Bela's Story

Marcel Sternberger worked in New York City. To get to work he took the Long Island Railroad. He did this every day.

One day a friend of his became critically ill so he went to the hospital to visit him. That took his whole morning so he had to take the noon train back to work—a train he had never been on before in his entire life. He didn’t like the crowds. He got into the car. It was shoulder-to-shoulder and no empty seats. When suddenly, one guy realizing he just about missed his stop, jumped and bolted out the door. Voila! Right there and there was a seat for Marcel Sternberger. He sat down.

The guy next to him was reading a paper. It happened to be a Hungarian newspaper. Marcel Sternberger had been to Hungary numerous times. He knew Hungarian. He began to kind of read over this guy’s shoulder and then he said, “Sir, I see you’re looking on the want ads. Are you looking for a job?”

The guy said, “No. I am looking for my wife.”

“I don’t understand,” said Sternberger.

The man began an incredible story. He said, “In the Second World War, I was taken by the Nazis to help bury the German dead in the Ukraine. They took me away from my wife. After I was finished, I went home and my wife was taken, I thought, perhaps to a concentration camp to Auschwitz. I never saw my wife again.

“I live with this hope that she was rescued. You see, we lived in Debrecen in Hungary. We were happy. In Auschwitz almost 2 million people were killed. Still I cling to this hope that somehow, she may have been rescued by the Allied soldiers… Maybe somehow she found her way to the United States… Maybe even here in New York. I’m looking for her today in the want ads.”

As Marcel Sternberger listened to the story, something sounded familiar and he couldn’t quite put a finger on it and after a few minutes he said, “Oh, I wonder…”

Marcel took out from his wallet a crumbled piece of paper and opened it up. There was a name on it: Maria.

Marcel said to the man, “Sir, where did you say you were from?”

“Debrecen in Hungary.”

Marcel taught the city was familiar. He had met a certain Maria at a party about six months before. She said she was from Hungary, from the city of Debrecen. She said her husband had been taken by the Nazis in the Second World War. And that she didn’t know what happened to him.

And he thought in his mind, “I just wonder… Her name was Maria Paskin…” And there on the piece of paper was her phone number.

“What’s your name?” Marcel asked.

“Bela Paskin.”

“Sir, would you get off with me at the next stop?”

The stranger named Bela Paskin did. They got off at the next stop. Marcel walked over to a telephone booth and dialed the number. He kept Bela away from him. He said, “Hello.”

A woman answered the phone. She said hello.

“Ma’am, who is this?”

“My name is Maria,” she said.

“Maria, do you remember me? My name is Marcel Sternberger. I met you at a party about six months ago. You told me about your experiences in Europe and missing your husband. Can you tell me if you remember me?”

“Oh, certainly I remember you, sir. How are you doing?”

“Maria, what street did you live on in Hungary?” He had asked Bela before and she gave the street address and it matched.

“Maria, what’s the name of your husband?”

“Bela, sir. Bela Paskin.”

Marcel called Bela over and said, “My friend, you are about to witness the most incredible miracle in your entire life. Marcel handed Bela the phone. Bela put the phone to his ear and tears began to stream down his face and all he could say was, “Maria… Maria… Maria…”

Coincidence? Universal Mind? Or a God who writes our own life stories—who calls Himself the Author of Life? You decide.

The Second Circle, by Patsy Rodenburg

I devoured this book as soon as I received in but soon realized it needs a slower, more alert and careful reading. I just finished reading it the other day and I must say, Patsy Rodenburg's "The Second Circle" deserves a second reading (and a third, a fourth, and so on). There is just so much gems of practical advice in the book: it's a treasure chest!

Patsy talks about the energy we were all born with as our birthright. She explains the three Circles of energy, and her thesis that living in the Second Circle is the only way to live fully in the present life. She then gives exercises to initiate us into Second Circle and help us abide in it.

Now I am a slow learner. I don't read a book and then be able to say, "A ha! I got it! I know what the author is trying to say." This is good because this book deserves to be worked through. The exercises have to be experienced to be able to encounter Second Circle and BE in Second Circle.

The exercises work and I am seeing much improvement with my work and relations. I plan to integrate these exercises into my life.

If you see "The Dog Whisperer" on TV, what the show host is talking about with dogs, that Presence, is exactly the same with what Patsy is talking about, but Patsy shows you how to use this Present Second Circle Energy into every area of your life.

The principles and exercises are applicable to whatever situation you are in. Read the book, try the exercises, experiment with the principles, and suit them to fit your life!

The 33rd Manila International Book Fair

The place was packed when we got to the SMX Convention. Yeah, here are booklovers braving the rain and traffic to come together and celebrate literature.

Recently in the news, they said that reading is dropping among Filipinos. Fewer and fewer Filipinos are picking up books to read. I wondered how they arrived at that conclusion. In the news report, they showed a sharp decline in visits to local public libraries. That’s understandable. I think most readers in the Filipinos would rather a) download an e-book version, or b) buy from a bookstore. Bookstores are fine and all, but there’s nothing like owning your own copy.

Speaking of owning, in the MIBF I bought:
1. A coloring and activity book for Dana
2. The Wolf Gift, by Anne Rice. Fiction. I held out for so long from purchasing this book, and now I gave myself persmission. Feels gooooooood!
3. Mozart’s Ghost, by Julia Cameron. Fiction. A snail-paced romance. Will reserve for days I don’t like to think too much.
4. Secrets of the Alexander Technique. Non-Fiction. I forget the author just now, but Alexander is something I want to learn right now and add to my arsenal of acting tools for the next time I take to the stage.
5. The Bible in World History, by Stephen Leston. Non-Fiction. A sort-of almanac situating biblical events in world history. I just began reading it and I love the illustrations.

Today I finished reading The Second Circle, by Patsy Rodenburg. I’ll need to give this book a second reading, and a third, and a fourth. It’s one of those books I need to go back to over and over again to fully absorb. I don’t mind. I am a slow learner, but I don’t easily forget something I learned.

I’m racing through Stephen King’s On Writing, too, so I can finally focus The Picture of Dorian Gray. Oscar Wilde deserved his last name.

Martial Law thoughts

We belong to the generation that asks of the Martial Law: "Was it really that bad?" We have poor or zero recollection of the past. It has been 40 years.

It is hard to write something that is foreign—outside of myself. About two months ago, I was invited to attend the book launch of Tibak Rising, stories of the Revolution. What’s more, I was asked to use my thespic skills and read excerpts from one of the essays in the book. Tibak Rising is a great read. I got amazing insight into the lives of activists during the Martial Law from firsthand accounts.

The closest I can get to exploring Martial Law in depth was through a play I did before: Griselda Gambaro’s Information for Foreigners. Under the direction of Anton Juan, we traversed lives of the desaperacidos, weaving in and out of the audience these stories that few newspapers care to report.

Today, on the 40th Anniversary of the Declaration of Martial Law, I remember the many Communists, men, women, rebels, activists, artists, who lost their lives because they rose against a dictator.

It’s been said that the only thing it takes for evil to prosper is for good men to do nothing. We’re Filipinos. The blood of dictators, traitors, heroes, and revolutionaries, run through our veins. The question is, which side are you on?

Look around you. There is still evil lurking around. Will you stand around and do nothing?

Quitting Smoking, Quitting You

I will smoke my last twenty cigarettes
In memory of you.

One stick for your secret kisses in the Fire Exit
Two for those kisses when you bite my lip.
Four sticks I’ll burn for the times we made love.
Like our mingled laughter the smoke
dissipates and depletes the ozone.

Three sticks I’ll burn for your tight hugs
How I buried my face in your neck
And felt safe all through the night.

One stick for the smell of my cologne
That has rubbed off on your skin
When I pressed next to you.

One stick for how you kept my nails neat
And taught me what clothes to wear
And how you’ve always been there
When I didn’t expect you to.

One stick for the dinners, and the movies, and the plays
One more for getting my jokes even in the bad days.

Two sticks for keeping my heart’s secrets
And two more for entrusting me with yours
I tried to listen to the music on your phone
Two broken hearts strumming along.

One stick, I’ll keep, to carry a wish
That fate will cancel out all your regret.

I’ll smoke my last puff, down deep in my belly
I know it feels right as I know it is killing me
And your love, like a cancer, I will snuff right
out…
          of…
                   my…
                             life

Hotel Stotsenberg

We're back from Clark, Pampanga where we did absolutely... nothing! Haha! While Veck was out on the pediatric conferences, Dana vegetated in front of Nick Jr., and would release excess energy by jumping up and down the beds or running up and down the halls screaming so her voice would echo. I whiled the hours away reading "A Bottle of Storm Cloud Stories" by Eliza Victoria laying in a hot bath. When I got bored I sang "Sana Maulit Muli" out loud. I wanted to go to Zoocobia but we couldn't fit it in our schedule. So we opted to stay in the hotel premises instead.
Hotel Stotsenberg I imagine resembled a nun cloister or a boarding school in London. The building is a square, with a wide square courtyard, with a fountain in the center of the courtyard. Our room was 305C, which meant Hall C, third floor.

