Don’t Swim on Good Fridays

Julie! Julie! Help! I screamed like crazy.  I waved my hand up in the air as she didn’t seem to notice.

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.

Feeling helpless, I took in enough air, and shouted, “I am drowning!” I need help.

Julie is a fairly good swimmer.  She moved, really fast. Or perhaps she saw I was moving away faster.

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.

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.

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.

So I looked around and saw Julie. JR maintained a closer distance to the shoreline. I shouted at Julie.

Julie! Julie! Help! I screamed like crazy.  I waved my hand up in the air as she didn’t seem to notice.

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.

Feeling helpless, I took in enough air, and shouted, “I am drowning!” I need help.

Julie is a fairly good swimmer.  She moved, really fast. Or perhaps she saw I was moving away faster.

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.

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.

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.

Don’t swim on Good Fridays!

Room 440

Room 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

It All Started in Cauayan

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The Singing Runner

"You again!"

"Yes, it's me!"

"Will you ever stop, Jay?"

"Yes! Yes of course! I will stop when there will be no contests!"

That has been the yearly script of fellow toastmasters when they see me as a fellow contestant. Not until this year, the script changed!

"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.

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!

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."

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.

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 fare.

Life is one big, crazy adventure. We need to be crazy to live life.

The crazier you are, the happier you will be.

The louder you laugh, the more that we will be friends!

If Tomorrow Never Comes

Statistics and I have some unresolved issues. It rooted from the time when my Statistics teacher would just barge inside the classroom and tell us let to draw a Probablity curve. No, it's not the drawing activity that started the trouble. I love drawing. Well, not really drawing. I mean, doodling, or aimless drawing to be more honest. The trouble was, finding x in the curve. And most of the time I can't find my X. 

I may have hated finding my X under the curve but I have learned some statistics lesson. One, the probability of you being struck by lightning is higher than winning a 6-digit combination in the lottery. No wonder, ever since in grade school, i have not won in any game of chance such the very common, raffle draw. I just ended up waiting eagerly, hands clasped, and then walked away with bare hands. Statistics must be correct!

Probability as a branch of Mathematics, teaches us that some events in our life can be quantified in its likelihood to occur. If you toss a coin, the Probability of getting a head is 50%. Your chances of getting a natural tan in the beach can now be predicted in percentage.
Probability as a tool makes us confident. It makes us calculate the risk in the table. It gives us a more informed decision.

But what about our life? What about the number of years in our lifetime? Can we find that under the Probability Curve?

When I was around 10 years old, I thought I kissed death already. It was a cold month of December when my family crossed the sea going to the scenic island of Siquijor. The sky was overcast. The wind was blowing hard. We were on board a small pump boat made of wood and bamboo. As we sailed, the creaking sound of the wooden parts grew louder as the big waves slapped mercilessly our boat. The smell of the sea crept in as it entered through the small, circular holes just above the floor. The loud banging of the wooden windows interrupted our silent yet intense prayers. The deep exhaling as the pump boat dived down, very abruptly, that sometimes, I felt it cannot make its way up, was terrifying. And how I wish at that moment I can float in the air so that I can help the boat go up. That lasted for an hour. And for that one hour of fear and paranoia my life just hanged by a thread. 

We have heard two news of an untimely death just recently. One involving a Glee star, Cory Montieth, who died very young because of drug and alcohol overdose. And second, we mourn over the death of District 75 Trainer, TM Pat Pascua. She died from a high blood pressure. We saw, how alive she was when she conducted the training last July 20. Only four weeks had passed, and we lost TM Pat. Who would think it will happen?

And then we think of our own lives. How long can we live? How many days? How many months? How many years?

No one knows. Only Him. How I wish my statistics teacher can. How I wish I can plot my number of years under the Probability curve. How I wish I can just say, " I have 80% chance to survive today. It's a great day! Or "Oh no, I only have 10 % of surviving today. I should be extremely cautious." Unfortunately, Probability will not. Science will not. Our life, unlike X ,cannot be found under the probability curve.

Tomorrow is, but a promise. Today is what we have. Today is the best time of our life. Today is the best time to be kind to everyone. Today is the best day to help. Today is the best day to be happy.

There is no other day, but today. Live today like it's your last. Make it count. Life is not about taking chances. Life is about making things happen.

