Wanted: Asst. Team Manager

Job Opening

Position: Assistant Team Manager for the DLSU Green Archers

Requirements:

1.) Must pass a thorough psychological examination to ensure that he is not a gung-ho warfreak just lurking and waiting for a chance to start up a fight during collegiate basketball games.

2.) Must not be a sneaky bastard who would act as if he is a pacifist trying to stop an altercation between two players, only to hit the player from the opposing team from the back.

3.) Must not be a coward who immediately runs (almost entangling his legs in the process) after sneaking the cheapshot.

4.) Must be able to teach new dance steps to Ryan Arana.

5.) Must be able to improvise new trash-talking techniques to be taught to DLSU players as the old ones have not been effective in their psy-war against FEU.

6.) Must be emotionally ready for a loss during his first stint as Assistant Team Manager of DLSU as the FEU Tamaraws, led by a certain Arwind Santos, unleash its fury on a team whose string of victories got into their heads even before they win their “back-to-back” championships.

7.) A true La Sallian Gentleman who can bring class into the basketball organization of DLSU.

Interested applicants may just walk in before Game 2 of the FEU – DLSU Championship Series of the UAAP on Thursday, October 6 at the Big Dome. Wear green.

This is a very urgent requirement.

Grumpy Old Man

The new parking rule of one-side street-parking being implemented in our village has solicited both praises and complaints from homeowners. This is kinda expected with the types of characters living in our neighborhood. And I mean characters.

Take Mr. A for example. He is the type of person you wish would be thrown away to a far away island alone where he would live up his dream of being the self-righteous A-hole that he is. Vote himself the lunatic king of his own island. And live according to his dumb rules, whichever suits him.

My Tita S, who happens to be the VP of our Homeowners’ Association, calls up Mr. A to remind him about the new parking rule which he apparently keeps on forgetting to follow.

“Mr. A, the Board would just like to remind you about our new parking rules being implemented in our village,” Tita S politely informs Mr. A.

“What’s that?!” Mr A’s angry response followed by a very crunchy cussing of the P-word.

“Mr. A, I called you up to politely inform you about our village’s new parking regulations. You do not have an iota of a right to cuss me about it. This is precisely the reason why people in our village find little reason to respect you, considering your seniority.” Tita S says, aghast.

“Whoever thought about that new parking rule? And why weren’t we informed and consulted about it?” Mr. A’s hoarse voice inquires.

“Mr. A, this rule wasn’t cooked up solely by the Board of Directors and Officers of our village. This was handed down to us by the MMDA when we asked them for help regarding our parking problems. And we did invite everyone for consultations. Twice, in fact. You didn’t attend both general assemblies,” replies Tita S.

“Why should we follow them? This is a private subdivision. They cannot impose their rules upon us,” rebuts Mr. A.

“Mr. A, are you kidding me?” Tita S laughs sarcastically. “Don’t you remember that we already gave up those rights when we turned over the duties of paying for our neighborhood’s public utilities to the city government? And what’s funny is that I distinctively recall that you were the President of the Homeowners’ Association during that time. How could you forget?” Yup, folks, that is a perfect example of how dumb and obnoxious Mr. A is. And FYI, Mr. A was voted President by the homeowners as a result of a "let's-see-what-you-can-do-as-president-you-Mister-Reklamador" campaign a few years ago.

Mr. A mumbles something incoherently with his irritatingly hoarse voice.

“You had your chances to voice out your opinions,” informs Tita S. “And you didn’t grab them. It’s not our fault that you are too busy with other extra-curricular activities,” probably hinting about Mr. A's openly discussed habit of taking home bar girls when his wife isn’t around.

“I will not follow those stupid rules. Tow my vehicles if you can. And we’ll see who prevails,” sort of a threat from Mr. A.

“We will definitely tow them if you deliberately break the rules Mr. A. And yes, we will see who prevails.” Tita S hangs up the phone.

Poor Mr. A. Little does he know how well-connected Tita S is. With just one phone call to the MMDA or Mayor’s Office (yes, she has direct access to those people), Mr. A’s vehicle would be towed away just like that.

Yeah, Mr. A, let’s see who prevails. I bet my newly tuned-up vehicle that in the end, our streets would be more spacious. And you, with all of your stubborn witlessness, will have to find out about it the hard way.

