked some more questions, landmarks, or perhaps browsed the net on how to go about Hong Kong but instead, I stayed at the office a few hours past midnight preparing my materials for the factory support. The one thing that strengthened my resolve was that in the event i screw things up, I could always ask. If I had it my way I'd rather go about the whole trip with minimal assistance with my natural instincts guiding me through just so I could push to the limit how well I could adapt. But I am no fool to discount the power of asking for directions. When lost in Rome, ask the Romans.

I was able to pass myself off as OK for a first time flyer. I conscientiously followed the directions leading me to my exact seat. I availed of whatever my instincts told me was free. drink refills, newspaper, earphones, the disembarkation form. I went to the toilet for the heck of it. I just wanted to walk around the plane while it was slightly inclined but while at it, I figured, might as well try the toilet.

We arrived at HK airport 1030pm. I was a bit anxious realizing it was late and I had to wake up at around 6 am the next day or miss the lone ferry to China.I had no idea how far the airport was to my hotel. I followed the stream of people making their way from our plane to wherever they would go next. There was a huge amount of walking done from the plane up to the next stop which as I soon found out, the immigration area. Along the way were 3 walkalators. I tried the first two and purposely skipped the last one. I don't know how by skipping the last one I would appear to be a "been there done that guy" but I felt that way.

SARS was still a main concern during that time. HK was still picking up the pieces altogether after being one of SARS' hardest hit countries. But with SARS on the wane bird flu quickly supplanted the somewhat morbid need for disease scare news to fill up the broadsheets of HK and neighboring China. I wonder whatever happened to bird flu. It still is projected to potentially rival the worst plagues that have struck humanity but it has somehow gotten less and less newspaper and television time. Well we do hope that that is a good thing and we are all hoping that the projections will amount to nothing more than just that-projections. So having my hands full with both scares, you could just imagine the precaution I took to at least allay my fears. The worst that could happen is that you acquire the disease, you get home, virus takes its time to incubate then it kicks in. So nothing you do can fully disease proof you. The best you could do is really take utmost precautions. I brought with me the larger plastic bottle of alcohol which I guess amounted to a household's month's supply. I also bought a smaller one to use as dispenser for refills so I could easily put it in my pocket. The way I was looking at it doorknobs, handle bars, public interactions, everything but the kitchen sink would necessitate I bring with me quick alcohol every time-all the time. During that time airport security wasn't high on confiscating handcarried liquids which are potential bomb ingredients so even at the plane I had with me my trusted alcohol.

When the walking finally stopped, well cordoned lines finally greeted me. Each of the several cordoned lines led to an immigration officer and the cordon traversed like a maze which is a clever way to save on space not that they needed one since you could practically run a 100m dashful :> of immigration officers seated glumly at their stations poker faced and all. Like I said earlier, I prepared for the essentials. I never thought that ballpen would be an essential. I was so busy preparing for work stuffs and clothes and medicine that I forgot to bring with me a ballpen. However impressive HK airport is compared to the dimly lit and untidy looking old NAIA, I went from one disembarkation form station to another trying to use the parker-like ballpens securely fixed and..... inkless! I didn't know if I was in on a practical joke(as a victim) cause there were very few passengers who were using them or if it was a reminder of what a newbie I was not having brought a ballpen for immigration form filling up purposes. In NAIA I was able to use a panda ballpen which despite not fixed with a string sure was an inkful. I didn't think I would be struggling to find myself one in a grade A airport like HK's but I did. Luckily I found one after going thru a number of it. I took out my alcohol and splashed some on my palms as would be my practice the entire trip. Once I got past immigration and flew by customs since I've nothing to declare I soon was out in the open amongst the throng of people brandishing placards of Mr. Wong, Mr. Wei, and Mr Chinese. The welcoming chauffeurs were aplenty and my cynical mind was quick to remind me to be on guard for the "Supposed" con-artists on the prowl. An important pointer my officemate told me is that upon arrival I should exchange 100USD of my pocket money for 50% HKD and 50% RMB(Chinese money-Yuan). It has kinda become a template procedure for us travelers and I wasn't about to question its validity in my effort to acting the "seasoned traveler" bit.

The way to a man's heart

"Man is what he eats."
-----Ludwig Feerbach

I'm no Adonis or Fabio and my resume for passion certainly neither reads Eros nor Cupid(for the Romans)but one of my few remaining passions that can never be faulted is my passion for food. This poor lover makes up for it by being THE FOOD LOVER. I love to eat and in keeping with my reputation as not a connoisseur definitely, far from it, but a food authority, I've gone through different restos all over Metro to keep me updated with its tastes and flavors. Think Anthony Bourdain of Discovery travel and living minus the exotic food and on a smaller scale.....ahhhh....junk the Anthony Bourdain, he's in a different league but that dude's job surely is cool: Eat and travel, eat and travel, and never go fat!


Growing up, the money I spent for just about everything came from the meager allowance I got from my parents. I kept a bank account where I could see the littlest peso I saved out of my littlest allowance grow into something I could use in times of contingency. The bank teller never flipped through so much my passbook cause the entries never exceeded 2 pages over its entire financial lifetime. Needless to say, I didnt have enough money. Food out of the ordinary was a luxury to me. While my well to do classmates ate burgers for recess, I ate junk food. While a complete meal at Aling Zeny's meant sparing yourself from having to queue for a vegetable viand and rice, I would queue for that vegetable viand and rice. I learned how to budget at an early age partly to save but largely to see miss sexy teller more than just once every two months and with a little swagger warranted by a generous, as per my standard, 200 peso deposit.

Having just enough money to spend for the whole day at school, my earliest food trips were kinda scaled down to eating street food. I had to cut corners on the choice of food during breaks so as to afford the food trips after school. Fishballs, scrambles, poor man's snowcones, sago, gulaman, et.al. I've come across all these staples one time or another. But the one street food which merited all the starving-myself-saving fuss was what my highschool buddies and I had come to call as Bugoy. Boiled egg dipped in artificially colored orange flour and fried after, Bugoy, for a while, had its run as the object of our cheap palate's cravings. But Bugoy is actually a misnomer. Actually I forgot what it's really called but I am certain we got it all wrong when we called it Bugoy. Tokneneng, cooked and prepared similarly to, ok I will call it Bugoy for the meantime, Bugoy(there) uses quail eggs as opposed to chicken or duck eggs for Bugoys. At that time a bugoy would set you back by 2.75 Pesos. The jeep fare then was 1.50 Pesos. While it was still a cheap fare(the bugoy not the jeep fare), the price of one bugoy was almost your jeep fare to and fro school. Compare that to today's bugoy sold for 7 pesos and the jeep fare of 8 pesos(just one way) and you practically get a clear picture of how much the price of fuel has obscenely stratosphered to. The same mechanics apply in eating bugoy then as it is now: get yourself a plastic bowl, place your bugoy, pour some vinegar, add some rock salt and eat like the hepatitis seeking cheapskate that you are. I would gobble 3 bugoys in one sitting. I was young, my body could cushion all the saturated fats, cholesterol, sodium and watching over my health was the least of my concerns. Now, I can't imagine myself indulging into bugoys. My blood pressure level needs utmost pampering and I'm better off munching frozen vegetable stalks if I know what's good for me.

