Yes, poetry is one of those elusive joys in a busy lifestyle, for me at least. I think this one was from sophomore year in college...produced after having watched the teen movie of the same title.

I hate the way You call my name
And the way You touch my heart,
I hate the way You make me whole
And then tear me apart.

I hate the fact that only You
Can really make me smile,
Yet I hate You so much that it makes me hurt
And even makes me cry.

I hate the way You're always right
and tell it to my face,
I hate the way You open my eyes
I hate it when I can't escape.

I hate it when You're not with me
And the fact that You are my all,
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate You
Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.



Yup, and it ain't about a boy :), maybe next time.

It's been a tiring day, but full of surprises. Who knew management could be so enjoyable? Never in my wildest, darkest dreams would I find myself managing people (little people to be correct), and find joy in having them benefit from it. I can't say I'm a natural or I'm especially gifted but I CAN do it, and willingly learn to do it better and that's enough. Do you have any buried talents/abilities that are yet to be dug up? What are the things you can do to unravel the mysteries of your heart and mind? 

It's been months, years. Nothing has worked for longer than three weeks. The B12, fish oil and iron supplements have not done anything but succeeded in making me a bit bloated. Neither has exercising and getting lots of sunshine. Reading and praying have always been a given, but now I find myself whispering "Hey, what gives?" a lot to the ceiling. I think it's something deep, deep inside. Like, really deep inside. Or maybe I just need to get a dog, or a cat, or at the very least a tiny mammal. Or perhaps my restless nights are just a response to the kind and quality of awake hours I spend. Yeah, let's explore that. 

Of Honor and Tables

Once there were four tables, and they were called thus: Cold table, Business table, Happy table, and Art table. They gained their names by how they were utilized and offered their woody services to the people who used them. And that is how they got to be known and defined.

Now unbeknownst to their animate masters, the four tables bickered frequently amongst each other about who was the best and most honorable table. Cold table would say:
"I'm always clean, never full of spit, I never grow a mold, and rarely do I get dusty".
"But that's because nobody ever sits with you!" says Business table. "Me, all the smartest and most eloquent gather 'round to talk about wonderful intelligent things. And I always have important documents to bear and behold unlike all of you."
"I really couldn't care less because I'm always surrounded by beauty and colors and whatnot. Talent and skills happens here, baby. Just look at these kaleidoscopic battle scars on my surface." says Art Table.
As for Happy Table, he had no time to bicker and argue or even talk to the other tables, because he was always busy with people and children, which made him feel really pleased with himself.

The four tables held their reputation with pride and felt their whole existence revolved around it. Then one day, the unthinkable happened: the place they were in was renovated and their owner moved them from their original places and positions. Now Cold Table became Food Table, so it was never without people making a fuss and a mess around it; Business Table became Stock Table, so instead of excited busy-ness, all the boring stuff was dumped on it;  Art Table became Paperwork Table, enough said, and Happy Table, well, it became so worn out that it was sawed to pieces and recycled into a cabinet. And when all the four tables got over the shock of their worst nightmares coming true, they eventually managed to warm up to their new roles. They were mildly surprised to find their owner still carefully cleaning and wiping them every day, when they had felt their self-respect go down the drain with their original functions. Their owner diligently fixed the occasional loose screw and buffed them up when they needed it, even Cabinet. One time, they were all joined up for a big party and got equally messy, filled with all kinds of people and confetti (bags in Cabinet's case), and strewn with business cards.

In the end these four tables came to see that honor is never really gained, especially through the things you do, but it is something given and received. And so it was how they learned it was simply an honor to be a table....

...and for me, it's simply an honor to be loved :D. You do the math.

Recently, I've had two of my wisdom teeth removed, like, a couple of weeks ago recent. The last one was an impacted tooth and I'd been eager to have it pulled out ASAP because of the complications I've heard about it. Plus, it LOOKED complicated, only a third of the crown is showing, quite freaky.

