Switching On the Sun

Sunday: Traffic was unusually heavy although likely with the influx of Baguio visitors. G o ing to mass was already like a sacred procession in itself. Although behind schedule, we almost made it to church. I fervently hope that our intention of attending mass based on our faith is strong enough to be acceptable in the eyes of Our Father. We’re about to enter when we were blocked and led out by policemen seemingly guarding the perimeter. With the idea that they were under direct order to secure the place for the safety of no less than the President, I repetitively sought for the elusive answer from one policeman if it was indeed because of who I thought it was, he reluctantly confirmed. Why drive parishioners away with the notion that they (or we) are possible threats if the reason for going to mass in the first place is supposed to be founded on faith. Faith that in God’s hand, one is not to worry… Faith that in God’s hand, everyone will be saved… Don’t they have faith? Doesn’t

There is a correlation as to the term son with that of the Sun, both of which denote life-sustaining light. Like so, bearing of a son is sort of lighting the path towards the upholding of a man’s (father’s) legacy. An officemate was telling me how isolated he felt keeping his gender identity in the closet for the longest time from his family. Until, he pondered on liberation thus his revelation. His mother was apparently at a loss for words in disbelief. Yet the word spread… Closet queen no more, his true emancipation came recently when his most feared uncle, while intoxicated and already aware of his ‘gender issue’, expressed acceptance of his clandestine sexuality even referring to him as his niece. So much goes for ‘the son (light) of his brother’.  Disappointments are usually the sentiments (intensely for fathers) ( Father encourages students to maul 'gay' son at Dunoon Tech ... ) behind such disclosure, consequently compelling gay people to rather ‘stay in the closet’.

When our daughter came into being, I had this inkling about my tough yet fulfilling responsibility ahead in view of babies’ animated nature. While on occasion I took charge on tending to our baby then, making her sleep was far the most demanding. Other than that, it was tolerably smooth. And easier it became when I discovered how our gas-guzzling vehicle then proved to be that of what will soundly lullaby her to sleep. Talking about cost-effective… effective however costly. Tough indeed! (Lol) All the while, that was easy (except for the (fuel) outlay); then came our son. The excitement he feels every time we go for a ride seems to ascertain the difference between boys and girls. He prefers to stay awake or at least tries to. Reaching for and touching every button on the console panel seems to be more of his (boy’s) natural interest for anything technical than out of curiosity. Positioned behind the steering wheel, he yelps and mimics a moving car sound in glee presumab

On our way home, we were brought to a stop by the red light. It was as well a cue for an alarming exploit. Apparently their version of the Christmas rush, children come rushing towards halted cars wishing even for a few loose change in exchange for a Christmas carol. They weren’t playing nor experiencing normal childhood. Innocently, they were meagerly working. At that moment, I told my 6-year old daughter the importance of valuing her education… More than the likely stability of a compensating job, it was more of the related realization of the subsequent generations. Then, I remembered that one time I was ‘jobless’. Like normal children usually do, my cousins together with my brother and I used to play a lot during our youth. We ran in circles, scampered up and down the stairs, climbed and carved our names on the guava tree. Our Grandmother’s house was anything but serene. Getting to be bothersome was the least of our worries until we hear a familiar berating voice

I was sent home from work yesterday due to severe dry cough. In as much as I can still work despite the infection, we have to be considerate of others who might get infected. Thus, the urge not to avail of an SL (Sick Leave) considering its (cash) conversion at hand was rather forgone. (Tsk! lol) Then again, I needed the rest as no matter how much I’d earn wouldn’t suffice should my condition turns to worst. Health is wealth could as well be a nourishing principle I should take into serious consideration for the sake of my family. Suspecting Baguio’s bracing weather this season to be the culprit, I contentedly wrapped myself with the coziness of a thick blanket. (“Ooh comfy!”) I was by myself then… On the surface, the warmth I felt shifted to glum coldness though as all of a sudden I longed for the warmer embrace of my family. I’ve realized that the intrinsic crisp air Baguio exudes is not as breezy without someone special to warmly cuddle with in fending the coldness off. Emotio

The Dream Match was how the De La Hoya – Pacquiao welterweight boxing match was regarded. Dream Mismatch would have been more apt. That said, it’s more of waking-up-to-reality for De La Hoya and his fans and supporters as well going into the fight as the favorite. With the deemed 'mismatch' going the other way around, it would have been regarded as an upset. In such a shake-up, the loser would have been upset… But no, seemingly preserving his 'golden' name, Dela Hoya conceded defeat early on. Yet, was it really like that to begin with? Pacquiao’s admittance of his admiration for the more celebrated De La Hoya could probably be more of the reason why it was a dream match for the Pacman in the first place. How about for De La Hoya? Was it because despite of his expected loss, being the bigger star assured him of a heftier purse? Like the “Mexicutioner” (a title even the Pacman doesn’t like) , I’ve always been a fan of the Golden Boy. I cannot see myself cheering for him

Yesterday, a Road Manager was coordinating with us on behalf of her represented celebrity in line with the latter’s scheduled autograph signing and photo op (photograph opportunity). She was keen on suggesting their preferred operation (i.e., set-up; queuing; security, et al.) for the said event. Demanding seemed to be how she expressed their provisions. Understandable as it is, she was making sure the occasion will turn out to be ‘fitting for a star’. How will these stars glitter more without those who outwardly switch their luster on? Then again, one would still considerably wonder how it would be like to be in that celebrity’s ‘comfortable shoes’… For a minute there, I thought of the wide-ranging difference between the life of the rich and famous and those who rely on salaries for the assurance of the former’s further convenience. Also, I’ve come to reflect on an article I wrote years back… sharing it with you, read on and appreciate the men behind the production of that what yo

Having been asked to host an awarding ceremony for an event yesterday, notable realizations filled my thoughts. The occasion was with regard to babies as the stars of the moment. Conceivably, every parent , believe that their baby is a star. Yet, until when… Since the time sagacity served me right, I’ve reflected on some observations pertaining to parent-child relationship. While admirable are those who have shown unfailing parenting, on the contrary, it’s quite awkward to see parents seemingly harsh on their already-grown child. Whereas babies are so much cared for to the point of pampering them not j ust with the best ‘baby stuff’ but more than anything else, with invariable attention but they‘re rather dealt with differently once they’re ‘up-and-about’ and naturally manifes ting childlike-bothersome behavior. Reasonable indulgence in investing emotional attachment is acceptable but to apparently push that aside soon after one’s baby is a little older and understandably mischiev