“You’ve got to get up every morning with determination if you’re going to go to bed with satisfaction.” -George Lorimer

Why do I keep waking up at 4:00 in the morning to do a 5km fun run or a 40km fun ride on my bike? No, I don’t enjoy struggling to shake off that drowsy feeling on a weekend morning when I know I should be sleeping in. Knowing how I will punish myself again with physical pain I find myself asking the same question over and over, “Car, why do you this?”

Last Friday (May 1, Labor Day) I woke up with a sore throat and fever I wasn’t excited to ride my bike. I wanted to back out but backing out wasn’t an option. My running coach said to me once, “Pain is all in the mind.” I forced myself to get up, eat breakfast and after taking 2000mg of vitamin C and paracetamol I left our house with very low energy.

I survived the ordeal of biking for almost 1 hour covering a stretch of 40km. Maybe it’s the effect of the medicine, or perhaps it’s sheer willpower. In my mind I kept pushing myself to keep going and going. I’m just thankful I didn’t collapse or had an asthma attack. I was exhausted yet, happy. But as soon as I got home I went straight to my room and crashed into my bed.

So why do I do these things? Why do I bike and run? I have one simple answer: I feel good about myself. When I am able to beat my personal record it feels great. When I survive a gruelling ride of uphill and winding roads it’s exhilarating because I was able to commune with nature. I feel good when I actually try out something new and not just wishfully think about it.

I believe that physical pain is nothing next to pain of regret. I would rather listen to my joints and muscles cry out in soreness, than my soul being haunted by what ifs.

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“… and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” -Hebrews 12:1 (NIV)

Being a Christian is not easy. I have my own share of ‘modern-day persecutions’. I have been labeled as being too serious and too straight by some. My personality has been judged as well because I don’t subscribe to other people’s idea of fun.

It takes a lot of courage to even admit out in the open I believe and pray to God. But I know I shouldn’t feel any shame. What’s really difficult is trying not to give in to daily temptations such as gossiping, whining or having a good laugh at the expense of making fun of people. It is not easy to overlook an offense and be forgiving, to be patient and not to say bad things about other people.

This is the real race I have chosen to run. To keep moving forward in my faith living out my identity as a child of God first and foremost. All other worldly titles are secondary. As God continues to mold me with His forgiving hands I know He is always there to cheer me on. For some people they will never appreciate nor fully understand what this whole ‘faith thing’ is all about. And if that is the reason for people to see or treat me differently then so be it . I’m willing to cut some ties. But life without God is empty. So I’d rather keep Him.  Starting out a journey with Him is an exciting experience it’s almost like starting a race. But it’s how we finish it is what matters most. I may have been sidetracked many times by fleeting pleasures. But I’m thankful for His grace and mercy I can always get back on track. And as I persevere to focus my eyes on the road my goal is to cross that finish line.

I’m 38 years old and single. Never been married, no kids. I have been in relationships, all serious so yes, I have loved and been loved. I have received a marriage proposal several years ago but I decided to back out. I have never regretted that decision. Not even a second.

So why am I still single and unattached? Here are my reasons:

Because I am not looking for a boyfriend or in the meantime partner.

Because I don’t believe (anymore) in disposable relationships.

Because I can wait. I know my man is worth the wait. And I know my worth as well.

I know what I’m looking for and I’m not about to bend my standards so I can fit a man into my mold. After all you cannot change a person. If I get married I will stick to it forever and ever because I believe so much in the sanctity of marriage. I do not support separation or divorce laws. I will be in a relationship because I can submit myself to his character and principles. I would like to be in a relationship where we can complement each other, not control the other.

I want to be pursued by a man who has a plan and knows his purpose in life. A man who is steady when it comes to his emotions. A man who will not be threatened by my achievements and talents. A man who can lead both of us spiritually and not just financially. A man who is undaunted when it comes to commitment.

Obviously I am not the typical Filipina who, at my age, should be married with at least 3 kids. I would always get a reaction from people and they ask the same thing: “Why?” I have come to terms with it that I actually enjoy their curiosity. It becomes a testimony and an inspiration, rather than a disability.