The place was empty except for the pediatric delegates. There were very few other guests. Walking up and down the halls trying to locate the swimming pool and the gym with Dana trotting by my side, I plotted a novel in my mind I can set in here. I have been writing fiction for the longest time. It's a joy that matches the exhiliration of being onstage. But I usually just hide my fiction in drawers, or lose them. I have an ambition: be published. But to be published, I first have to write a novel, and a good one. That I plan to do a few pages each day after shift. What are long bus rides home for?

The Manila International Book Fair 2012 is open at the SMX Convention Center near SM MOA only until Sunday, September 16. I haven't gone but I must! Who's going? When? Once a week Dana asks to be brought to Pandayan, the only bookstore in Malolos. A trip to the bookstores excites her. I want to see her eyes pop out when I bring her to MIBF! Halls and halls of books of all kinds!

Back at the Hotel Stotsenberg. The water costs P44 per 500mL bottle, so in the evening after dinner Veck and I decided we'll just go to the nearest 7Eleven and buy water from there. The "nearest" 7Eleven turned out to be a full 30 minutes walk away, and I carried Dana in my arms who loved to be up in her Daddy's arms. We passed by vacant lots, abandoned buildings, rows and rows of trees. Naturally I saw some elementals that let's just say the normal eye wouldn't see.

Veck kept asking, "What is it? What is it? What are you looking at?" Of course I didn't want to scare my wife so I steered the conversation into what the convention was about. Veck then told me about the advances in the study of Autism and ADHD in the Philippines. Now that's a topic that isn't scary at all! Apparently, it wasn't a good idea to walk out at this time of night. There were no other pedestrians beside us. I whispered a prayer under my breath.

Sometimes Dana would wave at the shadows and Veck would laugh. "She loves playing pretend games," Veck said. If only Dana was pretending. I saw what Dana was waving at.

When 7Eleven was near sight, there were three tambays quarreling over a cellphone, and some scantily clad girls at the corner. I knew they were up to no good, so I squeezed Veck's hand as a signal for us to cross to the other side of the street. A car stopped in front of tambays. One of them, the one who "won" the cellphone by wrenching it out of the others, approached the car window. Then one of the girls came over, opened the door, and got in the passenger seat. Neat.

It must've been the unfriendliest 7Eleven ever. When we got there the other customers eyed us curiously. We bought a tall bottle of Wilkins and debated whether Dana deserved chocolates that late at night. On the walk back home, Dana promptly fell asleep on my shoulder. (She would remain asleep for the rest of the night.) My eye fell on a tree a few yards in front of us. Beside the tree there was a child with a frozen look of horror on her face. Then the apparition disappeared.

I pretended I didn't see anything. I told Veck maybe we should just wait for a jeep to pass by that we can ride back to the hotel. We waited but no jeeps passed by. Then a car passed by. Its windows were down. The driver looked at us. Then it stopped right in front of the tree. The child appeared again and then was gone.

Veck said, "I don't feel comfortable approaching that car." Better listen to a woman's intution. Not only that, in my head I heard the child's scream: "Stop!"

The car remained parked and flashed on its hazard. Veck and I crossed to the other side of the street and started walking again. After a few moments the car started again and sped past us.

Then it hit me. Prostitutes at the corner. Few people out in the dark. Did the driver think we were selling our daughter? Yikes! Which leads me to thinking. All these "elementals"... they can't hurt you anyway. There's no need to fear them. Sometimes it's fellow humans we need to be wary of. Is it any coincidence that the apparition chose the form of a child when it warned us?

Finally, when you have God's protection, you've nothing to fear. We arrived at the hotel without incident. I put Dana to bed. Veck put diapers on her. We saw some episodes of Dog Whisperer and drifted off to sleep.

Some good things never last

It pays to listen to the signals of the Universe. For example, if you keep meeting your ex in the last few days, find out the status of your current relationship. See if you’re in danger of losing him or her and gaining another ex.

Dreams should be listened to as well. I once dreamed my father died. But I knew he wanted me to reach down into the pockets of his corpse in the coffin and get the loads of money he hid down there. I knew what the dream meant at that time and glad I heeded it.

Recently, I bumped into an ex. It’s kind of hard to avoid the person at that moment. I realize I didn’t have hard feelings on the ex. I wasn’t angry at the person. In fact I only have compassion for X.

What I realized was that I was angry at myself. I saw how I ordered my life around that person, fixing and rescheduling my days and weekends to suit X’s. I was angry at myself for playing the fool, moving mountains just to spend a little more time with X when we were still a couple.

I remember sharply the day this hit me. This was long ago. We were supposed to watch a play. I reserved our tickets, made arrangements for getting leaves from work, and planned to stay out to the wee hours of the night in Taumbayan. Taumbayan is a bar where theater actors hang out. I thought it’d be interesting to go there after watching the play.

On that day, hours before our date, I learned my date wasn’t having a good time. A series of events caused agitated my date. I thought to call off the theater date, but hoped that maybe, if we have a good time in the theater, it would make up for the sour day my date had. My date’s reply was that yes, we’ll still go.

While waiting at our rendezvous, and after unreplied messages and unanswered calls, I got worried. Boy, how bad was it?

Finally, I got the dignity of a BBM: “I’m not in the mood to watch anymore.”

Now, under the circumstances this was perfectly understandable. The person was having a bad day and I didn’t want to impose. But then it hit me:

In the relationship I bended over backwards for this person, and just for a “mood” your date wouldn’t show. For a mood. That’s all I was worth. If the mood was not right, then there’s no seeing me.

I recalled the many times when I was tired, hungry, fraught, and yet still showed up when we agreed to. And here I was, being dumped for a mood.

People, beware. You teach people who to treat you by how you treat yourself. I did the only thing that would save my self-respect: I walked out on the relationship.

This is not to say I didn’t try to wheedle my way back in. I tried texting, asking if we can talk it out. Then I realize, if we do get back together, I will forever be at the mercy of that person’s mood.

When marriage vows are exchanged, couples do not say, “I feel” or “I will” or “Yeah… yeah…” The say, “I do.” That means loving no matter what your mood is. You want to find a person who sees you for your worth and would move mountains for you just as you would for them. You want a person who knows the value of commitment.

For example, I remember Jeff going to Cambodia because he made a commitment. No matter if he was going there with an ex who hurt him. It was a commitment and it was meant to be kept. That’s the kind of person you want to be with. (Right, Geli?) You don’t want someone who will drop you depending on their current mood.

Dana Discovers Barasaoin Sweets

Barasaoin Sweets is located in front of the Barasaoin Church (famous for its history and a cat sleeping on its hot tin roof). It has been there even before Mommy Jenny was born (no fact-checking has been done to authenticate this. I don’t know when Mommy Jenny was born.)

I bet Barasaoin Sweets is as much a historical landmark to Malolenos (yeah, that’s how they’re called. I was pushing for “Malolosers” but they didn’t like the connotation) as much as the Church. It has been feeding Malolenos and Bulacenos with ensaymada with salted egg for generations. I bet during its time it was a booming business.

Right now, I hardly see customers enter their doors. There is a Red Ribbon right beside it and I don’t know if that affected their business or people just forgot (as most Filipinos are wont to forget).

Veck wanted me to try the bangus pobre in Red Ribbon so we were there one day for lunch. Dana threw a terrific tantrum because she wanted to have some candy sprinkles on the Red Ribbon cakes on display. No amount of explaining that those aren’t for sale unless you buy a whole cake and we couldn’t possibly finish the whole of it in one sitting. And no way are we taking home a dedication chocolate cake just for the sprinkles!

Veck suggested I take Dana to the next door Barasaoin Sweets and see if we could buy candy sprinkles. As Dana and I entered the doors I swore I saw a vision of people lined up for orders, people filling up the tables happily eating with families and noisily chattering and laughing. The vision vanished and the place was empty.

A lady asked us what we wanted. On the display were rows of crystal jars that stored confectionary flowers. I asked the lady how much they sold those flowers and when she looked at Dana, she gave Dana ten flowers and said they’re free. Wow! You don’t receive kindness from strangers often these days. And here Dana was getting a bouquet of candies.

Wow! I thanked the lady profusely and promised myself to eat there soon. I’ll sink my teeth into authentic Malolos ensaymada even if all I have for company is my notebook and pen.

Be A Star!

Here’s a stellar exercise that’s sure to make you shine! This is an easy way to be the star that you are!

Remember Da Vinci’s Vitruvian man? We are going to stretch our muscles that way.

