Ramblings of a Bond Afficionado

I’m all revved up for the upcoming James Bond film… “Casino Royale”, the 21st in the most successful movie franchise of all time. (The film “Never Say Never Again, although a Bond film is not included because it was not part of the Broccoli series)

Watching a Bond film has always been an intimate experience for me. Hell, I could even recall which movie theatre I was in and who I was with when I first watched the film.

The first James Bond movie I watched in a movie house was “The Spy Who Loved Me”. It was in Fatima theatre (now defunct) in my old hometown in Antique. I was with my dad, my uncle and my younger brother. The scene where Jaws’ car fell on top of a hut still lingers on my mind. I was probably 4 years old at that time.

The next Bond film I saw in the same moviehouse was “ For Your Eyes Only”. I was with my Mom and my Kuya. I could still recall that day because my brother and I had to cut classes when Mom picked us up. (My Mom also a teacher at that school had to work undertime for that day)

The rest of the Bond films, Sean Connery series, George Lazenby’s On Her Majesty Secret Service, Roger Moore’s other series I got to see in Betamax and VHS. Even and Timothy Dalton’s “The Living Daylights” I only got to see on tape. (But I recall the first time I saw “The Living Daylights” on tape because my kuya pointed out that A-ha, our favorite band was playing the theme song)

The next Bond film I saw in a movie house was License to Kill which I watched alone at SM City. That evening Jiggs my high school roommate and I talked for hours about Bond stuff, girls, gadgets and goons.

And then after that, it had been a long lull before a new Bond movie came up. ( Normally a Bond movie is offered on the summer of an odd-numbered year. Broccoli had some legal battles with distribution rights which put the franchise on hold)

Naturally I was teeming with excitement when “GoldenEye” was finally shown in 1995 with Pierce Brosnan as the new Bond. I watched it at SM City with my high school and college buddy Jazz. Whew, I could still feel the adrenaline rush when the heart pumping intro of the theme song sounded off. (Even now I could still feel that rush, whenever the theme song plays on my car I unconsciously step on the accelerator and increase my cruising speed by 20 kph.) It felt like the 6 loooong years waiting for a Bond film was worth it. Our hunger was such that we stayed for another screening.

Next came “Tomorrow Never Dies in 1997. My schedule did not quite jibe with my roommates hence I had to watch the movie alone (They were available the following day but somehow I just couldn’t wait that long). I recall waking up early on its opening day and arriving at the movie house half an hour before the first screening, my packed lunch already prepared in my backpack. Knowing the long lines in SM on the first day, I chose the movie house in Ever Gotesco Commonwealth which turned out to be a good decision.

The next Pierce Brosnan’s film, “The World is Not Enough”, 1999, I watched in a moviehouse in Victoria Plaza in Davao City with Ms Doctolero, my science co-teacher. I was in Mindanao at that time working as a teacher. We were in Davao City for that day to buy supplies for the Science laboratory. I recall my dad kidding me over the phone because he got to see the film first in Iloilo City; the screenings in Davao and Gensan were a bit delayed.

For “Die Another Day” 2002, the honor goes to Pazette and Darwin, my hosts in Singapore. It was the first Bond movie I watched outside the Philippines. Pazette, my college batchmate was gracious enough to treat me for the advanced screening of the movie in Tang Plaza. It was also so sweet of her to give me a to-die-for Die Another Day poster which now hangs perfectly in my living room (Damn, Thanks Pazette !!!!) .

And now after 4 looong years, a new Bond movie is coming up. I was quite disappointed at first that they didn’t renew Pierce for the 21st film. There were rumors before that Aishwayra Rai would have been the Bond Girl, had Pierce accepted the offer. At any rate 4 long years is worth wait.

Clive Owen and Julian McMahon were considered before but I think the new Bond, Daniel Craig is worth a shot. A lot including my friend LesMatu were complaining that the new Bond is so un-Bond, lacking the required pretty boy features and suaveness, that previous Bonds exuded. But after watching the trailer, I think there is something elemental, cold-blooded and dangerous about the approach of Daniel Craig to the Bond character- it’s Bond at its rawest form.

At any rate whether the public agrees with me or not… damn, Casino Royale, you are worth the wait. What took you so long ?

Answers

We live our lives searching for some answers. They come in various forms and various disguises depending on the questions we ask

Some come piecemeal as if pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, others come whole, blatant and crystal clear.

Some come at unexpected times, others never seem to come at all – or perhaps they had but we never acknowledged them.

Some answers are so surprisingly simple we failed to notice they have been there all along. Most remain elusive - only the patient eventually find them.

Some answers are comforting we find refuge in them, others are so painful we summon the courage to embrace them.

Some seek answers for contentment. Others for enlightenment. Still others for liberation.

Lucky are the ones who ask and get to receive their answers early on. Sad for those who spend an eternity chasing for their own answers.

But nothing can be more tragic than for those who spend their lifetime seeking and eventually finding the answers, only to realize upon looking back that they have asked the wrong questions.

Part Diz

There’s no better analogy the way Mike has aptly put it - if New York city is a fun guy to be with, San Francisco is a beautiful lady. And my what a beautiful lady, San Francisco turned to be.

The last leg of my journey before I head back home.

Although I was still booked in an airport hotel, the trip this time to downtown was much faster and convenient. Save for a pathetic name – The BART ( Bay Area Rapid Transit) proved to be an efficient ride.

I was not set to meet my two batchmates in the area until the next day so I spent the early part of the evening roaming around the Fisherman’s wharf. The Cable car ride was not to be missed. I really enjoyed the ride since the streets in the area were very steep. I passed by the Ghirardelli square- VJ told me that the chocolates there were heavenly – so I bought several bars for the folks back home.

The following morning I left my stuff first at the stock room after checking out. I roamed once again the streets surrounding the Fisherman’s wharf. This time I walked from the train station to the wharf and casually took photos along the way. Had a glimpse of Alcatraz and a quick tour of the city on a double deck bus.

At 5 pm my Pisay batchmates Jand and Pat came by to pick me up at the hotel. We went to a nearby village and had a sumptuous treat of Japanese food.

Jand was the most religious guy I’ve met during my freshman year- always praying intently before and after his meals. He moved to the US after high school. I always thought he would make a brilliant priest. The next time I saw him (which was in college when he bunked in with my roommate Daj, another batchmate), Jand was casually flipping the pages of Penthouse.

Pat still had the devil-may-care attitude when it comes to expressing herself. The only vivid thing I remember about her was a Pinoy group practice held in Biology room. We were groupmates for a radio play of Arriverderci, during our sophomore year; she pushed the wrong button of the cassette player and shouted “Ay p*keng malaki”. I used to be shocked back then.

We were never really close in High school –each one had his own clique- but somehow having been exposed to the stress of the science high school environment we realized we had a lot in common. We had a bond that cannot be denied.

Our topics, ranging from the cerebral to down right kababawan, revolved on the very thing that bound us - our 4-year stay in Pisay.

I found it amusing how a single line from an obscure play – “Them’s not spiders dearie, them’s people, little people, hexed people” - can quite suddenly zoom us back in time. We talked as if we haven’t aged a bit. The conversation was very fruitful that Jand even got a thesis topic from the discussion – “why girls always fall for bad guys”

And then before we knew it was time for me to go.

On the way to the airport, Jand and Pat tempted with the idea of making a crazy move – stay there as “TNT”. Well I can’t say I did not consider the thought….

But then again I said to myself there’s always a proper time for everything.

