Exchange Gifts! December 18, 2007

BF and I bought our gifts for each other last Sunday (Dec 17). I already told him what I’ll give him; we actually talked about it already. If you would recall, he bought a Vespa recently so kinda no-brainer for me that I’d give him something for it. And that I did. I gave him a Givi Box (compartment for scooters). Now, his gift for me is a different thing. I’m so easy to please and anything pink or Hello Kitty would be great already. But what I got as a gift was so nice and pretty and pink AND Hello Kitty!!! Haha BF gave me Hello Kitty seat covers! My ride is so pimpin’! Haha! When we bought it, I also saw rubber mats (still for the car) and I paid for that already. But I saw little thingamajigs in the store also and bought a few. Hehe I was so lucky because they had an HK iPod cover and what do you know, it was for a Nano and what’s my iPod? A Nano! The gods have blessed me! After the seats got replaced with the HK covers I was so giddy driving home I was giggling by myself! I can’t put into words how happy I am with my gift!

I’ll just show you the pictures.

My Hello Kitty seat covers in all its glory.

View of the inside - it comes with steering wheel, shift and handbreak covers! Look at my car mats too!

Car mats up close.

Backseat cover! Niiice noh?

Hello Kitty iPod Nano cover

My Nano snug & comfy.

BF’s Givi box

A Long Walk Home December 14, 2007

This is probably the story that touched me the most. Made me cry the most. Everyone passes through this stage of rebellion against one’s parents and I, for one, am guilty of this. I snuck out or I told them I was doing a project at a classmate’s house when we were just hanging out (which is really just hanging out). These little snippets of “withheld information” all accumulate to guilt. Whether the truth was discovered or not when you see your mom coming home from her flight all tired but she still manages to be cheerful and even have something for each child, it’s that guilt you’re feeling, it eats you up inside. Or when daddy comes home after several months and all he hears is bickering and shouting. How you deeply wished that you didn’t tell them that you just hung out in school and not spent the extra hour “doing projects”. As we grow old, these snippets of lies turn into more serious stuff. You’re not just over at a classmate’s house for the afternoon; you’re even there until the next day. Sometimes you do have projects but other times you’re there to drink and be cool. I can go on and on and on with all of these “activities” but I’ll just let this story do the telling.

A Long Walk Home
by Jason Bocarro

 

          I grew up in the south of Spain in a little community called Estepona. I was 16 when one morning, my father told me I could drive him into a remote village called Mijas, about 18 miles away, on the condition that I take the car in to be serviced at a nearby garage. Having just learned to drive, and hardly ever having the opportunity to use the car, I readily accepted. I drove dad into MIjas and promised to pick him up by 4 pm, then drove to a nearby garage and dropped off the car. Because I had a few hours to spare, I decided to catch a couple of movies at a theater near the garage. However, I became so immersed in the films that I completely lost track of time. When the last movie had finished, I looked down at my watch. It was six o’ clock. I was two hours late!

 

I knew Dad would be angry if he found out I’d been watching movies. He’d never let me drive again. I decided to tell him that the car needed some repairs and that they had taken longer than had been expected. I drove up to the place where we had planned to meet and saw Dad waiting patiently on the corner. I apologized for being late and told him that I’d come as quickly as I could, but the car had needed some major repairs. I’ll never forget the look he gave me.

 

“I’m disappointed that you feel you have to lie to me, Jason.”

 

“What do you mean? I’m telling the truth.”

 

Dad looked at me again. “When you did not show up, I called the garage to ask if there were any problems, and they told me that you had not yet picked up the car. So you see, I know there were no problems with the car.” A rush of guilt ran through me as I feebly confessed to my trip to the movie theater and the real reason for my tardiness. Dad listened intently as a sadness passed through him.

 

“I’m angry, not with you but with myself. You see, I realize that I have failed as a father if after all these years you feel that you have to lie to me. I have failed because I have brought up a son who cannot even tell the truth to his own father. I’m going to walk home now and contemplate where I have gone wrong all these years.”

 

“But Dad, it’s 18 miles to home. It’s dark. You can’t walk home.”

 

My protests, my apologies and the rest of my utterances were useless. I had let my father down, and I was about to learn one of the most painful lessons of my life. Dad began walking along the dusty roads. I quickly jumped in the car and followed behind, hoping he would relent. I pleaded all the way, telling him how sorry I was, but he simply ignored me, continuing on silently, thoughtfully and painfully. For 18 miles I drove behind him, averaging about 5 miles per hour.

 

Seeing my father in so much physical and emotional pain was the most distressing and painful experience that I have ever faced. However, it was also the most successful lesson. I have never lied to him since.