So I go to the dentist two Sundays ago and 20 minutes later, voila! Tooth out, antibiotics in. I remained a little sore for three days, and unable to eat properly for a week.
Come Sunday and I was confident my gums are more..uh, firmer, so I eat some tempura veggies and prawn, move around a little bit more (okay, so I did one or two random leaps), then I tasted something bittersweet and very wet gush around the left side of my mouth. I rushed to the mirror and to my utmost horror thick blood was pouring out fast. There was no time to think if it was painful (actually I felt no pain but was not numb either), I grabbed a roll of tissue, jammed it down my gums and laid down for a few minutes. For the sake of brevity, I will ruin an interesting (really!) story and just say it was one of the most frightful things I've ever experienced in my life. The best way I can put into words what I was feeling that time was..to be experiencing something so unpleasant and to have absolutely no power to stop it. I felt so helpless and hopeless which increased the stress even more. Lying down and staying still like a rock slowed the bleeding down but it didn't stop it. I move my head just an inch or so and blood comes flowing out like I was hit behind the head with a dospordos (no, I don't know if that would actually happen). Worst thing was, I was alone, and without prepaid load on my cellphone. I really didn't want to go out asking for help through blood stained teeth and freak strangers out.

Okay, to make a long story shorter, I was confined at a hospital in Cainta in the morning (I was bleeding for around 12 hours) when the dentists took one look at me and compassionately (not necessarily calmly) accompanied me to the nearest hospital to be hooked on IV fluids for I haven't eaten. The doctor diagnosed it as an infection.

Prayer had been my greatest ally. Before, during, and after staying in the hospital. I committed to work that day because my boss had to sort out important legal stuff (no, that didn't sound right, basta, it was important) and I felt very uncomfortable reneging from that commitment, I was practically panicking when I realized I couldn't immediately contact anyone and had to wait for some time for help to come, I felt guilty for freaking friends out and waking them up at the middle of night, I felt annoyed for being so weak and stupidly unable to contact the outside world, I felt ashamed, and I was afraid. Yet in the midst of all this, I felt loved, I really did, despite being a little dizzy and unable to think and feel properly. I felt loved because I felt that I was being treated for something critical and important, and I'm not talking about the wisdom tooth. From feeling the blood soak through the tissue fiber and waiting for help to come, to being accompanied by faint-gutted friends at midnight, to being alone in the hospital, to sharing the Gospel in the ward, to being injected with dubious amounts of antibiotics and whatnot and waiting anxiously for comforting messages and visits, something more than the IV fluids were at work, and it was more at my spirit than my gummy blood vessels. Did I fear to die unready? Did I tempt myself to disbelieve God's personal promises for me? Did I doubt my Lord's sovereignty? Was I making an idol out of work and witnessing? Was I bent on praising the Lord no matter what happens like I keep saying during safe and happy times? Was I letting pride wall me off from people who care about me and want to share life with me?
Lots of stuff to think about, and one thing's for certain, it really wasn't just a physical infection that got healed during that time.   
  

Mahahaha, AS IF I was going to close my multiply site... AS If! So I take this chance to share a song, this sweet in between moment of wisdom-tooth-surgery-recovery-time, for I haven't been able to do certain things properly (like eating, carrying heavy stuff, saying my 's's, and singing..well, the last is quite relative :D). Two down, two (or 3 more to go), now that's a lot of teeth to pull out.. Here are the lyrics:

You break the bread that I give you
Take it apart until I've none
For myself, but you multiply it
into a thousand pieces

You take the life that I offer
Take it apart 'til I've none but you
And you make your promises
only to fulfill them in time

And I don't want to be near you
If I cannot have all of you
If what it takes to be near you
Is to break my bread then let it be.

No, I don't want to fear you
When I cannot touch your face
If what it takes to take hold of you
Is to lose my life so let it be.

I had recently committed “facebook suicide” and I’ll soon be deleting this Multiply account as well but not for the same reasons as I did my Facebook page. 

