January 26, Part 2

Not the usual suspects showed up when I went to Cyrano Wine Selections, my favorite spot in Makati and the only social networking site I will be involved in from now on. Alex, Cris and two of the three Blue Babble Battalion already had their spirits up.

Neil was there lounging in the sofa, sipping his regular coffee but the bigger surprise was seeing a former office mate of mine who happens to be one of the people I admire and respect in my industry - Greg Martin III, a guy who enjoys his alcohol with his coffee, sometimes separately and sometimes mixed even before the sun goes way up. He had brought along his former team mates from his agency and they provided me a sense of newness to my favorite hangout.

And while I'm addicted to everything new, we ended the night with a bright new morning as I came out at around 6 am, panicking at the thought that my mom would knock at my bedroom door and not find me inside.

Thank God, I arrived just in time to get a 15 minute nap. After that my mom, cousin Amy and I headed back to Makati, to my old place, and began packing. While most birthdays are spent removing ribbons and tearing off wrapping papers from boxes I spent the day doing the opposite.

Ironic. But it also meant that I was going to receive the biggest birthday present in my entire life - a box which was 44 sq. m. big. I didn't bother with the ribbons and all that, really. The following day, we went to Dansalan in Mandaluyong and finally signed my papers for my new condo. Seeing my name on it gave me something to smile about - it would be enough for now.

That was Sunday and I'm jumping headlines from one day to the next. Saturday wouldn't have been completed with the event that one of my pet piranhas biting me in the hand. I'm speaking figuratively, of course.

Most of the time, this smaller piranha fights with the bigger piranha. If you know me it would be impossible for me not to get in the way, because I love my pets. It was one of the few times I stood my ground and the smaller piranha realized that I wasn't going to give up without a fight. Eventually, the smaller piranha realized how wrong she was and made it up to me by buying me snacks and even a polo shirt in the next few days. Me? I'm just enjoying the fact that I took a stand and won. Don't get me wrong, I love my pets, but sometimes you have to show them the side you always try to hide from them.

They see me as someone who can do no wrong and who can't raise his voice beyond the conversational tone. They were wrong of course. But that's when I realized how old I was, or how comfortable I was with the gift of age. I liked it. I was happy with it. It gave me a sense of belonging that I've never felt before. It gave me a renewed sense of respect which I didn't bother from other people, but from me. I believe that's the most important thing that one should consider, self matters. And it's not just a very high opinion of one's self, but a genuine love and respect for one's own abilities, skills, talents, gifts and all that goes with it. That was the best gift I received that day.

Friends have always been gifts to me and this year, they became fewer. At least it's easy for me to count them and to count on them.

Sunday morning was spent playing football with people from the ad industry. And while my ex-office mates completely forgot that it was my birthday the day before, I got another gift - the realization that my body was getting old. Sure, I may not look that old but my left leg was sprained even before the game started, but that didn't stop me from playing the next one and a half hours. Of course, I had to limp my way to lunch afterwards.

I went to Cyrano the following day when one of my friends called up and she wanted to see me after two-week long vacation. It seemed like a weekend when we arrived on that monday night, the Blue Babble Battalion were there and some of the shop's regulars. And Alex being the gracious host that he was had informed everyone that I had recently celebrated my birthday. Yup, sounds like Cheers to me, too.

Our small agency had a free day at the end of the week. And for the past few weeks of working straight through the weekend, it was a great gift indeed. I love my privacy and I love spending days alone. It's one of those days that signaled the end of my birthday celebrations. Usually, it's a month long, but with the things that happened to me lately, I'd rather keep it short and continue living the days like it was the last - doing everything what needs to be done, or living it like it was the first day of the rest of my life.

It works for me either way. Probably it's how I see things that are different now. Only time can tell. Who knows? Maybe it'll take me another year to figure it out. Until that happens, I'm just going to enjoy everything this year has in store for me.

January 26, Part 1

I spent this day with a lot of people. The funny part is that during the first hour of the day I navigated to the social networking sites I belonged to and deleted my profile. Yup. Halfway across the globe, one of my friends got a surprise when she decided to send me a message through one of the networks and discovered nothing as she went to my homepage.

Fortunately, I still do keep several blog sites open to public. It's the traffic that got to me. As much as I love people, I'm not really THAT sociable. I would rather spend my energies with those who deserve my attention, who listen to my corny jokes, who patiently wait for me to talk to them even if they're in a different hemisphere altogether and those who just simply adore me - and I really don't need a social networking site to keep them in one place. (Besides, how social can you get if you can't even see these people much less talk to them, converse with them in a proper way?)

In fact, the number becomes smaller every year. On the other hand, one discovers how strong some of the bonds are with the people I've kept so close. If anyone would like to know me or get to know how I am like, she would only need to speak with and gather three or five of my good friends - you know, kidnap them, keep them blindfolded inside a room and interrogate them until one of them spills the – okay, I think I'm getting lost now.