College didn't offer much budget buffering as I would have thought. My allowance simply increased in proportion with the transportation fare but the money I spent for food was just proportionate with the inflation rate. There wasn't any special math put into it. Overall, I was still in the same position as I was in highschool in other words, if I wanted anything more "foodwise" than just getting me through the day as my ample budget would allow, I would have to scrimp a little on lunch, or maybe a snack so I could afford an indulgent food trip. Overtime I learned how to stretch my budget. There are gems to be found on cheap food stalls and satiating the palate doesn't have to mean getting away from paying the bus fare(I don't do that!).
Inside the campus there was the humble kiosk where eating was SRO(standing room only). There was no dining table. You put your plate on the cement protrusion along the perimeter of the kiosk. Their specialty: palabok. The famed palabok's sauce was thick in consistency and it was a food coloring's haven. I may have scrimped on my budget but the chef sure didn't scrimp on throwing in a month's supply of food color to his special sauce. Despite that, palabok matched with caramel oozing turon was a surefire hit. For drinks, one had a wide array of coca-cola products on a vending machine to choose from. But the best drink was Hi-C washing over honeybees while being vended(?). I didn't know where the honeybees came from, there was no floral garden in sight but it made the drink perhaps tastier. Nobody was complaining cause the kiosktender was one touchy old lady and her explanation that the bees were clean delivered in an angry tone suppressed further attempts at complaining.

FUNNY

Not too long ago when technology was simpler and television was a mile high improvement over the humble radio as a source of entertainment, having one was all the rage. Colored TV was an upgrade, an option over the default Black and White. It wasn't unusual to have neigbors come over and watch TV programs at your home cause it wasn't imperative to buy one unlike now when TVs, while still coming second to radios, aren't really all that expensive of an entertainment medium for a household not to afford one. Of course, the influx of second hand Japanese electronic surpluses added to its affordability and, at the same time, headaches for those who were curious enough to buy one from such stores cause soon after they shelled out their precious dough they automatically signed themselves up for the repairs the possibility of which was not a matter of if but when. Comics added the third dimension from the so-called tri-media: television, radio, and print. Newspapers were appaling as opposed to appealing for any kid I must say. There weren't even colored photos in newspapers so back then, through my eyes, the only good that could come out of newspapers was when they were used as an outer wrapper for the kakanins pre-wrapped with banana leaves or when they were cone shaped as dispensers for the generic cheese curls.

Comics,the local version not by Marvel or DC-they were overly priced even their back issues, got me into reading at about the same time I entered pre-school. By the time I was in first grade, reading and comprehending was a breeze. I would recommend comics as a learning supplement to kids during their formative years cause the visuals would immediately help generate interest unlike the bland, illustration deprived books. Books minus visuals will help stimulate imagination and that is one of its selling point. I am willing to buy that but perhaps, maybe later cause initially, you would want to get the kids to WANT to learn first how to read and bland books might scare them away. And regarding the imagination thing, kids have to stock up first on their imagination bank or they've nothing to begin with. Comics with their color rich visuals generously offer loads full of vivid imaginative elements.


Funny Komiks published weekly got me into reading that by the time I was in elementary school reading MITHI books, the scarce illustration of the textbooks didn't stop me from associating visuals I would imaginatively put in the mix thanks to the stockpile I got from the Niknoks, Lola Potsays, Kakais, and the Bardagols from planet opdi eyps. Back then when Mom came home from from the palengke, my brother and I, after the Mano-Po gesture would immediately scour the bayong where the Funny Komiks was thrown in along with the vegetables,and meat,and the kakanins. I forgot when exactly it was issued but Mom bought it mostly on weekends although I could remember one time when she picked me up from school and she brought me a copy. There came also a point when Mom had to buy two copies just so my brother and I would not literally fight over who gets to read first. I remember feeling guilty for the money wasted in buying two copies cause putting things in perspective, it was just a matter of minutes, perhaps an hour, before the other got his turn. But stubborn kids forget "perspective" upon the sight of Funny komiks. Leave the perspective to the adults.

Funny Komiks is a collection of comic strips, not newspaper comic strip long, but 3 to four pages long per creator/illustrator. With that alone you get your money's worth cause there are about six or more regular comic strips per issue. It also has a reader's section where you can send in your letters and drawings and they publish it along with your name, address,and age. It was a child's brief introduction to the so called "15mins of fame". My brother got his letter published and we still keep the cutout in one of our photo albums. Funny Komiks helped me realise or develop(I don't know if I was born with it or if I learned my way through it) my talent in drawing. From elementary to highchool I was known as that student who knew how to draw and I was proud to trace my beginnings to the doodling of Funny Komiks characters.

Niknok was one of my favorite characters. A naughty kid who always figured into mischiefs sometimes deliberately sometimes by accident, Niknok was far from being a bad character since he would find ways to make amends. As a kid I remember me doing a skit from one of the Niknok issues which I would gladly regale my parents' guests with. What I would do was part mime, part explaining myself cause I wanted to make sure the guests were clearly following the skit especially on parts where I deemed the explanation was my best option when my limited miming skills wouldn't do justice to what I was trying to deliver.

Pinoy pride meets Celtic pride

Manny Pacquiao and the Celtics! I just saw on youtube Manny Pacquiao being smothered by 80% of the Boston Celtics' starting five plus Sam Cassel and Tony Allen. Pacman getting foreign media mileage is no longer big news since most Pinoy fans have already gone jaded hearing, seeing, listening Pacman news/stories churned out on a daily basis on the internet mostly over the course of his illustrious career which we Pinoys have been witness years earlier but which the world took notice only 5 years ago on that night when he gave the once deemed invincible Marco Antonio Barrera the worst beating of his equally glorious boxing career

Much like that eventful night of 2003 when Pacquiao announced his global entry official, I was awestruck and reminded once more, after years of having been dulled by the onslaught of Pac news forced right up our throats, that Pacquiao is indeed that big of a celebrity what with these NBA behemoths chanting Manny, Manny, while jumping in unison similar to what they do during their pre-game entrances. I am a huge basketball fan and I don't care so much about Pacquiao winning cause you can largely count that it will certainly happen but to see Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce, and Ray Allen-the big three-celebrating with Pacquiao, that is just totally amazing. I am starstruck. These NBA players are no mere patsies. They are future candidates for hall of fame and they were just recently crowned world champs. Man, that is just totally cool. The male Pinoy fans of Manny must have been equally, if not more thrilled seeing Manny with these accomplished players than they probably are with the outcome of the fight.

no title

When I started blogging just over a month ago, I was so depressed I needed an outlet to air my sentiments without having to wake up, at night when I mostly do my musings, whoever was left in my short list of friends-relatives listed in my address book. I am notoriously short of friends and at that time, I was fresh out of one(see the first few posts) so I thought to myself I had better be careful not to slight anyone anymore lest I totally slip to the very real possibility/threat of me becoming a hermit. It is just there dangling around the corner and should I go totally awry, I am in danger of eternal hermit-damnation. I have the internet at my disposal thanks to PLDT's plan 990 and when deep reflections didn't anymore address the overwhelming sadness I took to the world wide web and thus began my foray into the world of blogging. Back then I was so eager blogging cause the prevailing gloom allowed me to write free flowing-ly. In those long lonely sleepless nights I just open my computer and I just type away whatever was at the top of my head. I was finding facility in writing like I've never had before and I thought I could do it on an almost daily basis; not a dent to my normal schedule and me ending up all the more relieved having blogged so :>!.

