Temporary

A last stab at April

The damsel in distress has called
A knight beside her she would need
The hero comes a-calling, unaware
What tragedy he would heed

Swords do clash, sparks unleash
Hilt and guard awash with sweat
The horns of battle grow with longing
At the stain of blood being let

The honor gained of a battle won
Leaves little glimmer for glory lost
The gauntlet speaks, and it speaks truly
Folly's treason and the lives it cost

Wake, o wake, o slumbering warrior
Escaping to find yourself is a lie
The allure of fantasy is all-so-convenient
Obscuring your fear from your mind's eye

Honor you seek is temporary
The world we have is challenge enough
No need to search for ladies and dragons
Fighting to stay sane is just as tough

History is written, and the tomes have aged
Movements and wars and discoveries
Statesmen and kings, tycoons and the rare sage
Have they relevance in your memories?

Returned

I lack the words
To narrate my return
Always the same excuses
Always the same
BLEAKNESS
Riding the back of my mind

I can no more deny the emptiness
Than I can willingly spill
My own lifeblood
For those that have remained

Yet my soul sings to be let free
But numb from the trying --
The despair of ever wanting to --
GRIEVE
Where there is no loss
Only anticipation

How can I explain to the prisoner
When the prison has no walls
And the boundaries may be eternal
The plastic awareness
Has settled into epoxine permanence
The mind plays cruel tricks
But my knowledge of it being so
Offers little comfort

Returned - a strange state to be in
When my home is not here...

Manila Diary - Blunders

Edit May 18: The account of my vacation has gone on too long, with edits and other stuff I have put down all that I have gone through. If you've gotten this far, you deserve a big hug from me. I put down all my thoughts into my Pocket PC, it’s just an entire month of re-adjusting and refining all my thoughts that I get to finish this.

One more note during my Manila stay before the real highlight of the trip (which came, appropriately, in the end, for a slam-bang finish) was my seeing my ex-boss Joecon.

We had a breakfast meeting in his house and we chatted up a great deal. The old man has been sadly diminished, though not significantly. Maybe I notice this because the light in my life is burning more strongly than it ever did during my years of service with him. Or maybe because he has been weighed down by all the problems and he has few competent people to lean on. In a way, it was weird justice because in his own way, he drove people like me away.

I expected him to offer me a job, which was one reason why I basically avoided him during my entire vacation. Interesting prospects, by the way, but it was just too late for me to worry about it (as if I would, with the plans I have made in KSA). If the mood during that day kept up I would expect a little less acrimony IF I do work for him again, but my personal prescription is a big fat NO, of course.

I’ve saved the best part of this story for last…

Remember at the start of my tale I bought a PDA phone?

(Go back, go back, go BAAAACCCKKKK)

When I got home after seeing the SHARE folks for the first time in a year, I spent about five hours getting used to it and putting in entries for my schedule, INCLUDING MY RETURN FLIGHTS to Dubai and KSA. Of course I wasn't in tiptop condition (jet lag) and pretty tired to boot. It didn’t help that I had a few beers that night, though less than usual.

So it was that it happened that I encoded my flight out to Dubai on Tuesday, April 19, instead of Wednesday, April 20... (!) How did that happen I can no longer decipher or try to divine . . .

The result, of course, was that I packed my bags and made all the arrangements to leave on Tuesday. I managed to get a hard-pressed Robert (who had a catering appointment to handle that evening, bless you, Robert, for making time!).

What happened to me was like an out-of-body experience. If it weren’t happening to me, I could have sworn it could have been a skit out of a comedy. As it was, I would relate it to you:

Otep gets off the car, waves off mother, sister, and househelp who wanted to see him off. The trio fight back tears while Robert, visibly hurried, says goodbye too.
Otep pushes the trolley up the ramp, not noticing that he should go to the POEA section, not noticing that he is making a ruckus because he put 54kg worth of luggage onto the trolley.
Otep fumbles around among his things, in his usual clumsy way, for his ticket, Overseas Employment Certificate, and passport. When he gets to the guard, he proudly presents his documents, as if saying smugly, "Isa akong Bagong Bayani! Worship me! Hahahahahaha!!!"
Guard, nonplussed and poker-faced, says, "Ser, bukas pa po ito. Tingnan ninyo, o… April 20."
Otep is SHOCKED (with a strange premonition that some shitty thing will happen, as if often does, to him. Poor soul. Aww!!!) and looks at the guard with the straightest face, "Ha?! Ganoon ba?" (Looks at the ticket, wanting not to believe) "Oo nga 'no!" (Wanting to pat the guard on the back and hit him over the head at the same time).
Otep turns his trolley around, again, noisily, as a long queue of people waits to get into the terminal. Otep does not look into their faces, and dials his sister's phone number, laughing at himself because there just wasn't room enough to cry or be humiliated. He pointedly does not look at the guard or at the other passengers.

(I'm now pausing for your benefit)...

It just took 20 minutes for Robert to broadcast this incident to SHARE people and the gang, the same amount of time it took for them to get back to the Departure area. To quote him: "Pare, kahit na late ako, sulit ang araw na ito!" And I can believe him. I was really sorry for ruining the evening for Robert. Tough call. Of course, the returns for him were huge. I would be stumped to come up with a blooper to top this one as one of the greatest loser moments EVER? My posting a neon-green, colored "L" on my forehead wouldn't have done the same kind of job….

Couldn't you imagine what that guard was thinking while looking at me for about 20 minutes while I waited? Priceless, priceless would be an understatement of a term.

So anyway, I did make it to my flight to Dubai the following night. I spent the next 36 hours with my sister who's based in Dubai, which needs another story for me to tell. Suffice to say that:

1) Dubai is a great place to live in, but not necessarily to save money. Everything is so darned expensive!
2) The head honchos in Dubai are probably among the most progressive and visionary in the entire Gulf. I haven't met a whole of Emiratis, but I can safely surmise that per capita they are among the most open-minded of the Gulf Arabs. Otherwise, I don't see their leadership making some headway in transforming their country.
3) Still, I wouldn't take anything away from a KSA-based life right now.

Things I did in Dubai:

1) Wild Wadi Water Park! What a great place! Pound for pound, though, I'd give Ocean Park the thumbs-up over this, but I had more fun here because I was able to enjoy more of the attractions. Grateful that my sister made the arrangments.
2) Almost getting detained. We took shots of some locals, which generally would be halal if one would go about it surreptitiously. However, we did it in front of the security guard, so we got called into the park office and had to delete the picture.
3) Eat an epicurean meal for the last time. We went to the Fairmont Hotel for dinner - a nice setting of steak! Met up with Sheila B, based in Dubai for some time and getting more womanly while she's at it.

