tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29312165917290590272024-02-08T03:08:25.235-08:00On the road to catharsis...Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-53899833812673038512012-05-10T09:12:00.002-07:002012-05-10T09:12:40.906-07:00The Law Of The Garbage Truck<span>I hopped in a taxi and we took off for Indianapolis Airport. We
were driving in the right lane when, all of a sudden, a black car jumped
out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on
his breaks, skidded, and missed the other car’s back end by just inches!<br /><br />
The driver of the other car, the guy who almost caused a big accident,
whipped his head around and he started yelling bad words at us. My taxi
driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And, I mean, he was friendly.<br /><br />
So, I said, ‘Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car
and sent us to the hospital!’ And this is when my taxi driver told me
what I now call, ‘The Law of the Garbage Truck.’<br /><strong><em><br />
“Many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage,
full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their
garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it. And if you let them,
they’ll dump it on you. When someone wants to dump on you, don’t take it
personally. You just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. You’ll
be happy you did.”</em></strong><br /> So this was it: The ‘Law of the
Garbage Truck.’ I started thinking, how often do I let Garbage Trucks
run right over me? And how often do I take their garbage and spread it
to other people: at work, at home, on the streets?<br /><br /> It was that day I said, ‘I’m not going to do it anymore.’<br /><br />
I began to see garbage trucks. Like in the movie ‘The Sixth Sense,’ the
little boy said, ‘I see Dead People.’ Well, now ‘I see Garbage Trucks.’
I see the load they’re carrying. I see them coming to drop it off. And
like my taxi driver, I don’t make it a personal thing; I just smile,
wave, wish them well, and I move on.<br /><br /> Good leaders know they have
to be ready for their next meeting. Good parents know that they have to
welcome their children home from school with hugs and kisses. Leaders
and parents know that they have to be fully present, and at their best,
for the people they care about.<br /><br /><strong>The bottom line is that successful people do not let Garbage Trucks take over their day.</strong><br /><br /> —- <strong><span>Author Unknown</span></strong></span>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-14953278212779908822012-05-04T16:08:00.002-07:002012-05-04T16:08:52.254-07:00Principles of Life<ul>
<li>Winning isn’t everything but wanting to win is.</li>
<li>You would achieve more, if you don’t mind who gets the credit.</li>
<li>When everything else is lost, the future still remains.</li>
<li>Don’t fight too much or the enemy will know your art of war.</li>
<li>The only job you start at the top is when you dig a grave.</li>
<li>If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for everything.</li>
<li>If you do little things well, you’ll do big ones better.</li>
<li>Only thing that comes to you without effort is old age.</li>
<li>You won’t get a second chance to make a first impression.</li>
<li>Only those who do nothing do not make mistakes.</li>
<li>Never take a problem to your boss unless you have a solution.</li>
<li>If you are not failing, you’re not taking enough risks.</li>
<li>Don’t try to get rid of your bad temper by losing it.</li>
<li>If at first you don’t succeed, skydiving is not for you.</li>
<li>Those who don’t make mistakes usually don’t make anything.</li>
<li>There are two kinds of failures: Those who think and never do, and those who do and never think.</li>
<li>Pick battles big enough to matter, small enough to win.</li>
<li>All progress has resulted from unpopular decisions.</li>
<li>Change your thoughts and you change your world.</li>
<li>Understanding proves intelligence, not the speed of the learning.</li>
<li>There are two kinds of fools in this world.: Those who give advice and those who don’t take it.</li>
<li>The best way to kill an idea is to take it to a meeting.</li>
<li>Management is doing things right. Leadership is doing the right things.</li>
<li>Friendship founded on business is always better than business founded on friendship. </li>
</ul>
<em>—- <strong>Compiled by Tony Peeris —- India</strong></em>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-20094551348194646022012-05-04T16:07:00.002-07:002012-05-04T16:07:38.841-07:00Nobody's FriendMy name is Gossip. <br /><br /> I have no respect for justice.<br /><br /> I break hearts and ruin lives.<br /><br /> I am cunning, malicious and gather strength with age.<br /> The more I am quoted, the more I am believed.<br /> I flourish at every level of society.<br /><br /> My victims are helpless.<br /><br /> They cannot protect themselves against me because<br /> I have no name and no face.<br /> To track me down is impossible.<br /> The harder you try, the more elusive I become.<br /><br /> I am nobody’s friend.<br /><br /> Once I tarnish a reputation, it is never the same.<br /><br /> I topple governments and wreck marriages.<br /> I ruin careers and cause sleepless nights, heartaches and indigestion.<br /><br /> I spawn suspicion and generate grief.<br /> I make innocent people cry in their pillows.<br /><br /> Even my name hisses.<br /><br /> I am called GOSSIP.<br /><br /> Office gossip<br /> Shop gossip<br /> Party gossip<br /> Telephone gossip<br /><br /> I make headlines and headaches.<br /><br /> REMEMBER, when you repeat a story, ask yourself:<br /><br /> is it true?<br /> Is it fair?<br /> Is it necessary??<br /> If not, do not repeat it.<br /><br />- author unknownNoliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-34461140953193784472012-05-04T16:06:00.001-07:002012-05-04T16:06:35.866-07:00When A Winner Loses, He Always Comes Back To Be A Better WinnerRefuse to remain fallen.<br /><br /> Refuse to quit. <br /><br /> Refuse to give up. <br /><br /> Refuse to accept a ‘No’ from life.<br /><br />
To fail without putting in the efforts is wrong, but failure in itself
can never be wrong. Dare to fail, for only those who fail enough can
succeed enough. More than any one single factor, it is your fear of
failure that is going to leave you as a failure. <br /><br /> No new venture
guarantees success and no new diversification promises profits.
Champions understand that it is better to face outstanding failures than
mediocre successes. Only those who are willing to persist in spite of
temporary set backs, only those who are willing to persevere in spite of
midway failures, only those who would not succumb to defeats, can
finally sign their own success stories.<br /><br /> Failure is a parenthesis
inside which success hides and history makers dig them out through
relentless striving against all those failures. Life cannot be
punctuated with success alone; failure too will find its imprints.<br /><br /> There is no sunrise without sunset.<br /><br /> There is no life without death.<br /><br /> There is no success without failures.<br /><br /> Learn from your failures and move on. Keep on keeping on. When a winner loses, always come back to be better winner. <br /><br /><strong><em> —- Sri T. T. Rangarajan, Editor, Frozen Thoughts</em></strong>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-62286076624140548512012-05-04T16:05:00.004-07:002012-05-04T16:05:35.665-07:00A short course in human relations<strong>The six most important words: </strong><br />‘I admit that I was wrong’ <br /><br /><strong>The five most important words:</strong><br /><br />‘You did a great job’ <br /><br /><strong>The four most important words:</strong><br /><br />‘What do you think?’ <br /><br /><strong>The three most important words:</strong><br /><br />‘Could you please…’ <br /><br /><strong>The two most important words:</strong><br /><br />‘Thank you’ <br /><br /><strong>The most important word: </strong><br />‘We’ <br /><br /><strong>The least important word:</strong><br /><br />‘I’Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-53146310026710895182012-05-01T17:45:00.001-07:002012-05-01T22:30:21.661-07:00Potatoes, Eggs and Coffee Beans<div class="MsoNormal">
Once upon a time, a daughter complained to
her father that her life was miserable and that she didn’t know how she
was going to make it. She was tired of fighting and struggling all the
time. It seemed just as one problem was solved, another one soon
followed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her father, a chef, took her to the kitchen.
He filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once the
three pots began to boil, he placed potatoes in one pot, eggs in the
second pot, and ground coffee beans in the third pot. He then let them
sit and boil, without saying a word to his daughter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The daughter moaned and impatiently waited,
wondering what he was doing. After twenty minutes, he turned off the
burners. He took the potatoes out of the pot and placed them in a bowl.
He pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. He then ladled the
coffee out and placed it in a cup.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Turning to her, he asked, “Daughter, what do you see?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Potatoes, eggs, and coffee,” she hastily replied.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Look closer,” he said, “and touch the potatoes.” She did and noted that they were soft.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, he asked her to sip the coffee. Its rich aroma brought a smile to her face.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Father, what does this mean?” she asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He then explained that the potatoes, the
eggs, and coffee beans had each faced the same adversity, the boiling
water. However, each one reacted differently.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The potato went in strong, hard and
unrelenting, but in boiling water it became soft and weak. The egg was
fragile with the thin outer shell protecting its liquid interior until
it was put in the boiling water. Then the inside of the egg became hard.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, the ground coffee beans were unique.
After they were exposed to the boiling water, they changed the water
and created something new.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Which are you?” he asked his daughter. “When
adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a potato, an
egg, or a coffee bean?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In life, things happen around us and things happen to us, but the only thing that truly matters is what happens within us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i> (storiesfortrainers.com)</i></b></div>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-74383285486069867522012-05-01T17:42:00.001-07:002012-05-01T17:42:16.183-07:00The Cracked Pot<div class="body hasMarkup">
A water bearer in China had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which he carried across his neck.<br /><br />One
pot had a crack in it, while the other pot was perfect and always
delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the
stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.<br /><br />For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his house.<br /><br />Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect for which it was made.<br /><br />But
the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable
that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to
do.<br /><br />After 2 years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it
spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream… “I am ashamed of
myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the
way back to your house.”<br /><br />The bearer said to the pot, “Did you
notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, but not on
the other pot’s side?” That’s because I have always known about your
flaw, and I planted flower seeds on your side of the path. Every day
while we walk back, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able
to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table.<br /><br />“Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.”<br /><br />Moral:
Although each of us may have our own unique flaws, it is in our
uniqueness that we find our special talents and have an opportunity to
brighten up the world for ourselves and others!<br />
<br />
<b><i>(storiesfortrainers.com)</i></b></div>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-68935500290267739432012-05-01T17:41:00.001-07:002012-05-01T17:41:10.309-07:00The 7 Failures That Will Make You a Better Leader<div class="body hasMarkup">
<strong>“<em>Success Covers a Multitude of Blunders</em>”</strong>.<br />
<br />
That was a famous quote from George Bernard Shaw, and it has always
stuck with me throughout my career as a leader and executive.<br />
<br />
What it ultimately told me was yes, I was going to fail – multiple
times. But if I was truly determined to overcome, or “cover” them, I
absolutely needed to learn from every failure, and leverage that
accumulated learning into success.<br />
<br />
In so many ways, I’ve grown to appreciate my failures – as
counterintuitive as that may seem. Because I now know if I just let
them go, without reflection, then they were doomed to be repeated.<br />
<br />
There are 7 failures that I believe bring the best improvement opportunities:<br />
<ul>
<li><strong>Failure to Prioritize</strong> – Many a bad decision has
come from our lack of perspective on the importance of one thing over
another. The key learning here is to fully grasp the concept of
“opportunity cost” – the cost of NOT doing something in favor of
something else.</li>
<li><strong>Failure to Decide</strong> – If the buck is going to stop
with us, then we need the courage to make timely decisions, regardless
of consensus or the lack of 100% of the information needed to make them.