Thank You, King Eagle

With around six minutes remaining in the fourth quarter, Coach Norman sent you back in for the final push the team needed. We were down by 13. But the Eagle hopefuls were still hanging on. Still believing. Still believing that you would lead us once more with your end-game heroics.

This is your last year, and maybe your last game, but there must still be something that can be pulled off your sleeves. The magic that has made us believers. How could we have stopped believing? Time and again, you have almost single-handedly lifted the team to victory. Thus, earning you the title of King Eagle this year. That title that was unceremoniously handed down to you unofficially since last year when Larry went down with an ACL injury on that fateful day we faced UP.

Six minutes. Down by thirteen points. We could still make it. And maybe extend your last season for at least one more game.

And just as you re-enter the hardcourt from a brief rest on the bench, you set up the next play, maneuvered through the screens, and freed yourself up for that 3-point jumper by the left quarter-court. Nothing as fancy as that stepback jumper coming from an ankle-breaking crossover you dished off during the dying minutes of the previous game. This one was just a simple, business-like shot from a cold-blooded assassin.

Swoosh!

The blue crowd celebrated into a frenzy. Lead was down to 10. We felt that the 3-point shot was the start of a miraculous comeback only you could engineer. Yes, we could still definitely make it back into the ballgame. We believed.

In the ensuing play, Yeo got set up for a similar 3-point shot by the top of the key. And to our frustration, the ball also found the bottom of the net. Lead was back to that unlucky number 13.

And then it happened.

Just as you were crossing half-court, you dropped down on all fours. Up in the Upper Box section where I was standing, I saw it as if it happened in slow motion. And I almost knew it as soon as I saw it. It has been your recurring weakness for the whole of this season. Those dreaded cramps.

As your teammates helped you on your way back to the bench, the whole community felt for you. This wasn’t the proper way to end your playing days with us. No, there had to be a different interpretation of the phrase “going down fighting”.

But as another cliché goes, the mind is willing but the body is weak. Your cramped up legs were traitors to your plans. And as you lied down by the sidelines as you got your legs massaged, you probably knew about it, too. It might be hard to accept but that 3-point shot may have been your last basket as a Blue Eagle. Watching your teammates being toyed around from the bench must have been really hard. But there was nothing else you could do.

And as the final buzzer sounded and the smoke has cleared, we proudly sang our Alma Mater song one last time for the season. We saw you, Badjie and Magnum – the three Eagles whom we wouldn’t get to see again next season – frustrated with this loss. Up there in the galleries, we may not have visually confirmed if tears indeed welled up in your eyes, as others said. But we sure felt how broken your hearts were for not being able to finish this season with a win against our arch-rivals.

You may not have heard it but sporadic shouts of “Thank you, LA!” were yelled by the crowd in our sections.

For all those times you made that step-back three. For all those times you disrespected tall defenders with your acrobatic reverse lay-ups. For those nifty no-look assists you dished out. And for showing everyone, including your detractors, how big the heart of an Atenean really is. Your roots may be red, as you were trained as a Cub in Mendiola, but we are all certain your heart bleeds blue as soon as you stepped into the hardcourt wearing Our Lady's colors.

Thank you for the five years of service to the Blue and White.

Thank you, LA. Thank you, King Eagle!

Where Does Sandara Park?

The MMDA recently issued new rules inside our village regarding parking to curb the worsening problem of congestion along our streets. Mind you, the congestion is not because of the volume of traffic along the roads of our humble subdivision. But it is because of all of those parked cars along the streets that have practically made driving a strategy game, especially when there is another car approaching you from the opposite direction. And yeah, those smartly-placed humps add to the difficulty level.

There is something we have in common with people in the US. That people do not park their cars in the garages. I have observed while I was in the US that the garage usually contains all the junk of the house and becomes the workstation during the weekends. With the garage practically filled up, they choose to park their cars along their driveways.

And there lies the major difference. We do not have driveways here. Heck, we do not even have sidewalks here so what driveway can you expect from those realty developers? And for whatever reason, people prefer not to use their garages for parking. Even my parents are guilty of this. They build a garage fit for 4 cars, and when you pay a visit to their house, chances are you would only get to see one car in the garage, and the other two are parked outside, right in front of their house. Their pet bullbog makes the vacant portion of the garage her playgound. How spoiled.