One post every other day was my target. It seemed easy and since I spend around 1.75hours(one way) on the commute, I thought Id be able to spend travel time writing a draft on my qwerty keyboard smartphone. Bullish, you could call me bullish back then. But soon after, when I was slowly coming to terms with my failed relationship so did my knack for free flowing writing go away. When the blog topics drifted away from anything that bordered around the doomed relationship, my ideas and the words that I used to describe it came rather in trickles and not in bunches that I was so initially spoiled with. Now, not only do I find myself staring hard and long at the blogger dashboard, sometimes, my mind wanders to some miscellaneous interest, and since I am online 90% of the time when I blog, I end up just browsing for that distraction. I know my blogs aren't supposed to be novel-long. Novice bloggers tend to overdo the broth it ends up being spoiled even when there's only one cook(there I go bastardizing the age old saying) and sure I'm one of them novices but I've gone so used to writing term paper journals dating way back ago that it has kinda stuck.

I am also so busy with work that I keep harping to anyone and everyone who will listen that 24hours a day just won't do. Strange fellow I am they perhaps say. Time management.... I should spend some time to think about that :> and not whine like I were the only person who'd like to squeeze some more hours from our hexagesimal clock system we've only the Babylonians to blame(count that as a whine).

why-pay?

With laptops becoming the next big electronic purchase among the gadget-conscious Pinoys, lately, there has been a rising trend of electronic stores investing on selling these portable computers with the hopes of cashing in on this market segment which only a couple of years ago was deemed to share only a small slice of the huge electronic consumer pie. Mobile Phones still have the stranglehold on the top spot but the steep price of its high end models is slowly bridging the "which should I buy gadget?" gap which once was the bane of laptop computer sales. Thanks in no small amount to the upsurge of LCD TVs that the price of manufacturing of these same LCDs used by laptops has gone down steadily hence making laptops more affordable to the spendthrift consumer


Multimedia and the internet are the major driving forces that dictate how the mobile phone's functionality is designed. Whereas before phones were just intended for voice communication, today, the vast multimedia content of the internet screams " You have to see and hear me " that ultimately you have to have 'em at the palm of your hand and which better device to pack all these up than your trusted 5110-now in steroids! Mobile phones have undergone severe mutations all of which took only a few years that the early buyers of the 51 and the 3210s must be up in arms yelling injustice they could very well merge with the dwindling Pepsi 249 movement to make a stronger case for consumer protection against the so called scheming "evil" enterprises.

Internet, audio-video player, calendar, word processing and a host of third party apps ably supported by your choice of operating system have become basic functions of the high end phones. Not to diminish the original intent of voice communication but the gamut of computer functions has rendered some mobile phones as being more of a computer. One in five persons would inevitably stop and think " Why settle for half baked computer functionality when you could very well have em in full yet still mobile?" Enter the laptop. Having waited in the wings for too long after it had been earlier regarded as "for business executives only", the new generation of cheaper laptops have given mobile phones a run for its money. ASUS, ACER, MSI, NEO-all cheap laptop brands getting the nods of the budget conscious buyers. Thanks to these brands, associating laptops exclusively to the filthy rich no longer holds wholly true. Professionals and students are the consumer groups that largely constitute the laptop buying public and the proliferation of Wi-fi hotspots, pioneered by coffeshops, not only have made laptop use in public places commonplace but it has also tickled these people's interest of wanting to be part of this novel synergy between technology and extravagant indulgence.

I like the idea of using my laptop in a coffee place or anywhere there is Wi-Fi. I'm not after being seen brandishing my laptop in between sipping fraps cause while I am entirely sold to the idea(laptop use in coffee places..and not the bragging!) I can count by the fingers of my hands how many times I've just done so......six! Six times and I've had my laptop for more than 2 years already.

I'd like to think of myself as being a techie but the watered down version cause the extent of my techie-ness is dictated only by my needs and interests(read:limited). I'm fascinated by wireless networking, internet in particular and this is what drives my enthusiasm to want to try laptop in public places(must have Wi-fi). Sadly, wi-fi use is not entirely free. More often than not, the wi-fi spots you'll scan are secured networks meaning you've to pay to get the username and the password prior to accessing. I project that pretty soon though, these establishments will give in and offer the wi-fi services free of charge. Two famous burger joints are paving the way towards this direction. Burger King and Mcdonald's have a number of branches offering free wi-fi. They haven't gone all out yet to promote it, perhaps they are still testing the waters, but while the dividends of increased patronage may not yet be apparent, when they completely promote themselves as wi-fi free areas I do hope that it sets a precedence for others to follow suit.

Tear down the walls of greed and monopoly. It's time to stand our ground. We have bore the brunt of VATs, and hidden charges, and service charges, and community tax charges for way too long. Let our voices be heard. "I am cheap", why pay for wi-fi?! I spent my week's savings for your fancy coffee! Other than nutmeg, and milk, and water I want my wi-fi and I want it free(can we have it now?)!

Ortigas-stays shunned!(2x)

A year before the changing of the guard, then President Fidel Ramos was a happy figure smiling for photo-ops during the groundbreaking ceremony of the massive railway transport stretched along EDSA which has since become a byword among commuters as the MRT. The year was 1997 and the Malacanang incumbent had made sure that before he left office, the ambitious MRT project would stick to his legacy like velcro. Infrastructures, the number of it, still stands as a good yardstick in measuring how effective a President has been during his/her tenure. So much for the scandals and allegations of corruption because, over the years, we Filipinos have developed a slightly flawed perception that all Presidents are corrupt one way or another and distinguishing between the hero and the heel is just a matter of whether their hands are caught inside the cookie jar or not. The ones who are foolish enough to get caught redhanded are bad presidents while the ones who are wily enough to sidestep the peering eyes of the public can simply go about and up their legacy by peppering both the Metro and the provinces with infrastructures!
We still are suckers for infrastructures. As a third world country, poverty and hunger alleviation should come out as tops in priorities but anytime a massive collosal bridge or a long stretch of cemented road is ribbon cut and presented to the public, we quickly forget how many grumbling stomachs who will never traverse the mighty bridge or the smooth cemented road are still out there hoping to at least get by the day with more than just a single meal. Breakfast,lunch, and dinner are never intended to share a single time spot.

Which brings me back to the MRT!:>! Will somebody knock some senses to their engineering guys or whoever is responsible for the clever layout of the number of entrances and exits per station?! Ortigas Center is Mandaluyong's version of Makati's Central Business District(CBD)and the humanity that the MRT transports to Ortigas are being taken for fools every morning rush-hour for the past 4 years(could be more, time is referenced from when I started to take this route)by being provided with only 2, yes, 2 exits while the entrance has 3. Ortigas Center is largely a business district not a residential area! How many people do the MRT logistics think tanks project to use the 3 entrances during the course of the day? People coming from all over the Metro who are working in Ortigas choose the MRT to save them precious time(during the morning i must stress) they'd otherwise milk away in Edsa by bus. It is a no brainer that traffic of people exiting is greater than people entering. If it's a joke that we're provided only with 2 exits, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that the leftmost exit goes busted every so often leaving us with only one, I would have to say: " Everyday of the past 4 years is not April Fools'!!"


The paying passengers never duped nor vandalised the MRT, why should they be accorded the equivalent of the hypothesized offense? Good thing they have a text based hotline to air their grumblings. Using any of the local mobile service providers, just text your comments to 2950-tantamount to dialing 1-800-TALK-2-NO-1!