We learn that more often than not, it’s better to “do something” then
let fear and inertia overtake us.</li>
<li><strong>Failure to Progress – </strong>When a target is reached, the
bar must be raised. And when that target is hit, it must be raised
again. And again. Complacency is a state that HAS to be avoided, at all
costs, and the ultimate learning here is that continuous improvement is
an essential focus of any enterprise.</li>
<li><strong>Failure to Praise – </strong>Great talent needs to be
nurtured and retained, in a manner that goes well beyond the paychecks
and bonuses. These lessons come hard, after the loss of individuals
who felt unappreciated and undervalued. We learn that humans need to
hear those simple words – “<em>You did a great job</em>”.</li>
<li><strong>Failure to Trust – </strong>When first taking on a
leadership role, there’s always a strong “pull” to be involved in every
decision, or to want to “sign off” on literally every dollar spent or
contract signed. Until we learn that trust is an essential part of
great leadership, we are doomed to overwork and a huge misapplication of
time and talent.</li>
<li><strong>Failure to Mediate – </strong>Every organization will have
conflicts, whether it is person to person, or department to department.
Successful leaders learn that stepping into the breach to resolve them,
rather than standing back or ignoring them, can avoid even bigger
problems down the road, and build influence throughout an organization.</li>
<li><strong>Failure to Fire – </strong>Nobody likes to fire anybody.
It’s one of the toughest things a leader will ever do. But when you
know in your gut it’s time to cut the cord, cut it. Don’t wait. Your
gut will usually be right. The failures here are a lesson to the heart –
it can’t get in the way of these decisions (but it certainly can come
into play in the manner in which it is handled).</li>
</ul>
Remember this lesson from the baseball diamond: You don’t have
to bat 1,000% to be successful, but when you swing and miss, get out of
the box, think, and then learn before you step back in and hit that home
run.<br />
- - - -<br />
(<a href="http://www.terrystarbucker.com/2012/04/08/the-7-failures-that-will-make-you-a-better-leader/" target="_blank">http://www.terrystarbucker.com/2012/04/08/the-7-failures-that-will-make-you-a-better-leader/</a>)</div>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-65637555582286350862012-05-01T17:39:00.001-07:002012-05-01T17:39:51.881-07:00Parable of the Pencil<strong style="font-weight: normal;">The Pencil Maker took the pencil aside, just before putting him into the box. <br /><br />
“There are 5 things you need to know,” he told the pencil, “Before I
send you out into the world. Always remember them and never forget,
and you will become the best pencil you can be.”<br /><br /><em>“One:</em> You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in Someone’s hand.”<br /><br /><em>“Two:</em> You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, but you’ll need it to become a better pencil.”<br /><br /><em>“Three:</em> You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make.”<br /><br /><em>“Four:</em> The most important part of you will always be what’s inside.”<br /><br /><em>“And Five:</em> On every <a class="kLink" href="http://www.indianchild.com/parable_of_the_pencil.htm#" id="KonaLink0" target="_blank"><span class="kLink">surface</span></a> you are used on, you must leave your mark. No matter what the condition, you must continue to write.”<br /><br /> The pencil understood and promised to remember, and went into the box with purpose in its heart.<br /><br /><br />
Now replacing the place of the pencil with you. Always remember them
and never forget, and you will become the best person you can be. <br /><br /><em>One:</em>
You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow
yourself to be held in God’s hand. And allow other human beings to
access you for the many gifts you possess.<br /><br /><em>Two:</em> You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, by going through various problems in <a class="kLink" href="http://www.indianchild.com/parable_of_the_pencil.htm#" id="KonaLink1" target="_blank"><span class="kLink">life</span></a>, but you’ll need it to become a stronger person. <br /><br /><em>Three:</em> You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make. <br /><br /><em>Four:</em> The most important part of you will always be what’s on the inside.<br /><br /><em>And Five:</em> On every surface you walk through, you must leave your mark. No matter what the situation, you must continue to do your duties.<br /><br /><br /><em>Allow
this parable on the pencil to encourage you to know that you are a
special person and only you can fulfill the purpose to which you were
born to accomplish.</em><br /><br /><em> Never allow yourself to get discouraged and think that your life is insignificant and cannot make a change.</em></strong><strong><br /></strong>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-39983711682621657302012-05-01T17:38:00.001-07:002012-05-01T17:38:29.336-07:00Lessons from Geese<div class="body hasMarkup">
<strong>FACT 1:</strong><br /><br />As each
goose flaps its wings it creates an “uplift” for the birds that follow.
By flying in a “V” formation, the whole flock adds 71% greater flying
range than if each bird flew alone.<br /><br /><strong>Lesson:</strong><br /><br />People
who share a common direction and sense of community can get where they
are going quicker and easier because they are traveling on the thrust of
one another.<br /><br /><strong>FACT 2:</strong><br />When a goose falls
out of formation, it suddenly feels the drag and resistance of flying
alone. It quickly moves back into formation to take advantage of the
lifting power of the bird immediately in front of it.<br /><br /><strong>Lesson:</strong><br /><br />If
we have as much sense as a goose we stay in formation with those headed
where we want to go. We are willing to accept their help and give our
help to others.<br /><br /><strong>FACT 3:</strong><br /><br />When the lead goose tires, it rotates back into formation and another goose flies to the point position.<br /><br /><strong>Lesson:</strong><br /><br />It
pays to take turns doing the hard tasks and sharing leadership. As with
geese, people are interdependent on each other’s skills, capabilities
and unique arrangements of gifts, talents or resources.<br /><br /><strong>FACT 4:</strong><br /><br />The geese flying in formation honk to encourage those up front to keep up their speed.<br /><br /><strong>Lesson:</strong><br /><br />We
need to make sure our honking is encouraging. In groups where there is
encouragement, the production is much greater. The power of
encouragement (to stand by one’s heart or core values and encourage the
heart and core of others) is the quality of honking we seek.<br /><br /><strong>FACT 5:</strong><br /><br />When
a goose gets sick, wounded or shot down, two geese drop out of
formation and follow it to help and protect it. They stay with it until
it dies or is able to fly again. Then, they launch out with another
formation or catch up with the flock.<br /><br /><strong>Lesson:</strong><br /><br />If we have as much sense as geese, we will stand by each other in difficult times as well as when we are strong.<br />
<br />
<i><b>(storiesfortrainers.com)</b></i><br />
<div>
</div>
<div>
<b><em>~Based on work by Milton Olson</em></b></div>
</div>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-57108447624208044282012-05-01T17:37:00.001-07:002012-05-01T17:37:24.386-07:00A Man and His DogA man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the
scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He
remembered dying, and that his faithful dog had been dead for many
years. He wondered where the road was leading them. After a while, they
came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked
like fine marble. As he reached the wall, he saw a magnificent gate in
the arch, and the street that led to the gate made from pure gold. He
and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man
at a desk to one side.<br />
<br />
When he was close enough, he called out, “Excuse me, where are we?”<br />
<br />
“This is heaven, sir,” the man answered.<br />
<br />
“Wow! Would you happen to have some water? We have traveled far,” the man said.<br />
<br />
“Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.”<br />
<br />
The man gestured, and the gate began to open.<br />
<br />
“Can my friend,” gesturing toward his dog, “come in, too?” the traveler asked.<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.”<br />
<br />
The
man thought a moment, remembering all the years this dog remained loyal
to him and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he
had been going. After another long walk he came to a plain dirt road,
which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been
closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man
inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.<br />
<br />
“Excuse me!” he called to the reader. “Do you have any water? We have traveled far.”<br />
<br />
“Yes,
sure, there’s a faucet over there.” The man pointed to a place that
couldn’t be seen from outside the gate. “Come on in and help yourself.”<br />
<br />
“How about my friend here?” the traveler gestured to his dog.<br />
<br />
“There should be a bowl by the faucet; he is welcome to share.”<br />
<br />
They
went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned
faucet with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the bowl and took a
long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full,
he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree
waiting for them.<br />
<br />
“What do you call this place?” the traveler asked.<br />
<br />
“This is heaven,” was the answer.<br />
<br />
“Well, that’s confusing,” the traveler said. “The man down the road said that was heaven, too.”<br />
<br />
“Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That’s hell.”<br />
<br />
“Doesn’t it make you mad for them to use your name like that?”<br />
<br />
“No. We’re just happy that they screen out the folks who’d leave their best friends behind in exchange for material things.”<br />
<br />
<b><i>(storiesfortrainers.com)</i></b>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-25601264243714402922012-05-01T17:35:00.002-07:002012-05-01T17:35:37.123-07:00How many dirty judges, justices and lawyers are there?It is jolting to reflect on the corruption of the Judiciary even
though it can be everyday man’s assumption that our justice system
sucks. The poor have long experienced a different kind of justice for
them and a far friendlier one for the rich. That is nothing new and has
been a powerful issue used by the rebellion to recruit partisans. But
corruption is not about a rich-versus-poor scenario, it is the corrupt
for themselves against everybody.<br />
<br />
From the onset, I had welcomed the impeachment trial of Chief Justice
Rene Corona. I have less interest in Rene Corona the person and much,
much more for Rene Corona as the personification of both the Supreme
Court and the Judiciary. It has been a keen interest of mine to have the
public eye focused deliberately to the corruption of the Judiciary
because it is the worst kind of corruption. And if others, especially
the Judiciary and the legal profession would like to make a counter
claim and deny the shameful level of corruption in their area of
responsibility, they may wish to look at how the Philippines can be
considered a corrupt country with one crucial branch not blackened as
well.<br />
<br />
For over thirty years, when I am in the company of lawyers, socially
or professionally, corruption in the Judiciary and the legal profession
has been a given. It used to be that corporations would have legal
retainers on the basis of the relationships of owners of senior
management and lawyers or law firms. But it began to expand a little
when corporations would retain law firms with good connections to judges
and justices. The imbalance of the Judiciary in dispensing justice
warped even more when it went beyond the traditional difference between
justice for the rich and justice for the poor to justice that can be
bought.<br />
<br />
Lawyers and/or law firms with good connections mean good connections
with judges and justices. It means that decisions can be unduly
influenced by relationships, for favors and for money. It means that
judges and justices can be for sale. With judges and justices selling
their decisions, there can only be corruption in the Judiciary.<br />
<br />
The last discussion I had with a youngish lawyer in his 40′s produced
the same information as has been mentioned in the last forty years. He
said it is almost impossible for lawyers or law firms not to know a
dirty judge or justice, and that many of them allow themselves to be
used to corrupt those judges and justices in the interest of their
clients. After all, clients who can afford want insurance far and beyond
the merits of their cases. Why else are they looking for lawyers and
law firms with friendly ties to judges and justices.<br />
<br />
This young lawyer said that lawyers like him who have not established
themselves are not in a position to risk their careers by exposing
dirty judges and justices. He said there is a government agency under
the Judiciary which accepts complaints against wrongdoing by judges and
justices. However, he would never go there because complaints are leaked
and the fate of the lawyer complainant is sealed – no more future in
his profession. He did say that some very well established law firms had
more leeway and courage to make complaints but they hardly do. Most
prefer to keep things quiet and enjoy their advantage over smaller and
newer law firms.<br />
<br />
It was absolutely comical how many lawyers and law firms went to the
defense of a Chief Justice accused of betraying the public’s trust.
