November 2013 Diaries (3 of 3)

January 18-24 Edition

Jonathan Aquino's Journal

November 20, 2013

6:41 a.m., Wednesday

Morning

I just saw a man outside my apartment near Banilad, Cebu as I arrived from work ten minutes ago.

He lay on the gutter, seemingly dead.

There were paramedics who had put a brace on his neck; one was holding aloft an IV solution.

The indifferent yet fascinated crowd boxed them in.

The man fell off his motorcycle, goes the buzz; That much I can understand from the local dialect. Later, the ambulance came.

If it happened in Manila, the man would surely die. In Manila, there are no paramedics, much less ambulance squads except for the one from TV5. I remember almost being arrested when I saw a man dying on the street near the United States Embassy in Manila years back. I told the cop, who was just standing there, to call for help. His reaction was vehement arrogance. I was a lot younger then, a lot more naive about this country's culture.

Since then, I have lost complete trust in authority figures. In Manila, a place where an accident happened is considered the scene of a crime. Therefore, if you try to help an accident victim before the so-called investigators arrive, you will be declared guilty of obstructing justice.

This is what happened to SM Pampanga where two teenage boys died. Even the security guards refused to help because they were enforcing stupid rules. I wrote about that in our November 30, 2011 edition.

The worst thing that could ever happen to me is to see someone I care about suffering. One of my closest friends in the office had an attack of chronic allergic rhinitis as our shift ended at six earlier. I was really worried, not because he was in real danger, but it's just that I can't bear to see my friends suffer.

I'm sorry for what happened to the man outside. But the fact that there are ambulances and paramedics here in Cebu gives me a measure of comfort. For all I know, it might be me who will face a gruesome death tomorrow.

Death seemed eminent lately. Another close office colleague has told me about his 91-year old grandfather who was rushed to the hospital last weekend. While at the intensive care unit, the patient suffered a heart attack. Now on the fourth day of confinement, the condition is still unstable.

"I won't give you empty words, bro," I told him in Tagalog. "Most people, in situations like these, would try to comfort you with God works in mysterious ways' or stuff like that. I'm sure they mean well, but it doesn't help any. There's really nothing I can say."

Night

I'm writing this while on my nightshift lunch break. Earlier, I was watching Ocean's Eleven on cable while having some toge sprouts for dinner.

I was in the office pantry while Danny (George Clooney) and Tess (Julia Roberts) were in the restaurant before Benedict (Andy Garcia) arrived.

"I came back for you," says Danny.

"You're a thief and a liar," Tess tells him. "Why should I believe you?"

"The only thing I lied about is being a thief," he replies, "and I don't do that anymore."

"Steal?"

"Lie."

Ocean's Eleven

I was able to see the ending of Terminator 3: Rise of the Machine just a few seconds before I had to log in for work at nine.

"Sometimes," says John Connors, after he was smuggled in a coffin, "things happen that we can't change."

Connors is now a young adult. He said that to Katherine Brewster, who, much to his surprise, is set to become his wife.

"You're a mess!" she tells him.

"Well," he shot back, "you're not exactly my type, either!"

He also gets another revelation about his future: the Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger) would be re-set to kill him.

But there are more urgent things in his mind. They're being stalked by T-X, the invinsible shape -shifting killing machine - and a global nuclear holocaust is about to destroy the whole human race.

Time is running out: just less than three hours to go before the end of the world.

"Judgment Day." 

Terminator 3: Rise of The Machine

November 25, 2013

The game was in full swing. People stood watching on all four sides of the basketball court.

I was taking an early evening stroll in my new place near Cebu's business district yesterday. It's a typical middle-class Filipino urban residential area, not a slum nor suburbia. You have here your usual sari-sari (retail variety) stores and carinderia (neighborhood eateries) stalls. There's a lot of those local varieties of sausages and pork innards being grilled on the sidewalk.

I just moved here last Saturday. I wanted a place near where I work, and I got one. It would take me about five minutes to walk. My new place is a small concrete room with white-washed walls, with a bed, a desk, a cabinet and lots of shelves. It seemed perfect for a writer and a bookworm homebody like me. In a flash, it solved two of my most urgent needs -- it's quiet and stays cool in the daytime. The most attractive part is the cheap rent that will help me organize my finances better for my personal projects and future travels.