Maybe next time around, I would stay there for good.

But right now, my heart lies where my home is.

A bite of the Big Apple (part sept)

A heavy downpour greeted me, as if to assert the weather’s inherent unpredictability, on the Friday morning I checked out of Connecticut Hotel. Just when the personal leg of my journey was starting, Mother Nature was showing its overwhelming support. Great.

Fortunately a few hours later, the grey swirls of clouds retreated, the rain petered out and my hope of having a swell time in the Big Apple – earlier dashed by the downpour- came back as quickly as it had gone out.

With tons of office work waiting back home, I only had a day; -definitely not enough time to have a taste of the Big Apple -but the vision of my boss giving me the basilisk look, the kind that would put to shame Lord Voldermort’s lethal stare, made the idea of a hastily extended vacation unpalatable.

I arrived at the NY airport hotel around 10 am and was greeted by the devastating news that the check in time was at 4pm. What the *&*^%%^. I’ve heard of check in times as late as 2pm. But 4 pm???, you gotta be kidding me. It was the normal check in time all over the city, I was told. Oh great, thanks for telling me that now.

Fortunately the hotel manager allowed me to leave my stuff at their warehouse. With my luggage secured (i.e. squeezed in an inconspicuous corner of a cramped sundries room), I was free to roam around the city. Clock was hitting 12, when I got back downtown. On hindsight I should have checked in instead in a downtown hotel.

The rest of the day passed like a blur. The twists and turns of the New York subway were more confusing than I had earlier thought; a big chunk of my time was eaten up deciphering the routes. Twice I boarded off at the wrong station. It didn’t help that I was foolishly proud enough not to ask for directions.

With my ever-reliable MP3 player and killer shades, I gallivanted through the stretch of Sixth Avenue, gawked at the looming edifices, browsed through thrift shops, and despite lingering thoughts of muggers lurking nearby, scampered through the dimly-lit alleys, dousing off the persistent fear that I might end up in the operating table of a CSI analyst or in a tubful of ice minus my kidney and pancreas.

My digestive organs were not as adventurous; for lunch, instead of having a taste of the famous Manhattan hotdogs by the stands, I decided to settle for a McBland, Mctasteless Big Mac Meal. It was at that rare moment, that I craved for Chickenjoy despite the annoyingly pacute Aga Muhlach as its endorser.

It finally hit me that I was not Superman (despite the obvious resemblance, ..cough cough). The itinerary I originally set would have rendered any mortal exhausted. Grudgingly, I crossed out the Metropolitan Museum and the Boat trip to Staten Island from my things to do and instead spent the afternoon at the Rockefeller area.

I passed by the infamous “Museum of Sex”. It was not as controversial as I expected it to be but it was nonetheless informative and entertaining. A smattering of contraptions -stuff that Marques de Sade’s dreams are made of - were proudly displayed in one level, definitely not for the prude and the weak-hearted. I remembered Gil Grissom’s line to Madame Heather “I find all deviant behavior fascinating, in that to understand our human nature, we have to understand our aberrations.”

My trip to the Top of the Rock was the highlight of the tour. The elevator ride offered a thrilling view as we zoomed to the top. Just as exciting as the ride up, the view on top didn’t disappoint me. Skyscrapers I only got to see in the opening scenes of CSI NY were suddenly right there in front of my very eyes. Alive. It couldn’t get any more real that that.

I definitely had to have a photo with the Empire State building at the background. I befriended some tourists by offering to take their photos (with their cams of course). Quid pro quo they returned the favor by taking my shot.

I headed back to the hotel at 5 pm for I had an appointment with NY-based relatives at 7. At the subway while I was peering over the map, an old man approached me.

“ Can I help you young man ?”

He was probably in his early sixties, graying hair, decently dressed. He had an umbrella in one hand which he used as a cane when he walked. Something about his features reminded me of the actor that played Jim Phelps in Mission Impossible. Although he limped, there was an air of dignified dapperness in the way he walked.

Hesitantly I answered. Yeah I am headed for Jamaica station and was wondering which train to take.

I am headed that way. You can take the train I’m taking.

A stranger in the NY subway offering for help would probably raise some internal alarms. It didn’t help that I had some preconceived notions of New Yorkers being haughty and inhospitable people. After all this was a fast-paced city, and people here would never stop for a moment to get out of their way to help someone.

I couldn’t bank on my gaydar either; oftentimes screwed up and pathetically calibrated, someone would already be hitting on me before I would have an idea of what’s going on.
But something told me, (probably my inclination to believe in the goodness of others) that this man just wanted to help, pure and simple, with no ulterior motives.

I took his train. For the next 45 minutes or so, we exchanged stories. For that brief span of time, I got a glimpse of his world, he got a glimpse of mine. He would have never thought I was a Filipino if I hadn’t told him. Yes he knew some Filipinos in his work and found them to fun-loving and hard-working people. He had a house in San Francisco but was working in NY as Vice President of a bank. He recounted his days in the Vietnam War and mourned the loss of his comrades. Somehow I noticed a woebegone expression, as he talked about his kids who were all grown up (as if everything happened in a blink) and now living on their own.
Despite the setting, it felt as if we were on a lake and he was teaching me how to fish.

Before he boarded off the train, we exchanged business cards and he wished me the best.

As the train doors were closing I somehow felt some pang of loss, the kind that you feel when two friends part ways at the inevitable end of a journey. For a moment, I hoped that our paths would cross again, but knowing life, it seemed a remote possibility.

I realized there’s a gem in the saying that you can be with someone for 30 years, yet still remain acquaintances, and be with someone for 30 minutes and remain friends for a lifetime.

In this whirligig called life, I am just thankful that occasionally we meet such persons albeit briefly, who make the journey more meaningful.

The Flight Out (part neuf)

My flight to San Francisco the following day was at 11 am. As always, there was no opportunity for serendipity. It had seemed to be an unlucky ride. Although I got a window seat, I got seated next to a frail seventy-ish lady who I suspect has a severe respiratory problem. Her coughs were loud, incessant and deep like her ribs were hollow.
She kept on coughing so forcefully I wouldn’t have been surprised if her dentures or esophagus shot out of her mouth.
Something did shoot out. It was probably Quaker oats she had for breakfast. Good thing she managed to catch the vomit deftly in her handkerchief- not deft enough though to hide the sight from me. I stared at the window and tried to forget what I saw. “Oh boy, it’s gonna be a looooong flight to San Fo”
Her white gnarled hands reminded me of my Lola Olive. I still have vivid memories of my Lola’s hands when she gave me her rosary. The same hands that used to clutch a white hanky which she also used as her improvised wallet; bills neatly folded, secured by two square knots
The hanky of the old lady beside me contained something else. And the thought of it and the long flight ahead made me uneasy.
During our ascent she started out a conversation. She was from Kansas. I told her I was from the Philippines. I did not bother asking how she ended up taking a San Fo Flight from New York. Normally I would have lots of follow up questions to keep the ball rolling but I was half-tired, half-squeamish. Somehow the old lady felt that I was uninterested so the talk ended up abruptly. I decided to browse through the magazines to alleviate the air of uncomfortable silence (save for the occasional coughing).
When the plane steadied and the seat belt signs were off, I stood up and checked out for vacant seats. Great ! Our flight was only half-full; there were plenty of vacancies in the middle. The old lady’s companion, a lady probably in her forties- a caretaker maybe- occupying the aisle seat, somehow read my thoughts and understood my predicament. “ It’s alright young man. You can transfer anytime”. I excused myself from the old lady and clutched my jacket. As I was easing out of our row she threw me a question. “From which part of the Philippines are you?”
“I am from the Philippines” And my mind was like “Yeah, like an old lady from Kansas would have an idea of the places in the Philippines”
“Yeah I already know that. I mean which place? Like Manila for instance”
I was somehow surprised that she knew something about the Philippines, more that it just being a country in the Far East. (Yeah, I know it’s rather mean of me to have underestimated her). It would have taken a lot longer if I told her “ I actually grew up in Antique an island in the Visayas blah blah” so I just said “Yeah I’m from Manila”
I just had to get out of there. And fast.
But then for the first time I stared into her eyes and held her gaze for a moment. She had a deep and penetrating look and it was welling with sadness. There was something about it that tugged the depths of my soul.
What was she conveying? What was it that I saw? What was it that struck me? Sorrow? Pain? Fear? Longing?
Was she afraid of her impending death?
Was she crying for her unbearable loneliness, the kind that you feel when you’ve lost a loved one?
Was she pleading for companionship, like when you’re lost, alone and cut-off from the world ?
Was it really sorrow in her eyes that I saw or maybe it was my own sorrow reflected?
I did consider going back to my seat. For some strange reasons I felt pity to the lady. But I was already on my way and I disliked the idea of appearing foolishly ambivalent.
I transferred to the middle section of the plane where everything was peaceful. I could have easily taken my respite. Yet the pleading look from the old lady haunted me.
There she was, lonely, afraid, longing for a kind soul to talk to and I, the one person who could have made things easier for her, abandoned her.
I felt at that instant that I was the meanest person on earth.

