Our recent engagement with ISO made us conscious of quality management system. Buzz phrases are customer satisfaction and continual improvement.

That brought me to my point now.  This Internet service had been testing my patience since a month ago. On and off connection. Poor service! There were days when there was virtually no connection!

The problem was compounded by the company’s kind of responsiveness–or the lack of it. I asked my sister to call that Internet service provider for me because I was  too stressed out trying to reach it out for help. The process was too procedural. An operator service would lead you to a maze of steps, to a myriad of numbers you must enter, to no avail. The condition was that I must be in front of my computer unit so they could trouble shoot from a distance. Only then they would decide whether I am worth visiting for my antenna’s repair or something else. They have done that process many times. After a few days, the problem would ressurect again.

Point is where is customer service? Where is their responsiveness to client needs? I hope this would serve as a reminder to other service providers and subscribers. We need to get our money’s worth back. We need to get that better service our payment deserves.

Now I’m back here. At Netopia, working via the Net conscious with the metered time, but better than getting stressed out by a poor, inefficient Internet service I have trusted much to be installed right at the confines of my own home. Hope soon I’ll get a better service from a new prospective company I have heard good things about.

Just a few minutes ago, I have severed my engagement with that incompetent provider. Disconnected myself from their poor service!

Till then. Always, make smart decisions! Never to be fooled again.

Have you ever caught yourself in a conversation with which you have nothing to do? Or a conversation that hits you directly, offending you, without the other person knowing it?

It pisses me off. I would always find a chance to get out of it by saying, quite respectfully,  ”excuse me, I’ll go ahead.”

* * *

The ending of a creative telenovela that doesn’t match with the kind you have in mind also disappoints. Maybe because the story when told becomes the audience’s too. You can readily interrupt and create your own beautiful, subjective ending.

* * *

A kind of work that treats people as machine? That kills creativity? That annoys as well!

In the hierarchy of needs, that’s the highest, ultimate level: giving us the leeway, the elbow room to create without so much of the rules that stunt innovativeness.

* * *

Get angry! Rage at times! But always understand where all these are coming. Then liberate yourself from all negativities!

* * *

It is worthwhile to be happy. There’s always another day to smile and take things lightly.

If there’s one thing I have realized in the three days and a half I have spent staying at home and resting, practically doing nothing–couldn’t read, write, or stare at the computer monitor and connect to the Net–it would be that of valuing the sweetness of doing nothing. I was sick for the last three days. The symptoms made themselves felt last Wednesday right after the accreditation visit: bones aching, runny nose, was feeling weaker, and all I wanted to do then was to lie down and sleep. And so I did exactly that, gave in, succumbed to that call for me to do nothing but sleep and rest, far from all the worries and concerns of work and everything built around it.

Maybe that was a Cebu virus I had acquired or all the pressures of work previously done that had finally burst into one final act telling me: you can no longer elude this, please just let things be. For three days, sleep came without me courting it. My system simply gave in. My eyes were too watery I couldn’t  read much, despite the temptation that that book–The Happiness Project–irresistibly offered me. I just depended on TV for a few moments but that I couldn’t endure too given that such needed the attention of my eyes as well.

For three days I subsisted on fresh juice drinks–much of that calamansi, which is now in season–and fruits. I missed meetings and classes. I missed the kind of life I live almost every day in the office. I missed the social media. I missed everything that could make me normal and mainstream. But those three days made me appreciate a slow life more and more; add to it the value of a good health. The weekly massage didn’t work so well. A good sleep perfectly could. Good foods, too. I could work hard again but in moderation this time, not forgetting to pamper myself in between: with a good amount of sleep and the right combination of foods.

A wake-up call, maybe a reality check, for someone who loves his work so much and values happiness, and all those who make this possible, as well as the “good long life.”

There’s something about that lechon that made us look for it during our first day at Cebu City. This was my second time in the place but my colleagues were so intrigued about that lechon that made me crave for it too.

So after a quick tour of the city: at shrine of Magellan’s cross, La Fortuna Bakery, old churches, and Fuerto San Pedro–we asked our tour guide to bring us to that famous resto serving Cebu’s foremost delicacy. So there we landed at CnT! Does it stand for “cannot” as in “can’t resist” or “can’t help”? I can only speculate. LOL!

