In a Race that Matters

It has been six days since Pacman's stunning loss against his greatest foe--Juan Manuel Marquez. Like everyone else, I felt bad knowing JuanMa sent him to snooze land with a devastating right hook -- a punch, he alleged, he never saw coming.   I didn't get to watch the fight last December 8 as it was a Sunday and it coincided with our church service. Pastor Jay, in fact, commented that he would be competing with the Pac. Much as I am a pac fan, I knew I had to attend first to my soul, and as usual, the ever eloquent JJ did not disappoint. (His sermon, "Are you finishing the race? Or is the race finishing you?" was as powerful as it was emotionally charged. Thanks to his anecdotes and experiences with his mother's faith. For over an hour, I was hooked to his preaching that whatever excitement I felt for the PacMarq fight just vanished into thin air.   Then, the news...   I was with the fam at Festival Mall doing our post-lunch window shopping whe

We have been complimenting the kiddo as of late about his striking similarity  with one of the hottest moviestars in the country--- the youthful Coco Martin. For reasons unknown to us, he pouts, frowns and angrily reacts, as though he’s received a lashing instead of a compliment. Here’s what usually transpires: Dad: (while driving, notices the gaint billboard of Coco in an ad campaign for Max’s) Oh, it’s Orvik! Rovik: Yah, you really look like him. Mom: (sings, Co-coro-co-co, Paloma ..) So handsome... Orvik: ( covers his ears in disgust, shouts ) Nabuang na kayo kay Coco! (You are crazy over Coco!) I don’t like him! Mom: But you look like him. Orvik: No! Dad: Okay. You don’t look like him.   Coco looks like you! Orvik: ( shouting ) They are just the same!!! Our Little Man   We are all amused. Hearthrob Coco 

I was surfing the net, looking for a much-admired acquaintance back in highschool when I came across a   blog about her, apparently made by her brother.   T'was   titled, "Remembering My Sister."   My heart skipped. Oh, wait, this was some sort of a eulogy. I could see a photo of a long-haired lady smiling faintly. I zoomed it out. Surely, it couldn't be her? The lady in photo, sans any make-up, is a beauty. Seated infront of a keyboard, she sports a sweet, albeit shy smile. Dark-haired and fair-skinned, she is a picture of life. Those eyes... they seem to penetrate as I look at her. Though there are faint circles underneath those eyes, they do not in any way mar her loveliness. Thoughts swirled in my mind. The gal I knew was a beauty. And fair-skinned. And had long flowing mane like hers. I scrolled the blog and there before me was a pre-teen photo of the same gal with the exact facial features of the teener I knew then. The year was 1988. It was the third

                               "DEAR JESSE" (A Tribute to a Great Bicolano) Baby face why did you leave so  fast? Against our wish, our flags, half mast On August 18, 2012 time grinded to a halt On a cloudless day we were wrenched apart.                               Like a weary eagle on a flight to her nest You were on your way home, seeking rest Beloved wife and daughters, rare gems in mind Oh, what solace, what comfort, in their embrace you'd find. Naga, " ang maogmang lugar, " the cheerful place Is stricken with grief, flooded in tears Oh, the beacon of hope, our one big pride Has laid down the torch and crossed the great divide. Like a candle whose light is snuffed out Like a pilgrim without direction Like a cub, maimed and abandoned We lost a pillar of hope,  what desperation! The Son of man, once bloodied, lifeless on a tree Took the hand of a man  whose plane plunged to the sea

On August 18,2012, at around 5pm, a Piper Seneca plane bearing four people-two on the pilot seats, two as passengers- caught trouble while airborne in the cloudless sky of Masbate and moments later, nosedived at lightning speed to the still waters below, like an eagle headshot by a sniper's bullet.  It was one of those rare tragedies that make us shake our head. Only that, on that fateful afternoon, when the sun was poised to retreat to its sanctuary, such tragedy would wrack a nation already beaten by natural calamities. Most importantly, it would stun typhoon-ravaged Bicolandia from whence came one of the men on board the ill-fated plane, whose only desire was to rush to the embrace of his wife and daughters. It was to be a happy, private homecoming. It ended up into national mourning. Our  Jesse Robredo, secretary of DILG and former Mayor of Naga City,  one pride of Bicol believed to be poised for greatness, has fallen. My Bicolano heart  is pierced with inexplicable grief

Learning from the Heart Lately, I've been brooding over the idea of unschooling.What is at its core, and why do some families adhere to it? Browsing through  various articles on the net, I found out what it is and what it is not. Here are snippets of ideas  worth ruminating: What it is Not 1. It is not putting on the brakes in learning. You do not stop learning when you embrace unschooling. 2.It is not a relentless pursuit of fun or satiation of personal appetites and enjoyment.You cannot just do as you please and abandon your sense of right and wrong. 3.It is not despising formal learning situations and opportunities. What it is 1. It is a change in paradigm on learning, premised on the following quote of George Bernard Shaw: "The child should be the one in pursuit of  knowledge, not knowledge in pursit of the child."  2. It is living first and learning along the way. The desire to learn according to John Holt is innate in man - as

     Majority of jeepney drivers in the metropolis are a bunch of rascals who have no regard for traffic rules and pedestrian rights. Anywhere I go, I notice they are of the same mold - rough, reckless, desensitized. They might as well have been racing toward death's door every time they speed off and blow a whirr of black, stinky smoke that mercilessly engulfs and chokes poor pedestrians like me. Often I find myself mentally cursing these drivers and giving them long deadly stares as if by doing so, they would lessen the pressure on their pedals and use the brakes often.          Just last night, while I was with my son after closing a mall for the umpteenth time, I had another encounter with some hooligan drivers. We had just alighted from a jeepney and were about to cross the pedestrian lane when from out of the gates of hell, a loadful of PUJ came rushing through, like a flying bullet determined to finish off its target. Worse, my son and I were exactly in the pedestrian l