And Miles To Go Before I Sleep

(with a nod to Robert Frost)

It's my day off today. Tuesday. Which in reality, really means nothing much. Except that I can take the day off but since I'm not the sane kind of human being, I still show up at work. And do stuff that will fall on my lap on Wednesday anyway if I don't show up on Tuesday.

I decided to leave the office early. Which really means a little before 6. Sunlight on my way home is a rarity. As rare as good men, I think.

It just rained and the grim sky threatened to dump more water onto the city's flood-prone streets. Everything had this dark, silvery sheen. Even the greens.

It was beautiful.

Everything looked grey and bleak and shiny and glistening and washed. Some may take it as sad, but it felt like everything was a mirror of everything. The potholed streets mirrored the rain clouds and tree branches above. The leaves looked like some kid found and stole olive oil from their mom's kitchen and poured it onto them.

Then the sun, overpowered by rain clouds, tried to ward off the impending descent of darkness and shone a few rays before admitting defeat, retreating.

It was beautiful. It was 6 o clock.

I could hear the church bells in our little barrio, telling us to hurry home for the angelus. I could hear hens calling their chicks, the roosters flapping their wings towards their usual tree. I could see smoke rising out of houses confusedly made of bricks and cogon, rice cooking, vegetables in bagoong. I could hear the sound of Zambales's furious waves, more deafening now as silence takes over the barrio.

It's the best few minutes of day off I've ever had in a long time.

Women and Sports

Once upon a time, cavemen chose a roundish stone and kicked it around and found it fun and called it football, while cavewomen invented fire and ended the practice of eating raw mammoth meat. (Go ahead, argue that men invented fire and I'll hideously inflate the number of men needed to screw on a lightbulb). Then on the seventh day they rested and called it Sabbath. (I am so loving this piece. Haha!)

The world cup fever is curently hitting half of the planet, levelling the playing field between those who hit the gym to ward off obesity and those whose next meal is a dream and a prayer.

I remember one afternoon in Florida. My sister and I were yelling our tonsils out watching football.

"That one! That's perfect! I give him a nine!" I told my sister.

"Nah. His are a bit flabby. Number 63's better. I give him a 10!" she said.

"Yeah, those deserve a 10," I shriek. We hooted and slapped high fives.

Lloyd, my brother-in-law walked in on us. "What's the racket about? What's the score?" he asked.

"Who cares. We're rating butts," I explained.

"Girls, that's not why you watch football!" he complained.

"That's what women do when they watch football, honey," my sister said.

He rolled his eyes, walked out, and watched the game in the kitchen.

The bottomline is, women watch sports for various reasons. If it's not to our liking, we find ways to enjoy the game. Butt-watching is one of them. Or sometimes, between breaks, we invent something crucial to mankind, like blow dryers. Or discuss something so basic like quantum electrodynamics.

I once saw a CNN report about a survey they did on what men value more: their wives (or girlfriends) or watching the world cup. I think almost 90 percent said they will divorce their partners to be able to watch the game. If that's how important it is, why not join them? For the sake of world peace. But don't blame us for looking at other, more important things to watch out for, like who's got a cute butt or nice abs.

I'm rooting for Angola, Chad, Trinidad and Tobago and some other small countries to win the cup this time. And I did snigger when the USA lost to the Czech Republic.

Not really. I guffawed.

Fine. I laughed out loud.

Okay, honestly, I'm still laughing. Harharhar!

Slicing Guavas: A Lesson from Tatay

One guava. Two little girls. Any parent will tell you it's a formula for toddler civil war.
I was three, I think.
"Jaidee, get a knife from the kitchen," Tatay tells my elder sister. Ate hurriedly did as she was told.
"Now slice it in half," he says.
Again, Ate did as she was told. But the knife favored her side of the fruit. Favored her side way too much. I said nothing. Being the second child, I've been used to being cheated and was already tired of complaining.
"Now, Leen, you get to choose first," he says to me.
Of course I chose the bigger half.
Ate began wailing.
"That's what happens when you aren't fair. You wanted to put one over your sister. Now you know how it feels to be cheated," Tatay said.

Instant karma, right in front of a three-year old.

I never lost the lesson, even when dad died two years later. As a grownup, I don't slice guavas unevenly. And when I do get cheated out of my rightful half, I cling to that lesson. I raise the issue to protect my interest, but when the other side refuses to acknowledge it, I let the matter rest. I have this stubborn faith that everything evens out, one way or the other, even without me lifting a finger. It may not happen today, but there are other days. There are other ways. The longer you are spared the punishment, the more you delay making amends, the more painful the comeuppance.

It's father's day. It still hurts even after all these years. I just pray he's happy in the company of the Big Boss Up There.