• Remember to keep breathing through this exercise.
• Place feet parallel and evenly on the floor. Distribute your weight evenly from the heels, to the balls of your feet, to the big toes of the feet.
• Unlock the knees and keep them unclamped.
• Engage your thighs, tuck your tailbone, and square your hips.
• Take a breath, and as you do, widen your stance and stretch your arms to the side.
• Generally stretch from fingertip to fingertip in one line of energy.
• Now gently drop your right arm to your side. Relax your shoulder and let your arm find its natural position.
• Stretch your left arm lifting it now at a higher angle. Be careful not to pull the shoulder. Drop your shoulder away from the ear but keep stretching.
• Now do the same for the right arm.
• Elongate the back of the neck.
• You are now a star! Energy is flowing out of your toes and fingertips. Slowly lower your arms, put your feet together, and feel the alertness.

How King beats the Censor

I am reading Stephen King's On Writing, his treatise on writing fiction. I highly recommend it to everyone, writers and non-writers alike, because it's very entertaining. King is witty and humorous here, a side we don't see in his novels of the dark and macabre.

On Writing gives you insight into the mind of one of the most successful novelists of our time.

I also suspect that what he says about writing can be applied, with personal and intelligent adjustment, to one's own current career.

Here's a quote from the book:

With the door shut, downloading what’s in my head directly to the page, I write as fast as I can and still remain comfortable. Writing fiction, especially a long work of fiction, can be a difficult, lonely job; it’s like crossing the Atlantic

Ocean in a bathtub. There’s plenty of opportunity for selfdoubt. If I write rapidly, putting down my story exactly as it comes into my mind, only looking back to check the names of my characters and the relevant parts of their back stories, I find that I can keep up with my original enthusiasm and at the same time outrun the self-doubt that’s always waiting to settle in.

This is the same trick that Natalie Goldberg, poet, painter, and author of Banana Rose employs. Write fast! Do your writing practice and write faster than your Internal Editor can catch up with you. Don't think too much, Nat says, in her rules for writing practice:

1. Keep your hand moving.
When you sit down to write, whether it’s for ten minutes or an hour, once you begin, don’t stop. If an atom bomb drops at your feet eight minutes after you have begun and you were going to write for ten minutes, don’t budge. You’ll go out writing.

2. Lose control.
Say what you want to say. Don’t worry if it’s correct, polite, appropriate. Just let it rip.

3. Be specific.
Not car, but Cadillac. Not fruit, but apple. Not bird, but wren. Not a codependent, neurotic man, but Harry, who runs to open the refrigerator for his wife, thinking she wants an apple, when she’s headed for the gas stove to light her cigarette. Be careful of those pop-psychology labels. Get below the label and be specific to the person.

4. Don’t think.
We usually live in the realm of second or third thoughts, thoughts on thoughts, rather than in the realm of first thoughts, the real way we flash on something. Stay with the first flash.

5. Don’t worry about punctuation, spelling, grammar.

6. You are free to write the worst junk ever.

7. Go for the jugular.
If something scary comes up, go for it. That’s where the energy is. Otherwise, you’ll spend all your time writing around whatever makes you nervous.

Creativity guru Julia Cameron has written lots of books on creativity. In these books she showers you with hundreds of exercises for examination and self-discovery. She also prescribes the same formula. Write fast.

So you have a story or an idea of a story in your head right now. This essay ends here. Go! Write! Do it fast! Burn through to original thoughts.

Learning to act again

I am reading "The Actor Speaks" by Patsy Rodenburg. I'm still at the first few pages and already I got these gems of insight! The following are quotes I culled from the book.

Actors come from all kinds of backgrounds and from around the world. They are all different shapes, sizes and temperaments. But they each share something in common -- they all want to be actors.

Imagine that! The way she puts it, there is no one right shape, size or temperament to be an actor. There is no proper background or ethnicity! The invitation is open, wide open to anyone. The one thing in common is the desire to be an actor -- to experience the range of human emotion and thought and express all of that with truth and clarity on the stage!

This frees me from forever auditioning to be something other than what I am; from comparing my insides to other actors' outsides. It frees me to begin to create and contribute from where I am, from who I am. And that means where we are and who we are is where we all begin to be actors.

Patsy describes her students: "Each one has talent. Everyone is brimming with energy and passion." So... those are the primary ingredients. Talent, energy, passion. Energy, you're born with. That's your birthright. We all were born with amazing energy coming out of our mother's wombs, screaming our entrance into the world.

Now, this energy is either stolen from us or denied by abusive people or life-altering events. This can be regained and this is the thesis of her book "The Second Circle" which I highly recommend everyone to read.

As for the other ingredients: talent and passion, well, those are somethings only God can give. (The truth is, your life energy came from God, too). If you're not sure you have talent or passion, then use your available energy and start praying to get the other two. And when you do get them, do everything you can to stoke and develop them!

Ultimately, as wannabe actors, our goal and reason for training is, as Patsy says, "To speak on-stage with power, clarity and confidence... For me that is what acting is all about."

Some Office Yoga

For tired eyes, rub your palms together and generate some heat. Place palms gently over closed eyes. The warmth should dissipate through your eyelids and help relax your eyes.

Now, for slouchers such as myself, sitting on the office chair for hours can wreak havoc on your back alignment. Our spine slumps, our shoulders cave forward, and our breathing shallows. A gentle exercise done every break time should correct this.

Sit at the edge of your chairs. Make sure your seatbones are in contact with the edge of the chair. Place your feet evenly on the floor hip-width apart. Make sure your knees are at a 90-degree angle.

Put your fists below your lower back and just above your buttocks. Inhale deeply, and as you exhale, push your fists, open your chest, draw your elbows in, and look up. Aaaah! Relief!

Rains and dreams

Last night I had a weird dream. I was on a jeepney. It was late in the night. The driver dropped me off at an open air night bazaar in the middle of a dark wood.

The ceramic shop I entered was well lit, and sold other furniture and home decor. I wasn’t interested so I went out and found a secondhand/rares bookstore.

I found an illustrated “The Witching Hour” by Anne Rice, but I couldn’t recognize the text. There was some other book I liked, too, but I knew I couldn’t blow my last P1000 bill in my pocket on books.

Turns out Anne Rice was sitting in a desk inside the bookstore, so I knew I had to buy these books and get them signed. But alas! My P1000 turned into a P20 bill. Even on a discount I couldn’t buy these books.

Anne took my right foot and autographed her on name across the ball and toes of my foot. Then she wrote her initials on the sole of my left foot.

I woke up thinking I should dash to the only bookstore in Malolos (Pandayan Bookshop) and buy Anne Rice books.

But maybe the dream meant something else. Maybe I should set out and follow in the footsteps of one of my favorite novelists. Maybe I should write, too.

Luzon and Visayas continue to be battered by rain and floods. Snow Patrol fans are banging their brains out in the concert in Araneta. The Congressmen debated on the RH Bill. I want to go home and do sitting meditation. I don’t want to go to work.

Two nights ago the Bayan, Malolos’s market center, blazed in fire. The rain and the strong winds aggravated the situation. This morning fire trucks barricaded the entrance to the Bayan. It was the cleanest I ever saw that place. No flood. No litter.

I didn’t find the banana and pineapple stores I frequent.
On my way now to work and everything is wet. High school students are happy about the early announcement of class suspension tomorrow. I didn’t go to the film audition I wanted to go to earlier today. Hm. I don’t know what’s to become of me.

2012 Birthday Wish List

It's August 4! Tomorrow I turn 31. And no, I do not post anything profound or particularly earth-shaking on my birthday.

Instead, I post a gift wish list. It's okay, no one's ever gifted me anything anyway. That's why I shamelessly re-post my list annually. It's become tradition.

You never know. I just might get a secret Santa this year.

So here's my list:

1. a rechargeable razor
2. The Prosperous Heart, by Julia Cameron
3. The Wolf Gift, by Anne Rice
4. The Complete Calvin and Hobbes

And I actually drew a blank. What a short list this year. Hm. Interesting. Maybe it comes with the age?

New blog at WordPress

On why I have a new blog now at writerico.wordpress.com

This is a short history of how Rico (that’s me) has come upon starting a blog on WordPress.

My first blog, the BB Files, was hosted on multiply. It was bongerbongerbonger.multiply.com. I truly loved the multiply platform. It was easy to use, idiot-friendly, and allowed me to be connected to my blogging friends. Way before FB ever was, there was Multiply.

I abandoned Multiply when it became nothing more than a market site. Plus, a blogger told me only ABSCBN earns revenue from my entries. I ought to move to google blog, he said, which gives me the opportunity to monetize my blog.

That gave birth to writerico.blogspot.com, and a lot of my old entries from multiply were transferred to my blogger.com site. It was fun, simplistic, and yes, I earn a few cents each time someone clicked on the ads.

About two months ago we moved to Malolos City, Bulacan. We moved because Veck wanted to practice pediatrics and there was a clinic there that needed a doctor. So, we migrated, and I had to give up the comfort of internet service at home. I had to say hello to long commutes to and from Malolos to Taguig where I work.

