Tuesday, 23 February 2010


Sometimes(if not most of the time) we fail to notice people that could really inspire us, so many of them are out there. For the people of my hometown, Ambassador Tublay Benguet, Dexter is the peddler they buy their 'puto' (rice cakes), 'kutchinta'(another rice delicacy), fish or 'pinapaitan's' (type of stew) ingredients.

Before everyone starts their day, Dexter would ride the jeep from Baguio City with his heavy two containers full of stuff to sell. He'll stop by at Km 21 or 22 then walks back the road carrying his goods until it's all disposed. He usually gets to our place, km 18, half full and almost empty during lucky days.

Then at late afternoon, he's back walking the Halsema Road with 'balut'(boiled egg with nearly developed embryo) and 'chicharon'(deep fried pork skin).

It is the laughter Dexter will crack out from you that will win you in buying. I had a taste of it when we had our December vacation in the Philippines. He saw my camera and said my sisters Ica and Jehan(who are also here in Italy) will finally see how he looks after years of missing his 'chicharon' and 'kutchinta'(another rice delicacy). Then he striked me a pose (please see photo above) and blurted, "Oh baka magkalat yan sa Internet. Ok lang, pang artista naman"(That might be all over the net. Its ok, I look like a celebrity anyway).

There are so many Dexters we can not "see". No Brad Pitt kind of life but with an extra ordinary tenacious grip on holding it out there. Salamat sa mga taong katulad nyo'(Thanks to people like you). Indeed, he is a celebrity! Cheers to him and his "deserving moment" to be on the Internet!

Friday, 19 February 2010


LUKIE: Mama, ghosts are true or its just in the cartoons?

MAMA: (was about to say she doesn't know) Only in the cartoons or movies, baby. Not true.

LUKIE: Allora(so or there for), fiction or non fiction?

MAMA: They were just made from people's imagination. Its fiction (was about to add, "I guess", but I don't want my credibility as the "source" of knowledge be of doubt).

LUKIE: It must be true. People will not just make it if it didn't have an ORIGIN. It must have an ORIGIN.

MAMA: I haven't seen one yet, so its not true (getting scared while writing thing as a ghost might appear and prove her son's point.)

Saturday, 13 February 2010


I wrote on my former teacher's wall at Facebook days ago, during his birthday, "Aging alert should be toned down but not, when you lived a happy life. Let it be a deafening "alarm" to those who haven't...". Of which, I'm not quite sure if I made sense.

On second thought, "So if you're not happy, you better forget the date of your birth? Then the "third eye"(hahaha) made sense, "Its your choice, you decide!", she said (or saw it coming).

How do you define happiness by the way? Is it when your son's class card got perfect grades in all his subjects except Science which is just less one from the perfect score? Thanks to Lukie, my eldest he then defined it for me. What if there's more? Like your other son, at the age of three, could read when he can't even clearly talk yet. Then Dylan just made me happy when he read me "Spot Goes Splash" by Eric Hill before he went to sleep. How about a husband who is there to scratch your back or warm your feet when you get into bed? Good thing I have Boogie to fill this part.

Others say that there's a greater context to it and not just being at bliss. Some would find rejoicing from the hopes they see in others' eyes - the doctor from his patient, the priest from his congregation, Samaritans who raise money to help the less fortunate, rescuers who brave the storm to save lives and the list goes on.

There are also some who find joy from being financially successful - buying Ferrari cars, putting up big houses, travelling etc...

To be free and unattached, keeping their status single, is heaven for some.

Its really all about deciding what makes us happy and any reason other people has is no lesser than ours. Every one has the right for it!

As Thesaurus.com wrote - contentment, optimism, peace of mind, well being are synonymous to what I am "blabbering" on my 36th birthday. Let's choose to be it - to be happy. Let's not go for the opposite - depression is tiring, exhausting and keeps you in the dark (figuratively and literally). Life is so short for sadness to control our little given time. Let's decide to LIVE...

So there, HAPPY IS MY BIRTHDAY! Then to you ALL, HAVE A HAPPY-HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! Virtual BIG HUGS from my part of the GLOBE! CHEERS and GOOD HEALTH nga kuna ni TRUBLUE(where ever he is)!

Friday, 12 February 2010


SQUANDER by Skunk Anasie

Why take everything you see?
You have nothing left to squander
If you keep pushing me away
You have no one left to love

You throw it all away
those ties you went and suffered for
you cause disaster
and flounder flounder flounder flounder

Why take everything you see?
You have nothing left to squander
If you keep pushing me away
You have no one left to do love

your less than you should be
why run so hard to finish last
you caused contentment
and i wonder wonder wonder wonder

Why take everything you see?
You have nothing left to squander
If you keep pushing me away
You have no one left to looooove, looooove
Why squander squander squander squander

Why take everything you see?
You have nothing left to squander
If you keep pushing me away
You'll have no one left to, no one left to love

Saturday, 6 February 2010


Not much of a confession that could make it to the tabloid, but me and my husband, got keyed up when we read an announcement on the net about a Christmas climb to Mt. Pulag. Still in Italy that time, I was already seeing myself posing for Boogie's camera with that majestic colors of dawn, dreamy white cotton clouds and golden or green grasses behind me. Was looking forward too on ascending for the first time and luckily, with my dear husband. "How is it to sleep in a tent and get cosy in a sleeping bag?", played my mind.

