Personal opinions which do not embody the resolution or determination of the specific case before me. Expressions of my opinion which go beyond the facts before and therefore are individual views of author of the opinion and not binding to subsequent circumstances as persoanal precedent.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

obituary 33 AD

JESUS CHRIST, 33, of Nazareth, died Friday on Mount Calvary, also known as Golgotha, the place of the skull.

He was persecuted by the Romans, denied thrice by his most trusted follower, abandoned by his disciples, and crucified by order of Pontius Pilate.

The causes of his death: crucifixion, extreme exhaustion, severe torture, loss of blood.

The ultimate cause: our salvation.

Jesus Christ, a descendant of Abraham, was a member of house of David. He was the son of the late Joseph, a humble carpenter of Nazareth, and Mary, His devoted mother.

Jesus was born in a modest stable, in the city of Betlehem, Judea.

He is survived by his mother Mary, numerous apostles, and many other followers.

Jesus was self-educated and spent most of His adult life working as a Teacher. He also worked occassionally as a Medical Doctor, and it is reported that he cured many patients. Up until the time of his death, Jesus was teaching and sharing the Good News, healing the sick, comforting the grieving, touching the lonely, feeding the hungry, and helping the poor.

Jesus was most noted from telling parables about his Father's Kingdom and performing miracles., such as feeding more than 5,000 people with only five loaves of bread and two fish, and healing a man born blind.

On the day before his death, he joined his disciples for the Last Supper celebrating the Passover feast, at which he foretold his death.

The body was quickly buried in a stone grave, not even his own, donated by Joseph of Arimathea, a close friend of the family. By order of Pontius Pilate, a boulder was placed in front of the tomb. Roman soldiers were put on guard preventing everyone from paying their respects.

In lieu of flowers, the family rquested that everyone try to live as Jesus did. Donations may be sent to anyone in need.

* original text taken from an e-mail, with revisions for the writer's reflection.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

"my new philosophy" ...Kristen Chenoweth FUNNY! (playin on my mp3)

Spoken: Sally: Oh yeah? That’s what you think!

Schroeder: What?

Sally: That’s my new philosophy. Oh yeah? That’s what you think! Schroeder: Well, why are you telling me?

Sally: What?

Schroeder: WHY are you telling me?

Sally: Why are you telling me… I like it! That’s a good philosophy. Why are you telling me? WHY are you telling me?

Sally: Why are you telling me: my new philosophy. The teacher gave a D on last week’s homework! She said, “Miss Sally Brown, your grades are goin’ down.” I should have told her-

Schroeder: Your new philosophy?

Sally: My new philosophy.
*imitates teacher* “Miss B?”
I’m she.
“Look, see.” A D?
A D.
Well, why are you telling me? And that’s my new philosophy!

Schroeder: That’s your new philosophy?

Sally: Why are you telling me- my new philosophy!

Schroeder: That’s great, Sally, but I’ve gotta go practice Chopin’s Nocturn in B flat minor…

Sally: No! I like it! No! That’s a good philosophy… No! No! No!

Schroeder: That’s your new philosophy, huh?

Sally: Yes! *gasps* I mean, no! Just like a busy bee, each new philosophy can fly from tree to tree and keep me moving. When Life’s a dizzy maze on alternating days I choose a different phrase!

Schroeder: Your new philosophy.

Sally: My new philosophy.

Schroeder: Sally! Some philosophies are simple: “Man does not live by bread alone.” Some philosophies are clear:

Sally: “Leave your massage at the sound of the tone”?

Both: Some philosophies pick and choose deciding what goes in, and

Schroeder: Some take a lifetime! Sally: Mine take a minute!

Schroeder: But Sally, anything that takes only a minute can’t be very lasting! For instance, Beethoven took over two years to complete his brilliant Ninth Symphony.

Sally: No! Schroeder: I can’t stand it!

Sally: *In whiney voice* I can’t stand it! I LIKE IT!!!

Sally: It’s like a guarantee, my new philosophy. And things are sure to be a whole lot brighter!

Sally: Oh yeah? That’s what you think! Why are you telling me? No! I can’t stand it!

Sally: Now life is free and easy, much more pihlosopheezy whith my brand new-

Sally: You know, someone has said that we should live each day as if it were the last day of our life…


Sally: Clearly, some philosophies aren’t for all people…

Sally: And THAT’S my new philosophy!

