A Day with my Long Lost Friend (LLF)

LLF: Where do you want to eat?

ME: Anywhere. How about you?

LLF: Not really hungry yet. Maybe some Chinese?

ME: How about we try to see if there's any nice place on the other side?

LLF: Yeah, okay.  Hmmm. Smells good, which one is that?

ME: Are you crazy? You're smelling Jollibee over there.

LLF: Really. Wait, this already happened to us before, didn't it?

ME: No. That was something else you had to do at Jollibee.

LLF: That was different.  This happened to us before.

ME: Yeah I guess. It's been a long time. Remember when we drove around the city for an hour trying to find a restaurant and we ended up going back to that place down the road from my house?

Yeah, somewhere in our 18-year friendship. Has it really been 18? Well, 15 years of taking care of me til the time he had officially turned me over to my beloved hubby (of 3 years now). So yeah, 18. Pretty much.

LLF: :I'm thinking, where did I keep your old letters?

ME: I don't know, yours are in a box in my memory chest.

LLF: Didn't I give them back to you?

ME: No way! So, how's your baby?

LLF: Oh, he's cute and he talks a lot now.

ME: I wish hubby and I can have our own baby too soon. How's your wife?

LLF: Good.  We're okay.  We have our share of ups and downs. Things are a lot better.

ME: Yeah, same here. It's all good.  He takes care of me. He knows I'm out with you. He said hi by the way.  How about her? Does she know you're with me?

LLF: No. But I'll tell her if she asks.

ME: Alright.

We had pizza, fried chicken and spaghetti and diet coke. Then Starbucks.

ME: You still smoke?

LLF: You bet I still do. How about you?

ME: Not really.  Like the usual, maybe occasionally....socially. Hey, do you need to go back now?

LLF: No, it's okay. Wow, hot coffee on a hot day.

ME: Nah, just wanted something to drink slowly so we can talk some more.

LLF: Where do you want to go?

ME: Anywhere.

LLF: Let's go to the Comic books and toys.

ME: Wow, you still collect those? You remind me of this movie...

LLF: 40-year Old Virgin?

ME: Yes.

LLF: Thank goodness, I'm neither both.

ME: HAHA.

LLF: Friends said I should start collecting them bat mobiles too. Kinda expensive.

ME: Hey, I gave you one for Christmas many years ago.

LLF: I know. You ready?

ME: Okay. Let me call my hubby first. 

LLF: Sure.

Hi, mahal. I'm still out. We're at the Comic book shop now. How are you doing? I love you. Hey, can I buy something? ("Go ahead, you still got money?") Yeah, thanks, mahal. I love you.

ME: Come with me, I'll get me the Dancing Queen necklace. Hubby said yes.

LLF: Okay.

ME: You think it's okay to get this?

LLF: It looks nice. If it makes you happy, go!

ME: Thanks.  How about your wife? What does she like?

LLF: Girly-girl stuff. Like the shoes you saw and wanted earlier? NOT that stuff. =) You gave me an idea, I'll have a necklace made for her with my name on it and the baby's.

ME: That will be cool. 

It was like how it used to be, walking and talking. We checked out the other mall.

ME: You see that? I like the beef in that Korean Place.

LLF: You wanna have that for dinner?

ME: You want? Sure!

LLF: Let's walk some more first.

At the Korean Place...

ME: Let me buy dinner this time. Just buy me coffee later.

LLF: Coffee again. You'll be up all night.

ME: I know. I'm always up. Has it always been like that?

LLF: Yup. You can't sleep and sometimes the coffee makes your heart palpitate.

ME: Really? Oh yeah huh. You mean I've been that way since forever?

LLF: Yes.

ME: Just buy me the Takoyaki balls then.

LLF: Okay, we'll do that before I bring you home.

ME: Hey, can you have something signed by Manny Pacquiao for my hubby?

LLF: You want one? I'll give a poster to you. I have my boxing gloves signed by him too. But now, I can't use it.

ME: That's something I want to try...you know, boxing. But they said, boxing might break my fingers. I don't want that because I play the piano. And I don't want to be all that shaky that I can't draw. Do you still draw?

