A follow-up to my blog from 07 November... This happened 08 November, merely a day after the incident.
It was almost funny... almost. But then I needed to get something and not getting that piece of paper proved the whole hour and a half spent at that place futile.
I was a the precinct earlier today to get a copy of the police report which I needed to submit to my manager for documentation purposes. It was bad enough that the day didn't feel so bright and sunny as I had hoped it would be, as I felt the need to somehow perk up from the bad experience I had last week. I was held up at knife point along with 18 other individuals, including the driver and conductor, aboard a Don Mariano bus by four foul-smelling thugs. We all lost our hard-earned cash, some even lost mobile phones and other gadgets, and we were made to write our individual accounts of the incident on pieces of bond paper. It was my own account of the incident that I needed to get a copy of today, even better if I could get the report that the police had consolidated.
I reached the precinct at about 10:30 in the morning, having walked a few hundred hundred meters from my apartment. I felt my heart skip a bit as I entered the foyer of the two-story building as I walked into an ongoing commotion... well, two if you count the one at the holding area at the next room. I spoke with a middle-aged woman who told me to take a seat at the last table at the end of the room as they tried to pacify an elderly lady who was throwing hysterics at the first officer's desk fronting the foyer.
The atmosphere was heavy with all the drama, the screaming and shouting and the curses being exchanged from on side of the room to the other. I could hardly make out the words coming from everyone who, for some reason, had so much lung power that morning to be able to carry on their shouting match. At least an hour and a half passed by with my behind glued to my seat and my heart sinking with each passing minute. I felt how dry my throat had become as I finally swallowed and lifted myself off my seat to ask the officer standing closest to where I was. He didn't even budge and even pretended not to hear me. I approached another officer to ask if he could help me, and he said, "Mamaya na, miss, kasi yung in charge andun inaayos tong gulo... Kaninang madaling araw pa to eh." Moments later, a fist fought erupted among the men, including the woman who had been screaming tirelessly all morning. I had to move away to keep myself from getting hurt in the ruckus.
In the end, I decided to leave everyone be with their shouting matches and fist fights. I wasted nearly two hours wanting to simply get a copy of a police report.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Runaway Bus
I got held up on my way home... or rather, I was among 19 people who got held up on our way home.
At about 12:30 AM, 07 November, I got on a Don Mariano bus en route to Novaliches Bayan which passes by Road 20 at Mindanao Avenue where I reside. As the bus usually speeds off as its passenger gets up the steps, I had to hop into the first vacant seat I could find which was right in front of the twin doors. I had barely maneuvered to fix my dress when the bus halted and aboard came four men - all wearing dark-colored t-shirts, short pants, flipflops and bullcaps riding so low to hide their faces. One of them went straight to the back of the bus, while another sat right behind the driver. The remaining two stayed at the doors, ignoring the bus conductor's calls for them to take a seat.
Not two minutes later, the bus made a full stop at Paramount - the intersection at which EDSA and North Avenue meet. The bus conductor walked towards the doors and tried to make his way through the two men so that he could call passengers. And then, one of the men pulled an ice pick, about a foot long, and ordered the bus conductor to take a seat. The other guy closed and barred the doors.
The bus wheeled to make the turn, abnormally slower than these buses do given that hour of night. The man behind the driver stood up, his long blade pointed at the driver's neck, and shouted orders for everyone not to panic, not to look down or at anyone, and to hand over bags and purses to the guy who, from the bag, collected them in a garbage bag. The man who had his ice pick pointed at the bus conductor began shouting as the conductor refused to give the coins he kept in a pouch made out of an old handkerchief. The ice pick was held barely an inch from the poor conductor's face, right between his eyes, as the guy screamed profanities at him to let go of the pouch.
Everyone else was quiet. The leader, the guy who held the driver at his mercy, began talking. I guess my heart was beating so fast and so loud that I could barely make out the words he was saying. As he spoke, we were driving a bit slower as three of the men began rummaging through bags and purses. They went for all the cash, not sparing a single peso they could find, took the phones they found in the bags, and carelessly through the bags and whatever else they found useless to them around the floor. The leader told the driver not to make any stops unless he was told to stop.
I stared straight ahead and had my neck resting on the cold knuckles of the woman seated behind me. I saw a red light and sure enough the bus kept on going. I never thought Congressional Avenue could feel so dark and desolate. I could not breathe though I wanted to much to scream. I could not think but the one thing that plagued my mind was my need to get home.
Before I knew it, the leader barked something at the driver. The bus made a complete stop at the red light at the corner of Mindanao Avenue and Congressional Avenue. The four men alighted, ran across the street and disappeared. The remains of their robbing spree remained at the floor of the bus.
As we turned into Mindanao Avenue, we saw a police check point and stopped there. Some of us ran down the bus and met with the police, including the woman who sat behind me and had then begun throwing hysterics. I was among five or six who remained on the bus to search for what was left of our belongings.