I Got Myself a Gift for Christmas!

Today, 21 December 2012, according to the Mayan Calendar is the end of the world. I don't subscribe to that prophecy. I still believe that no one on Earth knows when is the end. If I remember correctly, according to my Religion teacher, not even the Son, knows when. However, I also do not dismiss the idea of its possibility.

As I look around and observe, Life runs on a regular basis today. As I write this, I just finished my Longanisa breakfast with egg plus hot chocolate at Jollibee east. As a matter of fact, nothing has significantly changed. PUJ's, taxi cabs, private cars are passing by with loads of passengers. The sky is dominantly blue with traces of cotton-like clouds. The sun is up. I carefully look at people's faces, I see no fear or anxiety at all. Oh, today is a good day just like yesterday.

Last night, I got myself a gift for Christmas! It is very beautiful. I acted like a kid when the barista handed it to me. Oh, not really. I was able to contain my joy and excitement. How I would have wanted to jump for joy, but that would mean public scandal, so I just carefully placed it inside my bag. Then I transferred to a more private place at Cafe Olio inside Westown Hotel in San Juan. So there, I did all things that I cannot do in Starbucks. I took a photo before I tore the the plastic. I smiled. Then I carefully flip the first page, read the print, flip some pages more, take pictures, and smile a lot. My newest toy. My happiness.

Talking About Simple Joys

CAfe Specials. A Comedy in 3 Acts: Appetizer, Main Course, and Dessert. The play was light in theme. Very relatable. And yes it was funny. I had the chance to talk to the writer before the play started, so I asked him what force gave way to the staging of Cafe Specials. So he explained that he pitched in the idea to the owner of Museum Cafe which is just nearby the headquarter of Performance Laboratory. I appreciate the fact that a play such as this one, not staged in school, turned very successful. The venue was fully packed. And the audience roared in laughter. Because the actors can really act and the story is beautifully mundane.

Toastmasters.

Then,

Hardwork pays off, you win. Of course, I must say that there is still no substitute for oozing self-confidence. Trust me.

Cigarettes! Anyone?

While waiting, for sometime now, for my spaghetti in tomato sauce take out, my eyes catch this view. This is actually in front of me. Out of nothing to do my sense of details opened in full and wow these are a bunch of Cigarettes. And the store owner, appropriately named it, Lighters Galore. Suddenly I remember the phrase, "chika galore", from a friend now based in Canada. That is a little digression, pardon me. And then I remember the Sin Tax hotly discussed and debated in the Senate. And if you were to ask me my thoughts on it? Huh! Even my father would probably be upset.

The Mistress

Ah. I know you are now thinking of Sari and JD. But wait, I am not a movie critic. I mean, not as of the moment. I don't think I have enough bullets to fire a really persuasive review. I also don't think I watch movies that often. Yes, I watch Tagalog movies a lot. Tons of them. The romantic type, filled with cheap, cheesy lines which become an instant talk-of-the-city where people try to muster and give it their own version (ala jd or sari). As if they are auditioning for the role? Uhm...dont get me wrong. Let me clarify that I also watch Hollywood movies. The hunger games? Yes I did. But the Tagalog films are dearer. I don't really know. It must be that when it rained patriotism, I was fully drenched of it and many get into my blood! Even with songs. And singers. And...okay. I know you are convinced. So i stop here.

My family's story has some element of "The Mistress". The notable difference though is that my mom befriended my father's other woman. And that they bore a child, Pipoy, who is of the same age with me. I can vividly recall that during birthdays, they came and gave us gifts. We played balloons. We were friends.

As far as my recollection, my childhood memory did not include confrontation that we seen in movies. The kind that Hilda Koronel delivered in The Mistress, "Layuan mo ang asawa ko. Tagalog yan para maintindihan mo." None at all. According to my mother, it was my Lola, Papa's mother, who went ballistic and acted like Hilda Koronel. My mother kept it. She remained strong. She did not make a hell out of it.

I was in dumaguete over the weekend and Pipoy and I met. We had coffee and we talked about my work in Bacolod and his work in Saudi. He just arrived from the Middle East after a two-year contract. By the way, he is a Mechanical Engineer. And I think he looks very similar to Papa. We don't see each other frequently so when that opportunity happened our storytelling will be in chapters.