And before I lose it completely, I shall bid farewell for now. Nope, I'm not going to delete this site. At least, I don't get to see who's been checking up on me. I'm probably over my head, too. Right? Maybe, no one does, but just in case you're someone whom I call my friend, then I'm just as happy as you are.

To be continued …

New Year's with my Cyrano Friends

Posted in: Cyrano Friends

Home is now fifteen minutes away from where I used to live. I am exaggerating, of course, because this only happens when it’s way past three in the morning. But after the first hour of the New Year, I get ready to celebrate the first holiday of the year with friends I’ve been rewarded with during the year that was. Fifteen minutes is nothing compared to the hours I will be spending with Cyrano Friends.

My arrival is greeted by an ensemble of explosive instruments playing a five-minute long composition in the key of G. As in Gago. Because the culprits left their instruments of chaos and mayhem right behind Alex’s vehicle after lighting it and running away like a bunch of rock stars being chased by hundreds of girls.

Sinturon ni Judas! That’s what the blazing idiots lit and they had to do it after the rest of the fireworks were done because it was the type of fireworks that could never compete with the expertly crafted fireworks display that lit up the Ayala triangle and the whole metro for that matter.

The arrival of the lively ladies of Cyrano; Cris, Jam and Janet; and the soon-to-be-married-within-the-year Leo was more than enough to compensate for my loss of experiencing the fireworks spectacle in any of the major areas of interest.

Leo, in his half-drunk state because he started much earlier with several shots of absinth, talked about how awkward the past weekend was for him when he and his family met with the family of his betrothed.

Janet also spent New Year’s Eve with her own family, but instead of spending it traditionally within the comforts of home, they dragged their parents outside, for the first time, under the stars smiling on Makati Avenue. She was smiling at the time, counting down to the New Year with the most significant man in her life. There was a major fireworks display reported on the street below challenging the ones happening in the Makati skyline.

Cris had her share of fireworks even before the weekend began. There’s more to come, we say. The New Year was about to begin and there are 365 days left, every night would be lit with all sorts of pyrotechnics and what not - better prepare yourself, Cris. Besides, you were the one who said, “Bring it on!”

Jam was bouncing and energetic, eyes wide full of excitement and all sentences an exclamation when she speaks, keeping the night vivid and cheerful, even after all the fireworks had stopped.

The exchange of stories, highlights of the year and things that couldn’t be helped but had to bring up kept us awake for hours. Seven hours and four wine bottles after, we were ready call it a day. I was just as surprised to see daylight creeping into the bar as Alex vigilantly stayed behind the counter while reminding me to write about the New Year in Cyrano.

And what was I going to contribute to celebrations, you might want to ask, other than the usual one-liners and the more obvious witness to the day’s revelry? Well, nothing, really. I was there as a recipient of what the Cyrano Friends could offer and if I had to offer anything, it would only be an extra smile, adding loudness to a healthy drum of laughs, an additional quote or page full of stories to fill the dark corners of Cyrano.

At 7:30 in the morning, we left each other’s company. And as I went back to Parañaque, I realized that the New Year couldn’t have been complete without spending it with the people who inhabit my home away from home. But whoever said that the New Year celebrations had to end so early in the day?

That, my friends, is a another story waiting to be told.

Goodbye Makati, Hello Parañaque!

I've moved so many times in my life. From Fairview, the place where I grew up, to move to Makati, where I decided to work. When my parents could afford it, they bought my sister a condo. Eventually, I moved in with my sister and stayed in the smaller room. When my father died, my sister and I couldn't help the fact that my mom was alone in our house in Fairview, so we decided to adopt her. The next few years would be difficult. I was no longer used to being with my family. A few years later, I moved out of the condo and rented a place for myself. I stayed there for more than a year until we decided to sell our house in Fairview. My mom and my sister got themselves a brand new condo in Parañaque, Roxas Boulevard. It was too big for two small women. Three bedrooms, an extra room (if we had help, but we don't), three rest rooms, two parking spaces alloted for us - it was big and even I didn't live there with them.

I stayed in our Makati condo. Until, of course, the break-in. I decided that staying there was no longer worth it. My safety was far valuable than the privacy that I cherished for so long. So, I started packing up, again. I've moved so many times that I already know what to bring first and what to box. I initially bought 5 Balikbayan Boxes and realized yesterday that it was not enough, but I have two weeks to go before everything would be done. At least I've already defrosted the refrigerator and removed all plugs from the sockets. The clothes that I regularly wear and the items which I need for work have already been transferred to the Parañaque condo and I've decided to just leave all the other boxes in Makati until we get a buyer.

68 sq. m. 2 bedrooms. 1 parking space. Alright, that's enough advertising.

