Monday, July 18, 2011

Move It. Move In.

I'm moving. Yes I'm moving.

I've been saying this for the last thirteen days and yet nothing has happened.

I have finally equipped my own flat - I don't have everything yet, but I do have enough for my bedroom - except that I don't feel like moving in.

Work has been the center of my small universe and somehow it isn't the same when you close the doors and go home. I am squatting in a friend's flat - but I know this wouldn't last forever. I have to leave.

One of the reasons would probably have to do with the fact that my bathroom isn't completely fitted after I replaced the toilet. I would have to get that finished ASAP. But being indolent when it comes to these matters I will probably procrastinate, again.

I am thoroughly enjoying Riyadh - there is a lot of charm in this city and I haven't gone around a lot yet. Never mind the malls, even though it would be great to walk around in free air-conditioning. But, as of yet, there is still no place where I would hang my hat and call home.

Thursday, July 07, 2011

Solemn, Fail.

The thoughts themselves have faded into the cracks,
Stilled, unseemingly by the mind eager to please.
The morning runs at inspiration have run out of breath ---
The evening jaunts into ecstasy have gone haggard and dim.
Such lies we feed ourselves, never setting foot on truth's hallowed ground
Once the exuberance of ignorance palls, night comes a-stealing
Taking the wonder and smothering it with worries and dreams.
For dreams push ever forward, ever taking us from the moment
While worries burden us with the convenience of the mundane.
That tail of starlight will leave us eventually feeling flush
But when we close our eyes the dream offers no comfort
For life, ever constant and ravaging, invades our helpless nest.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Sudden Death

A man died in front of our factory as a result of major road accident. Another one may yet die from his injuries.

The highway that fronts us is a major road traveling northward and eastward - it is well-paved but does not have the features that makes other highways safer.

Death is like a thunderbolt - or in this case, like an accident that happens in a split second.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

After Hours

my background music: Bamboo

I am staring at the screen and no words come to mind.
Blank, devoid of anything original.
My only wish is that I had exchanged this lack of spark for endorphins from exercise rather than a long day of discussions.
But I am getting used to this.
If only I can settle my moving in to a new flat the soonest.
Yeah, maybe that will turn the trick.
Finally, payday is coming round the block.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

From the Heights



This is the sunset view from a hilltop overlooking the city of Cairo. I took this with my cellphone camera during my last trip to Egypt Dec 2009/Jan 2010. Not a great shot, given the limitations of my lens and the overall lighting. I just like to think what the view means - a) I actually got to travel to Egypt, even though it was mostly for work, and b) The view from any height has a sense of majesty.

It was Father's Day last Sunday and I found little time to think about my own father. It was almost half a lifetime ago when he passed away, and yet pausing to think about him on some basis is like looking at myself at the mirror for ten straight minutes. I don't have that kind of vanity. I just fall into the habit of acting and speaking the way I remember him doing. To honor him is to do right by what I was given. I may not have had the privileges of some, but I was privileged with the desire to learn.

So what's the connection with Egypt? Nothing really, except that I am happy to cross it off from the places I want to visit. One takeaway from being an expatriate worker is to enrich one's life and perspective from the viewpoints of one's hosts. Egypt takes pride in its ancient traditions. This is all well and good if that legacy is still active in this current generation.

Monday, June 20, 2011

On the Rails

I arrived in Riyadh in the full eye of a sandstorm. I traveled on Saturday afternoon from Dammam and was due in Riyadh in the early evening.

It was my first real ride on an independently-powered train (as opposed to the light rail systems used in mass transportation) and I would say IT WAS A BLAST.

Not an earthshaking thing by any means of course, but it satisfied my initial curiosity about trains. It also helps that some of my most enjoyable moments in movies are about trains or had trains as settings: Silver Streak, Murder on the Orient Express, Narrow Margin, Manchurian Horror Express (outside the Philippines, it was known simply as "Horror Express"), Before Sunrise, and Unstoppable, among others.