Things I did not do:

1) Visit the strip, or see some of the ladies of the night. 'Nuff said.
2) Get a good night's sleep.
3) Have a sad moment.

So that ends my tale of the first-ever vacation from KSA. Hope the memories will keep me strong enough for the months ahead.

I AM RETURNED.

End of the Chinese Tale

Hong Kong.

The brassiest metropolis of China, and I would like to qualify this given that Shanghai has gone on overdrive the past 15 years and is the de facto business capital of the PRC.

It was almost eleven when we got settled into our hotel. Our guide, Henry, was a no-nonsense kind of person, a difference from Fiona who had the gift of gab and courted all attention. Henry had quiet knowledge but was more organized and efficient. We were hungry! The twists and turns of the station exhausted us.

We stayed in the New Territories, several kilometers away from the city center (which explains why the hotel was so cheap). The hotel was part of a mixed-use development with a high-rise apartment building making up the other portion of the property. As I divined, the room was small, but comfortable, though on the first night I slept on the window bench, which was a really bad idea.

The bummer of the Hong Kong trip was the clogged toilet in our hotel room! I’ll save the imagery for you. So we had to switch rooms and move all of our stuff. Stressful since we had to meet our 8:00am schedule but we only got to move at 7:30am!

Because of our experience in Shenzhen, we were not likely to pony up a lot of cash for the goods they were selling at the various tourist shops. I did, however, appreciate the kind of organization these guys had.

Why not promote eco-shopping tourism in the Philippines? Not only do we have the destinations, our people have enough smarts to do this. It doesn’t even need a whole lot of government intervention, only less government red tape. Why this is not being done is a testament to the lack of direction and vision in the country.

Going through Hong Kong, I gained a sense of balance over the things NOT DONE during this trip. Even with better management of my time, I guess it was all a matter of priorities – my primary objective being the happiness of my mother on her 70th birthday. It was also the first real opportunity for me to give something back to her after all of these years.

This opportunity may never come again. While I still have time, I aim to make life better for my mom. One only hopes she will be around if and when my own children come. Well, she is tough as anything, but the main problem is that I’m having a hard time on the relationship end (hahahaha!).

Ocean Park was a blast! Cute pandas (a relatively new attraction), fantastic cable car ride, great dolphin-and-seal show --- the only thing that took some fun away was that it was raining. Plus the fact we managed to run into one of the biggest senior citizen conventions ever. There was a veritable horde of seniors (most probably from elsewhere in China), so we didn’t get to enjoy some of the attractions as much. Back to the Philippine question – WE CAN DO THE SAME THING AS OCEAN PARK, but the question is - who is going to take the risk?

Later that day, we went to the Mongkok night market. It’s an experience to be undergone to give a good description. It’s not that esoteric, by the way, but still…

By that time, however, I was already drained due to the exertions of the day, and I didn’t want to spend as much anymore. I just wanted to sit down, relax, and forget that I would be spending more money. Still, we had to buy the requisite perfumes, knick knacks and some clothes for the people back home.

And so the trip ended with all of us filing into the tour bus to the airport the following morning. I did a cowardly thing though, to protect myself from potential letdown, which was NOT to collect numbers of our tour-mates. My mom had all of them though, but my not taking down numbers was a convenient excuse and an escape. Guess I still have to work on my store of guts. There will be opportunities anyhow; I just have to make proper use of them.

Interlude in Shenzhen

We stayed overnight in Shenzhen before going to Hong Kong.

The hotel was three stars – my sister and my mother shared one bed while I took the other. Still, the place was adequate except that we didn’t have room keys. We went late-night shopping and I came away with a watch. Nice rip-off of a Swiss IWC model.

The next day on the trip was the substantial one – both in event and in expense.

Item A: don’t bring women to a jewelry store or a store with exotic cosmetics.

Item B: don’t bring your credit cards or money with you.

Item C: leave your vanity at home, or else people will spot it and play upon your need to be recognized.

Result without Items A, B, C:

1) Humungous shopping bill.
2) Suddenly useless items which seemed good to buy at the time.
3) An aching wallet.

The funny thing was this incident with Fiona. As I said, she was a nice-looking girl, but what with my mother being in the forefront I tried to stay under the radar. Still, Fiona liked my mother a real lot. During our first stop, she said she would give all the items in the store if only my mother would stay behind in China (Tsk, tsk. As if I would allow that to happen). My mom said that if Fiona wanted a mother-in-law, she shouldn’t worry because her oh-so-cute son (me) was available to be her fiancé.

I ended up with a girlfriend for the rest of the trip. The joke was fun while it lasted.

Shenzhen’s best bet was the Windows to the World theme park, which was said to have been built for HK$600million. We ran out of Chinese money so it was a bit of a stretch getting by in the place. There were theme sections from East and Southeast Asia, Europe, the Americas, the Middle East/Egypt, Africa, and Australia. The only thing out of place was a dinosaur park. Every kid has to have dinosaurs somewhere. The replicas were great. It was a shame we didn’t have more time to tour.

I have observed that I defer often to my mother because she is such a convivial person, sometimes too convivial for her own good. I couldn’t get to the ladies in the tour group, folks! Normally my genial facial expression and pithy comments would demand some amount of attention. But alas, it was my mother’s time to do her thing.

At last we had to leave Shenzhen and Fiona (broken hearts, but most likely mine, sigh!) but the going was really bad. We left Shenzhen late, so one of the convenient entrances to the train station was closed. It was up-down, up-down, and through a maze of passageways. Finally we boarded the train and Shenzhen was history.

Notable notes:
Our tour guides always called us “grupong maganda at guapo,” likely something they learned throughout many tours. PRC people are likely to speak better English if they are government-connected, and they have made great strides in this area.
Chinese are really entrepreneurial, and it’s no great surprise the head honchos reshaped their economy to be capitalist while retaining central control.
The cutest girl that I saw on the trip wasn’t even Fiona, but a girl named Lorelei who even spoke better English. She was one of their people at the tourist shop, which I gather does big business with international buyers.

Reconnecting with China

The days of my vacation are almost ending. The mind does learn new tricks – RESILIENT I think is the best term. When I arrived, I couldn’t wait to go back to KSA. Now that my time is over, I wish I could turn back time and start this month over.

