Thursday, April 26, 2012

Focus + Hardwork = Mastery

Mel Tiangco's TV program Power House had Senator Miriam Defensor-Santiago as featured personality today. The latter showed the former her house library, a huge squarish room with low ceiling and shelves where books are placed. Thousands of (already) read books. The senator does not have card catalogs like what the libraries have, but she has the list of book titles in her mind. Another library can be found in her office which I bet must be a den of thousands books.

The host asked the senator her viewpoints should Chief Justice Renato Corona wins or losses the impeachment filed against him. The senator wittingly shared that if the chief justice wins, he'd be a strain to the MalacaƱang, or the Supreme Court would be scared of MalacaƱang if likewise. I guess, particularly of the president.

The moment she finished saying her ideas, I was quickly convinced she's right. Like how one subconsciously affirms with the ideas of masters and experts.

Miriam Defensor-Santiago is undoubtedly an expert in politics, law, and even common 'law of nature.' A master.

When chaos stir the society, a journalist interviews a sociologist-you mutually nod with the expert's explanation. A controversial public law causes uprising among activists, you suddenly empathize with their qualms when a dean in political science shares his opinion. These are the men who have mastered their skills and knowledge. They have the "FOCUS" in their chosen fields.

I have have funny moments with this 'focus' thing. 

I have been writing occasionally, or whenever 'focus' traps me to do it out of boredom. A friend heard the gossip about my blogs galore and asked, 'So you must be a good writer, may I read some of your works.'

    I refused, 'Oh no, I'm still a yuppy in writing, you won't like my works.'

This bald guy at work learned I do graphics and approached me, 'Hey, can you do this dude?'
   It was a graphic work for a website design, grinning, 'I'm a yuppy dude, still an immediate-level user of Adobe Illustrator.'

Mind you, I'm not a yuppy at making love. LOL!

Monday, April 23, 2012

Hot and Cold Parts of Nueva Vizcaya

Against all odds

Going to the boundary of Nueva Ecija and Nueva Vizcaya is unforgettable and unbelievably freezing cold. The hillside road, which is normally prone to falling rocks from the hilltops, runs zigzag-like with the steep cliff on the other side.


Zone Out Girl used to tell me about her sudden visits to Dalton Pass with her friend on one purposeto have coffee. After a few visits to her hometown, one lazy day (when we weren't surprisingly too lazy to keep our butts off the bahay kubo) she decided to bring me to the coffee shop I heard so much about. From Nueva Ecija to Nueva Vizcaya. I was proud of myself as I was nearing the northern part of Luzon. I have always wanted to explore Luzon, especially Batanes. In the outskirts of Nueva Ecija, proximal to Dalton Pass, wide and almost dry river runs along the road. It was my first time to see rows of onion farms. Onions are best farmed here, particularly in river sand, so rainwater would seep quickly below the onion bulbs as they are sensitive to excessive moist. There are small hills with few thinning trees but covered with tall pale green grasses dancing like gypsies.

nueva ecija

The highway now demanded the car to gear on driving uphill. Trees are now greener in these areas (a few kilometers from Dalton Pass). All vehicles were obviously running slowly while machines were screaming loud as smoke belching seemed inevitable. The boundary is obvious from afar due to its contrasting blue signs across the road.

Nueva Ecija/Vizcaya Boundary

Mini toys


Right after the 'welcome' sign, we parked the car near the entrance of  Dalton Pass shrine and headed for the coffee in a souvenir shop situated in a cliff. They served brewed kapeng barako. The strong, cold wind quickly cooled down the coffee that it was no longer hot when in it reached my lips.
Labanan sa Pasong Balete (Battle in Balete Pass)

Dalton Pass, initially known as Balete Pass, was the only road connecting Cagayan Valley and Central Luzon in 1945 (presently, it is still the only junction between the regions). The joined forces of the United States 25th Division and the Luzon Guerilla Armed Forces (LGAF) under the command of Col. Robert Lapham had bloody war against the Japanese Shobu soldiers occupying the area. The latter, led by General Tomoyoki Yamashita, were persuaded and moved to central part of Cordillera.

On May 9, 1945, the area was pronounced as safe for the allied forces. Brigadier General James Dalton II was killed by a Japanese sniper's bullet on May 16, 1945 and the place was renamed to Dalton Pass to honor him. 

Dalton Pass


The extremely strong, cold wind caused a biting cold. Shiver ran through my spine. But I tried to ignore it as the view from the top was overwhelming. Windbreaker jackets are a must to make longer periods of viewing and 'zoning out' possible. LOL!

Hey! I'm here!


From that pose to a fetal position, warming myself was no longer effective. We drove to Santa Fe, Nueva Vizcaya. It's between the foot of the mountain ranges and dry river beds. Lunch was perfect, especially with the Ilocanos abundance of vegetables in their cooking. Never leave this part of Luzon without trying their dinengdeng.


Sponge Gourd

Mardi Gras


Saturday, April 14, 2012

Real-time Diary While Drunk

It is the name of the bar where I am sitting right now.

