The date has been set….

Ed is on to it and so shall i be lol

it’s a few days to the Alanis 09: thank U tribute event at Route 196 Bar in Katipunan.

it was just like yesterday when Ed and I only communicated through text, forums and email. fast forward to a few years later, here we are, together with our soul sister Alain, merging to honor our hero of sorts, Alanis.

just last week, i was under rug swept from work, events, write ups, deadlines and all that. I’ve done tens of events in my work years, but this one is different. it’s close to my heart and i do hope that with this, we will be able to broaden our network. i dont expect much but im overwhelmed by the support i get from my friends–old and new.

just last week, we didnt have support materials, i have not gotten around it or asked someone to do it for us, now it’s all over facebook, jane’s blog and spot.

just last week, i almost forgot about this

just last week, we were playing it easy

just last week, i didnt know what my role was

fast forward to a few days later…it’s coming together with a little less but a lot more to do.

kuddos to Ed and Alain…the Alanissettes as we call ourselves. we will make it!

Don’t think I don’t care. I try to live as I please and steer clear of negativity that trickles down on me. I’m not a child and I wanna be free to be who and what I’m ought to be. I may be in a better place and I have the need to keep at that so I won’t have to worry of the things that’s eating you now. And it’s not to say that I’m fine as it is. I have my own struggles that I work on by myself and not share with you. This is what I came to be from all the learnings from you. I feel it would be better this way and you’d be pleased to know that I have managed well the past years.

I wish I could tell you how I am really, but that would be dragging you in my crazy little world that you condemn. I would like to be there but I do have to choose at times to be with or to be with myself and find my peace. You’re my beacon and I never wanna see you at an all time low. Pardon me that I sometimes do not understand or fail to listen. I know it’s not easy being you, be it then or now.

I do honestly think that you have a point, what you must understand though, is that the world continued to go around when you stopped. Your only choice is walk to the rhythm it plays now. We all need to survive, we all need to grow. Please please please use the strength you have in you to adapt and not strike all that’s on your way. Life is a dance, groove to it.

I don’t know what came to me, I just one day decided to leave off work and register to vote. What I can say is that, all those years I did not, I do not regret. Suffrage may be a right, a right that you suffer for at least for 6 hours.

The death of former President Aquino may very well be a factor to my actions. To what extent, I have no way of knowing. I finally felt that my one vote can make a difference; that whoever is elected or otherwise, I had my say.

Who I’ll go for when I practice my right is blurring as the filing for candidacy and the campaign ads fill the news and the program intermissions. Will I vote according to my conscience for who I think CAN bring about a good change to the country? Or will I vote tactically so that the political suicider may concede.

I swinging between 2 presidential candidates, 1 vice-president and no idea about who’s running for other offices. My only hope is that voters wisen up and elect no more those who have failed us and pretended to be a victim. Filipinos are easy to forget who took for granted his promises and bring us to an all time low.

It is in times of great disasters and loss that I find myself proud to be Filipino. Great winds blew, a months worth of rainfall poured in 9 hours and 400,000 Filipinos displaced, homeless, hungry and desperate. Right here and now, where I come from is a land of heroes—in their little ways and the big difference they’ve made and continue to make. It’s whether heroism is just contagious or simply running in our veins.

The government, the people aren’t always pleasant subjects. We are not flawless—people here do take advantage, draw thick lines between rich and poor, politicize and are nasty in many ways.

The great Manila flood showed a side of us that are shut from when the land is dry. Heroes, philanthropists turned up as quick as the flash flood, people saving lives of neighbors unknown, mortal enemies, aiding friends and  forgetting for a moment of their own comfort and safety.

I have long abandoned watching local news, but on the day of the heaven’s wrath poured and the safety of my sister and her son was placed in question by the rapid rise of raging flood waters, I thought I have to know what’s happening around me.

That weekend was the most tiring of all the weekends I ever had. Forget my all nighters with booze and stuff and riding home at 8am and hitting the bed at 9, my neglected efforts to finish presentations till the sun is up, my extended hours working at home and self deprivation. At that moment, none of these can take the cake.

Saturday mornings are my grand time to sleep after a Friday nightout. I woke up to the sound of my message tone. One was a near insensitive text from a friend and the other is a distress message from my sister seeking help from the flood. I was dumbfounded. I sent a reply asking where she was and how my nephew Zach was. She called a few minutes after and asked who I was. It turns out, she wasn’t using her phone and texted random numbers in her stored inbox.