Thursday, April 06, 2006

not getting mad, but only getting even...

and so after finding myself under that one surreal circumstance of finding my "not expecting it still exists" year-old blog last night, i opened up my machine whore, do my usual drill: check my email, (office and personal), say hi to my "almost" housemate, popped in christian bautista in my player (really good performer, modern basil valdez), fixed a cup of coffee with my baon toasts (i'm fond of dunking it in the hot liquid... reminds me of my childhood days at home), then opened my blog...

aaahhhh... today i'm officially starting (or restarting) my blog

what do i get to write... nothing fancy, just my thoughts.

no intention to impress, but more to affect,

no intention to infuriate, but more to stir sensibilities

as if i still have no deadlines to meet, i'll start this day with an entry

so freaking hot outside, having no available car today, i braved the metro traffic commuting (is there such a word), in other words through public transport. i flagged down a fx (asian utility vehicle-AUV: wonder why its called that way?) en route to Baclaran. i was sitting beside the driver when i realized that the fx's airconditioning was not properly working. The temperature outside was scorching hot, and being enclosed in a moving crate made of metal with warm bodies inside, made worse by poor ventilation can make even the desert camel dehydrated.

and so i politely ask the driver if he can adjust the airconditioning as i noticed that it was not turned to its full cooling capacity.

the old driver looked at me, obviously annoyed, placed his hand in one of the airconditioning chutes and said, "malamig naman huh?".

i looked around, and saw all the passengers sweating profusely, everyone trying to cool themselves with make shift fans, from folded papers, table napkins, and even bus tickets (i pity this one). still i kept my cool.. and asked the driver, reasoning that it still feels warm. he shrugged and gave me a cold reply, "gumagana naman huh.. kung naiinitan ka kumuha ka nang taxi".

at that time i felt that every one on board was looking at me, waiting for my reaction. not to ruin my day, i remarked "mas malakas pa po hininga ko dito e, pero sige magtataxi na lang KAMI", then i motioned that i'll get off his moving metal coffin.

to my surprise everyone else alighted from the van, leaving the driver dumbfounded. in the middle of naia road, stood his empty fx with all doors opened, while everyone of us were smirking and walking away from the piece of junk (and i'm not referring to the van).

enraged, he was shouting invectives at us while trying to close all the doors of his van. we were lucky a new hi-lander van plying the same route passed, flagged it down, and we all went in.

sitting comfortably inside, enjoying the cool air, a lady co-passenger (the one who used bus tickets for a fan) smiled at me, and remarked, "salamat huh, ang init talaga dun". i smiled back and noticed her carefully folding the bus tickets and tucking it inside his bag side pockets.

revival... my rebirth

I was chatting with my "almost" housemate (that will have to be explained with another entry), while i was taking my lunch (errrr... dinner actually), after a couple of meetings and back-breaking work behind my pc that made me lifeless like the cold sandwich i'm trying to push down my throat, when he ("almost" housemate) shared to me his blog site.

Ah the joys of blogging, and true, i really am fond of reading other people's blogs. I was reacting to his entries, and had a few discussions as for the topics he eloquently presented (canned applause here...), when i felt envious that he gets to have a blog when i aint. I secretly made a resolution that i'll create a blog, so to speak record what i can't speak of aloud (for a number of reasons), but seems to find no time or even the thought of creating one.

But the resentment of not having one is slowly creeping in every nerve of my body, that i feel restless. Can't concentrate on my work, even if i have deadlines due tomorrow (hope my boss doesn't get to read this), staring blankly on the spreadsheet on the face of my machine-whore (that's what i call my trusted computer). I again clicked on my friend's blog site, and found myself in the home page

... and then i clicked on the "create a blog" button

field entry: "USERNAME" - ah so i still have to think about this pa

"PASSWORD" - this is beginning to be difficult (being the obssessive compulsive that i am) "RE-TYPE PASSWORD" - testing my patience ei...

"EMAIL ADDRESS" - patience young jedi...

... agree to terms and conditions? YES "click" (who wouldn't, as if a choice is truly given)

GGGGAAAAWWWWDDDD!!!! DDDEEENNNIIIEEEDDD!!!#%*?@!!^%%$!?? (invectives here...)