Climbing down the bus felt like leaving hell... I felt as if my body was so heavy that I practically slumped down on the gutter and sat there, staring at the pavement. A few others were like me, sitting there motionless and in shock. The rest, including the bus conductor, recounted what had happened over and over again to the police. Two of the police hopped onto their motorcycles and left, another called into his radio asking for back up mobile patrols to go through Congressional Avenue. For at least a whole hour, we remained there until, one by one, we decided to go home.
As I was leaving, I saw the bus driver sitting on the bare sidewalk with a towel over his neck where the blade had been pressed against. He was bleeding. Apparently, the leader of the fearsome four had already stuck the end of his blade into the poor driver's neck to keep him in check.
I walked home. I could not think but I walked, not looking back at all. I got home and I sat in front of our television staring into the empty screen. I'm not sure if I fell asleep at all. All I remember is that I went to bed after I heard my children's alarm clock go off.
My head's still reeling from the experience. I'm hoping against hope that I'll somehow forget this incident soon but it has left me broke and shaken. How badly did these people need money that they were willing to hurt people to get it? What of everyone else who lost their phones, their hard-earned money, and other belongings to these muggers?
I am out of words now. I don't even want to read through this anymore. I guess I just needed to vent off somehow. I had barely cried after that ordeal. I have not told my children or my parents about this. I have only told a few people I trust. I can barely think of what to do or what to think of right now, but if there is one thing I want to do... I want to cry.
At about 12:30 AM, 07 November, I got on a Don Mariano bus en route to Novaliches Bayan which passes by Road 20 at Mindanao Avenue where I reside. As the bus usually speeds off as its passenger gets up the steps, I had to hop into the first vacant seat I could find which was right in front of the twin doors. I had barely maneuvered to fix my dress when the bus halted and aboard came four men - all wearing dark-colored t-shirts, short pants, flipflops and bullcaps riding so low to hide their faces. One of them went straight to the back of the bus, while another sat right behind the driver. The remaining two stayed at the doors, ignoring the bus conductor's calls for them to take a seat.
Not two minutes later, the bus made a full stop at Paramount - the intersection at which EDSA and North Avenue meet. The bus conductor walked towards the doors and tried to make his way through the two men so that he could call passengers. And then, one of the men pulled an ice pick, about a foot long, and ordered the bus conductor to take a seat. The other guy closed and barred the doors.
The bus wheeled to make the turn, abnormally slower than these buses do given that hour of night. The man behind the driver stood up, his long blade pointed at the driver's neck, and shouted orders for everyone not to panic, not to look down or at anyone, and to hand over bags and purses to the guy who, from the bag, collected them in a garbage bag. The man who had his ice pick pointed at the bus conductor began shouting as the conductor refused to give the coins he kept in a pouch made out of an old handkerchief. The ice pick was held barely an inch from the poor conductor's face, right between his eyes, as the guy screamed profanities at him to let go of the pouch.
Everyone else was quiet. The leader, the guy who held the driver at his mercy, began talking. I guess my heart was beating so fast and so loud that I could barely make out the words he was saying. As he spoke, we were driving a bit slower as three of the men began rummaging through bags and purses. They went for all the cash, not sparing a single peso they could find, took the phones they found in the bags, and carelessly through the bags and whatever else they found useless to them around the floor. The leader told the driver not to make any stops unless he was told to stop.
I stared straight ahead and had my neck resting on the cold knuckles of the woman seated behind me. I saw a red light and sure enough the bus kept on going. I never thought Congressional Avenue could feel so dark and desolate. I could not breathe though I wanted to much to scream. I could not think but the one thing that plagued my mind was my need to get home.
Before I knew it, the leader barked something at the driver. The bus made a complete stop at the red light at the corner of Mindanao Avenue and Congressional Avenue. The four men alighted, ran across the street and disappeared. The remains of their robbing spree remained at the floor of the bus.
As we turned into Mindanao Avenue, we saw a police check point and stopped there. Some of us ran down the bus and met with the police, including the woman who sat behind me and had then begun throwing hysterics. I was among five or six who remained on the bus to search for what was left of our belongings.
Climbing down the bus felt like leaving hell... I felt as if my body was so heavy that I practically slumped down on the gutter and sat there, staring at the pavement. A few others were like me, sitting there motionless and in shock. The rest, including the bus conductor, recounted what had happened over and over again to the police. Two of the police hopped onto their motorcycles and left, another called into his radio asking for back up mobile patrols to go through Congressional Avenue. For at least a whole hour, we remained there until, one by one, we decided to go home.
As I was leaving, I saw the bus driver sitting on the bare sidewalk with a towel over his neck where the blade had been pressed against. He was bleeding. Apparently, the leader of the fearsome four had already stuck the end of his blade into the poor driver's neck to keep him in check.
I walked home. I could not think but I walked, not looking back at all. I got home and I sat in front of our television staring into the empty screen. I'm not sure if I fell asleep at all. All I remember is that I went to bed after I heard my children's alarm clock go off.