Ang Batugan at Independence Day

Nagkulong lang ako sa bahay ngayon. Hindi pinansin ang cellphone at nagdesisyong walang gagawin kundi panatilihing 80 bpm ang tibok ng puso. Walang gagawing magpapabilis ng pulso. Madali lang. Humiga ka lang maghapon at huwag gumalaw liban na lang kung maglilipat ng channel. Resulta? Heart rate ng tamad. Heart rate ng batugan. Minahal ko ang salitang iyon ngayon. Batugan. Hmmm..parang lalaking tanghali na tulog pa, at gigising lang para kumain tapos matutulog ulit. Batugan. Masakit sa tenga. Haha!

Nailipat ko ang channel sa isang Filipino channel. Sister Stella L ang palabas. Dekada na ang bibilangin nang huling manood ako ng pelikulang Pilipino. Nanghihinayang kasi ako sa pera. Tingin ko kasi, parang pagkunsinti sa pasang-awang industriya ang panonood ng mga pelikulang gawa natin noon. Lalo na nang mauso ang sexy flicks ng kung sinu-sinong walang talento pero handang maghubo. Iyong mga ang puhunan lang ay ang makinis na balat at magandang hubog ng katawan. Babae man o lalaki. Huwag nang pagsalitain. Wala nang dayalogo. Paghubuin na lang. Lalabas sa pelikulang ang kasya lang sa badyet ay isang kuwarto, isang lalaki, isang babae, isang kama. Milyon na ang kita. Ang saya, mader! Iyon ang laughing their way to the bank.

Teka, naliligaw na tayo sa usapan.

Hindi ganoon ang SSL. May relevance ika nga ang pelikula. At halos walang ipinagbago ang ganda ni Vilma Santos kung ikukumpara noon at ngayon, liban na lang siguro sa paglawak ng medida sa paligid ng bewang niya.

Luma na iyong pelikula. Pero kung panonoorin mo, bakit ganoon pa rin ang mga reklamo? Walang nabago. Kumontra ka nang konti, tatawagin kang subersibo o komunista. Madalas kong marinig ang dalawang salitang ito ngayon, na dapat ay laos na. Ang mga manggagawa, iyon pa rin ang sigaw sa picket lines. Kapag malakas-lakas sa ilang may baril ang amo, ipadudukot ang mga reklamador. Lulutang sa ilog Pasig ang katawan kinabukasan. Gasgas na, ano? Pero parang tumigil ang ikot ng mundo sa atin. Walang nabago.

June 12 ngayon. Subukan mong i-Google ang "June 12 Philippines" at ang karamihang lalabas ay iyong pagsabog ng Pinatubo, piyesta sa Sorsogon at concert ni Sharon Cuneta. Ang longkot, ano?

Tama na nga. Makatakbo na sa UP. Sobra na ang pagiging batugan ko ngayong araw na ito. Takbo ka rin doon, kapag gabi. May mala-Hugh Jackman akong laging nakakasabay. Ay, apo! Anyamet. Ang lakas agad ng heart rate ko. Pang-triathlon. Pang-atleta. Kumakandirit kasi ang kamalayan ko kapag nakikita ko siya. May six packs. Mga late 30s na pero twenty percent lang yata ang body fat. Naghubad siya ng sando sa waiting shed habang nagku-cool down at stretching ako roon. Hinigaan niya ang sando niya tapos nag-sit ups. Nakanaman. Kundi ba naman show off si mokong.

Ang clincher? Nagpunas siya ng pawis at nagbihis ng t-shirt.

....tapos sumakay sa BMW niya!

Waaaaaah! Ang guwapo lalo niya!!!

Ayan, ang bilis na naman ng heart rate ko.

Sunday Thoughts

Tsismis ngayon : nagde-date na raw sina blah at blah. Naispatan sila sa blah at sweet na sweet daw ang dalawa. Paano na kaya ang dati nilang partners na sina blah at blah? Abangan ang mga detalye sa pagbabalik ng showbiz blah.

Here I sit thinking about a lot of things and nothing at the same time, alternating between the mundane, the inane, the insane. Someone stole my wallet and everything in it, depriving me of my freedom to access the money I work so hard for, which comes twice a month and gone in a blink, funding the pad, the car, paying the phone, the power, the water source, the beer source, the grocery, the books, the magazines. It affords a lifestyle I have no inclination to indulge in, a wardrobe I see no reason to have, a social life I have no use for, movies I'd rather wait to see on cable. But someone stole my wallet and I start thinking whether I should be moving because that's one of the information they'd get from the stuff in there and my home address is not one thing I want people to know because of the stories we do for a living and it can get scary so I'm thinking of buying a gun but I ditch the idea the minute it hits my head because maybe I should just get a baseball bat but I've no idea whether wood is better or titanium is.

Lumipat na sa mas bonggang bahay si blah blah. Ito na raw ang magiging love nest nila ni blah blah, na dating syota ni blah blah na ngayon ay syota naman na ni blah blah.