It’s simply too late to go back and try to set meetings with people I would like to meet. I remember a few of them now and I have only REGRET. I can only hope I will have better plans next time.

Before I go on telling about the trip to Hongkong/Shenzhen, let me tell you about the FOOD, food being my main preoccupation:

Shenzhen, pm, April 10: It was the standard Cantonese lauriat, the one where there are eggs and tofu always served. We were hungry, so we wolfed that stuff down.

Shenzhen, am, April 11: Breakfast of mini-siopao, buchi, boiled egg, rice, noodles, and pancit with nothing in it, and oh, corn and peas. The only thing that bothered me was that the servings were a bit mixed up. Our tour group people were aghast.

Shenzhen, noon, April 11: There were a selection of tourist restaurants but our tour just went to one for the entire trip. Same lauriat. The food was better, but it was the same lauriat. No water served, so either buy the bottled type or drink the house tea. I drank the tea.

Shenzhen, pm, April 11: As I said, same restaurant. Same lauriat. It was starting to get cloying, but I hardly noticed. I noticed my tour group mates noticing my not noticing, since I was the only one eating heartily. What's the deal, I was thinking.

When we arrived in HK that evening, Lucky Me! Instant mami never tasted better.

Hong Kong, am, April 12: Breakfast was a cafeteria type affair in downtown Kowloon. Food was actually better.

Hong Kong, noon, April 12: We had an extended stay in the tour spot, and it was raining! We went to a restaurant instead of a McDonalds. It was a mystery since we were all going to Ocean Park. The lauriat sucked. The Shenzhen type was better. I wonder.

Hong Kong, pm, April 12: We were left to our own devices, so I finally had my first Western meal in HK at the Mongkok KFC in the night market. Fabulous, fabulous, but rice was unbelievably expensive!

Hong Kong, am, April 13: Breakfast was loaf of bread and side of luncheon meat.

Hmmm… just made me think… why should I bother writing more about the tour when I can go just go on about the food? Makes me hungry… (grabs a snack)

Think again if you are going on a package tour to China, if you have a thing about some creature comforts and of course, food. Otherwise, the trip was a real blast!

Since the low point of the trip was not making it (screwing up our departure dates, care of yours truly), we were considerably loose when we got to the airport. Cebu Pacific offers a backdoor to Hong Kong through Shenzhen (which is the closest mainland Chinese city apart from Macau). If you have a thing against old airliners, don’t take this flight.

Cebu Pacific openly admits it uses previously mothballed jets which they secure from suppliers with only the avionics updated … it was my first encounter with a DC-9. As with all CP flights, no-frills was the norm.

We arrived at the swanky Shenzhen airport and it was another example how badly the Philippines has been left behind – the Shenzhen airport was utilitarian but still a work of beauty. It took us forever to get out of immigration since somebody with an American passport joined our tour group and had to be sent home. Too bad for her.

We were met by our tour guide, a Shenzhen local named Fiona Yin who was as cute as a button. I’ve always been partial to ladies with Chinese features and here was the real article. Seeing a real Chinese person made me reconnect with my last sojourn to the PRC – a splendid eight days in Kunming and two more in Hong Kong in December 2002. I came off that trip very upbeat (good trip + nice Chinese girl who became my friend), but it’s been long past and that girl hasn’t written me back ever since I left for Saudi Arabia.

China is an object lesson for Filipinos and authoritarian government:
1) Filipinos don’t need ironclad laws, they just need ironclad and incorruptible law enforcement.
2) We already have a good thing in democracy, but we are just too lazy to learn about, and live by, the responsibilities of a democratic society.
3) We are in sore need of national direction which a strong government will provide – however, “strong” does not necessarily have to be repressive.

Okay, I’ll save the commentary and go straight to the action…

Cripes! It’s late and I have a morning appointment, have to go now…

Manila Diary - Haze!

I've finished laughing for now. What just happened wasn’t funny, but there’s no choice for me but to laugh.

These past ten days or so have been a haze – too many beers in dark rooms. I’m glad that

A) I haven’t lost my wallet
B) I haven’t lost my new Pocket PC
C) I’ve gotten out alive.

My father did tell me it’s not the amount of beer you drink, it’s the people with whom you drink. There is no safety when the guys you drink with are total jerks.

Speaking of my father, I visited his grave at the cemetery. This gives rise to two thoughts:

A) What if my family agreed, as per my father’s wishes, to have him cremated? --- AND
B) Would it have made any difference?

I also visited my late friend Miggy Baluyut in his resting place. The devotion of our other friends to his memory is so touching, almost “faggy” in nature, all in the most positive way, of course. It’s like those buddy moments like the Dirty Dozen or perhaps more recently, the Lord of the Rings movies, but as I said, all in a good way, of course.

I spent Easter celebrating Jene P.’s birthday with the Funny Bunch at Jene’s swanky new home. The future, no, the present, is all so bright for Jene – prospects coming up, a wonderful wife, and supportive friends. Granted, there are always bumps on the road, but wouldn’t there always be?

I slept through parts of “Team America” (finally, I got some good sleep) by the guys who created “South Park” and “Baseketball,” Matt Stone and Trey Parker. The movie was a huge broadside on liberals, self-righteous artist-activists, chick flicks, and for the most part, good taste. Needless to say, the gang lapped it all up. “Triumph the Insult Comic Dog” was also a blast. To use the canine’s words, it’s probably the greatest DVD bargain ever – “for me to poop on!”

And after that – a real alcoholic haze that I was referring to.

Normally, I would pop in a “what have we learned?” portion, but I’d just get onto the funny story:

My sister (the youngest among them, the one with three kids) had referred to us a wonderful four day-three night package to Hong Kong and Shenzhen, all told for a sum of $178++ (plus taxes and other stuff, it went to more than $250) per person. I would pay for me and for my mother, and our eldest sister would join us on the trip. My sister asked for an April 7-10 schedule since it would fit in with her days off and the April 9 public holiday, and this is what I specifically did not look at when I bought the tickets on April 4, Monday. I assumed that my other sister fixed it up with the agent. Turns out the tours were on fixed schedules.

Now, I could have looked at the tickets, but all I did was stick them into my bag, go out, and then proceed on working myself senseless.