Die Hard in New York (Part huit)

“Die Hard” was a term coined back from Pisay days. We refer it jokingly to players who would exert their last ounce of effort to save the ball – never mind if you dive like a kamikaze, go skittering across the pavement, and risk breaking a limb, if it all meant saving a single yet crucial point for the team.



By all means, I was making my NY stay the “die hard” way. Time was the enemy and any moment spent resting is precious time lost. By the time I got back to the hotel, my entire body was already protesting and craving to rest. The comfort of the soft pillow, the wooly blanket and the cold blast of the aircon was sooooo tempting you could have Anna Nicole Smith naked in there and I would still opt to have a long and deep slumber. After all when push comes to shove, sleep comes first in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.
But I promised my Tita Acay Remy that I would pass by their place. It was in Mushulu Parkway which was on the other side of New York City and it meant going back downtown again. (Damnit, next time never book in an airport hotel). I was almost tempted to cancel the appointment- I was too damn exhausted.
But the other side of me thought that I rarely get the opportunity to meet my relatives in New York, whereas I could have all the rest and sleep I want back in the Philippines. (I am glutton when it comes to sleeping.)
So I did it the Die Hard” way and headed back to downtown at 7 pm. There was only one train exchange which was convenient as I was dozing off the entire time. As the train was approaching to Moshulu parkway, which was at the near end of the Bronx area, I noticed during my torpid state, that the passenger skin tones became darker and darker.
I’ve heard lots of crime stories in the Bronx ( the Tondo version of New York) so I was really wary when I boarded off the station. The site was an awful mess really -skewed turnstiles, busted phone booths, dimly lit stairways, graffiti on walls, stench of urine and alcohol – the typical NY subway crime scene you get to see in movies. I ran as fast as I could and only stopped when I saw a well-lit convenience store with a phone booth a block away from the station.
My Tito Bubot picked me up. Their place was a little bit cramped but I was somehow amazed that they were able to fit all their butingtings in the apartment. You know, the usual Pinoy accoutrements- an altar, Sto. Nino, a painting of the last supper, souvenir items from long forgotten weddings and debuts, photo albums.
Tito Bubot and Tita Acay Remy used to be teachers in my hometown and had moved to the Big Apple about a decade ago in search for the American Dream. They are third degree cousins of my mother. Tita Acay Belen, another relative was staying with them. My mom and the 2 Tita Acays were co-teachers in my Alma Mater. I was quite amused to recall that these Tita Acays were the two teachers I feared most – their strictness was well known among my schoolmates. Hell, I could still even recall the two instances Tita Acay Belen scolded me in class.
How quaint, my elementary years were sandwiched by two terror teachers: Tita Acay Remy, kindergarten; Tita Acay Belen, grade 6. Never would I have ever imagined when I was in Elementary that I would someday be having dinner with them in New York City.
A feast they served and how - crabs, prawns, tuna, chicken- it almost felt like I was back home eating at Kamayan restaurant. The trip was well worth it. Tita Acay explained that it’s almost like the Philippines there with all the ingredients of typical Filipino food available and reasonably priced.
We exchanged stories. I gave them updates of the hometown happenings. They recounted their tales – the difficulties they had to go through until finally getting the sought-after green card. In true Filipino fashion, they gave some pasalubong for the folks back home. It was almost midnight when they drove me back to the hotel
And so came the end of my New York journey. I was just happy to finally get some shut-eye.
In the movie Die Hard, Bruce Willis saves the world, kills the bad guys and gets the girl.
In my life story, at least in this episode, there’s no world to save, no bad guys to kill, no girl to get. But at least, the good guy, after a long and tiring yet eventful journey, gets to have the rest he well deserved. That I guess makes a good happy ending for now.

Why I Love dogs

Oh the wonders of Internet. I finally got to download a short story I first read almost 20 years ago. This story has had a major impact on me and explains my passion for dogs. After all these years , I still can't help but get teary-eyed after reading this story.

TWO WERE LEFT
By Hugh B. Cave


On the third night of hunger, Noni thought of the dog. Nothing of flesh
and blood lived upon the floating ice island except those two.

In the breakup, Noni had lost his sled, his food, his furs, even his knife. He had saved only Nimuk, his great devoted husky. And now the two, marooned on the ice, eyed each other warily each keeping his distance.

Noni’s love for Nimuk was real, very real as real as hunger and cold nights and the gnawing pain of his injured leg. But the men of his village killed their dogs when food was scarce, didn’t they? And without thinking twice about it.

And Nimuk, he told himself, when hungry enough would seek food. One of us will soon be eating the other, Noni thought.

He could not kill the dog with his bare hands. Nimuk was powerful and much fresher than he. A weapon, then, was needed. Removing his mittens, he unstrapped the braces from his leg. When he had hurt his leg a few weeks before, he had made the brace from bits of harness and two thin strips of iron.

Kneeling now, he wedged one of the iron strips into a crack in the ice and began to rub the other against it with firm, slow strokes. Nimuk watched him, and it seemed to Noni that the dog’s eyes glowed more brightly.

He worked on, trying not to remember why. The slab of iron had an edge now. It had begun to take shape. Daylight found his task completed.

Noni pulled the finished knife from the ice and thumbed its edge. The sun’s glare, reflected from it, stabbed at his eyes and momentarily blinded him.

Noni steeled himself. Here, Nimuk, he called softly. The dog suspiciously watched him.

Come here, Noni called. Nimuk came closer. Noni read fear in the animal’s gaze. He read
hunger and suffering in the dog’s labored breathing and awkward crouch. His heart wept. He hated himself and fought against it.

Closer Nimuk came, aware of his intentions. Now Noni felt a thickening in his throat. He saw the dog’s eyes, and they were wells of suffering.

Now! Now was the time to strike!