Corruption and protecting a former president anticipating plunder cases
against her. It was as though they were fighting for their king – and
they most probably think so. After all, Corona and his lieutenants act
as if he were the Supreme Court, as though accusations against his
character and behaviour are also attacks against the Judiciary.<br />
<br />
Yet, the stained reputation of the Judiciary and its deteriorated
credibility does not seem to upset them at all. They have been acting as
though they are all in one clean branch of government and that the
President of a dirty executive Branch and members of a dirty Congress
had no right to think of their Chief Justice as unfit. They do not even
begin to wonder if there are more dirty justices, judges and lawyers
than dirty policemen by percentage.<br />
<br />
The President was voted in on a platform of change, and change in a
very specific field – corruption. The President is trying to live up to
his promise and mandate. He needs the Judiciary to clean up. Without the
Judiciary, the President only has one option for reform – a
revolutionary government. What the President starts has to end with the
Judiciary, has to end with justice being dispensed with firmness in a
society long wracked by corruption.<br />
<br />
Instead, Chief Justice Rene Corona and the majority of the Supreme
Court have been the biggest and worst impediments for PNoy’s
reform-focused government. It does not make it easier for the President
to push a reform agenda by going after the Chief Justice, but a Chief
Justice sneaked into his position around midnight forces a
confrontation. The two of them cannot co-exist in harmony unless both
agree to the cleansing of government.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>The impeachment trial is not about Corona, it is about
corruption in the judiciary. I understand, therefore, why the Corona
cohorts in the Supreme Court who gave him a technical opening to be
appointed in the dead of night have to protect him, and one another. I
understand why judges and court employees have to defend one of their
own as though they are defending their way of life. I under why many
lawyers and law firms are totally uncomfortable with a President
challenging corruption in the Judiciary. After all, when judges and
justices do business with litigants, the lawyers are the usual
go-between, the negotiators, the couriers of cash or favors.</em></strong><br />
<br />
It is not easy to beat the system, even if that system is a cancer
that gnaw at the soul and nobility of the Filipino people. If we are
afraid to confront the cancer, we can at least ask, “How many dirty
justices, judges and lawyers are there?”<br />
<br />
<strong>- - - - </strong><br />
<i><strong><a href="http://opinion.inquirer.net/byline/jose-ma-montelibano" rel="tag" target="_blank">Jose Ma. Montelibano</a></strong></i><strong> <i><a href="http://opinion.inquirer.net/source/philippine-daily-inquirer" rel="tag" target="_blank">Philippine Daily Inquirer</a> </i><span class="postDate"><i>Friday, March 9th, 2012 </i></span></strong>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-86356665301401538042012-05-01T11:13:00.001-07:002012-05-01T11:13:50.477-07:00Fatherless<div class="body hasMarkup">
My father died when I was barely five
years old. The cause of his death according to his death certificate was
internal hemorrhage. I do not know what the medical term was that time.
All I know was that he was stabbed one afternoon by one of his peers in
a drinking session. And I saw right before my eyes the things that had
happened that afternoon. That one afternoon that later on changed our
lives.<br />
<br />
I cried seeing my father helplessly crawl while blood profusely comes
out from his body. We sought for help yet no one dared coming to us out
of fear. He did not make it. Had there been a municipal hospital he
could have been still alive. Had my mother just handed him our shotgun
he could have protected himself. Had our neighbors and their drinking
peers mediated at the onset of the dispute there could have been no
death. Life could have been kinder on us.<br />
<br />
It was hard to grow up fatherless especially in a family of six
siblings devoid of economic stability. My mother, a former teacher, had
no choice but to momentarily give my two older brothers and eldest
sister to our well-off relatives so that they could continue studying.
The three of us were left on her custody. Life was simple and hard in
the province. Our daily survival is a struggle. After my father’s death,
I could not remember any merry Christmas and happy New Year.<br />
<br />
Eventually, we moved to Rizal and then permanently to Manila. We left
the painful memories and rough life in Ilo-ilo. And as we moved from
one place to another, life became smoother. There were big problems and
difficulties yet we were able to overcome them. And as we picked up the
broken pieces of ourselves, we were able to surpass the challenges
brought up by a family without a foundation – without a father.<br />
<br />
Looking back, it was a challenge for us to grow up fatherless. Our
lives seem incomplete. Part of us is missing and we do not know where to
find it. There is always emptiness, longing, and crave for a father.
There’s always “what if’s” and “could have been’s”. And we always have
no choice. For the three of us who were very young when my father died,
we do not know what a father figure is. Being the youngest, I was not
able to know and feel what fatherly love is all about.<br />
<br />
Based on stories I heard from our mother and from other relatives,
our father is very diligent, hard working and industrious. He is a
family man in the real sense of the word. He is taciturn, resourceful,
brave and protective. He has a green thumb. He toiled our lands and
cultivated our fishponds. He is a good fisherman, businessman and he has
ventured in many trades in order to provide for the family.<br />
<br />
During elementary days, I am shy during opening of classes when we
are being asked to introduce ourselves and tell something about our
families. I am conscious of what my classmates’ reactions would be. I do
not want to be pitied. And every time I go on stage to accept my medals
during recognition days and every time I emerged victorious in
competitions, there is always a feeling that my father could have been
very proud of me. He and my mother could have been the ones going on
stage with me. Eventually I get used to it.<br />
<br />
I was curious on how it is to be disciplined by a father, does it
have any difference on how my mother does it. If still alive, will my
father teach me how to drink, how to smoke, how to court? Will he be the
one to assist me on the day that I will be circumcised? Will he teach
me how to fist fight, drive a car or to shoot with a gun? They say
fathers are good advisers. Is he also like that? I have so many
questions, yet I am clueless on the answers.<br />
<br />
I am imagining dining with the family where my father would talk
about how was his day in work. And my brothers and sisters would talk
about their studies. Later we will go to the sea and catch fish, he will
teach me how to climb our mango and coconut trees, or we will fly kites
or ride bikes. After all, it is free to imagine.<br />
<br />
The greatest lesson this incompleteness had given us is independence,
determination and maturity. We have learned so many things on our own.
We do not expect so much and we live a simple life. We value the virtue
of sharing and cooperation. We are protective, understanding and helpful
to each other.<br />
<br />
My five siblings have now individual careers and families. As the
youngest, I am the only one still studying and unsettled. Our lives were
not that successful but nonetheless we still continue to aim for a
better life. A better life that is no longer for us but for the families
we have.<br />
<br />
To our mother, we owe you our lives - who we are today. You were not
able to give us a well-off life, but as I remember those days when you
cry when you cannot give what we need, I know deep in my heart that it
is all what you want and dream for us. Without you our values would not
be intact and we won’t become better persons. Your unconditional love
and continued support for us is enough for us to realize that we are
still lucky and grateful.<br />
<br />
To our father, wherever you are right now, we love you. We know that
you continuously guide us up there. Thank you for the gift of life and
for being a good provider when you were still alive. Your life and love
will always be remembered and treasured.<br />
<br />
As I look back, I have realized so many things. Being fatherless is
not a misfortune. It is a challenge to go on with life and fulfill the
incompleteness and emptiness. It is a deficiency but it is neither an
excuse nor a hindrance on becoming a complete and better person. It is
not easy but if you hold on and treasure what is left you will
eventually feel better. After all, life is what we make it.</div>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-73984294493535086392012-05-01T11:11:00.001-07:002012-05-01T11:11:12.445-07:00Stale ‘pandesal’<div class="body hasMarkup">
In school, we were told to watch the news
or read the newspaper daily. As journalism students, we were supposed
to make it a habit to read about current events and watch the latest
broadcast on what was happening in the country and around the world.
We were not told to understand what these events meant, all we were
asked to do was see if the stories were well researched or well
written. The implications of what was happening were always lost in
our search for other angles that could have been explored or which
facts had been left undisclosed.<br />
<br />
Every news article was put under a microscope as we checked if all
the rules and exemptions of journalism had been followed. It was a
mechanical search for protocols, for rules, for compliance, and for the
validity of each word written or uttered.<br />
<br />
<span>For some time, the thought that I was actually reading an
article about a 12-year-old girl who had been raped and killed or about
a family that had been murdered in their own<span id="dtx-highlighting-item"> home </span>didn’t bother me. I was concerned only with the semantics.</span><br />
<br />
That was how we are trained: although how events affect the readers
is essential to evaluating news worthiness, it was given only cursory
attention. All we saw was a string of events, voiceless, colorless.
Everything was just a specimen that had to be studied for its news
worthiness more than how it affected the people involved. We were being
turned into an emotionless editing machine with nothing more in mind
than observing correct grammar and punctuation.<br />
<br />
It was only when I stopped going to school and went to work that I
realized all the things I missed. I had known all along what was
happening in our country. I had read every angle imaginable and heard
all sides of the story. I had even given my own logical interpretation
of the situation. <strong><em>But as a human being, I had forgotten the
most essential part: the ability to feel and to be affected by what
was happening. It was as if I had forgotten to be human.</em></strong><br />
<br />
I wondered if it was just me, but looking at the people around me, I know I wasn’t the only one.<br />
<br />
<i><strong>Schools trained their students to be the best in their fields
of choice. Journalism students where trained to be logical, to have a
nose for news. Nursing students were trained to know the correct
medical procedures. Future teachers were trained in the art of
teaching. Police officers were trained to enforce the law and maintain
peace and order. None of us were really taught why we should be doing
what we were supposed to do. We learned the basics, but not the heart
of our professions.</strong></i><br />
<br />
Ask any student why he took up a particular course, and you will hear
reasons as stale a pandesal that has been left on the table for two
days. Most of them will tell you it’s the one thing that would bring
that pandesal to the family table. Seldom will you hear about passion.