Pop! goes my heart

Today is father's day. Haven't greeted my dad yet but in about 30 mins I will cause we are supposed to have dinner in one of the nearby malls. Dinner, yeah you could very well figure that the day is close to being over, it's 6 o clock now yet I haven't come to face to face with my Pops yet. Anyway before dinner I will.

Pops and I didnt actually develop the father and son bond the kind you will actually see(a lot of em) in pictures should you gloss over today's special father's day magazine issues. Some fathers are close to their sons and it's well and good I've no problems with that but ufortunately, I couldn't identify myself as belonging to that group. Dont get me wrong, it's not like any of us is seething with anger or harboring ill feelings towards each other it's just that we weren't able to tread that path where Sundays would be fishing, camping , hiking days between father and son.

I love my Pops. Never did he ignore his role as a provider, as a disciplinarian, as a stern and unwavering face of the family name. He is well respected here in the village and a likeable person. He comes across as a good leader. He may not be the president of the homeowners association but effectively he is. He cares so much for the welfare of the people in our little village he earns everybody's respect. He would often find himself representing our village in the City Hall not cause he was assigned to but it was borne out of the genuine concern towards the people. The telephone landline system was put up here cause Pops found ways. For more than 20 years, no telephone company was able to lay any groundwork for a landline system because of routing issues. Apparently, we needed to pay a certain individual a huge sum of money so that the telcos could use his lot as a conduit to the already established landline backbone. The cost was too prohibitive that nobody shelled out any money. Pops pursued and cooperated with the telco to find another backbone from where we could tap on without having to go through Mr. Lots a lot. Now people here are enjoying the benefits of the internet-landline based.


Pops is the 4th child out of 11. His siblings look upon him as the father figure they sorely missed when their dad, my grandpa, passed away. That says a lot him being the 4th eldest. Pops provides good advices and it is not difficult to believe in what he says cause he has something to show for it. Some people give out advices they've read in self help books and mouth it like a dictaphone. Pops advices are products of his experiences and he comes clean so credibility is not a lingering question to those who will heed it.

Pops and I rarely talk. When I see people asking him for advice, I go dumbfounded. Here is my dad sought after by people remotely related to him by blood, they look up to him, respect him yet here I am, his son, not recognizing this side of him, his value. Pops is a treasure chest of ideas. He may be 67 but he is loadsfull of information both old and contemporary.

He is up to date with general information and he is not afraid using the latest technology. While some people his age will veer away from the thought of using computers and celphones, Pops is agreeable to figuring them out however long it might take. Pops refuse to think that people his age are better off relaxing, resting in a hammock, and sipping some tropical fruit juice. He wont have any of that. He tends our little store all day long so he could chat with people, some of em the ruly(as opposed to the unruly) drunkards, as his way of keeping the boredom from setting in. In the few instances where I snooped in to hear what he was saying, Pops would regale those who would listen, stories of places and people he had gone to/met back when he was working overseas. Pops' delivery is such that he comes out as the knowledgeable one, the authority, and the listener; only too happy to listen to what Pops has too say. It kinda makes you look inferior when you listen in but not in a derogatory kind of way. I guess in so doing, Pops has impressed upon others that he aint a pushover. Intellect can command respect and Pops sure has covered all bases inasfar as letting other people know he has smarts.

It's been almost 10 years since Pops' stroke rendered the left side of his body almost immobile. Pops would walk with a staggering gait, his right side dragging his numb left leg with each step. Though we are thankful he did not go bedridden, it still is a pain to watch my once strong Pops move about rather wobbly. It's so much more about the way he walks than it is about how his present physical state might have affected his resolve that somehow, as his child, disturbs me. Pops won't show resignation over his physical condition. To him it is business as usual. He won't let himself be a burden to us. He opts to be productive and he is doing a fine good job at that. Everyday he would walk a good 2km as his exercise probably in the hopes he will get his old self back or perhaps as a sort of maintenance cause he would sometimes complain that sitting still further creates a numbing effect on the left side of his body. Pops would always exercise his left arm and move it sideways in a circular motion. He has this contraption, a pulley, a handle, and a rope which he would use to pull his left arm then his right alternately as per the advice of the physical therapist.

We just came home from dinner. I treated the family to Chowking. I asked Pops to choose wherever he wants to eat but as always, he picked Chowking. Spicy Chow Fan is heaven, couple that with Spicy Beef wanton noodles and......heaven twice over. It doesn't take a lot to bring a smile to Pop's face. He's always been the humble Batangueno who early on in life took the responsibility as the Father/brother/guardian to his siblings. I'm proud of my Pops. Happy Father's day Pops. Happy Father's day to all!

walk this way

Emotions can run high or drop low. When it goes through cyclic peaks and troughs candies are the quickest way to subdue the fluctuations. Chocolate bars offer the much needed endorphins to suppress the down, empty, alone feeling one way or it can add up to an already positive state by jacking up the endorphin supply thereby prolonging the good feeling the other way. Candies, however, bring along with it sugar, and saturated fats(when derived from chocolates), and sometimes caffeine that overall, you are better off not having to eat these health hazards wrapped and prepared in tiny colorful packages hiding under the harmless guise of goodies and sweets.

Exercise is also a good way to get endorphins. Unlike candies, here you don't ingest the source rather you excite it with physical activity to get your body to produce the feel good hormones. I prefer walking to get my needed high. I was actually unaware that it had that effect cause I walked mostly to meditate and reflect. After every long walk I end up feeling calmed(if I started out agitated) or feeling better, energised(if I started out already in a good mood). I walk with an initial destination in mind but with the realisation that I can end up anywhere my walking leads me.

Father taught us the value of walking. The original idea was to save on money and exercise as well; hitting two birds with one stone he said. By opting to walk than to ride public transport we'd end up being richer both in wallet and in health&spirit. Our house is located a good 1km(thanks to the ruler function of google earth) from the major road outside so we'll have to do a significant deal of walking should we choose to. 1km is relative. For kids it may be asking too much but for a full grown adult, 1km is a breeze without having to expend too much energy cause their strides are longer and the number of steps, fewer.

I logged my first long walk when I was 10. It was a Saturday but a few of us went to school for a study group that never did pan out. Kudos to our teacher for the noble idea but taking away a child's precious Saturday for study was an ingredient to futility. I was already commuting to school so I'd no guardian with me. Russer, one of my classmates, was accompanied by his father. According to his old man, there was a public transport strike that hour so on the way home, we decided to walk instead of waiting, hoping to catch a few rogue drivers who might have somehow chosen not to cooperate with the strike. It was noon, the sun was scorching hot but Russer's father's smart storytelling amused us that before we knew it, we're already a few blocks from our houses. As per google earth that was 6km.

I took pride for that long walk. For children my age, that was a rare feat. It still pales in comparison to what my old man went thru as a child. He had to walk everday to and fro school and I saw for myself how far that was when I went to the place he grew up in. Nowadays it seems that much like how the average height increases with succeeding generations so does the pampering derived by the children, whose parents went thru difficult times, go. Life's difficulties and challenges are diminished with succeeding generations as the parents who experienced them strive to keep their children from experiencing the same.

It was the first of many long walks. Over the years, I would try to at least log one major walk per annum as a record of sorts. Walking huge distances was by choice. Somehow it bordered on absurdity but hey, it's me. It's my thing. While not truly a nature walk, walking somehow connects me to the world, albeit the urbanised kind. By walking I am reminded how vulnerable men are. Had ants been men we would have been eating dust lagging behind their trail. Ants? How did ants figure in all these musings? Funnny but usually I just pick the direction but never do I set a limit how far I will walk. And when I think I've already gone far, that will just rev up me up some more but when I look to the horizon to see how far I can still go, it gets me thinking how men minus their machines are but a speck from the overwhelming wide expanse of nature and its goings-on.

