jun.anteola

Mahal ang bigas. Mahal ang gasolina. I still can’t get over the shock, the horror and the anger about the previous week’s tragedy at sea. Some issues at work remain unresolved…

Still, I can’t complain much.  The orthodontics training is halfway through. The old folks are enjoying their dream vacation. The “wayward” bro decided to go back to school, and has enrolled in his choice of study. The favorite nephew is a bundle of pleasant surprises and pride, day in and out. The sis-in-law’s niece/adopted little sister is unwell, but has a sure chance of recovering sooner…

Today I decided to reconcile with someone, and it’s overwhelming how this singular act seems to have opened for a flood of forgiveness over transgressions done by others too. I am at peace.

I won’t be this grateful hadn’t there been upsets and adversities earlier. And with the way things are right now, I am blessed, more than I have asked for.

Best Days  (Juice)

Am I happy - maybe not
But I never wanna lose what I got
I wouldn’t trade it for anything dear to my heart, oh no
You take the good times with the bad
How else would you know happy from sad
Sooner or later
Youre gonna have to finally look back
And you’ll look back and see
What happened in between
And you’ll appreciate
Each and every single day
*The pop of the cork
And the cling of the glasses
We toast to the future
And we drink to the past
It might not be easy
But nevertheless
These are the best days (of our lives)
Sometimes the weather can be rain
But one day it will be sunny again
Without the clouds of life
It’s just another sunny day
Repeat*
These are the times
That I will never forget
These are the best days (of our lives)
And you’ll look back and see
What happened in between
And you’ll appreciate
Each and every single day
Repeat*
It might not be easy
But nevertheless
These are the best days (of our lives)

My five-year-old nephew threw a fit tonight and all because he made one mistake over his spelling. We were waiting for someone to have dinner with and while at it, his papa played a spelling game with him and his cousins. One of them got two, the other got none right, while our Hughie got four out of five. It took him the whole time fussing about it, up until we got to the dimsum house. From the surprise at seeing him get teary-eyed because he didn’t get 100% correct, to the amusement at hearing him blame his papa for giving them a difficult word and his declaration that it was his father who couldn’t spell right, to the annoyance at all the hysteric he was making… our attempts at telling him that it is alright to make a mistake just wouldn’t calm him down - he sure got us all thinking.

After dinner, we asked him to spell the offending word again. If only to drive to him that he can learn from making mistakes. This time he got it right, and a huge smile it was that we got, and banter away he did like he didn’t get us so stressed earlier.

It leaves me wondering now how frustrating it must be for his mother (who takes care of him full time) and his teachers at prep school whenever this happens, and what they do to deal with it. Perhaps constant reassurance that it’s ok, because it may take long before he gets to understand and appreciate it.

I’ve noticed he takes offense when he doesn’t get something right the first time, too. And my suspicion is, he expects the same from others, be they his friends, or us adults with him. He doesn’t like to get back to old lessons as well. The slightest disappointment gets him wailing… sulking…

Do these sound familiar to you?

I just hope it’s a passing stage, as I can imagine how debilitating it can be to his learning. So far, so good. He’s starting kinder 2 tomorrow.

I had the chance to view ABC5’s feature of Batad: Sa Paang Palay (Benjie Garcia and Vic Acedillo Jr. , 2006)tonight and it’s a very welcome respite from the usual tv melodrama fare the family is forced to watch on weeknights. I wasn’t able to catch the very beginning of the film, and had to look for its title in the internet. Such is my admiration for it, I had to know the production details. A simple online search not only gave me that, but led me to commendable, reliable reviews as well, by Rianne Hill Soriano and Eboy Donato , to name a few.

The credible acting, beautiful scenery, apt music, its revelation of a culture largely unfamiliar, the light and simplified presentation of an otherwise complex subject matter, the uncontrived humor — all made for viewing that draws the viewer into the story of an adolescent Ag-ap, wanting to leave his village to pursue a perceived better life outside of it. If only he has a good pair of shoes. Personally, its allegory struck a cord in me, the promdi professional stuck in small city Oz.