Of course it isn't as cool as the movies make them out to be, but Saudi trains are fine by me. Even better than cramped airplane seats. One can complain about the speed but trains are really safe and the best mode of transport overland. I can only deplore why trains are not better utilized in the Philippines but that is a story for another day.

My recent posting is more operational and conceptual - a fact that dawned upon me the first day I came to work. After several years of being in this line of work, deciding what to do becomes less of a chore than proceeding on how to do it, and how soon. Which is the fun part - my brain will take a little backseat while I stick my nose into all the goings-on.

Yes, things could go so wrong. Life has a way of righting the ship, or to use my railway metaphor, derailing is a normal part of life. Getting on the skids may be really tough, but it is important to stay on track and keep on chugging.

If you ask me the homesick question, I have found a wonderful answer: I always yearn to be beside the people I love most. For now I am taking a break from them. They are not encompassed in my immediate space, but they are still there, just the same. The countdown has started.

As for the Philippines? Never mind.

Postscript: I am aiming for a sort of travelogue but then I realize I'm not yet sufficiently mobile to comment. They say Riyadh has its own unique wonders. Let's see.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Mr. Potatohead

I have lain back several times on my hotel bed in this short week. Being in control of the TV has been a bit of a new thing again, really. Mind you, I have been sort of a couch potato in Manila, though mostly not in front of the TV, but the PC. Watching the tube means I only get to watch what the others get to watch. That means anything my nephew was watching - Playhouse Disney (Disney Junior) Nickolodeon, Animal Planet, Disney Channel, or whatever educational DVD that is playing.

Watching TV here can get to be cloying, since local content is something I don't understand and international content is limited to movie re-runs or watching CNN, the latter of which isn't so bad but one can get heartburn from watching all the depressing news in the world. The hotel does not carry Filipino channels except some public announcement channel - either based in Kuwait or Dubai. Watching that kind of stuff felt quaint, like seeing the plays I produced (haha, even I would say that my work is less than satisfying, at least for me).

Getting back control of the TV? I was expecting to be wowed, as all couch potatoes would, even though secretly in the back of their minds they know they would be disappointed.

Yup, you guessed it. TV has officially become boring.

Now, if only the hotel could hook up wi-fi access in our rooms instead of just the lobby cafe...

In Search of Models

I'm reading on the La Salle Centennial and I feel proud to be part of that heritage. It isn't just about basketball, of course. My road led me to almost becoming a La Salle Brother, once upon a time.

I am almost tempted to criticize something, as is my normal thing. It is no longer as droll to dwell on something one wants to change when the viewscope needs some cleanng. Yes, some inventory required in my life now.

For now, I will be content with what I have been given. Woody Allen puts it simply - eighty percent of success is showing up. All I have to do is be here, right now, present in body and in mind.

Can't worry too much about the state of the world. The world has gone on millions, billions of years without our intervention as a species. It will unvariably find a way to balance the equation even while we try our best to despoil it.

Can't worry about the state of the land in the Philippines. One day, if I ever get possessed by some need to validate my values, I will run for public office. Everybody's a critic now you can hardly find anyone who wishes to perform. Am in no rush to join that queue, so many others think privilege should come first.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Happy Returns

I shut down writing on this blog while I was in Manila. For those waiting on me to update on this space detailing my life in the Philippines, well, so sorry, this is supposed to be my expatriate blog, not a life journal (though of course it has been, like so, for a long time).

Facebook is the culprit. It has managed to make a mess of the long form of writing. It gives everybody a chance to express an opinion without thinking that stuff through. Fortunately for many, that is just enough for the kind of expression that they need.

I arrived in Saudi Arabia on Sunday morning around 3:00am local time, made my way out of the airport with six others who would join our company at 4:30am, and arrived at my temporary accommodation at around 5:00am. After a short nap and a shower, I immediately reported for work that same morning.