LLF: Yes. Sometimes. I made one for my wife recently, I think I'm still okay at it.

ME:  I stopped sketching for a while. You know my ex burned all the sketchpads I had since third grade right? That really hurt. But I'll try again. My hubby bought me this nice sketchpad so hopefully I can start again.

LLF: I made one of you from your graduation photo a long time ago. I'm thinking maybe I'll give that to you as a going away present. I'll look for it.

ME: Really? I made one of you a long time ago too. I'll try to find it.

It was getting late and it was time to go...

ME: Remember when we used to walk here?

LLF: Yeah. This is such a nice day.  Something different from what I always do. I don't mean it's better. But it's nice. It's different.

ME: Yeah, me too. So, are you going to send me off at the airport?

LLF: No.

ME: Why not?

LLF: You know I hate goodbyes.

Paranoid Much?!?!?

I've been mastering the art of being a couch potato all week.  And so yesterday, I was in a half-vegetative, half-all-headachy-from-all-that-sleepin state when I got a text message from my friend who I haven't seen for eons.  He said, "Hi Clarisse, I dreamt about you yesterday. I miss you and I hope to see you soon."  I didn't reply immediately because my brain was completely vegged out and I couldn't think of something nice and sweet to say yet (ooops, didn't I promise last Easter that I will text people back right away? uhrm...uhrm sorry but I'm really trying).


One sweet corn on the cob, a glass of iced tea and several rounds of FRIENDS reruns on DVD later, he texted again, "I really miss you.  I don't know why, maybe I'm going to die soon or something."


That left my now half-corn-stuffed, half-comatose self feeling spooked and disgruntled, yes both.  So I started typing back. No, I was too lazy for that so I decided to call instead.  It turns out, he's doing well and fine but yeah, he misses me.  We had a nice conversation catching up on the snippets of our lives that we have missed for not getting in touch --eighty percent of which is actually my fault.  Then we circled back to his message.  If something bad was bound to happen and he couldn't shake off that ugly feeling, why would he want to talk to just me. Why not hunt down his other friends as well?... Maybe it wasn't going to be him......uh oh maybe it was me!?  Darn.  He already did this to me in third grade and it took me the whole of fourth grade to get rid of such paranoid thoughts and morbid fears. Darn, again.


In the end, we just laughed it off. I don't think God will allow it anyway.  But it sure felt good knowing that someone who is possibly on his last day on earth would count me in as one of his last wishes. THAT FELT REALLY NICE.


But boy, I made him do my favorite ritual to ward off bad luck --- that is, to spin clockwise three times. We both did. That was totally retarded. Hey, I have my quirks too, okay?


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






                                           INCIDENTALLY...


I want to share one of my favorite prayers to you guys. For me, it is a sure fire way of wiping out ugly thoughts and fears. The Lord is my refuge and He is always there for me, and with me no matter what. Here's the Psalm 23 for you all...




The Lord is my Shepherd;
I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil:
for THOU art with me;

Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:

Thou anointest my head with oil;
My cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

So tell me...

WILLTHERESTOFYOURLIFEBETHEBESTOFYOURLIFE?

What's wrong with this picture?

This is my bad boy when nobody's watchin'   =P

Rosemarie Ann

       

        I love people-watching, strangers most especially. I love observing how people live their lives and I love the challenge of seeing beyond the smile, the frown or hopefully that poker-face.  In my Friendster profile, I wrote down "peeping in people's windows while driving by". Yes, I enjoy that. Usually, I am able to have a glimpse of everyday life and conjure little stories in my head. I can't explain it enough. I get a high with these things.  It's not really being nosy. It's not even about sizing them up. It's not about comparing my own life to them.  I think I am just enjoying the world the way we are supposed to.  To actually pay attention to the rest of us in this world, to stop, and look, and listen. And hopefully touch their hearts any which way we can. Or simply to enjoy how unique all lives can be. Or how similar they are sometimes.