One of my Cebu buddies, Harvey,  helped me in finding it and in moving my stuff. I got the tip to look in that area from one of my office colleagues, R. One time last week, I played hooky during the training downtime. I escaped to one of the pantries on another floor to watch cable movies. R just happens to be there. It was serendipity all the way.

"I have long ago mastered the art of moving," I texted a friend. This is my smoothest house transition so far. I don't need much clothes: I gave most of my decent ones to our office's relief drive for the people in Tacloban. With my immortal black and blue Nike Jordan knapsack on my back, a box-type electric fan on one hand and the other on my pocket, I'm all set.

November 2013 Diaries (2 of 3)

January 11-17 Edition

Jonathan Aquino's Journal

               

November 7, 2013

7:15 p.m.

Haiyan, locally known as "Super Typhoon" Yolanda, is about to hit us tonight.

I'm writing this in one of the office cafeterias, with a plastic cup of warm water.

Rain began to fall softly.

President Noynoy Aquino had a live broadcast on the evening news just a couple of minutes ago. The government is making preparations for what meteorologists predict to be the strongest storm in recent Philippine history.

The Western Visayas region, which includes Cebu where I am now, could face signal Number Four, which is totally unheard of in decades. I heard news of people panicking and going on mad grocery binges. Of course they would.

Now, on the brink of a giant storm with catastrophic proportions, I'm in the pantry watching the doomsday movie 2012.

"None of us are strangers," said the President, played by Danny Glover. "We are one family facing the darkness together."

2012

November 8, 2013

2:01 a.m.

We were sent home early because of the storm. I just home to my apartment in the city. I really appreciate that Dave, our trainer from India, coordinated and actually paid for the taxis since there are no more jeepneys. It's rare to find people in management who show they care beyond lip service rhetoric.

I didn't join the others. I feel very uncomfortable taking money from anybody. Besides, my apartment is a just few meters away. So I just watched 10 Years on the pantry for a while. It's the part from a guy singing with a guitar on stage to where Channing Tatum and Rosario Dawson are dancing as the bar is closing.

10 Years

At the same time, how can I possibly explain that I love the rain, even singing in the rain like the legendary Gene Kelly?

Singin' In The Rain

I love walking alone and I love the feeling in the air after the rain. It frees my mind and ignites my creative juices. There's nobody like me where I'm currently working, not even my lunch buddies J and N. Somehow I doubt there is one in the world. If I cared about fitting in, which I don't, I might have felt isolated. But I don't. I just feel so free.

Only a true artist would understand.

7:43 p.m.

It's raining outside. This morning it was like a baby hurricane. I woke up when night rolled in, enveloped in darkness. Apparently there was a brown-out. The text message I've been waiting for from our supervisor Yssa came in just then: it's official: no work tonight because of the storm and because we're still in training.

So now I can look forward to a quiet night in the comfort and safety of my own room. It would be so nice curling up with a paperback while the elements rage outside. A lot of people I've met recently would be bored by the idea of staying at home, and I won't be surprised if some of some of them would even be horrified at the mere thought of being alone. I thought "Home Alone" is a comedy. All I want is a simple and quiet life. I want to be away from the pretentious and narrow minded.

"Some people think that the physical things define what's within," goes the song.

If I Ain't Got You

Alicia Keys

There's a old sea-side village way down south of the city. Only the locals know about it. When I arrived in Cebu earlier this year with a broken heart, that's where I found a measure of emotional peace. Then, when something happened to me in Cebu that almost crushed my spirit, the sea never fails to bring me the strength I need. I call it home.

That's all I ever wanted.

"All I want, is what I had back then, when time was my friend," Stephen sings, the theme of one of my favorite movies of all time.

All I Want For Christmas

All I Want

Stephen Bishop

"All I want

is the promise you'll stay,

All I want

is one more yesterday..."

November 2013 Diaries (1 of 3)

January 4-10 Edition

Jonathan Aquino's Journals

November 1, 2013

It's 10:26 p.m., Friday as I write this. I'm in Cebu.

I'm here because I'm traveler, and I spent my life working my way to various places.

I left Manila early this year. A personal reason compelled me to leave everything behind including a budding film career. The pain was just too much, and I realized that I had ran out of reasons to stay.

The travel and the solitude in a remote sea side town here are part of the emotional healing I desperately needed.