I find it ironic that on commercial breaks, the station showed PBA adverts extolling its new and upcoming stars, who are mostly Fil-Am, judging by the accented Tagalog. I’m not a big fan of basketball, more so with PBA. I’d rather watch NBA where, for me, the real hoop action is. I have nothing against the PBA drafting “foreign” players. If they can deliver, well and good. And at least, they’re acknowledging their Philippine roots. But I’d be happier if it looks into the potentials of young Filipino men in the provinces, who dream just as high and can achieve bigger things if given the chance, the proper programs to develop them and ensure continuity. There should be, there could be, but they must be ineffective. Otherwise we won’t have to look for athletes from beyond our shores.

In saying this, I am showing partiality towards homegrown players. This, because I am thinking that imports are already better off, and have the edge of doing better in life and not just in basketball, compared to their provincial/local counterparts. I am not familiar with the backgrounds of these Fil-Ams, but having at least one foot on good old US of A is an advantage in case things don’t work out fine here in RP. The local boys only have pitiable classrooms, extended families and bogus leaders to fall back on. Correct me if I’m so wrong.

…wala lang… naisip ko lang.

Care for some cake?

Well, ok, this wasn’t my birthday cake. But the idea came as an afterthought, after all of it was already gone. Right out of the blue, after quite a long hiatus, I felt the urge to write about the surprise party, the cake and the people who were with me. I was specially touched by the gesture, it made me hale and hearty enough to spring back from the slump and blog again.

I had no plan of making a fuss about turning older. In fact, I dreaded the thought of it. I was cool with being 35 last year, but 36!?! How close is that to 75!?! It felt like I have crossed the defining line between young and old. I was hoping nobody would remember, except my family, of course. My father’s birthday comes the day after mine, and as he never enjoys parties, we both are used to celebrating it in silence. I was fine about the thought that it should be over soon without anyone noticing. Continue reading this entry »

It had been a long time since my family last got together for a fun trip, and spending Sunday at the MOAP was well worth the short ride from Ozamiz. Except for a couple of aunts and my tatay, who always manages to give some flimsy reason not to go when such occasions come (be it outings, parties, weddings, etc), everybody who went had something to be happy about. I have always loved the beach, but the experience moved it several notches up my “most memorable” and “best holidays” lists.

The Misamis Occidental Aquamarine Park is the province’s best bet for eco-tourism, and boasts of a mangrove forest, a mini zoo, an ostrich farm, fish hatcheries, marine reserve, boat rides, fresh seafood, and beach frolic.

The best part of it was Dolphin Island, a short boat ride away, where the real fun is at. There’s a sanctuary for dolphins open for public viewing, and which the kids loved. I counted ten, and of different species. I was told these were bottlenose and pantropical spotted dolphins, and a single false killer whale. Continue reading this entry »

Nephew: Tito, is grandpa your dad? And grandma your mom?

Me: Yes, they are.

Nephew: And isn’t grandpa my papa’s father, too? And grandma my papa’s mom?

Me: Yes, of course. That makes me and your papa, brothers.

Nephew: You are both their babies?

Me: We used to be their babies, just like you were your mama and papa’s.

Nephew: Why do you fight a lot? People here fight much…

It took me some time to realize that he was referring to the occasional, casual disagreements in the household, which may have had us raising voices. When impassioned, we sometimes do. Even if the issue is as trivial as Kris Aquino’s lovelife, on whether Maria Flordeluna’s storyline was changed from that which starred Janice, NBA upsets, or most recently, why Chiz should be voted for. I tried to explain to him that we weren’t actually quarreling, we never do.

But what difference does it make to a four-year-old?

 

MAY 5, 2005: A counselor in red soccer jersey & his team brought me to It Works! After hours, I was transferred to LS for detoxification. On May 9th, monday, I started Day 1 and attended my 1st A A Meeting. Thank You for helping me… Today, I am two (2) years CLEAN & SOBER…

My brother sent this text message to me this morning. I wanted to say, “how time flies!”, but taking his perspective, these two years of daily struggle against drug addiction has been a long, challenging crawl through the tunnel’s end.

All that happened about his healing still remain fresh, etched in memory, to serve as a battery of lessons about life, love and family.

The family never expected it to happen to anyone among us. We saw no reason for him to get into it. He didn’t either. Like the rest of them. Nobody intends to get caught into its trap. Lucky are those who are able to get away from it after the first few tries, or are able to occasionally have its thrill without discernible harm. Maybe it just isn’t their thing. But for most, the promise of temporal pleasure is just too hard to ignore and let pass. And it doesn’t take long to get hooked, even before they know it. By then it will be too late to see that there is no sense in playing Russian roulette with life. Continue reading this entry »