We are a family. Growing up, Papa's other woman is my Auntie. And that's how I call her. No awkwardness. No aloofness. No insecurities.

And we are happy about it.

I waited 28 Years to finally wear a Sash in Silver Glitters!

I was not just surprised! I was astonished and to some extent bewildered. Why me?

The night became mine. Yes it was in my favor. I was walking up in the clouds with a smile thinking, oh yeah people thought I am Cool! So I must be cool!

Thank you so much!

Is it the smile I wear every single moment everyday?

Is it my boundless friendliness?

It is my way of striking a conversation everywhere?

Is it my saying hi and hello to everyone?

Is it my scandalous laughter?

Whatever it is, Oh yeah, I am COOl!

Mr. Green

Snyder, Mr. Green’s new secretary, was always impressed by how his boss conducted things.

“You know, Mr. Green,” the secretary told his boss, “you’re such a cheerful man. I notice that even when things go wrong, you’re always smiling.”

“Well, the boss grinned, “that’s because, when things go wrong, I always have other people to blame.”

I joined San Miguel in May 2006, 5 days after my birthday. That was the time when three QA staff, Mr Dax, Bell, and Cathy availed of the early retirement program. Ms Adee, Mr Mike, and I filled in the vacated positions. Eventually the two is now Mr and Mrs Loquellano.

As I recall 5 years ago, Bell is the person with a contagious, child-like smile, who treated us pizza even if it’s not his birthday. He would sing warrior is a child while degassing fermenter samples. Cathy on the other hand gave me her sharp cd player. She was a good listener and a profound conversationalist. Moreover, Dax, became close to me because he talked a lot and I do listened a lot. And vice versa! He was the one who patiently trained me in the process section. He also brought me to a lot of KTV and there we practice our unexplored singing careers.

When Mr. Noy left us, it felt a little pain in our hearts because we all miss his antics and humor. He always has a way of lifting our spirit when things go wrong. He was also our adviser/consultant in many QA activities. There was a little emptiness when we grouped together and LCR was not around.

When Julienne said goodbye to us, I missed her outgoing nature. Her outspokenness and candor. Her loud voice. And her struggling diva moments in the lab.

This year, a very good friend, LRB, moved out to Manila. And she brought along a little piece of myself in her new destination. I had to keep still and gather the pieces again and get used to have one less of my close friends in Bacolod.

I am taking about people and goodbyes. I am reminiscing down memory lane. I am talking about human relationships.

John C. Maxwell defines leadership as influence. The object of that influence is people. People-oriented leaders are more interested in the interpersonal relationships in the team. They asked the following questions: 1. Do your employees consider you a great manager? 2. Do you refer to yourself as a people person? 3. Do you ask yourself, if I were them, will I be happy about my decision? Simply put, 4. Do you care about your people?

The richest people in the world; even the most successful in their career; even the most popular, amidst their greatest accomplishment in life, when they are old and grey, the thing that matters most is not what they have become but how they have made relationships with other people.

When I recalled the memories I shared with Mr Dax, Bell, Cathy, Mr Noy, and LRB, I did not really mind that Dax and Bell were topnothers in the Chemistry Board Exam and that Cathy and LRB studied in UP Diliman. The things that I remembered were the good and happy moments we spent together and their random acts of kindness. Because what matters most is how we have built relationships with people around us. It’s either you are good at heart or the other way around. Not the millions you have. Not the trophies in your cabinets. Not the titles attached to your name. Not the positions you have held. People will remember you with the following remarks, "Ay huo, ka.maayo na sya nga tawo!" He is generous. He is caring. He has a good heart.

When the day ends, the ultimate question to ponder is, “How would you like to be remembered as a boss? That when you are old and retiring, can you still manage to smile looking back on the years past?

Flash Drive and the Love Story

Warning. This is a love story. If you are doing something while reading this, I strongly advised that you do one thing at a time. This needs your undivided attention. Focus is of paramount importance.

Yesterday, I bought a new flash drive. Where’s the love story? Wait. Don't be too excited. The reason is, I need a new one to replace what has been lost or what has been stolen. I cannot really tell which is which. I just knew one day, I don’t have it during my search and rescue inside my bag. Truth is, I need a storage for an information I need to transfer to the web. Remember the love story? Yes, this is it.