Then around the second quarter, I faced the most negative event in my life, in the sense that I have completely lost my faith in humanity. I've been struggling against that but it finally happened. I call that event my "Encounter with Doomsday." The effect on me is irreperable. 

But hey, it's all part of the trip.

"What a journey it has been, and the end is not in sight," goes one of my personal anthems, "but the stars are out tonight, and they're bound to guide my way..."

The Journey

Lea Salonga

November 3, 2013

3:15 p.m., Sunday

I'm in the large garden of a friend's house somewhere in the south of Cebu just a few meters from the sea. He's inside getting stuff for our barbecue and early outdoor dinner.  I'll be moving in tonight in a large room in the grand mansion across the street. My new landlady is now preparing the receipt and the room.

For the first in quite some time in my nomadic existence, I'll be living in a place that could potentially serve my needs except for the glaring fact that I have to pass the main living room to get to the stairs. My second-floor sanctuary is quiet and cool in the daytime, unlike my apartment in the city. It's large enough so I can dance again, though I don't do it professionally anymore.

(123rf.com)

What looks promising is the rectangular shape of the room because it's conducive to the smooth flow of positive chi. I believe in feng shui only about the main concept of living in harmony with the laws of the universe, which I learned in my ongoing spiritual journey.

I respect the principles of geomancy but I rely more on a positive mindset, an attitude of thanksgiving and proactively helping others to reap good karma and offset the negative ones that I've accumulated throughout my lifetimes across the centuries.

I don't believe in luck - but I believe in grace.

***

My friend asked me to fix something about his cell phone. Instead of going to Settings, I checked out the MP3 tracks. I finally got the title and the artist of a song I like.

"I'll be all right, as long as it matters, as long as you're here with me now..."

As Long As It Matters

Gin Blossoms

7:06 p.m.

I'm now in my new place: the master bedroom of a mansion. The family's dad is gone and my landlady has moved into a smaller room. For a while, their only child occupied my room before moving somewhere else. Still plastered on one wall is a poster of young Filipino matinee idol Sam Concepcion. Around me is a gallery of South Korean pop star Kim Bum. I think it may have been a girl's room. Then again, nowadays, you never know.

Boys Over Flowers

November 5, 2013

I'm not like everybody else.

"Johnny, you're weird!"

You have no idea, I thought.

"People always tell me that," I replied. "Very consistent."

The girl who told me I'm weird is a work colleague whom you might say is a member of our office's "in" crowd. She is a fashion model and really chic. With her lifestyle and a stint in Singapore, one would have thought she'd been exposed to all kinds of people, especially artistic types. I didn't disagree. But I'm sure we're seeing the same thing from entirely different perspectives.

I think "weird" is really subjective. If you ask a dozen people to explain it, you'll probably get twelve different answers. Then, those same people might think of their fellows as weird because they think differently. As for me, I show the world my true authentic self and I never harm anyone. I can't even imagine trying to be someone I'm not. If the whole world calls me a freak because I'm not like them, then it's not a reflection of my character.

I'm proud to be me.

***

"Ask Xian," I said.

I was talking to my work colleague Nick last night and the subject somehow touched on some ideas that I have thought deeply about. These are not the things I want to debate about. But I'm always intensely curious about what people think about them because it gives me a deeper insight into their characters.

We were walking towards the elevators when we saw Xian, a trainer in a call center company.

"Ask me what?" he said.

"Two things," I replied. "First: Nick says he doesn't believe that everything happens for a reason."

"I don't," said Xian.

I do. I believe there is something behind coincidences and random events. Our existence itself is a part of a plan that defies our finite minds. The best engineers can never construct something like the human eye, much less a brain.

"Second," I said without missing a beat, "he thinks that intelligence and character are the same."

We trooped inside the elevator.

"They're different," said Xian as the doors closed. "You can be smart but you may not have character. You can have character but you may not be smart. You can be witty without being intelligent, and you can be intelligent without being witty. But you can't be witty without being intelligent."

I believe that character has nothing to do with intelligence, so in a way I agree. It's just that we seem to define "character" in different ways. For him, it's about personality; for me, it's about values. I have lost count of smart people I met. But some of them are bigots, bullies, and back fighters.

I measure a person by how he treats others and by nothing else.