        Recently, I have discovered that I can do this not just in my own neighborhood but all over the world as well, without leaving my chair.  I have discovered the joys of MySpace.  I made up this rule with myself:  Friendster for real friends, MySpace for strangers.  Friendster is my home, and MySpace is when I feel like running away.  It is my hotel...my party. Whenever I'm free, I click on profiles and see what people have to say about themselves.  There are things I can relate to, and things I simply don't agree with. And if I transcend beyond the superficiality of it all, I know in my heart, I am learning more things about the world than any classroom can offer...through things that people say, truths or untruths.

        But if there is anything wonderful I learned lately, it is how someone from across the globe, is leading a life that is almost like mine, with a personality and outlook that is almost 100% me.  I have come face to face with a parallel universe that is miles away from me.

        I am an avid link-clicker.  I stumbled into her profile one day as I was clicking my time away, hopping from one page to another. I read through it, and it just amazed me how similar we are in a thousand ways.  It was like my own profile, re-written with a different set of words. If I walk you through it piece by piece, you're going to think it's creepy. I sent her a friendly message and she wrote back saying, "I viewed your profile, oh goodness we are so alike!".  We’re in each other's list now.

        I don't know who's luckier or happier. I think we both are cruising through life good enough. We have the same way of looking at life anyway.  Sometimes, I am tempted to think, wow, someone is playing SIMS up there. Or sometimes I feel like asking, "God, have you run out of ideas?". But that would be too cynical for someone like me, though at first, I was in a searching frenzy looking for possible things that would make Rosemarie Ann and I different, aside from how we look ofcourse.  (Well, let us not forget how awesome it is that there are no two exactly identical faces on this planet).

        Getting to know Rosemarie Ann better made me realize that it is the other circumstances and consequences in our lives that set the difference.  Hence, I am reminded that HE up there has a special plan, a special script and plot in store for each one of us. I realize that no matter how alike we may seem, God blesses us with our own unique set of experiences. And yes, a unique set of people to touch our lives --- like our own family and friends.

       Rosemarie Ann may be enjoying a good movie but it's not with Raquel, she may have enjoyed some talks over Starbucks coffee but not the same way I did with May Ann. She may love dancing and working out, but her fitness buddies aren’t Angie and Noreen. She may be in love with someone, but it isn’t my husband Aldred. We may be both happy with our families, but I have my own Daddy, Mommy, and sisters Lissa and Trina. Plus all my other friends who truly care about me...Ali, Florence, Dondee, Yvah, Dave, Peter, Will, Jem, Arnold, my former classmates at DLSU, co-workers in Maxicare and TutorTime, and a lot more relatives and friends that might take up all of this blogspace if I mention each one. 

        This is what makes the big difference.  My family and friends set me apart.  These people make me unique and special... how they love me, or how I love them back. Thank you, people. Thank you, God.

PS. I’m sure and happy, somewhere out there, Rosemarie Ann is grateful in the same way too.

déjà vu

For those who have read my previous blog.

This "girly-girl-duh-it-can-get-annoying-sometimes-attention-deficit" runs in my family.  I don't think we're stupid. Sometimes, our brains are too full of ideas hopping on top of one another (bright ones, hey!) or well, we're really just genetically flighty. 

After my sister's ugly encounter with my soap fiasco, we started going after the perfect solution.  But for some reason, both of us ended up getting sidetracked again.  She started surfing the net and I sank deep into my own world again reading "The Undomestic Goddess" (hmmm). The toilet slipped away from our consciousness. (read: forgotten)

Three hours later, my OTHER sister arrived. She went straight to the bathroom.  And then yelled "You guys are gross!".  She aimed for the flusher and before we could stop her and say..."hey wait, no...wai..." It happened again. Ooops.

Soap Happens

It’s a lazy Saturday morning. I’m at my sister’s.

Okay, so I used the bathroom.  The soap jumped from my hand, did a PLOOP! sound (wow, ploop – I like it, I like the challenge of writing sounds the way they actually sound), and slipped down into the deepest end of the ocean, hahaha. I tried to flush it down but the water rose and it scared the hell out of me.  What if I drown in my own *beep*. How do I get that thing out?

Here are my options:

1. Close my eyes, stick my hand in and try to reach for that bar of soap in that deep tunnel underneath the water. Nah, that’s too gross.  Plus, socializing with the rest of the debris in there isn’t exactly what my goals in life are made of.




