tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63797277805024041212024-03-13T09:07:47.122-07:00Wonderful WanderingsThe Chemist's other Notebook. Writing Stories since 2008.Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.comBlogger220125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-5492403690186368592018-03-29T03:26:00.004-07:002018-03-29T03:30:51.293-07:00I Don’t Have a BestFriend, Yet<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The use of shall is a must as we are taught in basic English. So if anyone says that in your entire </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">lifetime, you SHALL have a friend you call best friend, then where are you my bestfriend?</span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">If you say the children you play with are your friends, I am proud to say I have so many friends. Tonsof them. I have friends I play with in the morning. I have a group after we ate lunch. And I have playmates while the sun became out of sight. My neighbors who were my age were my friends. We play.We laugh. We quarrel. There were no days that we wont see each other. We were just gathered at anytime, anywhere like we have to. And there was joy in our hearts. Could it be that one of my </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">playmates is my bestfriend?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">If you say classmates are your friends, undeniably, I have more than 20. Come to think of it, school </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">started even before we know the meaning of a best friend. From nursery to college, some to graduate school, we harvest a lot of friends. Classmates we studied together. Classmates we walked from </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">school to home. Classmates we discussed after examinations. Classmates we hang out when school </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">stressed us out. Classmates who listened. Classmates who inspired us to pass and walked up the stageduring graduation exercises. Could it be that one of my classmates is my bestfriend?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">If you say that workmates are your friends, with a proud look, I have more than 20. If you are in your 30’s and 40’s and 50’s then you have spent more years with the people you work with in the </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">company. More years than playing with your playmates. More years than studying with your </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">classmates. These are the people who have seen you mature from the idealistic, very competitive </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">person to a more rational and practical employee. Workmates who have seen how you transformed </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">from an ugly duckling to a beautiful swan. Workmates who have witnessed how you juggled two or more tasks, altogether. Workmates who have seen your ups and downs in the career ladder of the </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">corporate world. Could it be that one of my workmates is my bestfriend?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">If you say that org mates are your friends, happily I have more than 20. As you explore that open </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">space beyond your desk in the office, you will see that there are people with the same burning desire of your heart. There are plenty of people you connect with easily because you share the same passion.There are individuals who are as competitive as you are in the sports you love to engage in. There are people who are equally as crazy as you are. Could it be that one of my org mates is my bestfriend?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I have friends. Tons of them. I have playmates in my childhood who remained friends. I have </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">classmates who’s bond refused to break, so we call each other friends. There are people I shared my </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">passion with thus we become a friend to each other. But the question remained, who has been that </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">friend I can proudly tell the world, you are my best friend. If you already have one or two, I am proudyou have found one. If you are, just like me, is looking for the one, maybe we are meant to be, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">bestfriend? </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-3170907620301819432018-03-24T02:04:00.000-07:002018-03-24T02:09:16.966-07:00On Detours and Going Back Home<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Many times, we ask for signs. When we are baffled to choose one path or another. When we try to figure out if something is worth pursuing. Or if it is worth giving up. A lot of times, we prayed for </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">signs. We fervently asked for it. Though sometimes, the path revealed itself. The sign that others prayed for, in rare cases, just unfold in front of us.</span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Some signs come in the most unexpected situation. Last year when I was in Manila to compete in a </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">badminton tournament, while having breakfast, someone joined our table to ask if I am interested to </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">do another function in the company. Then I realized that the Yes’s and No’s in our daily lives have </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">some gray area into it.. And many times, the weight of our answer, whether a yes or a no, would </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">bring jarring noise within us. Then silence begins. And hopefully after many moments of silence, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">when the gray area is removed, when we say yes we mean really yes and not maybe, or worse a No.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">It was business as usual then after I deplaned in Silay Airport. I was facing my samples; some days </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">are better, some days are good. I worked during day. I worked at night. I worked for 8 hours, some 12 hours. I worked 5 days a week, some 6, most of the time 7. Until January this year, another similar </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">sign waved in. Like a stranger not so long ago said hello once more. And like in the past, I did not </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">only wave at the sign, I obeyed the sign.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I processed my transfer, immediately after the door opened fully for me to enter. It was rough. I had </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">fears. I had competitors. I had doubts. But for the strong-willed, no amount of fear, competition, and doubt win over. There were moments of many </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">questioning. Many times of reconsidering. A lot of stepping back once to be able to move forward </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">twice.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">As the sun sets in the west, and as it rises in the east, our life, is destined for certain purpose. What </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">are you made of? Looking for that purpose, in my case, took a very long time to find. People around me asked, “Why did you transfer?” And every time, I looked back at those years of many failures, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">victories, upsets and happiness. I asked the question, What memories lasted? What memories faded? What were the times when I had renewed energy? What were the times when I got so drained? What were the times when I laughed the loudest? What were the times when I cried the most tears?</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p0" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I have answered the questions well enough. I have taken the detour in life. I have found my way back home. </span></div>
Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-10928477726447400052016-07-30T07:55:00.001-07:002016-07-30T18:46:37.988-07:00Merkado in Art District<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The inspiration to write has a switch. But unlike switches wherein you can just press up or down to turn it on, writing belongs to a different kind. To turn it on is like yawning when you feel sleepy. Or running when a mad dog attacks you. Or singing when you hear (or at least when I hear) this on the radio, "When I think of home I think of a place where there's love overflowing..." The process has been like that. Today, I get back to write because I found this beautiful place. I was lost along Lacson Street way past Robinsons Mall, walked under a gloomy sky, when I saw this signage, Merkado, within Art District. No one was inside. That made it more interesting. </span></div><div><br></div><div> Inside, this met my eyes.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO_wilGwrvZK7N9WBNv9yk0e8EtCZbUVrkVSEkv4a92hw8VmJ7JrTPw8pQVEyYYJS8vLoewI5XffbBKsHASgxPznCZkKaw68uF174_5U9f7-ncepD8LdTqVWP_EknBqbYSDZCyXIE5u3p1/s640/blogger-image-1969655315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO_wilGwrvZK7N9WBNv9yk0e8EtCZbUVrkVSEkv4a92hw8VmJ7JrTPw8pQVEyYYJS8vLoewI5XffbBKsHASgxPznCZkKaw68uF174_5U9f7-ncepD8LdTqVWP_EknBqbYSDZCyXIE5u3p1/s640/blogger-image-1969655315.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>I have always loved wood furnitures so I stayed and checked the menu. And the music commanded me to stay.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlJJH5xpBrkhXlhJXrMiuI6o5_DLfEQ3wBv3z1ENtmnpQJruiJMJPmRaDFaq6QIu5OjXhRyN2iaTOTb5Dmcimc302YFjd8nUV82Du0RGNrIJsBT9YMysj_26kynUOph-PPUhO_5HF83QtM/s640/blogger-image-1521747031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlJJH5xpBrkhXlhJXrMiuI6o5_DLfEQ3wBv3z1ENtmnpQJruiJMJPmRaDFaq6QIu5OjXhRyN2iaTOTb5Dmcimc302YFjd8nUV82Du0RGNrIJsBT9YMysj_26kynUOph-PPUhO_5HF83QtM/s640/blogger-image-1521747031.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>It was cold outside and even colder inside so I decided to get a hot drink - hot cocoa. It was heavenly. And easy on the pocket. And you have the option to use honey as sweetener. Honey, it was so good on the palate. I want more warming, so I ordered, fish tinola.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xYNAdiF7eFHKjaLrPnTCgTT6cxX4u-LuNqVFHmSYbyTsUuvkwx4Qp3EmpcVLZsysPztO-kICPwApJ9501b5WZa7CgkP-EbTVblTwsYoEWu6EBYJnHA1C2VBaxySP3_D5rIO0iAzlB3TJ/s640/blogger-image--1118960578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xYNAdiF7eFHKjaLrPnTCgTT6cxX4u-LuNqVFHmSYbyTsUuvkwx4Qp3EmpcVLZsysPztO-kICPwApJ9501b5WZa7CgkP-EbTVblTwsYoEWu6EBYJnHA1C2VBaxySP3_D5rIO0iAzlB3TJ/s640/blogger-image--1118960578.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx95I5tX5snZzVwA-aa2r-8kNXOJ_OdN04u4F7bU9GGTvWNxkpCAz1eb59X8iEpy3zWRZVw2wAqKDWRFYsnTDf6Ld3Gk6mMGE7eYjGlqROrs5fhkhk0hiwRS0HekCgozDOCnTtqysduni1/s640/blogger-image--708977870.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx95I5tX5snZzVwA-aa2r-8kNXOJ_OdN04u4F7bU9GGTvWNxkpCAz1eb59X8iEpy3zWRZVw2wAqKDWRFYsnTDf6Ld3Gk6mMGE7eYjGlqROrs5fhkhk0hiwRS0HekCgozDOCnTtqysduni1/s640/blogger-image--708977870.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>And yes, they have red rice. In fact, they have black rice too. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiaIY2ZHjCBG5JRhPiui2xh6WzeJOgTaQxNYFAt2HdCV-m5qmFHZoaQ9rzStzNreciGo0a0yiPB6P97_lMEywcKOqNq66wV1V49iCtzP6H6j3oU7vPqCaznz_9WVfE6yp1Hgag4Sav2jFt/s640/blogger-image-533402500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiaIY2ZHjCBG5JRhPiui2xh6WzeJOgTaQxNYFAt2HdCV-m5qmFHZoaQ9rzStzNreciGo0a0yiPB6P97_lMEywcKOqNq66wV1V49iCtzP6H6j3oU7vPqCaznz_9WVfE6yp1Hgag4Sav2jFt/s640/blogger-image-533402500.jpg"></a></div> </div><div>This afternoon is about two things. Getting lost but finding one great place to dine. </div>Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-19398802125828771762016-07-20T08:47:00.002-07:002016-07-20T09:00:02.639-07:00Gay MarieI call her with her Gay Marie. She calls me Jay Cris. When Mel and Jay, two famous tv show hosts, parted ways in television, Gay and I started our toastmasters journey in 2007. Our first meeting was very memorable. Well to make it more vivid. It was embarrassing. It was one Friday evening. She delivered a speech. I was her evaluator. She was so full of energy and honestly she was already very good for basic speech project number 4. I tried to match her being articulate and energy, I opened my evaluation with my usual loud voice saying, Good evening TM Gay Marie Gane. She was single at that time. When suddenly all barangay toastmaster members chorused in telling me - Gane! I was silent. Well, I was embarrassed. Moral of the story, you can never be too good with names. Most of the time, they are so tricky. Since then, we became inseparable as hosts. When Riverside and Barangay did joint meetings, such as during Buwan ng Wika meeting, we took the role as toastmasters of the evening. Perhaps we complemented well, that fellow toastmasters took it to a higher level. When Division D hosted the Midyear Convention in 2008, we hosted together the Masskara themed Fellowship night, where Marty Go of ABS CBN did an ambush interview after the event. If Mel and Jay watched that interview, they would have realized, they did what was right - ended the show. In with the new, out with the old. We journeyed together in our respective toastmasters life. We both became Club Presidents in 2010 where she led Barangay to achieve Presidents Distinguished Club. It was also in her term as President that BTMC turned 50 years. But I tell you, she is not as old as her club. We became Area Governors also in the same year, 2013, the year when both of us stopped competing with each other in a Speech Contest. Simply because we are not allowed to compete. Otherwise, we are always on the same stage trying to outdo one another! Those were the very rare moments that our friendship is put on hold! We don't smile at each other and no one accepts any beverage even for free be it coffee or juice if it comes from me or from her. In other words, stay away from your enemy. If its contest time, its friendship over for us! But of course whatever the results of the contest, we became friends again! We both suffered from short-term memory loss. I must say though that she is undeniably the best table topics speaker of the division! That being said, she became Division Champion in Table Topics three times. A record for any toastmaster in the division. And in 2014, she won 1st Runner Up in National Table Topics Contest. She was also Division Champion in Evaluation and Prepared International Speech. To complete her collection would only be one, being a Division Humorous Speech Champion. Who knows, next year, she will be. Now that she is taking another toastmaster track which is on leadership, I couldn't be more proud. I know she will leave beautiful memories and legacies as a leader as she said, its now time to give back to the organization that she loves and she works full-time even without pay. In fact if her efforts given to toastmasters will have monetary yield, undoubtedly she will be the richest toastmaster. Her passion is flaming hot that its very very contagious! Her passion is the energy that drives excellence and superior results! Fellow slaves and servants, how about a big round of applause to our Division Director, very soon to be Distinguished Toastmaster Gay Marie Gane Tiu!Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-1469401383049887542016-05-03T22:32:00.001-07:002016-05-03T22:32:48.946-07:00Lessons From A Seesaw<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was growing up, people tell me, "Jay, soar
high" or "Fly high like an eagle." Now that I am over 20’s, they
tell me, "Jay, What goes up, must come down" or Jay, it's lonely at
