NYE
JUST edited –words in brackets– the short messages sent to me for the new year. Some are cute, some pinch the heart. To the senders who I want to remain anonymous here, thanks.
But here’s one that I got from an editor of the The Manila Times who ushered me into the roller-coaster ride of journalism, and to whom I’ll be forever grateful. No regrets, dear friend: “These have been trying times, friends. Here's to hoping we will have the courage to endure another year and come out ahead with our values intact. Venceremos!”
• “The biggest blessing in our lives is simply [the] presence of people who care much, whose love is for real, [and] see us much beyond ourselves. May God continually bless you and your family with long life, good health, great provisions, peace [and] contentment! Happy New Year!”
• “SHALOM is a Hebrew greeting which means that the one who greets you is asking God to bestow upon you All the good things He could possibly think of: good health, joy, success, abundance, safety, love ....Shalom to you. Happy New Year!”
• “I thank God [for] all the people who are part [and] touched my life this year 2009. Friendship made my life more meaningful. Thank you so much [for] being a Friend! Happy New year [and] may 2010 [usher] more success in all [aspects] of [your] life. Ü”
• “Time & things don't really last. What matters most are the people we care about [and] the values we dare to live [and] share. Let life be as beautiful as your heart. Merry Christmas and Happy new year”
• “We [don’t] have everything to enjoy life, but we have life to enjoy everything. Always choose to see the nice things. Life is happier that way. Happy New Year!”
• “Tell GOD [your] 3P's: P-roblems, P-ressures and P-lans & HE will give You HIS ABC's! A-nswers to prayers, B-est favors & C-ourage to go on! GOD BLESS! GOOD VIBES! …HAPPY 2010!
• “In facing life [this coming] year, let's [always] cling to God [and] dwell on His promises...Let's be like [the] finest bamboo; bending but not breaking... God Bless!”
• “May you [and] your family be blessed in 2010 [with] all that you wish for, all that you really need & all that you can share to others. Happy New Year! God bless always.”
• “Happy new year! Enjoy [the] media noche [later] w/ [your] family [and] loved ones. [Take care and] God bless! Ü”
• “H :-D A :-D P :-D P :-D Y :-D N :-D E :-D W :-D :-D Y :-D E :-D A :-D R :-D :-) GOD BLESS :-)”
• “Sana ay ngumiti ang bulsa mo sa dinero, lumaki ang wallet mo gaya [nang] bank vault at ulanan ka ng tseke na di talbog. [Happy] new year!”
• “To all friends who sent me love, luck [and] best wishes for 2008.....It didn’t help, :-( Please Send CASH for [2010]! ;-) Mwahahaha! Happy new year!”
Dumb
SOME Filipino smokers like me are as dumb as their counterparts in the United States, so says a Reader's Digest magazine survey to be published in February.
We're dumb because we took up the habit; dumber because now, like me, I can't seem to break it.
The dumbest part is that some of us who make tobacco czars wealthy think the vice can make them slim, as the survey reveals.
According to a press release about the survey, "smoking to suppress appetite is recognized as a foolish trade-off throughout the world, but the habit persists anyway, particularly in the Philippines, China, Mexico, and, strikingly, Russia."
The survey revealed that 23 percent of Russian men and 18 percent of women admit to smoking cigarettes in order to lose weight.
They may have thought: why not puff away the fat?
There's a slim chance that would happen as I haven't read any research that scientifically proves smoking leads to voluptousness.
But I may agree that fat may be the first thing we lose six feet under the ground; bones, hair, and teeth being the last, according to a friend who owns a funeral home and a certified embalmer.
While the survey isn't about smoking and is more about dieting, the results for the Philippines reveal the key factor on why I and some of us can't kick the habit despite the health warnings.
Willpower, that's the key.
Reader's Digest commends us for the honesty of Filipinos, or at least the respondents of the survey.
"A full 95 percent of Filipinos say they enjoy good food, and 82 percent admit to simply not having the willpower to resist it. Indeed, only 38 percent have even tried to lose weight."
While there's such a thing as excessive eating, or gluttony as some would call it, there's no such thing as too much smoking. Nicotine addiction is still addiction; smoking is excessive in itself.
I didn't take up smoking because I wanted to lose weight. I got hooked, nay, addicted to nicotine when I took my first puff at 16, while still at secondary school.
I admit I was afraid to stop because some literature says I will gain weight. And I don't think I'd like myself looking old and fat.
And according to the survey, the Philippines and Germany share the pervasive "notion that excess pounds can leave you wedged into a dead end in the office."