2. Vacuum-push it with the toilet plunger.  But where is their frigging plunger?




3. Pretend that nothing happened and hopefully it melts on its own. But that may take a few days.

You know how easily I get sidetracked with things (me and my girly-girl-duh-sometimes-it-can-get-annoying-attention-deficit).  I was contemplating on the perfect solution for the toilet problem when I started talking to my sister, then we started viewing her new pictures and then spying on Friendster profiles, then I talked to Aldoy on the phone and then I told myself, “I can blog about this!” and so I started writing this one on her laptop.  Here’s the ugly part. I completely forgot about why I was contemplating about it in the first place.

Until I heard my sister scream…from the bathroom.

She “used” the toilet. And flushed.  And the water did a Niagara. No, more like Pasig River actually, garbage and all.

Well, soap happens…too.

Clarisse's Ultimate

Fried Galunggong. Instant Pansit Canton. Rice Tutong. Kikoman Soy Sauce.  Diet Coke. Heaven.

Dear "Notty",

I'M REAL (REMIX)
By: Jennifer Lopez, feat. Ja Rule

Note: There are about several versions of this song,
the lyrics below are from the downloaded version of the song,
aka: Murda Remix.

[Jennifer Lopez (Ja Rule)]
(Murder what's my motherfuckin' name?)
R-U-L-E (Blowin' back on this Mary Jane, I'm analyzin' the game)
And the game done chose me
(To bring pain to pussy niggas and pussy holders, one they're all the same)
Ever since you told me
(There's only room for two, I've been makin' less room for you)
Now only God can hold me
(Hug me, love me, judge me, the only nigga that hovers above me, holla)

I met so many men and
It's like their all the same
My appetite for lovin'
Is now my hunger pain

And when I'm feelin' sexy
Who's gonna comfort me?
My only problem is
Their insecurities

[1] - [Jennifer Lopez (Ja Rule)]
(Tired of bein' alone) Yeah, yeah
(Sick of arguin' on the phone) Yeah, yeah
(Are you tellin' all your friends) Yeah, yeah
(That your nigga don't understand) My love

[2] - [Jennifer Lopez (Ja Rule)]
Cause I'm real
(The way you walk, the way you move, the way you talk)
Cause I'm real
(The way you stare, the way you look, your style, your hair)
Cause I'm real
(The way you smile, the way you smell, it drives me wild)
Cause I'm real
And I can't go on without you

[Ja Rule]
Girl, I've been thinkin' bout this relationship
And I wanna know is this as good as it gets
Cause we've been through the worst times and the best times
But it was our time, even if it was part-time
Now they be lookin' at me, smilin' at me, laughin' like it wasn't happen'
But not knowin', that were growin' and we're gettin' married
Hard lovin' and straight thuggin'
Bitch, I ain't doin' this, shit for nuttin'
I'm here to get it poppin', hoppin, let's ride up in the Benz
Hair blowin' in the wind, sun glistenin' off my skin, hey
I'm nasty, heh, you know me
But you still don't fuck wit ya' baby

[Repeat 2]

[Jennifer Lopez]
Now people lovin' me and hatin' me, treatin' me ungratefully
But not knowin' that they ain't makin' or breakin' me
My life I live it to the limit and I love it
Now I can breathe again, baby, now I can breathe again

Now people screamin' what the deal with you and so and so
I tell them niggas, mind their biz, but they don't hear me though
Cause I live my life to the limit and I love it
Now I can breathe again, baby, now I can breathe again

[Repeat 1]

[Repeat 2 till end]

He Broke My Heart Today

It was all over the news.  Eugene Tejada, this young basketball player of the Purefoods PBA Team, met a freak accident on the hardcourt a few nights ago.  In a nutshell, he suffered from some spinal injuries that posed awful risks to his basketball career, or even to his future as an ordinary walking individual.