So as of now, this sort of experimental parking rule is in effect in our village. People can only park their cars using one side of the street. Leave the other side of the road empty to prevent congestion.

Pretty soon, this parking rule, if proven to be effective and implementable, would also be applied to other subdivisions in Pasig. And when it reaches the village where my parents reside, they may have to decide to move over their pet bulldog back to the front yard, the back yard, or the lanai.

ACET, UPCAT, ATBP

I just learned while blog-surfing that the ACET has just been conducted last weekend. For those unfamiliar with it, it’s the Ateneo College Entrance Test.

And I was a bit surprised with a young girl’s blog entry about her ACET experience. She said that she was also surprised that she found it much easier than the UPCAT (UP College Admissions Test). She actually found the ACET fairly easy that she even had enough time to sleep when she finished one section of the test ahead of time. Wow!

I took 4 college entrance exams 18 years ago (all of which I passed, thank you). And with all due respect to the Maroons reading this blog, I found the UPCAT much easier than the ACET. Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s harder to get in the Ateneo than to enter UP. It’s just the entrance exams I am talking about here. But for that kid to say that the ACET was easy, that certainly confuses me.

During our first few days as freshmen in the Ateneo, we did discuss the subject of the entrance exams. I told them that I never thought I would pass the ACET after taking it. And to my surprise, even the smartest among us, thought the same. And yes, I’m even talking about the Philippine representative to the International Math Olympiad here who didn’t finish the Math portion of the ACET himself. Whew, that was a sigh of relief for me there. I wasn’t as dumb as I thought I was after all.

I wouldn’t say that the UPCAT during my time was easy. But neither was it too hard. But the ACET? Man, oh, man. The perfect words to describe it would be frustratingly difficult. And that would even be an understatement when you compare it to another school’s entrance test (which I choose not to name). The other school’s entrance test was insultingly easy that I even found time to sleep when I finished one section of the exam way ahead of time. And no, I didn’t just get this idea from that girl who blogged about it. I swear it actually happened.

So, maybe the Ateneo did revise the ACET to become a bit easier. Or maybe UPCAT became harder. Or maybe that girl blogging just didn’t know what she was talking about.

Whatever it is, the entrance exam is just the first step. What matters more is how you stay in your chosen course and school.

And for all the energy and mindpower that the ACET drained off me, I can positively say that the whole Ateneo experience was well worth it.

Are You In Or Out?

I brought my vehicle to the auto shop earlier. It was a bit overdue for its prescribed mileage tune-up. And since it was already late in the afternoon when I brought it there, I had to leave it overnight for them to finish up working on it. Thus, I had to commute on my way back home.

On my way to the waiting shed, I was trying to decide which mode of public transportation to take going home. The choices were a.) taxi b.) FX, and c.) jeepney.

I have never been a cab-riding commuter. There’s just something about the smell of most Metro Manila taxi cabs that makes my guts turn upside down. Try playing badminton for 4 straight hours. After that, put all your sweat-drenched clothing – shirt, socks, and shoes – inside your sports bag and let it stay there for one whole day. When you open the bag the following day, that kind of smell is what I recall when I open the door of a taxi cab here in Metro Manila. Well, of course, there are exceptions, especially with the relatively new and well-maintained cabs being driven around the metro. I think my description would apply more to those Gemini taxi cabs of the 80’s which are already phased out by now. But still, that has been how my mind was conditioned when you say taxi cabs.

I haven’t been an FX rider either. This fairly new mode of transportation is actually a cross between the earlier described stinky taxi cab, and the distinctively Pinoy jeepney. I am still amazed how ten people can actually fit inside one of those.

But I didn’t take an FX earlier. Coz I decided that I would take the good ol’ jeepney. Yup, the proud product of Pinoy ingenuity. The king of Metro Manila roads. And the object of my ever-expanding vocabulary of cuss words.

It seemed that I really missed riding the jeepney. The smell of Manila’s smoke-polluted air. The langka-flavored body odor of that person beside you. The sight of the oblivious young couple in front of you. The sound of its blasting radio mixing with the zoom of all the vehicles around you. The suffocating heat inside during a traffic jam. And the unwritten in-and-out rule of seating when your side reaches maximum seating capacity.