It would come as a surprise if someone said that it was what he always
wanted to do.<br />
<br />
<strong>Education is now about marketabilit</strong><i><strong>y and the possibility of
finding work, not about being passionate about what you do. It is not
about being the best that you can be, but choosing a career path that
will pad your bank account.</strong></i><br />
<br />
We call it being practical, but dehumanization would be a better
term. We hear the tick of the clock and think of the money we can earn
instead of the good that we can do. We work day and night with our
paychecks in mind instead of doing service to our fellow men.<br />
<br />
<i><strong>Ours is a world of balance sheets where every action is
measured by the pesos it brings rather than the happiness and sense of
fulfillment it gives a person. Yes, a fat paycheck can be fulfilling,
but is that all that matters? We can buy all the material things we
like, eat in the most expensive restaurants, travel around the world
when our workload permits, but then we will always go back to the kind
of routine where we can’t wait for the clock to tick five so that we
can go<span id="dtx-highlighting-item"> home </span>and rest and prepare for another day at work.</strong></i><br />
<br />
People will say you can try to love the work you do and put all the
passion you can summon into it. But passion is a burning desire to do
something you have always dreamed of. It’s not about settling for what
you have and making the best of it. That is a disgrace.<br />
<br />
There is one question we should answer honestly: Why are we doing
what we are doing? If we are there for the money, then we have taken our
hearts out of our work because we have no use for them.<br />
<br />
We have missed a lot because of our obsession with preparing for a
future that may never come. We have forgotten how to live each day as if
it were the last. We have forgotten that we have no hold on time and
everything we have can be gone in the blink of an eye. We know that
nothing lasts, yet we live from day to day as if everything is black or
white and a rainbow is nothing but a colorful picture.<br />
<br />
<strong>When we die, all that can be written on our epitaph is that
we did well in our work. No one will say that we lived like a human
being. We are nothing but stale pandesal.</strong><br />
<br />
<em><strong>Jayson Arvene T. Mondragon, 24, is a customer service representative at Convergys Philippines.</strong></em><br />
<br />
<em><strong>Youngblood PDI (12/05/11)</strong></em><br />
</div>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-20703445914296555032012-05-01T11:00:00.001-07:002012-05-01T11:00:47.574-07:00Pulitika. Pilipino. Pilipinas.<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Maraming mali sa desisyon at pamamalakad ng
gobyerno. Maraming pulitiko ang patuloy na umaabuso sa puwesto at
umuubos sa kakarampot<span> </span>na pondo ng bayang pinagkaitan ng
pagbabago. Maraming naka-barong na buwaya at mandarambong sa Batasan na
kailanman ay hindi mapaparusahan dahil sa lakas ng kanilang impluwesiya
at kapangyarihan. Sa kabila nito, maraming Pilipino ang patuloy na
nagbubulagbulagan at nagbibingi-bingihan sa tunay na kalagayan ng ating
lipunan. Sadya ngang napakahirap gisingin ng mga taong
nagtutulug-tulugan. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Ito ay isang katotohanan. Ito ay isang mapait
na realidad ng buhay sa isang bansang may kalayaan at soberanya ngunit
walang tunay, buo at matatag na demokrasya. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Sa isang gobyernong nagsusulong ng <em>RH Bill</em> ngunit walang sapat na <em>health center</em> at libreng gamot, mga nars na sa <em>call centers </em>bumabagsak<em>,</em> mga baryong sa albularyo umaasa dahil walang doktor, hindi matugunang problema sa <em>dengue</em>, tumataas na insidente ng <em>AIDS</em>, hindi tumatanggap sa pampublikong ospital ng mga walang pambayad, ano ang dapat nating asahan?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Sa isang gobyernong nagpapatupad ng <em>K+12 program</em> subalit walang sapat na bilang ng guro at pampasuweldo, mali-maling laman ng <em>textbooks</em>, binabahang silid-aralan, kapiranggot na <em>chalk <span> </span>allowance</em>, binawasang budget sa edukasyon, daan-daang <em>school buildings</em> na hindi na matibay laban sa lindol, ano ang dapat nating asahan?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Sa isang media na ginagawang bayani ang mga
pulitikong nandaya sa eleksyon; mga teleseryeng palagi na lang tungkol
sa mga inang nawalan ng anak, ninakaw na anak at pinagpalit na mga anak;
mga batang nagsasabunutan sa kung sino tunay na heredera; mga problema
ng kapitbahay at magpapamilya na dinadala sa telebisyon, magkakabati sa
harap ng kamera at pagkatapos ay tatanggap ng <em>talent fee, </em>batang pinagma-<em>macho dancing </em>ng tatay<em>, </em>ano ang dapat nating asahan?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Sa isang bansang ang korapsyon ay isang kultura, ang sining ay ginagamit pangkutya ng pananampalataya, ang <em>facebook</em> at <em>tweeter</em> ay pambansang adiksyon, ang pagtaas ng presyo ng langis ay mas mataas pa sa grado ng <em>performance</em>
ng pangulo, tone-toneladang metriko ng bigas ay nabubulok at iniinsekto
habang marami ang namamatay sa gutom, ano ang dapat nating asahan?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Sa isang bansang mas sikat pa si Lady Gaga
kaysa kay Jose Rizal, naglipana ang mga pulis na walang pinagkaiba sa
kriminal na kanilang tino-<em>torture</em>, naihahalal ang elitistang
kumakatawan sa mga dyanitor at gwardiya, nakakalabas ng bilangguan ang
mayayamang bilanggo, nagiging <em>icon</em> ng masa ang mga babaeng lumalabas sa <em>media</em>
para sabihing nahawaan sila ng STD ng kanilang kasintahan at bukas
makalawa may bago na namang lalaki sa buhay nila, ano ang dapat nating
asahan?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Sa isang bansang pinapatay ng <em>jejemon</em> at <em>bekimon </em>ang wikang pambansa, ino-<em>offer </em>ang<em> nursing </em>ng <em>IT schools, </em>ang pagiging<em> drug courier </em>ay ginagawang propesyon<em>,</em> <em><span> </span></em>binibigyan ngmilyong pabaon ang <em>AFP</em> <em>officials</em>, nanununtok ng sibilyan ang mga alkalde at kongresista, pabagu-bago ng desisyon ang Korte Suprema, ano ang dapat nating asahan?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Sa isang probinsiyang ang gobernador ay ang
tatay, ang bise-gobernador ay ang nanay, ang mayor ang anak na lalaki,
ang vice-mayor ang anak na babae, ang mga kongresista ay mga tiyuhin at
tiyahin, ang mga konsehal ay pinsan - sa mga angkang ito na ginawang
kabuhayan ang kinabukasan at pag-asa ng bayan, ano ang dapat nating
asahan?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Anong klaseng matuwid na daan ang ating
tatahakin kung ang mismong mga konkretong daan sa bawat mahihirap na
munisipalidad sa bansa ay hindi pa rin nagagawa? Nasaan ang liwanag ng
pag-asa gayong ilang libong baryo pa rin ang nabubuhay sa dilim?
Hanggang kailan magtitiis sa uhaw ang mga lupang tigang at tuyot na
lalamunan? Kailan uusad ang biyahe sa mga daang matrapik at konting
patak ng ulan ay nagiging karagatan?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Kung nakakapagsalita ang monumento ni Rizal,
ano kaya ang masasabi niya sa Luneta, ang kanyang tahanan, na ngayon ay
pinamumugaran ng mga palaboy? Sasang-ayon pa rin kaya si Ninoy na <em>Filipinos are worth dying for </em>kapag nalaman niyang isinusulong na maihimlay sa Libingan ng mga Bayani ang taong naging dahilan para makitil ang kanyang buhay?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Ayaw ng Simbahan sa <em>abortion</em> pero
talamak ang bentahan ng pampalaglag sa tabi ng mga Simbahan. Ayaw natin
sa diborsiyo samantalang maraming kababaihan ang biktima ng <em>domestic violence</em>.Palaging
nakikialam ang Simbahan sa mga polisiya ng gobyerno pero tumatanggap ng
magagarbong sasakyan bilang regalo ang ilang nitong miyembro.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Malaki ang naging dagok sa ating mga buhay
matapos ang pananalanta ni Ondoy at Sendong ngunit hanggang ngayon ay
kinukunsinti pa rin ng gobyerno ang <em>large-scale mining</em>. Ano na ang nangyari sa Clean Air Act at Solid Waste Management Act? Tila dumadalas ang insidente ng <em>fish kill </em>subalitkumakaunti ang <em>sightings</em> ng mga butanding.Pati mga walang muwang na <em>tuko </em>ginagawang
hanapbuhay. Pati nananahimik na buwaya kinukuha sa natural na lungga
niya. Kasalanan ba niya kung ang teritoryo niya ay pamahayan ng iba?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Sa sobrang hirap ng buhay, maraming Pilipino ang umaasa na lang sa mga <em>noontime show at </em>pagbebenta ng kidney<em>. </em>At sapanahon ngayon, kahit sa loob ka pa ng <em>mall</em>
wala ng seguridad, saanman may barilan ng mga magkasintahang hindi
nagkakasundo. Bukas makalawa, tataas na naman ang presyo ng gasolina,
toll fee, pamasahe sa LRT at MRT, tuition, presyo ng bigas at iba pang
bilihin. May mabibitay na naman sa ibang bansa. May makakalaya
pagkatapos ng ilang dekadang pagkakabilanggo. May magpa-<em>planking</em> na naman sa kalsada para manawagan sa gobyernong panay nagmamalaki na maraming nadadalang <em>investment </em>sa Pilipinas subalit lumulobo ang mga walang trabaho at <em>underemployed. </em>Higit sa lahat, may mali-<em>link </em>na namang babae sa ating Pangulo.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Ang <em>Magna Carta of Students, Anti-Political Dynasty Bill</em> at <em>Freedom of Information Bill</em>
ay aamagin at aanayin na lamang sa apat na sulok ng Kongreso. Sa mga
susunod na panahon, sa pagmulat ng ating mga mata hindi na bahagi ng
Pilipinas ang Mindanao. Hindi matatapos ang giyera sa Lupang Pangako
sapagkat hindi mga militante ang tunay na kalaban kundi ang kahirapan. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Milyong Pilipino ang salat sa edukasyon. Tila sinasadyang gawing mang-mang ang ating mga kababayan, lalo na ang <em>indigenous people</em>,
para madaling maimpluwesiyahan tuwing eleksyon. Isang kilong bigas lang
ang katapat ng mga sikmurang salat sa laman at sustansiya. Ayaw alisin
ang mga iskwater sa lungsod. Hindi dahil sa walang malilipatan. Hindi
dahil sa walang pondo. Sayang kasi ang dagdag nilang boto.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Hindi malayong isang boksingero ang ating
maging pangulo. Sino ang makapagsasabi? Kung yon ngang pinatalsik sa
puwesto, muling kumandidato, pumangalawa pa sa dami ng boto. Ang mga
artista sumasabak sa pulitika kapag alam na nalalaos na. Sa pulitikang
mayroon tayo, lahat posible. Lalo pa at may Hello Garci. Kapag pinatawag
ka sa Senado, sampu ng iyong angkan, walang dapat ikatakot, puwede
namang magsakit-sakitan at mangibang-bayan para sa diumanoy kalusugan.