"user name not available" -- but before i slap my machine whore in her cpu cheeks till its red... i realized and asked.... "could it be?"

and so with my eyes glued on the face of my whore, a quiver rushed in every part of my body (twas just cold here in the office), i typed my username on the "sign in" field....

i stopped for a while...

was a bit hesitant....

as if, the wind whispered it in my ear... i typed in a password

the next couple of seconds felt like hours, no even months as if i was transported in a time space warp (minus annie)

alas.. my rebirth...

i was brought back to a record of an episode of my life ....

the memories of my once forgotten love...

a close encounter with a mad man....

two entries...

enough to bring back everything i've been through.... all the people i've met ... decisions i made ... from the time i made the world of cyberspace become witness of my existence...

ahhhhh... it feels good goin back to those times you feel human...
in touch with your feelings... aware of your existence..

now i know what i missed, and what will i be missing...

nothing is more important than having your existence recognized... one will be lucky to have someone who will be the witness of his existence..

but even so, it is enough that one recognizes his own existence, appreciates his experiences, learns from his mistakes, and feel from his relationships.

what a life i've lived... i can't wait what will come, but i will wait, and i will immortalize them... from people i get to share my life with, and from myself so that i can look to my Creator, and be grateful and humbled.

so i'll be blogging...

read on...

Friday, April 15, 2005

WARNING: stalker on the loose

I had no idea watching Miss Congeniality 2 can be fatal.
After me and my friends watched Sandra Bullock strut her way to saving Miss America by being Armed and Fabulous, I had the most freakish and scariest experience of my usually “ho-hum” life.
I first saw the suspect, at the mall entrance lazily puffing his stick. He caught my attention, even my nerves cause he accidentally (or was it purposely?) got some of his cigarette ashes on one of my girl friend’s shirt. I gave him a look (not the magnum type, I’m no Zoolander), and if not because of the presence of the officers in uniform, I could have taken the law in my hands and attacked the perpetrator under the justifying circumstance of in defense of stranger which can make me walk out of the deed scott-free. (Of course, I’m exaggerating!!!)
The good side of me prevailed and I decided to accept his apology. However, when I looked back I noticed his two eyes (if he has three I would have run away from sheer fright), staring sharply back at us. If the pun “looks can kill” were true, I would have dropped dead instantaneously, swimming on my own blood, like no other Carlo Caparas flick can depict. (of course minus the signature Kris Aquino shrilling shriek)
I almost cry due to sheer boredom in the entire showing of this B-flick. I downed one and a half biggie sized iced tea (the one half courtesy of my girl friend seating beside me), bacon and mushroom melt, 7 packets of Hanes ketchup (or catsup), and half a bag of popcorn. I felt like throwing up after that late night binge (the movie would have made me do it), and so I have to excuse myself from my group to go to the wash room. (or powder room for English)
It was impossible to take out all those junk from my insides, and that would not be a good idea either, so I just went to one of the cubicles and took a leak. I heard the door slowly opening and when I looked back to that direction, I saw the suspect standing there resting his back on the door. ( I was expecting to hear the “Psycho” sound effect here, but there was none) I concentrated to finish unloading myself but it became difficult even for a single drop of my man-juice (hmmm…that doesn’t sound good ei?), I mean my water waste to come out my hose (that wasn’t anything pleasant either). I felt my legs weakening, and a sudden gush of cold aircondition wind sent chills down my spine that my whole body convulsed, after releasing a sigh of relief. (consult your doctor or any med student to know about the “sudden shudder while peeing phenomenon” among men) I felt helpless. I can’t turn back and face the suspect, not until I safely tucked my hose in my truck.
I composed myself, not to appear anything bothered, though I’m seriously freaking out inside. Then when I looked at him, he smiled. It felt weird, that wasn’t the usual smile which can make u sing the “Getting To Know You” song. So I hurriedly went out of the washroom without even washing my hands. (I hope my friend who made me hold his hotdog sandwich when he transferred seat is not reading this)
I never told anyone what had just transpired. Though my girl friend asked me why the hell am I breathing heavily.
On our way home, my girlfriend asked me to bring her to Pasig. Let me rephrase that: to bring her back to her place in Pasig.
As I was traversing Shaw Boulevard on my way to EDSA after the gentlemanly deed, a golden brown CRV suddenly overtook me from behind and swerved in front of me which made me reach for my brakes and my car to a screeching halt. I rarely throw myself to road rage but this time it’ll feel like hell if I’ll let this bastard go. He stopped after the traffic lights and I parked in front of him and went out of my car. I directly went to the driver side to confront the erring road dim-wit, but alas, I saw the suspect inside smiling. I was taken back, no words can escape my mouth from disbelief. This guy started to literally beg if we can talk. He wanted to take me for coffee or dinner. Asking for my contact details.
“I don’t mean any harm. I just want to talk to you. I want us to be friends.” He blurted out.
I completely freaked out. I couldn’t help myself but to raise my voice and shout on him invectives, even I have no idea where it came from. He has been following us all this time. I remembered that I noticed the same vehicle when we stopped in convenience store along EDSA and in a gas station in Shaw.
“Go away man!!!” I was driving him away like a madman. When he tried to get out of his vehicle I ran to my car and got hold of my baseball bat and swayed it around (Panday’s sword-handling is of no match to me), threatening him that if he gets any closer, he wouldn’t have just a shattered wind shield and dented car, but also equally shattered skull and rib cage. I felt the sudden rush of adrenaline which can make me one mean killing machine.
Good thing, he went back to his vehicle and drove away.
I opened my car and got in. I sat back for awhile and gathered my thoughts on what had just happened. I suddenly remembered my friend who was shot to death by an unknown gunman after a confrontation due to a road accident.
I looked around. No one’s around except for a passenger jeep which passed by minutes ago.
That was something.
I felt unsafe more than ever, realizing that perpetrators of crime come in different shapes and sizes. Sometimes the most dangerous of them is not your stereotypical goon wearing black leather jacket and boots, but is lurking among the most innocent-looking freaks you usually encounter under the most unexpected circumstance.
Please be safe everyone.