the top." Now I end up confused. Then I realized the world is full of
confusing Confucius. And so I began to think, really, where should I position
myself - up or down.<br />
<br />
Then this Pia Wurtzback moment happened <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in one of the seminars I attended with this
question, "If you were to find an object that resembles your life, what
would that be?" I began to do what they say, connecting the dots by
looking backward. Confidently beautiful with a heart, I answered, “My life is like
a seesaw.”<br />
<br />
My sister and I are not only siblings. We are also the best of friends. Every
sundays, after we attend mass, we would sneak out of our parents eyes, and play
the seesaw. My sister, being bigger and heavier at that time, would always
bring the other end of the seesaw at its highest position, her evil smile all
over her face while my face got paler and paler out of fear from falling. Then I
realized its not only lonely at the top. It is scary at the top.<br />
<br />
My academic life in grade school and in high school also resembles that of a
seesaw. I was first honors in grade 1, second honors in grade 2, third honors
in grade 3, and guess what <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>place I
landed in grade 4? I was first honors again. In grade 5, I was second honors,
and in grade 6, I graduated... Second honors. In high school, I finished 1st
year with fourth honors, 2nd year with 3rd honors, 3rd year with 1st honors,
and graduated high school with 2nd honors. My medal collection just like your
multivitamins, they are complete. And I bet if my parents can only bring back
time, they would have named me Segundo or Thirdy.<br />
<br />
For a high school student who devoted his exciting four years with extra
curricular activities writing for the school paper as a feature editor,
competed in Regional Schools Press Conference, represented the school in
declamation and oratorical contests, and end up being a Chemist, elicited
reactions ranging from a simple rise of the right eyebrow to the most
detestable question as if <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I committed a
heinous crime, "Why? What happened?" And when I tell them, “Chemistry
has all the solutions in life.” They just look at me, leave, and never look
back.<br />
<br />
I spent my four years in college, balancing equations. Our chemistry professor
will just barge inside Science Complex 115, write chemical
reactions on the board, and tell us, "balance the equation!" When she
comes back, she will tell us, "Insufficient, inadequate, wrong. You cannot
graduate if you cannot balance equations!”<br />
<br />
Many years ago, I had a funny story in Dumaguete City where I was already followed
by the ambulance because I was already the last runner and made a resolve to
hitch in the vehicle instead thus I restored my 7 pesos fare going back to the
hotel, and most especially, my ego. I got super addicted to running. At
first I was content with 5 kilometers, progressed to 10 kilometers, then to 21
kilometers. I ran all runs there were available, from 30 kilometers to 34
kilometers, and to 50 kilometers while working, while staying late at night
with friends, while making the most out of life. I was always in a hurry. I was
always beating the red light trying to do all things in day. Because I thought
I am invincible. No one and nothing can stop me. <br />
<br />
Until I was confined in the hospital for 4 days. It was the longest red light
of my life. Like in a seminar when things go out of order we say, "Process
Check!", "Process Check!"<br />
<br />
And then suddenly, I remembered the seesaw game with my sister. How I felt fear
gripped me because because I was at the top. Had it been going up and
down, I would have enjoyed the game. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
how my academic years were going up and down nevertheless I discovered my love
for writing and public speaking. And how in College should we muster the art of
balancing equations to graduate. These events in my life point to one word:
Balance. Chemists balance equations. CPA's balance worksheets. Jounalists write
balanced stories.<br />
<br />
Man by natute is insatiable. Ambitious. When we achieve small sucessess in life
we don’t usually stop. We want more. More money. More fame. More power. But in
those four days I spent lying in my hospital bed made me realize that the
traffic of our life cannot just be purely green. To just go, go, and go. Get,
get, and get. We must learn to obey the orange light and most especially the
red light. Learning when to pause and learning when to stop. When times comes
when you are so down, strike a balance. When you are over speeding, strike a balance.
From a balanced seesaw, to a balanced equation, to what we call a balanced
life. So its not, "Jay soar high, or Jay what goes up must come down, but
Jay srike to balance." </div>
Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-16808806708965989772016-02-14T00:59:00.001-08:002016-02-14T00:59:34.841-08:00Danjugan Island<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEier8evveZwKWUc7nbwBqMyYaYLneU07W_Z3C4frLfE9h2OF3SZ4oHPPdTR1cudB3ZAAcIkiKzoQOR5pUAwEKKUgAW4dC8ly5miDE0RT4TSakEIA1lQ1IzAT8Eosdoi4h5ezYUUuiuJafzv/s640/blogger-image-1937645445.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEier8evveZwKWUc7nbwBqMyYaYLneU07W_Z3C4frLfE9h2OF3SZ4oHPPdTR1cudB3ZAAcIkiKzoQOR5pUAwEKKUgAW4dC8ly5miDE0RT4TSakEIA1lQ1IzAT8Eosdoi4h5ezYUUuiuJafzv/s640/blogger-image-1937645445.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZQ249gUhIgRp5Ku5Iccd9uIh19ZRFhJvxhxwUoghV6XS4IUJeIo63AkMXlNZC7DA3-Hm0sJSmd_9WGCzrxLozmd8gnML6hHQhNKVgGjuh7ys6PqHKhHl1LaTu935sE1SRKC6ZIXR1-cUW/s640/blogger-image-787833918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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February 10, 2016</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsm8bF55FhTPrO39TOTMbrsE-EEP0wAXDQXz79AHan36yYQyb33aWUJkDD9uJKg52rM60U7GN53ZQHlbTaP8muTPsT_ehZbgsh1NrAO5NVFTCYo9zYTPFQwjUvCxAnqySqFh1YGo6lzYto/s640/blogger-image--161871498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsm8bF55FhTPrO39TOTMbrsE-EEP0wAXDQXz79AHan36yYQyb33aWUJkDD9uJKg52rM60U7GN53ZQHlbTaP8muTPsT_ehZbgsh1NrAO5NVFTCYo9zYTPFQwjUvCxAnqySqFh1YGo6lzYto/s640/blogger-image--161871498.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div>1. Finished reading on January 17, 2016.<div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxJYa7_mxT2Dmu0frzLMBYZnpGS_tB9iddYO1ewCWwBTDf-wKIWuHNItT_NpmezyqaY77DCFA9WRGPX0AGg1K9Sc0d_YrKsvudfq30w8T-Rv7YLXd52J-KOf1po5a_IyX0IQ1csYn8cqS2/s640/blogger-image--1880454865.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxJYa7_mxT2Dmu0frzLMBYZnpGS_tB9iddYO1ewCWwBTDf-wKIWuHNItT_NpmezyqaY77DCFA9WRGPX0AGg1K9Sc0d_YrKsvudfq30w8T-Rv7YLXd52J-KOf1po5a_IyX0IQ1csYn8cqS2/s640/blogger-image--1880454865.jpg"></a></div>Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-78835663500469186732016-01-16T08:54:00.001-08:002016-01-16T08:54:56.752-08:00Guintubdan Falls in La Carlota City<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgj9na4W0WXG0aXAgfH0_P5Wh7x0ku8kgXdsPNUDnDDWk7vf-DpVU5sJxIqm5WogIgQ-xNZINLeZsI4yzoEX6ephzS1BpF2oPAY-R7HJaBeFFq4NRpu9s2wgolyWRErlI03dR9_rirhaRq/s640/blogger-image-1620387404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnXPj27x4vFebwe7IwWV8CJ736qyXBNQsv6AmdXLne7GSRWlb9duMfTk-Z3QcIfxVucDH5W2-IcvVBwLnYdCnfHvKFb4QAysFSt9wy778QRAYhPbG3mNGK9Kyww9cORDRZMmHH5f0fMbj5/s640/blogger-image--349334303.jpg"></a></div>Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-91588018174899832242016-01-09T02:25:00.001-08:002016-01-17T06:39:03.956-08:00To Write is To Make it RightThere comes a time when we write because we want to. There also comes a time when we write because we need to. This is one piece of writing that comes so easily because I need to. Read on.<div>
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Good day. I can now afford to write that greeting because this was written few days after January 02. Otherwise, this should have immediately started below. </div>
