On dawn of Wednesday

I should have been asleep by now.

Should have been.

Apparently, I am still wide awake. I actually feel more awake at 2:30 A.M. than 9 A.M.

For the past hour, I have been browsing stuff that I have never done in maybe about half a year.  I am now being real about my attempt to expand my territory and look beyond the horizon. There are potential targets, though I know very well, it is still too early to aim at them. I still have months to count, hundreds of stories to write about, tens of thousands of nagging stories and gossips to hear, and millions of explicit and surreptitious insults to bear with. And a deep -- very deep -- well of patience and optimism to dig on earth where all I can hear are vague, fearful voices of all sorts.

Yes, I should have been asleep by now.

Should have been.

But I feel a lump in my throat that wants to burst into tears and dry up as humid vapor in cold dawn.

I want to cry. And shout my heart out.

Will you heed my pleading?

A letter to a fighter, a brave warrior

To a fighter, a brave warrior,

We're off to the same but different journey in the coming weeks. We may be together, but not actually. Our story carries on with you and me as the protagonist dealing with several antagonists in our set (and many others in our own circle). We will be together everyday -- but majority of the time we will be in our mutually exclusive worlds. You will be fighting your own fight, and I will be fighting mine.

I am seeing events when I want to take a step forward and lay my hand on thy antagonist and use any power I have to keep you away from harm. They may also be those when you want to get a message of love across through bold gestures. Life may be tough when we want to battle it out together in a way our hearts know how, but we know, we would have to hold back.

We can lend a hand to each other at times -- when valid reason permits. In some realms, nonetheless, we have to keep distance.

We will be fighting the same fight in our own worlds. We will meet halfway in the jungle which we -- you and me -- apparently don't like to be in. We will both have our similar and mutually exclusive reasons why we are evading the honor and obligation that come in darting into that treacherous territory.

I'm pleading to Heaven to endow us the right perspective and the values that we have to bear in our coat of arms to make it through the jungle alive and even stronger. You, tougher and wiser on your end. I, braver and wiser on my end. You and I, tougher, braver, and wiser on ours.

Fears are still lurking around like a bask of crocodiles, leap of leopards, and a nest of vipers ready to prey on me. I fear to lose in this battle -- that you will lose in your own, lose in mine, and lose in ours.

But we have to catch those distracting predators, seal them in a cage, and tell them in their face that they are no match compare to what God has in store for me and you. And us. Adversities may break us everyday, but it will make us better, bolder, stronger, and wiser in the long run. It will pack us with grit, determination and willpower to carry on with whatever path we choose to take.

We will wrestle with the antagonists of our own story everyday, but always, we will meet in the end. And tell each other that everything will be alright. All is well that ends well.

Right in the middle of the war, if we got wounded from a firefight, we just have to close our eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Pray. Then, fire back.

We will sometimes get tired and walk towards the edge of an end. But we should choose to close our eyes again. Inhale. Exhale. Pray. Then, walk back and carry on.

The light at the end of the tunnel is not too far. A good end is not far. God has promised victory for you and me. He will meet us in the end.

Let's hang on. Hawak-kamay.

My fighter, my brave warrior, Heaven is seeing us through.

Tomorrow...

No one can go back, but everyone can go forward.

And tomorrow, when the sun rises, all you have to say to yourselves is:
I am going to think of this day as the first day of my life.

I will look on the members of my family with surprise and amazement, glad to discover that they are by my side, silently sharing that much-talked-about, but little understood thing called love.

I will pass a beggar, who will ask me for money. I might give it to him or I might walk past thinking that he will only spend it on drink, and as I do, I will hear his insults and know that it is simply his way of communicating with me.

I will pass someone trying to destroy a bridge. I might try to stop him or I might realise that he is doing it because he has no one waiting for him on the other side and this is his way of trying to fend off his own loneliness.

I will look at everything and everyone as if for the first time, especially the small things that I have grown used to, quite forgetting the magic surrounding them. The desert sands, for example, which are moved by an energy I cannot understand – because I cannot see the wind.

Instead of noting down things I’m unlikely to forget on the notebook I always carry with me, I will write a poem. Even if I have never written one before and even if I never do so again, I will at least know that I once had the courage to put my feelings into words.

When I reach a small village that I know well, I will enter it by a different route. I will be smiling, and the inhabitants will say to each other: ‘He must be mad, because war and destruction have left the soil barren.’