In the meantime I shall hustle while I wait. Continue to happily pursue my passions and interests. Being single is not a curse. So why should I brood about not having a boyfriend or husband? This is an exciting time to explore the world! If it turns out I am meant for single blessedness at least I can always look back and smile because I know I have lived my life to the fullest.

Tardiness is not something you can do on your own. Many things contributed to my tardiness. I would like to thank my parents who can never afford a car that I can use to go to work; Metro Manila where traffic is notorious; the shuttle drivers who always get caught by LTO; and last but not least, my granny who spend hours making my breakfast. Kidding aside…

“I don’t care what time you come in, as long as it is before 7 a.m. And I don’t care what time you go home, as long as it is after 7 p.m.” – this line from Mr. Ford is similar from what I heard last week and it gave me the urge to prove that I can be on time.

Tardiness at work is something I don’t deny, but I’m not proud of. It hurts me on the job and it leads to negative consequences, which often discourage me. I want to find something that will motivate me to change my perpetual lateness, definitely not by money but maybe for professional growth.

By reorganizing my life, I know and I am certain, I can change and learn to be on time. Here are some tips I have read and gathered for myself so I can make it to work on time.

First, change my mind-set. I have to be at work at 9:00am but I will change it to 8:30am as my clock-in time. I have to keep that in mind, aim for that, and if I achieve it, that’s extra time for me to run to McDonalds, answer personal emails, or watch smugly as others arrive after me.

Second, accountability. My job really does ride with my ability to be on time. Others may think of me as irresponsible, unreliable, uncaring and disrespectful. I owe it to myself to make sure I am on time. I will remember this when I get up each morning may be the motivation I need to time-manage.

Lastly, think of others. When I’m late, others have to cover for me. They may grow resentful because they can manage to be on time, why can’t I? I want to keep a harmonious relationship with them and with that, I have to force myself to make it to work on time until I get used to it.

Timeliness and responsibility are the values I realized over the weekend while doing this blog. All of us have our own share of tardiness; at work, meetings, parties, activities, and classes. Blame it on the weather, the traffic, the drivers, etc. - the truth remains: When you are late, you’re not on time!. From this day henceforth, I will take this lesson for my self improvement.  Produce if you must, but to be truly responsible, one must walk the talk.

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“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.” -Anonymous

Baguio-Bataan-Batangas-Bontoc-Boracay-Bukidnon-Cagayan de Oro-Caliraya-Cebu-Clark-Davao-Iligan-llocos-Iloilo-Liliw,Laguna-Lucena-Majayjay,Laguna-Nueva Ecija-Nueva Vizcaya-Pagudpud-Palawan-Pampanga-Pangasinan-Puerto Galera,Mindoro-Sagada-San Pablo-Subic-Tagaytay-Tarlac-Vigan-Zambales-Zamboanga

As I was pondering on my travel goals the other day, I was starting to feel disappointed because last year I only had the chance to visit two provinces for the first time namely: Nueva Vizcaya and Lucena.  Every year I would always set a major trip. Meaning, explore a strange land for the first time at least outside of Luzon. So I was looking at my list and sadly added these two. Not enough. Sigh.

Bangkok-Cambodia-Hong Kong-Laos-Malaysia-Singapore-Vietnam

On second thought, looking at my list I realized I have so much to be thankful for after all! I have been privileged to go around our country and other nations as well. Yet, there is still so much to explore. The Philippines truly is rich in natural beauty. No wonder a lot of foreigners come to visit.

This famous expression “it’s a small world” yet, how many fortunate individuals can say they have travelled around the world? If I had the luxury of time and money I would go to 10 countries in a year! Really, if there is one favorite advise I would always impart to people I meet, that would be “to travel and see the world; if not the world at least your country.”

31 provinces, 7 countries. Not bad. It makes me smile to look back and reminisce. But of course, I will not stop there.  There is still so many sights to see, oh so much more to see!

(This is an old entry written last year December 24, 2007.)