So, are you in? Or are you out? Riding a jeepney is a total experience. A totally Pinoy experience.

Short Shirt Story

My family has been involved in the garments industry since the early 80's. And we have been catering generally to the local market. You know, those types of casual t-shirts that you buy from the department stores and your favorite tiangge outlet.

And with this particular background, I have been pretty updated on the latest trends on Manila’s casual fashion wear particularly with the basic staple of everyday wear – the t-shirt. I may not be a fashionista like my wife. But I do understand the way trend and fashion come and go.

I remember way back in the late 80's, when I entered college, girls and guys alike basically wore the same cut of shirt. The girls just had more girly and cutesy designs or prints on their shirts. And they just wore sizes relatively smaller than the boys’. Guys liked wearing them loose and comfortable. But as for the cut of the shirts, they were all the same -- straight on the body, and standard proportions for the sleeves – both for guys and girls.

But as time went on, the shirt industry saw some major leaps in the market. Thanks to the cut-throat competition between the then-emerging local brands in the casual wear market. The products eventually became more specialized. And the market consequentially became more segmented.

The cut of the t-shirt, particularly for the ladies, thankfully began showing some shapes and revealed more skin. The body of the girls’ shirts became shorter, narrower and more defining to the female’s natural body curves. The sleeves took a variety of shapes and lengths. And even the neckline became more adventurous in the way it was worn. New products like the baby-tee, the tank top, and the body-hugging shirts literally and figuratively stretched the spectrum of casual fashion for the ladies.

I remember way back in college, a girl classmate of ours once wore a tight-fitting sleeveless shirt to class. And she was, um, shall we say, nicely figured especially in the chest area. And as expected, all the males in our class enjoyably noticed it. Who wouldn’t? That was still a time when casual clothing was still very conservative. You know those pieces of clothing most girls nowadays wear at parties and gimiks? We used to consider them underwear. And no girl in her right mind, no matter how adventurous, would dare wear it when going to a mall (yes, the very first modern mall of Metro Manila, the Robinson’s Galleria, was constructed during our early college days, just in case you're wondering).

But hey, who’s complaining? I bet all shirts I have in my closet that the men aren’t complaining. And I too, am certainly not. On many levels at that. First, it’s good for our business – less fabric, less cost of goods, better profit. Second, it gives more room for creativity and personality statements for the ladies. And lastly, it provides more eye candy for people like me who know how to appreciate sexiness in clothes and the way clothes fit the female body.

Only time can tell what's in store for us in terms of casual wear in the future. But something tells me that we are going to enjoy it even more.

To Be. Or Not. Tutubi

Tutubi, tutubi
Wag ka magpahuli
Sa batang mapanghi

I saw a dragonfly in our front yard this morning. It was a red one. Or as I and my playmates used to call it when we were still young -- tutubing tanga.

You would have to have experienced catching dragonflies to know the reason behind its demeaning nickname.

Dragonfly-catching, just like other juvenile sports, requires skills and techniques which can only be improved thru practice. Yes, kids, these types of activities constituted the leisure time hobbies of kids before PS2 was invented.

And dragonfly-catching, just like the modern-day PS2 games, has different levels of difficulty. And believe it or not, it depends solely on the color of the dragonfly that you choose to catch.

The red dragonfly I just saw earlier would belong to the easy or novice level. Most of the time, the red ones are large. And maybe, their size becomes a liability for their speed factor, that they find it difficult to zoom away fast enough when they need to. It's pretty easy to catch red dragonflies.

Now, should catching the red ones bore you, move up to the next level. Try catching a green dragonfly. But this would need some more skill on your part since they are smaller and faster than the red ones. You have to be real quiet when sneaking up behind it and catching it on its tail between your thumb and your forefinger.

The last type of dragonfly is the blue one. Now, this is where boys get separated from the, um, well, slower boys. You really have to be an expert if you wish to catch a blue dragonfly. The thumb-forefinger method isn't usually effective when catching it. The blue ones are a lot faster, quicker reflexed, and generally more paranoid than the others. The slightest of movements is enough for them to sense and fly farther away from you. So the snatch technique is the best to apply in catching them. Quietly approach it from behind. And when you are already at a comfortable distance, not too close that it notices you, but close enough to be within your arm's reach, grab it. Using lightning speed, grab it, as if with a slapping motion. Quickly close your hand as soon as you feel it touch your palm. But be careful not to crush it.