But I will keep smiling, because it pleases me to know that they think I am mad. My smile is my way of saying: ‘You can destroy my body, but not my soul.’

Tonight, before leaving, I’m going to spend time sorting through the pile of things I never had the patience to put in order. And I will find that a little of my history is there.

All the letters, the notes, cuttings and receipts will take on their own life and have strange stories to tell me – about the past and about the future. All the different things in the world, all the roads travelled, all the entrances and exits of my life.

I am going to put on a shirt I often wear and, for the first time, I am going to notice how it was made. I am going to imagine the hands that wove the cotton and the river where the fibres of the plant were born. I will understand that all those now invisible things are a part of the history of my shirt.

And even the things I am accustomed to – like the sandals which, after long use, have become an extension of my feet – will be clothed in the mystery of discovery.

Since I am heading off into the future, I will be helped by the scuff marks left on my sandals from when I stumbled in the past.

May everything my hand touches and my eyes see and my mouth tastes be different, but the same. That way, all those things will cease to be a still life and instead will explain to me why they have been with me for such a long time; and they will reveal to me the miracle of re-encountering emotions worn smooth by routine.
 

                                     - Paulo Coelho, THE MANUSCRIPT FOUND IN ACCRA

Grazie, 2013

On the 30^th day of December, a friend and I were talking over a bottle of wine. We were having a recap of what transpired during the year that passed: what took place beginning January 2013, how we began our year, how we carried on, and how we would eventually end another 365 and a quarter days of our lives.

While I munched on a slice of parmesan-filled pizza and took a sip of wine, I went on a trip down the memory lane.

If 2013 were a person, it would have two faces: that of a sweet lady and another of a tough man.

My first few months of 2013 were both planned and a surprise.

I began the year looking forward to a dear friend’s wedding where I would also serve as her maid of honor. Being her maid, I delved into every aspect of the preparation beginning from the dresses that would be worn for the pre-nup shoot, the storyline of the pre-nup, keeping in touch with the bridesmaids, arranging the bridal shower, keeping a backbone of support for both the bride and the groom -- the list was endless. Every detail was fun, though I had to admit I was also feeling gloomy throughout because I would be losing a very dear friend with whom I have spent sleepless nights with for some random conversation of anything under the big round moon. By losing, I neither mean dying nor moving out of the country. What I meant was: she was finally “settling down” in a new realm while I would be left in the world of single people who would always appear in pursuit of either love or adventure.

My girlfriend Ruthie and I before the ceremony

My body seemed to be both happy and sad as well. The night before her big day, I was suffering from whooping cough. I even buried myself under the comforter just to try to shield her from whatever virus I was emitting in our room. Luckily though, when I had my first ever maid of honor speech,  my lungs seemed to have cooperated. I nailed my speech for the newly wed couples, darling. Beat that, lungs.

The events were all planned (well, except for that whooping cough on my friend’s wedding day). What was unplanned? Our family’s trip to Hong Kong. This was one of the sweetest faces of my year. It was exactly a week before my friend’s wedding.

It's the Hong Kong Disneyland, baby!

The view from the Ocean Park tower

The loves of my life

Exploring Lantau Island via some 30 km cable car ride

In March, Papa urged Mama and my brother to finally get their passports while I renewed mine. He said at first passports were basic ID’s and so it would be important for them to have theirs. Little did we know he was already planning an out-of-the-country trip. We learned about it probably a month before our vacation.

We went to Lantau island, the Hongkong Ocean Park, and Disneyland. For four nights and three days, we were together round the clock. Papa would even make us coffee for our midnight snack (he would rarely do that back home because he would always be out for work). I was beyond happy. One prayer ticked off my seven dreams in my Novena to God’s love.

Another of the sweetest faces of my year was getting promoted at work – not once, but twice. This was among my biggest breakthroughs. From being a writer to a senior writer (promotion #1)  up to a junior producer (promotion #2). Everything seemed to have barreled past by me. During the first week of October, our boss personally talked to us and told us that we have already been promoted since the first day of the month.

The producers during our holiday gathering

The first thing in my mind was: this was never what I wanted. I wanted the other way. Nonetheless, I was still thankful. I was thankful for my boss who always got our back and who always believed in us even when others don’t. If there were tough faces in our workplace, my boss would both have a tough and sweet face. Tough love for us to learn, but sweet guidance to help us climb the corporate ladder. After all, what we were in has always been a jungle of sorts.