Unlike my Facebook ordeal, I got out because it was getting a little too painful for my psychological well-being (then got back on because even to my closest friends it seemed that I only half existed without it)….this however will be causing pain as I forever obliterate my public personal online presence, well, so to speak. The thing is, I need to make space for something else, meaning I’ll still be using Multiply but not as a personal blog-and-video-and-interests-and- photo-sharing network anymore.

So what’s the point of putting this up? Nothing as useful as to just inform you all as if you are my raving fans following every major and trivial decision I make… But don’t worry non-existent fans, I’ll add you up (as someone/something different) soon again as soon as I settle down, grieve, and recover, so keep watch! :D

Just to give you a heads up, I’ll be making space for art (in the general sense), realizing I’d like to pursue something I really want to other than the Day Job, which of course, I enjoy all the same. :D  there.

Here's a few snippets from being with kids 8 hours a day, 5 times a week (and of course I won't be using their real names): 

4 year old Timi, the only boy who talks in straight-ish Tagalog: 

"Alam mo? May plant na hypnoshroom..." 

"Ayayay! Kamali!..." 

Me: "Nononono, don't wash the brush in the dispenser, use the bathroom..."

Timi: "Bathroom? But I have shoes...." 

7 year old Anna: 

"Sclera. Yeah, that's what the whites of our eyes are called, I get it mixed up with the pupil...." 

7 y/o Anita: 

"Teacher, there's dengue in your bathroom." 

Me: You wanna go to the competition? 

7 y/o Joshua: I'm going to mars! I'm going to ride a plane to go there! I'm going to go to outer space! 

7 y/o Jane: You can't go to mars! It's too far away, you can't go there, that's really not possible....(in the sweetest condescending voice :)

Me: If I gave you a seal as a pet, will you keep it? (we were coloring a seal) 

5 y/o Marko: No. 

Me: Why not? 

Marko: I'll throw it. 

Me: Why!? You can't throw a seal, it's too big!

Marko: My daddy will throw it. My daddy can...carry heavy seals.

And of course, little Jim who addresses me with "Hiya, teach! I'm done, teach!" and "Yes, sir!" 

Hay God, thank you for the gift of children, laughter, and craziness :D

Perhaps the best thing about being a Jesus - follower is knowing you've got a big God. Bigger than life, bigger than any problem, bigger than failures, bigger than bullies, bigger than history, bigger than global warming. You name it. 

Bigger 

Every step I take there is a shudder

seeping into my bones until I can no longer move

Every move they make gives me a doubt 

telling my convictions they have no place here 

Everything I hold on to go fading 

of who I am and what I can give with the things they say

And every word is cause for irresolution 

that shakes the very ground that I am standing on 

But You are bigger than this 

The one who made the oceans that will stand aside for You 

And I will fill my view 

Of what I know of You 

Every step is reason for another 

excuse to run away from my refuge of you 

Every move they make gives me a doubt 

making my predictions seem less than they appear

Oh we've all got our giants, for now, for me, it's them 

But I won't be staying here when you're telling me to go 

'Coz You are bigger than this 

The one who made the oceans that will stand aside for You 

And I will fill my view 

Of what I know of You 

You are bigger than this 

The one who make walls fall down with a blaze of trumpets' sound 

And I will remind my heart 

Of what You have done

Yeah You are bigger than this

You are bigger than this

You are bigger than this

it's what I know of You. 

Take two. And I'm not talking about the video. Please watch out for "foreseed" which should be "foresaw". :)

I wrote this song as I was going through a hard time and I was feeling, well, alone. 

It was the same thing that led me to first seek out Jesus and He still doesn't fail up to now :)  

Lonely Night

Oh lonely night you softly place your lips on mine and I do not mind

For I've got nothing to entertain and to pour my heart out for this time

For I think it would numb the pain

For somehow, I don't want to feel

Oh, I've been wanting to ask you how You felt,

You who were left alone on your loneliest night

Oh did you want to numb the pain too? Or run away from your fight?

