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Sunday, June 27, 2010

Milo's Run


I think imma be joining this run... :P








Since its first run in 1974, the National MILO® Marathon has now become the biggest running event in the country. Its immense popularity has attracted runners from all age groups to participate, including children. However, a lot of these driven young runners don’t have shoes. Imagine seeing a little boy run kilometer after kilometer of rough cement barefooted. This moving scene inspired us to make this year’s run more meaningful, by giving out running shoes to thousands of underprivileged school children.


This year, in line with its commitment to build champions, the National MILO® Marathon will provide underprivileged children with running shoes. Every time a runner joins, a portion of the registration fee will be allotted to the advocacy. The money collected from all the participants will be used to produce running shoes that will be donated to different public schools selected by the Department of Education in the areas where the 2010 MILO® Marathon will be heldThe root of this advocacy lies in our belief that we’re not just giving these children running shoes. We’re giving them something that they can wear to school, for sports and other activities. It’s definitely a step to help them reach their true potential and be the best that they can be.


[CLICK HERE TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE CAUSE]


MILO® Philippines

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Gabay (Callalily)

Andito lang ako
Gumagabay Sayo
Laging nakatitig
Kahit sa panaginip

Lumipas ang taon
Ako'y nawalay saiyo
Nilamon na ng oras
Ang ating samahan

Ngayon wala ka na
Saan pa pupunta
Doon ba o dito?
Gusto ko nang sumuko
Ngunit sinabi mo

Andito lang ako
Gumagabay sa'yo
Laging Nakatitig
Kahit sa panaginip
Hindi Pababayaan
Ikaw ay Iingatan
Asahan mong nandito lang ako

Ginawa na ang lahat
Upang ika'y mahanap
Suntok sa buwan ako
Umaasa

Ngayon wala ka na
Saan pa pupunta
Doon ba o dito?
Gusto ko nang sumuko
Ngunit sinabi mo

Andito lang ako
Gumagabay sa'yo
Laging Nakatitig
Kahit sa panaginip
Hindi Pababayaan
Ikaw ay Iingatan
Asahan mong nandito lang ako
Asahan mong Nandito lang ako

Ngunit Sinabi mo....
Ngunit Sinabi mo........

Andito lang ako
Gumagabay sa'yo
Laging Nakatitig
Kahit sa panaginip
Hindi Pababayaan
Ikaw ay Iingatan
Asahan mong nandito lang ako
Asahan mong nandito lang ako

Asahan mong andito lang ako...

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

daddy day care plans

Father's day na pala sa Saturday. At dahil toxic ako, wala akong maisip na gawin sa sabado for him. At kelangan ko din siguro ng ibang pagkakaabalahan na worth it naman maliban sa trabaho dahil natuturete nako. (naks, nagpapaka random post, haha).

Kaya this time, I really need your help in brainstorming. Should I buy a gift? Eh ano? Should I just bring them out for dinner? Eh saan?

Sabaw sabaw.


Any suggestion/s?

Friday, June 11, 2010

You think you cannot dance

Life is like a graceful dance
You glide, you jump, you twirl, you prance
to the beat of your choice
to a song of your own voice

You fall, you trip, once or twice
but on your own you shall rise
Your pride is yours, for you are still you
unbroken, and still quite new

But along the way you loose an arm,
along the way you loose your charm
Along the way you loose your foot
And the music starts to mute

But a voice tells you to rise
One foot He says shall suffice
For He will be there, dancing with you
lifting an arm, to makes yours two

For at the start, you were never truly alone
You had a dance partner, one you call your own.




*post dedicated to those who think they could not dance life away anymore. Life is good. God is good. He sends out little angels (you may call friends) to let you know that you are cared for. Who will dance life's dance with you. Hand in hand. Song per song. Beat per beat. Cheer up.

*please do watch the video as well.

P.S. I'm really in a bad need of a bad ass template. And a toilet banner. Imma make pilit my best bud to do a toy photoshoot for my toilet banner. hmmmm paging bset... pwease! or... any volunteer? hehe. I'm so not techie kasi. lol

Friday, June 4, 2010

Madrasta

There’s this one feisty woman making sure that our house is almost liveable. With four messy cavemen, this task is no walk in the park. She is currently THE woman of the house.