My head's still reeling from the experience. I'm hoping against hope that I'll somehow forget this incident soon but it has left me broke and shaken. How badly did these people need money that they were willing to hurt people to get it? What of everyone else who lost their phones, their hard-earned money, and other belongings to these muggers?
I am out of words now. I don't even want to read through this anymore. I guess I just needed to vent off somehow. I had barely cried after that ordeal. I have not told my children or my parents about this. I have only told a few people I trust. I can barely think of what to do or what to think of right now, but if there is one thing I want to do... I want to cry.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
How’s Your Day?
It's been a while since I was last able to update this blog, so allow me to share this piece I wrote while at work...
There are times when a person feels that he’s on a roll… like he’s achieving so many great feats and he’s everyone’s pal. He is greeted with warm smiles when he arrives, and is bidden a sincere farewell even with just a simple pat on the back.
Then there are also times when a person feels not so good at all. Things are no longer working as good as they used to for him. He feels unappreciated and the warm smiles from his peers are gone.
Nobody is exempt from these ups and downs. Nobody is free from feeling as if the rest of the world simply doesn’t care about him or her. To say otherwise, to say that you’ve never had even a single instance when you simply feel left out by everyone else around you, is hypocritical at best.
To quote a friend who opened up to me just today, “this doesn’t just happen overnight.” In his case, the people whom he used to hang out with started leaving him out of conversations, lunches and Saturday night gimmicks. He was ranting about the situation today, saying that it’s been nearly a month since this began.
What does one do in situations like these? How does one cope when everyone else seems not to care? How does one deal with feeling left out?
I’ve been reading and writing blogs since my college days and among the topics I loved reading most were those about dealing with relationships – at home, at work, at school, etc. Most writers would write about how to best care for relationships in the work place. They admit, though, that there will always be things that could get out of hand. For instance, it is beyond our control if the people we used to hang out with begin having a preference for other company. We cannot always surmise the reasons behind this. We cannot simply conclude that they don’t like being friends with you anymore, or that they dislike you.
Phil Kaeghan, a blogger from Memphis, wrote about his experience with his officemates. He wrote, “There used to be only four of us in the department. Since our group grew to six, my three friends had hardly hung out with me. They’ve been hanging out more with one of the new guys… to think that we’ve been together for almost two years before that guy came into the picture. I asked them about it and they just shrugged their shoulders and said it was nothing.”
Elisabeth Manansala, another blogger from Manila, also shared her experience with her wave mates, “Working in a call center was a dream for me. I never realized that this dream could turn sour. My wave mates and I used to be so close. However, ever since we have moved to the production floor, they have begun leaving me out. We used to hang out on Saturday nights, our last shift for the week. Now, they’d make up excuses like they don’t feel like going out or some of them need to get home right away – then I find out the following week that they had gone out anyway. It makes me feel so dumb – if they are trying to ditch me, why won’t they just say it to my face?”
Some of us don’t have the luxury of having other friends in the workplace apart from the ones we work closely with. When situations such as those mentioned above do happen, it’d have been easier if we had other friends with whom we can hang out and rant if we have to. In my case, for example, I send a quick note to my friends who happen to be in other departments. Their responses send a quick, warm smile to brighten up my day. If my teammates leave me out of conversations or gimmicks, I need not worry. There are always other friends to socialize with.
Others are not as fortunate, however. Perhaps they work in small offices where there are only few people to hang out with (and they happen to be the ones making them feel left out). Or maybe work schedules simply don’t match so they don’t get to see your friends at work. So how does one make the most of the situation? Or, better yet, how does one feel better given that situation?
One of the options is to open up. Tell your colleagues how they’re making you feel, and simply ask them why they are behaving that way. If they are unable to give you a straight answer, fear not. The worst part is over at least – getting that out of your chest should be able to let you breathe easier. If they are unable to give you a straight answer regarding their behavior towards you, then that’s their problem and not yours. Don’t make it your problem.
Another option is to let things be. No, I don’t mean put a permanent strain on your working relationship. If, for some reason, they prefer hanging out with somebody else then you ought not to let that bring you down. Sure, you used to hang out and all, but sometimes the fire in a relationship does burn out. The bond is fleeting, so to speak. Surely, however, you have much stronger bonds than that and those bonds should give you the strength to get through each day at work.
There is no need to let yourself feel down all day because you feel left out by your colleagues. As Lorraine Caparas, yet another Pinoy blogger, wrote, “My disposition has yet to be dragged down by the behavior of those around me simply because I don’t let them bring me down. As the old saying goes, you can never put a good man down. So why should I let these people bring me down?”
That is indeed a good question to ask yourself when you begin feeling this way. “Will I let this person or those people bring me down?” We must remember that, at the end of the day, we are the ones deciding how we want our day to be no matter what the circumstance. As my friend, Francis Lagasca, told me as we exchanged Typhoon Ondoy stories (we were both stranded, though in separate places), “I choose not to be affected by things that may normally bring other people down. I choose to enjoy my day, no matter what happens and no matter what others may say.”
