It always pops in my mind—being brave in 2017. Not that I’m a coward but there are some aspects of my life and decision that I’d rather not think or discuss about.
I’d like to get out of my comfort zone in 2017, face my fears and finally move on with heads up high.
I’d like to create wealth that I could give to my children when I leave the world.
I’d like to take care of my father more and if possible, bring him here with me.
I’d like to try new things, meet new people and create more happy memories.
I’d like to buy a new set of wardrobe in preparation for my life-begins-at-40 journey.
I’d like to be a wildflower again as I was called during my college years—wild in the sense that I managed to survive in the harsh climate and surroundings.
I rendered overtime with my bestfriend. I wanted to forget that that day was my birthday. I could have went home to my family and celebrate there but I chose to stay at work and just let the day pass.
You texted me a birthday greeting. Tears fell down my face. Just a month ago, you transferred to the big city to start a new career. I was left by myself and I felt so alone.
You said that you have a package wrapped in pink. I was anticipating that it was a ring.
“If you want her, put a ring on it!” I could hear Beyonce’s words.
You texted to ask where I was. I said that I intend to go home very late.
You said that I should not be working late on my birthday.
And advised me to just have dinner with my bestfriend.
Alma and I were walking when somebody put an arm around my shoulder.
My first reaction was to fight; Alma was just as equally shocked.
Then Alma’s reaction shifted from fear to joy.
It was you, yes you, clad in pink!
You kissed me and said “Happy birthday!”
It was the best birthday surprise of my life!
Years later, you broke my heart and we parted ways.
Yet that birthday surprise is still in my memory.
Thank you for this memory, it is worth remembering.
Katanghaliang tapat sa isang bayan sa Bulacan, binabagtas namin ang daan pauwi. Madaraanan ang mga naglalako ng iba’t ibang klaseng paninda.
Naroon ang isang lolang nakaupo sa bangketa. Lilinga-linga sa mga suking pwedeng alukin. Ang mga gulay na nakalatag sa plastik na pantakip ay halos nalalanta na. Ang iba ay nilalamon na ng alikabok. Naisip ko, “sino kaya ang pwedeng bumili sa paninda nya sa lagay na iyon?” Ito ay hindi panlilibak kundi isang matapat na pagtatanong kung paano makakayang ubusin ang paninda gayong may mga pwesto sa loob ng palengke na mas sariwa pa ang gulay.
Sa isang sulok naman ay ang nagtitinda ng donut. Donut na pang-masa at hindi ang nasa isip nating Mr. Donut o Dunkin. Naka-hair net, naka-lipstick, maayos ang porma ng tindera kumpara sa mga katabing nagtitinda ng gulay, damit at iba pa. Mukhang masaya naman sya sa kanyang ginagawa kahit isang munting bangko lang ang inuupuan at nakukuntento sa pamaypay na pamawi ng init.
May mga batang kailangang businahan, mga nagtitinda ng garter. Payat ang mga bata at sa tantya ko ay nasa 9-11 taong gulang. Mabilis akong maawa sa mga batang maagang nasabak sa hanapbuhay. Sa Waltermart kung saan kami madalas mag-grocery, siniguro kong palagi akong may trenta pesos sa bulsa para pambili ng 1 basahan kada punta. Sa maliit na bagay, nabibigyang-pag-asa natin ang mga bata na may naniniwala sa kanilang pagsisikap.
Eto namang si manong takatak, muntik pa kaming mapa-preno ng biglaan. Ang takatak boys ay walang pakundangan basta mairaos ang benta. Biglang susulpot para humabol sa jeepney. Sa konting puhunan at kita, sapat na ang maghapong pantawid sa gutom.