I checked back on her first message and saw that it was received at passed 8am, it was already 11am on my clock. They have traveled out of their village and escaped a roof high flood and are in a chapel in Montalban, the highest point they can reach at that time. Getting there was a struggle; she, her partner and his 78 year old aunt and 1 year old Zach braved raging water currents to cross over to a safer place. They almost lost Zach after a rescuer lost grip of him while hanging by a rope. I can only imagine the fear my sister is feeling at the onset. She doesn’t know how to swim and has no skill of survival in the area of catastrophe; worst of all, a child is in her care.

dela Costa, Montalban during the height of the storm

This instance on the other hand is not my finest moment, I’m cold and shaking and fighting paranoia. I think for a moment there, I lost the capacity to act on it instantaneously if not for a message from Diane asking if there’s power at my area. I reckoned Diane used to work with ABSCBN and has kept contact with the network. I asked her to help in sending out rescue to Montalban to which she texted Val Cuenca. The TV is tuned on Wowowee and Pokwang announced that help is needed in dela Costa, Montalban.

With the quest to seek more information and contacts I can use, I went online on facebook and posted a distress status. Numbers of the NDCC and Red Cross hotlines were posted in the replies. I spent the next hours getting through the lines and sending the numbers to my brother and sister so they too can try to connect.

Meanwhile, my brother vincent and his family were also under flood water, though more manageable and less dangerous. There were also reports that Provident Village in Marikina where I lived at with my cousin Ivy for a year before moving to my apartment in Makati last year is badly flooded. I couldn’t reach Ivy’s phone so I got in touch with her sister who at that time have not reached her and could only hope she and the baby are safe.

Throughout the day, I’m in constant contact with my sister via sms and calls, she only knew how to type the words “ help” “I’m scared” “I don’t wanna die”  in all her messages. I guess when people are in dire need and overshadowed by fear, you cant reason with them. Of course, she has no idea that everywhere else east of manila is under water and though where they are is a less than perfect situation, worst things are happening elsewhere.

It was afternoon when she told me they have to move on up, the chapel they sought refuge in is already surrounded by rising waters. They again swam to a three-storey building under construction along with the folks from the chapel. Night fell and darkness covered the land, rains kept falling and I’m home watching it fall, praying for it to stop, questioning why. I spent the day walking around my room, I don’t think I even sat at length.

At 11pm, communication went off, I couldn’t reach my sister and my brother anymore, once again, im fighting paranoia and reasoning with myself that the last place my sis said she was is high enough and the flood where my brother is manageable. The news says otherwise so I kept calling anyway.

My senses were awakened by a  phone call, I must have fallen asleep waiting for substantial information. The call was from an unknown number, I knew it was an international call. I picked up and was again dumbfounded, my cousin Rica is looking for her mom. It was about 5am and I had a little trouble processing who Rica’s mom is, and who among the 2 Ricas is on the phone. But then again, she asked if I have been in contact with Ivy. Boom! Tita Minnie it seems is in town and she’s in Provident Village.  I resorted to calling Ivy, she picked up which means she’s safe, but she’s clueless about where tita Minnie is at that moment. I tried to dial some numbers where she might be, but to no avail.

I dialed my sister’s number, it’s still out. Then she called and said that they are already in an evacuation center in Marikina and will soon head to her partner’s sister’s house in Antipolo. It was the only time I was able to breathe and then broke into tears.

It was a stressful weekend, only because I can only do so much and really had done  nothing but worry.

Tita Minnie and Ronnie were soon found and are safe, my brother’s phone was discharged but otherwise safe.

All the material possessions they lost in the flood amounts to nothing. All that matters now is they are spared from fatality of force majeure and is gifted with strength to live on through and learnings to live by.

If it were not for this horrible experience, i would have been the same old me who dances when it rains and care less about the victims. Having a family member survive such tragedy willed me to do the least someone can do, i have not done much. Ondoy was no ordinary storm, it wasn’t even supposed to be a strong one. He came to awaken us all. This is a one-of-a-kind tropical calamity that spared no one. there’s hardly anyone who didn’t know someone greatly affected by it.

packing relief goods for flood victims in montalban and marikina

The massive destruction left by Ondoy, Pepeng and Santi left room for all to do little deeds to help out which I will.

This is me makin’ a comeback blog, still a bit wasted and groggy from the VSF nightout that gets crazier and crazier each time.