I didn’t think I would survive the two hours on the road doing nothing. Sometimes I read, which I love, but I do wish I can use the time for self-expression as well.

So I got myself a new BB again–a gift from my loving wife, Veck. Not without drama I said the only way I can survive the long bus rides is if I could write.

To my dismay I found it was close to impossible to compose and post a blog entry on Blogger using my BB device. I contacted Blogger.com about this through their Send Feedback link on their dashboard but nothing happened. I gave up on the idea and consigned myself to an artless, creation-less commute in a cramped van.

I subscribe to several blogs and I was reading one of Joel C Rosenburg, the author and political analyst, and outspoken Christian and Israeli supporter. At the bottom of his blog, which is hosted by WordPress, I found a link where one can download a BB app for WordPress. Lights began turning on in my head. If I can start a blog on WordPress, it may be easier to blog, and it’s the whole reason I wanted a BlackBerry in the first place!

So, finally, I present to the world, and whoever cares to listen, WriteRico.WordPress.com. In the world of Twitter and Facebook and other microblogging networks, here I am, typing my thoughts with words and sentences on a blog. Do people still read blogs? I don’t know. I still do. But I’m old school.

I’m excited about this blog and I hope I never run out of things to write about.

Photos for JB

They whom I hold dearest

About a week ago there was some slight furore among the writers in our office. The management will open an email support team and the application is open to everyone. All you do is to submit an essay the person you value most in your life, and three sample email correspondence, and then they judge if you're up for the job or not.

This is the entry I submitted:

(I didn't get the post, but even then, I think the essay that came out of me, I feel, is a winner.)

They whom I hold dearest
by Rico D. del Rosario

Shall I be sentimental and say my Dad, Engr. Rene C. del Rosario, Jr., is the most important person in my life? Or must I be devoted and describe my darling daughter, Dana Keziah, in doting detail? Should I be patriotic and talk about the Philippine hero, Dr. Jose Rizal and his self-sacrificial contribution to the nation? Or be romantic and extol the virtues of my wife, Marivic? Shall I assume the stance of the political activist and talk about Ninoy Aquino and his legacy to Filipinos? Must I put on the manner of the religious and idealize Mother Teresa? Yes, I can do all these things, and yet still be left wondering: who really is the most important person in my life? Just how does one answer such a question?

I take a path most familiar to me--a path, that is, sadly, has become unpopular in our times. This is the same path I take whenever I am graced with the opportunity to launch myself onto the stage. I choose to answer the question with honesty. And my honest answer to that question is: MYSELF.

My self is the most important person for me. It is my self that I force out of bed each evening and marshal to face the first cold splash of water in the shower. My self that, coming home from work tired and sleep-starved, chooses to play with Dana in her latest pretend game. It is my self that tries his best to be a strong and gentle husband to Veck, cherishing her trust and nurturing her dreams.

It is my self that braves the hour-long bus ride from Malolos to Cubao, and then the train ride from Cubao to Makati. It is my self that takes step after step on my lean, slow legs to Net Plaza and take calls. It is my self that immerses himself in another human being and portray him truthfully and faithfully on the stage.

But what is self? Is it really that important? I sit down in meditation and observe my breath. I cross my legs, straighten my back, close my eyes, and try to sit still. I observe my body and try to remain aware even as my monkey mind races on, flitting from one thought to another, buzzing with ideas about the world, my latest QA markdown, the amount of rice left in our Kyowa grains dispenser, the rising price of milk. The question remains, "What is the self?"

My mind meanders to the past--what this advisor said about me in a snide remark and how I was too dumbfounded to retort. How I was bullied in high school and loved Literature like mad. How Dana and Veck looked exactly alike fast asleep last night. I remember my grandfather proudly showing all the neighbors a small blackboard where I wrote the alphabet and the numbers 1 to 100 when I was four. I remember my Dad weeping when I told him I flunked college, and how terrible I felt. And my Dad weeping again during my wedding and how wonderful I felt. I remember how Dana was born all purple and wrinkly, screaming and kicking, with the umbilical cord coiled around her neck.

My mind flies to the future: which auditions to go to, what dates to file my vacation leaves, which plays and concerts to watch or let pass.

Is this who my self is? The sum of my past pains and future aspirations? Is my self husband? father? son? brother? financial services advisor? colleague? writer? friend? artist? What do these labels mean to me? Does my name hold the clue to my identity?

My hands open up to heaven and I ponder the Filipino word for fate: kapalaran, which has palad for its root word. Is my destiny etched on the lines of my palm? Do these crisscrossing lines define who I am?

I cannot wait for an answer to arrive. I simply continue to breathe in meditation, paying attention to my breath, my aching back, my itching ear. I see that all I am is body parts and fluids, made up of organs and cells, that are made up of molecules and atoms. An atom is the building block of matter, which is, physicists have discovered, to be nothing but a form of energy.

So that is all that I am to science. A manifestation of energy in the here and now. A physical body that has breath and mind and passions and instincts. I am a wonder, but not unlike all the other common wonders of nature: plants, animals, objects, human beings. I am at once both miraculous and ordinary. What is self, then, when there really is no self for the self to define?

I have my breath, my pen, my mind, sheets of paper. I write about how I take pleasure in cuddling my daughter and hearing her laugh as I tickle the nape of her neck. How we watch Annie the Musical on DVD for the nth time and sing along to "Tomorrow" together. I lie next to my wife and we talk about her hopes, worries, dreams, fears. Without my wife and daughter, my self has no sense of being. I long to be home every time I'm at the office. I long to be with them, each day becomes a happy reunion whenever I arrive home. They are whom I hold dearest in my life.

My self is both large and small. In the end, my self belongs not to me at all.

Waking up along EDSA

Walking that short strip of EDSA--
that strip between the corner of East Avenue and the MRT station,
that I used to walk daily for years--
I suddenly noticed it.

The way the sunlight fell from the east at an 8AM height,
the smell of people's colognes mixed with hurried sweat;
as I guzzle on bottled soy milk peddled by a taho vendor.

The streetsweeper MMDA did a great job getting litter off the street.

Suddenly I'm hungry for the deep-fried crablets and tortang talong and tokwa,
the softdrinks in iced chests,
the eyes of strangers on their way to work or death.

I long to understand the graffitti on the wall.
Last night's rain washed away the stench of urine but not the acidic discoloration.

The barker with lop-sided eyes sneezed.
I was grateful to catch that moment: I may never see that again.

Living now in Malolos, had to be miles away, an hour a half bus ride away,
to notice what I once took for granted.

BB rules

Veck spoiled me big time this weekend. First we saw god of carnage and had a great time at the theater.

Then she bought me a new BB after I cracked my old Nokia. So I'm self-imposing these rules on my BB use:

a) No going on social apps when with Veck or Dana
b) No going on social apps when with a friend who wanted to meet me to talk
c) Blog / post only when alone and during spare time

That's it. Those are my rules. My BB has to have its proper place in my life. It is a tool. It has its use. I can't make it central to my life.

July 15 is National Carnage Day

We saw Yasmin Reza's God of Carnage today at the Carlos P. Romulo Auditorium. I was with Veck, and our friends JM and Patty, Jeff and Geli, Louise, Liz and Dannie. For some of them, this was the first time they get to see Lea Salonga to perform live in the theater!

Of course, AFLS (Manila chapter) was in attendance, too. It was fun to see again Jacq, Betsy, Jeff, Edcel, Jojo, Anna, Noel and Tin.

We saw four musical theater superstars on the stage tackling a straight play: Lea Salonga, Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo, Adrian Pang and Art Acuna.

We had a lot of fun watching the show. I know all of you theatergoers out there wouldn't want to miss this production!

Afterwards, we took pictures with Lea. Lea said she wasn't accustomed to seeing me with a beard. I said I was trying to look older. She said, "Good luck with that!" Haha! Well, Lea doesn't look like she's in her mid-twenties!

Afterwards, Dannie suggested we eat at Marciano's, and we did. Veck and I had Autumn in New York salad, which had calamares and shrimp. I loved it. We also had eggplant parmigiana, and the waiter educated me that you don't pronounce the 'a' sound in parmigiana. We also shared the pizza.

What a weekend that was. We just got a BB for me, plus the play, plus eating out. Yikes! I'd have to take some OT work so that we don't dip into our savings because of these extravagant spending! But anything for theater!

Oh, I hope I can step onstage again!

Congrats to the cast of God of Carnage! And to Tin for a sold-out show! Woof! Woof!

Grace calls

To make ends meet as an artist and family man, I took on a job at a call center. I have been working for this company for about seven months now, and I am actually enjoying it. I am thankful for it because God uses this job as a channel of His provisions for us.

Anyway, I do want to talk about my call center job a bit. I was thinking how I can integrate my core values of truth and integrity on the stage and in life into corporate job of dealing with customers over the phone.