The Cost of Gratefulness December 14, 2007

I was smoking outside again and the first reading material I picked up on the way outside was the Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul, again. The couple of stories/entries I read told me that even if it says it’s for the “teenage” soul; it isn’t really like that. What I’m trying to say is that adults can’t just dismiss the material just because it says it’s for the teenage soul; we were teenagers once, right? And it doesn’t hurt to get slapped in the face sometimes to realize that we’re living much too fast. We have to stop and look around and appreciate all the beauty that’s surrounding us. Not just nature per se but the people that are directly and indirectly involved in our life. Here are a couple of the stories that made me tear up (well, I am a cry baby).

The Cost of Gratefulness
By Randal Jones

I was about 13. My father frequently took me on short outings on Saturdays. Sometimes we went to a park, or to a marina to look at boats. My favorites were trips to junk stores, where we could admire old electronic stuff. Once in a while we would buy something for 50 cents just to take it apart.

On the way home from these trips, Dad frequently stopped at the Dairy Queen for 10-cent ice cream cones. Not every single time; just often enough. I couldn’t expect it, but I could hope and pray from the time we started heading home to that critical corner where we would either go straight for the ice cream or turn and go home empty-handed. That corner meant either mouth-watering excitement or disappointment.

A few times my father teased my by going home the long way. “I’m just going this way for variety,” he would say, as we drove by the Dairy Queen without stopping. It was a game, and I was well fed, so we’re not talking torture here.

On the best days he would ask, in a tone that made it sound novel and spontaneous, “Would you like an ice cream cone?” and I would say, “That sounds great, Dad!” I’d always have chocolate and he’d have vanilla. He would hand me 20 cents and I would run in to buy the usual. We’d eat them in the car. I loved my dad and I loved ice cream – so that was heaven.

On one fateful day, we were heading home, and I was hoping and praying for the beautiful sound of his offer. It came. “Would you like an ice cream cone today?”

“That sounds great, Dad!”

But then he said, “It sounds good to me too, Son. How would you like to treat today?”

Twenty cents! Twenty cents! My mind reeled. I could afford it. I got 25 cents a week allowance, plus some extra for odd jobs. But saving money was important. Dad told me that. And when it was money, ice cream just wasn’t a good use of it.

Why didn’t it occur to me that this was a golden opportunity to give something back to my very generous father? Why didn’t I think that he bought me 50 ice cream cones, and I had never bought him one? But all I could think was “20 cents!”

In a fit of selfish, miserly ingratitude, I said the awful words that have rung in my ears ever since. “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll pass.”

My father just said, “Okay, Son.”

But was we turned to head home, I realized how wrong I was and begged him to turn back. “I’ll pay,” I pleaded.

But he just said, “That’s okay, we don’t really need one,” and wouldn’t hear my pleading. We drove home.

I felt awful for my selfishness and ungratefulness. He didn’t rub it in, or even act disappointed. But I don’t think he could have done anything to make a deeper impression on me.

I learned that generosity goes two ways and gratefulness sometimes costs a little more than “thank you.” On that day gratefulness would have cost 20 cents, and it would have been the best ice cream I’d ever had.

I’ll tell you one more thing. We went on another trip the next week, and as we approached the crucial corner, I said, “Dad, would you like an ice cream cone today? My treat.”

The Golden Compass December 10, 2007

BF and I watched the Golden Compass yesterday at Robinson’s Galleria in Ortigas. I originally wanted to watch in Greenhills because we still have a cellphone we need to sell but I got to pick him up around 2pm already. The screening was at 2:10pm in Greenhills and 2:30pm in Galleria. We weren’t able to withdraw extra money so we just had enough to pay for the tickets; really funny because we gathered all our coins and bought a regular drink, hehe.

I liked the movie. BF was kinda fidgety in some parts of the movie, though. When I asked him why he answered me that it was dragging and had a lot of ‘dialogues’. Where’s the action daw, haha! But he finally figured it out by himself that maybe since this is a trilogy it would need to establish it’s story first; it’ll have to describe the players first before it actually shows the ‘action scenes’.

Here’s a synopsis of the first installment of The Golden Compass - okay, I didn’t realize it would be so hard getting a summary of this. All that showed up after searching for it is about the controversies of the movie. It is being said that the author of the book is an Atheist and the story is how he’s making the church the antagonist in the story and how he’s like convincing the children to turn away from them.

I just copied the review a friend of mine did it is pretty much the version I want to put here.

