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It was in 1940 in a tiny village called Paraiso when I met Carmen, a woman so famous because the saints bestowed upon her the ability to understand people. She knew what ailed people, she could give prescriptions to make married women happy, she could explain what made husbands miserable. And people envied her for that power. People from distant villages would flock around her house every day to seek answers to their questions. She would answer them all one by one, painlessly, carefully. And she did so with consistency that no one who went to her house with questions left it unanswered.

But there was one man who seemed very impossible to read. She labored hard, summoned the earth and the sky, lighted a thousand black candles, and recited all Oracions she knew existed, but to no avail. He continued to be undecipherable. This pained her a lot, because he wasn't just any man. He was the man she loved the most. And she wanted to make him happy.

She confided her sadness in me. What good is there to have the power to understand the world when you couldn't understand the one who really matters? If she could trade all her abilities for one power, and that was to understand him, she would. She wanted so much to at least be in the same plane with him, and not to spend all her nights wondering. But it seemed that was difficult.

She continued patiently with her work and prayed for the saints to help her with her problem. She wanted her understanding ability be taken. In exchange a chance to read him.

But the prayer was unanswered. The saints fell silent and didn't appear again until that sad day she died in 1960.

I ate a lot of shrimp last week so that by weekend, I had lots of red marks all over my body. I took some Benadryl (antihistamine) to fight off the allergy and it worked; however, it got me feeling dizzy and sleepy all the time.

I always try not to answer mails or do some important work stuff when I'm sleepy. The tendency is, I make a mess of things, which is quite difficult to undo when am better. Anyone knows of anything better than Benadryl?

I was traveling from Opon (that's where they have all those great foods that can cause allergy) when I saw a dog crossing the street. As we approached nearer, I realized there really wasn't any dog. It must just have been the darkness that tricked me. Was it an effect of all the food I ate? Or was it visual trickery? At that time, unsuperstitious though I brag I am, I felt it as an omen, as though something terrible could happen.

Which is silly, really. The last thought that came was, is my insurance good enough? Will I be insured for this?

I've no problem dying after a night of shrimp eating (all right, I confess. I ate those damned shrimps again). But I have a problem dying without insurances to cover me. I remember the insurance guy who calls me almost every day to ask me if I've eaten, all those stuff. Almost as if he really cares. But I know that's a sales front. Everybody does that. They call that customer service. Truth is, I've no faith for insurance people, no more than I mistrust lawyers and developers (pardon me...LOL).

I did not die last night and all that dog thing, the omen, the extraordinary darkness, they were prolly just products of thought. I am so very alive and I am the same she typing here for this blog. But I will take care of my insurance and talk to the guy to make sure everything is okay and i am covered for anything.

I suggest you do the same too.

Home turns one this year, and we're celebrating it with a bang!

If you have the free time and you're an art enthusiast or simply a curious onlooker wanting to know what Cebuano art looks like, you may want to come to the office at 9am-9pm from January 16-21, 2006 and witness our humble exhibit, featuring the works of the following Cebuano artists:

Nunelucio Alvarado - Philip Morris Awardee and National Artist nominee
Florencio Cinco - Philip Morris, Metrobank, and National Council for Cultural Arts awardee
Dr. Jet Florendo - Cebu-based sculptor
Vic Abellana - sculptor and butterfly art mosaic virtuoso

Our very own graphic artists, representing digital art, will showcase various works as well. Click here for more details.
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Our address:
7th Flr., Keppel Center, Cebu Business Park
Cebu City, Philippines

mail: info@poddcorp.com

Everyone is streetbound this January 16.

The whole of Cebu will be merrymaking. From morning til night, there'd be nonstop partying, dancing around, drinking (yum!). There's no perfect place to do that than the streets where there's no rule--right? This is the country's grandest celebration, after all.

So from the heart of a nonChristian but one who will certainly go because she doesn't want to miss it, Pit Senyor, everyone.

Hope to see you there!


::please don't reproduce image without the consent of the owner through this humble squid.

I wish I could have posted a better picture, one that I took myself, but I have none. So please bear with this one which I got after asking around:



The two bridges connect Cebu and Mactan Island. It's not a long way across if you are a good swimmer, but I would recommend that you take the bridge if you want to travel more quickly.

I was reminded of this when I saw a recent report from SFGate.com detailing suicide statistics that are committed from the Golden Gate. The first suicide occurred 10 weeks after the bridge was built in 1937. There have been 1218 reported incidents since then, making the bridge one of the most attractive suicide places in the US.

Cebu's mini bridges are not as equally grand and alluring, but they are not so alien with this. Every year, so many people end their miseries by jumping from the bridges, sometimes wearing weights on their necks to make sure the job is done successfully.

My friend V's cousin jumped from the bridge for reasons no one in the family could understand. It wasn't successful though. The kid, a college student, hit a fisherman's boat instead and was saved. He got bruises, was hospitalized, and was sent to his parents in the province. Friends and family who knew him dismissed it as his way to get the attention. Funny, when I heard the tale, I was wondering which would have been sadder if I were the one who did it. Committing suicide and actually dying, or doing it unsuccessfully and be accused of wanting attention.

The kid committed suicide again three weeks ago, using muriatic acid and this time got what he really wanted.

I showed V the Golden Gate link. Strange how it feels like to see something so grand and wonderful be used for something as--as tragic as death.

Forget the people who tell you death is freedom, because seriously, it isn't. What good is freedom if you cannot appreciate it, not even feel it? Will you be able to chant and sing praises for freedom while inside your coffin?