Now customers would not always be nice or jovial or at least courteous. Some would be righteously or wrongfully frustrated, rude, uneducated... They complain, grumble, vent out, or worse, mumble. (I have bias against lazy speakers.)

Usually, when I get a less than pleasant customer, I just switch off. I build a wall. I distance myself. I become passive-agressive. I get filled with thoughts like: "Oh, God. I'm not your psychiatrist. Nor your parent. It's not my fault you got low EQ."

Anyhow, this attitude of mine is not going well with my scores at work. I know I can do better and engage the customers in a friendlier manner, but if I do that to every person I talk to I'd be depleted! My energy reserves would dry up.

So, I was thinking a lot about this, and how I'm so passionate for theater even though I haven't always been treated right there. And how, when this call center company is treating me right, I'm not giving them 100% of what I give to the theater.

I was looking for a sense of integration. Then it hit me: Grace. Grace. I don't deserve it, but I received it. Grace. If I can dispense grace to every caller, treat them not as I think they deserve, but as grace would treat them, then I'll be better off.

And since God is the Author of grace, if I connect with Him, branch to the Vine, then I'll never be depleted of grace reserves.
I think I ought to appropriate this grace through prayer. "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever" (Psalm 23).

Admitting my fears

I woke up from a bad dream earlier this afternoon. In it, I lived alone in a cramped flat, not at all the spacious home I share with my wife and daughter. The room is badly lit, as if shoved into a dark corner of a tenement building where little sunlight can seep through. There were cabinets set up everywhere, making the whole place a labyrinth even in its crampedness.

I was in one of the inner rooms when a stranger with dyed red hair appeared. I felt insecure, invaded, threatened. I knew this person had malicious intent: to steal, maybe? To murder?

I tried my best to hide a wall but when I looked, there we were, staring at each other through either side of a small glass paned window. His left eye was completely white and blind.

He stood there, motionless, as if trying to watch how I'd react. His defiant stillness was almost mocking my apparent lack of courage. He slowly turned to walk away. That's when I ran. I wanted to catch him. But he was out before I could get to him in the labyrinthine maze of the small room.

Then I woke up.

The dream led me to thinking about my worst fears. What are the things I am most afraid of? Would it be the safety of my household? That someone in the middle of the night would break in and harm my family while I was away at work? I keep telling Veck to keep the porch light on through the night but she's so stubborn. Is it the fear that Dana would go through the same horrors I did when I was a teenager?

Then I realized what my real fears were. I am afraid Veck and I would have a quarrel so bad she would pack up and leave. That I'll never see Dana again. I am afraid Veck would find another man. And worse, be happier with the other person.

I'm afraid to live alone, a once-married man, and suddenly wrenched out of my most precious relationships into a lonely bachelorhood. I guess, in this way, I am afraid to be my Dad. My Mom left us when we were young. I was afraid history would repeat. I guess pain seared in the hearts and minds of the very young do last a lifetime.

They say it's good to face your fears. To embrace them. To accept them as part of who you are.

A close friend of mine will go under the knife on 29 July this year. They found a cyst in her ovary and they have to take it out. She's had this same operation before. But that doesn't make things easier for her. She said she's afraid to be put to sleep during the surgery. I asked why. She said she's afraid she won't wake up.

My friend is a single mom. Her son is two years old. Suddenly I'm glad I don't have to be onstage on 29 July, trying to pretend to be happy when in the back of my mind I'm thinking about the operation.

Buddhism teaches we're all impermanent. Christianity teaches that Heaven and earth will pass away, but not God's Word that says we were created for eternity. In between impermanence and eternity we all live our lives through the sorrows and suffering and senselessness of our fears, imagined or real. Arthur Koestler said, "Courage is never to let your actions be influenced by your fears."

Oh, rejection!

Well, here's a small heartbreak.

I'm not doing Tj Domingo again after all. Jmee Katanyag of the Philippine Educational Theater Association (PETA), sent me an sms message earlier today telling me they chose a different actor to do the role. Oh, boy. And of all things I was thinking of my friends who already reserved tickets. How disappointed they would get. I didn't even think of my own disappointment.

But I guess, that's that. About a week ago I received an sms from Aaron Deniega, our SM, regarding rehearsal schedules. Just like that, I was back in the loop again. Norbs Portales III even texted me, "Welcome back."

I was out to buy Tj a new bag and some new shirts, as what I used in last year's run are old. I applied for leaves from work. I did some promoting and got friends to watch it. I read through the script again and tried to recall the lines and some of the steps. And then boom! They're not getting me.

Any theater company has the right to choose which set of actors they want to be in their show. But this just bums, can I say? Yeah, this bums. What a letdown. They chose a different actor to do the six shows (I was set to do only three) and what does that make me think? PETA doesn't want my services.

It would've been more decent if I received a call, but no, an sms should suffice. Makes me think twice about auditioning for future productions, much less supporting their shows. This just bums.

I wonder if I just got a slice of how Jesus feels when we choose other loves before Him.

My friends were, naturally, indignant. (Thank you! I love you! Real friends are hard to find and I got a chestful!) They sent comforting messages. And there'll be other plays. Theater lives on. Theater breathes. And I'll continue to breathe.

Sally Field is quoted to having said, "It took me a long time not to judge myself through someone else's eyes." And there is wisdom there for every true actor and artist. Too often we judge ourselves by others' accolades/reviews/remarks. This injury, I think, warrants another round of TAW.

What I am thankful of is that I was able to text back: "Parang ayaw ko na magPETA." This is light years ahead of me. I can't believe I actually said that on my own behalf, but I did. And I'm glad. That was a gut feel reaction and I took the courage to express it. It wasn't meant to manipulate or change any present circumstance. It was to free what I truly felt inside.

When you feel people passed you over

Genesis 47.23-26
Then Joseph said to the people, "Look, today I have bought you and your land for Pharaoh. I will provide you with seed so you can plant the fields.24 Then when you harvest it, one-fifth of your crop will belong to Pharaoh. You may keep the remaining four-fifths as seed for your fields and as food for you, your households, and your little ones."

"You have saved our lives!" they exclaimed. "May it please you, my lord, to let us be Pharaoh's servants." Joseph then issued a decree still in effect in the land of Egypt, that Pharaoh should receive one-fifth of all the crops grown on his land. Only the land belonging to the priests was not given to Pharaoh.

Exodus 1.8-11
Eventually, a new king came to power in Egypt who knew nothing about Joseph or what he had done. He said to his people, "Look, the people of Israel now outnumber us and are stronger than we are.10 We must make a plan to keep them from growing even more. If we don't, and if war breaks out, they will join our enemies and fight against us. Then they will escape from the country."

So the Egyptians made the Israelites their slaves. They appointed brutal slave drivers over them, hoping to wear them down with crushing labor. They forced them to build the cities of Pithom and Rameses as supply centers for the king.
(New Living Translation)

If you find yourself in a situation where people whom you have greatly helped in the past has forgotten your contributions, you feel neglected, taken for granted, take comfort. It has happened before. To the best of us.

Just go to your easel, your journal, your guitar or drums, and create, create, create! Out of the pain of neglect, create. Through your art, remember, help others remember, and then let go. It is a lesson in detachment. You have this moment. The past is past. Today is what matters, and from this moment, you have your breath, and you can create.

Your unique story

And just like that, I finished (re-)reading Genesis today. This time around, however, what hooked me were the lives of Jacob and his son, Joseph. This blog entry is not about their lives, though. This entry is more about your unique story.

I was talking about this with Jeff at length one day. I asked him if someone has shared the Gospel with him. He replied, "Yes." I asked him to tell me what the Gospel is as he believed it to be. He said one time when he was in Baguio with a friend, a young man giving out fliers came to them and said that God created only men and women, not third sex. I thought, "That's not the Gospel." So I told Jeff, "Can I tell you what the Gospel is?" He nodded.

Somehow I used the story of Adam and Eve as the springboard of the Gospel story. I told Jeff about God's love. About Creation. About His relationship with Adam and Eve. About their fall, and the fall of mankind. About God's promise to Eve for a son who will crush the head of the serpent.

I went on to tell about Abraham and God's promise to him and his wife that He will give them a son, and how Abraham believed God completely. God fulfilled His promise when Abraham was 100, and Sarah gave birth to Isaac when she was 90.

I told Jeff about Isaac, and Jacob, who wrestled with God and whose name was changed to Israel. I went on to tell about the people of Israel. I wanted to tell him, too, about the stories of Joseph, and the Hebrews' slavery in Egypt, but I got too excited. I told Jeff about Moses seeing God's back and hearing Him say His name. I told Jeff about Gideon, the coward turned victorious warrior. I told him story after story until I came to Jesus.

I told Jeff about Jesus' perfect life, His relationship with the Father, some of the miracles He performed. I told him about Jesus fulfilling all the prophesies pertaining to the coming Messiah. I told him about Jesus' death, and what it meant for our justification. I told him about Jesus' resurrection, and what it meant for our sanctification.