The following day, I was pretty groggy when I gave the tickets to my mother and she put them away. That makes us two whiz kids who did not bother to read the fine print, but of course since I was making the arrangements, I take all the blame. Because…

The tour was SPECIFICALLY scheduled from April 10 to April 13. We were already packed and scheduled to leave for the airport when our youngest sister (the one who got us the contact) called us and told us to check the tickets. And lo and behold! The tickets were from the 10th to the 13th.

(Long pause…)

{Aftermath edit, April 23: After we had gotten over the huge deflation over all the anticipation for the trip, it was time to laugh. The only damage it did was to my sister’s schedule since she had to move her days off. A few ruffled feathers, for the most part, and as a plus, my mother got to attend her prayer meeting with her prayer community, which she would have missed otherwise.

Still, that little glitch did not ruin that tour.

Did we learn anything from that episode? For me, obviously not, as events in the near future (as in the following week) would bear out…)

Looking Back - "Aubrey"

I’m taking a break to re-post an old journal entry I wrote two years ago, almost to the day. I attended a Journal Writing workshop that I never felt like attending in the first place, but my friend and erstwhile colleague made such a good case for me to go. It was a worthwhile experience, too bad I did not get to repeat it.

This entry is slightly edited, and it was with a little surprise that I delivered it in public.

"AUBREY"

It was a 1982, 1400cc, red, box-type Mitsubishi Lancer - my friend Robert's car, Aubrey. His story of naming his car goes something like this - when he first acquired the car from its previous owner, he turned on the radio, and coincidentally the song that was playing was Bread's "Aubrey." Or something like that.

Maybe it's less of the car but more of the person who owned "her," but Aubrey was the confessor of our barkada, the ship of our dreams and aspirations, the granary of our frustrations, fears and disappointments. She of course was also the sounding board of our jokes! What we shared inside the car raises a thought - if Aubrey only had a soul - she would write the story of our lives - the journeys we have traveled, the ribbing and the kidding around, the stories that we told and lived through - she would be part of the soul of several years of friendship.

Aubrey was not just a car, she was an old friend that you've been longing to see and would always like to see - she would always be waiting expectantly for me to hop in. When I hear the familiar crunch of her door hinges, when I inhale the sweet-sour smell of her upholstery, when I run my hand on her cracking paint, and even when I struggle to thrive on the hottest days and her aircondtioner wasn't working - I know I am safe and secure, ready to share another adventure with her and our friends. When I am ensconsced in her arms, I believe that I am among friends, friends who accept me for who I am, who accept my idiosyncrasies, reveling in my own gifts and personhood.

Aubrey was the altar of our friendship, a hallowed place that is no less sacred for all the lewdness we have talked about, all the crazy songs we conceived and sang, the dirty looks we gave to passers-by, and generally, the drunkenness of being young and carefree. Aubrey was a fount of acceptance, of belonging, of HOME.

And like Aubrey, her owner Robert is in his own way a fount of kindness and friendship - someone you'd expect would be there if you're in a crunch. It's sad how seldom I got to tell him I appreciate him (what with all the male way of showing appreciation), how have we as friends - sometimes me in particular, forget to tell him we're sorry that we put him into some amount of inconvenience or hurt, or to give some consideration to his feelings. For, like Aubrey, Robert had become an invaluable tool, an indispensable appliance (if those words could be thought of as complimentary when referring to a person), the ubiquitous glue that binds people together. For all this time, I have known that he is one of those angels who walk this earth, giving guidance and comfort wherever he goes.

Aubrey is no longer with us - she gave up the ghost after being involved in an accident on West Avenue some five or so years ago - though Robert had her fixed, it was clear her time had come and he had to let her go. By some twist of fate, it was also around that time his mother passed away - it was as if an era an ended and a new one must be written. For a time, we shared some experiences with his other car, a Kia Pride CD-5 we called "Jenny." We called her "Si Kia" at first and since Gabby Concepcion was married to Jenny Syquia at that time, it was somehow apt to call her just that.

But then, in some cosmic joke or case of serendipity, Robert bought a new car with the money his mother left him - a bigger vehicle that could take in more people (a proverbial school bus) and take us where we want to go. It was a red Mitsubishi Adventure - we called her "Aubrey II."

As with Jenny, life with Aubrey II was not the same with the THE Aubrey. Another of our friends had a Toyota Tamaraw FX called the “Millennium FX” that we also went around in, but for some reason or another, it wasn't the same too. Like an old pair of shoes worn in to the grooves of my foot, the first Aubrey was a comfort that could never be equaled. As time passes and the tapestry of people's lives change, we also follow our own channels, our own paths. Aubrey II was not the same kind of experience, and neither does she evince the same kind of nostalgia as the first one. Perhaps it's because life does tell us that each moment is something we should cherish, and that we should live each moment with value, and to fill these spaces with love. Same for the people we cherish and love.

Now that we spend less time with one another and our friends, I miss Robert, I miss all of them. Some have gotten married, and some have gone away to other places. I miss Aubrey.

But if by chance I see any kind of box-type Lancer, no matter how beat-up or old-looking, I remember Aubrey and am warmed by the thought that somehow, somewhere out there, angels do exist and miracles happen everyday. They're often man-made.

Manila Diary - Celebrating Rebirth

A week had passed and I haven’t gotten myself on Manila bearings yet. I guess it has something to do with the fact that I hardly ever sleep on time, or that I keep on doing things that take me past reasonable bedtime hours for people.

Holy Week used to be the Holy Grail for family time when all of us children were still students. We actually managed to pack eight people in a sedan – my brother driving, me seated on my father’s lap on the front passenger seat, and my three sisters, my mother, and my other brother at the back.

There were the trips to Pangasinan – with side trips to Baguio for some days. There were the company trips and beach-hopping in Cavite and Batangas – and Holy Week was the only time everybody was available.

Time has past and the allure of Holy Week has faded. Holy Week was also the week that added to the mystique that was our father.

I had made plans with my brother to go to Puerto Galera for Holy Week – but we decided too late and everything was so expensive. In the end, we joined my sister and her family to my brother-in-law’s place in Batangas. We were there from Thursday to Saturday.

At the start of the week, I pointedly avoided seeing my former boss when I visited RFM – it was a good thing he was in Jakarta at a meeting following the First Miss ASEAN Pageant. On a side note, our entry and the winner, Jheazarie Javier, looks very personable. An apt winner, and some plus points for a land looking for some.

I brought the cheque donation of SPA to the Cartwheel Foundation. It was a moment of some significance, and I feel good for all the efforts I exerted on getting that cheque safely settled in their hands.