Magandang istratehiya din na pagkababa sa puwesto ay kumandidato sa
Kongreso para may <em>immunity </em>laban sa tone-toneladang kaso. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Sa araw ng eleksyon, muling tatakbo ang mga pulitikong nandaya, bumaba sa puwesto at ginawang bayani ng <em>media</em>. May maninindigan na naman na siya ay hindi tiwali subalit kapag nasulong ang <em>impeachment</em> <em>case </em>biglang
bababa sa puwesto at magkukubli. May magpapatiwakal dahil sa tawag ng
konsensiya. At sa mga susunod na SONA wang-wang na naman ang ibibida.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span>Sa mga susunod na taon, may mga bagong pakulo, eksena, isyu, anomalya, eskandalo at ingay ang ibabalita ng <em>media </em>at
pag-uusapan sa mga barberya. Gaya ng Senado na palaging may ginigisang
mga pulitiko ngunit walang napaparusahan, ang mga ingay na ito ay
mamamatay lang din. Mababaon sa limot. May mga bagong pangyayaring
lulutang para takpan ang kasalukuyang pinag-uusapan. Subalit ang tunay
na ugat ng suliranin ay hindi masosolusyunan. </span></div>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-43258390686234018992012-05-01T10:57:00.001-07:002012-05-01T10:57:34.071-07:00MRT diaryYou can meet a lot of people in public markets, but you can be too
preoccupied to even notice them. You might encounter a number of
strangers in a jampacked bus, but you can barely see their faces. You
can be seated inside a jeepney with more than a dozen other people, but
the noise, heat, and pollution are a big distraction. It is only in the
MRT that you can read people’s faces and know their stories.<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
I saw you on a Monday. You were dressed just like me and the many
other commuters patiently waiting for the next train to arrive. I was in
my usual office dress. You were in a high-waist, semi-formal, black
skirt paired with a white blouse and stilettos. You were about to put on
a blush when the train arrived, unloading a bunch of people pushing
each other out and running toward the escalators as fast as they could.<br />
<br />
You looked cool to me, until you cursed out loud after a man in his
40s wearing a T-shirt and jeans accidentally bumped you on his way out.
You were blocking the train’s door. You were rushing in while people
were still alighting, and then you cursed. You were a young
professional, an educated lady in my eyes at first, until I heard you
cursing.<br />
<br />
We got on the train, and luckily found seats.<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
I saw you on a Tuesday. You were the only man seated in that part of
the train. I remembered how my Tang (that was how I called my
grandfather) looked when he was still alive, and he looked like you:
tall, wrinkled, gray haired. A fond smile crept into my face as memories
of Tang flashed in my mind.<br />
<br />
Then people came in and out, rushing as soon as the train’s door
opened at the station. I was amazed that you stood up to give your seat
to a woman with a child. You were elderly but still managed to be a
gentleman. Or so I thought.<br />
<br />
I was about to salute you for what you did, but then I saw you
peeking at a young lady’s breast with a smirk on your face. Peeking
might have been tolerable, but then you started rubbing your privates
against her behind.<br />
<br />
You are not like my grandfather after all. You are not even close to being a gentleman.<br />
The lady alighted in the next station.<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
I saw you on a Wednesday. You were not like any of us seated in the
forward coach. Your hair was way shorter, your moves way manlier than a
man’s. You were not lucky enough to find a seat.<br />
<br />
Then the guard started inspecting inside the train. He gave you a
second, a third, and a fourth look. Finally he told you that that part
of the train was just for women, children and the elderly.<br />
<br />
You said, “Excuse me,” with the softest female voice, held your chin
up, pulled your stomach in and thrust your chest forward. And the guard
left, embarrassed.<br />
<br />
I found it funny how you could instantly put your feminine side on
display inside the train and how hard you tried to mask it again when
you got off.<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
I saw you on a Thursday. You were carrying your baby. It seemed like
you had not eaten for days. Your hair was messy. Your clothes were torn
in parts. Your baby was crying out loud.<br />
<br />
I offered you my seat so that you would be more comfortable, but you refused to take it. I wondered why.<br />
Then I saw you approaching every passenger there, begging for money
as the baby cried out louder and louder each time. Some passengers
looked away. Others gave you a coin or two. Still others became
irritated when you poked them repeatedly to ask for alms.<br />
<br />
Your strategy puzzled me. You paid for the fare when you could have
used the money to buy food. You used your child to elicit sympathy
although you could have gone begging alone.<br />
I gave you a coin.<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
I saw you on a Friday. You were among the blank faces inside the
train. Your maternity dress suited you well. You were going to be a
pretty mom, I thought.<br />
<br />
Then you started rubbing your tummy slowly. As you touched it
downwards, I was amazed by its size and shape. The wonders of being a
woman, of being a mother, flashed in front of me. You must be excited
and happy, I said to myself.<br />
<br />
Then I saw tears rolling down your cheeks. All of a sudden, you were crying.<br />
A little boy gave you his hanky.<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
I saw you on a Saturday.<br />
You were fully made up and wearing a lacy sleeveless top, short
shorts and red shoes. Your hair was curled and styled. You were chatting
with someone on your iPhone. You were the only one talking so loud
inside the train. You were the only one laughing so hard. Everyone else
was either sleepy or staring blankly somewhere.<br />
<br />
We all alighted at the last stop, and you were still talking with
someone. When we reached the exit, you were in panic. You couldn’t find
your ticket—and your wallet. Between your laughter and noisy chit-chat,
someone must have found the opportunity to divest you of your purse.<br />
We passed by you as you began to cry.<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
I wish someone will see me and try to know me, too. But I am not riding a train on a Sunday.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>Ma. Erika Oliveanne P. Castillejo, 21, is a marketing communications specialist at Emerson Electric Asia Ltd. ROHQ.</em></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><em>PDI Youngblood 11/19/11</em></strong>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-23494032139923608652012-05-01T10:55:00.001-07:002012-05-01T10:55:41.191-07:00Second bestIs it everyone’s dream to be No. 1?<br />
<br />
Honestly, I don’t know.<br />
<br />
All my life I can remember only three instances when I landed on the
first spot. The first came during grade school when I bested the whole
class in our spelling contest. It was not a big event, just a class
exercise, but I really felt proud of my accomplishment. I got the right
spelling of the word “school.”<br />
<br />
The second time I landed on top was when I took my high school
entrance exam. I got the highest passing score. Or so I assumed, because
my name was listed first among those who were admitted, an
impossibility if the listing was done alphabetically since my last name
begins with the letter “Q”.<br />
<br />
In college, I scored a beautiful win as the 2nd year representative. I
was our batch’s voice. Although I was not No. 1 when it came to
academics, I was the sophomores’ representative, and that made me No. 1.<br />
<br />
Those three instances are the only times I ended up on top. I always
seem to come in second. I will always remember that I graduated
salutatorian in elementary, bagged second place in Division School’s
Press Conference (Editorial Writing-Filipino) during my sophomore year
in high school, and landed second in the Regional School’s Press
Conference (Editorial Writing-Filipino) during my senior year.<br />
<br />
I can say that I did well in college. But two significant events
serve to confirm my consistency in being second best. During our senior
year, I ran for the presidency of our course organization. I had
promised my siblings that I would go for that position when I was
elected as the batch representative as a sophomore. But then I had taken
myself out of campus politics to concentrate on academics in my third
year and so I was not well known among the lower classes. I lost—and I
got appointed executive vice president, the second highest position in
the organization.<br />
<br />
By studying really hard and with lots of prayers, I graduated cum
laude. I knew that I was not the brightest student in our class and I
didn’t expect to get the highest average, or even the second highest.
But I thought that at least I would be the No. 1 cum laude among the
residents in our dorm. I wasn’t. I thought that maybe I was the best on
our floor, but it turned out that the No. 1 cum laude lived on the same
floor. So again, I was second best.<br />
<br />
I have always been conscious about my consistency in coming in
second, but this was never a big issue for me. In fact, the thought of
it makes me smile. And the reason I am writing about it is that I want
to share the sweetness of the experience and why I am at peace.<br />
<br />
<em><strong>Being second best doesn’t mean that I am not good enough,
because I only compete with one person: myself. I don’t look around to
see what others are doing, and doing everything to outshine anybody.
My only concern is to shine. Period. I make sure that I do everything
that will give me a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day, and
whether I end up No. 1 or No. 2 or not even placing at all doesn’t
really matter. What matters is that I did my best, and if it’s not good
enough to put me on top, so be it. I won’t waste my time fretting and
being hard on myself. I don’t deserve that. As long as I don’t feel
like guiltily telling myself that I could have done better, I can sleep
soundly at night.</strong></em><br />
<br />
I have nothing against people who want to be on top of the game, the
best in their field, people who hate defeat. In fact, I admire them.
People like them always shine brightest in the world of entertainment,
always end up among the most successful people on earth, and turn out to
be the greatest leaders.<br />
I love Naruto. Naruto fans know how aggressive he is, how much he
wants to win every battle, how he does everything to get what he wants. I
admire him. And yes, a part of me wishes that I could be just like
him. But I am not.<br />
<br />
The truth is, not everyone can be No. 1. Not everyone can be the
greatest. Not everyone can be the leader. Just like not everyone can be a
Hokage (the leaders of Konoha, the most prominent village in Naruto). <strong><em>
But everyone can be the best person he can be, if he wants to. If only
he would compete with himself alone. If only he would not care to
outshine anyone else but himself.</em></strong><br />
<br />
Trying to always be the best, the greatest, the No. 1 can be
frustrating, because there will always be someone better and greater
than us.<br />
<br />
<em><strong>I may never be No. 1 or the greatest in my field, but I
can be the best person I can be. And I will not stop learning and I
will forever enjoy competing with my toughest opponent: myself. And
since I only compete with myself, that green-eyed monster called
jealousy will find no place in my heart.</strong></em><br />
<br />
If there is Someone whom I want to please, Someone who serves as my
greatest inspiration in everything that I do, it is God. I believe every
failure, every second spot He gives to me is a simple reminder for me
to practice humility and it inspires me to learn more, to become
better. In being second best and even in failure I find peace.<br />
<br />
I have always believed that my life is a gift from God, and whatever I
do with my life will also be my gift to Him. And so I am giving Him a
gift He truly deserves: not necessarily a life at the top but a life
lived well.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>Irhine A. Quintana, 23, works as a segment producer in Net25.</em></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><em>PDI Youngblood 7/30/11</em></strong>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-7598783705393707292012-05-01T10:53:00.001-07:002012-05-01T10:53:21.994-07:00Kaya po kami nagjijeep kasi mahirap lang kami, utang na loob sa mga nanlilimos.<div class="body hasMarkup">
Ngayong season tiba-tiba ang mga nanlilimos.<br />
<br />
Sa jeep na sinakyan ko, tatlo ang umangkas na bata at
nanlimos/namasko. Hindi naman sa pagdadamot pero matagal ko ng iniisip
‘to lalo na sa mga sumasampa sa jeep at bus na mga emisaryo kuno ng
ganto at ganyang foundation ng mga homeless, poor, sick at lahat ng
kabiguan sa buhay, why don’t these people go to DSWD, PCSO at sa mga
mayayamang korporasyon. Bakit hindi sila manlimos o mangaroling sa
villages, subdivisions at commercial areas hindi yong sa public utility
vehicles na ang mga sakay ay hikaos din sa buhay.<br />
<br />
Kung totoong nag-eexist at legitimate ang kanilang mga foundation eh
di magsolicit sila sa mga tao, institusyon at enterprises na may
kakayahang punan ang kanilang mga pangangailangan nang one time big
time. Kesa naman sa barya-barya nilang kinikita sa jeep. Kahit buong
taon pa sila mamalimos hindi nila mapapakain at mapag-aaral ang kanilang
beneficiaries as what they are claiming.<br />
<br />
Nakakabwiset yong ginagamit pa yong Diyos sa hanapbuhay. One time
tinawagan ko yong cell number na nandun sa papel. Out-of-service.
