Wednesday, February 18, 2009
It was a fruitful December. I had the chance to celebrate a Christmas Party with the children of Virlanie Foundation together with my batch mates from the Ayala Young Leader's Network.
I don't know with my friends but some of the pictures are prophetic I think... (hehehehe.. batchmates please judge!)
We had fun teaching the kids about hygiene and proper manners. We also had fun eating with the little ones who will hug you really tight like koala bears never wish to let go of a eucalyptus branch. The others were simply too curious to know what is inside the loot bags that we are giving away- only to find out that there aren't any chocolates inside! Thanks to Noe, we filled them with unilever products! hahahaha. Although, we also gave them what will truly make them smile- yes! Chocolates, candies, books and other Christmas surprises!
The party is not all about frolicking. It is very special to me as I saw once again the importance of being young and hanging on to idealism. As long as there are people out there who will not give up on their dreams for a better world, there will always be something that is worth hoping and fighting for.
Monday, February 16, 2009
I have always believed that I am capable. Praises exalted to my presence although unsolicited naturally became a self expectation( naks!) in every moment possible- and I have learned to love it. Not only are they affirmation of what I can do but it is likewise a message and a call for me to do what must be done acquiesce to what I know I am capable of doing.
But despite the will to rise I have always found myself wanting. An inch lacking in thought, perseverance and determination. Maybe perhaps it's because of my complacency- my comfortability. That is to lay confidence over every single plain compliment I receive. Although I deserve them as I am inherently born with so many things to share, I have always procrastinated in utilizing them completely. In being a professional, an aspiring writer, a leader, a student, a son, a debater and a lover I have been careless in knowing how much and how little I should give. These miscalculated acts that I did brought about no less than the consumption of myself. It is such a weakness to rant about erstwhile personal felonies but I should do more of it often and enjoy the guilt that I deserve.
Nonetheless tomorrow, I will wake up still blessed with all the hope and luck that the world can give. I pray that I be guided with wisdom and fortitude to endure. So that, any day will be made to more than just another yesterday that is lost and forgotten because it did not bore seeds that can create bloom for tomorrow-to survive for there will always be reason to live.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Martin Luther King, Jr.
After a conversation with a friend that has been long overdue, I was reminded of several exchange of txt messages that I have had with some people last week. Among a few of the ones that I remembered went as follows:
Monday, July 14, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
My earliest memories of Plaza Lawton are of endless lines of busses in an empty murky lot beside the long century old walls and the sight of ubiquitous commuters- waiting anxiously for their turn to hop in the bus that will take them to their home towns. My family and I were among those seas of people under the scorching heat of the April sun. On board the buses are endless exchanges of salutations and pleasantries among the town folks eager to find even the slimmest chance of being related with each other- an old maid aunt who owns a hectare of land where they all played or even the demonized principal of the Provincial National High School were they all attended. Amidst the loud rows of seated people are vendors making its way to the bus’s narrow aisle made even narrower with the sorties of bags and loots that line the pathway. Name it, the vendors have it- from DC apples from the States to the daily and the meager priced comics that is sold by the lot, to medicines, quail eggs, canned biscuits and medicines.
But my mind was fixated not on the journey that will take forever to complete or the chaotic scene. Outside the window, I am marveling at the sight of the wall that seems to keep us out from what is behind it. Its rough pavement and unequal fixings speaks of decades that it has endured. Even longer than the forever that my young mind had imagined our trip would take.
Intramuros. I would later find out about the majestic wall in my History subjects, fieldtrips and fun walks during my scouting days. More majestic are the structures and buildings of this city, concealed behind the ever imposing walls. They brought me back in time and I was ever vicarious in learning and understanding about my past and how my present is an amalgam of stories made real because of this city behind this fortifications. Occasional visits made me appreciate it more. Although I’ve grown to have this interest in all things that are old, I will not frequent the place since it’s quite far from where I live. Not until today.
Having relocated to a new residence in downtown
We enjoy the abundance of street foods sold in kiosks that are everywhere like mushrooms sprouting amidst the Spanish inspired concrete homes. Foods that is good yet cheap- affordable to the whims of youngsters that frequent the place. We enjoy feasting over sorts of delicacies such as kikiam, fishballs, green mangoes with bagoong, fried siomai, the perennial taho and soft drinks. Unorthodox is our pairing of these foods over a serving of chilled latte sold at the more posh coffee shops in the area. What makes the dinning special is not the charm of it being pedestrian. On top of the wide ledges of the wall, we sit in circles and exchange pleasantries- enjoying the comfort that the bulwarks offer. We are not alone of course. There are the ever romantic lovers, the other group of students from the nearby schools and some soul searchers who simply stare at the vast trimmed carpet Bermuda where golfers tee. Along the dark corners are etched markings and writings of obscure characters and features. Some are poetry of lovers, immortalizing their hidden romance. Others are simply nuisances of people taking advantage of the wide wall as if it’s a gigantic life size canvass where they find attention while concealing their identities.
All of these and the rustic appeal of Intramuros have made us love the place. These are my new memories of the plaza. Not only does its fame makes it a place to visit. It’s an invariable reminder that there is life among the ancient memories of home and no matter how life and fate decide for us- ours is the freedom to find meaning and worth in places both old and new.