I used to catch all kinds of dragonflies when I was a kid. Red, green, blue, the teeny-weeny tutubing karayom, and even the humongous tutubing kalabaw. Sometimes my friends and I did it just for the thrill of it - eventually releasing them after a while. Some kids experimented with them by tearing off their wings or tails. While some kids, already showing signs of psychotic behavior, decapitated the head of the poor creature by giving it a pitik. (Is there an English term for pitik?)

And as I told you, the dragonfly I saw earlier was a red one - the tutubing tanga. It would have been easy picking for me. But I decided not to catch it though. I guess I outgrew the childish sport. And besides, di na kasi ako pumapatol sa tanga.

Starstruck in LA

The spring breeze in LA feels cooler than normal as it touches my skin. Yet I feel the dampness of my sweat hugging my body. This is the familiar nervous feeling I get whenever a big event in my life is about to happen. And today is gonna be one of them. I'm going to meet an idol I have long-dreamed of meeting since I was still a kid.

And as I enter his house, I feel my heartbeat getting faster and faster. Partly it may have been due to the fatigue brought about by this very busy day. Since early this morning, continuous activities filled my day. And this particular meeting shall be a high point in this very hectic, yet excitement-filled adventure.

A simple prayer is said in my mind. Please let everything turn out ok during this memorable event of my life.

I was half-expecting him to greet me as I entered his doorway. Maybe seated in his living room, he would motion for me to sit down with him and have coffee. But I knew that was wishful thinking. I knew that he is a very busy being. In fact, he is still currently attending to other people who were also longing to meet him. But I'm willing to wait for my chance to finally shake hands with him. I've travelled long and far just to be here. And a little more patience wouldn't hurt.

I survey the inside of his house. Everything is quite the way I expected it. The fun-filled atmosphere, the funky colors, the warm feeling of home as radiated by his sunny personality. I had my picture taken by his piano, imagining the moments when he would fill the room with the music he plays. I wonder what type of pieces does he like to play?

I also imagine him using that telephone by the corner. The conversations that the telephone was a party to. I could almost hear his snicker and laughter by this end of the phone conversation.

As I enter the other room, the excitement steadily grew. Right behind that wall is where I would finally meet him. I clasp together my clammy hands. I have to wipe them dry from all the nervousness I was feeling. Must project a good first impression to him as I shake his hand.

So this is it. The moment I have been dreaming of since I was a kid. Meeting him who has given me so much joy and laughter. Him who has been the symbol of dreams coming true. Finally, mine would come true today. Right here. Right now.

As I entered the room, I realized what starstruck deeply meant. For a moment, it failed to register to me as real. But it quickly faded as I approached him and shook his hand. Oh my God, he is real. I just shook his hand. And everything that followed felt like a scene from my own personal notion of heaven happening in slow motion.

A picture is very much treasured in moments like this. And so shots were taken. Pictures that I would forever cherish for the rest of my life.

Another short prayer is uttered in my mind.

Thank You, Lord, for finally letting me personally meet...

Mickey Mouse.

Play That Funky Music

It's true that I have an eclectic taste in music. I can appreciate most genres. Depending on my mood, I listen to different types of music.

For me, there are certain songs which I like to play when I'm driving. Well, let me qualify that coz driving music to me has different categories. Like when I'm driving alone, I like listening to house or hiphop music. Keeps me awake and alert. Plus, I feel cool, hoping that I also project that cool image when people see me from the outside (yeah, I wish). Sometimes I also do listen to FM radio just to get me updated on the songs being played on Philippine radio. But when I'm driving and I have company with me inside the car, I like playing singable tunes. OPM songs belong to this category. Nothing beats an instant karaoke session inside your car to keep you from being bored especially during long trips. Sleeping is strictly prohibited when I'm driving.

When working or doing something with my computer, that's the perfect time for me to listen to new CD's or any new music I've downloaded from the net (shhhh...). This is when I choose which tracks would be my favorites since they are catchy enough to get my attention from whatever it is I'm doing.