A great sob shook Noni’s kneeling body. He cursed the knife. He swayed blindly, flung the weapon far from him. With empty hands outstretched, he stumbled toward the dog and fell.

The dog growled as he circled the boy’s body. And now Noni was sick with fear. In flinging the knife, he had left himself defenseless. He was too weak to crawl after it now. He was at Nimuk’s mercy, and Nimuk was hungry.

The dog circled him and was creeping up from behind. Noni heard the rattle in the savage throat. He shut his eyes, praying that the attack might be swift. He felt the dog’s feet against his leg, the hot rush of Nimuk’s breath against his neck.

A scream gathered in the boy’s throat. Then he felt the dog’s hot tongue licking his face.
Noni’s eyes opened. Crying softly, he thrust out an arm and drew the dog’s face down against his own

The plane came out of the south an hour later. Its pilot, a young man of the coast patrol, looked down and saw the large floating iceberg. And he saw something flashing. It was the sun gleaming on something shiny, which moved. His curiosity aroused, the pilot banked his ship and descended. Now he saw, in the shadow of the peak of ice, a dark, still shape that appeared to be human. Or were there two shapes?

He set his ship down in a water lane and investigated. There were two shapes, boy and dog. The boy was unconscious but alive. The dog whined feebly but was too weak to move.

The gleaming object which had caught the pilot’s attention was a crude knife, stuck point first into the ice a little distance away, and quivering in the wind.

A verse, A song, A book, A movie

I’ve been pretty much depressed lately. And it isn’t the usual depression that could be drowned by a couple of bottles or a cruise through NLEX. This probably explains my self-imposed isolation from Friendster and the blogging world for the past 2 weeks. I was hoping in my period of discernment to find some answers.

But as it is, the answers remain elusive. I wish life’s questions could be as simple as deriving the roots of a formula. But even the roots of a simple equation can be complex and imaginary. One just has to deal with the extraneous, the complexities, the ambiguities.

The answers may never be found. It is probably the process of arriving at those answers that is important.

Life goes on…

A biblical verse (Ecclesiastes 2:10-11)

Anything I wanted, I took. I did not restrain myself from any joy. I even found great pleasure in hard work, an additional reward for all my labors.

But as I looked at everything I had worked so hard to accomplish, it was all so meaningless. It was like chasing the wind. There was nothing really worthwhile anywhere.

A song (Lyrics of a song by Diana Ross)

Do you know where you're going to?

Do you like the things that life is showing you
Where are you going to?
Do you know...?

Do you get
What you're hoping for
When you look behind you
There's no open door
What are you hoping for?
Do you know...?

A book (lines from a book “The Hunt for Red October” by Tom Clancy. These lines were flashed during a sermon in UP a few weeks back)

Markus Ramius watched the coffin roll into the cremation chamber to the somber strain of the classical requiem, wishing that he could pray for Natalia’s soul, hoping that Grandmother Hilda had been right, that there was something beyond the steel door and mass of flame. Only then did the full weight of the event strike him: the State had robbed him of more than his wife. It had robbed him of a means to assuage his grief with prayer. It had robbed him of the hope – if only an illusion – of ever seeing her again.

A movie (from the Movie “Contact”)

Alien: You're an interesting species, an interesting mix. You're capable of such beautiful dreams and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you're not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable is each other.

Dr. Arroway: So what happens now?

Alien: Now, you go home…

Dr Arroway : But others need to see what I see. They need to..

Alien: This was just the first step. In time, we will take another.

Dr. Arroway: But…

Alien: Small moves Ellie… small moves.

First Time

When was the last time you did something for the first time?

A few Fridays ago, I did something for the first time with my 3 lady friends. And what a first time it was! Menage-a-quatre makeover.

What started as a tame game of trumps with Jen, Shane and Cecille ended up with a ludicrous wager. It was all seemingly innocuous at first

If I win, I get to have a free dinner at my place of choice.

If I lose, they get to mess up with my hair and my entire outfit.

Definitely a no-brainer. Sure I’ve got something to lose, but my guts were saying it was going to be an easy win.

How was I to know the outcome would be the opposite? To make the story short, I lost and the girls were pleased to give the punishment.

I could have taken the easy way out, kneel down, cry like a baby and ask for a different penalty. But ego can be a bad thing so like a true gentleman, I had to stick to the agreement (despite the apprehension and almost wetting my pants).

So come next Friday night, I became the unwitting star –nah more like the hapless victim- of my eager friends. (Eager is probably tame, they were more like drooling like a pack of velociraptors before the kill). I somehow suspect they are dying to stage their own version of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Being a staunch advocate of science I knew the value of experimentation, but it didn’t assuage my fear knowing I was the guinea pig in their makeover experiment.

A P400 haircut, 2 grams of Hair Clay, 3 trips to the fitting room, gazillion deafening heartbeats and tons of perspiration later I became their finished work of art. I must admit from the before and after shots the transformation was well…uh…noticeable.

I was initially hesitant with the new me, but judging from the reactions of my officemates, classmates, and friends, number of profile views, and some proposals bordering on indecency, I could say I now have high regard for women’s intuition and taste.

Losing a bet actually never felt this great!

Hey Jen, Cess, Shane anytime you want to makeover my unit, dinner’s on me. Hehehe. Cheers!

Mnemonic Possession

Hear ye. Hear ye. You folks out there, remember the name … Jodl Gayatin. I shall forever be known in the field of astronomy.

Celestial navigators shall refer to me in their lifelong quest.

Star struck poets (not the Dream Believe Survive kind of crap) shall have mouthful froth upon hearing my name.

Amateur astronomers shall glorify me in astronomy books for generations and generations to come.

Aren’t you glad you have known me in your lifetime? Better ask for my autograph now while I’m still reachable.

Ok lower down those eyebrows. (You too Ria T.!) What amazing feat, you ask, have I done to earn such prestige?

Have I discovered a heretofore-unknown planet? Nope discoveries of heavenly bodies ain’t my cup of tea.

Have I proven the presence of a black hole in nearby regions of the solar system? Not quite…although I once did suspect its existence somewhere between the ears of a former boss.

Have I derived the great equation for the Theory of Everything thereby unifying the four forces of the universe? The much-sought equation that has eluded Einstein. That one single beeeeautiful equation that holds true in the beginning and at the end of time. The Holy Grail of Physics. An awesome far-reaching formula that encompasses Newton’s Laws, Relativity and Quantum Mechanics. A mathematical derivation, Ockham’s-razor in its simplicity yet brilliantly elegant; eternal and enduring be it at the heart of Big Bang or at the fringes of the Event Horizon. (okay if you’ve reached this part without having brain hemorrhage, nay on the contrary even groaning in ecstasy…. my advice…you’re spending too much in the theoretical subatomic world - grab a beer and get a life !) (how dare this schmuck tell me to fix my life when he spends his free time croaking sappy songs and scribbling senseless blog stuff)

No folks… None of the above.

I, a few years and heartaches back, once came up with a mnemonic device. ( Mnemonic devices– you know stuff like “Every Good Boy Does Fine” in Music or the “Bad Boys Rape Our Young Girls But Violy Gave in Willingly.. in Electrical Engg)

I was a college student then who joined the great UP Astronomical Society for a profoundly compelling reason - my ravishing classmate was also applying. Oh the ironies of life, she never finished the application and I eventually got stuck with a bunch of stiff-necked, bespectacled, geeky folks (who are nonetheless adorable, cute and exciting – I know you guys are going to read this, so there!)