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This is to formally file a complaint against a Montenegro Shipping lady staff on duty in the morning of January 02, 2016 at the port of Siquijor for negligence of duty which borders to gross incompetence with regard to her supposed roles and responsibilities as a ticketing staff of the said shipping company. In as much as we wanted to keep our peace, we cannot stand to keep mum about what had happened, simply because it is so wrong and that we don't want this incident to happen to us again and to other people. </div>
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We arrived at the port of Siquijor at around 8:45 in the morning of January 02, 2016. I was with my sister and brother-in-law. When we arrived, people already flocked outside of a certain fastfood house waiting for the ticketing table of Montenegro to start issuing tickets. We decided to have breakfast. At around 9am, a lady from Montenegro shipping arrived. My brother-in-law lined up. Suddenly a commotion erupted. One foreigner and a local quarreled as to which line was the legitimate one. A police officer in uniform instructed to only form two lines. However, the foreigner insisted that his queue was the only line allowed. The local did not agree. The lady staff of Montenegro kept silent, ignoring the loud exchange of arrogance from both men. Both of them wanted to be right. She issued a ticket to the foreigner. My brother-in-law was in the line where the foreigner lined up. But when she already issued the ticket to the foreigner she shouted that the only allowed line was the other line - the line not instructed by the police officer because according to her, that line was longer than the other. She made a point with conviction that she will only issue tickets from that line. That was when my sister approached her and told her that the police officer was the one who made the order of forming that line. And she heard it. She, in fact, issued a ticket to the foreigner coming from that line. She said no! That's when I stood up and told her she should have arrived earlier so as not to cause the rumble and chaos. But she retorted telling me she was in Larena issuing tickets and that she was just alone doing the job and that she was still making a report. Now her irrationality and incompetence filed up. Finally, she agreed to alternately issue tickets to both lines. What struck me the most was when she said, that was the last ticket to be issued, not minding the people at the back who patiently waited under the heat of the sun, hopeful to get their tickets. She should have told the people who lined up, "I can NOW only ACCOMMODATE until 5 or 10 people, WHATEVER THE CASE MAY BE. Such gross incompetence! I felt small as a Filipino, she existed. Pardon.</div>
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I cannot understand and I believe I need an explanation on the following:</div>
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1. Why is it that Montenegro shipping only assigned one ticketing staff on a holiday and a New Year at that?</div>
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2. Why is it that that lonesome lady seemed so incompetent to carry out her job? She should have arrived earlier in the ticketing table. She should have informed that the shipping line can only accommodate this much. She should have requested the police officer to help her and do the counting for her. She should have stood up and spoken up to pacify the erring parties. She should have been so organized knowing she was only the one in the table. But she FAILED in all of these.</div>
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What made the matters worse were her remarks:</div>
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1. We should be submissive to foreigners at all times and at all cost because they are assets. (even if they are wrong?)</div>
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2. When the crowd dissipated with her announcement of no tickets available, she kept murmuring why my group got angry with her. Huh!? I told her, "shouldn't we speak up to point out your unfair treatment, jugdment, and incompetence?" </div>
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I believe one should speak up and let this problem be known for immediate correction and corrective action. "Evil flourish only when good men do nothing." </div>
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There is still hope in this country. I believe so. I would like to believe that there are still good men working to make this country a worthy place to live in.</div>
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Respectfully yours,</div>
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Jay Cris Famoso</div>
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Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-5403289288182140182015-08-29T20:20:00.006-07:002016-01-17T06:39:09.850-08:00Don’t Swim on Good Fridays<div class="MsoNormal">
Julie! Julie! Help! I screamed like crazy. I waved my hand up in the air as she didn’t seem
to notice. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jul! Jul! Come over here! I was slowly moving away from her
and from the shore. She did not have the faintest idea I was calling for rescue.
In fact, she just waved and smiled back. I was scanning the shoreline for JR
but he was too far. He seemed to really not care about anything else except for
what’s underwater.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Feeling helpless, I took in enough air, and shouted, “I am
drowning!” I need help.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Julie is a fairly good swimmer. She moved, really fast. Or perhaps she saw I
was moving away faster.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Julie, JR, and I took our lunch in one of islands of
Gigantes. That was Good Friday. After the seafood treat, we allowed our bodies
to rest and spread carefree in the shoreline like we owned it. The sun was up
showing its might so we chose to stay under the generous shade of palm trees. “It’s
3 o clock”, the boatman announced. We rolled
up our bodies soaked in white sand and ready for our last dip in that island. We
readied our snorkel, which by the way, were all new. Haha. It got its first test
of waters in Gigantes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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That day seemed ideal for swimming. We rushed to the sea
before we rush to the next island. I floated like a log, face underwater,
carefree, and directionless. I just let the water took me to the wonders
underneath. “I was like saying, “Take me, I‘ll follow.” There were times that I
get a glimpse of Julie and JR when I removed seawater from my snorkel. Didn’t I
say, it was new? I was still getting the hang of it. It seemed like a fair day
for the three of us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
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Thirty minutes past three, I noticed I was already the farthest
from the shore. Feeling uneasy about it, I made a U turn, and tried to swim
like an authentic swimmer. I spread my arms and kicked my legs, spread them
again and kicked, spread and kicked. But I noticed, it made no little
difference. Donned with an orange life jacket, I calmed myself. I floated for a
while. Gathered some strength. Then swam. And kicked. I moved not closer but
father from the island. That was when I knew, I needed help.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br></div>
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So I looked around and saw Julie. JR maintained a closer
distance to the shoreline. I shouted at Julie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Julie! Julie! Help! I screamed like crazy. I waved my hand up in the air as she didn’t seem
to notice. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jul! Jul! Come over here! I was slowly moving away from her
and from the shore. She did not have the faintest idea I was looking for rescue.