My former student just broke up with his girlfriend. How did I know? Through his FB wall. Today, FB does not only connect friends, it has become our expression wall. This is where a few cry out in utter desperation, lambaste a person he despises so much, ask forgiveness, and court his or her significant other.

He posted, “Please give me one more chance.” Well, this is not about Popoy and Basya but like that movie, this is all about surviving the loss of a love. He pleaded. He wanted to be felt. He wanted a love back. I attempted to make his emotional burden a little lighter by offering Red horse but he said no. Few days after he took a break from FB.

I am no-love expert…yet. (Although I admit, I am a sucker of romantic comedy movies.) So I need the help of an authority. Jet, a fellow blogger, lent a book, How to Survive the Loss of a Love, to Emmylou (also a blogger) for that same purpose. Intrigued about how the authors could make you really survive the loss of a love, I borrowed it. Now I wonder, will it make a difference, reading when you suffer loss at the moment and when you’re not? I remember vividly that as Jet handed the book, she excitedly mentioned of the emergency hotline mentioned in Page 2. It said, “If you are experiencing a loss and are in need of emotional first-aid, please turn directly to page 20”. And in page 20 wrote:

“You will survive

You will get better.

No doubt about it.

The healing process has a beginning, a middle, and an end.

Keep in mind, at the beginning, that there is an end. It’s not that far-off.

You will heal.

Nature is on your side, and nature is a powerful ally.

Tell yourself, often, “I am alive. I will survive.”

You are alive.

You will survive.”

I remember in grade school when few of my classmates would let me write in their flashy scrapbook. Most often I took them home so that I will the liberty to 1) think hard of giving the most serious answers, and 2) read what has been written by my other classmates (lol…). Question number 1: what is love? Imagine a 4th grader defining what love is. And I think, most of my classmates, have a common definition which I suspected to have come from past generations. It said, “Love is a like a bubble gum, kung mupilit makabuang”. Whoever originated that definition already left a legacy on love. Even I, have memorized it. Does he know that his definition is more popular than him? Is he still alive?

One day I was wandering around a small shopping center in Dumaguete. The time when, out of nothing to do, you read everything your eyes meet. I was walking downstairs when my gaze was riveted to a medium-sized poster, considerably attention-grabbing because of its artistry. And in the poster are the words:

“Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous;

Love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly;

it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth;

bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails…But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:4-7, 13

This is the unarguably the most beautiful definition of love. This is what love should be. This is what love can do. This is love in its truest and purest state.

I have heard many love stories told in the ‘first person’. Some are coupled with romance, suspense, comedy, action; some even goes with horror.

I have seen love stories at the onset 'til it blossomed. Some withered and died. Few have recuperated. Few eventually died.

Maybe I am what J.D. Salinger mentioned in his book. I wanted to be, not “a catcher in the rye”, but a catcher of love stories. And I will be writing beautiful love stories that will make people skip a meal, skip work, skip a fart, and their hearts skip a bit.

I jogged today; It's a Good Friday

I thank God today, Good Friday, and I think the whole of humanity should. Today the world literally stops from splurging in the sea of utter banality. I was able to jog early in the morning. And that is so rare. The last time I jog around the new government center in the morning? I couldn’t remember. It must be long ago. And I like it. I think that sometimes we have to break the monotony of living each day just repeating things over and over to remind us of so many things. Thus this is the time to recollect and reflect.

Very appropriately, I watched yesterday the film 3 idiots, as recommended by an officemate. It became instantly famous in the office that everyone shared profound thoughts about it. One day, without really wanting to buy a copy of it, my eyes was directed to see it. It must be fate so I had it in my bag. Of course I paid.

I felt the urgency of the message of the film that I immediately thought of blogging about it. And hopefully it will reach places and far destinations. I even thought that the government should have film showing in schools most especially, high schools, and if possible, with their parents and teachers. Is this asking too much? No. Believe me. If you’ve watched it, congratulations! Share the message of the film.

Don’t worry, I am not a film spoiler. I will not exert effort to narrate the events in the film. What I will do is to ask questions, well I consider them thought-provoking, so that you will already identify which character are you in the film.