Lyra Belacqua played by Dakota Blue Richards is an orphan living at Jordan College in an alternate universe. In this world, every person is accompanied by a daemon, which is a physical representation of their soul in animal form. In short, it was their animal counterpart. The young Lyra’s daemon is named Pantalaimon which manages to change his shape in any manner it wishes unlike those adult, matured daemons.

In one occasion, Lyra was introduced to Mrs. Coulter which was played by Nicole Kidman. Mrs. Coulter gave her the idea of going to a trip to the far north and offered her to become an assistant. Delighted with the idea, Lyra agreed. Before she left, however, the master gave her a strange golden instrument called an alethiometer, which is capable of telling the truth. The master, though, failed to illustrate how the thing works and instead warned Lyra to keep the instrument only to herself. [Photo of alethiometer on the right.]

After some time, Lyra realized that Mrs. Coulter was involved with the Magisterium’s General Oblation Board which will use children to investigate the intercession. Her friend, Billy Costa and Roger have been taken. She eventually fled the auspices of Mrs. Coulter and was rescued by the Gyptians.

During her travels with the Gyptians, Lyra learned how to ask the alethiometer pertinent questions and how to interpret its responses.

Upon arrival in Trollesund, Lyra meets Texan aeronaut Lee Scoresby played by Sam Elliot, who offered to help her but first he wants to get a friend out of trouble. His friend’s name is Yurek Byrnison, an armored ice bear. The bear was exiled from his home after losing a fight upon betrayal by Ragnar, the current king. [Photo of Lyra/ w Yuker Byrnison]

The bear — after several adventure with Lyra — went with the Gyptians to help Lyra bring back her friends to their respective families. Inside the experimental station, Lyra asks Roger to get the others ready to escape. She has to hide under a table almost immediately because the experimental station staff and Mrs. Coulter come in. However, she was captured by the staff and was placed in a device where children are separated from their daemons. The separation is almost complete when Mrs. Coulter, looking terrified, runs in and stops the procedure.

Outside the experimental station the children confront the guards. But the group of Lyra intervened and eventually won the battle.

Overall, I liked the movie and I got curious enough to wait for the next 2 installments and watch them.

Sing Along 02 December 8, 2007

Here’s another song I like. I like how the lyrics are true, straight to the point and funny at the same time. Well, funny in a nice way - more like ‘makes you smile, nod & agree’ lyrics.

Hand In My Pocket by Alanis Morissette

I’m broke but I’m happy
I’m poor but I’m kind
I’m short but I’m healthy, yeah
I’m high but I’m grounded
I’m sane but I’m overwhelmed
I’m lost but I’m hopeful baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything’s gonna be fine fine fine

I’ve got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five

I feel drunk but I’m sober
I’m young and I’m underpaid
I’m tired but I’m working, yeah
I care but I’m restless
I’m here but I’m really gone
I’m wrong and I’m sorry baby
What it all comes down to
Is that everything’s gonna be quite alright

I’ve got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette

And what it all comes down to
Is that I haven’t got it all figured out just yet

I’ve got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign

I’m free but I’m focused
I’m green but I’m wise
I’m hard but I’m friendly baby
I’m sad but I’m laughing
I’m brave but I’m chicken shit
I’m sick but I’m pretty baby
And what it all boils down to
Is that no one’s really got it figured out just yet

I’ve got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing the piano

And what it all comes down to my friends
Is that everything’s just fine fine fine
I’ve got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxi cab

[Harmonica solo]

Sing Along 01 December 8, 2007

I was driving home earlier today and I heard this song that I always told myself I’d get a copy of but always forget; the song is A Sorta Fairytale by Tori Amos.

Here’s the video and a copy of the lyrics below it; feel free to sing along with me.

 

On my way up north
Up on the Ventura
I pulled back the hood
And I was talking to you
And I knew then it would be
A life long thing
But I didn’t know that we
We could break a silver lining

And I’m so sad
Like a good book
I can’t put this day back
A sorta fairytale
With you

Things you said that day
Up on the 101
The girl had come undone
I tried to downplay it
With a bet about us
You said that-
You’d take it
As long as I could
I could not erase it

And I’m so sad
Like a good book
I can’t put this day back
A sorta fairytale
With you
A sorta fairytale
With you

And I ride along side
And I ride along side
You then
And I ride along side
Till you lost me there
In the open road
And I ride along side
Till the honey spread
Itself so thin
For me to break your bread
For me to break your word
I had to steal it

And I’m so sad
Like a good book
I can’t put this day back
A sorta fairytale
With you
A sorta fairytale
With you