I told him about Peter walking on water. Saul the murderer becoming blind, and then seeing again with the eyes of his heart. I told him how Saul became Paul, the missionary. I told him about David who wrote song after song after song for God. I told him about Hannah, who prayed to have a son, and God granted her request. Samuel was one of the greatest prophets of Israel. I wanted to go on and on about Elijah. And Ezekiel. And Jeremiah.

It was then that I realized something. I told Jeff, the only things common to all these people and true Christians is that God loves them, and that they came to a point in their life that they surrendered to God's magnanimous love, and placed their full faith in Jesus, the way Abraham placed his faith in God. I told him about Jesus knocking on the door of our hearts and wanting to be our closest friend (Revelation 3:20).

I told him about the many metaphors of our relationship with God: Potter and clay, Shepherd and lamb, Father and child, Husband and bride.

But then everyone's story with God is always a unique story. It never repeats. No one else walked on water. That was just between God and Peter, something special for them. No one else heard God whisper after the thunderstorms and earthquakes and fires. That was just between Elijah and God. God never repeats. There are common underlying themes, but the plots, He creates a new, unique and special relationship with each one.

I went on to tell Jeff about my special, unique story with God. How God saved Veck, Dana and myself from Ondoy. And that's just one story. I told him about my special song for God: "Blessed be Your Name." I told him, God has a special plot for his life, too, just something between himself and God, if only Jeff would allow himself to totally abandon himself to the love of God expressed in Jesus Christ.

Each one of us has a unique story. An intimacy shared only between you and the Creator of the universe.

William 2012!

Ron Capinding's William is back on stage! Gawad Buhay winner for Outstanding Play, Outstanding Ensemble Performance, and Outstanding Original Script, William is the story of familiarizes young people with the beauty of Shakespeare’s works and re-invents the Bard using rap rhythm and hip-hop beats.

Directed by Maribel Legarda, William touches on themes of adolescence, parents’ unconditional love and friendship and promotes respect for teachers and classmates, and advocates love for reading and appreciating literature—Shakespeare or not.

That, and I'm part of the cast. So please watch! Limited one-weekend-rerun only!

Watch William on these dates and times. Schedules in bold are my performance dates.

July 27, Friday, 10AM.
July 27, Friday, 3PM
July 28, Saturday, 10AM
July 28, Saturday, 3PM
July 29, Sunday, 10AM
July 29, Sunday, 3PM

See you at the Theater! For ticket information, visit PETA online.

Before this eats me up

I am inspired very much by what Gibbs Cadiz wrote about the late Mario O'Hara. Gibbs showed Mario as having zero ego, which is, as evidenced by his prolific life, the key to prodigious creating.

More and more I see how egocentric actors bring ruin to any performance. Anytime one's looks/talent/career becomes more important to him than telling the story of the play and the character as truthfully as you can, then you're lost. It's a comon trap, but a vicious one.

I remember Dr Anton Juan holding up two ideals in the Theatre: Simplicity and Clarity. Both ward off egotism. Both lead to Truth and Art. I struggled against this during my rebellious student years, but now these are the very standards I pit myself against each time I am given the opportunity (privilege!) to stand on the stage.

I once worked with an actor with a huge ego. If I were to post a litany of the many grievances "actor" has caused me I'd be writing a book. So let me just choose the ones that fellow actors would understand. I remember one time we were rehearsing. This "actor" kept stepping in and out of the rehearsal hall whilst we were trying to run the traffic of a scene. When I pointed it out, "actor" said: "Shut up!" Way to go for courtesy. Whatever was "actor" doing stepping out? Oh, I know, flirting with another actor s/he has hots for.

I refer to *it as "actor" because I don't want to shame that wonderful profession with *its misbehavior. You try your best to get in an audition. When you get in, you do your best to deserve the role given you. This "actor" does not deserve to be called the same title we attribute to the likes of Ian McKellen, Judi Dench, Lea Salonga, Gary Oldman, Mario O'Hara.

At another time, during a show, this "actor" began saying I was changing the blocking and hurting *it on the stage. I know I wasn't doing anything unusual, except that I know how careful "actor" is with how *it looks on the stage. *It doesn't want to look less of a celebrity on stage. In short, "actor" is more concerned about ego than the story of the play.

"Actor" began throwing a nasty tantrum backstage, and spreading lies about me to the other actors, thus creating negative energy backstage. At another scene, "actor" pushed me back on my tummy... something *it wasn't supposed to do. I was caught off guard as this wasn't rehearsed that I almost doubled over and fell off the edge of the stage.

Then "actor" changed *its blocking so that at one crucial moment, my fist would land on *its head instead of safely away just as we rehearsed.

I was so pissed off. In the meantime, I kept to myself, quietly, as all around me, all of "actor" and *its gang of cool upstart wannabes talked behind my back and conspired against me. Instructed by Spirit not to defend myself, I kept quiet and prayed constantly.

During intermission, the stage manager had to call for a company call. He was hearing all sorts of negative talk and accusations against my person over the mics that were pasted to our heads. These talk was generated by none other by "actor" *itself. The stage manager wanted to know what was going on. So the "actor" laid it on, really thick, all the reasons why I am evil and unprofessional. In the meantime, Spirit within me said, "Don't defend yourself. Be quiet." So I said nothing. I knew I was just victim for the day, the battery for *its self-serving schemes.

Finally, the sound designer and one of my closest friends approached me secretly and said, "You are the bigger man. You are the better person. You know what to do."

I hate it when my friends are right, but I love them for their courage to come to me and be forthright with it. Loyal friends are gems.

I approached "actor" and told *it the last thing I wanted to say. I said, "Sorry." I hugged "actor." And "actor" did the strangest thing. "Actor" hugged me back and began brushing *its thigh up and down my crotch, as if to feel my size. Oh, God! I knew it. This guy wasn't sincere all along. This person isn't even human.

I quickly disengaged myself and thought, "Well, that's the end of the matter, I hope. I hate this person and I hate his gang of stupid posses."

Then the production manager called us both on a meeting after the show. "Not again," I told myself. The production manager wanted to hear the story for herself. And on and on again the "actor" droned *its sorry self-pitying story of how I abusive I was onstage. I was seething inside. Again, Spirit whispered, "I got your back. Don't say anything in your defense.

The production manager then turned to me for my side of the story. I didn't say anything. Then she said the most surprising thing ever. She turned to actor and said, "What you did was wrong. You were extremely unprofessional. How dare you spread all sorts of rumours over the mic about Rico? How dare you raise up negative energy? If you have a problem, you approach the right channel. You talk to the person, and not to other people who are neither part of the problem nor the solution."

I was dumbfounded. And extremely grateful. I knew the meaning of grace. The production manager turned to me and said kindly, "If you encounter any problems, come to me."

Wow. And yeah, I'm writing it now because this story keeps repeating in my head and maybe I just need to let it out. Maybe I need to let someone out there, my invisible readers, the true story. I told my wife about this and she was so angry. I love that. I told another friend. That was good, too. So now, I'm telling you.

I shouldn't care about ego, and should be wary about "actors" who care for nothing else but their own. There are actors like Mario O'Hara and other countless giants who selflessly served in the Theater. That's the kind of Actor I want to be like.

One time, after a show, this "actor" complained mercilessly to an usher about a student in the audience who, *it claimed, was not paying attention to *its monologue. "Actor" had this student called to the stage door and said stuff like, "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to stand there and say a line? And you have the gall na bastusin ako?!"

That student got so traumatized. She told her teacher that she never wanted to see Theatre shows ever again. The teacher asked why. When she found out what happened to her student, the teacher reported to the principal. The principal was so angry she pulled out 4500 students who were scheduled to watch succeeding shows.

Ego is the enemy of the Theatre.

Dana's favorite game series: Bili Books!

Dana plays a lot of pretend games. The ones she likes to repeat a lot are scenes from the musical Annie. She would march around mimicking "It's a hard knock life... for us... It's a hard knock life... for us... No one cares for you, a snitch... When you're in an orphanage..."

That would be my signal to do a Carol Burnett and say, "You're hiding something from Miss Hannigan behind your back!"

The cutest scene is when she tries to sing Molly's part in "You're never fully dressed without a smile." I guess she's at that age when they want to mimic almost anything they find interesting.

So, this is another blog entry about a game Dana invented. She calls it "Bili Books." She gathers all her books together in a small bag that has the top open. She fills the pockets on the sides with all sorts of pencils and pens. Then she declares, "Bili Books!"

I am then supposed to come over, choose a book I want to read, and point it out to her. It doesn't matter which book because she almost always inadvertently chooses the book she'll lend out anyway. Haha! So even if I point at say her Counting 1-2-3 book, she'll say, "Oh, you want to read 'Bath Time'?"

Then you'll have to mime handing her some coins. She'll gladly accept them as if that's the whole reason she set up her bookstore in the first place. She picks up your book 'choice,' then proceeds to stamp it. She'll get a pen, one after the other, and point it at the book, sounding each one with a loud "Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!"