Students should watch it. It will make them have a special connection with the three idiots or see themselves as one of them. That is even better. To be bookish or street-smart? To follow what makes us happy or follow what makes our parents happy? To choose a course mainly because society will put you in the pedestal of fame and power or because that what makes you happy? To always yield to tradition or stand for what is right? To say yes because it is the right answer or yes because it is what is expected of me? To memorize theories or to understand them? To make a life or make a living? To make our parents happy and live life that they wanted for you or make them happy by honestly telling them what you want and what makes you happy?

Parents should watch it. Do you ask your children what they want when they grow up or you immediately tell them you will be a doctor like me. Or you will soon manage our own business? Or you will defend my clients when you will be in the list of lawyers? That you will be a nurse because they make considerable fortune in the US and elsewhere in the world. That you will be a doctor because society will regard you with awe and admiration.

Teachers should watch it. Do you encourage your students to memorize theories and definitions in toto and when a word or phrase is missing, a deduction will be imposed? Do you not even ask if they understood? Do you tell your students that life is a race and that to be called successful you will outdo your competitors? And topple them if necessary? Have you failed a student because you think his idea will never work though he insists to make it work but you chose to close the opportunity?  Do you regard your students as someone below you? Did you choose to impose rules because you think it is disrespect to your-being-in-control when in fact they deserve certain considerations? Did you make them see that the Diploma is the end-all-and-be-all of studying? 

Students, teachers, and parents, make your choice.

NEVER GIVE UP YOUR DREAM

The winning of Angeline Quinto in the talent search, Star Power, sends one message: Never give up your dream!

I admit I am a fan of singing contests. And I think you will not wonder. If it does, you don’t know me yet. For those who know me, if I explain it, it will just be sheer redundancy. So I will leave it that way.

Watching television when I was in school was never an issue. I have the freedom to switch on our TV set, any time of the day and any time of the year. I could not remember any house rule that said, No TV when its 7pm or No TV when its exam days. And I was very happy about that including my sister.

Having confessed that, I have religiously followed a lot of singing contests on national television. And I know a lot of singers, now popular, coming from these talent searches.

Ethel Booba whose name before was Ethel Gabison is a product of Sing Galing, a videoki contest hosted by an Ilonggo Allan K and Ai-ai delas Alas at ABC 5. People may not know about it but she is a certified belter. She can nail effortlessly Barbra Streisand’s “People and leave you with your jaw dropped.

Sarah Geronimo is a grand winner of the talent search, Star for a Night, hosted by Regine Velasquez. She won over Angeline Quinto in that contest. I will not dwell much on Sarah G. because you might know more things about her than I do. After all she is tagged as the next big thing.

When Star Power presented their big catch of hopeful singers after a nationwide series of eliminations, one face seemed very familiar. I am talking about the reticent lady who prefers to be just on the side, Angeline.

When she was little, I already watched her in the Singing contest, tagged “Sing Ala Regine” at MTB, ABS-CBN. I must say, she really sounded like Regine minus of course the emotional maturity when Regine sings. But the tonal quality, belting technique, phrasing, emphasis of the e and i, climaxing, were totally that of Regine.

She also joined, “This is it kantahan” hosted by Bayani Agbayani at GMA 7 but she lost.

Until Star Power was created hosted by Sharon Cuneta that she proved to be the voice to reckon with. Among the songs that she hammered very well were Habang May Buhay (her song in the finals of Star for a Night), Through the Fire, I don’t Wanna Miss a thing, and Ikaw.

It was during the grand finals that she really spewed fire. It appeared to me that she wants to tell her audience, this is my stage! The songs are mine! Belting is just a walk in the park. Her vocal calisthenics was showcased in her rendition of, “What Kind of Fool Am I”, a foreign song arranged by a Louie Ocampo for Regine Velasquez. Her singing of “I don’t Wanna Miss a Thing” revealed that she does not fear any note in a musical piece! And those attributes gave her the wings to fly inside Ynares Center that made her deserve the title, Pinoy Pop Superstar!

Angeline’s success is a long ride. But she persisted. And now she tells the story of a young lady with a lesson in life that giving up your dream is like giving up your life!

Stories and More!

I am back! When the coffee reaches the brim, it overflows. Exactly how I felt right now. I am quite excited writing again. I have so much in mind that it speaks more than my fingers could transcribe.