Hard to let go of the place. I love my freedom. I love my individuality. Not that I'm saying that I don't love living with my mom and sis. It's something I could get used to. Besides, there's a gym on the 2nd floor which I can take advantage of, until we have the money to purchase a new property. Now, where do I want to live next?

Privacy

I keep to myself most often than not and allow only a few to come a few inches near my personal bubble. I don't enjoy crowded spaces unless I'm surrounded by several girls from the mansion of Hugh Hefner. And when I'm at home, I expect my privacy to be respected - even my mom doesn't have all the keys to the condo.

On December 9, between 7:30 to 8:30 p.m. my personal space, the privacy that I've been protecting has been desecrated.

I just finished watching a tv show in my macbook pro when I decided to finally take a bath, go to Starbucks and have my usual sunday night coffee. That didn't happen, of course. A few hours later, I found myself talking to the local police and some investigators while their men search the house for fingerprints. It looked like watching CSI, but to be seeing it from the point of view of one of the actors is pushing it, really.

Anyway, as I went out of the room I saw my football boots on top of the counter and the main door was ajar. Quickly, I rushed out - not thinking that the miscreants may still be around - and saw the window leading to another rest room inside my house had been broken. The sliding panels and the steel grills had been removed.

I found myself shouting at the top of my lungs. I had no problem there, I was in the choir for so many years - my voice echoed throughout the building and the tenants of my building quickly rushed to my aid. I called up my mom and sis to inform them of what had happened and called my partners telling them that I might not be able to go to one of our meetings.

While my neighbors gathered outside my house, I quickly took a glance at what had been missing from the house. I lost four thousand pesos, my SSS and driver's license that were stuck in between the money clip. My house keys were taken as well, including one credit card and one ATM card, which I immediately canceled. My PSP was taken as well. Thank God I didn't leave my mobile nor my newly-acquired iPod Touch! But the worst of all (really, this was the one that pissed me off) they also got a ceramic bowl with all the coins that I didn't want to keep in my pockets! I don't even know how much the coins are worth, probably five hundred pesos or more even, but that thing is just way too heavy. Sheesh. What a bunch of idiots. There are so many things one can get from my place and then they get that instead.

Good thing I didn't decide to go out of the room when all of that happened. I wouldn't know what I would've done. Throw a chair at them? Go get the short and dull samurai sword hanging behind the door and see how much blood comes out of them? Scream like a girl? Hell, I'm just smiling now because my life has been spared.

But to think that they got so near to me ...

Now, I'm already thinking about packing up my bags and going to my mom's house for the remainder of the year. It's going to be moving out day soon. It's also a good thing that we've already made the last payment for the condo. I'm thinking of selling it quick and get to a much safer place. I don't know how long that will take but as long as I'm safe - that's all that matters.

I can't sleep now and for the first time it's not the coffee. In fact, at the time that I'm writing this, I can smell the full roast of hazelnut beans coming from my coffee machine. Thank God they didn't think about stealing that!

I'm fine. But this is one of those nights that I truly feel that I'm alone.

Do you live on Maginhawa Street?

No, I don't. In fact, I live more than 10 kilometers away, in a 65 square meter, two bedroom condo unit in Makati. I don't have to pay rent because I own it, but I have to pay association dues, electricity and water bills, and then some to live comfortably. You could say that I already am living in Maginhawa Street, but there are those who wander in that area that are far from it.

My workday begins behind the wheel as I drive to pick-up Judith, who lives in Cainta, Rizal and we're bound to arrive in Chubby's place a little after lunchtime. Judith, my copywriter, Creative Director and Chief Executive Officer all rolled into one, was already hungry and we decided to stop in a small restaurant in Maginhawa street, a few blocks away from Chubby's house.

Combi was our all-time favorite dinner place when we would end the working day but since we started working in Chubby's house we've never had the opportunity to go back. While our orders were taken a young girl dressed in a worn-out blue and white school uniform came to our table, which was outside the restaurant. She was selling cigarettes that were inside a small plastic container, but Judith and I were already lighting our own cigarettes. I waved my hand to inform her that we weren't interested in what she was selling.

The girl stayed nearby, inspecting the life-sized plastic skeleton that was on display in front of the restaurant. It was then that I asked Judith if she had any spare change because I never carry any in my pockets. We called the young girl back to our table and bought several pesos worth of candies instead. I noticed that the cigarette brands she was selling was written over the plastic container she was holding and the brand that I was smoking was misspelled. "Winton," I said. "Kulang ng 's'," I added.

She smiled and the pair of dimples on her cheeks broke my heart. Judith, being fond of writing instruments, quickly handed the young girl with a marker so that she could correct the mistake. And that's when we started asking her why she wasn't in school even if she was wearing her school uniform.

"Walang baon, eh," she replied.