I always wonder each time I come to the point realizing that another relationship has to end, that why the heck does one fall in love when it has been made clear to him again and again, from his previous heartaches, that the sorrow and despair of parting ways with the person you once affectionately shared your life with is far more greater (pardon the redundancy) than any of your romantic moments that can easily make any Julia Roberts’ mushy lovey-dovey blockbuster hit fail in comparison.

Yes, the pessimistic love bug may have bitten me hard this time and so are the 34% people in the statistic showing how negative the outlook of the general masses had been these days. But as compared to those considerations in the survey, which deals with the economy and politics (obviously no place in this entry), my consideration is that which involves the matters of the heart, that oh-so problematic yet oh-so inspiring and vibrant feeling called love. (people may start throwing up this time… but please read on)

Why fall in love?

Some of my favorite movies lend a few insightful answers to this timeless question.

Because we need a witness to our lives. There are billions of people
in the world and what does one life mean.”
“But in marriage (and so in loving), you promise to care about everything- the good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things.”
“All of it, all the time, everyday”
“You’re saying: your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it.”
“You’re life will not go unwitnessed, because I will witness it”


Taking from Susan Sarandon’s character in the movie “Shall We Dance”. I’ll sure quote her for that.

Who can argue with that? Hearing it for the first time, I’m sure I share the same sentiment, that everyone who had, or is having, or have been longing to love, how wonderful it truly is.

But every song, even how beautiful it may sound, always has its last note.

Every dance, even how precise and graceful it may be performed, has its last step.

Every love, even how passionate and exhilarating it may feel, has its goodbye.

And so, as silence came after the melody, as the rhythmic motion came to a halt, as solitary existence begins, one cant stop wondering, has it been worth all this pain I’m feeling now.

When every memory of those moments in her arms, that everything else around seemed to be worthless, may initially bring smiles and happy thoughts, but eventually you’re only left in despair with the sad reality that they wont be happening again, that they’ll remain as memories.

But a song is not remembered by its fading tunes, but by ever note which made the symphony.

A dance is not immortalized by its ending moves, but by every glides, hops, and skips which made the sways.

Love is not lived by the adieus, but by every moment when one forgets his own existence and chose to be a witness to that of other’s.
And so, it has to end so that one knows how much love can he give.

When the end signals the beginning of new love, that in one way or another has been inspired by each goodbyes of the past.

As every song, made every music.

As every dance, made every grace.

As every love, made our life