I wanted so badly to keep my blog page healthy with new thoughts and recent experiences, yet it seems, my schedule aint making it easy for me to do so.

there’s this story of new friendships i finally found with like-minded free spirits in Ed, Alain, Arthur, Swissy, Eon and Jodi that i planned to share from the night of Swissy’s gig to the morning the following week at Jodi’s send off. didn’t happen

and there’s this point where I hate the world that doesn’t dance to my music and how i realized i need to go out a bit more frequently.

there’s this crazy monthlong birthday celebration i kicked off with my family, to close friends, to batchmates and the stories that unfolded therein. didn’t happen.

and then, there’s tita Cory’s passing…an event so surprisingly significant to everyone. i wanted to share how puzzled i was seeing so many people tearing and feeling the emotion and many other things that surround it. didnt happen.

there’s coffee thursdays with hiskool friends that surprises me each time with the array of topics we tackle. there’s talk about credit cards and salary loans,hi school life against married life, diapers, cigarettes, machismo, sexuality, gayhood, recipes, daughters, adultery, technology, work shit and work shifts and all that. didnt happen.

tonight, i wanted to write about how friday night with VSF peeps went and how we ended up leaving kiko’s house at 8am. how i almost broke my sphincter laughing out loud for no reason and  how groggy i am while talking to my  brother as we take the road to loyola to visit mom and mama. didn’t happen

there are lots of things I would want to share but can never get around it in time.

I am on the side of Elizabeth Taylor on wishing a solemn service for MJ.

not to say that it’s all hype, but it’s too much.

Michael is no ordinary person, he lived for the world and the world will ask for too much.

His family sure had an option to keep it privy, but they didn’t.

Whatever is going on in their minds, we’ll never know.

It sure has been a sad tough time in Hollywood and the entire world of entertainment around the globe to lose two icons in a day. Farrah Fawcett’s passing sure was sad but not necessarily shocking. She has been battling cancer for quite sometime and we can say where she is a better place. Her tumultuous time on earth has gone.

Michael Jackson was over and done before he was gone and it was not at all fair. MJ possessed great talent, exhibited too early, he lost his childhood in the service of entertainment. He might not have lived a full life, rather a life of odd complexities—of unending controversies that overshadowed his true worth. All that just so the world’s longing to see a succession of failures around a successful person can be sufficed and later on realize that he is after all a human being capable of throwing his life around.

In his death, the little time he had for himself and his supposed family is in question. The cause of his demise posted speculation. Are his kids really a product of his loins? Did he die a natural death or of medication?

 But what truths does the world need? How much of it should be put out for the world to know? Does MJ really owe the world an explanation and back stories of his life and death? Are the truths behind what we know truly for our consumption?

There is a reason why he kept his children’s physical identities under masks and seal his days as a father in privacy. His life was never simple and never away from public scrutiny. It is but normal to wish his children to have a private, normal childhood. Childhood—a part of his life that he lost and longed for , thus calling the Neverland Ranch his home.

Maybe the world’s wanting to know too much is normal but too much information isn’t. MJ had a life he kept away from the world, a life that he deserved. It may contain ugly and beautiful truths that he took with him in his last breath.

He had a lot to be remembered by, why spoil all that.

There will always be things that compel us to do as what we do. We go to parties to booze up and spend a good time with friends and possibly meet a like-minded person who can be a friend or a buddy in other ways , we go to work to deal with our jobs and accomplish things in a day’s work. I go home with different reasons every night, say to cook my packed lunches for the whole week, host a coffee shenanigan with friends and most times be by myself and get a rejuvenating rest.

My dental scare has caused me too much pain and cost me 3 weeks of antibiotics. My dental visits has become a regular thing in the past month, the first 2 visits was not much of a threat until I was advised to get an extraction. I need a compelling reason or that something I can look forward to, as if torturous tooth and gum aches isn’t reason enough, I need something I can enjoy even for a while.  Waking up early today, I’m all but terrified just thinking of a needle going through my gums, a couple of hours  with an open mouth garbling words while I try to tell the dentist how my gum feels.  And then I thought, the dental chair is quite comfy, I’d like to have a piece of furniture that has a contour of a dental chair. It is now set, I’m compelled to see the dentist if only to enjoy the comfort of the dental chair.

I never got used to going to the dentist, I remember most my dental visits during the time my milk teeth were starting to fall off and permanent ones began to come up. That’s how rarely I go and most of those times, I run away and hide. I probably extracted most of my front teeth, I just really couldn’t pull out my molars. Had I discovered back then that the dental chair was sooooo comfy, today would have been less of a nightmare.

Three vials of anesthesia and painstaking uprooting, the culprit has not surrendered. I could swear I have not seen the screwdriver-like tools before, the tools they used to loosen the culprit of its roots. It’s too tight on the bone they had to drill and crack bits of it but nothing helped. The anesthesia was wearing  off quick, they say its because I get nervous much while all that time, I was thinking to myself “they know what they’re doing.” I guess my tolerance for pain is not above the pain I have to endure. Now, I have another week of religiously taking antibiotics before I rest my back in agony on that dental chair .