So, how about you? How’s your day?
There are times when a person feels that he’s on a roll… like he’s achieving so many great feats and he’s everyone’s pal. He is greeted with warm smiles when he arrives, and is bidden a sincere farewell even with just a simple pat on the back.
Then there are also times when a person feels not so good at all. Things are no longer working as good as they used to for him. He feels unappreciated and the warm smiles from his peers are gone.
Nobody is exempt from these ups and downs. Nobody is free from feeling as if the rest of the world simply doesn’t care about him or her. To say otherwise, to say that you’ve never had even a single instance when you simply feel left out by everyone else around you, is hypocritical at best.
To quote a friend who opened up to me just today, “this doesn’t just happen overnight.” In his case, the people whom he used to hang out with started leaving him out of conversations, lunches and Saturday night gimmicks. He was ranting about the situation today, saying that it’s been nearly a month since this began.
What does one do in situations like these? How does one cope when everyone else seems not to care? How does one deal with feeling left out?
I’ve been reading and writing blogs since my college days and among the topics I loved reading most were those about dealing with relationships – at home, at work, at school, etc. Most writers would write about how to best care for relationships in the work place. They admit, though, that there will always be things that could get out of hand. For instance, it is beyond our control if the people we used to hang out with begin having a preference for other company. We cannot always surmise the reasons behind this. We cannot simply conclude that they don’t like being friends with you anymore, or that they dislike you.
Phil Kaeghan, a blogger from Memphis, wrote about his experience with his officemates. He wrote, “There used to be only four of us in the department. Since our group grew to six, my three friends had hardly hung out with me. They’ve been hanging out more with one of the new guys… to think that we’ve been together for almost two years before that guy came into the picture. I asked them about it and they just shrugged their shoulders and said it was nothing.”
Elisabeth Manansala, another blogger from Manila, also shared her experience with her wave mates, “Working in a call center was a dream for me. I never realized that this dream could turn sour. My wave mates and I used to be so close. However, ever since we have moved to the production floor, they have begun leaving me out. We used to hang out on Saturday nights, our last shift for the week. Now, they’d make up excuses like they don’t feel like going out or some of them need to get home right away – then I find out the following week that they had gone out anyway. It makes me feel so dumb – if they are trying to ditch me, why won’t they just say it to my face?”
Some of us don’t have the luxury of having other friends in the workplace apart from the ones we work closely with. When situations such as those mentioned above do happen, it’d have been easier if we had other friends with whom we can hang out and rant if we have to. In my case, for example, I send a quick note to my friends who happen to be in other departments. Their responses send a quick, warm smile to brighten up my day. If my teammates leave me out of conversations or gimmicks, I need not worry. There are always other friends to socialize with.
Others are not as fortunate, however. Perhaps they work in small offices where there are only few people to hang out with (and they happen to be the ones making them feel left out). Or maybe work schedules simply don’t match so they don’t get to see your friends at work. So how does one make the most of the situation? Or, better yet, how does one feel better given that situation?
One of the options is to open up. Tell your colleagues how they’re making you feel, and simply ask them why they are behaving that way. If they are unable to give you a straight answer, fear not. The worst part is over at least – getting that out of your chest should be able to let you breathe easier. If they are unable to give you a straight answer regarding their behavior towards you, then that’s their problem and not yours. Don’t make it your problem.
Another option is to let things be. No, I don’t mean put a permanent strain on your working relationship. If, for some reason, they prefer hanging out with somebody else then you ought not to let that bring you down. Sure, you used to hang out and all, but sometimes the fire in a relationship does burn out. The bond is fleeting, so to speak. Surely, however, you have much stronger bonds than that and those bonds should give you the strength to get through each day at work.
There is no need to let yourself feel down all day because you feel left out by your colleagues. As Lorraine Caparas, yet another Pinoy blogger, wrote, “My disposition has yet to be dragged down by the behavior of those around me simply because I don’t let them bring me down. As the old saying goes, you can never put a good man down. So why should I let these people bring me down?”
That is indeed a good question to ask yourself when you begin feeling this way. “Will I let this person or those people bring me down?” We must remember that, at the end of the day, we are the ones deciding how we want our day to be no matter what the circumstance. As my friend, Francis Lagasca, told me as we exchanged Typhoon Ondoy stories (we were both stranded, though in separate places), “I choose not to be affected by things that may normally bring other people down. I choose to enjoy my day, no matter what happens and no matter what others may say.”
So, how about you? How’s your day?
Monday, August 23, 2010
Art for a Cause
A friend of mine lost her 7-year old son to a brain tumor last year. My fiance's father has been battling with a brain tumor for a number of years. Another friend currently residing in the US is going through the same ordeal.
I had opportunities long ago to gather fellow artists for causes that were bigger than us, and we were nonetheless able to make a difference no matter how small.