Is this how I want to spend the rest of my life just beating deadlines and watching numbers I have very little control over that I miss out on friends' birthdays so I move heaven and earth to be with them or do favors for them because in less urgent matters like just hanging out, I have very little time? So friend time is limited to crunch time, emergency time, life or death decision time, I-lost-my-
wallet-and-I'm-stuck-here-and-I-have-no-money-so-rescue-me-time. Hmm, come to think of it, not one of the two people I chose to call rescued me when I lost my wallet so I had to borrow from a very unlikely person to tide me over the weekend and get a decent meal after another breakfast-less and lunch-less day. Maybe they both thought I was kidding but I was dead serious or maybe they thought I'm a big girl and won't really be helpless but I was serious and really needed help because you don't have a wallet stolen and keep your wits about you because it can be so damn traumatic and all you have to do is imagine it happening to you and you'd know it's a dead serious thing. And you don't borrow money from just anyone because it's a serious thing you don't want to be borrowing money from just anyone.

Si blah blah na raw ang magiging bida sa pelikulang blah blah. Hindi raw kasi nagustuhan ng producer ang pagiging late lagi ni blah blah sa set. Blah blah.

And so I sit here and evaluate and reevaluate everything that's happened and everythings that's happening and everything that could happen. There oughta be a law against mean people who plot bad things and whisper bad stuff and share black thoughts because they're up to no good but still manage to win over otherwise sober and sane people who fail to see beyond the yelled upper crust-ie but so phoney terms of endearment for the easily beguiled. Sometimes I see them and I see black smoke and scary red hues around them that their badness is so easily seen and so tangible it scares me because they resemble creatures with long black tails that end in some arrowy and vein-y appendage. The force is so black and bad and they seem to wallow in it like carabaos to hot mud they look like they're percolating in hell on earth everyone who's attracted to their clique has the white soul sucked out and replaced with something so evil. The movie was shot in Hades during summer and they all had fun but Spielberg walked out because it was too demonic for him and he thought the cast was so into their roles he had nightmares of him being chunked up and then offered to the simmering water in the huge vat in the middle of the camp set with ladles that couldn't wait to dip in and teeth that couldn't wait to dig in. And the dwarfed court jester jumped around in glee having finally found an occasion to show off his petty but deadly mean jokes that can only amuse the wicked and soul-less.

Blah.

DIARY NIYA...DIARY KO

October, 2004:
He was contemplating whether to pursue his dream to climb Everest or ditch the idea altogether. He was still smarting from his aborted climb of Mt. Elbrus in the Caucasus in July due to bad weather. During that rare moment of self-doubt, Romi Garduce picked up a seed from where he was resting after a bike ride in Makati. He promised to take the seed with him to the top of the world, and plant it there. Never mind if the thin air and brutal weather was inhospitable to any life form.

May 2006
Twenty months after picking up the seed in Makati, Romi leaves it at the summit of Mt. Everest, along with a Philippine flag.

A lot of things happened in between these dates, and these are explored in the documentary entitled ROMI GARDUCE: Diary ng isang Mountaineer.

Produced by GMA News and Public Affairs, the documentary captures every step, the struggle, and the unshakeable humor of Romi Garduce, the Filipino who made it to the top of Mt. Everest last month. The documentary gives a blow-by-blow account of his adventures on Everest, as covered by the GMA News team led by Jiggy Manicad.

“Diary” is a compilation of all the little details of the trek to Mt. Everest, from how the teams prepared their meals (they had sherpas for that), to how often they took a bath (rarely). It also shows how Romi’s self-placating humor and sunny disposition kept their base camp tents warm despite the freezing weather.

Learn more about Romi Garduce and the news team that covered him.

ROMI GARDUCE: Diary ng isang Mountaineer will air on Sunday June 11 at 10:30PM.

Ayan. Konti na lang, matatapos na. Konti na lang, mababawasan na ang load ko. Me diary rin ako.

May 29-June 2 (Boarder na ako sa sarili kong pad. Tulog lang. Alis. Tulog. Alis. Sa opisina na ba ako nakatira? Kumain na ba ako? Ooops. May script na. Ay, may presentation pala mamaya. May meetings pa akong tatlo. Ang baba ng ratings.)

June 3 (Ay. Nakalimutan kong magtanghalian. At hatinggabi na. Nagawa na kaya iyong billboard design? Iyong title card? May meeting pa ako nang maaga. )

June 4 - May nagnenok ng wallet ko. Goodbye ATMs. Goodbye dollars. Nandoon iyong resibo ko sa piyansa sa libel. Hindi ko mamaneho si Jiminy Cricket. Nandoon ang lisensiya ko.

June 5 - Lasing sa antok at taranta.

June 6 - Dami kong dapat sulatin. Nakalimutan ko nang kumain. Ilang beses ko na bang nakalimutang mag-tanghalian at hapunan?

This too, shall pass.

The Golden Rule:Revised by Atticus

HE WHO HAS THE GOLD MAKES THE RULES.
Iyan ang hirap sa bansang ito.
Nakakapikon kung minsan.