My closest friends surprised me at home on my birthday. And beginning June to December, I only had two things in mind: gratitude and love.

Thankful for all the people who have taken part in my year. And grateful for all the love I have been receiving.

And the items ticked off my bucket list?

• Visit the Pink Sisters chapel and have reflection and/or prayer time there.
• Maintain my blog (well, partly I did).
• Beef up my savings.
• Do zipline!

Conquered my fear! 300 m zipline with the awesome view of Taal lake!

Among my answered prayers?

• Travel abroad with my family
• Serve with my family at the Feast (taking part in the offertory a week after my birthday)

On the 30^th day of December, a dear friend and I were talking over a bottle of wine. We were having a recap of what transpired during the year that passed.

We realized how blessed we have been beginning January 2013 until we end another 365 and a quarter days of our lives.

As we exited the restaurant, the waiters thanked us and bade us goodbye, "Grazie."

Cheers to another bountiful, love-filled, and successful year.

Thank you, Lord.

Grazie, 2013.

-----------------

And as you all can see, the ball has stopped half way to its perch. It's suspended there to remind us before we pop the champagne and celebrate the new year, to stop, and reflect on the year that has gone by, to remember both our triumphs and our missteps, our promises made and broken, the times we opened ourselves up to great adventures... or closed ourselves down for fear of getting hurt. Because that's what new year's all about: getting another chance, a chance to forgive, to do better, to do more, to give more, to love more, and to stop worrying about what if... and start embracing what will be. So when that ball drops at midnight, and it will drop, let's remember to be nice to each other, kind to each other, and not just tonight but all year long.

Sometimes it feels like there are so many things in this world we can't control. Earthquakes, floods, reality shows... But it's important to remember the things that we can. Like forgiveness, second chances, fresh starts... Because the one thing that turns the world from the longing place to a beautiful place... is love. Love and any of its forms. Love gives us hope... Hope for the New Year. That's what New Year's Eve is to me. Hope and a great party!

- New Year's Eve (2011)

Struggling, to begin with

I've struggled so much in writing the first line of this post. I did.

I usually get a boost from music, but I neither have my iPad right now or a good earphone that's compatible with my phone for a good, spontaneous, beautiful sound trip.

So I can't come up with a good introduction to let you know that despite the random, confusing, and baffling thoughts that are running in my mind, I am grateful. I have been counting my blessings daily since Monday. Today, I am already on my 4th day of my 30 days of gratitude.


Day 2 (November 26, Tuesday)

My officemate friend took a day off from work to have a check-up regarding her recurring dizziness. I was the only producer left for our afternoon news bits running every 15 minutes. We only had two writers; so technically, on this day, we were only three brains processing news bits to come up with two to three-minuter broadcast news productions. We began the grind at 2 pm and wrapped up our tasks at 5 pm.

I could say that even though we were apparently lacking in manpower, we did our job well. Every script was written well. Every production went by smoothly. There was not a single complaint from our anchor or any violent comment from any of our bosses. The two writers, Sarah and Luigi, cooperated well.

At the end of our Tuesday news bit production, I had to thank my two writers for doing well and a job well done. We were a good team. I was thankful for them, for everyone in the control room who had a hand in the on-air job, for our production manager who entrusted us with our job. I thanked God for my job and the dream He has placed in my heart that led me to where I was.

My family was well. All my loved ones were fine. I had a great, loving relationship. I was thankful for a tiring yet fulfilling day. Nothing I could ask for.


Day 3 (November 27, Wednesday)

As our coffee put it, "Good day."

I began the day in good light. I had my daily coffee and breakfast bond with Erika whom I call honey or baby. The day went by as it has always been, not until afternoon came, and my a cloud of doubt, fear, and anxiety cast my heart again.

Queen and I were prepared for a breaking news. We informed the anchor and everyone in the control room. Perhaps everyone knew what they were supposed to do. Not until someone sat in the control room and seemed to have taken the helm at producing the developing story. We surely knew what we would do, but this voice would mumble and command words that no one could counter; so we just abode by whatever she told us. Yet again, the command was ours -- is ours -- so when things went wrong, we were the one who answered for it.