But I know how the story ends, that fateful night

when you refused to run 

And I know it was for me you took that lonely walk, 

so that you could hold my hand

on this lonely night. 

Oh lonely night you softly place your lips on mine and I do not mind

For I've got nothing to entertain and to pour my heart out for this time

Oh, I've been wanting to ask you how You felt,

You who were left alone on your loneliest night

Oh did you want to numb the pain too? Or run away from your fight?

But I know how the story ends, that fateful night

when you refused to run 

And I know it was for me you took that lonely walk, 

so that you could hold my hand

on this lonely night. 

The night you knelt for me

In love, bled love for me

What a lonely place it must be 

to be torn from your paradise, 

But you, you foresaw me

Reaching for your outstretched hands

and lonely I'll no longer be 

when I'm with you in paradise. 

Blind. Diseased. Confused. Paralyzed. Demonized. The people Jesus chose to showcase his power and goodness. :) 

   

He Wants to Comfort You

by Max Lucado

My child’s feelings are hurt. I tell her she’s special. My child is injured. I do whatever it takes to make her feel better.

My child is afraid. I won’t go to sleep until she is secure.

I’m not a hero. I’m not a superstar. I’m not unusual. I’m a parent. When a child hurts, a parent does what comes naturally. He helps.

And after I help, I don’t charge a fee. I don’t ask for a favor in return. When my child cries, I don’t tell her to buck up, act tough, and keep a stiff upper lip. Nor do I consult a list and ask her why she is still scraping the same elbow or waking me up again.

I’m not a prophet, nor the son of one, but something tells me that in the whole scheme of things the tender moments described above are infinitely more valuable than anything I do in front of a computer screen or congregation. Something tells me that the moments of comfort I give my child are a small price to pay for the joy of someday seeing my daughter do for her daughter what her dad did for her.

Moments of comfort from a parent. As a father, I can tell you they are the sweetest moments in my day. They come naturally. They come willingly. They come joyfully.

If all of that is true, if I know that one of the privileges of fatherhood is to comfort a child, then why am I so reluctant to let my heavenly Father comfort me?

Why do I think he wouldn’t want to hear about my problems? (“They are puny compared to people starving in India.”)

Why do I think he is too busy for me? (“He’s got a whole universe to worry about.”)

Why do I think he’s tired of hearing the same old stuff?

Why do I think he groans when he sees me coming?

Why do I think he consults his list when I ask for forgiveness and asks, “Don’t you think you’re going to the well a few too many times on this one?”

Why do I think I have to speak a holy language around him that I don’t speak with anyone else?

Why do I not take him seriously when he questions, “If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:11)

Why don’t I let my Father do for me what I am more than willing to do for my own children?

I’m learning, though. Being a parent is better than a course on theology. Being a father is teaching me that when I am criticized, injured, or afraid, there is a Father who is ready to comfort me. There is a Father who will hold me until I’m better, help me until I can live with the hurt, and who won’t go to sleep when I’m afraid of waking up and seeing the dark.

Ever. And that’s enough.

Every morning I am greeted with miserably irksome thoughts, you'd think all that we have to do in school was enough to think of.

So how am I going to get through the semester alive, when everything just seems overwhelming and impossible? By thinking positive of course.

Though I might forget, God never does.
Though I get tired, God never sleeps.
Though my strength is limited, God's can move mountains.
When I get sick, God will sustain.
When I am lazy and procrastinate, God will rebuke.
When I make wrong choices, God will remind.
When I make wrong turns, God will guide.
Though circumstances are uncontrollable, God is sovereign.
If at the very end, I still fail, God comforts and says "You still have me"  

Look at the birds in the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.
Are you not much more valuable than they?
Matthew 6:26

Six Signs of Stress:

1. Procrastinating
2. Lack of Appetite
3. Over Eating
4. Sleeping too much
5. Overdoing activities (cleaning, reading books)
6. Skin irritations