This time, I wish to take the opportunity to make even the smallest difference to get more attention to Brain Tumor research here in the Philippines and, if God grants it, even abroad.
I'm looking for fellow artists and enthusiasts to help me build on fundraiser productions (plays, exhibits, fun runs, concerts, anything!) that could spread awareness and gather more support for Brain Tumor research. I'm looking for people who want to help spread the word, and help gather more support for this endeavor. I hardly have the tools now but I soon will. It will take time, and I know my efforts may or may not pay off in the end, but I am determined to do what I can.
For Tito William C. Abbott...
For the late Jerome O. Peñaredondo...
For Alice P. Montemar...
And for numerous others who are waiting for help... for recognition... and for healing.
To God be the glory in this endeavor.
I had opportunities long ago to gather fellow artists for causes that were bigger than us, and we were nonetheless able to make a difference no matter how small.
This time, I wish to take the opportunity to make even the smallest difference to get more attention to Brain Tumor research here in the Philippines and, if God grants it, even abroad.
I'm looking for fellow artists and enthusiasts to help me build on fundraiser productions (plays, exhibits, fun runs, concerts, anything!) that could spread awareness and gather more support for Brain Tumor research. I'm looking for people who want to help spread the word, and help gather more support for this endeavor. I hardly have the tools now but I soon will. It will take time, and I know my efforts may or may not pay off in the end, but I am determined to do what I can.
For Tito William C. Abbott...
For the late Jerome O. Peñaredondo...
For Alice P. Montemar...
And for numerous others who are waiting for help... for recognition... and for healing.
To God be the glory in this endeavor.
Not a Moment Too Soon
A friend once told me that things happen for a reason. These reasons can be rather unnerving if one chooses to let it bring the worst in him or her. I know I did, several times in fact, and not so long ago at that.
We've all had our fair share of heartaches, big and small. But hey, things do happen for a reason and I happen to believe that God does not allow things we cannot handle happen to us. We are His children and we do need discipline sometimes... a lot of times. There are times when we question His reasons for allowing ill things happen to good people. In the end, God's judgment prevails and we ought to be able to discern just how much He loves us... for no matter how bad things become, we will all still remain in His good graces. We are, afterall, blessed to have been created in His image.
I am not exactly the type of person to preach. I am rather the opposite of that. I'd rather be one to lead by example rather than by unfounded words. For this moment, I am human. For this moment, I am fine. For this moment, I am living the kind of life that I know could be loads better than it is now but I am nonetheless unshaken for I know I am blessed... and doing far better than thousands of others.
The goodness of life cannot be measured by what we have materially. The song we keep in our hearts becomes an instant reminder of why we live and what we have to live for. It is different from person to person, I am sure of that. And the song changes every moment, minute, hour, day, or year.
The song changes, and not a moment to soon at that, for when the song becomes the light of our day we will be reminded that our lives are as rich as we deem it to be. Just as mine is, and yours will be, too, if you let your song set you free.
We've all had our fair share of heartaches, big and small. But hey, things do happen for a reason and I happen to believe that God does not allow things we cannot handle happen to us. We are His children and we do need discipline sometimes... a lot of times. There are times when we question His reasons for allowing ill things happen to good people. In the end, God's judgment prevails and we ought to be able to discern just how much He loves us... for no matter how bad things become, we will all still remain in His good graces. We are, afterall, blessed to have been created in His image.
I am not exactly the type of person to preach. I am rather the opposite of that. I'd rather be one to lead by example rather than by unfounded words. For this moment, I am human. For this moment, I am fine. For this moment, I am living the kind of life that I know could be loads better than it is now but I am nonetheless unshaken for I know I am blessed... and doing far better than thousands of others.
The goodness of life cannot be measured by what we have materially. The song we keep in our hearts becomes an instant reminder of why we live and what we have to live for. It is different from person to person, I am sure of that. And the song changes every moment, minute, hour, day, or year.
The song changes, and not a moment to soon at that, for when the song becomes the light of our day we will be reminded that our lives are as rich as we deem it to be. Just as mine is, and yours will be, too, if you let your song set you free.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Curtain Call
At times, life spins so fast,
Too fast that you hardly get to catch your breath,
And the thought of stopping
Feels silly and trite.
At times, the heartaches
Catch you blind-sided and unaware,
And leave you with your mouth
Gaping open, voiceless and meek.
Life is a mystery, shrouded
By a blanket of question marks and exclamations,
And at sixteen, there's hardly
Any room for answers in your head.
Laugh for no reason,
Cry till you can't cry anymore,
Drink till you can't see straight and
Start walking into walls.
A kaleidoscope of memories
Keep flooding my head each waking hour.
Times felt like it flew so fast,
But the clock says it's been barely a day past.
"25 September 1995
Subject: Andy
Dearest Anne,
I hope this does not catch you off-guard, dear. My fingers are still numb and my eyes are still cloudy from crying all night. As you know, Andy met a car accident last Tuesday before his scheduled flight to Chicago then Manila coming from Boston MA. He was in a coma but remained stable for the past few nights. I got a message on the machine last night from the nurses station, bringing me the saddest news.