Of course, the transition to Manila life wasn’t easy. When I was younger, I looked askance upon our eldest brother, but since we discovered that we were helpless drunks (and still are, God help us), we have gotten along just fine. My best friend was my other brother – but since that fateful Change so many years back – I have gone through several stages from self-loathing to pity to disdain to indifference. I can’t change who we were – there is so much history for me to ignore that – but the present is such a quandary to resolve.

So it was in a tense atmosphere that we left Manila for Batangas.

In the provinces, the onset of time is far heavier than it is in Manila. Adapting would mean becoming more laidback – or moving out. So, the more things change, the more that they remain the same. What I find so sad is that people leave so much damage in their wake.

Malabrigo Point in Lobo, Batangas is a national historic site - the landmark of that place is a lighthouse built by the Americans to guide ships around the point to Batangas harbor. The only reason for that area's existence is that very lighthouse. My brother-in-law's family moved there to maintain that lighthouse. I envy the kind of history that they have, though sometimes that kind of history has its own unwanted truths spilled out...

It was nice to reconnect with my sister's sons again. I never developed a relationship with her daughter, the youngest, and this was the first time that we were in close quarters for an extended time. Invariably family relationships rise and ebb and her daughter was born when our relationship was strained. There are always high hopes . . . I hope these kids become an improvement over us, their predecessors.

It would have gone pretty uneventfully - the place is far more comfortable than last time I was there more than eight years past - but my brother-in-law chose to be an idiot in picking a fight with my brother. Suffice to say, the superior man subdues his anger without need for fighting; an inferior man looks for a chance to show his pride when there is no need. My brother-in-law could have been the superior man, but he stooped to the lower level. What a shame. And I thought he had grown up. Tsk, tsk.

I am glad, though, to have met one of the friends my sister turned to when her youngest Trixie was born. While I had no chance to unburden myself as I normally would have and listened to the concerns of other people, the sun and the fresh air helped a great deal to rejuvenate my emotional batteries. I got what the doctor ordered - a holiday and a tan. When we got back to Manila, I even had a double chance to unwind since my brother was checked in at the Pen. Hmmm... his Holy Week holiday isn't a bad idea.

Easter should be the most important Christian holiday but I have a theory why it's not as popular as Christmas - it's because the Easter date changes every year and the sense of anticipation is not the same.

Finally, I am so pleased that this week and the Easter holiday have validated the changes in my own life. Not all of the changes are good, and it would be foolish for me to expect that, but I'm glad all the same.

Manila Diary - Falling Down

Just a warning --- the bulk of the entries in this diary are actually written in hindsight. But it seems unfair NOT to write anything down as they happen.

I had a recurring dream that I would be left by my plane on the way back to KSA. That would be disastrous – aside from whatever penalties I will pick up from the no-show, I would be heavily penalized by the Company. Loss of face actually would mean much more than the loss of money.

I had no idea it would turn out otherwise.

My life would most likely be more profitable have I no need of this form of catharsis. I take a lot of pride in being able to put words to describe my life; I take none in time at times I find that life wanting in meaning.

It's just like falling down - the power of the g-force swooshing against one's cheeks, the adrenaline kicking in and the promise of fear all but gone as exhilaration takes over the short-circuited nerves. It's all so exciting - until the brunt of the impact deadens the whole body. The thrill - and the emptiness - that's how the search of life must be those for those who have leisure at their fingertips.

Now if all those broken bones wouldn't serve up a reminder…

Thirty-five days I was away from my life in KSA, and my exile was put in hiatus. Thirty five whole days! How I wish they could be so easily forgotten. The prize of all this toil - a mere respite for all the 300 or so more days I have to wait for again - is a chance to be in touch with who and what I was BEFORE I left for the Middle East.

Funny, after one whole year, it seemed that it didn’t add up to a whole lot, but when I had to return, it was a whole lot more.

Day 1 – Actually, night one.

My mother’s 70th birthday was the 19th of March, so by all means fair and foul, I had to make to it to Manila by that date. Complication was, my sister was in Dubai and I had to go there too to see her.

So it was I booked myself on Emirates instead of Gulf and suffered a seven-hour lay-over. It didn’t feel like that way, but I did get stressed from all that waiting. The flight was full – families making their way back for the school holidays. In other words, I twiddled my thumbs since I couldn’t get on the earliest flight out. I did get some practice with Arabic by listening to the airport PA system.

Finally, when I got on the plane, some intemperate kabayans drank too much red wine on the trip from Dubai to Manila. Aforementioned kabayans started feeling the effects of their drinking, and proceeded to make a beeline for the toilets. Since I couldn’t do my thing in the plane, I had an extreme case of number two on the way out at Immigration. Coupled with the numerous frantic phone calls of my folks wanting me to arrive in time for my mother’s birthday, it was a real pressure cooker.

My folks arranged for airport pick-up – my arrival was meant to be a surprise – so I really had to get on the car service ASAP. There was traffic on Tramo, there was heavy traffic at Edsa Guadalupe, there was traffic at Pioneer. My kind driver drove me to a Chowking and fortunately I made it before my sphincter gave way… (hahahahaha!). I had a great entrance at the party. It was a blast. Nothing beats going home.

I was not surprised that I ended up that night at one of my old haunts along Edsa. It was as if I had never gotten away – there was the smell of spilled beer and cigarettes, the slight zest of the fragrance the bar gave to their girls, and as always, the videoke machine. Bless the videoke machine. Without it life wouldn’t have been as bearable.

Day 2 – The bright lights have given way to the start of the Manila heat. The notable of this day was that the SHARE people got together courtesy of our buddy Robert who called a reunion on my behalf.

Quezon City is still the same. The buildings of Eastwood rise against the smog-filled sky. Traffic clogs the streets.

The hits of the day: Beer and pork – goes without saying. Meeting with the SHARE folks!

This past year saw some friends and family depart – some very close to my heart and others just simply part of the periphery that makes up the space of OTEP. There were also new friends – friends out of the necessity of sharing the same workspace, but more importantly, friends I have chosen to take into my heart because they enrich the space where I live, think, and feel.

But the SHARE people – they are irreplaceable.

Misses of the day: I never missed Manila traffic, and I got a first-hand lesson in Manila humidity. The service at that Gerry’s Grill was abysmal.

Treat of the day: I bought an HP iPAQ 6365. It has some disappointments, but I couldn’t be more excited about it that Sunday night.