    These were all true for me at least. Academic responsibilities, obligations, relationships, ministry, and my thesis (I give it a special place in the sentence) have begun to take its toll, and I'm slowly losing many of the things that come with a peaceful mind and heart. The week was, quoting Ate Flo, a roller coaster ride, and I finally cracked and cried - something I haven't done for a long time. I wondered why and it struck me that half of my "stress signs" were not really signs at all but a result of the stress, rather, they were ways for me to escape. I slept, I ate, I cleaned furiously around the house, (which my aunt and cousin could probably attest to) and of course, I delayed facing emotionally burdensome activities. And I had to wonder why now? What was it that kept me from cracking last week? or the week before that? or the week before that? One most crucial thing - reveling in God's presence. I've forgotten to draw from the source of it all, refill my vat of strength, replenish my supply of power-giving, revitalizing fuel. I tried to sustain myself with my own kind of fuel, and for a little while I managed, but it was not the right one for my mind-body-soul system for it did not and could not attend to the real problem - the lost energy, the failing form. It was kind of like junk food - self-effort provides us with calories (energy) but empty calories none the less, and sooner or later, we'll get very sick from it. Only from God can come genuine rest, peace, joy and satisfaction.

Better is one day in your courts, than a thousand elsewhere.
Psalm 84: 10

Find rest, O my soul, in God alone.
Psalm 62: 5 

I love to talk, madaldal ako by nature. Mahilig ako magkwento about anything under the sun. Merong disadvantages, meron din namang advantages. But for the past few years, I believe I've trained myself to limit my words per day, so people that I know now might not entirely agree. Recently though, I've noticed something very odd that I can no longer ignore. I have a problem with verbally communicating to people. Have you spotted it yet?

I've come to the conclusion that I now speak three languages: Filipino, English and Taglish.
And that I'm most fluent in the latter.

All my life I've had plenty of opportunities to speak either only straight English or straight (not necessarily pure) Filipino. Back in the UAE (aka Dubai, but isn't) I'd speak English with my foreign friends, with my friends from Cebu and Visayas, with my cousins abroad and with strangers even. At home I'd speak in Filipino, probably a bit of Batangueno, and with my friends who like me, speak Filipino by default. And I'd relish the times that I can speak in my mother tongue (still of course with a hint of English when I can't remember the words) because it's just so comfortable and natural.

Moving to the Philippines brought about a worry that I might cease to speak fluent english. But apparently, that wasn't the only thing to worry about. I realized with my 'Boog' encounter, how bad my Filipino had become. Boog spoke perfect Filipino, I vaguely remember him saying "Herusalem" and "sugo", and I was rattled that I could not speak in equally good Filipino. In fact, I had to put in extra effort to get certain words that had been unused out of me. This time, it felt strange, as if I was not being myself. It was the same when I had a conversation with Kuya Phil, our pastor (who is American), two weeks ago. I was choking out the words and spluttering in half american, half Filipino accent. I learned how to carry conversations in straight english during my stays in L.A. and with friends who had strong American accents, hence I find it hard to speak without it.  I used to pride myself in being able to switch between the two languages whenever I needed to with very little difficulty.

I've had moments of distress realizing what is becoming of our beloved language, which I can't even use to write for the life of me. And to think, I study in UP. Well, that may not be a very good defense seeing as how I learned fluent Taglish (which is not to be confused with Conyo) in the campus. If I speak in straight English, with the American-ish accent, I'll be stared at. If I speak in straight Filipino, I'll be stared at. So what am I to do? Speak in the language everyone is speaking.

I muse about the possibilities in which this can go about. My hypothesis is that though probably a small percentage of Filipinos in the Philippines speak English by choice, they are the ones who are bound to have better education and eventually become the leaders in the country (still, I'm recklessly generalizing here). Either people do something about it (like make it a law for the President to talk in Filipino during speeches) and make reviving or at least reinstating the untarnished Filipino language a priority or we might soon be seeing the day Filipino, the language, will be considered dead. Though then we can probably make Cebuano the national language when that day comes. Hehe.