Writing relaxes me. It’s rejuvenating. It’s my idea of relaxing a quite busy life for me these days.

As I write this, its 11:00 late night. I just finished attending our 4th Regular Meeting. Earlier, around 7:00 am, I took the hardest step to begin a day. That’s getting up from my bed and remove myself from the blanket of coldness in my room. I am scheduled that day to take my Midterm exam in Iloilo for my Masters which I am already in my second year. Although at times, I felt I am overloaded, I just close my eyes and sleep. That means I need to disconnect from the world. When I wake up, life is a promise again.

Second. I am now the President of Riverside Toastmasters Club. Clap! Haha! Toastmasters has always been a gift to me. In 2007, when I decided to become part of the organization, I felt that it was one of the most important decisions I have made. Not only that fellow Riverside Toastmasters became my second family in Bacolod, they made my Saturdays more fun, more exciting, and more fulfilling. Plus of course the fact that I enjoyed what we do as toastmasters.

Third. I am now exercising. Finally! It took me a while to decide on this. Until one day I just saw myself in front of the mirror. I didn’t like it. Although the result is not quite evident yet, wait. Patience is a virtue, isn’t it! When I attended a one-day seminar on dynamics of personal effectiveness, I learned that one of the seven characteristics of a good leader is they exercise for self-renewal. I said, never mind the six others! Haha!

Oh before I forget, I need your yells and shouts of congratulations! The reason? Just text me.

At the end of the day, life is not purely all about achieving all our goals. The recipe should include enjoying every bit and every minute in the process. That is why when I laugh; it’s as if, it’s going to be my last. Although someone threatened me to count my teeth when I open my mouth in laughter, I am not giving up. I have my two hands anyway. Good night folks!

DARE TO DREAM

(This is the speech that I delivered in a Recognition Ceremony at Dumaguete City last March 29, 2010)

Never underestimate the power of a dream!

When I graduated in 2001, I can still recall our graduation song. In fact, I will volunteer myself to sing a few lines of it. Bear with me, I am a member of MBSS! “Masyadong Bilib sa Sarili. And here it goes, “Yes, it all begins with a dream. Something inside that we really believe. There’s so much we can do. We can make it come true. Yes it all begins with a dream”.

As early as now, think of what you would love to do. What is your passion? What do you enjoy doing? If you can answer these questions, then that is your dream. That will be you 4-8 years from now. That will serve as your compass to guide you. So never lose your dream. Never lose sight and most of all never give up your dream! It’s very hard to get lost especially when you are already advanced in age.

In 2007, I ran my first marathon here in Dumaguete. Remember the 34th milo marathon? Yes, I was one of the runners in…, guess what category? Well for someone like me who is a member of MBSS, I enlisted in the 21-kilometers category. You know what happened? Well, I was able to run halfway, and then I hitched to the traffic enforcer whom is following me because I was the last runner of the race. But wait, I gave up not because I am ashamed of being the last runner, but because I have realized I have chosen the wrong category. Sometimes, it’s negative to be a in the elite circle of MBSS! Kidding aside! It happens! We have to carefully choose our own battle. We have to know when to stop and try again. I may have failed in 2007, but I did not allow myself to get stuck and wallow in self-pity, that I can never make it. Last year, 2009, I ran again, and this time in the 10-kilometers category and I am proud that I finished on time and got for myself a finisher certificate.

Failure is simply defined as the state or condition of not meeting a desirable or intended objective. According to Dr. Robert Schuller, “Failure doesn’t mean you are a failure. It just means you haven’t succeeded yet. Failure does not mean you have accomplished nothing. It does mean you have learned something. Failure doesn’t mean you’ve been a fool to try. It means you were brave, you had nerve, you had courage; be proud of your self. Failure does not mean you’ll never make it. It does mean it will take longer. Failure does not mean you’re finished. It does mean you have a chance to start all over again, try something new. Failure doesn’t mean God has abandoned you. It does mean He has a better idea. So it is true, failure is never final.

Consider the following real stories. Woody Allen – Academy Award-winning writer, producer and director flunked motion picture production at New York University and the City College of New York. He also failed English at New York University. When Thomas Edison invented the light bulb, he tried over 2,000 experiments before he got it to work. A young reporter asked him how it felt to fail so many times. He said, “I never failed once. I invented the light bulb. It just happened to be a 2,000-step process. General Douglas MacArthur might never have gained power and fame without persistence. When he applied for admission to West Point, he was turned down, not once but twice. But he tried a third time, was accepted and marched into the history books.