In fact, she just waved and smiled back. I was scanning the shoreline for JR
but he was too far. He seemed to really not care about anything else except
for what’s underwater.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Feeling helpless, I took in enough air, and shouted, “I am
drowning!” I need help.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Julie is a fairly good swimmer. She moved, really fast. Or perhaps she saw I
was moving away faster.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Julie reached my side, she held me like a child with
one arm, and swam like a fish. But we were not moving, at all. She made all
mightiest attempts she learned in swimming but failed. The current was too strong to counter. I was thinking of
drowning and dying. “Julie, we will be headlines tomorrow!”, I said to her like
I mean it. She did not mind me. She instead taught me how to swim on my own. And
I obeyed. But I seemed to swim backwards. Being dramatic again, I said, “
Julie, we are going to die!” She answered back, “Shut up!” I can feel she’s
mad. I don’t know if it’s me or the situation. Maybe it was me. She made a tall order that we
swim far from the island because that’s where there is less current. As always, I obeyed the order and was very
quiet this time. I let her be the captain - Captain Julie. But all our efforts
went for naught. I gave up swimming. I just stayed in the waters. And yes we
are still moving, moving away from the shoreline.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Julie and I decided to part ways. I told her, I go to the
island, and move sideways, getting hold of the rock formations until I get to
the other side of the island and call for rescue. She will remain in the seas
on the lookout for boats that could possibly rescue us. As I parted from her, I
can see Julie waving her hand to signal help from the passing boats. But the
guests just waved back. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I reached the sidelines. I felt safer. Not until I saw the
bigger waves hampering me. And the rocks were pointed in formation, it can lash
out your palm anytime. Plus of course, I need to hold firmer on the rocks to
keep me steady. And there were crawling
sea creatures, not so friendly-looking, which competes for the space in the
rocks you’re holding on to. But I ignored them all. Steadily, I moved inch
after inch. I can see I’m near. I felt my breath getting back to normal. I felt
safer now. Until, I saw, from a distance, our boat with JR and Julie already in
it, waving their hands at me. How should I feel? Relieved or embarrassed? I think
both and in that order.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Don’t swim on Good Fridays!<o:p></o:p></div>
Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-42121344499001741482015-04-26T20:22:00.003-07:002016-01-17T06:39:06.082-08:00Room 440Room 440. Its was a small room, small enough that you can explore its bareness in a second. It has one patient's bed with a not-so-soft pillow, a brown watcher's bed near the closed window, two plastic white chair, and a small table. You can see whiteness all over. All walls are barren white made whiter by two fluorescent lamps; one at the center and the other at the patient's head. I entered this room, Tuesday, April 21.<br>
<br>
It was Saturday, April 18, at around 5:45pm when I arrived in Bacolod from Manila for a badminton tourney. I was chilling hot. I did not have an extra piece of cloth within my reach to drive away the cold. And I was terribly coughing in a 5-second interval. Imagine that for a 1-hour flight. My thoughts ran wild. I was imagining if they have a sound-proof room in the plane where I could transfer. And I am wiling to pay. That was how terrible I felt with the disturbance I gave, especially to my seat-mates. So I just prayed hard that my seat-mates wont mind. Good thing, I was seated at the last row, seat number 33. But the not-so-good scenario is that I was seated at the center. I was looking at each of them. The one at my left was wearing a headset. A relief. On my right, the window side, she was deeply asleep, or perhaps just pretending, so I won't be humiliated.<br>
<br>
I rented a cab all for myself, coughing continued, but at least this time, the sound was only between the driver and I. I arrived home - weak, tired, and sick. I took one tablet of biogesic and immediately hit the sack. I felt better the next day. In fact, I reported for work Monday, April 20.<br>
<br>
While at work, at around 6pm, I noticed, I was getting hotter. Please take it literally. I took another biogesic and cleaned up my area. I need to be home to rest. I just bought large fries and spaghetti in the nearest Mc Donald's in case my stomach will demand for food. I only finished the large fries and half of my pineapple juice for dinner and slept. In the middle of the night, I told myself, I need to admit myself.<br>
<br>
The next day, April 21, I filled my bag with clothes, toiletries, and chargers. I carried myself alone in the hospital. I told the information at Riverside Medical Center that I want to admit myself. I haven't finished my statement yet, she already pointed her hand to the admitting section. I obeyed and took my priority number - 33. I filled out some forms and signed them. And I was instructed to proceed to the emergency. I was terrified. What? How worse am I? Why the emergency room? But they know better so I followed. I was made to lie down in a moving bed and changed my shirt to a hospital gown. The nurse took my BP and pulse rate. And the doctor went to my side and interviewed me. He threw so many questions of which the answers I can hardly recall. I can even feel his impatience growing bigger. A lady nurse took blood samples and a man in his forties gave me an ECG. When the doctor left, a male nurse went to me and he was shaking a container. I asked, "What is that for?" And he replied, "You need to wear oxygen mask." I exclaimed, "Huh?" "I am breathing fine." "Please ask the doctor again!" And he did not come back.<br>
<br>
Another test was scheduled - xray. I was lying in bed when the assistant told me we are going to the xray laboratory at the second floor. I told him, "I can walk upstairs." And he said it cannot be. Once admitted, walking is taboo. So I passed through hallways, rode in elevators in my metal bed, where strangers look at me with pity in their eyes.<br>
<br>
The worst part of being admitted was the time when you are injected with the needle for my dextrose and antibiotic. But I learned, it was only painful in the beginning. I can feel the liquid literally running through my veins. It felt uneasy but you will learn to embrace it. And live through it. Because at this point in your life, you don't make choices. The doctor does. And you are in complete obedience.<br>
<br>
I was first transferred to a suite room in the 5th floor because at that time a Regular Private is not yet available. And wow, it was like a hotel accommodation. The room has big sofa with a center table. The curtains are thick and expansive. The space is big that it can accommodate a coffee party. And the best part of it all is that it is a room with a view. The left window ushered in a scenic mountain view and a beautiful sunset. The window in front of me revealed nature's greenery - big, tall trees and the Silverio Mansion.<br>
<br>
I was enjoying my suite room, when a phone call disturbed it. "Sir, please be ready to transfer to Room 440." I said, "Now?" And he replied, "As soon as you are ready, Sir." I said, "Okay." My voice dropped like an echo vanishing in mid air. Oh life. You have a way of waking us up to reality.<br>
<br>
I can hardly sleep during my first night in the hospital. I was worried I might ran over my left arm with a needle inside my vein. In fact, I dreamed of it, that I visualized it so vivid and real. I saw blood bursting from my left hand and the tubes already detached. How I was so terrified was beyond words to translate. But then again, our body easily adjusts. The next day, I was sleeping already like a log. I opened doors. Sometimes, I eat by myself. I wash my own spoon and fork. I live by it. I am titanium. Four days in the hospital. Four days of extreme solitude. Four days of learning to be strong. It was at room 440, that life revealed some of its lessons. Lessons taught so well.<br>
<br>Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-51226787949266837092015-03-20T20:07:00.000-07:002016-01-17T06:39:13.259-08:00AN ULTRA RUN IS NOT JUST THAT<div class="MsoNormal">
Perhaps, a lot of people will just shrug it off and say
EVERYBODY can RUN. And they would even cite an example; one man with only one
leg can even finish a marathon! Wait. True enough, we all can run. But not an ultra
marathon. Truth is, an ULTRA RUN is not just an Ultra Run.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The year was 2014, during Masskara Festival, when I realized
Ultra running is not just for people with two strong legs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gun time was 2AM, Sunday. I went out of the office at 4PM so I can sleep
and gather enough strength I need. How much strength? That I cannot accurately
answer. The plan was to wake up at 12 midnight. I was so ready for sleep to
come. Lights off. AC blasting. Complete silence. Thirty minutes after, I was
still awake and alert. I was what the song of John Farnham described, “I toss
and turn. Can’t sleep at night. It’s worrying me.” I patiently extended the
wait for Sleep to finally arrive but another 30 minutes passed, I was fully
aware of how many turns I have made in my bed. So I grabbed the TV remote
control and turned on the set. Now Showing: MMK. That hooked me more to
alertness. I finished it without difficulty. And yes, I did not sleep before
the run. Time check: 12 Midnight. I rolled out of bed and prepared myself for
insanity. For the craziest adventure ever!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Start - Capitol lagoon. Oh boy, while my cab was rolling its wheels in
the city, envy crept in my body. From my seat, I can see happiness through my
window. While for me, soon I will set off on a journey of the unknown. That
moment when choosing is too late. No turning back. The cab cannot enter Lacson
Street, so I unloaded at the back of Mcdo. I grabbed a cup of brewed coffee. At
1AM, I was the odd in a multitude of people. While they were dressed for a
street party, I was in my Black New Balance Shorts, yellow Yonex Shirt, and my
Neon Green K Swiss shoes. I almost wanted to hide myself. But as I looked
around, I can see the apathy of people, so that help erased the awkwardness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Time check: 2AM. I pinched my arm. Yes, this is so real. I
readied myself, physically. Stretching, jogging in place, and praying. My heart’s
beating became erratic when I heard the bang! I ran. Very slow. Slowly. I was in a group in the first 10 kilometers. It
made me smile because at 2AM, we have an audience around. And of course, with
people’s eyes on you, you run, not walk. Or else, they will have something to
say. After the 15<sup>th</sup> kilometer, the separation of the best, better,
good, and not-so-good runners, became obvious. Where do I belong? I am not
saying. Ha! Ha!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I did not know, some parts of the road we traversed did not
have street lights. And there were no houses around. Only sugarcane in both
sides. With nothing to see on the road, I just prayed, I cannot step on shits,
sharp objects, and snakes. We arrived in Murcia Public Plaza, still very dark,
but sweating profusely. We stopped to catch our breath, and indulged in boiled
bananas and water. As much as we wanted to stay longer and fill our tummies,
this we know we cannot afford. The finish line was very expensive. The running continued.