I usually walk along the road and it exposes me to harm's way cause there's no telling when a wayward vehicle would suddenly pop from nowhere and pop the life out of me. So I follow the old adage " walk against the traffic" which incidentally I heard first from Russer's pop, and yes, heard first during the famed first long walk. I see how poor the state of most people are as I pass by the shanties along the way. Seeing them while on a vehicle you don't experience the sights and sounds. Walking gets you up close and that makes all the difference. Walking allows me the chance to appreciate the rapid urban development and at the same time, get nostalgic, somehow sad, over how bricks and cements have suddenly supplanted the once lush greens that used to be there. I guess that's why men, unlike ants, are made less mobile. Our sense of appreciation will have been taken away in exchange for mobility. I don't want to be spending the monotonous life of an ant which is practically centered on: protect the queen, and work! Men had to be slow to further appreciate life. Slow and easy that's how it's supposed to go.

When I was in college, two of my college buddies Paolo and Marnie who were also my highschool classmates from school, went to Bicutan to attend the debut of our friend's sister. As luck would have it, a thunderstorm came. We took a jeep from Pasay and passing by Magallanes, lightning was darting everywhere. It was one of the few occassions when you could actually smell that the weather ain't gonna be good. You can smell it across the air. Celphone was but a luxury, so you guessed it, we didn't have any. There was no way of contacting Paz(the one with the sister) so while the continuous heavy downpour would have called all events that afternoon quits, until we saw and confirmed for ourselves, the debut party was still on. Traffic suddenly became heavy. Our jeep inched through the flooded roads and inside, we were like refugees being transferred to another resettlement camp. We braved the storm until we reached lower Bicutan. That area is a lowland. The flood coming from higher grounds was streaming like mad. Lightning was all over and the accompanying thunder will scare the wits out of you, it was 7 pm, we didnt have any jackets or umbrellas, and we were soaking wet even our notebooks were already left for waste. Nobody dared mutter what was obviously dawning to us as a bad idea. We should have called it quits earlier but us were a tight knit group that it would be a letdown for Paz if we couldnt be there. We couldnt move from where we got off. The flooding was halfway up my shin and as more and more people

I love this game

Basketball. I like to play basketball. I am at an age where my not being an athlete will slow me down earlier than I normally would have wanted it to. Athletes can play well up to their late 30s. Normal individuals can play well late into their 20s. You can account the 10 year difference with lifestyle and training.

I started to play basketball when I was in fifth grade. I was always the tallest guy in class but basketball never did interest me until I realised that everyone was playing or at least involved in it one way or another. The non players made up for it with basketball knowledge. They watched the games and recapped to the class what they saw on TV. Equipped with wit and the gift of gab, these guys could deliver major convincing especially to those who weren't too critical to identify they were being taken for a ride. This mini spectacle is proof that you never have to be an actual practitioner to get some people to thinking you are the real deal. It advocates "Those who can do, those who can't teach"(or in this case, tell stories) Whatever happened to these grandstanders? They probably are managers in their respective professions already. Just like what they say " school starts em out young ".

I learned the rudiments first. I was bookish back then. I knew the length of the court, how far the FT line is, the length of the baseline, the height of the ring. I would do Sir James Naismith proud knowing its history. A Canadian who promoted the game in America, Naismith made the game officially American in origin. I knew all of these but I would dribble the ball awkwardly. I would throw airballs and I would gasp for breath just trying to make a single basket. I knew basketball by text but I couldn't play the game even if my life depended on it.

When the renovation of our house was close to being finished, my parents had the carpenters build a basketball court from the scrap wood. Not really a makeshift court, mine had all the makings of a decent one-the kind you would see in the public playgrounds and it didn't hurt that we had a wide garage where I could play. I learned to develop my shooting skills. Playing alone, you can't really expect to simulate what happens in real world situations. So while I shot the ball well from the outside, I realised later in actual gameplay that I sucked driving inside the paint trying to convert a basket. Count that as another life lesson intertwined with sports. Simulation can only take you so far. To get a good feel of the real thing, you have to immerse yourself. You have to get your feet wet.


As much as I liked to play, I did so only by myself. There were no immediate neigbors who I could go up against with. My brother wasn't into sports. Only occassionally would I play amongst a group. In highschool I never was a part of any team. I would play on P.E. and at best, I would show flashes of brilliance but I was very raw. You could pull me out of the throng of people and ask me to play and I would and I wouldn't disappoint, but only in the first few minutes after that, for the long haul I sure would suck.

Basketball was tougher in college. Manila was the melting pot of people from all places. Whereas before I was the tallest guy in class, in college I was like the 4th tallest. That was just within our section. Outside the premises of our room, you could call me slightly above average. The best players converged at the open area parking lot which oddly had the makings of New York's rucker park. The best players outside varsity were there. The parking lot regulars, while not playing for the school were not necessarily short in talent. Heck, I could name 3-5 guys there who could have easily made varsity but opted not to , perhaps, by choice. Our school qualifies as a springboard for basketball fame but we take pride more with our studies. Playing at the parking lot was not for the weak of heart. The rules......there were no rules. Call a foul and it will be tightly contested. You have to make a clear case in a loud voice or the scorching heat will simply evaporate your whinings, never to be heard.

There was one occassion where while I was watching from the sidelines, our gay P.E. teacher called me out to play with the regulars cause play was interrupted. Apparently one player had to beg off in time for class and they were a player short to complete the ten. That wasn't even a PE class. It just happened that our teacher was around, maybe checking out the studs, and I was the random guy plucked out to play.

It didn't help that I knew no one. I could have been anyone from your Tom, Dick, and Harry and I didn't even know why I agreed to play. Perhaps, basketball is such a masculine sport that begging off will be a hit to my machismo. My heart pounded as I approached the court which didn't have any standard lines to establish the boundaries. So long as you wouldn't be treading too far, you were within the confines. I didn't take off my shirt as was the habit of most players cause I wouldn't be scaring anyone with my reed thin frame.

I was just a substitute which meant ball was already in play prior to my coming in. The group which I filled in for simply murmured and pointed amongst themselves to help me identify the teammates. I didn't want to keep the standstill so I signaled for play to continue even if I could only remember by face, two of the four teammates.

Just like how a rookie would try to convince how good he is given his little playing time, so did I go immediately to work once I got the ball. I didn't care so much as to pass. I took the ball straight to the hoop every chance I could. Again, as per my routine, few flashes of brilliance here and there for the first few minutes and after some time, on cue, I gasped for breath and then downhill it went. I got blocked two times. I suffered from rookie jitters as I predictably would shoot whenever I got the ball. Overtime, I became a sitting duck just out there to complete the ten. I didn't get anymore passes cause who would want to give the ball to Mr.Trigger Happy? If ever I did get a defensive rebound, the pointguard would approach me and ask for the ball. At least I got my feet wet. The 3 baskets I made, which were part of my template moves, did draw some oooohhs and ahhhhhhs. It was a fleeting moment but I should have learned to exit while I was at my best. Overall I think I did OK for a filler.