There is enough excitement in me to get started on my job, but I am realist enough to admit that this initial enthusiasm is not the best tool for me now. It should, naturally, fuel my drive while I am adjusting again to life in the Middle East. As with all things, excellence cannot be guaranteed by wishes and words, but must always be validated by action, day in and day out. I can occasionally let off the throttle to give me some rest, but I am ready to blaze some trails.

I won't be defined by my job. Perhaps my reluctance to do exactly so put in me a position to squander a lot of opportunities. I have put myself and others to grief for that - be that as it may, I have squeezed as much comfort and lessons to ensure that I will not be a cautionary tale. Some of the good I put into my life had made that possible, for which I am grateful.

For the next months, while I regain my bearings, I will aim for the job to define me.

There are no red shoes to wear, but in case I am lonely, I will close my eyes and tap my heels together three times, and think to myself, "There's no place like home..."

Keeping my fingers crossed.

Tuesday, November 02, 2010

I Survived

It's another rainy day here in Manila, one of many countless rainy days that characterize the All Saints/All Souls Days here in the Philippines. Apt that the world should weep while the souls of the dearly departed rest.

Restless could be the best way to describe how I feel. I wouldn't trade the Philippines for any other land - this is my own home soil - yet staying here makes me wish that I were far away.

It's been more than a month since I returned - I was planning to make a diary of sorts of my (mis)adventures in Manila since my return, but even that lost some of its appeal after some time. In the wake of misinformed posts on social networking media, getting into one's inner psyche for the appreciation of all isn't too healthy. If I wanted to do that, maybe I should launch my own reality show.

That being said, it still feels strange to be waking up each day in my own bed, whizzing into my own bowl, and easing into my own sofa watching cable from the TV I bought six years ago on my second electronics purchase in Saudi Arabia (the first being a handphone). Strange, but still very welcome, is the virtual omnipresence of moisture in the air, if not through the rain, through the humidity.

I MISSED MANILA. Not because there are people here who are very important to me, I literally miss the feel of being here. Of being home.

But now that I am here, isn't it ironic that I want to leave, again?


Thursday, September 23, 2010

Gayunpaman, Salamat

Makatagpo man ng kabiguan
Panindigan ang pagkakamali
At gayunpaman,
Salamat, Panginoon
sa dumating na pagkakataon
sa dakila Ninyong biyaya ng buhay
Ng pamilya at kaibigan
Ng saya at kalusugan
Ng mahimbing na tulog
At paggising sa bawa't bagong umaga.

Hindi magwawakas ang buhay
Patuloy pa rin ang ikot ng mundo
Magsanga man ang daang tinatahak -
Manahimik lamang at maging banayad
Sapagka't naghihintay lamang ang kapalaran
Upang ating hulmahin
At bigyan ng kabuluhan.


Seven months after I had let my heart go free of this place my body is finally physically leaving Saudi Arabia. Saturday evening, barring any hitches, I would board the plane and fly back to Manila.

I have struggled to harden my heart like stone but it is impossible.

Just as it has become the fount of my sorrows, this land and the people I have met in it are forever the source of my joy and my complete personhood.

I harbor no bitterness for the mistakes I have made and while others may deplore the consequences of my actions, I thank them for their concern. Life presents odds and ends to the stories that we write for ourselves. Today's episode may end badly, but faith and hope teach us there is always tomorrow.

After all, through all the difficulties and challenges of life, we are still here. I am still standing. And as long as I am here, I might as well get on with the rest of my life.

Sure, it can get scary. But that's the fun in it. If everything were handed to us on a plate, we'd stop appreciating the beauty and complexity of life.

The Good Book says, "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?" The lesson for me is - I don't have to understand. All I have to do is close my eyes, make a wish, and believe.