After she goes through all her pens, she happily hands over to you your book which you should commence to read in front of her. But before you can finish reading it, she goes, "Time's up!" You'll have to hand the book bag to her. She stashes it back in her bag and then announces, "Bili Books!" For another round of this game.

We repeat the whole thing several times, and I tell you, I don't get tired of it.

Yesterday afternoon, I needed to sleep, and Dana just set up her shop. Veck said, "Let Daddy sleep! He has work tonight." But Dana wouldn't have any of that. She wanted to play with her Daddy and play she would. Veck threatened to bring out the dreaded hanger for spanking. Dana rushed to her mommy and said, "Friends... Friends tayo... no spanking, please."

Oh, it's too cute! So Dana says, "Sad si Dana. Angry si Mommy. Friends lang."

Veck says, "Okay, but you let Daddy sleep. And if you sleep, too, Mommy won't be angry anymore."

"Opo! Dana is happy!" I heard my daughter say. I think they exchanged hugs at that point but I wasn't sure. I drifted off to sleep. I woke up to my phone's alarm and saw Dana sleeping soundly beside me, using the crook of my arm for her pillow.

What to do when you've cough

I am sick and I am beginning to worry about it. This is a true signal that I should take better care of myself. I've skipped some pill dosages, been drinking two glasses of soda every day during lunch, joining the gang for smoking. Sigh. And a show is coming and I don't want to get any sicker.

So, I intend to take better care of myself. In an hour I will go to the drugstore and buy cough medicine. There's one brand called Colvan that always works for me, although I don't like its side effects. It makes my head drowsy and my throat tight. But better that than let this cough linger.

I will, however, tell you some great home remedies that work wonders.

Water. Drink lots of it. Ideally we all drink a liter a day. Drink more when suffering from colds and coughs.

Yakult. I don't know why it works, but it does. I think all the good bacteria in it kills off the virus. Try it.

Fruit. Any excuse to pig out on apples, pineapples, grapes, oranges, mangoes, or whatever your favorites are is good enough! Eat fruit even when you're not sick!

Unsweetened fruit juice. The sugar in most canned or bottled fruit juice will irritate your throat more, so to get your dose of vitamin C, choose unsweetened.

Rest. Get lots of it! Don't party too much during an illness. Avoid things like alcohol and smoke. For the time being.

Hot broth. The steam from hot broth seem to loosen tough sticky phlegm. While you're at it, soak in a steam bathtub or take a leisurely hot shower. Inhale that steam. It's good for you.

Prayer. Some sort of quiet time and meditation helps heal the body and the soul.

Now let me go take a dose of my own advice. I'll write soon when I get well.

Second half of 2012 Resolutions

Okay. I'm gonna be tough on myself. Here goes:

1. Quit smoking.

2. Drink more water, less soda.

3. Drink hot tea during lunch.

4. Write my morning pages; go on a planned artist date each week.

5. Read some Bible passages each day.

6. Truth, honesty, simplicity. No place for ego.

7. Watch more theatre.

8. Audition more.

9. Be honest to God in prayer, in everything.

10. Work-out every other day. Be it body weights or yoga.

11. Do breath and voice work daily, which means the exercises in Patsy Rodenburg's The Actor Speaks.

12. Share the gospel to at least one friend this year, to whom I've never shared it before.

13. Pray for that person's salvation and wait upon God for the perfect opportunity to share the gospel, and just go for it!

14. To listen intently to Veck and Dana, to be present with them.

15. To forgive myself if I miss anything in this list.

What a weekend!

Just a quick note today.

I have a huge weekend ahead of me. First, I have to prepare for tomorrow's Large Group Hosting. It's "Moving Up" Day, so no lesson, just a lot of songs and fun. Not quite easy if you think about, owing to the fact that I don't get much time to rehearse because of j-o-b. Not that I'm complaining. My Saturday morning will be spent trying to learn the dance steps, and hopefully not in vain.

Saturday afternoon today, I will go to Palm Tower B because my friend and now agent, Dene Gomez, is sending me to a VTR, the second one I'm going to this year. I know. If I wanted more acting assignments I should put myself more out there. Hopefully I nail this one and this relationship with Dene's List Talent Agency works. It will be the first time I am handled by an agent. I'm no longer freelance. Wow.

I've work still tonight. I have to tally a team game we're holding at work. My manager will be on a much-deserved vacation leave and so it's up to me to tally the scores and send them out. I know they'll all be eager to find out who sunk who. It's a Battleship game with a twist. Have to be very thorough with this so I won't mess it up.

Sunday morning, right after shift, which is July 01 already, I just realized! A new month! Just like that. Sunday morning will be spent at church, worshiping, recuperating, I must say--finding rest in my Shepherd.

Sunday afternoon is show time! We ought to be prepared. I'm not sure if we can come in costumes, but I hope our songs for the kids would be fun enough and get them to keep coming back to Kids' Church. This new batch of Nursery level Sunday schoolers will experience Large Group for the first time and we want to make a great impression and whet their appetites for the Bible.

Sunday evening, finally! It's not rest, I'm sorry. I still have work. But I'll be going to the office to party!  JAMawockeez, that's our office's team, will be holding a bash. After tonight we'll be moved to separate teams and we're celebrating six months of joys, pains, and growing together in this crazy company I want to nickname The Firm.

It's been wonderful working with you all, Jamawockeez! Thanks for the support. From the bottom of my heart! Not just on carpeted areas, but moreso when I'm on stage. Your suppost is wonderfully felt and cherished! Cheers!

Psalm 23 taught me how to pray

If there's another thing I learned from David's 23rd Psalm, it's how to pray in the Name of Jesus. I mean, how to really pray.

Think about it. Ever since Sunday School when I was a tee weeny bit of a young boy, we were taught to end all our prayers with, "In Jesus' Name, Amen!"

We were also taught strange superstitions like, if there's a ghost, yell out loud: "In Jesus' Name!" and that was supposed to scare the devil away. (Who's to say that a quiet prayer for divine protection isn't enough for our Dad to rush to His kids' side?)

Now knowing that what basically David did was sing or pray God's names when he wrote Psalm 23 gives me a clue as to how I should pray in Jesus' name.

YHWH-Rapha, I AM Healer, is translated to "He restores my soul." YHWH-Tsidkenu, I AM your Righteousness, is translated to "He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake."

The point is, when I know more and more about Jesus, when I get to be very intimate with Him and know Him personally, then I see facets of His personality as revealed in the Bible and in our daily personal encounters. Then I can begin praying in accordance to Jesus' character. That is, I realize, what it really means to pray in Jesus' name.

Jesus is our Shepherd, the True Vine, the Messiah, the Prince of Peace. In times of confusion, I can pray to hear His voice so I can follow Him. In times of loss and disconnection, I can pray to the True Vine and renew my relationship with God my Father. When I've fallen, I can call on Jesus my Messiah. And when I'm rattled, afraid, shaken, I have Jesus, the Prince of Peace.

So, thanks, David. You taught me how to pray in the name of the Son of David. The One who said, "Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends."

Wishes

Someone once told me that one powerful way to make your wishes come true is to write them down.

So, in no particular order, here goes:

1. I want a new toilet seat cover.
2. I want to have Dana's bike fixed.
3. Get bicep muscles.
4. Get cut abs.
5. Write a novel and get it published.
6. Act in a play before this year ends.
7. Tour the Holy Land with my family.
8. Start and grow a savings account.
9. Get a new Blackberry phone.
10. Get a new iPod.
11. Homeschool Dana, and make sure she gets in a good university (UP, where else?).
12. Learn to drive.
13. Watch shows on Broadway.
14. Get to originate a role again.
15. Bring Veck and Dana to Disneyland.

The hidden code in Psalm 23

When I was in fourth grade, my grandmother gave me a Good News Bible. The version is, although bulky, easy to read. I carried it around my school backpack.

Whenever I got bored in history classes, I would hide the Bible between the covers of our textbook and read it. More than once I got caught. The teacher was probably expecting a comic book. Archie or X-Men. Surprise! I was reading Deuteronomy and the history of the people of Israel.

When I got to the Psalms I fell in love with Hebrew poetry. I mean, I absolutely went wild with it. I thought, this is how I am supposed to pray.

The first psalm I memorized was Psalm 23. I would recite, "Yea though I woke through the valley of the shadow of death..." whenever the lights are turned out in my room and I begin to fear bogeymen and ghosts and aswangs that threaten to appear. I guess it was that silly childhood superstition that forced me to memorize a prayer. It begins with "The Lord is my shepherd" and goes all the way to "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Who wouldn't find comfort in that poem? After saying the words, I'd drift to sleep.