Once again I reprised my role as the diamond in the rough. But this diamond has been in the rough for too long one can only surmise when it will be polished.

flux capacitor

Back in the day when the technology we have now was still in its infancy, we got our first movie player, a betamax, as a gift from our uncle who at that time was single and would rarely be in the country within a year's time. Seeing how wide-eyed we were watching JAWS in his apartment, he probably thought it best to just give us the player since no one's gonna be using it anyway when he goes overseas.

We couldn't contain our excitement, my brother and I, when we found out that we're gonna be having the betamax. Our parents always thought of these stuffs as luxury and were very adamant on not giving in to our whims. First thing I did when we got the player was apply for a membership in the local betamax rental shop located within the flea market up town. If you look at it, the video regulatory board was as helpless then as they are now. All the betamax rental shops offered bootleg movies VCR copied and they were peddling it(for rent) out in the open. Go inside one and you'll be overwhelmed by the stack of tapes white stickered and pentel-penned with the title of the movie. There were no original box casings, just the generic ones and the only hint you'll get of what the movie is about, you'll hear from the shopkeeper. His guarantee and bias is all that stands between your precious 5 bucks and the movie being a bust. You've to either trust him or trust your gut feel whose credence is supported only by the scribbled title coupled with your imagination. If you're a clueless kid running the errand of renting the weekend's movie and you come across PRINCESS BRIDE, you would just have to take the shopkeepers word for it or dismiss it as one of the X-RATED movies which got mixed up with the GPs.

I guess my being an Obsessive Compulsive consumer manifested itself early. I will spend a good 1 hour scanning the titles of stack upon stack of betamax tapes before I choose what to rent. 50 percent of the time I will take the shopkeeper's word if I end up in a quandary while other 50 is the product of my deduction method. Mostly I end up renting sci fi movies. Sci fi was as big then as it is now. Everyone marvels at the special effects especially us kids. Special effects was the order of the day back then.

Back to the future was one such movie. Here a young Michael J Fox stars as teenager Marty Mcfly who teams up with Christopher Lloyd as Dr Brown-the scientist who invented the De Lorean time machine. Time travel was the basic plot and back to the future was a line uttered by Dr Brown at the end of the movie to hint the sequel.

In the movie, flux capacitor was the device used to make time travel possible. To the uninitiated it sounded as a credible scientific crap :> but as I soon learned in school it was just a weird word play of capacitor and inductor. Perhaps the one who coined the term was pressed for time and simply played around the terms offshooting from inductor and he came across flux. Flux and capacitor make for a neat mix perhaps.


The movie put in vivid detail one of my deepest rooted fantasies-time travel. On top of flying and reading other person's mind(I watched too much superman as a kid), time travel caught my fancy. I knew about H.G. Well's Time Machine as a children adaptation book not the real novel, but Marty Mcfly brought to life everything I had pictured of what time travel would be.

There've been many theories presented how time travel can become a possibility. Each of them suggests that there has to be this energy source powerful enough to blast you off through time and reconstruct you back in that other dimension. Scientists are just beginning to scratch the surface of Einstein's theory of relativity as the most plausible basis for time travel. Well, with the environment problems and the rising fuel prices now, time travel will have to take a backseat over these pressing issues.

The idea that you could travel back in time or ahead to the future has to be up there on the list of the " TOP 10 future possibilites you want to happen now ". Time travel goes two ways: past or future. Given these two paths I am partial with the past as I figure future will be ugly knowing how population plus the way we abuse our environment are a catastrophic mix.

Past gives you a chance to recover back events that turned out for the worse resulting from the wrong decisions or circumstances. How I sometimes wish that I be given the chance to redo the events that unfortunately took the wrong turn! I ain't asking for all, just a few. How I wish I could turn back time to the good ol' days when Bibe and I were positively looking towards the future, when we were planning ahead how we will go by and brace ourselves for the life ahead, together. That was big for me cause it signaled a new era. How I soon will be settling and shaping my own future with a lifelong partner was barely within reach. She was amenable and so was I. Our intimate discussions gave me a sneak peek- it painted a picture- of how the future will be like. It was different, it was new, it was big and I liked it. All my life spending in solitary, making few associations, living like a modern day hermit minus the beard and the staff; all these I was somehow about to turn my back away from and I was actually gladly welcoming that prospect.

But I came up short in my effort to keep the intimacy flame burning. The candle burned to the last wicker and just like that Bibe was gone. I wish the Delorean was parked just right outside the garage, I'll hop on to it, rev the engine, fire up the flux capacitor and back to the past I will go.

To keep Bibe, to keep what we once had, to guarantee that we stick to our future hopes and aspirations, to never waver and to focus on the road ahead, these are the things I would risk my life and limb for to go back to the past... to keep Bibe. Given the chance, I would do so much in my power to ensure these things stay its intended course just as we once planned.

But unlike Microsoft Office applications, life don't come with an UNDO or backspace keys. It would be good if it did but you never really get things done when you have the option to revert. Mistakes happen and they serve as wake-up calls. Mistakes are there like an anvil and hammer to mold and draw you to be sharper and stronger to face the challenges life will offer ahead.


It sucked that Bibe had to be my anvil and hammer pair. How I wish Bibe didn't have to be that person who I will be grateful for years later when I look back at my past. I wish Bibe didnt have to be that character who as a graybeard, I will gladly tell anyone who will listen, as being the person who helped me to be the man I will have become then. I wish Bibe didn't have to take that role. Someone else could have assumed that part but it sucks that as it looks now, it had to be Bibe. Bibe is everything who I had longed for and everything who I wanted to be spending the twilight of my life with. Before knowing her, I had built into my mind the kind of woman I wanted to spend my future with and was I glad that when she came, she fit that description to a T. Bibe was that very person to the tiniest sinews. It sucks that the woman I had long waited for was given to me and yet I wasn't able to keep her. Some people go thru their lifetime waiting but not getting the chance to be with their ideal partner and just settling for the next best. Here was I with all that chance in the world and all I needed was keep her. She was within reach and it sucked that I couldn't cling on to the rope that binded us together despite seeing it being drawn to its last strands. I just wish that when the story of my life is down to its last pages, time will have carried me through the chapter of when Bibe was there.

buses and taxis

I'm a night person, I get most things done during nighttime when there are very few distractions. Lately I've been easily distracted. I have to listen to mp3s while working to block off the ambient noise which basically constitutes small workgroup discussions, people singing, jokes, miscellaneous non-work related discussions, etc.

Work is done as a team and the set-up is such that we dont have dedicated cubicles. Our team is holed up in this one large area perimeter bounded by office dividers made up of the same materials used to make individual cubicles. I've no qualms about this set-up since I think it best promotes the team environment where the physical boundaries are shed to the bare minimum. Only the boss has his own cubicle which is also within our group's premises.

So while it supports working as a team, there will be instances where the lack of boundaries won't shield you from the separate smaller scale activities, discussions, small talk, which you are not part of but which, if you cant zero in on what you are doing, your focus will be drawn into. They are like black hole patches whose gravity pulls me in.

That's why I mostly get things done at night and as such I also leave the office late. I've my own set of standards regarding working at late hours. If I feel that the work I rendered at the morning was compromised because of the distractions I don't file OT.


I leave office usually past 10pm. Often around the 11pm-12:30am period. At this time when there are few public transport options available I've no choice but to ride a taxi up to where I could drop off to ride a bus. Taxis aren't cheap and taxis aren't neccessarily the safest mode of transpo especially if you are a woman. There've been a fair share of taxi horror stories but at this ungodly hour, you're better off riding the taxi despite the cons I just mentioned. It's like choosing the lesser evil. Besides, I'm this huge chunk of a man with a deep bass voice delivering in a no nonsense tone that the few bad egg drivers would be wise enough to regard me as the last person they would try to mess around with. While I am not entirely pinning my safety hopes on this shock/intimidate factor it is actually one thing that I welcome I have thanks to genetics. Most of the time you win the war just by being there. Ask the US military. The war best won is the one where you wont have to use any weapons.