Anne, sweetheart, our beloved Andy is gone. He passed away in his sleep last night at past 10. His mum and I are still very much in pain from the news - our only son is lost. I don't know how else to continue this email but let me know when we can call you. You are already a daughter to us. Marie would love to hear your voice right now. Please write back soon.
Love always,
Martin"
Written on September 27, 1995. First published on "Maiden of the Clouds" last 24 January 2000. (url no longer available)
Too fast that you hardly get to catch your breath,
And the thought of stopping
Feels silly and trite.
At times, the heartaches
Catch you blind-sided and unaware,
And leave you with your mouth
Gaping open, voiceless and meek.
Life is a mystery, shrouded
By a blanket of question marks and exclamations,
And at sixteen, there's hardly
Any room for answers in your head.
Laugh for no reason,
Cry till you can't cry anymore,
Drink till you can't see straight and
Start walking into walls.
A kaleidoscope of memories
Keep flooding my head each waking hour.
Times felt like it flew so fast,
But the clock says it's been barely a day past.
"25 September 1995
Subject: Andy
Dearest Anne,
I hope this does not catch you off-guard, dear. My fingers are still numb and my eyes are still cloudy from crying all night. As you know, Andy met a car accident last Tuesday before his scheduled flight to Chicago then Manila coming from Boston MA. He was in a coma but remained stable for the past few nights. I got a message on the machine last night from the nurses station, bringing me the saddest news.
Anne, sweetheart, our beloved Andy is gone. He passed away in his sleep last night at past 10. His mum and I are still very much in pain from the news - our only son is lost. I don't know how else to continue this email but let me know when we can call you. You are already a daughter to us. Marie would love to hear your voice right now. Please write back soon.
Love always,
Martin"
Written on September 27, 1995. First published on "Maiden of the Clouds" last 24 January 2000. (url no longer available)
Monday, August 16, 2010
All the Little Things...
My baby boy woke up this morning, climbed down the bed, picked up his little tiger stuffed toy and pushed it to my left cheek, waking me up to his smiling gaze. "Mommmmmy!"
I got up, picked him up and a warm embrace was quickly deposited around me neck, together with a snuggling face to my chest. The morning was instantly beautiful. The overcast skies were hardly noticeable, and the kitchen smelled of freshly made coffee, Milo, and cereals. His Ate and Kuya had prepared breakfast for us.
For me and my two older kids, weekends are when we get to be happiest because our baby boy comes home to sprinkle some fun back into our lives. "Wyatt is King!" as his Kuya would say. This day was spent playing ball, having pick-me-ups and fetch (Wyatt would throw his toys out of his toy baskets and Mommy, Ate or Kuya would collect them back... much to his glee), dancing, singing, and eating.
Weekends are often planned - we plan what food to cook, what movies to watch, what activities to do - especially now since we're spending weekends at home in light of the rains. Last night, Ate cooked her own recipe of chicken soup with carrots, corn and cabbage (no corn for the little boy, but he enjoyed the soup nonetheless!). Today was squash and string beans in oyster sauce day (and he kept coming back for more!). Next weekend, we'll be having sinigang and sweet and sour fish. We love to cook our favorites when our little King is home, and boy do we eat our hearts out!
We feel so elated with every smile, every laugh, every kiss, every hug he showers us with. We feel so enamored with the sound of his voice when he speaks out his little words, when he calls out to us, or hugs our legs when he wants a hug or to be picked up. Thank God indeed for this little wonder. Praise Him for this answered prayer.
I got up, picked him up and a warm embrace was quickly deposited around me neck, together with a snuggling face to my chest. The morning was instantly beautiful. The overcast skies were hardly noticeable, and the kitchen smelled of freshly made coffee, Milo, and cereals. His Ate and Kuya had prepared breakfast for us.
For me and my two older kids, weekends are when we get to be happiest because our baby boy comes home to sprinkle some fun back into our lives. "Wyatt is King!" as his Kuya would say. This day was spent playing ball, having pick-me-ups and fetch (Wyatt would throw his toys out of his toy baskets and Mommy, Ate or Kuya would collect them back... much to his glee), dancing, singing, and eating.
Weekends are often planned - we plan what food to cook, what movies to watch, what activities to do - especially now since we're spending weekends at home in light of the rains. Last night, Ate cooked her own recipe of chicken soup with carrots, corn and cabbage (no corn for the little boy, but he enjoyed the soup nonetheless!). Today was squash and string beans in oyster sauce day (and he kept coming back for more!). Next weekend, we'll be having sinigang and sweet and sour fish. We love to cook our favorites when our little King is home, and boy do we eat our hearts out!
We feel so elated with every smile, every laugh, every kiss, every hug he showers us with. We feel so enamored with the sound of his voice when he speaks out his little words, when he calls out to us, or hugs our legs when he wants a hug or to be picked up. Thank God indeed for this little wonder. Praise Him for this answered prayer.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Tomorrow
Overcast are the skies, hiding the blinding rays of the noontime sun.