Anyway, Astronomy 101 – the zodiacal constellations in sequence are ARIES, TAURUS, GEMINI, CANCER, LEO, VIRGO, LIBRA, SCORPIO, SAGITTARIUS, CAPRICORN, AQUARIUS and PISCES. (By the way, ASTRONOMY is different from ASTROLOGY, the former is science the latter is a pseudo science bullsh*t) It’s kinda hard memorizing the sequence so I came up with a Mnemonic Device. One that is simple and star-studded…

“According To Gabby Concepcion Laging Very Loving Si Sharon Cuneta After Performance.”

Lo and behold. Several years and star gazing sessions after, amateur astronomers are using my mnemonic device. Yeba! Talk about legacy. (ok you should realize by the now the feat is really nothing stupendous, but since this is my blog allow me to feel deluded a bit )

(Here's the link. Please read the footnote)
http://home.astronomy.com.ph/?id=/200601/columns/editorial

Actually the Mnemonic device might not have its enduring quality. The young ones would no longer recognize who the hell Gabby Concepcion is.

Ancient Showbiz 101 for the young ones and the feeling young ones with feigned amnesia. Gabs and Shawie were the Juday and Piolo, or Bea and Lloyd or Uma and Sam (hehe peace Uma fans) of the 80’s.

Gabby Concepcion became my father-in-law (at least in my own parallel universe) when a lovely lady emerged like an Immaculate Venus from a pool of water (or was that a pool of pH care? – I couldn’t bear to associate KC soaked and cleansed in a pool of feminine wash…. you do the analogy)

At any rate folks, do remember the mnemonic device. It might come in handy especially if you know where to spot the constellations. Knowing the names and their locations would definitely give gazillion pogi points during a stroll under the night sky with your hot date. Just don’t lose your cool like I did last time

Gorgeous gal : ( after being told the names of the stars she’d been pointing) Wow, Jodl

you know your stars pretty well (with twinkling eyes)

Me: Yeah… Actually You know what ? You remind me of the stars..

GG: Really and why is that?…(purring)

Me: Er…. Well …Uhm… ( Darn, notice how you forget the lines you’ve memorized a thousand times during that crucial moment)

GG: Y--es? (eyes twinkling more rapidly this time)

Me: Er…You’re like a star, coz.. er…..um…you’re a heavenly body, light years away , flaming like one big ball of hot gases… (Arrgh , it was not supposed to go like that..)

GG: (after a moment of stunned disbelief) Moron !

Happy stargazing !

Valentine Aftershock

Time to get sappy, mawkish, senti…

Hey I have an excuse, it’s still the week of Valentine’s.

Actually I hate Valentine’s. It is just an elaborate ploy by the bloody capitalists to make fools of the clueless XY-chromosomed species. We’re pressured to buy flowers and gifts as proof of our affection.

And where’s the justice there? Only a handful dine over a candlelight, watch a concert, stroll on a starry night while the rest (i.e the singles, heartbrokens and unclaimed gifts) are forced to stay at home, watch horror movies and eat blueberry cheesecake to assuage their loneliness. (ok ok sour graping lang po ng isang SMV 06 member)

But cynical, I am not. In fact in the spirit of Valentine’s let me share some snippets of lyrics playing in my CD player these past few weeks. Fancy what a 120mm disk can do – it can cool the hottest of heads during the grueling rush hour traffic in C5.

Notice how some lines of a song flash vignettes of your so-called life? So handy for folks like me who are morons when it comes to articulating this creepy thing called love. Now all I have to do is lift those lines.

(I know, I need to update my song list already – they ‘re very ancient- but I find the current songs playing on the airwaves lacking the oomph. Either that or I am tuned to the wrong stations)

Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking for by U2

I have climbed highest mountains
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you
I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I Don’t Want To Wait by Dido

I don't want to to wait for our lives to be over,
I want to know right now what will it be
I don't want to wait for our lives to be over,
Will it be yes or will it be...sorry?

Dreaming by Selena

Late at night when all the world is sleeping
I stay up late and think of you and I wish on a star
That somewhere you are thinking of me too

'Cause I'm dreaming of you tonight
'Til tomorrow I'll be holding you tight
And there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be
Than here in my room dreaming about you and me

Hello by Lionel Richie

Hello, is it me you're looking for?
'Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying ... I love you

Superman by Five For Fighting

It may sound absurd...but don’t be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed...but won’t you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream
It’s not easy to be me

Missing You by John Waite

In your world
I have no meaning
Though I'm trying hard
to understand
And it's my heart that's breaking
Down this long distance line tonight
I ain't missing you at all
Since you've been gone
Away
I ain't missing you
No matter
What my friends say

King of Wishful Thinking by Go West

I refuse to give in to my blues
That's not how it's going to be
And I deny the tears in my eyes
I don't want to let you see.. no
That you have made a hole in my heart
And now I've got to fool myself..

I'll get over you.. I know I will
I'll pretend my ship's not sinking
And I'll tell myself I'm over you
'cause I'm the king of wishful thinking..

(Special thanks to Jen A. for the Sunset photo. Hanep ah 3 Jens have been actively part of this blog. Jen S. the florist, Jen M. the lawyer and Jen A. the sunset-chaser. Mabuhay kayong lahat! Happy V !)

Time Capsule - This One's For You Mac

Time Capsule – This One’s for you Mac

It’s Feb 14 and I suppose as expected by some, this entry would tackle one of the most profound mysteries of the world -love. But I am not really a big fan of Valentines Day. The world – well at least the so-called civilized part anyway- has a way of ruining the best days of the year through commercialization. Gone are the days when a simple picnic by the brook would suffice to celebrate life, love, existence, togetherness, possibilities. In a world that has slowly gone aberrant one’s depth of commitment is now associated by the number of carats of the ring or the $ value of the gift. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned love?

But hey before I proceed with my litany, this log is way off the big V.

It is about an event that happened on Valentine’s day a few years back.

Thw year was 2001. We buried a time capsule on a Valentine’s Day. In Dole Philippines School, where I taught science for 2 years, Valentine’s Day coincides with Teacher’s Appreciation Day. At that time I organized a time capsule burial activity with my freshman advisory class. I was all set to go back to the Corporate world and wouldn’t be able to see my kids go through high school. But I made a pact with them that in 3 years time (on their senior year) I would go back on that same date to dig up the treasure together.

Time capsule burial is something that has always fascinated me. In the absence of a time machine, it is a way of connecting the past and the future. There is that inevitable challenge of fulfilling a promise to unearth the treasure. It is about a commitment that no matter what, your future self will have to make the journey full circle.

My fascination harks back to the “Blood Brothers” episode of MacGyver, which I first saw on my second year in high school.

For a young naïve, promdi kid studying in Philippine Science High, hundreds of miles away from the family, it meant dealing all alone with the culture shock, homesickness, bullies, and adolescence angst. I had literally no one to turn to. (Picture yourself in your high school years, dealing with all these stuff, all alone. That was how tough it was) And so it probably made sense that my father figure during those tumultuous years was a fictional character by the name of MacGyver.

Such probably was his impact that the first course I took in college was Applied Physics, Mac’s Field of Expertise. When I shifted to Chemical Engineering I even used Mac’s byline as rationalization- exploring other fields. (This he mentioned to his professor in the episode “Hell Week”, one of the best episodes) On hindsight, I did seem to have inherited MacGyver’s curse with the ladies as well – occasionally linked but emotionally inaccessible.