We ordered platefuls of lechon freshly chopped, without the sarsa we care so much about in Luzon. We couldn’t resist having plates of rice too, perfect partner for that main and only course. Softdrinks in can somehow washed out that cholesterol guilt.

The pork’s skin was crunchy; the meat meticulously cooked; but it tasted a little salty for me who is avoiding anything of that taste ever since I could remember. Maybe the salty taste is there to make the meat last long. We could have eaten much of what we had ordered if not for that conscious concern for blood pressure and other complications.

We found it so good, posted it on FB, got 100+ likes for that photo–enough for my family to ask me, persistently, to bring home some. Nice that we were able to get the number of CnT and a day before we left Cebu, we saw ourselves coordinating with the resto and placing our order ready for pickup a few hours before our flight back to Manila.

What is something about that lechon? First, it’s the place’s unique heritage: food. Second, it’s a cultural come-on. It has become a part of Cebu’s tourism business. It has become part of the place’s identity. Third, it really tastes good and it’s something you can bring back home without fear of spoilage or food poisoning. Maybe it’s in the packaging, in the kind of care they put into assuring that the food is safely delivered home, much to the delight of our family. One week after bringing a package back home, we still enjoy remnants of it: yes, it has transformed into the pinaksiw na lechon the family would love re-heating the nth times.

Once paksiw, it gains a sweet-sour blend that drastically vanishes the saltiness in it. That makes it taste like family for us who hate anything salty or anything which could increase the bp up or tire the kidney much. We now own that Cebu lechon because of that paksiw concoction that tastes so much like home.

“… polished my words until they sang.” – Marivi Soliven, The Mango Bride

Writers would always look for that perfect flow of words enough for thoughts to flow freely and gracefully. Marivi Soliven has captured it well: until her words sang. Until words sang and danced under the spell of a magical evening when all are asleep and waiting for another morning, albeit unconsciously and passively.

Words sang at the sight of things I have organized at the height of monsoon rains. Books I would want to read in between works and deadlines: Dan Brown’s Inferno, Soliven’s Mango Bride, Toni Morrison’s Burn this Book, John Green’s Looking for Alaska to name a few. They too danced at the view of all-time fave films I would want to watch again for the nth time: Proof, Life of Pi, The King’s Speech, Lost TV Series.

Truly when you buy a book you must buy time too to read it. I’m only a few chapters done with Inferno. With words unstoppable and almost riveting, I couldn’t engross myself fully onto it because of the many other things I must do. I couldn’t focus on it and make time finishing the latest Robert Langdon adventure. I can take on a few more chapters during this rainy season break and finish the rest by Christmas break. But things could be unpredictable, one day I could just lie down and without me knowing it, I could go through until its very exciting end.

John Green could wait. After The Fault in Our Stars, I suffer from that comparative malady of always looking for Hazel and Gus in every Green’s Millenial novel. LOL! Of course, Morrison has to be read seriously and consciously; Soliven has to be savored: every line beats with style and meaning and inspiration. The last two are the kind of words meticulously crafted; they already sing and dance as you flip through their pages, lulling you away from where you are.

Words sing as well as I curl up in bed, under my comforter, during this rainy hiatus re-watching Proof and Life of Pi, two films I never grow tired viewing again and again. The bulk of papers I must read and rate can wait. The world stops when the words sing.

Enjoy the rains under the cadence and grace of words and visuals singing and dancing to transport us onto worlds we never knew exist outside our own.

Martha Stewart couldn’t put it more apt.

She said putting more color to the foods that we eat makes eating healthier, reminding me of Korean cuisine. There’s a bit of yellow, of green, of white, of brown. Like kimchi. Making our foods colorful is not only fun but an attempt to make full use of earth’s bounty. It’s like celebrating a rich harvest. Like a feast.

Reason why I have experimented my own version of “eating the rainbow,” as you can see in the photos I have taken and created as collage. I didn’t consider the health value of each of these foods; my consideration was mainly to make the bunch of food look good by combining colors.