No alcohol and no staying up late. It looks like my menu for the week will be compose of  soups from grandma’s recipe.

Tata for now to weekend debaucheries! I gotta be alcohol-free.

Thanks much Kath for coming with me to the dentist today, sorry for what you had to hear.

Happy Father’s Day daddy! Wherever you may be, it just has to be a better place.

Twenty years gone, the 20^th of June  has been like any other day. The drama does not have to go on but life has. And how do I celebrate life on the 20^th year of my dad’s passing away? I spent a night on a hill with fabulous friends gulping vodka, Red Horse and cocktails till the sun came up and the greens  painting the horizon were visible to my hazy eye.  I’m not actually there to observe my dad’s anniversary but rather to have a send-off party for Jodie. But that’s how the start of the day ended—or the end of the day started (lol).Anyhow, it’s June 20^th and I’m 20 years an orphan.

I took off to go home and get some sleep till the sun came down and then headed  for the Fete de la Musique event in Metrowalk with friends.

Back in my lily pod and doodling with my lappy,I asked myself—what do I remember about this day in 1989? I was 7 and clueless, walking in the street of I don’t know where, tagged to my sister’s hand. All I know is that we’re going to the hospital to see daddy. We were late. It seems everything from that hour to the first day of his wake is a blackout for me. It was the feat of what happened after the interment that I don’t want to remember.

It’s now June 21^st, 2009—Father’s Day. Happy Father’s Day dad. Love you always.

Charity work is one of my those things i have been meaning to do. I just havent gotten around it.  Thanks to our concerned client,SCA Hygiene makers of Drypers Wee Wee Dry diapers,  i and my office family scratched the
surface of spending a meaningful weekend with children of White Cross Children’s Home in San Juan.

I was out late the night before like most friday nights, i knew gettin up on an early saturday morning is gonna be a feat but i was up for it anyhow. Sleep deprived with drops of alcohol in my system, I was puzzled when my alarm went buzzing on a weekend morning which i normally spend curled up in bed. I kept it ringing and
it finally came to me that I gotta get up and be somewhere, doing something worthwhile. It’s quite a miracle that i
didnt hit the snooze button and go snoozing. I was happy to get up despite the bed weather that I love to sleep in.
I just thought it was early and there’s lots of the time to catch up with my pillow.

At White Cross, our dear clients were already fixing up for games. We assembled party hats while chatting it up as we go. Jollibee personnel were also gettin ready with treats, games and Chickenjoy. I dont think anyone of us had breakfast, so we were all over the party packs but couldn’t and shouldn’t be drooling over it. It’s our version of fasting.

After getting it all together, the swarm kids from the home came out to the hall. Soon as they came, we quit chatting and helped out bringing the toddlers down the stairs.It’s overwhelming to see that much kids living in one roof and painful to think why they are all there. Cant help but ask why? If i didn’t catch myself offguard, someone would catch me jerking tears looking at all of them. Its a good thing we’re not in the home for the aged, otherwise I dont know how to contain my emotions. Visiting a home for the oldies is next in line, until then I gotta keep myself together and try not to hate or judge their effed up families and the stories behind everyone there.

Jav and Nikky both had their hands around their little girls while Jay was being pulled around by a little boy.
Before getting to the feeding, the bigger kids performed a nerve-racking “sayaw sa bangko,” i thought why such near dangerous number?
teachers/caretakers also provided entertainment doing a Filipiniana dance. Parlor games from Jollibee followed, then the much awaited
distribution of party packs. At last,breakfast with kids having their lunch. The “Pabitin” was put out and i didnt even see it. The kids we’re quick to pull everything out, the cameras didnt catch up. We distributed loot bags with help from Sherilyn’s kids Paoie and Quirsten, Pinky’s little boy Enzo and Diane’s daughter Alex.The kids were soonafter whisked back to their dorms.  We turned over boxes of Drypers Wee Wee Dry diapers together with used toys and canned goods, biscuits, clothes and blankets. I feel horrible, I wasnt to bring anything i planned to because i came home late.

White Cross is home to 82 abandoned children from newborn to 6 years old up for adoption. We were shown around the facility and peeped at the infant dorm windows, the adorable toddlers’ room and the dorms of the 3 year old kids we were just playing with at the hall. Surprising to see kids this age fold their own blankets. The facility is well maintained and the kids are well taken care of. I was told other children’s home are not as good and that is our next project.We’re keen on doing charity visits a regular thing and looking forward to opening up realities hidden from our regular world.