Anyway, this “Blood Brothers” episode was perhaps the best in the series. It was in this episode that viewers went back in time to discover the root cause of the central “flaw” in Mac’s character- his strong distaste for guns.

This was also the episode where Mac had a taste of the sublime and came back to fulfill a pact he made as a kid – to unearth the time capsule he buried with his buddies.

Of course MacGyver at first had a hard time convincing his buddies. Somehow his friends have “matured” already and never saw the beauty of fulfilling the promise.

*****

Fast forward to the year 2004. I was already based in Manila as an EHS Engineer. It had been three years since I left the academe. But I did recall the pact I had with my students. It was a pact that I had to keep no matter what the odds were.

And so on Valentines day of 2004 exactly 3 years after, after wrestling with my boss to grant me a leave, canceling a blind date, and draining my savings for the plane fare (I had to cut down on my gimmick expenses just to set aside the amount) I went back to Mindanao to fulfill the promise.

It seemed pretty stupid to go through all the trouble just to dig up what arguably was a worthless piece of junk. But as I looked at the treasure we unearthed, I felt an inner sense of joy, peace and fulfillment. I had a connection with my old idealistic self. It was like going back in time.

What I did was probably foolish and impractical. But for me it had been a life statement.

It was my way of expressing that I haven’t succumbed to the banalities of life.

It was a message to my kids that promises are meant to be kept.

More importantly, it was also my way of saying - Hey Mac, Thanks. This one’s for you.

She Who Must Not Be Named

I was all set to give my new baby a name. Suffice to say it was just short of having a baptismal party, with ninongs and ninangs in tow and the works.

After all, the hardest part – determining the most suitable name to call my new car- was over.

Technically the car isn’t mine, it belongs to the company. But so long as I humbly submit myself to the beck and call of the almighty company, to work and to slave, for better or for worse, in paid sick leaves and in health, till resignation/ retrenchment do us part, I shall be enjoying the car benefit.

And since I will be stuck with the car for the next five years, I thought of giving her a name to personalize the ..uh.. partnership.

Arriving at THE NAME has not been an easy task. For one, there is that looming benchmark; it has to be a name at par with her predecessor…the exotically and seductively sounding Tanya..

It didn’t help that after posting the Tanya entry I have received numerous messages from inquisitive friends asking who my next car will be. Talk about pressure. .

So name-shopping I did…

Initially, I considered some Spanish names – Maria, Corazon, Socorro, Rosario, Dolor, Amparo. Just listening to the series makes you sigh and utter gibberishly …Madre mia, que bonita”; “Tiene una cara perfecta pero es si inteligente?, Mama Cita donde esta Santa Claus?”.. But before I get flipped out by the romance of the language, I had to remind myself that these names are now attributed to women of the bygone era . Ah que lastima !

The name, I decided, has to be more 21st century. It should evoke mystery. Undoubtedly feminine with finesse and spunk. It should be enduring. Pleasant to the ear even after a couple of years and thousands of mileage.

Tiffany, Stephanie, Katrina, Olivia, Kristina, Melissa – Such gorgeous names. Unfortunately I had to scrap them out from the list because I have folks in my network with these names. Lest I earn their ire, I took the safer route. Hell hath no fury than a lady friend named after a lifeless metallic junk.

Moving on with the list

Amanda – hmmm I picture Griffin and Page here. I haven’t known anyone named Amanda who’s not pretty… a good name… a possibility…

Asia - too slutty, no thanks.

Cindy – a winner… but could be associated with Cindy Kato and Patay Cindy… sorry Ms. Kurleto, this one’s out…

Anjanette – close your eyes… what comes to your mind?.... nice name right?...

Britney – taken na po (hikbi)….. .definitely out…. (Trivia- Britney and I have the same birth date, kewl- ok so you’ve got something in common, so what?)

Bianca – ah… a name fit for senoritas and herederas, fair-skinned damsels who’d faint at a pin prick, another one of those “Tiene una cara perfecta” kind of name.. Marvelous (sigh) …but way up there on the pedestal…unreachable.

Hermione – Cute name. Cute character. You gotta admit the way she says “Wingardium Levi-yoooo-sa” is kinda haughty, smart and sexy. She could Avada Kedavra me anytime… But cradle snatcher I am not ….next please…

Winona – hmmm fancy, I did consider this. I picture Ms Ryder in Coppolla’s “Dracula” before her klepto bout. Her name though, is used so often in gay lingo, its glamour has been reduced to the level of chaka, chuvalu, and cheness so I guess this one is definitely chugi .

Jolens, Jopay and Juday – If it starts with a J, It’s kinda okay (hey that rhymes !!)….but nah…too Jologs.

Keanna, Kuhdet, Krungkrung, – What’s with K man? I’d rather walk half-naked from Antipolo to Bicutan, in the heat of the midday sun than name my car after them..

And then it hit me…I saw a big sign in a construction site with THE NAME to be… Yep That’s it. ! Why not? Cute name… very feminine. .. Not too classy. Not too jologs either. The recall is great. Two syllables, 007 letters, and starts with a P. Can be both scientific and poetic. Ah perfect… The search is over…

But life is full of ironies.. On the night, I planned to reveal the name, my friend Jenny offered an urban legend. It sounded more like a curse. (Hi Jen, sorry for the delay, I know you looked forward to this entry.) (By the way, folks out there, if you’re planning to buy Flowers for Valentine’s or for wedding, please order from Ka-Blooms, owned and managed by my lovely friend Jen. Grabe shameless plugging ito hehehe)

Now where was I? Oh yeah, the curse… According to the curse, guys who name their cars don’t end up in a meaningful relationship.

Hhhhuwhaaaat???? My incredulity exactly. (It was not just an ordinary what. It was more surreal, like the Dove commercial “No, she’s not my daughter, she’s my granddaughter” incredulous kind of what)

Hey I might have the name ready and all but…..I just didn’t want to taunt fate.

Am not superstitious… (Yeah right ).

You must understand my situation I had no choice…(Ok we hear you)

So reluctantly I have finally decided to call the car “She Who Must Not Be Named”.

Darn !

(In case you’re wondering what the name would have been, you’re invited to guess. Hanep ah, naging interactive na itong blog. First one to guess it correctly gets 2 orders of kinilaw and 6 bottles of San Mig light in Riverbanks or a dinner at Seven Suites at Antipolo. Cheers!)

(Special thanks to Atty Mildred for the photo used in this entry. Great shot! Keep shooting!)

GOODBYE TANYA

Goodbye Tanya.

Alas…Some good things never last.

As you’re going your way and I goin’ mine, let us be grateful for the journey that has been.

Thank you for one and a half years of fun-filled memories.
It has been such a great ride and it wouldn’t have been as memorable without you.

You were my first and that makes you special…

I will always remember our frequent drive to White Rock- the way we deftly maneuvered the serpentine roads of Antipolo.

I will cherish our Carpe Diem moments – unscheduled lunches in Tagaytay, spur-of the-moment RORO to Antique, free-wheeling in Baguio, getting stranded in Calapan, sunset-chasing in San Jose, ghost hunting in Bugasong.

I will always recall the sounds we’ve listened to, from the hilarious tambalang balasubas at balahura to the weekend tandem of Cherry and Paul in Light Rock to the “ginapamitaan bisan diin” time slot of my bro.

I will never forget your captivating Coronado Cherry scent.

You’ve been part of the family. I know my parents, my brothers and my sisters, even my friends who knew you intimately, would surely miss you.