Taxi travel depends on where I decide to drop off. So long as i'm on this major avenue where the buses ply their route I am ok. But when it is this late, when there are very few buses, I try to cover the entire stretch of the avenue up to where I can find the last remaining buses which are concentrated usually at the last pick up point prior to going to the freeway.

When my spider sense tells me that the taxi driver aint really one of them few bad eggs(let me belabor the FEW part), I talk to them. Talking does two things really
1. It keeps the driver awake. 11pm, these drivers arent really the most alert person you will find.

2. I've still this sneaky feeling that some taxi meters are rigged and that the drivers go from rigged to unrigged at a push of a button. If they see you as the "to be rigged" kind, then prepare for some pocket burning. If you earn their good will, they may not push that button........kidding, it's a joke. There aint any buttons but there are tampered taxi meters.

I just talk to the driver to while away my time and to get a feel of how they are belonging to this segment of society. There are lessons you could learn from them that you won't hear from the academe. They got it from the school of hard knocks.

starblogs coffee

One of my blog entries here, I made at a coffeeshop. Coffee shops have sprouted like mushrooms all over the metro you be hard pressed not to see one within a 4km radius. Yeah, that's the magic number-4km. If the local government won't put a lid on the rate coffeeshops are granted business permits pretty soon we'll be developing a generation of caffeinated individuals. Coffee will by then come second to rice as our dining table staple(ryhme not intended). Seems like everywhere you go you'll be able to catch your friendly neighborhood barista smiling and calling out names in much better pronounciation than even those who bear it intended it to be. Count on the barista to remind me that I was putting too much teeth grind in pronouncing the second syllable of my name.

A frap can't possibly cost that much(yes Starbucks, I gave me away) even with the soaring fuel prices but it does. To say that Starbucks is making a killing is an understatement. A massacre is more like it and consumer gullibility is the willing victim. Starbucks don't sell coffee, why, if you look at it, coffee is merely a front to the nothing that starbucks is raking all its revenues from. I went there cause the place will tolerate my loitering for a glass of frap. It doesn't have to be a venti, you can even buy the cheapest one or maybe a cookie, not neccessarily a drink, just anything that will serve as your ticket to loiter so you'll have something to show for once the friendly barista sweeps in whenever he would scour the dining area.

I bought me a venti frap. Mocha. Got to have my chocolate. I never really got the hang of all the doodling across the menu. I'm not a coffee person. I couldn't tell an espresso from freshly brewed. Cafe au lait, is it Ole?. To me if they smell the same, they are the same. Fraps give me some freedom to move around since it momentarily provides a disconnect from the real coffee that starbucks serve. Fraps are like dessert drinks and they don't scream coffee even if they are mixed with one. You just say Mocha, Caramel, Choco Chip. See how customer friendly these little money milkers sound like? If I were totally clueless I would think I was being offered cookies.

Another reason why I went to a coffeehouse is that, remember how I said starbucks is practically selling nothing and coffee is a mere front, well, I went there to write me a blog and starbucks offers free electricity to plug-in my laptop should my battery run out. Starbucks also offers security since you be a complete fool using your laptop just about anywhere outside. Also, wi-fi is offered at starbucks courtesy of globe(a mobile provider). So see how selling nothing still rings true? Wi-fi, not from them. Electricity, not from them. Coffee, still, I will refer to it as a front. They are charging me 5 times the actual price of coffee for crying out loud! How can they claim that they are a true coffeeshop with those exorbitant prices! Coffee shop....not!

Indiana Jones and the skull thing

I was able to catch at the cinema Dr.Jones and the crystal skull thing. These days movies incorporating CGIs come out a dime a dozen. It would be interesting how the latest Indy embraces the latest cinema technologies knowing that the last installment was made when green screens and CGIs were totally unheard of.


Indy has become a cultural icon with most of the fans already in their late 20s-40s. As a kid, I took a particular liking for the Temple of Doom because we had it on Betamax. It was a movie I would watch over and over without losing my zeal for the kind of action only Indy could provide. Less horror more comedy, never dampers yet still retains the hold on-to-your seat viewing experience especially everytime you hear the accompanying ten-tenen-ten ten-tenen! You just know you're in for some frenetic action once that musical score plays.

While the use of technology was carefully woven since an overdose will likely turn away majority of the cult following given that their previous Indys never benefitted from CGIs, the ending(spoiler alert) was a downer. Indy plots were based on half facts/folklore plus half Lucas-Spielberg cinema genius but this one pushed the envelope towards craziness. Indy, the archaeologist, at the end unravelled aliens. Yes aliens! A slight reference to el dorado(documented folklore) and that's all the reality the fact junkie will ever get. The rest bordered on downright sci-fi. They may have initially tried to scrimp on the CGIs in their effort to preserve the old-school Indy but towards the latter part, there was CGI galore. CGIs were shooting wildly across the room. It did not help that the ending took whatever remains of the fans' loyalty when they showcased a scene where this huge flying saucer surfaced out of the el dorado ruins.

The Disney animated flick " the road to el dorado " may have done more justice to the cultural reference than did Dr. Jones.

Cate Blanchett is one hot mama. Her cheekbones, lips, everything about her face and how she not dies until the end of the story is reason enough for me to see the movie. I couldn't care less if the plot sucks. It didn't seem like the producers were trying to make us think otherwise anyway. It was " Here is Dr. Jones after so many years, buy the ticket and just enjoy the ride" with wanton disregard for preventing its abomination.

After Independence Day and Forrest Gump, CGI and green screens have been stretched and squeezed out of its useful life. The moviemakers had always rushed the cinema technology goose for the golden eggs churning out one CGI laden movie to another that everything has kinda gone stale. With the exception of LOTR, Indy falls short of detaching itself from the cheaper by the dozen CGI movies. But Indy will be Indy. Despite all the experimental tinkering, all they really had to do was call on Harrison Ford to show up, dress him with the brown pants and the hat, hand him a whip and it's Indy all over again.

Bibe 2

Bibe was my cousin's college schoolmate. They weren't chummies during school but grew to become one when they both worked for the same company after graduation. Cousin tried several times to set me up with her friends, workmates, but none really turned into something so I wasn't really expecting anything with Bibe. I was just interested to see her cause the days leading into the wedding, my cousin would incessantly bring up her name. I thought maybe I could chat with Bibe a little but to see it getting anywhere was the farthest thing from my mind. I wasn't pushing my luck given my cousin's poor matchmaking history.

That was my first glimpse of her. It was rather awkward as it had to be there between two parked vehicles makeshifted as a dressing station with me fixing my hair using the car window as a poor mirror. The wedding went rather awkwardly but that's another story. Bibe offered, or should I say was forced to offer her services as official photocoverer(?), well not really her but her photography class buddies. But she too brought her DSLR along and it was kinda sexy to see a lady in formal wear, a dress, taking pictures using this huge black boxy photo contraption. I didn't really pay much attention to the proceedings. My role as groomsman required practically nothing of me. I just stood there, walked the aisle, created a trail for the bride, photo-op, the usual stuffs. I was just part of the headcount so all the while, during the wedding, I was just scanning the area looking for Bibe since she wouldn't stay put in one location she being one of the photographers.