Everyone's a stranger.

Seats and tables are too low, the knee on top of my left thigh almost hit my chest.
So it is how the soldiers get seated in their bunkers.

It's 2:30 a.m.

City of Digos.

Took me five stops before landing a success in getting this ice-cold beer over this table covered with dilapidated mantel, with square prints intentionally done to look like mosaic tiles.

The waiter is taking a nap on the table next to me.

Good-looking guys sing 'Hanging By A Moment' just next to the mini bar, where I asked just a few minutes ago if I could have a beer. Same question I asked from the 'five-stops' I did sixty minutes ago. They're as young as I was ten years ago.

The carefree life of college dudes.

'I have lived'  the college era.

This space is too dim and I like it.  A guy gets inside and lays down on the cube-like wooden, white chairs joined altogether.

The drag queen  now sings in the corner where the boys did a while ago. She has been staring at me, flaps her heavily-mascara-dipped eye lashes twice as normal.

He or she must be horny.

I am too.

My preference is different my dear. We're on both ends of a steel bar. Nobody can bend it. Unless North Korea gets crazy and tries to bend it.

I want that that someone busy scribbling in the bar.

I want YOU before the sun rises.

YOU are now trying to wake up the sleeping waiter. YOU are a few inches from me. Oh come on, ask me if I need anything.

Did the ruggedly-looking guy just hugged you?

What the fuck!

You look like my ex who died of pulmonary edema. Same hair..

We are meant to see the sunrise-in a few hours-together.

Why is the other waiter with a mohawk  hairstyle hugging the waiter who's still on nap?

Everyone hugs here? Is this scene permitting me to hug you?

You're taller than me. It turns me on.

Shit I'm drunk.

I like your shoes by the way. They're sexy.

Eye contact.
Did our eyes just meet? Do I need to put meaning on it?

God, I like you.


Spaghetti strap, worn by this wasted-looking familiar lady. I know you baby. You used to be a wasted fuck. Still, you are now.

Oh, YOU are now dancing, right in front of me.

Is that supposed to mean something? I love vocabulary, defining stuff, in case YOU wish to know.

I'm acting like a teenager, bull shit, but I love it.
Makes me feel so young, again.

Oh fucking drag queen, spare me tonight. Stop playing with your hair. Pull your hair for all you want.

Oh YOU are now an arm length from me.  Do the first move please.

Bull shit, this nurse sings 'Close To You.' Abba is creepy.

Hey! I want YOU!

Not you crazy-fuck-combing-thy-hair-with-fingers. You're lucky I don't see your nails. Your hair looks soft, blacker, and I don't care.

The nurse smiles at me, ear to ear.

Not you people! Shit!

Good God, drag queen is leaving.

Thank you.

A guy with thickly-rimmed eye glasses sings in falsetto.

Now what?

Should I sing?

The nurse goes to the restroom. Don't give that stare. Florence Nightingale wouldn't like that.

YOU have been sitting outside. Do I transfer then and pretend the Bunker's too hot for me? I just cannot. Another one comes in and sits right in front me. Well, it turns me on. I like you baby, you look younger.

And, wilder.

Ok darling, you got the tune a bit right. Wait for my turn.

Oh you baby, I heard you're now a cop. Your spirit shall be up when I sing. Where's my song? I wanna sing right now!
Are you not gonna stop?

Yes, I did sing.

God, life is beautiful, indeed.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Agnes Cecile's Watercolor

While looking at the entries of beautiful sites and blogs in The Webby contest, I found Colossal has been a nominee for this year's arts category. Been following this site's unique and artistic posting of creative masterpieces. One of which is Agnes Cecile's watercolor done in one hour and a half. Quick yet amazing. The eyes look real, you'd mistaken it for a realism painting.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Hey Zone Out Girl!

After tormenting my best friend, she is at last starting her own blog. Deciding on her blog's title took us from dinner time to past midnight. Her chest flat on bed, looking at the new laptop's screen while resting her chin on her forearms. I squat on the floor. My hands clawing over the keyboard checking for crazy, silly names' availability in Blogger. 

Derogatory, weird and sexist names, we'd burst out in endless, annoying laughter-unmindful of the guy sleeping just next to her wall. We were both jobless then. 

She's my runaway girl. When one of the big surprises occurred to her, I called. She was already in the bus bound for province. Escaping just like a meteorite. It falls down to the Earth, yet nobody knows where it lands. It recognizes the surface it hits on, it's not the right place though. 

I do runaway too. We're both "krung-krung" or crazy.

Thou shalt not believe what she mentioned-the unbearable life without me on her side to share her problems with. We still talk everyday. (Basagan ba 'to?). I miss her amazing creativity in cooking. She cooks so well, irrespective of the limited spices and ingredients in our can-also-be-a-washing-area kitchen sink. Zone out girl is a helluva sensible person. There are things or events I couldn't describe well and she'd surprise me with her sound ability to feel or perceive. 

You are getting spoiled Beh, glorification stops here. LOL! Good job on your second post.