You were always there for me - when I had to go early to the office or when I had to stay late to finish some stuff. Even on weekends you dutifully accompanied me, like a princess in green shining armor

I know at times I may have neglected you.
If I could turn back time…. I would spend more time with you, sleep with you more often, wash your whole body with more passion.

But now it’s time for us to go on our separate ways. I would definitely miss you.

Goodbye Tanya.


(Tanya is the name I gave to the green Civic issued to me in Wrigley. My first car. I shall be turning her over this week to the next owner)

You're Dah Man, Pac Man !!!!!

Last night I found myself clutching the rosary uttering the Apostles Creed, Our Father and the 53 Hail Mary’s in Espanol (one way I practice Spanish ).

Pray the rosary, I rarely do, unless there’s something I really wanted to ask- like the release of Angelo Dela Cruz.

Last night I was restless and desperate; I baaaaadly wanted Manny Pacquiao to win the fight against Morales. I have never salivated like a hungry wolf over a victory before- well not since the Onyok Velasco Olympic fight.

This just wasn’t Manny’s fight. It was the fight of the Philippines. The hope of the entire nation lay on his hands literally.

In these times of uncertainty, of despair, of endless political bickering, we badly need an inspiration. We need a hero to remind us that we are indeed lucky to be Filipinos.

There was no other way. Manny has got to win. ( I actually received a joke text message that the 4 Magdalo members who got out just wanted to watch the Pacman fight and promised to return on Monday-hehe cute joke.)

Sunday morning, I was glued to the TV watching the much-awaited fight. Wanting to savor the excitement, I texted my 2 supervisors who were watching in SM Cinema not to text the outcome of the results.

However while round 2 was still going on TV, I received a message from a former student

GJ : “ Sir, alam ko na result ng laban =( “

The “=(“. led me to thinking,… My God . Was it a loss? I pleaded to God that it wasn’t true. Please please, the Philippines badly needed this win.

Damn I didn’t know I was that desperate, I actually negotiated that if He would let Pacquiao win, I would not just be a good boy, I will be a very very very good boy. ( Sa amin na lang ni Lord, kung anong mga pinangako ko hehehe)

If the battle was indeed a loss, I would have to know that very moment. So I googled “Pacquiao” and there it was, the announcement “ Pacquiao beats Morales”.

It turned out the “=( “ actually was to express disappointment by GJ for knowing the results already.

At any rate I didn’t care if I knew the result already while round 2 was still going on.

Pacquiao did it ! We made it ! The Philippines did it !

YEBA !!!!!!!! YEBA !!!!!! YEBA!!!!!

Damn, I have never been so proud to be a Filipino…

To Manny the PacMan… You’re the MAN!!!!

Thank you. Merci Gracias. Salamat ! for making us proud!

Kahit mali mali English mo, I don’t give a damn, I have elevated you to idol status along with Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton, Jose Rizal, Agatha Christie, Pope John Paul 2, J.K. Rowling, James Bond and Angus MacGyver.

I am so ecstatic I will actually treat my friends for a beer drinking session to celebrate your victory. (well kung ilan kakasya sa apartment)

Damn I am so happy I will buy your album instead of Ultraelectromagneticjam (didn’t know till today that you’re a recording artist).

I will give up being Kapuso temporarily if only to watch you in the Kapamilya network

I will totally support you, I will buy all the products you endorse.

I will stock supplies of Alaxan kahit wala akong body pains.

I will pakyaw Darlington socks kahit baduy commercial niyo.

I will wash my clothes and scrub my toilet with Surf powder – hell, even wash my face with it.

I will wear No Fear Underwear even though I may not have the balls for it.

(Just make sure you don’t endorse Bambini, Pau Liniment or Likas Papaya when you come back, ok?)

I will consume my entire load if you become a Big Brother housemate.

I will erect a statue for you when I become rich someday.

I will name my first child after you, kahit babae… (okay, okay will somebody whack me please)

Manny, Maraming maraming salamat !

Response to the Message in a Bottle

A friend asked how the Jodl of 2006 would have responded to the Message in a bottle. So Cecille, here goes a rather long entry. Suffice to say my planned 3 entries for the week have been fulfilled.

Thanks Stan for the photo.

THE RESPONSE

January 20, 2006

Dear Jodl of 2001,

Hello there. Got your message. Though am not sure if the letter was meant for me or for some future version of us, the Jodl of 2011 maybe?

You threw a non-biodegradable mineral bottle to the sea? Tsk tsk.. your passionate environmentalist friends would crucify you. Better make it up for Mother Earth. Go plant kamachile or santol or any fruit-bearing tree in the backyard after reading this. And I mean it.

No, that bottle was never picked up. You failed to include the fourth scenario: saving a draft of the message in your journal and reading it a few years after.

An older, bolder and rather exhibitionist version of yourself (C’est moi) posted it on the net. Now the whole cyberspace knows what a sappy person you are. Tsk tsk tsk… Kidding.

The year now is 2006. We are five years apart. It’s kinda weird writing to you. I mean I don’t have any idea how to send this message to you ( time machines are not yet invented and will probably not be in my lifetime, I mean our lifetime, …whatever). But I do hope you get this message wherever you are in this time-space continuum. (Geez this is really weird, kinda like talking to yourself with a dose of Einstein and Wormholes and Twilight Zone kind of stuff… weird but kewl !)

At any rate today is JANUARY 20. At this date in your time, you, Aims, Meann and your first year class are in Davao for the Art Appreciation Field Trip.

How can I forget? You were checking in at the hotel when it was announced on national TV that Erap has stepped down and Gloria Macapagal Arroyo was sworn in as the new President. You screamed at the top of your lungs like some lunatic. Indeed it was a great time of rejoicing for the whole nation. Cory Aquino, Raul Roco, Loren Legarda, Franklin Drilon, Teofisto Guingona and GMA were crying and hugging each other at the Edsa Shrine. Mabuhay ang Edsa 2! Once again the Filipinos have proven the power of unity.

But your gut instincts were right bro. You knew it was too good to be true and that it would be a matter of time when politics would rear its ugly head. If I could tell you now how things went for the next 5 years you will be amazed.

I won’t give you the details but here are some hints.

A person would make a supreme sacrifice kuno only to make bawi.

GMA will choose a Vice president who will eventually be her antagonist.

One Antri-Estrada senator who cried copiously for committee refusal of opening the envelop eventually sided with Estrada in the 2004 elections.

A movie actor who once said he would never join politics would be a presidential candidate in 04 elections.

On hindsight, a person who could come up with an equation that would predict how politicians would align after a certain period, would be a friggin’ genius. I bet a predictive equation (assuming one can be derived) involving the factors and uncertainties and extraneous variables in politics would far beat the equations of Chaos Theory, Quantum Mechanics and Thermodynamics combined.

Wow am amazed with the unpredictability of politics Go figure bro!

I didn’t realize this letter is already getting long. Anyway I’m really enjoying this.

Know what? I suck. I mean it has been five years since you planned of buying that dream house. My progress so far? Zilch. Nada. Zero . I wish I could send you a winning combination of Lotto or something. And when you win, buy that beachfront property in Taringting you’ve been eyeing since high school.

But then again if you win, that would alter drastically the time- space continuum. The Jodl of 2006 would be a filthy rich millionaire and that means I, a corporate slave, an ordinary aliping saguiguilid would cease to exist (gasp!). No sir, I wish to continue my existence, worthless it may seem, so I guess I will not send you the winning numbers after all.