Until we reached Mambukal. This came in as good news; 30 kilometers conquered. The
other side of the equation brought in the no-so-good-news; 20 kilometers to go.
Keep the faith. Keep the sanity. Keep running. The day already ushered some
light and so we thought of having breakfast. It was timely that we found a decent
restaurant which was still closed when we arrived. Time check: 6AM. Their
signage says, “WE open at 7AM”. We did not give up. We shouted, “Tagbalay!” And
perhaps with the way we look, the owner, with alertness, opened the gate of the
restaurant. We gave ourselves the treat our bodies greatly deserved. So we had
full breakfast – we ordered fish tinola. Time ticked so fast when we are not on
the road. Ha! Ha! The full breakfast took one hour. The walking and running
continued while the sun revealed its might fiercely as the day progressed. We reached
Kipot bridge and indulged in their famous brewed coffee (made famous because of
the socks as filter. Who’s socks? Ha! Ha!).<o:p></o:p></div>
<br>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The elevation was becoming more painful. Although, the prize
is, it’s getting colder. You cannot have
it all, as they say. We marched and marched the long and winding road of La
Carlota. That last 8 kilometer stretch was perhaps the most challenging part of
the run. That was the mental and psychological attack. When your body is
already very, very tired, the decision to give up becomes as easy as 1,2, 3 or
A, B, C. And this separates what ultra runners understand. An Ultra run is not just an Ultra run. When we
ask residents along the way, some would say, “Just Continue, You’re Near”. This
is good news to our ears. But others would ruin that by saying, “Are you losing
your mind? That is way too far.” Some would even insult us by giving us coins
so we could ride instead. Now the decision to listen or just shrug it off is in
your hands. To finish or not to finish. That is the question. The Chinese
proverb is correct when it said, a slow steady action is more important than
standing still. We walked. And walked. Even in our power naps, we were walking!
We should be moving. Because it is the only way to get to the finish line.<o:p></o:p></div>
Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-37634534787167755012014-11-27T05:45:00.001-08:002014-11-27T05:45:04.462-08:00It All Started in Cauayan<html><body>It was just suppose to be a birthday escape. Entering a new decade, I thought of celebrating it, differently, if words can faithfully describe it.<br /><br />It was one of those aimless walks in the central walk of Robinsons when my gaze met this, Summer Beachcapade in Cauyan on May 10. Meant to be? Yes! But honestly, the main deal was not, running. I was excited for, Volleyball.<br /><br />Running and I, matter-of-factly, has this: a love-hate relationship. Who wouldn't hate it? I was humiliated by it, in my own hometown. Read, "I don't Ride, I Run" for the complete story.<br /><br />When we arrived in El Tzino, Cauyan, happiness is slowly coming from a far. The warm summer breeze. The sight of the waves frolicking with the sand. The stationary yellow boat under the moving blue sky. The unassuming stance of the mangrove trees. Nature had it beautifully painted before me, canvass not needed.<br /><br />When we add years to our lives, we are hit by certain realities. But when we reach 30, the hitting becomes harder. The inescapable kind. Unignorable. The kind where it will wake you up in an afternoon nap. And one of which is my, running a half-marathon. That dream was temporarily left on the side, after many years ago, it taught me, that running requires practice and discipline. That it is not something you decide in an instant and you say, today I will wear my running gears, and run 21 kilometers. <br /><br />I parked this dream years ago, and I picked it up, in the silent town of Cauyan. I said in my interview with Simply Emmy that it has to happen now. Youth is not forever. The energy and vitality we posses today is not eternal. So I decided to finally do it.<br /><br />The Cauayan run was my Birthday Run. Although, that information was only shared between myself and my officemate, Johanna. But of course after that, facebook revealed what was once a secret. And now I pledged that next year, a chocolate cake will be shared under the Lomboy tree in El Tzino. A trail run is not your ordinary run. Perhaps, if I may estimate, it is a road run times 3. What made it more intimidating was the fact that, participants were what we call the "elite" runners. Having said that, they were the fast species. But I really don't mind. Haha.<br /><br />Gun start at 3pm for the 10k and 21k categories. The sun was proudly up when we started. It was fun. Well to be more accurate, it was challenging. We went up and down of hills and valleys. We were treated with scenic mountaintop view of the Cauayan seas. And the abandoned sugarcane factory by the beach now rustic and lifeless was a view worth noticing. Mt. Delirium from the name itself need no further explanation. The food stations were generous - boiled bananas, chocolates, candies. In one of the stops, I feasted on boiled bananas. Perhaps 3 or 4. The lady at the station honestly blurted, "Panginaon na guid na imo ya". Hungry as I was at that time, I did not mind. At the onset of sunset, I made it to the finish line. My birthday gift to myself was a bucket of sweat, a medal designed with local shells, and the boiled bananas. Heaven.<br /><br />From then on, I was joining runs, here and there. Weekend after weekend. Not skipping a run, I was practically having 100 percent attendance. It was madness. Thus, I already have all colors of a singlet you can imagine. Add also to that some medals which I faithfully earned. I crossed seas, in Iloilo and Guimaras, to keep those happy feet moving. <br /><br />Until September this year, I was so excited to be reunited with an old enemy. Time for the annual Milo Marathon. With all the fun runs from 10k-21k and the road runs from Caltex East to Alangilan, I was ready for this enemy. I was equipped. True enough, that Sunday, I never felt braver and prouder in my life. It was joy. I, after 5 years of doubting, was able to ran my half-marathon. Dreams do come true.<br /><br />It only takes, baby steps, to get closer to that dream. In fact, I have traveled 50kilometers already, chasing for that goal. People said it is very far. I said, oh yes, it was very far! In fact, that far, far distance sent me to sleep beside the road. Thank God, Charmie woke me up.<br /><br />A small, baby step I took in Cauayan led me to bigger, bolder steps today. I would not have defeated my long-time enemy if not for those baby steps. No wonder, dreams are for free. I dreamt. In fact, I dreamed big dreams. Today I can say, the biggest dreams create the biggest joys in my life.<div style="clear: both;"></div></body></html>Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-4848195078946484792014-09-26T20:26:00.001-07:002014-09-26T20:26:49.237-07:00The Singing Runner<html><body>"You again!"<br /><br />"Yes, it's me!"<br /><br />"Will you ever stop, Jay?"<br /><br />"Yes! Yes of course! I will stop when there will be no contests!"<br /><br />That has been the yearly script of fellow toastmasters when they see me as a fellow contestant. Not until this year, the script changed!<br /><br />"Jay? You are joining the humorous speech contest, with a confused-oh-no-why-kill-me-now look!" That hurts! But despite that, here I am, I stand in front of you as a humorous contestant. <br /><br />I have installed CCTV's in all corners of the room. Those who will laugh like crazy will have 3 gifts: a lifetime friendship, a case of San Mig Light, and a month-long supply of Starbucks coffee delivered at your doorstep!