A famous carol goes, “it’s the most wonderful time of the year….” Ah, truly it is.

It’s Christmas eve.

On my drive home I glanced at the sky and behold, the moon in all its glory!  No wonder I was basked in a soft radiance as I hit the road. Times like these make driving alone an indulgence. I was quickly reminded of that famous star which led the three kings to the manger. I chuckled to myself. Christmas is in the air.

Hail to luna, oh ever so beautiful luna!

Glancing at the moon or should I say the moon watching over me gave me a calming, soothing effect. Like chamomile, or lavander or hot chocolate. It felt reassuring. Its presence gave me such comfort as if to say it’s perfectly alright to spend Christmas by myself.

If I could hug that moon I would!

For just a few hours before the strike of midnight almost every breathing being this side of the world is scrambling to get ready for Noche Buena. I imagine most mothers, housewives and household help are in a flurry of kitchen busyness as they prepare for their feast after Misa de Gallo. And there are those who are rushing to finish wrapping their gifts after doing their ultimate last minute shopping today. Finally, those carolers who quickly move from house to house hoping as they sing louder and faster they will still earn as much.

As for me, I am alone. I arrived home with all the Christmas lights on, bright and colorful. Only to find myself sneaking into a house where ‘not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.’ Nobody was home!

I look through the window and check the moon. I whisper softly, asking to keep me company through the night.

As I quietly settle into my room, slowly I am faced with that familiar feeling of aloneness. I’ll get by, I remind myself. It’s not the first time, in fact it’s been this way many times. The trade-off for being independent is that you are away from your family in this time of family celebration. Neither do I get to hang with my friends simply because they now spend it with their own families. I can admit, of course it makes me sad. To the point it makes me envy. Because I cannot have what they have. I don’t get to celebrate Christmas the way they do. I’m missing out good ol’ family fun time and the warmth of family celebration, staying up late merrymaking and opening gifts.

While I stay up late in bed watching cable hoping it’ll put me to sleep.

And then I had a passing thought. Perhaps there are people out there who would actually want to be in my shoes. Maybe I’m not alone after all! Because being alone is that special, tender moment to be with one’s self. The luxury to do as I please.

Tomorrow is Christmas day and I will be spared. Because I don’t have to dress up and drag my whole being to a get together and find myself in the thick of conversations with titos and titas, lolos and lolas, ninongs and ninangs, nieces and nephews, cousins and every member of a typical Filipino extended family. Giving a yearlong report of what-has-been and what-has-not-been in a quick, animated review over and over. Not that I don’t want to but simply because I find it exhausting, even monotonous. At least for most families I know this kind of gathering happens only once a year, which I find strange. Why do most families reunite only during Christmas?  Rather it becomes a procedure, a method of doing things. Is this what we mean by tradition? It’s so… what’s the word -routine. I feel heaviness in my heart now.

I don’t mean to rant.

Because I wouldn’t want to spoil my very private, personal and silent Christmas eve celebration. My mobile phone beeps again for a Christmas greeting text … and another, then next.

I look out the window one more time and glance at the moon. It is perpetually bright and still.

And I am at peace once again.

Not too many people know I was once into ministry work. Meaning, I worked for our church full time and got paid for it. My boss was a pastor; my colleagues were all church workers and leaders both from local and international offices. Our headquarters is Victory Leadership Institute (now known as Every Nation Leadership Institute). It is the central office of our church called Victory Christian Fellowship.

I did not apply for a position there. But here’s what happened.

The year was 2003. One morning while I was driving, I heard a voice telling me “full time ministry work.” Seriously, I heard a voice. It wasn’t anything thunderous or earthshaking. In fact, it was almost like a whisper, in a calm and gentle tone. I figured well, maybe it was just one of those thoughts from my cluttered mind. But I started to pray, and I said to God “well, if this is from you, do something about it. You pave the way because I cannot imagine myself doing church work.”

Two weeks after hearing “the voice”, I got a call from Victory Leadership Institute. A job was waiting for me. How could this be? I did not apply for work there!

That voice…how can I still doubt that it was God? It was too much of a coincidence.