Balot man ng pighati at kaba ang puso ko ngayon, gayumpaman, salamat. Nagpapasalamat ako sa bawat sandali ng paghahanapbuhay ko rito. Salamat nagkatagpo tayo at naging bahagi ako ng buhay ninyo.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

In Darkness There is Hope


We have familiar experience of the order, the constancy, the perpetual renovation of the material world which surrounds us. Frail and transitory as is every part of it, restless and migratory as are its elements, still it abides. It is bound together by a law of permanence, and though it is ever dying, it is ever coming to life again. Dissolution does but give birth to fresh modes of organization, and one death is the parent of a thousand lives.

Each hour, as it comes, is but a testimony how fleeting, yet how secure; how certain, is the great whole. It is like an image on the waters, which is ever the same, though the waters ever flow. The sun sinks to rise again; the day is swallowed up in the gloom of night, to be born out of it, as fresh as if it had never been quenched.

Spring passes into summer, and through summer and autumn into winter, only the more surely, by its own ultimate return, to triumph over that grave towards which it resolutely hastened from its first hour.

We mourn the blossoms of May because they are to wither; but we know that May is one day to have its revenge upon November, by the revolution of that solemn circle which never stops--- which teaches us in our height of hope, ever to be sober, and in our depth of desolation, never to despair.
- John Henry Cardinal Newman

I have always found this short piece very inspiring, though strangely enough, I first read of it in William Peter Blatty's "The Exorcist."

Sunday, August 01, 2010

More Than Just A Sweet Dream



Have no decent video of this song. Excellent vocal work by Dianne Reeves and instrument track by David Benoit is so smooth in rising in counterpoint to her voice. One of the staples of my chill-out music during the late '80s, it became more important after we started using it as retreat music.

One thing for certain, my buddy Des used it for a mix-tape of songs he gave to his then-girlfriend (awww, so sweet!). Well, what happened afterward... let's just say it was a learning experience for both of them.

This is dedicated to my little nephew Jeremiah Angelo, who is turning three years old on August 2. One can only truly be home when surrounded by the people whom one loves and loves one best. Only in the land of the loving am I home.

It is natural that as he grows, he will have to deal with the evils of this world, and shadow will one day be cast over his life.

May that day be far from coming. We can only guard against it, as his elders, and trust that our example and the Lord's grace will be enough to guide him on his way.

Ah, worries. What a song and a memory bring. Yes, distress is but natural, to one who is not nourished by the air and water of his native land. I will sleep, and tomorrow, all my hopes will be more than just a sweet dream.

May these words take wing and go straight to heaven, for this supplicant desires nothing more right now than divine inspiration.

"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul." - Psalm 143:8

Thursday, July 29, 2010

It Isn't Just Enough to Mouth the Words

As I'm writing this piece today I am gently reminded by similar scenes at the close of each episode of "Doogie Howser, M.D." featuring Neil Patrick Harris. I am certain I don't have his IQ, but I would like to think that as an individual who has gone through life the normal (though at times, non-conformist) way, I'll have more mature sensibilities than him.

Or so I would like to believe.

Anyway, I have observed since the advent of more interactive social networking sites my capability to churn out blog entries has been clipped significantly. Gone are the links and other stuff I normally take note of. They're on Facebook. Gone are the smart-ish quotes (they've been posted as shout-outs.). Music videos? Jokes?

That irks me and disturbs me to some degree.

Yes, it's fun to have an audience out there, an audience which is helpless in chossing what stuff you are shoveling. In this case, we could be lucky if you one is some sort of internet maven who can look for unusual but interesting links. I have one such friend, though at times the posts are great and funny, they keep on coming in one after the other, as if the person cannot live without posting something. I'm not derisive, but in the minds of other people whose interests do not intersect, that could be sickening.

(Which reminds me, I'm so glad I've become my own censor since Facebook has become such a G-rated site, it could almost be called G-A-Y. No offense, everyone wants to be happy, right?)

There is that, so sometimes wishing for something gets you an unwanted surfeit of it.

How social networking has risen in the past few years has, for some reason, trivialized the whole process of communication. Our public selves have seemingly grown larger, but then again, our capacity to invent identities online also makes the process hollow.

Words are cheapened with all of this free communication.