Wala ka talagang masasabi sa pagtitiis ng Pilipino. Umulan, umaraw, nariyan silang nagbabakasali. Sila ang mga Pilipinong patas kung lumaban. Hindi nagnanakaw, hindi gumagawa ng masama para mabuhay. Sila ang mga Pilipinong tinatanggihan ng ospital dahil walang pambayad o dili kaya ay nagkakasya na lang sa pasilyo ng ospital para magamot lamang. Sila ang mga Pilipinong tinatawaran ang paninda at pumapayag naman maibenta lamang. Sila ang mga Pilipinong hindi sinwerte sa materyal na bagay kung kaya’t ang tanging pangarap ay malamnan ang tyan ng pamilya. Sila ang masisipag na Pilipino na matiisin at mapangarapin. Aalisin pa ba natin ang karapatan nilang yun?
I feel bad for 5 year-old Omran Daqneesh, the young boy from Syria who was a victim of airstrike. While boys of his age are fighting over toys or ice cream, there he is, shocked and zombie-like.
While some people are worrying over what food to eat for dinner, Omran is probably worrying about the next airstrike.
While some teenagers are complaining about their lovelife, Omran is probably figuring out if he will get the chance to go to school, grow up and marry someday.
While some religious groups are bickering and putting each other down, Omran is probably praying for world peace.
While most of us are complaining about how little we have in life, how stressful our job is, how inconsiderate our boss is, how lazy our children are; Omran is probably wishing for a safe place to stay. Just a safe place.
Most of us feel bad for not being rich enough, not being beautiful enough, not being loved enough; Omran probably needs a warm hug and a mother’s love.
We always blame the government, the people who betrayed us, the exes who left us, the traffic, the pollution, global warming, even same-sex marriage—-yet we spared ourselves from blaming ourselves.
We demand for love yet we give conditional love.
We demand for a good life yet we are too lazy and incompetent to build a better life.
We demand for a good relationship but we are the ones destroying our relationship.
We demand for peace yet most of us are superficial.
We become too affected by one horrifying picture yet we’re just like that—affected!
We don’t lift a finger to help because we’re afraid of the responsibilities.
And those who must be responsible do not want to be responsible.
Make a difference each day. Think of Omran. Think of the other children who are suffering.
My fascination with missing children story started with the Madeleine Mccann case. My feelings are not out of entertainment but rather of empathy. I feel for the Mccanns and the Needhams and I sincerely wish that Madeleine and Ben would someday be back to their families.
In 1997, 2-year old Earl Dollente was kidnapped while picking flowers for Mrs. Laurie Dollente. The Dollente family tried their best to find Earl but all efforts were fruitless. Almost 19 years later, Mrs. Laurie Dollente resorted to social media to find her missing son. She is suffering from stage 4-lung cancer so you can just imagine how battered this wonderful mother is physically and emotionally.
A certain Armstrong Miggy posted his gut feeling that he could be the missing boy when he watched Mrs. Laurie Dollente on “Kapuso Mo Jessica Soho.” Netizens gave their support and wished with him that this story would have a favourable and happy ending.
Just when the excitement of the netizens are at its peak, Armstrong Miggy deactivated his Facebook account. It is understandable because of privacy and security reasons. He is probably in touch with the Dollentes for verification like the DNA test and he would like some privacy until the result is released.
Personally, I wish that this story would have a happy ending. Mrs. Laurie Dollente has suffered a lot along with Mr. Ernest Dollente and their daughter Patty. Whatever is the result, I pray that all of them will accept it.
Update as of November 17, 2016:
I am sorry to say that Armstrong Miggy is a fraud! How could Melvin Maniacop aka. Armstrong Miggy afford to create a lie as big as that? Mrs. Dollente is sick and the whole family is affected and then there is this psychotic who did more harm than good by fabricating lies and manipulating feelings.
Update as of September 16, 2018:
Mrs. Laurie Dollente passed away (not sure if it’s September 14 or 15) after two years of battling cancer. I am heartbroken for her family and Earl, too. I still hope that he would find his way home soon. Mrs. Dollente gave her best fight; let us continue to pray and search for her missing son.
The World of Second Chances 