Now, I have a warning to make. Be careful of dream stealers! Who are they? They are people who will discourage you to pursue your dream. They are people who will tell you straight in your face, you can never make it. They are people who will tell you, Oh my God, look at you, “Is that even possible?

A teacher asked her students to draw their dream. After an hour, Jimmy went to the teacher’s table and proudly presented his drawing of a big ranch with all kind of animals he could possibly imagine. The teacher praised Jimmy for a beautiful drawing but continued saying, your grandfather is poor, your father is poor, you cannot have that ranch. Jimmy, draw something achievable or else I will give you an F. So Jimmy went home very sad and told his dad about it. His father told him, It is up to you son, you can either keep your dreams or allow people to steal it away from you. The next day, Jimmy valiantly went to his teacher and presented his same drawing. The teacher angrily told him, “Jimmy, are you testing my patience? But Jimmy just smiled and replied, “It’s okay ma’am, you can give me an F but I choose to keep my dreams.”

This time, I’d like to address the parents and relatives of our outstanding students, “Congratulations for the achievements of your son or daughter, but please, don’t steal their dreams. Your role is just to support and guide them.

To you outstanding students, you who have chosen that excellence matters, you don’t have to know how your dream will come true. Just dream it. The path will reveal itself, little by little, in due time. Your role is simply to follow your dream.

Once again, Congratuations!

CHRISTMAS at the SEA

The digital clock of my phone ticked 11:59. One minute away from Christmas. I woke up feeling dizzy. I looked around and saw a scene like the portrait of the mother and child deeply asleep in their double-deck bed. I felt the biting cold so I wore my red and black coat, went outside, and looked far at the placid blue sea. It’s Christmas!

A day before, I woke up at 4:30am, to catch up the 5:15am air con bus going to Dumaguete. I wasn’t lucky enough though. When I arrived, all seats were taken. Some were already on their feet with their one hand on the railings. The trip will take around 6 hours granting no delay so I opted to take the next bus. I arrived at the port of Dumaguete around 12 noon.

The uncovered path walk going to the ticket booth of the fast craft is some distance away. I treaded the grueling, hot, cemented walk way sweating profusely that I felt its cascade. As I stood near the area, I had a glimpse of a clique of Koreans talking. From the tone and pace of their speaking, somehow, I knew something is not right. Then I saw the notice printed in short bond paper, “All trips are cancelled”. What a day I said! I waited. I wanted to know why. I took a seat nearby when a staff went out. From my distance I overheard him saying, “The waves are too unruly to sail safely”.

I would have resolved to stay until 11pm and take the boat going to Cebu when my Chemistry professor called my name. I knew she’s going to my destination too so I immediately broke the news to her. She was furious! When I saw the porter behind her carrying 2 squarely huge bags, I nodded to her emotion. Then we discussed how to go about the unfortunate events that happened.

We decided to travel by bus, take the roll on-roll off barge, to be able to cross the next island, Cebu. As we sail, the waves became fierce. The further we sail, the stronger they became. I lost my equilibrium. My professor who’s beside me became my stress ball. Thanks to her. She didn’t complain. My two hands were already robustly clasped to my seat with my butt almost hanging in an effort to balance the barge when it tilted to some angle. I admit, I am paranoid in life-threatening situations. I don’t think I am ready. But we made it. Thank God!

We went inside the bus again and started again my long journey to my destination. Along the way I could feel the warmth of the occasion. I could see busy people preoccupied in their preparation. There were already disco lights and sounds stationed outside people’s houses. There were explosions of firecrackers near and far. I saw people in long queue to order “lechon manok”. I heard beautiful Christmas Songs sang by the choir in churches which made me sing along until their voices fade in the air. It was quite a long trip, four hours to be more exact.

We arrived at the Cebu South Bus terminal, and immediately rode a cab to take us to Pier 3. Then the string of unfortunate events still hanged on us. There was no boat available. We tried our luck once more and proceeded to Pier 1. There I found some consolation. There was a trip going to my place of destination. It was my teacher who’s got the dilemma. Her boat was in Pier 7. She said she can manage so I just called another cab to take her to the boat. I kissed her goodbye and greeted her Merry Christmas.