I wouldn't say the wedding had the makings of a fairybook ending, I definitely wouldn't :>. The unexpected abberation cut short the proceedings along with it the much-awaited photo-ops. Arrgghhhh..........why the photo-ops? After the abbreviated ceremony all the guests went straight to the reception ahead of the couple. There we satiated our grumbling stomachs, exchanged some pleasantries, and gradually thinned out the throng at the fabulously ornated pavilion. One by one the guests went home not having the chance to see the bride and the groom post wedding. Everyone and everything cooperated. The weather taunted but that's the most she dared. There was utmost cooperation save for my cousin. No church photo-ops, no reception photo-ops. My supposed introduction to Bibe did not materialize. I just had to content myself with whatever I could: at least I got to see Bibe.

A few days later, when all was well my cousin called and asked if I could go in between her and Bibe regarding the wedding photos. You see my cousin stays in the province so she had me become her Mr. Liaison. Of course the real catch there is that I get the chance to meet Bibe again this time minus the distractions, minus the abberations, minus her, yeah, minus my cousin. Well...now...that would be different! I wasn't really as anxious this time since I've already seen Bibe and perhaps the unexpected wedding incident justified once more how my cousin should stay out of matchmaking. While it was definitely a big blow to my cousin really, not to trivialize her pain, I mean for that incident to happen at a time when Bibe and I were supposed to be introduced, that was just utterly eerie.(Don't mind me making these associations. It is unfair on my cousin cause she was the one who was hit the most but still....still it makes you think...:>).

Well what was I to do? My cousin was still fresh from her wedding incident and no one dared touch her fragile emotions with a two feet pole. It was not asking too much of me to simply get the CDs right? I mean how heavy can 4 CDs be?! I texted Bibe once again to schedule our meeting. I was just trying to fix our arrangement but what was supposed to be a WHO WHAT WHEN WHERE HOW discussion turned into a pleasant talk as though we've known each other for sometime already. Quite hackneyed right but honestly, it turned out to be like that. Count on Bibe to quash the uneasiness, we clicked right from the start. I was at the office when I called and I could clearly remember I was performing thermal measurements then and I got so engrossed that before I realised it, we had been talking for more than half an hour thru our mobile phones. That was when she insisted that we talk via landline. I thought of that too but I also thought that it would be too presumptuous of me asking for her home number. She offered and I happily obliged.

We met a good two weeks later. We were supposed to meet earlier but seeing her right away in too short notice will not be enough to at least take away even a quarter of my fine lines, the heavy eyebags from all the recent overtimes. I begged off and rescheduled. I wanted to make a good impression yes I did! Despite me convincing myself not to raise my hopes up... still! It was a weekend and I went to the gym a good 5 hours prior to the 6 o' clock meeting and I mostly did cardio exercises. Weights would come later. I know it should be lift first cardio later allowing the muscles to rest but hey, I'm no sly or arnold or mark wahlberg. It's not like I've already the buff and I just needed toning. My body appears more buffed(or so I think/feel) a good one hour after heavy lifting. I was trying to milk this transient physiological effect, make the most of it :>.


Again, as will be the hallmark of succeeding dates, I was late albeit only a few mins. Coming from Greenhills she was there at Powerbooks Megamall first. I saw her personally just once, I've got a good mental-picture of her though from her friendster pictures and that was all I was clinging to insofar as not mistaking her for anybody. I had it that I would be the one to come to her so she shouldnt bother telling me where she was exactly. Like how a lion hunts his prey so shall I be on the prowl :>. I told her I'd be looking for the tallest lady around wearing a blue shirt(that was all the clue I chose to have) but what if she was sitting? :>!

Found her standing along the shelves reading something and man was she tall up close! Didn't know she was 5'10". I thought she was just 5'8". The jeans only served to flatter her long legs even more. I rarely am with any person close to my height much more a woman so it was kinda new and weird to be talking with somebody without having to look down. The awkwardness surely didn't help when out of nowhere I began to stutter. It wasn't totally a stutter but it had me blurting out a few and short sentences only lest I totally ruin it. Morse code best described my initial speech pattern.

It was kinda uneasy on my part. I remember me leading her to the ground floor coaxing her to eat at the foodcourt in pao-tsin(a cheap standing only dimsum place). I wasn't really serious. I was supposed to deliver it as a joke but the uneasiness got the best of me and perhaps not having any idea of how I really was, she took it seriously. I quickly recovered telling her again, rather awkwardly, " NO, we eat at Dad's". A few hours before our meeting, she was joking&texting me that I should treat her at Dad's. Making our way from the lower ground up to the fourth I couldn't recall the nonsense that came out off my mouth. As we approached Dad's she said she was just joking but I wouldn't here any of it. I wanted to get right away with eating. Walking around looking for a place to eat would just flame my agitation. I just wanted to set camp right away.

I was hungry but I'm not one to overeat on a first date. Date....funny how I refer to it as that when the purpose of us meeting was simply for me to get the CDs. In local parlance, a DATE conjures images of two people, lovers, celebrating their intimacy. It wasn't a two sweethearts' date,no it was far from that. It was a date date, a formal date, the business variety. It wasn't intended to light up any fire even if I could picture my cousin, at that instant, somewhere in Batangas, grinning up to her ears patting herself at the back-mission accomplished. It was just the "get the CD date and storm out" kind. This kind is right up there in the list right?


For a slim lady, Bibe I have to say, at that time(take note of the disclaimers), had the appetite of an average man :>. This is not flattering but I'm just keeping it real and read the fine print: an average man. I guess that waters it down a little. Most women will eat only a few but not this one. She admitted, days later, that she was really hungry and hey, we were eating buffet style so why hold your horses. And consumption is directly proportional to mass right? The bigger you are the more your caloric requirement. Why pick on this lady? Shame on me :>.

I quicky settled soon after. After setting camp I went back to my old self. It was kinda fun going out with someone you were already favoring beforehand. I was biased towards her so anything that happened thereafter was just purely elementary. There was nothing she could have done to ruin that night for me and anything she did out of the ordinary simply adorned the icing already there on the cake.

After eating we went to browse a few shops. An antique shop, a novelty item shop, a shop for miscellaneous room decors. To me that was a big deal considering all we were supposed to do was meet and I, get the CDs. That little gesture adorned the icings. Icing, icing all over.


I got from her the wedding CDs and in exchange I gave her one of my own: Scarlett Johannson's lost in translation. Bibe was bound for Japan on a study grant. The setting of the movie was also in Japan and the littlest of connection sealed the deal for me :>. I don't know what I was thinking. Did I want her to see how like Scarlett, in Japan, she could be that girl?! I liked the movie and I wanted her to see it and it was in Japan? Actually I just wanted to give her anything. I thought sharing something will send a message across. To her I was, minus my cousin's stories, a total stranger and yet there I was giving her a token/gift and holding on to the tiniest bit of excuse to explain why I was doing so.

I felt good that night. I saw her through as she boarded the MRT. I can still see her riding the coach. I do. She was to the north, I south. I was so happy that night I wore a smile on my face. The girl in front of me on the train probably thought I was crazy grinning by myself. My mind was so saturated with the events that just transpired that I lost track of where I was supposed to get off. I only realised halfway past my designated station. No matter, I was happy. I can miss the station several times over so long as I've memories of Bibe I will never be lost.