<br /><br />My motto in life, even if you're not asking, is Live Your Passion. But after this, I fear, you will tell me, "Leave your Passion, Jay". Leave as in, "Close the door, when you leave."<br /><br />I joined toastmasters because I heard from an unimpeachable source that toastmasters have singing contests. Growing up, I always sing alone, on my own, and never invited in singing contests. And so, this is the perfect opportunity. That's what you call, if opportunity does not knock at your door, I was the one who knocked and forced opportunity to enter the door. True enough, my first singing contest is, with toastmasters, and a national level at that. But of course, in times like that, I was just appointed. And I have a feeling, it was because Sai Culanag or Dexter Dano were not available that time. It was in Antipolo Midyear Convention. I placed seventh among seven contestants. But its okay. After all its my first time! My very good friend, Winston Churchill, said Never give up. Never, ever, give up! I was so elated when I got invited to sing in a church wedding, of a very good friend. Wait...I said invited?...Well, I offered myself to sing. I practiced daily. I tried to reach the high notes of Martin Nievera. I vocalized. But on the wedding day, The CD stopped when I was about to sing these lines. Now that I have you for my own. As God is our witness, never let go. Feel the love grow...I practiced that...over and over again. And the CD was stopped! That is why, I sing it here. Now my practice is put to use.<br /><br />On the days, where I am not speaking or singing, you will find me, running. And I will never forget my first 21-kilometer Milo Marathon. I was running, gasping for air, sweating under the 8 morning sun, when I heard this: wang...wang...wang. It was a patrol siren following me. I wondered. For sure, I am not the first runner! What is this? And then I heard people, in a loud conversation, saying, "There, there is the first runner! The champion!" And they were clapping their hands. The patrol man, who was already beside me, with his radio in one hand said, "I am with the last runner of the race, Roger. I am with the last runner of the race, Roger." I wanted to disappear at that moment. I wish I can just press one button to open up the ground, eat me up, and disappear forever. Still not giving up, I said to the man, "Sir, can you just stay a little farther?" And he replied, "No Sir, my task is to accompany the last runner!" And then he radio'ed again, "We are still very far, Roger. We are still very far, Roger." And that drained all the hopes in me. My pride is gone. So I humbly made a request to the patrol man, "Sir, can you offer a ride for me going back to the hotel?" He answered, "I can bring you to the finish line Sir! We've got free ice-cold milo there." I answered, "I'm already tired, Sir. I wanted to rest." Polite way of saying, "No thank you. My pride is more precious than your ice-cold Milo!" I may have not finished the race, but I have saved seven pesos for my <i>fare.</i><br /><br />Life is one big, crazy adventure. We need to be crazy to live life.<br /><br />The crazier you are, the happier you will be.<br /><br />The louder you laugh, the more that we will be friends!<div style="clear: both;"></div></body></html>Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-66182162691388279772014-08-31T05:10:00.001-07:002014-08-31T05:10:40.448-07:00I Don't Ride, I Run<html><body>I was running, gasping for air, sweating under the 8 morning sun, when I heard this: wang...wang...wang. It was a patrol siren following me. I wondered. For sure, I am not the first runner!<br /><br />Fellow toastmasters and guests, I don't ride, I run. <br /><br />When two of my colleagues invited me to join them in Dumaguete for a 21-kilometer race, I, without moments of doubt, said YES! Now I know why, two of them simultaneously grinned when I said that one word - Yes. It was I who gave them, perhaps, the biggest shock in their life.<br /><br />We all run. I run. I belong to the generation where our playground is the street, corn fields, and open lots. So I thought, it will be easy. Oh running, you are my game, is what came running around my mind. <br /><br />It all happened in 2007 during the 31st Milo Marathon. The venue: my hometown Dumaguete. Gun start: 4am. When we arrived in the public plaza, I was astonished with the volume of runners. I said, "Oh, those ambitious little children. Watch me do it", with an arrogant smile. "Excuse me! Excuse me!" as I penetrated the noisy crowd. They were all anxious. I was not. I looked for an open space enough for my arms to circle and stretch. Looking around, I felt so confident, that I can breeze through each one of them, like a speed of an MRT. <br /><br />Suddenly, one man stood up on stage, holding a megaphone, and raising a gun. "21-kilometer-runners, are you ready?" Five. Four. Three. Two. One. And then the gun shot. The crowd of runners rushed. So I rushed. I speeded. But they speeded too. Until I noticed those little children, ran past me. Feeling the insult, I doubled my steps. But they were just...fast! So I tried to forget about those children disrespecting me. I was just running my pace. Well, my turtle pace. No pressure. Im not in a hurry! In my mind, I said, "We will still see each other at the finish line."<br /><br />Feeling a little bit tired already, I realized, oh, this is quiet a long distance. I should have known. But the huge pride in me, shouted, "You should finish!" So I continued to run. When the flesh is weak, even though the spirit is willing, the flesh wins, so I walked. Never mind the judgmental looks of people. I ignored each one of them. And then I heard someone shouted, "Jay Cris, why are you there?" Of course, I was too weak to even shout back. In silence, I just said, "Because I am not lazy like you." I continued telling myself, "Common, these little steps will take you to the finish line." Until, I saw the turning point. What a beautiful sight! I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Ten Kilometer is finally conquered!<br /><br />I was running, gasping for air, sweating under the 8 morning sun, when I heard this: wang...wang...wang. It was a patrol siren following me. I wondered. For sure, I am not the first runner! What is this? And then I heard people, in a loud conversation, saying, "There, there is the first runner! The champion!" And they were clapping their hands. The patrol man, who was already beside me, with his radio in one hand said, "I am with the last runner of the race, Roger. I am with the last runner of the race, Roger." I wanted to disappear at that moment. I wish I can just press one button to open up the ground, eat me up, and disappear forever. Still not giving up, I said to the man, "Sir, can you just stay a little farther?" And he replied, "No Sir, my task is to accompany the last runner!" And then he radio'ed again, "We are still very far, Roger. We are still very far, Roger." And that drained all the hopes in me. My pride is gone. So I humbly made a request to the patrol man, "Sir, can you offer a ride for me going back to the hotel?" He answered, "I can bring you to the finish line Sir! We've got free ice-cold milo there." I answered, "I'm already tired, Sir. I wanted to rest." Polite way of saying, "No thank you. My pride is more precious than your ice-cold Milo!" So there, I stopped running and yes, I am still proud, I saved seven pesos for my fare going back to the hotel.