I could pick back up
Whenever I feel

Down New Mexico way
Something about
The open road
I knew that he was
Looking for some Indian blood and
Find a little in you find a little
In me we may be
On this road but
We’re just
Impostors
In this country you know
So we go along and we said
We’d fake it
Feel better with
Oliver Stone
Till I
Almost smacked him -
Seemed right that night and
I don’t know what
Takes hold
Out there in the
Desert cold
These guys think they must
Try and just get over on us

And I’m so sad
Like a good book
I can’t put this day back
A sorta fairytale
With you
A sorta fairytale
With you

And I was ridin’ by
Ridin’ along side
For a while till you lost me
And I was ridin’ by
Ridin’ along till you lost me
Till you lost
Me in the rear view
You lost me
I said

Way up North I took my day
All in all was a pretty nice
Day and I put the hood
Right back where
You could taste heaven
Perfectly
Feel out the summer breeze
Didn’t know when we’d be back
And I, I don’t
Didn’t think
We’d end up like
Like this

Little Brown Book December 8, 2007

M and I went to the pick up point of the Little Brown Book (which I just gave a nickname of LBB). It’s a planner/food directory/delivery reference all rolled into one. It wasn’t how I expected it to look like, but this isn’t in a bad way. I just imagined the daily part as different - or maybe I’ve just been so used on how the Starbucks planner looked like inside (which I stopped collecting the stickers for). I found out about the LBB here through Marketman’s blog. I think it was mentioned in his latest post (where he reminded us of the LBB pick up) that he might drop by. I was kinda hoping he would so I’d get to meet him. I wanted to ask the lady if he would drop by but as I was trying to practice the question in my head, I suddenly got shy. How would I ask her, “Miss, dadaan po ba si Marketman?” or “Miss, mag dro-drop by po ba si Mr. MM?” Hay… I don’t even know the guy’s name. I guess he’d be just like a “Charlie” to me.

I look forward to his posts every single day. He sounds like such a nice guy, cool dad & sweet husband. Oh, he’s really funny too. When he puts pictures in his posts and he just happens to be in it, he’s always “partly hidden” or he’d put a caption like “I’m the one wearing a cap.” Hehe reminds me of Charlie from Charlie’s Angels. But it’s perfectly fine by me if he doesn’t want to ‘reveal’ himself. Look at me, I’m maintaining this and I’m not even publishing it. Yet. Even BF doesn’t know I have this. Anyway, here are the pictures of my cute and über informative Little Brown Book (or LBB, hehe).

It comes with this cute box

My own Little Brown Book

It has a garter to keep it closed when not in use

How the back of the front cover looks like; cool print!

The cute print up close (please excuse my thumb, hehe)

Separators on the side

How the Diary (Daily) part looks like

How the Directory looks like (its Conti’s!)

A closer look
Marketmanila’s ad inside

Animals December 7, 2007

I got the idea from Chico’s blog and I wanted to have a version of my own. Hope he doesn’t mind.

These animals are sooo adorable!

Mahangin ba sa labas?

“I… can’t… get…up… Help? Anyone?”

“I think someone’s following me…”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Hey, wait up!”

Cute tiger cubs

Cute cute panda cubs!

Helping ‘hand’

“Hi…”

“…but I can’t cross by myself…”

Duck Xing

“You need a bath.”

“What are you?” said the animal to the kid.

Cute cute cute!!

BFFs

“I am not a cat.” [Master of disguise]

*All images grabbed from Google.

Adulthood December 7, 2007

I always bring something to read with me when I’m smoking. Be it a romance novel (firtst choice always :)) magazine, newspaper, Reader’s Digest or whatever happens to be lying around the house or on the dinner table. The book that I grabbed yesterday was Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul; the first one. Because there’s a part 2 already then there’s the journal and I think a 3rd already, not sure on that anymore. Anyway, I was just flipping through the pages and came upon this article that I really liked. It’s so real and it didn’t sugarcoat anything and it’s funny too. I tried finding the article online so that I can just copy it here but I can’t find it (or maybe my research skills are not working). So, I’ll just type it manually here - that’s how much I like it.

Adulthood
by Robert Fulghum

After the dishes are washed and the sink rinsed out, there are remains in the strainer at the bottom of the sink what I will call, momentarily, some “stuff”. A rational, intelligent, objective person would say this is simply a mixture of bits of protein, carbohydrates, fat and fiber. Dinner dandruff.

Furthermore, the person might add that not only was that material first sterilized by the high heat of cooking, but further sanitized by going through the detergent and hot water of the dishpan, and rinsed. No problem.

But any teenager who has been dragooned into washing dishes knows this explanation as a lie. That stuff in the bottom of the strainer is toxic waste — deadly poison — a danger to health. In other words, about as icky as icky gets.