With my three bags, I was alone, as I went inside the boat at 10:00 in the evening. I looked around trying to find a soul whom I know. There was none. I proceeded to my bed, laid down my bags. Then I closed my eyes and slept. At 25, ‘twas Christmas at the Sea.

I Wish I Were...

When life becomes too deplorable…When I cannot cope with the busyness of it…When I cannot comprehend its web-like complexity…When I cannot fathom the depth of the human psyche…When I loose the understanding between commitment and time-table…When I can’t seem to find myself…When I felt restless in the silence of the night...When life is like traveling in a sea of banality…When life’s a bitch and crap…

I wish I were a fisher folk and only think of making a catch. City dwellers will envy the freshness of the air…the greenery surroundings…the white-sand beach…the playful waves…the simple life.

I wish I were a farmer. When I am thirsty, I can have coconut water. When I’m hungry I can pick bananas from the trunk. When I’m tired, I can sleep under the shade of the tall tress. Life is simpler.

I wish I have the power to simplify. Anyone?

No Copying Please!

The big round eyes of my Grade 4 teacher have the resolute power to make us focus on our own paper during daily quizzes and long exams. She would roam around the four walls of the classroom with her elongated brown stick as she executes careful, calculated steps following a certain rhythm. Not one of my classmates would dare to move his head sideward as that is tantamount to peeking someone else’s answer. The only allowed movement of the head is moving it up and down. When she feels suspicious, she would blurt out in a firm deafening voice, “No copying please”. With that, even moving the head up and down, is a mortal sin.

Yes, copying is taboo when we are inside the portals of the academe. And after being away from that institution, I realized that copying is not that atrocious after all.

I watched ASAP yesterday and saw Nina in tears after she was conferred the Diamond Platinum award or ten time Platinum reaching a total sales of 200,000 copies of her album Nina Live. I can’t blame her for being melodramatic. Her tears are not part of a script. Indeed, it was very monumental as she is the first Filipina to receive the feat after Jose Marie Chan. But its is public knowledge that Nina Live contains all revival tracks including popular hits like, Love moves in mysterious ways, Through the Fire, Burn, among others. You see, copying can give you a Diamond Record Award. Not bad after all.

When you plan to open your own business, franchising is the “in” thing. A colleague at work bought a Smokey’s franchise which makes business for him a lot easier. The brand name is already established so business is just a breeze. One will just buy the brand or to put simply, one will just copy the brand, and he will make money out of it. Copying is not bad after all.

Soap opera in television is not spared from copying too. Lovers in Paris, Pinoy Big Brother, Survivor, Stairway to Heaven, and many others are not created by Filipinos. And yet, Pinoys patronize them. To some extent, adaptations even rate higher than the original stories. Copying is not bad after all.

To copy is to make work easier. Does this mean, the modern human psyche is degenerating? Does this mean that creativity is passé. Does this mean that society does not anymore put premium on hard work, industry, and ingenuity?

No copying please!

OUTPOUR of the Heart

I felt restless because of the words that i said. But deep inside me are words telling me that it was just an outpouring of my heart. I felt it was already too heavy to carry and it reached the brim of my emotional reservoir.

I had a serious talk with Sheila two weeks ago. Her words lingered until now, Jay you cannot do it alone. You are not the club. She was right. Sometimes, the best option is to say no, even if it means not following the dictates of your passion. Sometimes i thought of quitting. But no. It's against my will. I know the feeling is just fleeting. I will be back. I may detest it at the moment but I will find my way to it the soonest time. As I have said, I developed an addiction to it. So I had to cling to my passion! That's how i love toastmasters! It shed some light to me the dictum that says "we are happy when we are most miserable".

After one of our meetings, i had the luxury of a comfy ride with Jaclyn. She told me, time will come that its not fun anymore. Instead of being "destressed", its adds up to your daily stress. Am I near to it? I hope not.

Sometimes, i am grateful. Why? Because it moves me to write. Writing becomes my scheme for unloading the toxic contents of my heart. It is in the restlessness of my heart that i get to let it out and be renewed.

When will this last?