Aside from the feeling that we are going to be climbers soon (or just me), we became compulsive buyers and took turns to Decathlon and shop for our gears. Tent, sleeping bag, waterproof jackets, sweaters and my best found, a hiking pair of shoes I love wearing now - its so comfortable and very warm. Its winter here and most of the time snowing but these shoes could really walk the cold.

We even thought of purchasing a portable camping stove but didn't. We thought it's fuel might not be allowed on our flight.

We also tried our best to work out and did our running more than the usual before we left Venice. Then the aching muscles as we continued to jog the stairs of Wright Park up to the Mansion and round Mines View till we get back to our place in Ambuklao Road, were reminders of worst body aches we will soon experience if we don't prepare physically.

The drama, if I may say hahaha....


Byd, one of the organizers, informed us a week before the trip that they have 260 participants and they had to close the registration. "Oh men, just think of them going for that morning call, Mt Pulag will be in deep s---, I mean poop!", I keep telling everyone who knew we will be joining. "POOR MOUNTAIN", put in two words. Then I called Byd that we are cancelling.

From Pacdal, we went home to Tublay instead and Boogs went down to Babatan(click this :
musashiboogie for his article published in Sun Star). When he got back and me with the kids, my sisters, brothers, nieces and nephews from playing at the school down my fathers house, we packed our lunch and decided to have a picnic up the only mountain near our home that was left from erotions and road widening.

It was a better climb, I was not just with my husband but so with my little boys. Though, I had to carry Dylan to the steep and bushy foot trail. And, I was also scared all the time because the old mountain where we used to play, was literally half ruined by landslides. We had to take the long way, the shorter one eroded.
Some people still make use of the fast route but its literally walking into the ravine. I was constantly shouting at Lukie and my brother Tan-tan to slow down because the right side of the trail was another haunting ravine. The boys and my husband (who is holding the tripod, our food, water and all the cameras) were getting irritated with my squeaking voice reminding every one to take care, watch out and wait up.

It was good to see again the "pulot", a plant that sticks to your clothes. Dylan had a tiny cut when he pulled a kind of a grass that has sharp leaves(forgt the name). I told my boys that we used go up there, watch the sunset, look for wild berries and just lye down there on the grass. It was fun for them even though the place wasn't the same anymore.

The hot-dog, corn beef and eggs lunch was extra-ordinary as the hot rice complimented it. Just like the old days, even simple food up there is so delicious. Truly the best picnic for Dylan and Lukie. And so it is with me, even the ("best-est" if there is only such a word). Not everyone is lucky to do what he used to do when he was young with his very own kids.

At the end, I was very glad I did not go to Mt Pulag. With our remaining 13 days of stay where we can't figure how to fit all our remaining agendas. I was able to walk back the steps of my childhood and how refreshing, happy and fulfilling it felt. Makes you thank how life had been good to you.

The GREAT fun of the the day did not end yet. Of which we should have missed, if we were added to the 300 participants of the "A December To Remember". That night, I went out on a date for the first time with all the significant gentlemen known to me... to be continued....

NOTE: All our pix on the mountain were over exposed so we had to edit it. Boogs forgot how to set his SLR after toying with his Diana F+...

Wednesday, 3 February 2010


When you forgot why you loved writing, you should remind yourself why you love it in the first place. Try also to dwell upon what or who inspires you to create these set of words and made you believe the silliest idea that you can really write.

Lately, I contented myself in becoming a passive reader to blogs I frequent. In turn, it made me lost my confidence to even type the first word of whatever thought I'm trying to compose. The morale is lost. Its wrong but how can you sustain tenacity when you read other's work - overflowing with substance and perfectly fitted words sounding harmoniously?

Its been three days now since I punched in my first paragraph and this is how far(or not) I had gone. "My eyes are heavy, I need to sleep"..... "My back hurts, I need to rest".... "Grumbling tummy, I must eat".... All but excuses for time lost.

Nevertheless, I'm submitting this entry to BOOST THE BLOGGER in me, in us who are make believers that we are "word slingers". Let's keep on convincing ourselves that what we write is what we are, its our story. Dull, deep or empty we may sound, its okay. We never know, we might be what makes other read, laugh, cry, get angry et all...

Now, let me have Stephen King speak to me when he once said, "No, its not a very good story - its author is busy listening to other voices to listen closely as he should have to the one coming from inside."

So, I write again...

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