<div style="clear: both;"></div></body></html>Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-31922342421065498982014-01-13T05:55:00.001-08:002014-01-13T06:00:40.999-08:00Questions, Lessons, and Wonderings<html><body>As I sit at the corner where I can hear the sound of coffee-making, feel the coldness of the weather, and get distracted with the blistering lights of vehicles passing by, i return to this blog and write. I am not in Dumaguete but I write now. Perhaps because I try to find some therapy or some sort of "me" time. <br /><br />Earlier, I walked, quite a long distance from 888 to a coffeeshop with the green logo. And more often than not, walking, makes me want to walk through the past, or think about the course of living my life. You see, life is different when you are in your late twenty-something. Somehow, you frequently think of whether you live or merely exist.<br /><br />The cold, crisp air along Lacson Street stirred the melancholic in me that led me to sit down, stare, think, and write.<br /><br />A lot of times, the "pauses" that we experience in our life, or the "stops", or the "silence" are sometimes gifts to us. In moments like this, we let our world stop, look inside us, and ask ourselves the essential question, "Am I living or merely existing?". The daily grind can make us tired, lest, we forget that there is more to it in life. Sometimes when we work so hard, our bodies and mind become so weak, that it leads to make our mind settle to what is routinary and easily think that perhaps - this is what my existence is all about. Sometimes when we are caught in the busyness of our daily routine, we easily settle for what is convenient. We love to do the ordinary. We stop growing. And because our mind become weary, we tell ourselves, this is how to live life. I have a life! I can eat more than 3 times a day. I can travel. I can shop every weekend. I can drink Starbucks coffee. I can eat in restaurants. Wow! I am living a good life! But until when?<br /><br />And this is perhaps, what most of the twenty-something experienced. Of course, myself included. We are so eager to make a name. We jumpstart a career we have envisioned ourselves to be. We are so energetic. We love finding ourselves so caught up in the busyness of life. Perhaps, because we equate busyness with productivity. Or busyness with self-worth and value. We say yes to all activities. We join and lead in civic organizations. We travel. We make new friends. We speak to an audience. We are everywhere. Yet, at the end of it all, we end up still trying to figure out our life. And we ask ourselves whether we truly are successful or not. What are the barometers of success after all?<br /><br />Our solitude moments are the times to make sense of our day-to-day activities. It is in silence that we can truly find meaning with what we have. It is when we are alone when we see the person that we are and not the person that people around you want you to be. <br /><br />Life is full of distractions. People. Things. Fame. Prestige. Wealth. Power. Now that I am in my late twenty-something, I have learned that these things matter but they dont matter the most. They are only trappings of life. But not life in itself. What still matters, are the things that are invisible in the eye - inner peace, loving family, good relationships. The trappings of life will give happiness, yes, but not the lasting kind. They will, more often than not, only create distractions. We should keep our sight above these distractions so that we will truly see the essential things.<br /><br />I am a work-in-progress. Nothing is certain yet. I am not yet a finished product - in fact very far from it. I am not yet full. I wake up each day trying to find meaning in all of the things that I do. I am still trying to figure out if this is what I wanted. I am still on the look-out of signs and symbols as I walk through life in the hope that I am treading the right path. I am still in search of the pieces of myself that my Creator wants me to be. <br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="clear: both;">
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</body></html>Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6379727780502404121.post-73562447766735597072013-12-30T23:16:00.001-08:002013-12-30T23:16:16.207-08:00Year-end Thoughts<html><body>Today, the last day of 2013, will usher a new start. Another beginning.<br /><br />It is, with a happy feeling, that we can start anew - change what needs to be changed and start doing the things that are in your bucket list. Or perhaps, this year is the time to make your own bucket list. <br /><br />2013 is a hard year, well i guess, for all of humanity, Filipinos most especially. We have been shaken literally and metaphorically.<br /><br />Convincingly, 'twas a hard year but it made me, well, a better or wiser person. <br /><br />First of all, i have learned to be more grateful. After all the destructive calamities that hit the country, I am spared. I am alive. Thank you God. And my thank you note to Him comes heeding the opportunity to help. We were spared because we are called to help. I have learned that gratitude is an action word. It means being emphatic. It means going out of your room and help. It means giving up, temporarily, your comfort zone. To me, it even means, not listening to critics and just continue to do it. In the arena or life, the critics should not matter. What will matter is you and your intentions. When we organized the dinner for a cause for the victims of typhoon Yolanda, we gained supporters and critics. I was deeply disturbed. I saw apathy. I saw indifference. But that only fueled our wanting to help. That only gave us the formidable strength to just do it. And we made it. I then realized that critics are there because of two things - first, to give you more focus and second, to make you stronger - thus you end up victorious. That's it. Thank you to all our critics.<br /><br />I have also learned that we live in an interdependent world - one that is fragile. I have started advocating for Climate Change this year. And I regret to realize it quite late. My facebook profile pic depicts the Earth on Fire. It really is. Climate change is so real. We dont need to look for evidence because the evidence is already in front of you - before your own eyes. We should realize that our Earth is a fragile ecosystem. The fast rising of the temperature on Earth, if not stopped, will make this world, unlivable. And the rate is fast moving. And it will take you and me to do it. We should stop thinking that China activities will only affect China and US activities will only affect the US. We live in a world without walls. We all live in one world. We affect one another.<br /><br />I have learned that I am growing older. (Smiling) I used to think that youth is forever. Until later this year, I need to slow down a bit because my body feels the fatigue. I realized that things are not the way it used to be. When I arrive in the house and watch news, I only realized that I have not watched anything at all when I wake up in the night with uniform on, and TV showing already the late night news. Haha. I have confessed this to a friend within my age group and we said "Cheers to Old Age". Growing old is fun.<br /><br />Lastly, I am convinced, that Life is only temporary. No one lives forever. For another passing year, we should be comforted by the fact that we are all passers by. No one holds the distinction of being the richest, most famous, most beautiful, most successful, best actress when we die. What people remember are usually that good things that you have done. How you have affected them. How you have inspired them. How you have loved them. <br /><br />Cheers to a happier 2014!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="clear: both;"></div></body></html>Jay Crishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17601005552279506039noreply@blogger.com0