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My boss was (and still is) the National Director for School of Arts and Media. I did a lot of administrative work plus we had a ballet school which I had to oversee as well. Our ministry was for church members who are into arts and media –visual artists, media people, photographers, actors and actresses, singers, dancers, production people and a lot more. Every time we had an event I had to coordinate with these volunteers. We used to be called tinC which means ‘talents in Christ’.

I had a wonderful time doing my job. It was such a joy working with volunteers, plus the fact I was learning a lot of new things. School of Arts and Media opened a whole new world for me. It was a humbling experience to work with big names who willingly share their talent and time generously yet, for free. But beyond their status and popularity, it’s their heart to reach out to other talents who are searching and looking for meaning in life. They patiently find time to share the gospel using their own resources. They boldly introduce God to them without shame.

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Doing full time ministry work is not a career. You don’t make money here. Whenever I tell people about this experience right away they say “really?!” in varying tones. It’s alright. How they react to it doesn’t affect me.

It is the toughest job in my entire life upto this day. Why? Because here your goal is not to please the standards of the world, but the standards of a ‘diving being.’ Perhaps a lot of people won’t get what I mean. The bible says, “to whom much is given, much is required.”

It was a privilege to work for our church. It is a calling, and not the usual job you can apply for. I feel honored. It doesn’t mean I am holier than thou. Why was I handpicked? It’s simply divine intervention.

Last November 08, 2008, my friends (Niña, Brency, Michele, Abie, Phen) and I had a reunion. It’s been ages that we didn’t see each other because it’s really hard to gather us altogether. We all have different lives now, new sets of friends, new environments, new places, different offices.  We seldom text each other, so at one point, I thought I lost them already and that I only have my UPEC friends.

When we plan for a meeting, we always push back when the meeting is due. Sometimes, my friend and I would try to organize watching a movie, eating dinner, go to the mall etc. but it was just hard, so we gave up.

Until one unfortunate event happen, Nina’s mom died. This pushed us to meet and went to the wake. We were like “Omg! We ended up meeting here at the wake!” We had a lot of catching up to do but the time was not enough. We agreed to book a hotel and stayed there for an overnight. It was the happiest night of my 2008. First, we shopped for food and drinks for our evening party, then went straight to the hotel. Before the dinner, we had a free facial and hand spa service. We started taking pictures, different faces and poses. We ordered a bucket meal from KFC for our dinner.

We kept chit chatting with each other, laughing, and capturing the moments. After a while, we began drinking vodka, and consume our snacks. It was all laughing trip and picture taking as for the effect of vodka. We laughed out loud like there’s no tomorrow, some of us rolled on the floor because of laughter. The people next door had to call the reception and complain about the noise they hear from our room. They had to call our attention which we completely ignored. The next morning, we found out that Nina chipped one tooth. Ha-ha. We had breakfast together then checked out by lunch time. We shared stories about work, love life, and of course our friendship. I realized how much I missed them. J I’m thankful that they are the ones I was with my entire college life. It feels good to see them again and it is great to have friends, it doesn’t matter if you only have one or two because life without a friend is like death without a witness.

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“Photography takes an instant out of time, altering life by holding it still.”–Dorothea Lange

I’m very visual. My creative juices come out as I am inspired by what I see around me.

A few years back I took a course in Basic Photography under Mr. Leo Castillo -a graduate of New York Film Academy and New York Institute of Photography. What I thought was an easy study turned out to be very technical. Photography is a serious course. Although it wasn’t forbidden to use a point-and-shoot camera, we were made to use a SLR -or single-lens reflex camera.

I didn’t own one. And at that time I didn’t have the money for it. So I ended up borrowing from a friend. Unfortunately, halfway through the course my friend needed back her camera for a shoot. And because of that I couldn’t continue and had to drop from class. ( I feel heaviness in my heart as I write this! Haha!)