On the way to the hospital, I thought it would be a breeze to give him the cheer pillows me and Aldred got for him.  But to be actually standing by his bedside and talking to him crushed me.  He is laying flat on the bed with steel bars pulling on his head, him staring at the ceiling with his eyeglasses on, moving his hands once in a while, but with no single movement from the waist down.  I told him "Get up, 'gene.  We're all rooting for you." To which he replied softly, "No more basketball".  Our aunt also said "Remember, Eugene, I took care of you when you were small?" and he said, "Auntie, are you gonna take care of me again?"  There you go, a 6-footer fella radiating a little boy's uncertainty.

Now, that one made me cry.  He and I don't really go a long way, except for occasional partying and clubbing some nights at the town, and he being a special part of my wedding. But he and Aldred are like brothers.  And it's like we're one huge extended family unit that knew no conditions nor boundaries.  And so, seeing him like this just doesn't sit well in my scheme of things.  I knew about his big dreams.  This is one nice young man whose future gleamed of beautiful promises.  Will he ever recover fully?

You broke my heart today, 'Gene.  Please make my heart whole again.  Please get better.

A New Blow Job

         Gotcha! Can't wait to see what's in here? You dirty minds -- or is it just me? Tell me it isn't just me! Well, guess who has been getting special lip service from moi lately? My new ultra pinoy bamboo flute! (it says Original Filipino Bamboo Flute on the label).  It was a spur of the moment thing.  Maybe my muse has decided she had enough of me desperately trying to belt out "Sana'y Wala nang Wakas" on Videoke-- which happens to be my signature song, next to Madonna's La Isla Bonita (elgk!).  Hence, my sudden weird inspiration to learn the instrument.

            I grasped the finger and key basics pretty quick, thanks to my background in piano.  But blowing out the notes is a different story.  Right now, some of my notes are downright off-key ("Blow low notes softly, high notes forcefully...too-too-too-taa-taa-taa...") My C needs a lot of work.  Think fusion of fart and rubbershoes skidding on sticky concrete.  But hey, practice makes perfect.  Right?

             I'm happy I can play a few songs now.  Aldred says my "Row, Row, Row your Boat" still sucks.  Maybe he's joking. Maybe not.  =(  That's why it scares me to play at night for fear of bringing out the snakes from the bushes, or raising Mr. Levi Celerio from the grave, only for him to suffer from emphysema again.

             But I'm proud of my other pieces. I can play Bahay Kubo, Leron Leron Sinta, and Chit-chirit-chit Alibangbang.  PINOY FOLK SONG ROCKS!!!

            My favorite is "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" (the only song I can play with the violin) and I'm starting on Silent Night now.  Hopefully, I'll be in shape in time for Christmas.

Quote to live by: 

"LIVE AS IF YOU'LL DIE TOMORROW.  LEARN AS IF YOU'LL LIVE FOREVER" - Ghandi

Bitch...Doormat...Bitch...

I wrote this email to my friend last February, but I'm publishing it anyway, as a tribute to my cousin Rae.  Cheers to us beautiful and strong women of the clan...luv u, sistah!

Many years ago, I wasn’t really this outspoken.  I would usually remain meek, unassuming and hopefully invisible.  When trouble strikes, I would usually cry, draw heartrending things on my sketch pad, or write loooooong entries on my journal. 

Today, I am quick to defend my rights.  I am brave enough to speak up against injustice, confront and correct misconstrued ideas, and to assert my place in my relationships, and the rest of the world. 

I don’t know how I evolved.  Part of me feels that with my kind of spiritual footing, I should stay submissive and tolerant, at all times, at all costs.  Yet, I know it’s not healthy for my psyche.  It’s not healthy for my relationships.  It’s not healthy for the community. 

I found strength in my Masteral Studies in Pyschology in 1998.  School was Biopsychology 101 in real life while my brain was the main specimen for dissection. The whole process is my multi-dimensional growth ---summarized. Vis-a-vis all the turmoil like my mom undergoing chemotherapy and her emotional rollercoaster that came with it, a fruitless and chilly relationship with a dense medical student,  despicable treatment from a power-tripping boss plus other vile things that I have no more interest to recall. Then, the next wave which crushed me to pieces...scheming nosy old people who wanted to "shotgun" me and hubby OUT of our own forthcoming wedding (we felt like movie stars then though hahaha). Then, the next which I have already withstood without so much tears...a desperate ex who did crazy stuff that I almost brought to court and hubby's desperate ex who I have now simply reduced to a laughing stock. Ergo, I realized that I have come to love myself through the years.  I understood my own needs and respected them. I have become my own knight ready for battle, while still respecting the dynamics of others’ mental faculties.