It isn't just enough to mouth the words now, you have to think back whether you really mean them.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

So Now I am the Boss, eh?

... And I didn't even vote.

Earlier today, Benigno Simeon Aquino III, or "Noynoy" (now, comes the dreaded, somewhat catchy and absurd, "P-Noy," signifying his moniker for his administration) was sworn in as the 15th President of the Republic of the Philippines.

This new administration is conscious of its symbols. In an obvious break with the symbols of the recent regime, it has done away with the trappings of power and aspired for a simple, street-smart austerity. Or so how the PR handlers of P-Noy make it out to be.

While I watched this morning - the live satellite feed timing into right nicely between my morning shower and breakfast - I could not help but be moved. Yes, I am totally aware that our next President spent his entire life as a virtual mediocrity, always overshadowed by the legacy of his parents, and not even having the courtesy of going against the grain. In this his younger sister Kris seems to have inherited all the bravura of their late father.

But this mediocrity, strangely enough, is so indicative of my own generation of Filipinos, whose most significant inroads to the worldwide consciousness have been drama queens and starlets, boxing champs and sex scandals. When he took to the dais, and with his plaintive tone addressed the nation and the world, it was as if he took the form and shape of WHO WE WERE - a generation lost, weary of self-doubt, wanting both the answers and the relief and not having to know them or what they cost.

It was the voice of a generation wanting to be validated, wanting to hope against the very real and tangible taste of disappointment.

It was the voice which propelled the dream of EDSA.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Post-Traumatic Therapy



Decompresing almost the whole day after that disappointing loss in the NBA Finals. The Boston Celtics had it in their hands, but they took their collective feet off the pedal. I hate the fact that the Lakers won (and in such an ugly fashion), but the part of me that respects good basketball when it's played says the Black Mamba and his crew, especially El Matador Pau Gasol, deserve their props. I still hate them though.

Saw Korean vampire film Thirst in the afternoon and I'm squeamish as anyone can get (which is why I did not choose to take up the medical profession), and there were enough scenes for me to whimper (picture that, and that is even scarier than the movie). The movie lost steam with a subplot in the middle, but for the squeam scenes alone, the movie was cool! Bonus points for the leading female star for looking like Jennifer Lee of the Viva Hot Babes.

It's the evening and I'm already programming myself for the grind tomorrow. No need to be hopelessly obscure. Today on the whole, is disjointed, and there's no reason to fix it. I don't have pretend to know what it is, since I haven't got a clue.

Segue the Boys from Liverpool with this rip-roaring track. Great piano riff from John, Paul's bass is pounding, and George's guitar solo screams at me from the speakers.

Now if I can only bite someone head's off, if only figuratively, to complete my catharsis.

Rrrrooowwrrrr!!!

Monday, June 14, 2010

Looky-Looky...

Chilling to the sounds of: The Beatles
Literally chilled by: Zamil Classic Premier (beats the 40C heat anytime)
Chillaxing event to look forward to: Game 6 stomping by the Celtics on the Lakers (Wednesday early morning Riyadh time). Keeping my fingers crossed anyway.
Cool thing but I'm not proud of it: Stealing wi-fi access from my next-door neighbor.

Switched desings to keep it fresh. However, keeping it real in terms of the green theme - I like the Celtics, but I like other green things too - like, uh... (pause)... my high school? The Green Lantern? The Green Arrow? Regan O'Neill's snot?

Methinks Blogger is trying its best to keep relevant in the face of other social networking media. Still, too much useless information comes out that doesn't really make any sense in the end. Sticking to blogging, thank you.

That will be the day when I switch to Twitter. Heck, one day I may eat these words. Keep posted then.

Making Ability Count

Don't measure yourself by what you have accomplished, but by what you should have accomplished with your ability - John Wooden

Almost lost in the hubbub of the NBA Finals and the opening of the 2010 World Cup was the passing of a legend: UCLA basketball coach John Wooden. I didn't know a whole lot of his life story and achievements until later in my teens, but I do remember him a lot because basketball, much more than excessive alchohol, raucous singing, or womanizing, was the family religion, at least among us men.

