Haaahhh...this blog is already 1 year old!

This blog turned a year old last September and I didn’t even notice it!

It started year ago when my older brother gave me a Pentium 1 PC. That was the first time I had a PC. (Most of my computing experience was through document printing when I used to work as a copier operator.) So, when I found out that the word processors can check grammars and spelling, I began writing anything I can think of. I had this Doogie Howser M.D. fantasy.

Then the Pentium 1 PC died. My brother, who is a newly commissioned missionary bound for Thailand, gave me another PC, this time it’s a Pentium 2. So, I continued doodling on the computer. I began writing stupid poems and some compositions—it’s really just writing exercises. Of course the ancient Pentium 2 computer died a few weeks later also.

When my brother was already in Thailand, I began thinking of sending these poems and compositions to him and to some people I know, I even sent some of them to my sister’s best friend, an editor not because I want to have them published (my gulay!) but to ask for help on writing. I kept sending them, so maybe, my older brother had pity on me so he asked his eldest son Jared to create a blog for his miserable uncle. And that’s what how I got this blog.

Thinking back, one thing I got from this blog was freedom. I have so many questions about theology; in this blog, I was able to express them. These are things I dare not talk about openly with my pastors for fear of being called heretic. But as I ask these questions here, I realized that by simply expressing them I had this sense of release and relief. Also by reading other theology blogs (especially Adventures in Div. Dchool) (I gotta to meet wonderful Christians too!)I realized that people have similar questions and some even have proposals that borders on the bizaare. My theological angst has lost its steam, thanks to this blog. There will be more theological reflections and questions on this blog but they will not be as venomous as they were before. I tend to think that I am growing up, theologically speaking.

How about those angry, sarcastic, offensive things I wrote here. I can’t explain them and I will not defend them. Most are done in bad taste and some are just plain stupid. But like what I said before, these angst, if they are not expressed in this blog, could become pimples or boils or they may give me diarrhea and sore eyes.

Most of the time I wondered what would the people who read this blog think of its author and I will not be surprised if they think that its author is a schizophrenic or crazy or a Satanist or an egotist or something. All I can say is, I found a way to be free and it’s in here (and in my Filipino blog) so just have fun reading because who knows you maybe reading yourself (or not) here the same way I can read myself from other people’s blog.

It’s all about experiences and how people experience the same things but in different perspectives, that’s the fun with blogging.

It’s like omniscience…nahhh…that’s for another post.

Why “That Strange Feeling”?

My brother used the title of the poem I sent him as the title for the blog. He told me that I can change it but I did not change it because somehow it captured what this blog would be all about…hmmm… which is really all about nothing. Here’s that strange poem.

“That Strange Feeling”

This was how it felt,

And I’m telling you I didn’t add more or take less

For this was indescribable and only a full story

Is what would do justice and nothing less.

After I swallowed the bitter medicine, and drank my cup of water
I suddenly felt ticklish like a feather was in my underwear
And I felt altitude as if riding on a Ferris wheel
Going down, from up, exhilaration was what I felt

The tickling was unbelievable and my heart was murmuring
I dread seeing but I can’t help feeling
The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering,
And the bees in my heart were buzzing

Sitting, waiting, and my buttocks were itching,
Stand, walk, trot, and run to make time fleeting,
What’s more killing than my anxiety
To pull and see what was bothering me.

They were all there as far as I can tell,
All my siblings, mother, father, and the neighbors as well
They were all expecting for something to happen
It’s like their waiting for the launching of Apollo eleven

At last I can’t take it no more, I cried out, Father, it is a fore’
A torn newspaper and baby oil, my father, pulled it a sure’
And I’m cutting this story short, for I don’t want to be gross
‘Cause what I’m here tellin’ was the effect of my first dose

Of that medicine called combantrin!
And I’m sure you know what Im tellin’
Yuck!

Kyrgyzstan and some stories

Two weeks ago, Dadai my younger sister arrived from her six months mission work in Kyrgyzstan. I was happy because it has been almost a year since we had a talk and I am eager to hear stories about her experiences in the mission field. Dadai is the second of my siblings (the other is my older brother Joey in Thailand) to go to a non-Christian country to share the love of Christ. We were apprehensive because Kyrgyzstan is a Muslim and at the same time a former communist country; I never even heard that name before. But God has been faithful and He had kept Dadai and the other missionaries safe.