Tang-ina. Yong sa mga bata naman pag pagkain ang ibigay mo ihahagis pa
sa ‘yo pag nakababa na. Tsk tsk tsk.<br />
<br />
Sa may bus ang dami ko ng naranasang ganyang modus. Isang araw may
aakyat, namatay daw ang kasamahan nila sa pagsaside car, wala daw
pampalibing. Bigay ang mga tao. Deadma ako. Next day, may aakyat na
naman, namatay daw ang tatay niya, walang pampalibing. Deadma na naman
ako. Same place na inakyatan. Same person. Next day ganun na naman.
Kamag-anak na naman. Same person na naman. Matandain pa naman ako sa
ichura ng tao.<br />
<br />
Yong nagbebenta ng dried mangos sa bus. Pampa-enrol lang daw. Kung
hindi bibili pwede raw ba magdonate na lang. One time nakaharap ng
katapat si Kuya. Maurirat na pasahero. Tanong tanong. Saan ka mag-aaral.
Ano kukunin mong kurso. Next year siguraduhin mong mag-aaral ka na ha.
Sa loob-loob ko, kuya antagal na yang nagbebenta ng mangga hindi pa rin
nakaka-enrol, nakatapos na ko’t lahat ng high school at college, anjan
pa din siya.<br />
<br />
Sa bus kahapon, si ateng maganda namasko. May xmas design kasi ang
sobre niya. Ka-age ko lang. Nagpray-over. Naway pagpalain po kayo ng
Poong maykapal blah blah blah. Hindi ako nakikinig sa sinasabi niya
aside sa nakaheadset ako. Plastik eh. Ayokong mapa-away kasi madalas
akong napapa-away sa ganyan lalo na sa mga batang umaakyat sa jeep.
Nag-li-low na lang ako ngayon kasi mga nandudura kapag sinermunan mo.<br />
<br />
Ang ipinagtataka ko lang, tuwing pasko lang naglalabasan yang mga
volunteer na yan. So pag hindi ber months okay ang finances
nila?Kalurks.<br />
<br />
It is never wrong to give, but how long will these people cling to
such kind of livelihood. Minsan ikaw na yong mahihiya sa pinaggagagawa
nila.</div>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-63435753921510515022012-05-01T10:51:00.001-07:002012-05-01T10:51:07.772-07:00Mr. ImperfectOne day I hope to meet an imperfect man who will seem perfect to me from time to time.<br />
<br />
He will not be the best I have ever met, but he will be great when I
need him to be. He will hold my hand when we cross the street and make
sure I stay on the safe side of the road. He will kiss me goodnight
before I <a class="kLink" href="http://opinion.inquirer.net/17713/mr-imperfect#" id="KonaLink0" target="_blank"><span class="kLink">go </span><span class="kLink">to </span><span class="kLink">sleep</span></a>,
and he will kiss me torridly when I don’t want to sleep. He will wake
me up with a pat on my leg and once in a while surprise me with
breakfast in bed. He will argue with me, taunt me, frustrate me, but he
will also let me win without having to tell me.<br />
<br />
He will cradle me when I need to be babied, respect me when I need to
feel big, and scold me when I make a big mistake. He will sing to me
when quiet makes me lonely, and remain quiet when noise makes me mad. He
will not always read me correctly, but he will always make his best
guess. His timing will often be off when calculating my moods, but when
he does find that perfect moment, he will make it one that I will never
forget.<br />
<br />
He will touch me when my heart is cold and cool me down when my head
is hot. He will see through my Tupperware expressions and detect my
tears before they fall. He will understand many things I am saying with
my eyes, but sometimes he will pretend he doesn’t see them at all. He
will hurt me time and again, but he will ask to be forgiven just as
often. He will lose his temper because he is human, but he will always
strive to become a better man.<br />
<br />
He will falter and fall and make mistakes, but he will also rise
above himself. He will hold open a door for me, although sometimes he
will forget. He will order me around, but will bow when I resist. He
will take me to a bar, dance with me, go wild with me, but he will also
escort me to the theater to watch a play he never really wanted to see.<br />
<br />
He will go shopping with me, but he will roll his eyes only when I am
inside the fitting room, not when I can see him. He will stand by me
at the cosmetics corner, and pretend he’s not bothered by the shade of
purple I am trying on. He will laugh at me, not just with me, to remind
me not to take myself too seriously.<br />
He will tell me the whole truth when I am ready for it, but he will
be ready with his half-truths when that’s what I should hear. He will
make me realize that I need him, but only up to half as much as he needs
me. He will make me admit that I want him, but only after he professes
how he feels about me. He will bring out the best and the worst in me,
but he will stick with me always.<br />
<br />
One day I will meet an imperfect man. He will love me, and I will love him wholeheartedly.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>Georgina Angsanto, 26, writes ads for a living but is really a full-time aunt and “yaya.”</em></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><em>PDI Youngblood 11/22/11</em></strong>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-54257996010458373922012-05-01T10:48:00.001-07:002012-05-01T10:48:53.271-07:00RechargedI was born into a family that leaves unspoken some meaningful words
like “Thank you,” “I love you” and even “Happy birthday!” Our father, a
strict disciplinarian, probably had much to do with it. We have
distanced ourselves from everything sweet, mushy and cuddly. But still
our home is filled with the familiar noise of a typical middle-class
Filipino family, where the mother has to shout her every complaint to a
chaotic household and the entire neighborhood hears it.<br />
<br />
While growing up I wondered if all households were like ours. I
suspected that it wasn’t the case. I did not have to wait too long to
find out. At the age of 12, I left our house to study in a high school
located in a rural area three towns away from our own quiet little town
in Laguna. From then on my horizons expanded.<br />
I saw parents who still kissed their teenagers as they brought them
to school and teenagers who disrespectfully answered their parents
(probably because of overactive hormones). I got to see big, empty
houses that were perfect venues for group work and hanging out with the
barkada, as well as families that were just like ours: closely knit yet
distant in their own unique ways.<br />
<br />
From my first week in high school, I only got to go home every
weekend. This continued until I studied in a university two towns away
from home. Summers, Christmases and other long vacations were the only
times I spent at home for more than three days, yet even these were
often cut short by extra school work, extra-curricular activities, extra
work for extra money, or some social activities.<br />
<br />
As my horizons grew wider, so did the distance between me and our
home. After graduation, I found work in a company based in Alabang, but
my job also involved traveling to parts of Northern Luzon and Mindanao
as well as Singapore. But I was staying at home at last—at least on
most workdays from 8 p.m. to 6 a.m. and on Sundays, of course.
Saturdays were reserved for my social activities in the university, my
second home. By then I thought of our home in Cabuyao merely as a place
where I could sleep, take a bath, eat, change clothes, watch TV and
see my family.<br />
<br />
After working for seven months with the company, I was assigned in
Singapore for five months. Then I got assigned in Isabela, which meant
being separated from home by 10 to 12 hours of land travel, and I got to
go home just once or twice a month.<br />
<br />
After working for about two years in Isabela, I was moved to
Mindanao, several islands away from home. Now I get to go home only once
every two to three months.<br />
<br />
I do not intend to complain about the places where my work has
brought me or about how I have always been away from home. It was a
choice that I made—every bit of being far away. And it has always been a
choice that my family agreed with, in spoken words or silently,
because the opportunities are out there and I need to follow where they
are.<br />
<br />
<em><strong>But there comes a point in one’s life, when you can’t
quite figure out what is happening to you and where you want to go.
There comes a point where you feel the need to stop, sensing that
something needs to catch up with your fast-paced life</strong></em>. You try to sleep through the weekend, <a class="kLink" href="http://opinion.inquirer.net/19027/recharged#" id="KonaLink0" target="_blank"><span class="kLink">waking </span><span class="kLink">up</span></a>
at 11 a.m. only to eat brunch and then sleep again. You try to party
and dance and drink till dawn, or get together with friends over a cup
of expensive coffee, thinking all you need is a bit of socializing and
some wild fun. In the end, you realize with some surprise that all you
need is a dose of that drug called home.<br />
This was what I discovered after being away for three months and
finally getting to sleep in my bed in Laguna for eight hours, before
hitting the road again and flying back to Mindanao. During that one
night and one day that I was back home, I felt stronger and optimistic
once again. I was able to go away the next day feeling invincible,
feeling ready to face whatever the world would throw at me. I felt like I
could do whatever I wanted to do or fall while trying, but stand up to
continue the quest.<br />
<br />
Perhaps, we are all like Harry Potter in this regard. Whatever evil
obstacles Lord Voldemort has put against us out there, we need only to
go home every now and then to restore our magical protection. The
difference is, unlike Harry Potter’s “home” in Privet Drive, the nurture
our homes provide don’t expire when we turn 17.<br />
<br />
<em><strong>In my life I have done a lot of running to and fro. But
at the end of those runs was home: an occasional text message from
Nanay asking, “Musta ka jan?” that I disregard more times than I can
remember; my father and my brothers, who are eagerly waiting for my
every return, even though they don’t put it in words. Home is my
ultimate charger, the one place I can return to whenever I am broken
and then walk away from, knowing that I am always welcome to come back
and recharge again.</strong></em><br />
<br />
<em><strong>At 23, I realize that a home can come in all shapes and
sizes, and it may have a close-knit family or an extremely broken one.