(This will have dire consequences for me later).

Craven

I crave
I crave to be free
I crave to be me
Unmistaken to be a shining star
Firmly placed in the heavenly vault
A sign
A hope

I crave
I crave for the truth
I crave for my youth
Unknowing grasping at unknown
Folly to want so much wisdom
A shoot
A spur

I crave
I crave for a love

Not lost
Yet not understanding
Riding the rollercoaster of life
Dread
Terror
Going down the chasm
Yet wanting it again
and again
and again

Home
Clutched in my mother's arms
Bearing a sword in her defense
Wanting to be weak
Wanting to be a child
Wanting to let go
Craving
To be
Craven

Craven
No lies on my face
No false hopes
No questions
No doubts
No walls
No defenses
But no true love

Riven
Divided by expectation
Torn
Battered
Scarred
World wanting so much
Having everything and nothing to give
Distorted
Discarded
Forgotten

Craven
No reason to be brave
No reason to behave
I live
I thrive
I seek
Love hides
So it must be
So it always has been

Searching for the true song
A song of love
A song of living
A song of deliverance
No meaning hiding between the lines
For that song says

You are
I am
We are together
But we are two
Belonging
But strong even alone.

Until that day comes
I crave
Until that day comes
I crave
I admit loss
Inconsequence
Solitude
Pain
Fear

I am craven
But I am me

The Stupidity of War

The headlines scream at me with the regularity of conflict that the images metamorphose to numbness. If there is a cause the world should devote itself to, it should be peace. There is no conclusive proof that free-market economics will do the trick.

Let's concentrate on the word "free." What kind of freedom does a "free" man have when all he has is the freedom to starve with the burdens of government inefficiency, too many taxes, too many barriers ... when conflict in the Middle East will spike oil prices and drive prices of commodities even further.

Yup, cynicism is the order of the day - or perhaps guarded optimism at best. A little piece I'd like to share with you, written at the beginning of the Balkan conflict in the 1990's:

Little soldier girl, do not cry when the drums refuse to play.
They are dead and buried under the ground, you know.
Don't fret when the clap of the cymbals have ceased singing.
They have wasted away in silence, even as you are far away.
No matter how much you tried to hear them as the winds blow,
No matter even if you're a world apart or within hearing.

The sounds of the battle march were tried, and found wanting.
And your tears mean even less in your own hour of reckoning.

Little boys in men's clothing take up their standards of death
And spread them like cloaks, or perhaps like picnic cloths
That invite destruction and decay to feast upon their souls.
Watch and see, little soldier girl, the stench of their breath
As they gamble recklessly and with doom they cast their lots.
They know little, men that they are, the weight of their roles.

So do not cry when the joyous jigs are buried with the moles.
The din of their gaiety brings no laughter but from the poles.

And did you know, little soldier girl, that with each battle cry
Another drop of blood is spilled upon the ground, to sow the soil
With the seeds of death, so that more would die the next time?
Did you know that the cries of joy these men heave and sigh
Are the very shouts in the darkness against which all must toil?
There is no reason in the melodies you wish to hear, nor rhyme.

The echoes lash about themselves, destroying themselves in time.
And perhaps you may say the song of death has become sublime.

Little soldier girl, will you die for the din in their hearts
That cries for retribution, that shouts for revenge for wrongs
Of childhood that all must bear? Will you perish for dreams
Of fear, of bogeymen in the night, of wan witches and their arts?
Will you make them real as these men plan to do in their throngs?
Will they die for you, you who do not know what's real and seems?

The anger and hatred in them is ripping their souls at the seams.
And the discordant tunes that haunt you are nothing but dreams.

It's said that idle minds are the devil's workshop, and I agree,
As the train of thought urges one to take one's hands and grasp
That lowly piston of desire, to acquire some comfort from lust.
Little soldier girl, it is not war which would set them free,
For their guns spit only the scum from their fear-filled asps,
Cringing in their fear of unknown destiny rising from the dust.

And they still spew and fight, doing what they think they must.
But looking in their eyes, reality has powdered itself to rust.

And oh, the loneliness that cries out from their scarred sinews,
The greed which has wasted their speech into guttural laughter :
You know how it is, little soldier girl, when dreams have died,
There's no herald to shout and holler, no tome to break the news,
There's no one to pick up the broken pieces in the morning after,
There's nothing to make up for but the noise of slighted pride.

There's no song in the air and the whistle in the wind has died.
And you will stand all alone with only adversity by your side.

There's still time to grow, little soldier girl, time to scatter
All your dreams and sow them as seeds into the great wide beyond,
Time for you to live and be happy, time to cherish the beauty
Of all this world, time to ask and know what really is the matter
With all of life. There is time to bear your daughter and a son
Who will carry on all your dreams and live in all this bounty.

I can hear your song for them, but its voice is spent and empty.
The melody is mired in the stench, still it is proud and haughty.

Little soldier girl, the song foretold for you is beyond hearing.
Puny men decide the way you go, to show the size of their roles.
Let go, strive for happiness, look for the reason and the rhyme
In all of this madness; find the the true gold in all that seems
Glitter; raise yourself from the pile of filth and from the dust,
Give yourself a reason to brush your feathers and live in pride
For deep within you there's more than wealth, more than bounty.

Look for it deep within your heart. It's called the truth.

Forgotten

Does anyone want to live forever?
Does anyone want to love without pain?
In the rush to buy all things we've forgotten
Nothing we have is so easily won,
No road is better than the one we're on.
When this life ends, when everything is done,
Can eternal day make brighter the sun?
Glory fades soon after it's begotten
But no loss is lost; lost love is true gain
In memories of our lives together.

Housekeeping

Finally...I have put together all the relevant stuff I've written or thought about during the past year. There are still some holes in my narrative, such as my first impressions of the families living here in KSA, how things went in my Creative Writing classes, preparations for the show... or that span in July and August 2004 when I had to get my head down and learned what I needed to learn for my job.

There is also the matter of confidences shared that I could not possibly let the public know, or updates on family members - for example, after I left home, my sister laid out her stakes and went to Dubai. Of course there were times I had no time to think of other things except work. Certainly if I had time to post I'm not busy at all.

There is still some comfort level I have to attain writing this way and getting the hang of all the other enhancements will take some time, especially posting pictures - not so much of me since I am not at all photogenic, but of other people and events that have made this first year in KSA memorable.