That incident seemed to have creased or stained our clean and happy sheet of paper. Nonetheless, we chose to move on because it would do us no good if we would just dwell on it. So we continued with our afternoon obligations, and shortly before our primetime newscast began to air, one of our bosses gave us a waffle treat. A perk of having a friendly and cool boss haha :)

I had banana peanut. Jade had caramel. Queen had cream cheese. We had a great snack time together!

Before I capped off the day, I met a college friend for a quick yet sweet catch-up. It sort of turned into a pre-quarterlife crisis talk. She had just transferred to a new company whose office happened to be just a floor away from ours (reason why we finally found a chance to meet after over a year). She was missing her old job, and perhaps, the people in it, or most probably, a guy with whom she became really close. Based on her sharing, their relationship was a one-way love (where the love was coming from no one else but her). Anyway, in a nutshell, they didn't become lovers. Just friends.

I shared with her my current status and how happy I was. I also told her how I have been thinking venturing into a new job within the industry I have been accustomed to. We talked about our dreams, retirement plans, and the likes. More or less a really mature talk right there.

I was thankful for my daily morning coffee with my honey. I was grateful for people who challenge me to raise the bar and teach me to stand my ground. I was thankful for our boss' waffle treat. I was thankful for my night-talk with my friend.

I was thankful for everything.

I am thankful for all.

30 Days of Gratitude: Day 1

I woke up to my usual morning lullaby that would never fail me to pull me up from my bed. I went to the office early -- thanks to the MRT that lovingly took part with my bagong buhay wag na ma-late (please) at magtipid na (please) goal. Everything was falling in the right place, when something seemed to have fallen out of the way. I received a text message from our executive producer:

"May emergency sa house. Di ako aabot... Text ko na lang later sina... kung makahabol ako sa... Tnx. Cc: Jam...."

Out of instinct, I kept my cool and chose to go by the day as it has been in the past months. Breakfast. Kisses. Hugs. Kulitan. Back to workstation. Do the day's line-up. Consult people. Confirm details. Cross-read news. Proofread scripts. Write (or rewrite) scripts. Follow-up stories. Ask for scripts. Seek guidance. Seek advice. Compromise. Write. Doubt. Pursue your work. Persist. Insist. Give in. Argue. Stand your ground. Argue. Question. Answer questions. Lead. Work well.

As one of our show's producers, I had to fill in the big shoes our E.P. left us for the day and assume responsibilities that could -- more or less -- make or break my career, my heart, and my dreams. Yet sticking to my instinct, I kept my cool. The day went by. 

We set sail. Blessed enough with a good day and a great team, we set sail together. It wasn't perfect. It has never been.

But we did it. We completed our noontime news program's production smoothly.

No loud voices at the end of the show. Quiet exit. And you knew, all things were ok.

Except for one (or maybe two). But that would hardly count.

We did it. And for that, I'm thankful,

Thank you for today's grace, Lord. Thank you in advance for better days.

Hold our hands forever. :)

No tallies. No countdowns.

How many bus rides,
how many spaghetti meals,
how many ice creams will I still have
with you?

How many more chances can I play
with the mole on your left hand?
How many times I can pinch
your fluffy belly and
poke your love handles
that I've ever loved to cuddle with?

How many more instances can I
hug you from behind,
or fiddle with your soft hair
or pull it -- just because?

How many more times will I go home
with your scent sticking onto my hands,
arms, and shirt,
or even to my water jug
which I've always wondered how you do so?

How many more mornings
will I wake up to your voice,
or laugh with you over Winnie and Piglet,
Tom and Jerry, Barney and Tweety,
and other innocent cartoons,
or simply adore Sulley and Mike
and wrap them around our arms
-- for real?

How many more chances
can we sing together
and blurt our hearts out to songs
that speak of our joy,
"Now that I have you?"

How many more times will we sit
side by side heeding to silence,
or talk over the phone
amid quietude at night
or in the morning?

How many more phone calls, messages,
e-mails, tweets, sweet words,
surprises, caresses, clingwraps,
tight embraces, gentle cuddles,
and kisses?

I feel like we're on a race with time
where I'd rather choose to lose
and come last at the finish line.
Looks as if we're trying to mangle
with the world where each day,
week, and month is like
a ticking time bomb
that can go off anytime
before our own eyes.