As Dadai was talking, I had this question in my head: If my father was alive what would he have said about my siblings going out of the country for missions? My father had big dreams for us. Before he became a Christian, my father was a heavy equipment operator and for sidelines, he does small time contracting jobs. He knew that there’s money in the construction business. So he had my older brother take up civil engineering in college and my other sister took up accountancy. I was to be the lawyer. He had it all figured out, the engineering stuff would go to my older brother, the accounting to my sister and the legal stuff would be my job. I tend to think that my siblings went along with this. But my father became a Christian. He became the pastor of our church and my siblings became involved in the ministry as youth leaders. Then my father died, I felt God deprived me of my father. Then after my father’s death, my siblings went to the seminary for their theological education and I didn’t understand it then. I felt, alone. I knew it was nobody’s fault, but I was fourteen then and my father was such a strong presence in my life that when he died I lost direction. Add to that my hormones kicking in and I’m also having philosophical, theological questions that looking back-- it was so confusing. I dropped out of school and became a drinker.

I was a backslider for sixteen years and I have done a lot of bad and crazy things. Back then, I felt I distance from my family but there’s this nagging, silent feeling that kept telling me that I have no other course but to come back to the church.

During one of my Christmas visit to my sister’s apartment at the seminary, as I was browsing through her books, a prayer list fell on the floor. I picked it up and written on it was: “Please, Lord, bring my brother George back to the fold.” Maybe those nagging, silent feelings that kept telling me that I have no other course but to return to the church were my mother and my sibling’s prayers. God has heard their prayers.

Now I’m back in the church as a deacon, a musician and a teacher. I got my life back and in a few months from now, I will be having my college degree. God is faithful to keep his promises.

As I was listening to my sister’s Kyrgyzstan’s stories, I feel that in some way the family business that my father dreamed of has finally been realized, and the business is booming.

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Barangay Blah, blah

The Baranggay Election is over and after the ballots were counted, our incumbent barangay captain, a distant relative of mine, lost the election. Personally, I don’t care who wins the election because for me politicians are all the same—they are all alike. But today I felt sadness, not for the losing candidate but for the supporters of the losing candidate. Majority of our barangay’s employee came from our place; this is not surprising because our captain grew up here. So when the news got around that he lost, I could feel my neighbor’s gloom because their jobs are co-terminus with the captain. They are now jobless.

Sad.I have been sneezing violently lately because Tamia our Labrador gave birth to eight (two died after a few days) cute, gorilla like puppies. Haaayyyy…no matter how cute these puppies are they will always be a torture for me. Anyway, my brother will be disposing (sell) them after a few months.

Election season

I was surprised when I saw that there are mobs on the streets. I heard someone calling my name, and when I looked, a total stranger shook my hand, told me his name and then gave me the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. I was a little dazed and when I looked at him, he wore uniforms carrying photos and banners....its election time! The most sickening seasson here in the Philippines.

People going around, shaking strangers hands and smiling their best and most artificial smile!

I am being mean again!

Ministerial Ethics 101 or why Pastors should not enter politics

Imitate me, then, just as I imitate Christ. 1Co 11:1 (The Good News Bible)

I was (not) surprised when a Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist Church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress admitted pn TV to having accepted money from Malcanang Palace (the snakepit of the Philippine government). The Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress even have the gull to say that now that what he has done was out, he now felt good! He even tried to justify the money! It’s a gift he said…(Pastor haven’t you heard of deontological ethics, or Kant’s Categorical imperative, or the ten Commandments, or what our mother told us when we were young: do not accept candies from strangers, or how about the Scout’s honor?)

This Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress was known for barricading cinemas when the Da Vinci code was shown in the Philippines. He “was” the powerful voice of God and of morality and of holiness in the Philippine government, yet he admitted to accepting gifts from Malacanang. Why I even saw him on TV condemning “Desperate Housewives” and how ladies dress (talk about T-backs!)

His admission was halfhearted and forced because a Catholic Priest turned Governor earlier beat him to the…err…media attention. The good Father turned governor of Pampanga admitted to receiving five hundred thousand pesos (around 10,000 USD) from Malacanang and the good governor exposed the money to the press. (I say Amen to that Father! I wonder if the good Father did not expose this to the media how long would have that …you know he is…benefited from these “gifts.” Hmmm…I wonder why this Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress did not exposed the “cash gifts” in the first place. I really, really wonder why? This reminds of the Adam when God caught Adam eating the “cash gifts” err... I mean the forbidden fruit… Adam’s excuse was, “t’was not me, it was the woman in the Malacanang...errr…t’was not me, t’was the woman that you gave to me.” ) See what the Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist Church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress had done is that by keeping silent about it, he is already part of it (Guess money is the best way way to make allies). And that’s what made it so, so, so horrible. My gulay! He has been in Congress for how long and how long had he been receiving money! And now he is in the bandwagon doing admitting receiving cash gifts. How traditional and unbiblical.

The Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptist church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress did not want not to be out-“moraled” by the “pagan-idolater Roman Catholics.” He held a press interview of his own. While I was listening, I was wondering where the thundering condemnation of corruption was! Where the thundering condemnation of the blasphemy of the Da Vinci Code was! This time, the thunderous voice and the machine gun Bible verses has become nothing more than a melodious fart of a little bad boy caught with his hands inside the money jar. Why, I wonder why he spoke with such a soft voice. (I say what’s the problem with you Pastor…err…congressman! See the problem! Can’t differentiate between the two now.) The tribes of these reverends cum politicians are increasing. Why, one even tried to run for the presidency of the Philippines complete with the prophecies of his sycophant prophets, when he lost—he was cheated. (Better than calling the prophecies and the prophets and the supposed sources of their prophecies, the infallible God according to them, and their hand laying a disgraceful farce. Where is that guy and where are his court cases now.)

It’s sad how “men of God” with all the bravado, and all the Bible verses, come charging into the corrupted halls of government to change it, to condemn it and in the end, end up being one of them—rotting and now rotten!

I have seen pastor like this and they make me mad! They spread their theology and ethics like viruses to unsuspecting churches. They like to hide behind 1John 1:9 (If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.) Talk about license. (During one of our devotions I told my students not to memorize this verse. I told them that in times of temptation instead of hearing the Holy Spirit saying “Don’t” they will instead hear Satan and his cohorts quoting this verse and saying. “Hey, remember what the preacher said about 1 John 1:9. Go ahead, null problemo there’s always 1 John 1:9 Go ahead!)

(When Jesus saw the condemned woman about to be stoned, he wrote on the sand: “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” What would have Jesus written on the sand if this pastor cum congressman (and his tribes) were hauled out of congress for accepting bribes and was about to be stoned… (I’m using my imagination here) “Shoot him! He’s had classes on theology, church ethics, ministerial etchics, business ethics, missiology, New Testament Studies, Old Testament Studies, counseling, ecclesiology, Christology, soteriology, Church History, apologetics, eschatology, he wrote papers, he preached, he condemned other people’s sin, why shoot him (them). He (they) fell short of the measures he (they) used for other people! He (they) are as guilty as hell! He (they) put God’s name in vain! Shoot him (them) with a submarine launched inter-continental ballistic missile with a carabao dung warhead. He (they) should have known better, much, much better than better!!!!” Or Jesus would have gently and kindly said, “Let them be, forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing. They suffer from spiritual down syndrome.” Or Jesus would have just walked away and say, “I have nothing to do with these sons Sceva.”)

It is not up for me to judge the soul of this Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress (or his ilk). That is outside of my prerogative but it is for me as a saved sinner, to react, to judge and to discern what he has done (or what pastors like him had done) and that is to put the name of God and of the hardworking pastors and workers of God from other churches and from other denominations into shame.

Apologies are good and they should be accepted, but the consequences and the loss of integrity is unfortunately, unforgettable. They have stood up and recovered from their sins but the people they have brought down with them are still flat on their faces in offense. Sometimes people don’t understand that, like these Reverend cum Pastor of a Fundamentalist Baptists church cum politician cum congressman of the Philippine congress.

I sure would like to hear him preach on morality, on clean living, on holiness, on cinemas, on underwear, on honesty, on Desperate Housewives, on government corruption, on evangelism, on counseling, on good stewardship etc. I’m sure it would be fun to listen to him—and his stand up comedy.

Imitate me, then, just as I don’t imitate Christ. 1 Col. 11:1 (The Bad News Bible)

I was a bit touched when a classmate of mine handed me a note saying that he looked up to me as a “real parent.” She thanked me for being kind and for being generous to my classmates. I am a bit rattled because I am not that “close” to them (I am close to them but not in the sense of “close.”). It’s a generation thing really because I can’t relate to the music they listen to, the TV shows they watch (Pinoy Big Brother) and I can’t even keep up with their energy and enthusiasm. So, all a long I was just there in the class most of the time silent, just observing them. So I was thinking what made me generous to them?

Hmmmm….I’m thinking. Maybe it’s because they always ask me for some yellow papers (legal writing paper). It’s like this, most of the time (especially in my junior and senior years) I go to school carrying nothing but a pad of yellow paper and a pen. So whenever there’s a quiz, most of them would look at me, smile and say, “Daddy, can I have a yellow paper?”

Sometimes they come to me for advice.

Sometimes they ask me for a peso or two but they usually pay it back. I remember when we had a play about the life of Rizal. I wrote the script so I was exempted from doing anything else. But sometimes during their practices, I visited them twice and I brought with me pandecocos (bread with coconut filling) and like little girls some of them would jump and shout, “Daddy has brought us some meriendas!” Of course I did not do it to impress my classmates. The easiest thing to do is to impress people; all that takes is the ability to lie without flinching. No, it’s not to impress them. It’s really to ease my guilt at seeing my classmates practicing the play immediately after our classes while I had nothing to do.