Regardless of it all, a home is still a home and no other place has
quite the same power to make you complete.</strong></em><br />
<br />
<em><strong>In a world where we get lost quite often and sometimes we
don’t know where we are or who we are, we can always find comfort in
the thought that just around the corner our homes wait. No matter how
far we have strayed, or how long it has been since we left, or even
when we are planning our grand escape because we think we have stayed
home for far too long, we know that our home is always ready to embrace
us and we want to embrace it back.</strong></em><br />
<br />
You know those times when you feel you can’t see the end of the
tunnel? Well, home can be the light you can transport yourself to
anytime. When everything goes crazy, you can always come home.<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong><em>Auraleen Harina, 23, works as a sales executive for a multinational agricultural company.</em></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><em>PDI Youngblood 12/12/11</em></strong>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-67204365014246313222012-05-01T10:43:00.001-07:002012-05-01T10:43:53.404-07:00Why Women Cry<span class="caption">A little boy asked his mother, “Why are you crying?” “Because I’m a woman,” she <span class="text_exposed_show">told him.<br /><br /> “I don’t understand,” he said. His Mom just hugged him and said, “And you never will.”<br /><br /> Later the little boy asked his father, “Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?”<br /><br /> “All women cry for no reason,” was all his dad could say.<br /><br /> The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.<br /><br /> Finally he put in a call to God. When God got on the phone, he asked, “God, why do women cry so easily?”<br /><br /> God said, “When I made the woman she had to be special.<br /><br /> I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world,<br /><br /> yet gentle enough to give comfort.<br /><br /> I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children.<br /><br />
I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else
gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue
without complaining.<br /><br /> I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt her very badly.<br /><br /> I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.<br /><br />
I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but
sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him
unfalteringly.<br /><br /> And finally, I gave her a tear to shed. This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed.”<br /><br />
“You see my son,” said God, “the beauty of a woman is not in the
clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her
hair.<br /><br /> The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart - the place where love resides.”</span></span><br />
<br />
<b><i><span class="caption"><span class="text_exposed_show">(reposted: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/myloveloveforever" target="_blank">http://www.facebook.com/myloveloveforever</a>)</span></span></i></b>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-5168030073065333842012-05-01T10:37:00.001-07:002012-05-01T10:37:57.575-07:00Ang Esensiya ng Maliliit na Bagay<h6 class="uiStreamMessage">
<i><span class="messageBody">I GREW UP IN THE 90s.<br /><br />
We are the last generation who learned to play in the street, we are
the first one who’ve played video games, and we’re the last ones to
record songs off the radio on cassettes and we are the pioneers of
Walkman and chat-rooms.<br /><br /> We learned how to program the VCR
before anyone else, play with Atari, Super Nintendo, & Genesis. We
also believed that the internet would be a f<span class="text_exposed_show">ree…… world.<br /><br />
We are the generation of the Bioman, Maskman, Dragonball Z, Yu Yu
Hakusho, Slam Dunk, Magic Knight Rayearth, Gundam, Neon Genesis
Evangelion, Kamen Rider Black, Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Ninja
Turtles, Transformers, and Shaider. Traveled in cars without seat belts
or airbags, lived without mobile phones.<br /><br /> We didn’t have +99
television stations (but we had 999 games in 1 for the Family Computer),
flat screens, surround sound, mp3, iPods, Facebook or Twitter but
nevertheless we had a GREAT TIME!</span></span></i></h6>
<span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">- - - -</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">Nababasa ko
palagi yan sa facebok. Maraming nagrerepost. Marami na rin akong
youngblood articles na nabasa having these kinds of sentiments. Kahapon
sa huling araw ng bar operations, nabanggit ko kela Elaine, habang
nagpapakasasa kami sa lechong handa ng kapatid ni Julienne, na ibang-iba
na ang panahon ngayon. Masyadong komplikado na ang mga bagay-bagay.
Sobrang dami ng lumalabas na gadgets, kalalabas lang ng ganitong model,
maluluma na agad. Ang mga tao sabik na sabik na makasunod sa uso. Bili
ganito, bili ganyan. Na para bang ang sukatan ng pagkatao ay kung gaano
ka-mahal at ka-latest ang iPod at iPad mo. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">Hindi ko
magets ang punto ng pag-iipon for an iphone or samsung galaxy tablet,
while depriving yourself of the many experiences na pwede mong magawa
using those thousand bucks. O ang pagkahumaling sa kape ng starbucks
samantalang mas masarap pa yong 3-in-1 kesa dun (napaka-ironic ko sa
part na to, hindi na po ako suki ng starbucks. Haha). Buying pirated
cd’s in Quiapo samantalang mas masarap tumili sa loob ng sinehan with
your friends than having a marathon in front of your laptop, alone. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">Hindi ko
alam kung nakakatuwa, nakakabilib o nakaka-inggit ba ang ganun?O kung
dapat ko bang pakialamanan ang ganung bagay samantalang pera naman nila
ang pinambibili. Pakialam ko ba. Kaso parang maraming naisasantabi ang
mga tao dahil sa modernong teknolohiya. Private schools are now using
tablets instead of books. Nagiging tamad na ang estudyante. At ang
mismong paaralan ang nagtuturo sa kanila nito. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">May mga
naglalibrary pa ba ngayon?Parang wala na gaano. Lahat kasi nasa internet
na. Isang click lang nandyan na agad. Hindi mo na mararanasan na
ma-amaze sa mga antigong libro sa library at sa masungit na librarian.
Hindi mo na mararamdam ang feeling na sa wakas pagkatapos mong mahilo sa
kapal ng alikabok nahanap mo rin ang hinahanap mo. Isang pakiramdam na
hindi mo naman mararanasan kakaclick ng mouse.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">Noong bata
pa ko, sobrang excited ako sa national bookstore. Sobra akong na-aamaze
sa rami ng librong nakapaligid sa kin. Nag-iipon ako para makabili ng
mga gusto kong libro. Para sa isang bata, struggle na yon. Ngayon,
karamihan sa mga libro nadadownload na. Even nga yong letters and cards.
Namimiss ko yong pakiramdam na sa birthday ko bibigyan ako ng mga
bestfriend ko ng cards. Ngayon, hanggang facebook na lang ang mga
greetings. Iba pa rin talaga ang epekto pag personal na sinulat at
personal na binigay at may kasama pang kiss at hugs. Kesa sa facebook,
na minsan happy birthday na nga lang gagawin pang HBD.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">Dahil
galing ako sa debut nung Saturday, napaisip na naman ako. Maraming babae
ngayon ang pinipera na lang instead of having a party. Tas yong pera
ipambibili lang pala ng kung anong gamit at gadget. Nakokornihan kasi sa
18 roses, 18 candles at 18 chuchus. Di ba nila naiisip minsan lang sila
magiging 18. Na ang isang gabi kasama ang mga mahal nila sa buhay at
mga kaibigan nila ay mas mahalaga pa kaysa sa pera o kotse na
hinihinging nilang kapalit. Lahat naman yon pwede nating mabili pag may
work na tayo. Eh yong memories and experiences na dapat sana baon-baon
natin hanggang pagtanda, wala na. Masyado kasing minamadali ang lahat.
Gusto sa ganitong age pa lang mayroon na dapat mga ganitong bagay at
accomplishments. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">Ewan. Sa
bilis ng panahon at mga pagbabago, pati buhay ng tao bumibilis na rin.
Naranasan kong gumawa at magpalipad ng saranggola. Ilang beses na rin
ako nahulog sa puno. I appreciate parks than malls. Naranasan ko na
maligo sa ilog, matulog sa dalampasigan while looking at the stars,
magluto sa pugon, manghuli at maglaro ng gagamba, sumabit sa traysikel,
magpastol ng kambing and a lot of weird experiences that for me were
extraordinary ones. I dunno. Yon ata ang kainaman ng taong naranasan
mabuhay both sa province at city. You get to meet both worlds.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">Ang mga
artista, mga anak nila, o kaya yong mga anak ng elitista, home study na
lang. Kawawang mga nilalang. Hindi man lang nila naranasan at
nararanasan ang maging tunay na estudyante. Yong mapahiya sa klase,
magcram sa project at thesis, mangopya, flunking an exam, mapingot ni
teacher, ma-guidance, js prom, excited kaka-antay kung may pasok ba o
wala dahil may bagyo. Poor people. </span></span><br />
<span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="messageBody"><span class="text_exposed_show">I think we
are missing the real essence of life and relationships. Natetake for
granted natin ang mga simpleng bagay, ang mga simpleng karanasan at ang
mga simpleng pakiramdam. Darating ang panahon, iba na ang persepsyon ng
tao sa totoong kahulugan ng kasiyahan. </span></span>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-1883454355832611642012-05-01T10:34:00.001-07:002012-05-01T10:34:59.378-07:00A LAWLESS LOVE: Para sa mga Law Students na Nagmahal, Nagmamahal at Magmamahal Pa Lang<div class="body hasMarkup">
<b><i>by Chun Li</i></b><br />
<br />
May jynx daw sa Law School.<br />
<br />
Karamihan daw, dahil sa nag-Law School ung isa, nauuwi sa break-up
ang relashon. Minsan nga, hindi pa nagsstart ang enrolment, nagbbreak
na kasi alam na nilang dalawa na hindi kakayanin. Meron din namang mga
tao na dahil lang sa nag-Law School ang chorva, nag-Law School din
(eto ung mga madalas na nauunang masipa sa Law School). At meron ding
kahit pareho nilang gusto talaga mag-Law School, after few months,
nagbreak din.<br />
<br />
Bakit ba ganun?? Ganon ba talaga ka-toxic sa Law School at hindi
kayang pagsabayin ang Law at Love?? Antagal ko ding pinag-isipan ‘to.
At may isa akong theory kung bakit.<br />
<br />
<em>Dura Lex Sed Lex</em>. (the Law may be harsh, but it is the Law)<br />
<br />
Eto na ata ang pinaka-popular na legal maxim of all. Eto ay isang
malaking malakas na sampal na ang ibig sabihin ay “wala ka ng magagawa
e! ganyan talaga.” Sa mga panahong hindi mala-fairy tale ang lovelife
ko, napaisip tuloy ako.. “pwede palang sabihing <em>in pari materia</em> ang Love at Law”. <em>Dura Love Sed Love</em>. – Love may be harsh, but it is Love. <br />
<br />
Dahil tulad ng mga superfluous na statute, MALABO din ang pag-ibig.