But she’s not my mom to call. I simply refer to her as “the mother of my brothers”, I call her “ate” (big sister), as that was how she was first introduced. She is, after all, just a few years older.

‘Twas just around five years ago, that I’ve somehow accepted the fact that she is indeed already part of the family. I was finally done with college, ready to become slave to the work force jungle, and most importantly, out of the roof that she claimed to be queen of.

But before those 5 years, we were simply arch enemies. She was that bitch who made my life a living hell. And I was the brat who made her wish my dad didn’t come with a spoiled brat in tow. I made it a point for her to realise that my dad and I were a package deal made in hell. And at one point my goal was to get rid of her.

She was just too different from all those women my dad dated. Aside from my dad being more than 20 years her senior, I just couldn’t help but compare her with the “others.” They were mostly as meek as Maria Clara, as sophisticated as Princes D. But she was simply Annabelle Rama and Nanay Dionisia on amplifiers. The first time I saw her I already smelled trouble.

All hell broke when she got pregnant and we started playing house. She could’ve been the evil step mother, but too bad for her I was no Cinderella. I was Denis the menace times ten.

Though we never really engaged on a verbal spat cum wrestle mania 3 (except for one time), the silent treatment was enough to make the house be filled with tension. If looks could kill, each of us would’ve been a dead corpse by now.

We were only able to “publicly” fight when I accidentally sent my rant-SMS to her instead of my dad. And she was the sole topic of the SMS. I was playing son-in-distress, and she, the villain. But as she was part Annabelle Rama, she just craved for a confrontation, and I, on the other hand, feared going back home. And heck, that was one confrontation I’d like to have forgotten. As I am the quiet type, I seemingly lost in the fight.

But should I really go through all those that happened in the past? The Maala-Ala Mo Kaya Moments, the telenovella life we led. How I was Rubi – ang bidang kontrabida, and she was Amor Powers (How jologs of me to have all these comparison, forgive my analogy). But I’d refuse to live in the bitter past and even tell the tale in full detail. This isn’t the point really of this post.

I realize that as we were giving each other a hard time, we were both hurting.
As we were competing for my dad’s attention, we were both crying.
As we were at each other’s throats, we wished for peace.
As we were ignoring each other, we were both craving for the tiniest of acknowledgements.
And as we were trying to fulfil our roles in the family, we were both but human.
Capable of getting hurt. Wanting to belong. Wanting to be loved.

And though she fell short of the standards my relatives had set for my dad (yes they were pretty much involved), she never fell short in loving him. Through the hardships and hurt, she remained. At least now I know that my dad will grow old with someone by his side. Not exactly the one I’ve envisioned, but at least someone who’d love him just because. Because surely, others may have had my dad at his best, she simply had him at his worst, but loved him, nonetheless.

And thus now, I struggle to give her my hug of approval. I’ve planned this long before, but have not had the chance to execute. And though we are now in smiling (partial speaking) terms, we have not really raised white flags and signed a treaty of peace, officially. This usually is sealed with a hug. A simple hug that I am actually scared of, but would need to do… someday.

Because somehow, I know that she deserves it.

Because she is, after all, my madrasta.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Just because


“Why do you love me?”

This question must’ve been asked to you by a lover once or twice during your relationship.

More often than not, you find yourself rummaging through your deep consciousness just to find the right words to say.

You’d probably go for, “I love you because you are kind,” or “I love you because we make good conversations, “ or “I love you because of your smile,” or “I love your Greek god like body.”

Tough question when caught off guard, ayt? You find out that no words are enough to describe all the reasons for loving.

We’d usually sum up with one sentence.

“I love you just because. “

For the reason for loving really is almost unfathomable, digging deeper than what our eyes can see. After all, they wouldn’t be able to describe love as “blind” for nothing.

That when we put definitive reasons, like a smile, a laugh, a talent, one’s beauty, we ask, what happens when all of these are gone?

If love rests with such reasons, then it must’ve been a superficial one. That when all these reason fade out, so shall our love.

But for those who cannot find the right reason, when reasons cannot fully quantify nor qualify, then consider yourself blessed amidst the roller coaster ride that love brings. For your love goes beyond what your eyes can see.

Such when teeth shall fall, smile starts to fade, when wrinkles start to show, and muscles start to sag, when memory starts to waver and conversations start to be less NatGeo, and when bodies start to become like Buddha…

You’d still be able to find the same love even with the silence of all the reasons that you thought ignited the love you had.