One of the very few reasons I had any respect for my mother when I was 13 was because she would reach into the sink with her bare hands - BARE HANDS - and pick up that lethal gunk and drop it into the garbage. To top that, I saw her reach into the wet garbage and fish around in there looking for a lost teaspoon BAREHANDED - a kind of mad courage. She found the spoon in a clump of coffee grounds mixed with scrambled egg remains and the end of the vegetable soup. I almost passed out when she handed it to me to rinse off. No teenager who wanted to live would have touched that without being armed with gloves, a face mask and stainless-steel tongs.

Once, in school, I came across the French word ordure, and when the teacher told me it meant “unspeakable filth” I knew exactly to what it referred. We had it every night. In the bottom of the sink.

When I reported my new word to my mother at dish washing time, she gave me her my-son-the-idiot look and explained that the dinner I had just eaten was in just about the same condition in my stomach at the moment, rotting, and it hadn’t even been washed and rinsed before it went down my drain. If she had given me a choice between that news and being hit across the head with a two-by-four, I would have gone for the board.

I lobbied long and hard for a disposal and automatic dishwasher, knowing full well that they had been invented so that nobody would ever have to touch the gunk again.

Never mind what any parent or objective adult might tell me, I knew the stuff in the sink drainer was lethal and septic. It would give you leprosy, or something worse. If you should accidentally touch it, you must never touch any other part of your body with your finger until you had scalded and soaped and rinsed your hands. Even worse, I knew that the stuff could congeal and mush up and mutate into some living thing that would crawl out of the sink during the night and get loose in the house.

Why not just use rubber gloves, you ask? Oh, come on. Rubber gloves are for sissies. Besides, my mother used her bare hands, remember. My father never came closer than three feet to the sink in his life. My mother said he was lazy. But I knew that he knew what I knew about the gunk.

Once, after dinner, I said to him that I bet Jesus never had to wash dishes and clean the gunk out of the sink. He agreed. It was the only theological discussion we ever had.

My father, however, would take a plunger to the toilet when it was stopped up with even more worse stuff. I wouldn’t even go in the room when he did it. I didn’t want to know.

But now. Now, I am a grown-up. And have been for some time. And I imagine making a speech to a high school graduating class. First, I would ask them, “How many of you would like to be an adult, an independent, on-your-own citizen?” All would raise their hands with some enthusiasm. And then I would give them a list of things that grown-ups do.

• clean the sink strainer
• plunge out the toilet
• clean up babies when they poop and pee
• wipe runny noses
• clean up the floor when the baby throws strained spinach
• clean ovens and grease traps and roasting pans
• empty the kitty box and scrape up the dog doo
• carry out the garbage
• pump out the bilges
• bury dead pets when they get run over in the street

I’d tell the graduates that when they can do these things, they will be adults. Some of the students might not want to go on at this point. But they may as well face the truth.

It can get even worse that the list suggests. My wife is a doctor, and I won’t tell you what she tells me she has to do sometimes. I wish I didn’t know. I feel ill at ease sometimes being around someone who does those things. And also proud.

A willingness to do your share of cleaning up the mess is a test. And taking out the garbage of this life is a condition of membership in a community.

When you are a kid, you feel that if they really loved you, they wouldn’t ever ask you to take out the garbage. When you join the ranks of the grown-ups, you take out the garbage because you love them. And by “them” I mean not only your own family, but the family of mankind.

The old cliche holds firm and true.

Being an adult is dirty work.

But someone has to do it.

Southbound December 7, 2007

First, I want to greet Southbound a Happy, Happy 1st Birthday! Can’t really remember when I first discovered this blog but I’ve been an avid reader (and lurker at first) ever since. Not a day goes by that I don’t visit them, not unless I don’t have access to the internet. They talk about restos, bazaars, little cafe’s in the South and in the Metro that they aptly categorize as Sana Nasa South (loose translation: hope this was in the South). So there, Happy Birthday to you!

BF and I has a friend from the office who was sent to India for about 3 weeks to supervise newly trained analysts. Before this particular friend, 3 other friends were sent for the training. Anyway, he got back, I think last Sunday and come Monday he gave a cute ashtray as pasalubong. It’s not expensive but as cliche as it may sound, “it’s the thought that counts”. I get easily touched by these small stuff. And it truly is the small stuff that matters. Brief background on C — he was an acquaintance first because he’s BF’s team mate then he became a weekend drinking buddy then eventually he (together with his girlfriend, T) became our ‘jetsetter’ buddies. We already traveled to Bohol & Boracay together. It’s so nice to know that we have a ‘couple’ friend we can share problems with who knows us as a individually and as a couple.