I am not out of the woods yet - still three weeks to go! I got my ticket today and it's confirmed - I will be spending seven extra hours on my layover in Dubai before I board my flight to Manila. Major bummer! If only I could go to Dubai visa-free without flying Emirates, especially on the busy days of the week.

*Sigh* They said you can't have everything, but I certainly tried to on this trip. Still thankful anyway.

Grounded

High-flying, free
Waiting to break out into song
Buoyed by the flush of delight
Like's a lover's long-awaited first kiss

Gliding, swirling
Dewdrops on the freshest flowers
Expectant of self-fulfilling prophecy
A supplicant hoping against all hope

Hanging on a thread
Such is life of one like me
Nourished by hopes
It will all get better
Not wanting to wake up

Otherwise –

Grounded
World-weary, obscure
No pretending in the face of despair
No formulae or words

No mantras –
Humbled, silenced
Treading the world step by step
Mystery is all in the mind

Working Backward...

I've actually had this blog all of one day but I'm organizing my way backward ... digesting all the thoughts I've written down electronically or in my journals.

It's a nice new experience. If I had more time to learn this gig (my training in HTML coding is dated about five years) I'll put in all the bells and whistles. Anyway, for now this format would suffice.

How time flies. Eighteen years ago I was with a bunch of other people who enjoyed the mere sight of four million people crammed into such a tiny space called EDSA. I find Antoine de Saint-Exupery's statements in "A Little Prince" so true. It's strange that humans want so much space when you can cram the whole six plus billion of us into a small amount of space than we occupy all over the Earth. It gives me perspective on how fleeting things can be and that people are much more important than ideas.

But it's like working backward on this blog... one can't perfect the events of the past, one can only move forward. Looking back, though, teaches me that it's all so possible to regain the insight of the times. Still, human beings can be so stubborn. History does not repeat itself, really, it's just that humans learn so slowly.

Will there be another EDSA in store for the Philippines? I do hope so, not because we Filipinos need to throw out our leadership for one more time, only to allow other crooks and the crackpots to seize power, but only because the potential exists for us to want, to need, to act for that change.

Still, one can only work backward for so long. I have said this so many times during those retreats - for every moment that passes, the past becomes bigger and the future becomes smaller. There is no value to looking past or looking forward if one doesn't start doing something NOW.

Stultified

3:19 p.m. Arab Standard Time.

So reads the dial on my computer clock. Three weeks and counting before I go on vacation in the Philippines . . . I’m facing a creativity drain which is threatening all the rest of my normal professional functions.

Is work boring? No. Is life boring? No. I just have this overwhelming feeling that all this – doesn’t matter anymore! Funny, but that it should happen to me these past few days when this was the kind of feeling I had avoided during my entire sojourn in Saudi Arabia.

Let’s see what I can do to get out of this funk. Instead of being aimless in front of my computer, I’ll see if blogging will get me moving. Stay tuned.

Random Thoughts - Valentine's Day

Well, I'd like to say something again...business must be good on Valentine's Day.

Hate to sound particularly KJ, but isn't the point of a loving relationship is keeping the love-light burning on the 364 other days of the year? So what's all the fuss with Valentine's Day?

Paraphrase of Robert Jordan: "Women love to fall in love, but only with the one they really want. Men don't want to think of love, but fall in love with the first woman that ties a string to their hearts." Don't want to blame the women for the hubbub over V-Day, but hey, blame everyone else first, right? (O.k., I'm just kidding, girls. Don't delete me from your lists yet.) OTOH, men have their own salacious reasons for the day, and mostly illicit too, hehe.

Got interrupted midway on this post...proud to say that our group here in KSA did well on our first presentation - a voice recital from eight of our students. Some dancing, some acting, some hosting thrown in, mostly by pre-teeners and teenagers. I was not altogether pleased with the PROCESS of it getting done, but on the whole, it turned out to be a lot better than what I expected.

Hey, it would be great to celebrate Valentine's and have it mean something more than just the CHOREOGRAPHY of love. Maybe, for me, it's because there's no one to share it with, these days. (short pause...)Or maybe not. If that were true, there'd be no reason to love life the other 364 days of the year. And I like life a whole lot more these days even though on some days it can be tough even to smile.

Still, needs must that we observe the rites of love (the romancing and the dancing) for often these are actions that are too often neglected, or in some cases, commercialized and trivialized to an absurd degree. For every rite that makes one day different from other days, and one hour from other hours, there is just another business that goes with it.

I'd like to see more homemade cards that even though they don't come out like Hallmark's, make a bolder statement because of the effort that went into them. I'd like to read bad poetry because it says more of the courage of the person writing and saying them than just hitting the right note with a ready-made CD. I'd like to know more of the patient waiting at the corner just to see a glimpse of the treasured one, and oh, the delight of it!Those are the things that make V-Day really work. It doesn't mean to throw out all that other stuff, but that without the real magic behind them, they're just... BUSINESS.

Trouble is, if everyone just picked up love at every other time, there wouldn't be any fun for business at all during Valentine's Day, and that may be ruinous, wouldn't you say? But such spontaneous gestures for any other day, on the other hand, make for more worthwhile living, methinks.

Have good thoughts of loving, everyone.

Rebirth

For the gift of life, for the gift of love. For my late father, for my mother who waits for my return. For today, which would have been their forty-seventh wedding anniversary.

Once I wrote of birth, waiting to be reborn. For a memory fourteen years past, for a life fourteen years hence that I may be able to look at this time with fondness.

For my family - the one that gave me life, and for those others who shared their lives and gave me inspiration.

Ang Anak Sa Sinapupunan ng Ina
Nagising ako sa kadiliman.
Hindi ko alam kung sino ako, o ano ako.
Basta, ang alam ko, bunga ako ng pagmamahalan.
Nag-ugat ako sa isang handog ng pag-ibig.
Iyon pa lang ang nasasaisip ko, maligaya na ako.
Sino kaya ang nagbigay buhay sa akin?
Ano kaya ang ginagawa nila?
Ano ang kanilang katangiang kahanga-hanga?
Ano ang kanilang pagkukulang?
Handa ko silang mahalin, dahil binuhay nila ako...
Ewan ko ba kung bakit ganito ang naiisip ko.
Kabubuo ko pa lamang, ang dami ko nang tanong.