Before I was born, it was the main way my father and his brothers, my uncles, displayed their machismo and bravado. I heard once that one of the older brothers, my Tiyong Salvador "Badong" de Guzman, was a highly-rated player and was invited to the national team. During those days, basketball was just reaching the apex of its popularity and there was hardly any money in it. I suspect though, that my Tiyong Badong was making the most of his time as a Customs employee and the cost of paying for the expenses without a backer was hardly appealing (since this was post World War II and the college leagues were just growing, and no hint of commercial leagues yet.)

Anyhow, basketball filled our conversations. My oldest brother had the unique experience of playing basketball camp in his teens when our father was still working for the Goodyear company. My brother had a beautiful release on his jump shot - he was schooled by our father and an American employee at Goodyear encouraged him to develop it further - only when I was watching footage of Pistol Pete Maravich did I notice the similarities.

But this is not a case of "my grandfather had a bigger, better whatever."

In any case, even though basketball was a test of character, all of us kids were directed to hit the books - any fool can dribble a basketball, but not anyone can cure cancer. Or so it went. We went out and played, but we had to study.

We had a backdoor basketball court (roughly halfcourt) where I learned the game and watched others play. My other uncles, my mother's brothers, were far more often at our house and so were their kids, my cousins.

Basketball - and sport itself - are not analogies of life. Sports are life. They offer an insight as to how you approach life. You could guess at somebody's character as to how he conducted himself on the court - never mind his skill (as talent and coordination is unevenly distributed) - but how he relates with his teammates and his opponents.

We love sport because through our sports heroes we can live those values we hold dear vicariously through them. Courage under difficult circumstances, achieving harmony in reaching a goal, practicing continuously to perfect one's skills, playing by the rules and knowing when to bend them, oh-so-carefully-but-cleverly in your team's favor. How we perceive our players and the ones we relate to is also an indication of how well we understand the game, and in turn, how winning on the court, while not the end-all and be-all of our life, could come pretty close in achieving one's personal high-definition personality picture.

The spirit of this post following the first Boston Celtics championship in twenty-odd years still reflects my estimation for people and the game.

You respect talent but don't subordinate your goals or your personhood to it; you take the talent that you have and compete to the fullest of your ability; you dish out the punishment that you can take, and acknowledge that pain is part of the process of winning (or even losing for that matter); you shouldn't stop yourself from trying to win them all but when the losses come, accept that you can't get them all; and when the struggle is done and whether you win or lose, you shake hands with the guys on the other side.

And, one succinct lesson that should always echo for all of us (especially me) - don't settle, don't ever settle. A win is not a win if it was handed out to you. In the end, the prizes lose their luster when they come too easily. Find a challenge and keep to it, never flog yourself for wanting too much but rather for not appreciating the degree of difficulty in time. "A man's got to know his limitations," so says Dirty Harry Callahan. But don't let those limitations, on the other hand, define your lack of desire to do the best that you can.

John Wooden really had it figured out back then.

Just a small postscript since I avoided commenting on the present political situation in the Philippines ---

I may not like Noynoy Aquino, or even profess to have the least amount of admiration for him, but he won the presidency fair and square. He is not his parents and he can't lay claim to their achievements. Which is all the better for him - he has the opportunity to chart his own destiny, free from the "what-could-have-beens" of his father and the "better-times-than-what-we-remembered" of his mother. He may not have the abiliity or sincerity of either, but he does have a chance to make the most of his time.

And this is his time, not theirs. And if we are to make it worth his while, we should make it our time too.

Sunday, June 06, 2010

Typical


In tribute to John Nash, and to illustrate the plight of the worst kind of nerdom.

Sometimes it sucks to be me.

Tuesday, June 01, 2010

Value

Every positive value has its price in negative terms... the genius of Einstein leads to Hiroshima.
-- Pablo Picasso