Your million-dollar question was…in times of adversity, should we be a bitch then or should we be a doormat?

I’m a firm believer of balance.  There is such a thing as "diplomacy" (which happens to be one of my favorite words). It’s easy. It’s all a mind-word game out there. It’s the best thing in the world. And it works.  Choose and study your cases carefully. I must say though, it won’t hurt to include “bitch” as one of your options.  Maybe as a last resort when some stupid@ss people just don’t learn at all.

“Being nice is good, being meek is noble but to be a doormat, that’s unforgivable.”---from the Dancing Queen ---> ME!

Hot Diesel

I've got this hangover...from "The Pacifier".  I know it's some kind of a delayed reaction. But I never got to see it on its playdate. My hubby's cousin was kind enough to lend me the movie.  Well, I cried at the ending.  But don't be surprised, I cried at Terminator 2 as well (Believe me, my sister did too...)

But this isn't about the story.  I'm writing this blog as some kind of silent "shriek" over Vin Diesel -- the type you can't do when you're actually blissfully hitched to your hunk hubby (ergo...the what-do-you-need-Vin-Diesel-for kind of man) But I think he's such a hottie.  Well, I guess he reminds me of my Aldred anywayz, who's an endorphine-rush junkie at the gymn himself.  They kinda belong to the same mold (am I biased or what).

I guess it's okay to admire celebs even if you're married (I swear, Aldred likes Kris Aquino for some reason...duh!? -- Fil-Am cool guy turned "jologs")  But nevertheless, about this little secret about me calling Vin Diesel a super hottie, uhrm, a hottie, please don't tell mi amore.  I meant the hubby.

PS. Don't light that match, phuleeez!!!

Life according to Bob

"Nalaman kong hindi pala exam na may passing rate ang buhay.  Hindi ito multiple choice, identification, true or false, o fill-in-the-blanks na sinasagutan kundi essay na isinusulat araw-araw.  Huhusgahan ito hindi base sa kung tama o mali ang sagot, kundi base sa kung may kabuluhan ang mga naisulat o wala.  Allowed ang erasures."

-Bob Ong in the book "ABNKKBSNPLAKo?!"  page 120

PMS, Talking to a Dead Pope and Answered Prayers...

             Last week, I was walking about with these crazy self-deprecating thoughts swimming in my mind...with things like "unanswered prayers" and "impatience" hanging like daggers above my head. I was a seething volcano hating everything around me.  Hmmm, must be hormones doing the tango dips and dancing to the tune of "Achy Breaky Heart" (eeeew...elgk!).  But thanks to PMS.  I found myself talking to Pope John Paul II inside my head ---uhrmmmm, is that good or what? Hahaha. Anyways, I met a priest in Rome, Fr. Nemer, and he said if I say a prayer to PJPII, the deceased Pope might be able to put in a word for me in heaven.  Fr. Nemer said I can write it down and mail it to him because he can bring it to his tomb at the Vatican. So, I started putting my letter together in my mind.  I was folding the laundry as I launched myself into a litany of sorts, with matching tears (PMS soap opera...).

             Guess what, I don't care what you believe in...or call it coincidence or what, but I sure got two answered prayers two days after this dramatic spell.  TWO ANSWERED PRAYERS. How cool is that? Grazie, Dio!  And Grazie, PJPII...(my new bestfriend).  Hope heaven never gets tired of me.

***my new "bestfriend"

The Dog ate my Homework

We are all too familiar with this excuse.  For us, it may just qualify as a unique line to tell our teacher if we have forgotten to do our homework---this, alternating with "I must have left it in the bus",  "my mom thought it was trash" or "it must have teleported from my backpack to planet Mars".  But a teacher would know.  We're probably only a few of the zillion people who thought of that.  And we all know only fools will believe. So,it still pays to be honest and tell the truth.