For all these shall fade out…

But your love shall stay…

So if you’ll ask me why I love you…

I’ll prolly just look into your eyes, coyly smile and say,

“Just because…”

Sunday, May 23, 2010

An open letter to Noynoy by F. Sionil José

(Reposted from Chuvaness.com, I just thought to repost to share, I think it's rather important, thanks ate cecile.)

Dear Noynoy,

You are now swamped with suggestions and advice, but just the same, I hope you’ll have time to read what this octogenarian has to say.

You were not my choice in the last election but since our people have spoken, we must now support you and pray that you prevail. But first, I must remind you of the stern reality that your drumbeaters ignore: you have no noble legacy from your forbears. It is now your arduous job to create one yourself in the six years that you will be the single most powerful Filipino. Six years is too short a time — the experience in our part of the world is that it takes at least one generation — 25 years — for a sick nation to recover and prosper. But you can begin that happy process of healing.

Bear in mind that the past weighs heavily on all of us because of the many contradictions in it that we have not resolved, whose resolutions would strengthen us as a nation. This past is now your burden, too. Let us start with the fact that your grandfather collaborated with the Japanese. Your father was deeply aware of this, its stigma, its possibilities. He did not leave any legacy because he did not become president. He was a brilliant and courageous politician. He was an enterprising journalist; he had friends in journalism who can attest to his effulgent vision, who did not profit from his friendship, among them Nestor Mata, Gregorio Brillantes — you may consult them. I cannot say I did not profit — he bought many books from my shop and when he was in Marcos’s prison, your mother brought books from my shop to him.

Forgive me for giving you this unsolicited advice. First, beware of hubris; you are surrounded by panderers who will tell you what is nice to hear. You need to be humble always and heed your conscience. When Caesar was paraded in ancient Rome before the cheering multitudes, there was always a man chanting behind him: “Remember, you are mortal.”

I say to you, remember, the poor — some of them in your own hacienda — will be your ultimate judge.

From your comfortable and privileged cocoon, you know so little of our country and people. Seek the help of the best — and the best do not normally want to work in government and neither will they approach you. You have to seek them.

Be the revolutionary your father wanted to be and don’t be scared or wary of the word “revolution.” It need not be always bloody. EDSA I was not. Your father wanted to destroy the most formidable obstacle to our progress — the Oligarchy to which you and your family belong. To succeed, you have to betray your class. If you cannot smash the oligarchy, at least strive to have their wealth develop this country, that they bring back the billions they stashed abroad. You cannot do this in six years, but you can begin.

Prosecute the crooks. It is difficult, thankless and even dangerous to do this. Your mother did not do it — she did not jail Imelda who was the partner in that conjugal dictatorship that plundered this nation. Watch her children — they were much too young to have participated in that looting but they are heirs to the billions which their parents stashed abroad. Now the Marcoses are on the high road to power, gloating, snickering at our credulity and despicable amnesia.

You know the biggest crooks in and out of government, those powerful smugglers, thieves, tax cheats — all you really need is guts to clobber them. Your father had lots of it — I hope he passed on to you most of it.

And most of all, now that you have the muscle to do it, go after your father’s killers. Blood and duty compel you to do so. Cory was only his wife — you are the anointed and only son. Your regime will be measured by how you resolve this most blatant crime that robbed us of a true leader.

And, finally, your mother. We loved her — she united us in ousting an abominable dictator. But she, too, did not leave a shining legacy for her presidency was a disaster. She announced a revolutionary government but did nothing revolutionary. She promised land reform but did not do it. And most grievous of all — she transformed the EDSA I revolution into a restoration of the oligarchy.

She became president only because her husband was murdered and you became president elect only because your mother died. Still, you are your father’s son and may you now — for the good of this country and people — scale the heights he and your mother never reached.

I am 85 and how I despair over how three generations of our leaders failed! Before I go, please let me see this unhappy country begin to be a much better place than the garbage dump our leaders and people have made it. You can be this long awaited messiah but only if you are brave enough and wise enough to redeem your father’s aborted promise.

Hopefully yours,

F. Sionil Jose

Via
Philippine Star

Friday, May 21, 2010

A cross...

Click picture to enlarge

 

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