The young girl continued to answer our other questions even if she tried to avoid them, but in a matter of minutes she was already telling us how scary it would be if the skeleton that was on display were made out of real bones. And while Judith kept on talking to her, I felt scared of how grave the situation was.

Only a few days ago I was listening to a radio talk show and they were discussing how many school children fail to proceed to the school level. And one of the main causes was that they lack the money to buy food. No money, no allowance, no food. You certainly can't teach someone who's hungry, right?

I believe in the value of education and even if I've been working for more than ten years, I still try to find ways to educate myself. If I had enough money and time I would like to go back to school. I would consider myself lucky for having been gifted with a curiosity that enables me to learn and a family that who values education. Until now, I still in the process of learning, from my mentors, my partners and everyone who has something to teach me anything new. But today, the young girl I met on Maginhawa has taught me more than what my teachers could teach me in a year.

"This is the kind of pro-bono that I would like to do," I told Judith. "This is the kind of cause that would be worth doing." Judith knew what I was talking about and before I could say anything more, her pen was up and she handed me a copy of an ad that I was already thinking about. I gave my approval as she asked me who do we sell the idea to.

I've done pro-bono work for Caritas and Gabriela before when I was still employed, but this time I realized that I didn't want to do this for any institution. "It's going to be unbranded," I told Judith. "Where's the call to action?" She asked me.

Money can only go as far as end of one's pockets. "There isn't any. This is it." Sometimes I wish I had a foundation to my name that would help solve this problem, but I don't.

It had become personal. "This ad is my call to action. The copy you've placed there is yours. Whoever is going to help us produce it has answered that call to action." I said simply.

I'm an ad man and my talents can only go so far as to bring awareness to the situation. And while I'm used to just reading of the situation behind a newspaper or an advertising brief to come up with an ad to help raise funds for a non-government organization I am now placing a face to the statistic.

And while it is a beautiful face, it didn't belong on Maginhawa Street.

When I realized what had to be done, I quickly reached into the pockets of my bag to get my camera which was equipped with a video recording component. But I was too late. The young girl was already gone. I went across the street and asked the employees of another restaurant if they had seen me talking to young girl with the description I had given them. They informed me that she lived a few blocks away in a place they called Krus na Ligas and told me that she regularly made her rounds in the area.

The information gave me some hope of seeing the young girl again, but I felt disappointed. An opportunity presented itself and I missed it, completely. "You're tired, Sam," Judith told me. "That's not an excuse," I replied.

We're so lucky, so blessed with what we have that we take everything for granted. We're rewarded for our brilliance, given recognition and yet we complain how tired we are for doing so much when in fact we haven't really done a lot. And then here's a young girl who's learning to peddle cigarettes so that she could start to learn - and I wish that she wouldn't learn to sell something else in order to have food on the table.

Their lives are far simpler than ours but we live in a more comfortable lifestyle in comparison. It's ironic that those who dwell around the street of Maginhawa never have it so easy.

As soon as the work day ended, I drove around the area once more. I tried to familiarize myself where Krus na Ligas was. I promised myself that I would try to find the girl again. It was the least that I could do because I know that what I was planning would never be enough. Today, I missed an opportunity to do something worthy of my gifts and talents. I swear, this will not happen again.

Eleven

I've recently started running again. Three times a week, nightly, at the Salcedo Park. I haven't gotten any real physical activity of late since resigning from being an employee and there are advantages of being self-employed. I don't have to wake up just in time to be earlier than the boss, in fact, I don't even have to be on time for anything.

I had so much time that I spend it needlessly on other pursuits I might as well make it productive. I have gained weight - not a lot, but enough that people notice. So, a few weeks ago, I got my old pair of cross trainers and ran. Thirty minutes tops. That's just about enough I could take for someone as old as I am.

I run at night - the cold air is a natural coolant for the body and besides I really sweat a lot. My old pair of shoes need to be replaced, just as soon as I maintain my schedule. I've been on it for three weeks now and it feels refreshing. And just to make things interesting I purchase a futsal-sized football to aid my exercise.

The thing is, that I easily get tired. I'm not used to long-distance running. I should be, since I play football but I'm more used to sprinting. My running pace isn't stable - I sprint, I brisk-walk, I run, I walk, I sprint and I do it over and over again. Until I'm bored. That's my problem, I get bored easily with the routine.

The ball helps. It keeps up with my ever-changing pace of running, walking, sprinting after the ball as it bounces of from the gutter. I would've stayed out until 12 midnight but the rain was worsening. From eleven to eleven-thirty, I passed the ball to the gutter. Not so much of a challenge, right? Sometimes I wish I could easily find a team to play with me at 11 p.m., but who does play at that ungodly hour?

Well, who knows? Maybe a varsity player for a women's college football team lives around the area and would take pity on a lonely man with a ball at eleven o'clock in the evening.