A little weary-eyed and listless, but the urge to forge on has just begun.
Contentment makes the exhausted drink in the sprinkle of hope for change.
Fulfillment drives those broken from despairing to holding on.
The sun will always be there, no matter how often it rains,
Just as the Father always keeps His eyes on His children.
Welcome the sunlight, as it warms the soul even through all kinds of heartache.
Welcome the rain as it quenches the thirst for love, no matter how empty one feels.
I have often stared into my reflection, seeing the empty shell I've been
After all the losses, the aches, the deception, the pain, the lies, the despair.
It is only when I look into the eyes of my children that I see the light of love,
And when Monday comes, I find myself stuck in the dark once again.
For once, I want each day to be filled with the morning sun.
For once, I want each afternoon to be filled with the wetting rain.
For once, I want to live my life beyond the weekends I get to spend with my family.
For the Lord reminds me that my children are mine as I am theirs.
I looked into the mirror today and found a secret smile in my eyes,
The smile only my angels know about, the one we keep to ourselves each time,
The smile no one else can see, except our Father who keeps us whole,
And I've decided to keep that smile, no matter what, so I'll be whole completely.
Contentment will not bring me far from merely overcoming my own heart.
Fulfillment will come from owning each day with that secret smile I keep inside.
Tomorrow is a new day, and a new day will be met with grace and blessings,
For my Father will keep me and my children, and we'll always be one.
A little weary-eyed and listless, but the urge to forge on has just begun.
Contentment makes the exhausted drink in the sprinkle of hope for change.
Fulfillment drives those broken from despairing to holding on.
The sun will always be there, no matter how often it rains,
Just as the Father always keeps His eyes on His children.
Welcome the sunlight, as it warms the soul even through all kinds of heartache.
Welcome the rain as it quenches the thirst for love, no matter how empty one feels.
I have often stared into my reflection, seeing the empty shell I've been
After all the losses, the aches, the deception, the pain, the lies, the despair.
It is only when I look into the eyes of my children that I see the light of love,
And when Monday comes, I find myself stuck in the dark once again.
For once, I want each day to be filled with the morning sun.
For once, I want each afternoon to be filled with the wetting rain.
For once, I want to live my life beyond the weekends I get to spend with my family.
For the Lord reminds me that my children are mine as I am theirs.
I looked into the mirror today and found a secret smile in my eyes,
The smile only my angels know about, the one we keep to ourselves each time,
The smile no one else can see, except our Father who keeps us whole,
And I've decided to keep that smile, no matter what, so I'll be whole completely.
Contentment will not bring me far from merely overcoming my own heart.
Fulfillment will come from owning each day with that secret smile I keep inside.
Tomorrow is a new day, and a new day will be met with grace and blessings,
For my Father will keep me and my children, and we'll always be one.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Evading a Drunken Stalker
It was my first day at work today (err, make that yesterday because my shift's from 3PM till midnight). The morning was great - prepared breakfast and food for the kids to bring to school, brought them to the school gate, got home just in time for a good five-hour sleep before I had to wake up and prepare for work. I was able to get to work with time to spare. I left home and the kids to our babysitter. The rest of the day had been fun and I was generally happy. The sad part came when it was time to go home.
There was hardly any ride, if there was any at all, going to where I reside at midnight. I was reviewing options for where I could possibly get a ride home until finally my fellow trainee and I decided to share a cab and alight at Trinoma. When we got there we waited again for about 15 minutes for another ride that never came, so we decided to walk and see what was available. He resided in Project 6, which wasn't a problem for there was always a jeepney passing by. I had to settle for an FX that brought me to Congressional Avenue, which was still a good half-kilometer or so from my place. I walked along Mindanao Avenue from there to Road 20 and didn't find any problems as the area was well-lit and there were enough vehicles passing by, enough people walking, enough vendors about... likely on their way home, too. It was when I reached the main road leading to where I lived that I truly began regretting walking.
A few meters from the highway was a tricycle terminal which I snubbed because I rarely ride them anyhow. I regretted that decision a few minutes later as I found myself being followed and cat-called by this drunken man. "Miss... Miss... can we get acquainted?" ("Miss... Miss... pwedeng makipagkilala?") I hastened my steps and listened. He was rather noisy and clumsy in his steps as he was literally staggering along the sidewalk. What surprised me was that, as I brisk-walked to put some good distance between us, he was able to catch up with me that he was almost near enough to grab me. Thank GOD I was still able to keep my composure and make sure he didn't reach me.