As I got older, the patina of familiarity took over my love of the Psalm. It felt old to me, over-rated, even childish. I get knocked over with problems, bills to pay, unemployment, egotistic actors ganging up on me backstage, whatever... I try to recite Psalm 23 but it didn't work its magic on me anymore. It felt staid, hackneyed, impotent. I didn't believe in the words anymore.

Our family goes to Christ's Commission Fellowship to worship on Sundays. The message last Sunday was about Psalm 23 and the hidden names of God in it. My eyes and heart were opened. I fell in love again this time not with the psalm but with the Shepherd.

Listen to the message in full at http://bit.ly/MGwCZ9.

"The LORD" is the English translation for God's proper personal name YHWH, which is "I AM WHO I AM." The I AM is our Shepherd.

Here is the 23rd Psalm.

23 ¹The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

² He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
³ He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
⁴ Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
⁵ Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
⁶ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

If we go through each statement, we find how David, the psalm's author, put in God's names in the psalm, highlighting a certain aspect or attribute of His character.

"I shall not want."
YHWH-Jireh
which means "The LORD will provide."
also at Genesis 22:14

"still waters"
YHWH-Shalom
which means "The LORD our peace"
also at Judges 6:24

"restores my soul"
YHWH-Rapha
which means "The LORD who heals"
also at Exodus 15:26

"paths of righteousness"
YHWH-Tsidkenu
which means "The LORD our righteousness"
also at Jeremiah 33:16

"I fear no evil for you are with me"
YHWH-Shammah
which means "The LORD is there"
also at Ezekiel 48:35

"in the presence of my enemies"
YHWH-Nissi
which means "The LORD our banner"
also at Exodus 17:15

"anoint my head with oil"
YHWH-M'Kaddesh
which means "The LORD who sanctifies"
also at Leviticus 20:8

And then the most wonderful thing. In the New Testament, Jesus Christ is called:

The Good Shepherd in John 10:11
The Great Shepherd Hebrews 13:20
The Chief Shepherd 1 Peter 5:4

Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, is our Shepherd. The last verse which says "Goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life..." carries the idea of not just following, but pursuing, and overcoming. Imagine goodness and mercy racing after you and catching after you and enveloping you all the days of your life just because Jesus is your Shepherd.

In John 10, Jesus said about himself, "The sheep recognize his voice and come to him. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. After he has gathered his own flock, he walks ahead of them, and they follow him because they know his voice.

"I am the good shepherd; I know my own sheep, and they know me, just as my Father knows me and I know the Father. So I sacrifice my life for the sheep.

"I have other sheep, too, that are not in this sheepfold. I must bring them also. They will listen to my voice, and there will be one flock with one shepherd."

That's an invitation for us all to be part of His flock. Imagine the Lion of Judah as your Shepherd. You certainly have nothing to fear!

Bullying

In 2011 I played a young teenager in the play "William" by Ron Capinding named Tj Domingo. Tj is a bully and has a troubled domestic life.

Personally, I am against all forms of bullying. It damages both the bullied and the bully. In cases of bullying, both parties are victims. Parents and teachers should take responsibility in creating a safer school environment for children and teenagers.

Just today I came across the following incident of bullying in a school bus. This was reported by ABC News.

Students apoligize to bullied bus monitor
School bus monitor abused by students says she won't quit her job

I cannot believe that Karen Klein endured this taunting for 20 years and nothing so far has been done to stop it. The parents should take full responsibility for their children's behavior. It should not stop with just the apology. What kind of home do these kids live in? Why do they misbehave?

In "William", it is revealed that the fictional character Tj Domingo is both physically and verbally abused by his father. This is why I raise these questions.

I am now a father of a three-year-old girl. My wife and I are committed to do everything in our power to keep our girl both from being bullied and bullying others. It begins at home.

If you are bullied, tell someone you trust. If you know someone being bullied, don't just stand there. Do something! Tell an adult. Speak out. Create awareness. There are lots of positive things you can do. Or do like I did: I went up onstage and showed what bullying is, what drives a young man to bully others, and, through the words of William Shakespeare, express a humble apology.

Dana's Games: Cocoon

I have been meaning to start a series called "Games Dana plays." So here's the first entry!"

I wanted to chronicle the games that Dana invented, detail the rules, and share the fun with all of you. Dana is very creative when it comes to coming up with games, and she has been playing these games with Mommy and Daddy since... oh, I don't know, even before she turned one. The rules vary as time goes by and I'll try to recall them as faithfully as possible.

Am I a proud Dad for having a creative daughter? You bet! (I have a suspicion that's how our Daddy Up There feels, too, when we play with our creativity energies and let our creative spirits free.)

Cocoon
For this game, you will need:
- a blanket
- some pillows (optional)

The game starts rather arbitrarily. Dana received a fluffy Hello Kitty™ blanket from her Ninang Jel for her first birthday. We saved and saved this blanket from use for the first six months, afraid that Dana might wet her bed and only ruin it. When Dana got a little bit older, we brought it out for her. She immediately loved it and called it "Hello Pretty."

This is one of Dana's favorite games. We still play it a lot. Dana calls out: "Cocoon! Cocoon!" and wherever I am, I rush to her and we hide under the covers of her blanket. The rule is that all parts or our bodies are under the blanket and all its edges are safely tucked underneath body parts (wherever we can manage). We can even set up pillows to use as pillars to make the "cocoon" more like a tent.

It does get stuffy but under the cocoon Dana pretends to whisper secrets to me (she still can't talk yet, only in babbles). And I get to be close to my daughter! When she gets older, I know she won't want to play with her old man anymore (*sentimental).

Writing this now I can't help but think of prayer. It's been a while that I called to God for a one-on-one meeting, a solo time with God-Dad, a cocoon where I hide under the sheets and whisper my heart's secrets, pains and shame to Him.

"Cocoon! Cocoon!" God may call, waiting for me to rush to His side and be intimate with Him.

Just breathe!

Okay, this is it. Schedule bidding. It's make or break. It's the difference between the rest of the year being exciting or a drone. Let me explain something first.

To make ends meet, I took on a call centering job. I have been at it since November last year, and this has greatly limited my theater involvements. Naturally, I need to work hard, and I want to do good at my job, as well as get regularized (which I did last month, kudos to Rico). But my employer has many policies surrounding outside-of-work-activities.

So far, the only theater I did was the REP Fringe class last summer, which I enjoyed very much, thoroughly enjoyed, and learned a lot from. For the first time I am beginning to understand in a practical, visceral way what Patsy Rodenburg's exercises were as detailed in her book The Actor Speaks, and I work on the exercises every day on my own as if I'm a beginning actor.

It's always good to have a beginner's mind. A Zen mind.

Ego is knocking a lot at my door lately. Gawad Buhay 2012 nominations are out now and my name is not on the list. Puh! I thought I did rather well last year but I didn't get noticed.

But I do know that a lot of the actors whom I admire and respect for their work, professionalism, and sheer courage are not on this year's list as well. So what does that say?

How often have I told myself that I do theatre to serve, not for fame. (Although an acting recognition would be nice.) Still, I shouldn't stop trying to be a better actor. I should go on--breathing. Yes, simply breathing, just as Patsy Rodenburg teaches. I want to be a breathing actor.

But back to the subject at hand. I need to get a good work schedule so I can slip rehearsals in and shows when I can. Here's praying for special favor from God so I can go out on auditions again. I miss the theatre. I have illusions that the theatre misses me, too. Whether that's true or not doesn't matter. In the meantime, breathe, breathe, breathe!

Gary Oldman

One of my favorite actors is Gary Oldman. I think he has that rare gift of what I call "saktong timpla." Neither over or under. He just concocts his performance right. I wish I can see him onstage, but onscreen, I come to watch him with an intent to make mental notes of how it's supposed to be done, only to be carried away by the life of his character.

I want to be like Gary Oldman. Who cares if year after year the Oscar's snubbed him and he got his first nomination only this year? What do award-giving bodies know anyway?

Here's a toast to Gary Oldman! For your truthfulness, your professionalism, your craft. I want to grow into a master actor like you!

I'm excited to see the new Batman movie because Gary Oldman will be there.

Yesterday, for Veck's birthday, we went to the Cabanas Cinemas. We saw Kimmy Dora 2. That was a riot of fun! The funniest scenes are between Uge and Uge. Just frolicking fun!

Veck seemed to like the dozen white roses and the chichacorn I gave her for her birthday. I'm still trying to learn how to be more romantic, so if you've better ideas, feel free to post. On this note, I am reading Nelson T Dy's book The Honeymoon Never Ends. Load of advice in that book! And it's perfect for Filipino husbands because it's written by a Pinoy!

Finally, I do want to act onstage this year. It seems the only audition notices I see are for musicals. I want to do more straight plays, if I can. I miss acting. I'm learning a lot, and I think God is dealing with me on this aspect. Has theatre become my idol? Yikes. Theatre should be an altar of worship, not god itself.

In the meantime, while I'm waiting for my next acting assignment, I ought to be learning breath and being more organic. Whatever it takes to be as good as Gary Oldman!