But if what I'm doing requires full concentration, like balancing my checkbook and trying to remember where all my money went, I prefer classical or broadway music. It seems to me that they do a great deal in stimulating my mind (but, unluckily, not in figuring out what's wrong with my budget).

Now, for party music, I have different levels for it. Hey, you're reading a DJ's blog here, remember? Depending on the age and taste of the people I am with, I have the special program prepared for them. Candy music when I want to play safe with my music (think Swing Out Sister). Nostalgic 80's new wave (from Aztec Camera to Yazoo) during drinking sessions which my Gen-X buddies. Head-bobbing RnB / hiphop / rap music when I'm with kids who associate the lyrics of "Every Breathe You Take" to P.Diddy (formerly Puff Daddy, and now wants to change it to Diddy; what's next? D?) in "I'll Be Missing You". And lastly there's pounding house music, all sub-genres of it - funky house, hard house, vocal house, techno-house for chest-thumping, feet-tapping, mood-setting dance atmosphere.

There's just this weird choice of music that I, myself, do not fully understand. And I remember this taste or habit dates back to my college days. Usually, after mindpower-sapping exams, when I get home, I lie down on my bed, turn up the volume of my player, and listen to heavy metal music until I fall asleep. Yup, hard, noisy, heavy, hardly-comprehensible, metal music. And I fall asleep listening to it.

I have a theory. Maybe when my brain detects this type of music, my brains cells go haywire trying to make sense of the auditory stimulus. And in the process, it eventually gives up on the task and consequentially goes into its emergency shut down mode. Thus, I easily fall asleep.

I wonder what would happen if I watch an Iron Maiden concert.

Hmmm...

Nah, I don't wanna risk being sent into a comatose.

Cruise Control

It was only yesterday that I realized that the Star Tollway in Batangas is a place in the Philippines where you can actually use the Cruise Control System. (The only other length of highway I can think of that can rival it would be the new and improved stretch of the North Luzon Expressway.) Not that I was actually able to use Cruise Control since my humble Crosswind doesn't have that feature installed in it. And I know that it is quite unheard of here in the Philippines since the traffic situation here wouldn't even allow a driver to step on the accelerator for more than ten seconds straight without rear-ending the vehicle in front of it. Not even along the misnomered South Superhighway.

But having lived in the States for a while, I know the convenience the Cruise Control System gives to drivers especially for those long drives going from LA to Las Vegas during those long weekends. And yesterday, driving along the Star Tollway in Batangas, I wish I had this feature in my car. It would have given my right foot more resting time which would be later needed when I return to Manila for its normal stop-and-go traffic.

Did you know that the Cruise Control feature is more common with American cars than with their European counterparts? It is simply because the roads in America are generally wider, straighter and destinations are relatively farther apart. It would seem that those Americans have less stressful driving experiences. Of course, I can almost hear those Southern California drivers who trek the 405 daily during rush hour disagreeing with me. But that is more of an exception, I guess.

So, as I blankly stared at the seemingly endless road ahead of me, I tried to keep myself awake by chatting with my 8-year old nephew, who tenaciously insisted on sitting in the front passenger seat, thus effectively displacing my wife to the back seat.

All of a sudden, vvrroooooooommmm!!!

A white sedan zoomed by the other lane so fast that it somehow jolted me from my mindless driving.

It was a Bimmer, 316i I believe. Though I am not really sure if I saw it correctly since it passed by real fast that for just one single second after it zoomed right beside us, it was already a good 15 meters ahead of us.

I looked at my speedometer. I was doing 110. I did some quick calculations in my mind. One second, 15 meters, 15 x 60 equals 900, 900 x 60 equals 54,000. (I know, I'm such a geek.) Damn! That Bimmer was doing 50-60 kph faster than our current speed. Around 160 - 170 kph. Is there any place in the Philippines where speed limits are actually implemented? Really. I am starting to believe those speed limits, like most traffic signs here the Philippines, are mere suggestions.

The American Cruise Control System. And the superiority of German engineering. Wouldn't it be so kewl if I had them in my car? But then again, I do not really pass by the Star Tollway that often so I actually have seldom use for them. And during these times when oil companies increase their fuel prices faster than a Ferrari on steroids, I would still prefer my diesel-fed Isuzu Crosswind. Especially on these long road trips.