Ika nga sa Statcon, vague and ambiguous. Ang love na yata ang isa sa
mga pinakamahirap i-construe. Hindi ito madaling ipaliwanag dahil
susceptible sa various interpretations ang lahat. Lalo na kung praning
kang tulad ko. Dahil I’m sure, ang construction na magagawa mo ay
absurd, impossible at mischievous.<br />
<br />
Dahil ang love ay isang aggravating circumstance – it is an unlawful
entry. Hindi mo naman pinilit ‘tong maramdaman. Hindi mo ‘to pinili,
hindi ito pre-meditated.. Kusa na lang pumasok sa puso mo ito nang
walang paalam. Ni hindi mo alam na dadating sya, kaya wala ka ding
magagawa kung paalis na.<br />
<br />
Para din itong alternative circumstances – parang intoxication,
parang lack of sufficient instruction. Nakakalasing ang
umibig,.nakakatanga. Kaya minsan, hindi mo na alam kung nakakabuti pa
ba o nakakasama na. Minsan kahit contradicting na ang sinasabi nya sa
ginagawa nya, okay pa din. Ikaw na ang nag-aadjust. Pag sweet sya
magsalita, <em>verba legis</em>. Pag hindi mashado, iniisip mo na lang, “hindi, <em>ratio legis</em> naman”.<br />
<br />
Kung pwede lang sana mag-employ ng <em>alevosia</em> habang
nagmamahal, ginawa ko na. Para sana walang risk na masaktan, para sure
na hindi ako maaapektuhan, para siguradong hindi kita iiyakan. Kaya
lang alam ko namang hindi pwede yon. Minsan kahit ginagawa ko ng
self-imposed ang <em>destierro</em>, hindi ko naman mapanindigan. Andalas ng air time mo sa utak ko at hindi ko talaga maiwasan.<br />
<br />
Sa totoo lang, hindi naman na din ito ang unang beses na nagmahal
ako. Malamang nga, habitual delinquent na ko e. Kung tutuusin, dapat
patawan na ko ng <em>reclusion perpetua</em> para magtigil na ko. Kaya
lang, ayoko namang magpatalo sa uncontrollable fear. Dahil paulit
ulit man akong mabigo at masaktan, sobrang willing pa din akong
mag-risk ng paulit ulit ulit mahanap ka lang.<br />
<br />
Dahil wala naman akong ibang pinangarap sa buhay ko kundi ang
magkaron ng valid na kasal, ang magpundar ng madaming conjugal
properties, ang bumuo ng masayang family home, at ang mag-alaga ng mga
legitimate na anak. Sa madaling salita, ang nais ko lamang ay ang
habambuhay na magmahal at mahalin. At kasama sa mga pangarap kong
‘yon ay ang “atty.” sa unahan ng pangalan ko, at ang apelido mong
idudugtong ko sa dulo.<br />
<br />
Sa ngayon, mahirap lang cguro talagang pagsabayin ang dalawang
parehong komplikadong bagay. Lalo pa’t parehong malabo. Umaasa na
lang ako na mawawala din ang sumpa, at pagdating ng panahon, makakasama
ko na ang tunay na nakatakda.<br />
<br />
- - - - </div>
<div class="body hasMarkup">
<br />*sa mga lawyers/law students at sa lahat ng babasa.. please, wag
mashadong mag-over-analyze. legal terms were used for creative writing
purposes only. this is not a legal document. okay?? hihi<br />
**based on first year, first sem subjects only.<br />
***salamat sa’yo na naging dahilan kung bakit ako nakasulat ulet.
saktan mo ulet ako by the end of the sem ng maisakatuparan ko ang
Oblicon version ko</div>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-14589594627528836082012-05-01T10:31:00.005-07:002012-05-01T10:31:57.443-07:00I Hate My Mother<div class="body hasMarkup">
<span class="caption">My mom only had one eye. I hated her… She was such an embarrassment. She cooked <span class="text_exposed_show">for students and teachers to support the family.<br /><br /> There was this one day during elementary school where my mom came to say hello to me. I was so embarrassed.<br /><br />
How could she do this to me? I ignored her, threw her a hateful look
and ran out. The next day at school one of my classmates said, ‘EEEE,
your mom only has one eye!’<br /><br /> I wanted to bury myself. I also
wanted my mom to just disappear. I confronted her that day and said, ‘
If you’re only gonna make me a laughing stock, why don’t you just die?’<br /><br />
My mom did not respond… I didn’t even stop to think for a second about
what I had said, because I was full of anger. I was oblivious to her
feelings.<br /><br /> I wanted out of that house, and have nothing to do with her. So I studied real hard, got a chance to go abroad to study.<br /><br />
Then, I got married. I bought a house of my own. I had kids of my own. I
was happy with my life, my kids and the comforts. Then one day, my
Mother came to visit me. She hadn’t seen me in years and she didn’t even
meet her grandchildren.<br /><br /> When she stood by the door, my
children laughed at her, and I yelled at her for coming over uninvited. I
screamed at her, ‘How dare you come to my house and scare my
children!’ GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!!!’<br /><br /> And to this, my mother
quietly answered, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I may have gotten the wrong
address,’ and she disappeared out of sight.<br /><br /> One day, a letter
regarding a school reunion came to my house. So I lied to my wife that I
was going on a business trip. After the reunion, I went to the old
shack just out of curiosity.<br /><br /> My neighbors said that she died. I did not shed a single tear. They handed me a letter that she had wanted me to have.<br /><br /> ‘My dearest son,<br /><br /> I think of you all the time. I’m sorry that I came to your house and scared your children.<br /><br />
I was so glad when I heard you were coming for the reunion. But I may
not be able to even get out of bed to see you. I’m sorry that I was a
constant embarrassment to you when you were growing up.<br /><br /> You
see……..when you were very little, you got into an accident, and lost
your eye. As a mother, I couldn’t stand watching you having to grow up
with one eye. So I gave you mine.<br /><br /> I was so proud of my son who was seeing a whole new world for me, in my place, with that eye.<br /><br /> With all my love to you,<br /><br /> Your mother.</span></span><br />
<br />
<b><i><span class="caption"><span class="text_exposed_show"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/InspireYourLiving" target="_blank"><span>Source: (</span></a><a href="http://www.facebook.com/Inspir" target="_blank">http://www.facebook.com/Inspir</a></span><span class="word_break"></span>eYourLiving)</span></i></b></div>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2931216591729059027.post-1566028229169946372012-05-01T10:31:00.001-07:002012-05-01T10:31:13.977-07:00Lessons my father taught me<span>This is the second year I’m celebrating Father’s Day without my
father. I do not cry myself to sleep every night anymore but not a week
will pass without me still shedding tears. His death in January last
year will always leave a void in my heart. Many times, I consciously
fill this stinging emptiness with the many lessons he taught me. </span><br />
<br />
<span>My father was an ordinary man a farmer all his life. His burnt
skin was his badge of honor. The cracks under his feet were the
insignia of his dignity to raise a family. His rough hands were his
arsenals to provide food on the table for his loved ones. </span><br />
<br />
<span>He was not known to complain about the hardship he underwent
just so he could see his family through. Just like a superhero, he never
let us down. But unlike a superhero, he had no powers. He only had the
wisdom to do the right things in his simple ways. He could barely read
and write, having only finished Grade 2, but he surely had a PhD degree
in the School of Hard Knocks.<span> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span>My father and I never had a photograph together when I was
growing up. We never had a camera to begin with. Nobody had one in the
community where I grew up. There was a resident photographer for hire in
the nearby village but economic circumstances deterred us from getting
his services. In my heart, however, I freeze photographs of us together
so beautiful and warm are these memories that to this day I still
remember how, I was perhaps four years old then, he asked me to jump
from a raised table down to his arms. He would raise my chubby body up,
then throw me in mid-air. He never missed to catch me. He never did my
whole life. </span><br />
<br />
<span>But not everything was fine and dandy between us. We ventured
into some sort of a silent war when, in the prime of my teenaged years, I
did not hide from him my being gay. He was up in arms. But our love for
each other brought us back together. The walls between us soon
collapsed. He accepted me for who I was and embraced me for how I wanted
to live my life. Thanks to tough love. We became inseparable since
then. He took up many battles for me. His welfare became my source of
inspiration to better myself, to better my craft. I promised myself to
give him a better life. Somehow, with the grace from The Guy Up There, I
did. I worked hard a trait he showed me by example to spoil him. More
than that, I spoiled him with love. </span><br />
<br />
<span>He never asked for anything from me. But I always anticipated
his needs. I never waited for him to ask me for something. He gave me
everything he had when I was small. My eagerness to indulge him of his
needs was so small a token as compared to the many joys he brought me
when he would go home from the rice field with his hands full of sweet </span><em><span>aratilis</span></em><span> and the pockets of his smudged gabardine trousers bursting with ripe </span><em><span>duhat</span></em><span>, which we would shake in a plastic container with salt. Early on, I already knew what it meant to appreciate simple happiness. </span><br />
<br />
<span>My father taught me to be innovative. I never had a toy when I
was a kid. Except for a top my father fashioned from a dried ipil-ipil
branch. I still see the top twirling in my mind, spinning endlessly in
the circle inside my heart. </span><br />
<br />
<span>In those days when it was easier for others to buy a ready-made </span><em><span>parol</span></em><span> (lantern), my father taught me how to make a sturdy one out of bamboo sticks. We just had to spend a little for </span><em><span>papel de hapon</span></em><span>
to dress up the wooden lantern. Some houses in the neighborhood were
teeming with Christmas lights. Our home was decorated with a lone </span><em><span>parol</span></em><span> hanged proudly in the makeshift awning of our old house. </span><br />
<br />
<span>The </span><em><span>itak</span></em><span> (bolo knife) my father used to make the </span><em><span>parols</span></em><span> of my childhood is still intact and oiled to keep it away from the rust. Yes, my father taught everyone in our house to be </span><em><span>masinop</span></em><span>. In the store room of our humble home can be found my father’s axe, screwdrivers, </span><em><span>gusi</span></em><span> (a medium sized earthen jar for salt) and other trinkets, which had been in his possession since he was a teenager. The </span><em><span>araro</span></em><span> (plough) he used for farming is now a decorative piece in our garden. </span><br />
<br />
<span>Poverty taught my father not to be </span><em><span>diferencioso</span></em><span> (difficult). Life was difficult enough, he didn’t want to complicate it. “</span><em><span>Kung maliit na bagay lamang naman ang pagsisimulan ng gulo, palampasin mo na</span></em><span> (Let small things pass if they will just cause you trouble later on),” he reminded me many times. </span><br />
<br />
<span>Despite the hardship our family experienced in the past, my father’s first cardinal rule in the house was “</span><em><span>Huwag na huwag kayong magnanakaw</span></em><span>
(Never ever steal).” That act, he said, betrays trust. He taught me
that it is important that people trust me in whatever I do. </span><br />
<br />
<span>In the subject of forgiveness, I learned a lot from my father. I
have a forgiving heart because my father did not believe in keeping
grudges. To this day, I get sick if I keep grudges against others for
more than 24 hours. My father taught me to have an understanding heart;
that I need to be kind even if others are not. </span><br />
<span>I will always, always thank my father for teaching me to have a
grateful heart. Because of this, I now get to lovingly fill the void of
not being able to celebrate life with him every day, every night.</span><br />
<br />
<b><i><em><strong>By Bum D. Tenorio Jr</strong></em></i></b><br />
<br />
<b><i>(The Philippine Star) June 19, 2011</i></b>Noliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06510410671637916415noreply@blogger.com0