But yesterday, I caught the dog chewing on my paperwork before the printer even finished spitting the whole thing out.  And so I remembered this over-used lie. I just thought it was kinda funny.  If I were still a student and were to explain the truth---dog ate my homework, then no one will believe me.  I'll probably have to say "Oh, it spontaneously combusted out of the blue". Just when you want to tell the truth, then you would have to lie.

*wow, how profound is that! duh, what's going on with me these days*

The Real Last Supper

Because of The Da Vinci Code, there's so much media hype about Jesus Christ's Last Supper...so much debate and controversy about which things are real and which ones are fictional.  Sorry, Mr. Dan Brown (though I know you're brilliant and I like the way you write), but I must say that this is the REAL thing.  Guys, if this doesn't tug at your heart strings, I don't know what else can.





"Table of Hope" by Joey Velasco (Philippines).  This is the Last Supper frame of Cardinal Rosales in the formal dining room of the Arzobispado de Manila, Intramuros.

I wonder...

On the way home the other day, I caught myself staring blankly beyond the car window and into the blurry pattern of trees we passed and the occasional glimpses of the starlit nightsky. And I caught myself thinking about some people that have once played roles in this multi-faceted movie called My Life. Those people who have faded away from the plot sans the farewell script.  And I started to wonder…

Ritchie Mendoza… I spent two sleepless nights trying to find her on Friendster. I tried to key in all name combinations imaginable on the search, but to no avail.   She and I went through a lot together. We were thesis mates at the university and co-workers after graduation. We laughed, cried and wondered about the future together.  But we somehow lost touch through time and changing jobs.  I really miss her and hope that she is happy right now.

The Man in Blue…During those summer breaks in High School, I used to go to church at 7am everyday.  There’s this tall and aging American (probably the only white guy in church) who always wore a light blue shirt over a pair of old jeans and weather-beaten DocMartens.  An expatriate for one of those industrial sites, maybe.  It always amused me to watch him receive his Holy Communion daily. Not that it’s surprising to have someone like him do that.  I just wondered, does he have a family? Where does he live? He looks very peaceful and calm. What does he do? What is he like? For a while there, he became a beacon of faith for me. I never saw him again after my college days.  With his age by now, he has probably moved ahead. 

Gerardo Torres III…PILIONE and ARTAPRE Professor, De La Salle University.  I think of him sometimes.  Like when I remember my old paintings and sketches that my bitter ex set on fire (literally, but that deserves a separate blog). Or recently, when I watched Beauty and the Geek.  Richard Rubin reminded me of him. That made me start wondering again.  Sir Gerry is a small-framed and soft-spoken person with thick eyeglasses. A simple man who did me something grand.  He included my works in an Art Exhibit in the school lobby one semester.  He believed in me.  And said that I’ll never go hungry because I can always sell my work for P 1,000.-P3,000. each.  Cheap, huh, but for an amateur like I was, that sounded pretty promising.  Does he still teach? Does he still motivate people to be in their artistic best? Is he Dean of something now?

The streetchild and his eyes…While I was parking my car a few years back, this boy, maybe around 10 years old, assisted me. Our eyes met, and I saw a pair of probably the most intense eyes I’ve ever seen in a child.  It pierced into my heart. In his eyes, I read kindness and sincerity, hardwork and honesty, innocence, seriousness, earnestness, simplicity, maturity, and other things way beyond his years. I still feel a punch in my stomach every time I try to remember that face.  I can’t begin to tell you how I felt that day. I suddenly wanted to transfer my fully paid Honda CRV to his name, maybe out of pity, or concern…or guilt that I’ve been more blessed? I hope he’s living a better life now.  I hope he’s in school, not out on the streets.  I hope he’s eating well.  I hope he is still what his eyes showed me. 

I wondered about a lot of other people too on the way home that night. But then I also started to wonder, do old friends ever think about how I’m doing now? With my life being an open book, and my gazillion blogs to boot, maybe I don’t leave enough space for wonder.  Whether that’s good or bad, it doesn’t matter.  But how about those routine strangers like the man in blue and the streetchild with no name...Do they remember me at all? Have I ever been an interesting stranger to someone too?  Do they wonder about me as well? I wonder…