My trip may take a bit longer. But I'm pretty sure my gas money will also go a longer way. If I had the hard statistics here with me, I'll volunteer to do the math again for your comparison.

I told you, I'm a geek. A very practical geek at that.

The Way You Look Tonight

The soft glow of our bedside lamp serves as the only illumination in our room. Shadows seem to move swiftly yet smoothly as casted on our bedroom walls and curtains. Anyone passing outside our house would have seen our shadows had they looked up to the windows of our bedroom by the veranda.

The aroma of the scented candles also helps set up the romantic tone. Outside, the stillness of the night is abruptly shattered by the sudden downpour of the rains. But Michael Buble is undaunted as he croons in the background. The Buble CD is the perfect music for this occasion.

Someday, when I'm awfully low,
When the world is cold...

My wife and I love this song. The romance in My Best Friend's Wedding gave new life to its lyrics. But for us tonight, it is the perfect ballad to set the mood. I warmly hug my wife as we dance slowly around our bedroom. We take leisurely, deliberate steps as we waltz around our private little world.

As we look into each other's eyes, we sing the words of the song. Softly whispering into each other's ears.

And we suddenly saw the humor in what we were doing. We break into a laughter that abruptly ended the sweet dance we were doing just a few moments ago as we realize how unfitting the lyrics of the song is to our present appearances.

I will feel a glow just thinking of you...
And the way you look tonight.

I was already in my usual sleeping attire -- sando tucked in my boxers and all. And she was in her oversized shirt with her face freshly applied with moisturizer and patches of medicinal acne cream. Yeah, how romantic, the way we look tonight.

Bedtime Stories

Some people I know have lots of rituals before they go to sleep. Some apply tons of cream on their faces in front of the mirror before going to bed. Remember Ly-na? I sure do. For those who are too young and lucky enough not to know what it is, well, it is a type of cream one could buy over the counter (maybe even from a sari-sari store) which, they say, possesses magical powers to whiten your facial skin. The nightmare of seeing it on our housemaid during night time when we were still young has forever scarred my memories.

Some girls comb their hair endlessly before they sleep. I really don't know what it does to the health of their hair. Does it straighten their hair more? Does it promote speedy growth? Does it make their hair more shiny? I remember my Mom once told me that the veterinarian of her pet maltese advised her to comb the hair of her pet so that it grows long, shiny, and tangle-free. The vet advised her to do it for about one hour every after bath. Of course, my mom didn't have the patience for that. She did the next most logical grooming method she knows -- cut the hair of her poor maltese when it grows to unmanageable length.

Wait, where was I? Oh yeah, the nocturnal habits.

I also have a strange sleeping habit. No, it's not a kinky one, you green-minded smart-ass. I actually didn't know it was a weird one until some friends took notice during one of those groups outings.

When I go to sleep, I usually just wear boxers and sando or any air-cool shirt (translation: shirt full of holes that if I wore it outside our house, the security guard of our village would ask me for identification to verify if I really live here).

But what makes my night time fashion sense weird isn't the 'holey' wardrobe preference. It's with the way I wear them. I like to tuck my shirt in my boxers before going to sleep. Yup, tuck in, baby. Why? Because I like to. Because I do not enjoy the feeling of my tummy or my backside being exposed when I sleep. Because I want to compensate for the squatter look of my clothes with the formality of the way I carry myself in my sleep.

You, what's your ritual when going to sleep?

A Complete Trip Down Memory Lane

Coming out from the oven-hot Blue Eagle Gym, the rain seemed to complement the gloomy feeling we had as UST dealt us a disrespectful loss which broke our team's 7-game winning streak. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not in our house.

As we approach the muddy spot where we parked our car, the memories start rushing in.

"This spot where we parked our car used to be all green. Part of that expansive field that is now slowly being occupied by new buildings. I remember that we even ran across this field before as we tried to launch our kites during one of our PE classes in college," I tell my wife.

"You flew kites in college?" my wife asks trying to confirm if she heard it right.

"Yup, one of those stupid PE classes that was left open since all the other classes were already filled up by the time I got to register. It was called Recreational PE," I tell my wife.