Ang Ina, Umaasa
Naramdaman ko ang buhay na namutawi sa loob ko.
Batid ko ang anak ko sa aking sinapupunan.
Lalaki ba siya, o babae? Matangkad o pandak?
A, basta, kahit ano pa siya, minamahal ko siya.
Kahit maging pangit pa siya para sa iba.
Sa akin, magandang-maganda siya, o kaya,
Napakaguwapo! Anak ko yata 'yan.
Hindi na bale ang paghihirap, kasama 'yan
Sa kaligayahang matatamo sa pagdadala ng bagong tao,
Bagong buhay dito sa mundong kinagigiliwan...
Sabik na akong halikan at hagkan siya,
Ang anak ko!...Mahal na mahal kita!

Ang Ama, Nagsasaya
Tatay na ako! Nabigyang katuparan ang aking inaasam!
Ang anak ko ang magiging pambato namin,
Ang pagyayabang ng aming pamilya!
Sana lalaki, tagadala ng pangalan, bisig na masasandalan!
Kung babae?...hahangaan ng buong pamayanan!
Hindi na ako makapagpigil, kailangan kong magsaya!
Tatay na ako, naiinitindihan ninyo ba ang ligaya
Ng mag-alaga at magpalaki ng iyong anak,
Ng magbigay-ligaya sa sanggol at sa batang lumalaki,
Ng magkayod at magsikap para sa kanyang kinakailangan?
Handa na akong magtiis para sa iyo, anak,
Mahal kita! Kahit sino ka man, mahal kita...

Ang Kapatid, Hindi Mapakali
Nadagdagan pa kami, biyaya raw ng Diyos.
Naku! Ang dami pang abala ng sanggol na iyan!
Ang dami pang kakulitan at kaguluhan ang bibigay niya!
At higit pa sa lahat, magmumukha pa akong matanda,
Kasi, mas bata siya sa akin....nakakahiya, 'no?
Diyahe pala ang matawag na ate o kuya, at manong o manang.
Pero...masarap sigurong maging bantay sa bata,
Nakakakiliti pa lang isipin na mayroong akong matuturuan,
Na ako ay magiging huwara para sa kanyang mabuting paghubog,
At higit pa sa lahat...mauutusan at mauuto!
Hindi naman, kasama iyan sa pagmamahal, sa kapatiran.
'Tol, kahit kailan, naririto ako para sa iyo.

Ang Ina
Anak ko, anong biyaya ang maibibigay ko sa iyo?
Anong pamanang maihandog na iyong pagyayabang?
Anong pagmamahal na iyong ikalalaki at ipapamahagi?
Anong pag-arugang iyong ilalakip na parang hiyas?
Anong parangal ang ikatataas at ikabubuti mo?

Ang Ama
Anak ko, sapat ba ang aking huwaran para sa iyo?
Ako ba'y nagtataglay ng kabutihang iyong sasaliminin?
Ako ba'y isang bayani sa iyong paninigin?
Ano pa ba dapat ang aking gagawin para sa iyo?

Ang Kapatid
Kapatid, sana hindi lamang tayo magkadugo, ngunit magkaibigan,
Na ang kadalisayan ng pagmamahal ang siyang pangpatingkad
Sa atin...ano pa ang aabutin ko para sa iyo?

Mga Gabay ng Sanggol
Kung hindi sapat ang puso ko sa pagbibigay ng pagmamahal,
Kung hindi sapat ang kamay ko sa pag-alaga,
Kung hindi sapat ang dugo't pawis ko sa pag-aalala,
Iaalay ko ang aking buong sarili...para sa iyo.

Ang Sanggol
Salamat, mga nagmamahal sa akin, salamat sa
Pagmamalasakit ninyo...Ano ang aking pagkatao
Na kayo'y magdulot ng inyong buong pagkatao,
Na kayo'y mag-alay ng inyong pag-ibig...
Sino ba ako? Bakit ako ganito kahalaga?
Ano ba ang aking halaga para sa inyo?
Sana, hindi maglaho ang inyong pangako...
Pero, alam, hindi mangyayari iyon, ibibigay ninyo
Kung ano ang makakaya ninyo...Sana, sana, sana,
Humigit ang handog ko inyo sa pagdaos ng panahon...
Iyan ang aking pangako, sana hindi ako mabigo...

Panahon ko na para maisilang!

I'll Be Seeing You Again...

When I first heard the confirmation that one of my friends had stomach cancer, I was dumbfounded. I had known that he had an operation to address a malignant tumor, but since I moved to KSA I had no idea how bad it was.

So I wrote my friends that our friend, indeed, is losing his fight against stomach cancer. I wrote: Please pray for him that he makes it to another round. It hurts to say it, but if not, please pray for him that his soul will be freed from anger, despair, and regret for the time he has remaining.

I was glad that in the intervening months between the operation and his death my friend accepted his impending mortality and learned how to treasure whatever time he had left. Battista said: "The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they're still alive." I'm glad in some small way, he knew that I cared.

At his passing, I was reminded of this story – I don’t remember where I first learned of it – about a man visiting an old lady’s grave. When I read the obituary of our friend –

CARLOS MIGUEL BALUYUT
June 11, 1976 – January 10, 2005

I wouldn’t measure his life by the number of years that he lived. I’d like to focus on the “–” that represented the entirety of his life. Funny that in most cases we are so focused on the beginning and end we never look at the “between.”

I dare not write a testimonial because I fear it will not be the truest and most faithful representation of Miggy. All I can say is that I treasure all the good times, and only wish I could have helped out more during the bad. As in all things I wish I could have been a better person to Miggy while he was still alive. My heart goes out to all of those who had to watch and wait for a dear friend to end his days.

One lesson that his life has taught me is that we can never celebrate life too much. No one can stay the inevitability of death, but only to live life as best as we could.

In the middle of 2004, I heard the news that the wife of one of my close colleagues from the Namfrel days died in a road accident, leaving behind a child who hadn't even celebrated his second birthday. Late last month, my mother's youngest brother died.

I have no personal connection with the victims of the recent calamities (especially the ones closer to home who were overshadowed by the Indian Ocean tsunami), but I empathize with the members of the affected communities as they get through the trauma such a tragedy has wrought on their lives.

Life is precious. But even more precious are those moments we share with those whom we love, and those moments of clarity where we fully realize the hand of God in our lives.

I’ll say no more before my sorrow swallows me up in front of my desk.

To all who were honored to be called friends by Miggy, be true and love one another always.

Miggy, I'll be seeing you again, someday.

What we do today, right now, will have an accumulated effect on all our tomorrows. - Alexandra Stoddard -