The whole length that I had to walk was spent brisk walking and fumbling through my bag for something to arm myself with. I even stopped by an cafeteria, which was still bustling with patrons, to buy something - anything that I might be able to use to defend myself in case I needed to. I stayed there for a while, peering out every so often to make sure that the drunken bastard who was following and cat-calling me earlier was gone. I was earnest about getting home. I bought and lit a cigarette, not with any intention of smoking it, but rather to poke an attacker in the face with it if one crosses my way. I got my house keys out and made knuckle spikes out of them. I bundled up my hair and tucked them into my shirt. Finally, I wrapped my bag around me so that I had my arms and legs free for movement in case I needed to run or defend myself.
I started walking towards home again and, sure enough, found the same drunken man staggering along the same street where I turned. He had bought a cigarette from a store that was still open. I walked slower, making sure he was right in front of me - right where I could see him and where he might go although he was walking really slowly, and going from one side of the street to the other. At some point, he stopped and took a piss at one of the parked vehicles. I walked past him, without running so as not to attract undue attention from him, and went straight home. I kept my ears peeled as he was still rather noisy as he staggered along the street. He apparently recognized me and began calling out to me again, with rather filthy remarks like, "you're pretty, miss... you make me feel horny..." ("ganda mo, miss... nalilibugan ako sayo...") and so on.
I kept a steady pace as I brisk-walked, managing to put a good distance between us. Finally, I reached our garage gate, and as I fumbled to unlock it, I could hear the man whistling and singing some tune as he continued along the same street. I literally threw in my folder and made so much noise as I opened, closed and re-locked the gate! I walked to my front door and kept to the shadows, making sure he couldn't see where I was in case he passed by outside the gate. Thankfully, he didn't.
As I type this, my heart is still racing. I'm not ready to sleep yet but I know I will be once I get this on my blog somehow. I thank God for keeping me safe and sane during that ordeal. I hope anyone who reads this may find something useful in case they find themselves in a similar situation. Perhaps they can share some useful advice as well.
There was hardly any ride, if there was any at all, going to where I reside at midnight. I was reviewing options for where I could possibly get a ride home until finally my fellow trainee and I decided to share a cab and alight at Trinoma. When we got there we waited again for about 15 minutes for another ride that never came, so we decided to walk and see what was available. He resided in Project 6, which wasn't a problem for there was always a jeepney passing by. I had to settle for an FX that brought me to Congressional Avenue, which was still a good half-kilometer or so from my place. I walked along Mindanao Avenue from there to Road 20 and didn't find any problems as the area was well-lit and there were enough vehicles passing by, enough people walking, enough vendors about... likely on their way home, too. It was when I reached the main road leading to where I lived that I truly began regretting walking.
A few meters from the highway was a tricycle terminal which I snubbed because I rarely ride them anyhow. I regretted that decision a few minutes later as I found myself being followed and cat-called by this drunken man. "Miss... Miss... can we get acquainted?" ("Miss... Miss... pwedeng makipagkilala?") I hastened my steps and listened. He was rather noisy and clumsy in his steps as he was literally staggering along the sidewalk. What surprised me was that, as I brisk-walked to put some good distance between us, he was able to catch up with me that he was almost near enough to grab me. Thank GOD I was still able to keep my composure and make sure he didn't reach me.
The whole length that I had to walk was spent brisk walking and fumbling through my bag for something to arm myself with. I even stopped by an cafeteria, which was still bustling with patrons, to buy something - anything that I might be able to use to defend myself in case I needed to. I stayed there for a while, peering out every so often to make sure that the drunken bastard who was following and cat-calling me earlier was gone. I was earnest about getting home. I bought and lit a cigarette, not with any intention of smoking it, but rather to poke an attacker in the face with it if one crosses my way. I got my house keys out and made knuckle spikes out of them. I bundled up my hair and tucked them into my shirt. Finally, I wrapped my bag around me so that I had my arms and legs free for movement in case I needed to run or defend myself.
I started walking towards home again and, sure enough, found the same drunken man staggering along the same street where I turned. He had bought a cigarette from a store that was still open. I walked slower, making sure he was right in front of me - right where I could see him and where he might go although he was walking really slowly, and going from one side of the street to the other. At some point, he stopped and took a piss at one of the parked vehicles. I walked past him, without running so as not to attract undue attention from him, and went straight home. I kept my ears peeled as he was still rather noisy as he staggered along the street. He apparently recognized me and began calling out to me again, with rather filthy remarks like, "you're pretty, miss... you make me feel horny..." ("ganda mo, miss... nalilibugan ako sayo...") and so on.
I kept a steady pace as I brisk-walked, managing to put a good distance between us. Finally, I reached our garage gate, and as I fumbled to unlock it, I could hear the man whistling and singing some tune as he continued along the same street. I literally threw in my folder and made so much noise as I opened, closed and re-locked the gate! I walked to my front door and kept to the shadows, making sure he couldn't see where I was in case he passed by outside the gate. Thankfully, he didn't.
As I type this, my heart is still racing. I'm not ready to sleep yet but I know I will be once I get this on my blog somehow. I thank God for keeping me safe and sane during that ordeal. I hope anyone who reads this may find something useful in case they find themselves in a similar situation. Perhaps they can share some useful advice as well.
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