"And you flew kites for PE?" my wife asks again, implying that it was unthinkable for college kids to run around these fields like young children released in a playground.

"Among other things. We sometimes played mini-golf, watched movies, played board games, those sorts of stuff. Anything goes actually. But what we liked most about it was that we mostly had free cuts. So we had time to do some others things. You know how college life is," I explained to her.

"Ayus ah," my wife replies as she tries to avoid the mud spots while she gets into our car. It was a right decision for her just to wear flipflops.

I wipe off my forehead with my hanky. It was already a mixture of sweat and raindrops from the drizzle. I inhaled one last breath as I entered the car. The air still smelled the way I remember it. And I recall telling my wife before when she asked how come most Atenistas are mayayabang, I replied, "It's in the air that we breathe."

"Looks like the jinx is alive in me once again," pronounces my wife inside the car referring to her bad luck of the Eagles losing everytime she watches the game live.

"Nah, UST deserved that win. All their three-point shots were falling in. But despite the loss, I did have a good time. The last-ditch rally gave us all the adrenaline-rush we wanted. And the halftime show by the Band was hilarious," I reply referring to the lesser-exposed members of the Blue Babble Battalion who performed their traditional one-game halftime show for the season.

"Yup, that was funny. Even the cheerleaders from the UST side were applauding," my wife agrees.

The deafening sound of the bass drums. The stifling heat inside the gym. The sight of the spacious Ateneo fields. The distinct smell of the air inside our campus. And the feel of the hallowed grounds under my feet.

Just one more sense to satisfy in order to complete this trip down memory lane. And as our car exits the gate of the Loyola campus, I spotted it immediately.

I quickly maneuvered to stop by the side of Katipunan to buy the taste I distinctly relate to the Ateneo.

The famous Ateneo corn.

Girl, Is The Diamond Your Best Friend?

While it is true that a diamond is really a beauty to behold, this blog entry is about to challenge the common notion about the diamond, or jewelry in general, as an investment.

A diamond is a girl's best friend. Or so the saying goes. Was it DeBeers who tagged that line in order to attract buyers of their luxurious products? Or was it a justification cooked up by the women in order to rationalize their love affair with the precious stone?

And we commomly hear it from the wives or girlfriends: a diamond is an investment. And they justify the reason for buying those expensive jewelry under the guise of investing.

But let me break down that argument level by level.

What is an investment by the way? In simple layman terms, an investment is something you put your money into with the expectation that it increases in value as time goes on. At face value, the argument that a diamond is an investment seems to hold true. When you buy a diamond and you sell it at a future date, chances are your selling price is higher than your buying price. And that constitutes profit. And profit equals a good investment. Right?

Maybe.

The reason I said maybe is that when our ladies buy diamonds, they do not really buy it with the intention of selling them in the future. They intend to hold on to it for as long as they can. Now, tell me if I am incorrect with that statement. So, with the purpose of the investment defeated, we cannot really classify it as such.

Now, let's assume that a couple who used to be pretty financially well-off suddenly feels the squeeze in their budget. Maybe the business has gone bad, or either of the couple got laid off from work. You would probably think that this would be the perfect time to let go of those jewelry so that they can afford some liquidity in their finances. But does it really happen? Chances are other valuable things in the household would go first before selling those diamonds locked up in the jewelry boxes or safes. Maybe the extra car would go, or that plasma TV, or those other seldom-used appliances at home. But the jewelry would go last, if they go at all.

And then, assuming that the couple would really need the extra money from the sale of those jewelry, that would mean that the order of hierarchy in selling valuable things in the household has reached critical levels. Selling jewelry would almost be unthinkable, but if they do reach that point, chances are they would almost be willing to sell the jewelry at bargain prices. And that, sad to say, is what usually happens. Just to be liquid, they sacrifice the profit from their so-called investment. And when that happens, can we just say that it was, um, a bad investment?

I have nothing against buying jewelry or diamonds as long as the money used to buy them is really disposable income. Money you can afford to splurge on luxuries. Some people do really have budgets for those. These luxury items may not make them earn more money, but the status symbol it brings may just be as important for them. There are things money can buy to make some people feel good about themselves. And diamonds are certainly in that category.

But to justify the purchase as an investment would be like saying I bought my pet arowana to secure our home when we are away.