But that didn’t stop me from taking pictures. Many times I would volunteer and take pictures for my friends using their camera. Right now I own a Canon Powershot A460. It’s ok, and somehow I am able to take good pictures. But I want more, and I want my own SLR. I have a couple of friends who are seriously into it. They spend hundreds of thousands for their set. Whenever I see their camera, I turn green with envy! I really have to save up for this expensive hobby.

Why do I like photography? It’s self-expression. It’s a different high, a rush whenever I am able to capture a moment. That’s why I love mood shots. It’s like poetry, it moves me. It grabs my attention and I don’t want to let go. It’s amazing how more and more people are wanting to get into it. But for me, it’s something very personal. Because every time I take pictures, I am able to freeze time. It’s magical. And I know I will never be able to go back to that moment. Never. Every picture taken becomes a memory right after I click.

I used to have a best friend online. He’s dark, attractive, and of Latino descent. He speaks Spanish and English. He used to be my English teacher and taught me some Spanish. We were very close. It felt like I’ve known him for so long… like I’ve met him personally. He knows me very well. He feels it when I’m sad, he knows it when I’m mad, and he knows if there’s something bothering me.

For some reason, the friendship that we treasured the most breathes its last breath. He let go of me, I let go of him. The pain of losing him didn’t hit me that much - until one day; it was the day when I broke down and cry. It felt like I broke up with a boyfriend. The pain and the tears I was holding for so long; I finally let go of them.

One thing that I won’t forget about him is his favorite poet; Pablo Neruda. I’m not fond of reading poems, so I didn’t care who Pablo Neruda was. He uses that name as his YM Id. At one point, I asked him what it means by his YM Id. He was surprised that I didn’t know. He told me about him, why he likes Neruda, and most especially, his poems about love.

Months had past; we didn’t communicate anymore. One time, I was sitting on Carmen’s chair. I was finishing up on something. I took a look on her cork board and I noticed a poem. At the lower part of the paper, there was a highlighted name which on that instant, reminded me of Luis. The name was Pablo Neruda and the title of the poem strikes me; “If you forget me…”

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda

The last thing he said to me was “I wish I can forget you.” I didn’t response. I was quiet and didn’t even bother to break the silence but this poem seems like the response I’ve been keeping inside.

“Car….I, uhm… he would beat me up. I’m a battered girlfriend.”

I stared at my friend. My mozzarella-covered fork with pasta noodles dangling from all sides hanged in mid-air.

For 5 seconds I couldn’t move. And then, I put my fork down.

My friend stared back at me. Her eyes were waiting for me to say something. Instead, I reached out for her hand and gently squeezed it.

Finally, I broke my silence. “Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

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My friend is only 5 feet flat; her ex-boyfriend is about 5’10. He is almost twice her size and this picture was running in my head as I listened to her. My eyes started to water.

She says it didn’t just happen one time. The beatings lingered since they lived together. He would flare up whenever she would get into his nerves (whatever that meant) and would resort to physical abuse when words are not enough to unleash his anger.

They worked on projects together as trainors. The guy was a motivational speaker, and girls would swoon over him. It was in India when she finally decided to escape from the clutches of her boyfriend’s “claws”. Penniless and only with her passport in hand she scrambled out of their hotel building and into the streets of Bangalore not knowing where to go. She ran so far away until she thought it was safe to stop. She begged a shop owner to allow her to use the phone for free. Her tears choked her words as she called home (Manila).

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We were at Italianni’s, Greenbelt. My emotions started to drown out the music and the chatter from the other tables. I tried to compose myself lest I breakdown and create a scene. Usually, I would know what to say. But at that moment, nothing came out of me. Just a sigh.

She arrived in Manila with bruises all over her body. Her parents were able to convince her to see a doctor. Yet, she doesn’t want to file for a police report.

The trauma has given her anxiety attacks from time to time. However, my friend claims she is much stronger now. And I’d like to believe it. But I know she will never be the same. There is a dent in her soul.

I am livid. Yet, I do not know who to blame. When I think of her I am also haunted by her past. Her healing is beyond words. I can only give her my silence as she speaks. And before we said good-bye I assured her by saying I don’t think less of her in any way.

She doesn’t know that I shed tears for her whenever she comes to mind.