Remember the 6 degree theory mentioned by Chris Montemanyak ? That one can link to anyone in this planet through a max of 6 connections? Well that was the underlying concept of a revolutionary thing right now called Friendster.. You’ll get to know it in 2004 and it will somehow change your life. Plus there’s this exciting thing called blogging. You’ll love it. Just like the journal emails you’ve been sending from Mindanao. Only this time it’s like writing your journal naked in front of a big audience hehe.

You will get to have your closure in due time. Just be patient. Friendster would be the key to your closure. I know it has been a tough time for you. Finally deciding to give up the teaching job to go back to Manila and pursue your dream …our dream. I can’t guarantee you the ride will be smooth. The withdrawal would really be hard but it’s for the best. Sometimes it’s the pain, the emptiness and the longing that make us whole. ( Naks, ayan nagpakaprofound na naman kuno ako)

Still the romantic fool eh? I mean come on, you threw a message in a bottle right? That’s sooooo 20^th century. It’s the 21^st century already bro. People no longer believe in soul mates or destiny or messages in a bottle. The one person you’re born to love forever? Come on, get real! And you’re already in your 20s. Grow up!

Ok ok. Sorry. I may have sounded harsh. I was only testing your mettle.

Let’s face it. How many guys at your age throw some sappy message in a bottle? Probably one in a thousand. Probably even one in a million. You see, my point exactly. You’re unique. Nah, weird is the more appropriate term.

You’re special… . No kidding. Kumbaga sa child, you’re a special child. hehehe

Kumbaga sa mga birds, you’re a Pithecophaga jefferyi a dying breed.

Kumbaga sa animal kingdom you’re an endangered species. Doomed for extinction.

So you see, the odds are against you. Better change with the changing times. Be more practical. Give it up man. If you want to survive go with the flow. Succumb to the banalities of life. Believe me… it’s liberating.

There now. I was just testing how strong you would hold on to your ideals. You don’t think for one sec I would forsake you, do you? A lot may find your act of throwing that message in a bottle, pathetic if not mawkish, foolish if not weird.

But you know what? I am proud of what you did. Many many years from now I would have a wonderful story to tell my kids.

Yes the world is no longer a romantic place. It is a harsh place for dreamers like you. For dreamers like us. But so long as there are people who see the romance and the possibilities, there is still hope.

Yes I have received your message and the message is clear. There is hope.

Hold your head up young man. I’m proud of you.

Jodl of 2006

P.S. You will be held up in an FX in the year 2002. That’s the closest thing you’ll have for a life-threatening experience. It will make you appreciate life more. I don’t want to alter much the time-space continuum but if you could just save the phone numbers of your 2 unknown text mates in another file it’ll be great. I have forever lost them.

Job Posting, Brain Boosting, Blog Bugging

1. Just this morning a friend told me that job street sent him a notice of this opening. Small world...It turns out that this was a posting for the job Ijust vacated.. hehe.. Any of you guys interested to handle Lean Manufacturing? Do send me a note I could send you the contact details of HR.

2. Check this out. Multitasking can be detrimental to the quality of your work. ( I wish I could tell this to my boss) Coffee can boost your mental performance (aside from babe watching, that's one more reason to hang out in Starbucks). Grey cells need to work out too just like your body. (reminds me of a Far Side cartoon last Sunday). Go grab a copy of TIME Magazine Jan 23, 2006. Lots of useful articles there on and for the brain.

3. As part of my New Year’s Resolution I shall be updating my blog at least once a week (if only to make sense of my boring life). Sorry if Friendster has this annoying program that sends Blog update notices, inundating your mailboxes. But hey better Friendster notices eating up your space than those pesky chain letters about a kid dying from cancer (shouldn’t that kid be dead by now, that letter was circulating since the 90's), or some religious stuff that makes you feel guilty and eternally damned if you break the chain or some suspicious proposal for fund transfer from Mlukesh Kwebagabu of Uganda.

Now here's a tongue twister. Try saying the title of this entry three time in 5 seconds. Cheers !

Goodbye Wrigley

Sigh….

Life indeed is a journey.

Last Friday, I capped off a one-and-a-half-year journey in Wrigley. Though short-lived it has been a wonderful and meaningful detour. ( BTW, It was a Friday the 13^th hmmm, it seems that significant moments of my life happen on this day)

I have accepted an exciting offer from my previous company, GE, to take on an expanded role of Environment Health and Safety Manager for 3 locations plus of course the role of a Six Sigma Black Belt

Most of my Wrigley colleagues were still in shock and in denial about my decision. I told them that it had been a tough and painful decision. I too was overwhelmed by the turn of events.

Looking back I could cite at least 2 reasons why I passed by Wrigley. One, maybe God wanted me to be an instrument to link two souls together. I’ve set up a blind date for a Wrigley colleague and a close friend from DPS. The two are now very much in love with each other.

Another, maybe He wanted me to meet two souls who would remind me of an unclosed chapter of my life. I’ve met 2 persons who were former officemates of ‘supposedly THE ONE’. It led me eventually to have my long due closure

At any rate, “Consummatum est”, the journey has come to an end and it’s time for me to move on.

The lines from a song by Jose Mari Chan come to my mind…

We’re on the road.

We move from place to place.

And oftentimes when we’re

About to call it home

We’ve had to move along

Life is a constant change

And nothing stays the same

Oh no…

Message in a (Mineral Water) Bottle

Five years ago today, I threw a message in a bottle in the sea of Zamboanga on my way to Gen San.

As a kid who grew up beside the sea I had this fascination of casting bottles to the sea. The possibility of my message reaching places far beyond my sight thrilled me so much. I guess five years ago it thrilled me still hence the rather mawkish act. ( I got the idea of sending a note to one’s self from Richard Bach)

Fortunately I had a draft of the message meant for me in my journal. It’s kinda funny reading it now, exactly five years from when it was written. It’s like going back in time and talking to my younger self. I hope I am not betraying my younger self if I posted it here. After all the message is probably meant for me now.

Jan 03, 2001

Dear Jodl,

Hello! In case you have forgotten you sent this letter to yourself in the year 2001. I am writing this letter on board MS Ezekiel Moreno of Negros Navigation. You are taking this trip to Gensan where you will drop off on your way to Dole Philippines School. This is your second year of teaching in that school.

I will put this letter in a plastic bottle ( would have wanted to put this in a wine bottle but none is available). I could think of 3 possible fates of this message. One this message in a bottle would never be found. Two, this message might be found but it would never reach you. Three, this message will be found by someone who will then send this to you. It must be the will of God then that this letter reaches you. ( Hmmm I guess I forgot to include the 4^th scenario, saving a draft of the message and reading it again a few years after hehe)

I don’t know why I’m sending this letter. Maybe it’s my way of assuring that I have hope for the future. I just wish that wherever you are right now you have achieved whatever your heart desired. Right now I might be at the crossroads of my life. I still have that dream of building a house beside the sea. I still dream of that magical moment when I’ll get to meet my soul mate. Have you found her already? How I wish things could be the other way around, that you are the one sending this message to me assuring me that things are going to be fine.

I hope you are happy where you are. I feel like succumbing now to the banalities of life. But I guess if you are happy, then I have made the right decisions. I am longing for that moment when I would finally become you.

Wherever you are don’t forget that you were once me. I’m at a loss right now. I hope that when you receive this letter you would already have found yourself.

Bon voyage. Enjoy this journey called life.

All the best,

Jodl of year 2001