This is not unique for me because our class has mommies too, student my age who are also studying to be teachers. They are treated the same way I was treated, like a parent. I remember one of these mommies distributing gelatins and candies and sweets to the class and my classmates, like children, were so happy.

Of course to us adult students, these little things, like giving those candies or the pandecocos are nothing but random acts of little kindness but for me (I don’t know about the mommies) and maybe without me knowing it, I had created an image in their minds of me being a daddy or a big brother.

Here’s the funny part, I think I conformed to that daddy or big brother image not because I tried to be one, but because unconsciously, I began to see myself hating to disappoint these little classmates of mine.

These little classmates of mine inspired me, and I hope in some ways I inspired them too.

Blind Willie Johnson Trouble Soon be Over

I love traditional blues. This one is a gospel blues sung by Blind Willie Johnson. YOu van feel the music through the black and white movie as well as in the guitar playing and singing. So spiritual!

I feel like a Daddy!

Posing with my classmates as we line up for our lunch during our student teacher enhancement seminar. As you can see, there are very few men/male who take elementary education here in the Philippines, eighty percent of my classmates are beautiful ma'ams.

With Michelle the bunso (youngest or should I say the cutest) of the class. I am very proud of my classmates. I can't help but feel emotional because a few months from now we will be on our own as teachers amd I will be missing how they make fun of me. Four years of being the Kuya and Daddy to these wonderful human beings and now we'll be spread across the province of Rizal for our practice teaching. My gulay, what an emotional moment.
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Posing with the campus mothers: The lady in yellow, the one with the glasses is the mother of the campus Mrs. Violeta T. Cano, the Dean of the Institute of Education. She has been teaching for more than three decades now. As a testament to her dedication and staying power, the University President and the Campus Chancellor were her former students and it's wonderful how they acknowledge Mommy Cano whenever they give speeches. Besides Mommy Cano is the Cluster II Director for Student Development (I forgot her name!) and the Cluster II Campus Chancellor Dr. Reneecillia Paz-de Leon.

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We felt like brave soldiers being commissioned for battle.
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I love my humble school.

What!? No Sembreak!!!!

I thought that we will be having a semestral break but I'm wrong! Instead we will be having student teacher enhancement seminar for two weeks and then after that enrollment. I thought I'd have two weeks of undisturbed reading and blogging and guitar playing and revising my thesis and writing my community immersion papers etc. No rest!

Barber Talk

When I entered the barbershop, I heard two barbers having a passionate discussion about Manny “the National Fist” Pacquaio.

First Barber: “How can they make Manny a hero? Heroes don’t get paid! Heroes don’t gamble! Heroes don’t have extra marital affairs; heroes don’t punch people because of road rage…etc.”

Second Barber: “He is called a hero because he brought honor to the country!”

First Barber: “Since when did hurting other people become honorable?”

Second Barber: “He is a hero because everybody admired him!”

First barber: “That’s wrong! That’s why I tell my children not to admire Manny.”

Third Barber: “He is a hero because he can knock people down!” He is a punching hero!”

First Barber: “ What is happening to the Filipinos?! Ninoy Aquino is a hero because he died for the country, so is Rizal, Bonifacio…these people are heroes not Pacquaio.

Fourth Barber: “Relax. You can teach your children not to admire Manny as a hero but you can’t do anything about other people who admire Manny as a hero!”

Second barber: “This is a democracy!”

First Barber: “See what kind of people admires Pacquaio! You even have the Vice President of the Republic of the Philippines in the ringside….and then being interviewed…look at them…there’s senators congressmen etc.

Second Barber: “That’s politics…”

My barber finished the haircut shaved the hairs on my napes and patilyas (or sideburns). I paid the barber and left the shop. As I close the door, the barbers are still discussing Pacquaio. I can only wonder where the discussions will go next.

(Manny Pacquaio is being hailed as a national hero. This is sad because we all know that its just a marketing ploy.)

My daughter's questions

“Father, what would you like to be when you grow up?”
My daughter asked me
I answered, “I am already old my dear daughter
Look, I am your father and I already have some white hairs.”

“No, What I meant is what would you like to be?”
My daughter asked me again.
And I said,
“I am already old and it’s too late to be a be.”

“Then why are you studying to be a teacher?”
My daughter smiled.
“To tell the truth my dear daughter,
I don’t know why I’m studying to be a teacher”

“All I know is God have a plan for me.
So, please stop asking me
Because it is God who will make me
What He wants me to be.”

“So what does God wants you to be?”
My daughter can’t help but ask.
I just smiled because I know
That that’s the time to shut up.