It is in India, however, were the notion of being "overweight can "seriously interfere" with career advancement."
The survey said that "41 percent of dieters there say they were motivated by a desire to be promotable."
"And this is one of the few instances where men (52 percent) feel greater pressure to trim down than women (31 percent)."
This is not a diatribe to justify what I consider a costly and deadly habit that I have long been planning to stop, especially for the sake of my daughters.
Hopefully, after this post, I can go cold turkey.
I think my daughters will like better a fat but healthy and strong-willed father than a sexy ashtray-breath and lung cancer-riddled one better.
Read(emption)
I’M coming out of holiday lethargy but I still pinch myself to realize vacation’s over.
I think this usually happens after throwing, along with caution to the wind, all thoughts of work and plunge into a looong vacation with people enjoyable to spend time with.
My hiatus from writing began Christmas eve, and didn’t end until after last year’s alcohol vaporized from my breath.
I realized something was wrong when I sat in front of an LCD screen and froze. My brain ultimately failed to send signals to my fingers.
Writer’s block –in this case, reporter’s rustiness– has set in. Even attempting to blog failed to stir up the Anne Frank in me.
I realized it was going to be one of those days when a journalist stops from what he or she does best and gets bested in the process.
I recalled the time when I was working for the defunct Today newspaper when colleague VG and I vied for who can churn out the most stories in a day. He won with five, a record we both failed to trump up for five years.
My second biggest fear –the first is getting my hands chopped– roared its head: the inability to write.
So I dug out the reliable formula: read, walk and talk.
I returned to Michael Connelly’s Crime Beat, a collection of stories from his days as a reporter for the LA Times before penning several best-selling fiction novels.
I tried to finish Nutcracker by 40-year writer and journalist for Life magazine Shana Alexander about the murder of Mormon and multi-millionaire Franklin Bradshaw. Halfway there.
Both books, though published years ago, became the anvil where the first sparks of inspiration flew.
Connelly’s incisive crime reportage stoked the reason why I chose journalism as a career. Alexander’s narrative of spending Sundays with fellow journalists reminded me how colleagues in the industry like VG, Arnold, and Boojie has helped nurture the profession.
As I read, I jotted down sentences that jump out from the pages.
I thumbed through a pocket dictionary to find meaning of words these authors intimated to me.
By the end of the first week after the new year began every sunrise was a cause for celebration. I was alive again: ready to pound the streets, to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable” as journalist Finley Peter Dunne was credited to have said.
Halfway there.
Nonetheless, reading has proven once more its redeeming role in a journalist’s life.
I think this usually happens after throwing, along with caution to the wind, all thoughts of work and plunge into a looong vacation with people enjoyable to spend time with.
My hiatus from writing began Christmas eve, and didn’t end until after last year’s alcohol vaporized from my breath.
I realized something was wrong when I sat in front of an LCD screen and froze. My brain ultimately failed to send signals to my fingers.
Writer’s block –in this case, reporter’s rustiness– has set in. Even attempting to blog failed to stir up the Anne Frank in me.
I realized it was going to be one of those days when a journalist stops from what he or she does best and gets bested in the process.
I recalled the time when I was working for the defunct Today newspaper when colleague VG and I vied for who can churn out the most stories in a day. He won with five, a record we both failed to trump up for five years.
My second biggest fear –the first is getting my hands chopped– roared its head: the inability to write.
So I dug out the reliable formula: read, walk and talk.
I returned to Michael Connelly’s Crime Beat, a collection of stories from his days as a reporter for the LA Times before penning several best-selling fiction novels.
I tried to finish Nutcracker by 40-year writer and journalist for Life magazine Shana Alexander about the murder of Mormon and multi-millionaire Franklin Bradshaw. Halfway there.
Both books, though published years ago, became the anvil where the first sparks of inspiration flew.
Connelly’s incisive crime reportage stoked the reason why I chose journalism as a career. Alexander’s narrative of spending Sundays with fellow journalists reminded me how colleagues in the industry like VG, Arnold, and Boojie has helped nurture the profession.
As I read, I jotted down sentences that jump out from the pages.
I thumbed through a pocket dictionary to find meaning of words these authors intimated to me.
By the end of the first week after the new year began every sunrise was a cause for celebration. I was alive again: ready to pound the streets, to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable” as journalist Finley Peter Dunne was credited to have said.
Halfway there.
Nonetheless, reading has proven once more its redeeming role in a journalist’s life.
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