Like mango ensalada with salted eggs, fresh tomatoes, onions, with a dash of bagoong as side dish. This I have made as an appetizer for the home-made fried pork chop which was perfect for stormy, rainy days.

For dessert, I have combined sliced bananas, diced ripe mangoes, and unsweetened strawberry jam–as my own rendition of fresh fruit salad.

On days when works consume us, it wouldn’t hurt to act like an amateur cook; or, maybe just to sound like one.

Life couldn’t be better than this. Making time to prepare your own food and finding fun doing it. Then sharing the rainbow with the family.

Outside my window, the rains perform like a dance group. Perfectly synchronized. The sounds serene, the movements graceful.

What does it take for someone to be happy? To have a life?

The kind of books he reads? The kind of company he keeps? The pile of works he does?

Maybe it is in doing what he likes the most or loves the best. Maybe it is in the idle time lost in words and in making sense of the world.

Maybe it is in the moments spent doing nothing. The sweetness of doing nothing. Dolce vita!

In staring at the sun straight in the eye while it dies at dusk. In walking alone under the spell of a drizzling afternoon.

In poetry that hangs over the head like a pendulum swinging on every side of the fulcrum.

Like now. When words are woven neatly by a tired mind, strung together like precious pieces running through a common thread.

Watch the words perform: how they jump, beg for your attention, ache for release.

Watch how they arrive at a peaceful end.

Not asking for anything more.

… about things that matter much to you: not work related, not of those that matter much to others.

Write when you are drained, of the best places you have visited with people you care so much about. Write about life and the many blessings it brings — the excitement and thrill it offers from every thing it gives away, which you get and accept whole- or half-heartedly, be it material or esoteric, or even psychic.

Write when there’s so much you must do, you don’t know what to do first. Revel amid pressures; rebel against, against deadlines!

Write when you want to slow down and think about what you shall do next.

Write late at night when everyone’s asleep and you’re alone.

Write when you feel like you need a space, a breather.

Write now!

Write like there’s no tomorrow.

Write without a clear-cut end.

During stressful and preoccupied times, I have had the opportunity to be part of institutional or family activities, which entailed going out and travelling. Maybe the timing was intentional. In the heat of work and pressures of deadlines, I simply said yes or initiated myself the need to travel and be somewhere else.

These are three of these places I’d love to explore again; if time and company and money would permit.

Batis Aramin (Lucban, Quezon)

I was part of that team-building activity of my institution’s graduate school last summer. The venue was Batis Aramin at Lucban, Quezon owned by the Felicia family. The place reminded me of Villa Escudero at Tiaong, Quezon. The focal point of its services is one’s communion with nature. The place is lush, verdant. Additional features of Batis Aramin include team-building games and camp fire.

Sonya’s Garden (Tagaytay City)

I already knew the place even before we have visited it. What I was told its amenities are expensive. Until I have seen that feature from Drew Arellano featuring the place for its panaderia, where he bought his favorite cheese hopia. So one Sunday we went to hear mass at Pink Sisters, Tagaytay City, then dropped by Sonya’s Garden. It’s literally a garden with butterflies frolicking around. The place is a perfect venue for photo op. It has a wi-fi zone and when you’re lucky, you can see TV or movie personalities visiting the place too.

The food is great as well at P600 per person. The menu is healthy. Appetizers are served first, which include their freshly baked wheat bread, unlimited; lemon-mango juice with mint leaf, bottomless; and fresh garden salad, including fresh ripe mangoes and petals from flowers they themselves grow in and harvest from their garden. Main course includes salmon belly and pasta with tomato sauce. Dessert is homemade turon with fried camote. Then their famous chocolate cake and tarragon tea are served as bonus recap for the heavy, healthy meal we have just enjoyed.

Finally, the cheese hopia really tastes good, for P100/six-piece pack.

Dambana ni Padre Pio (Sto. Tomas, Batangas) 

This we visited just last week. It’s a shrine for Santo Padre Pio, the miraculous new saint famous for his stigmata and bi-location prowess. The place caught my interest because of its country style: it is adorned with everything bamboo and wood, including the church’s massive dome. Every artifact here looks like a work of art. (Visit my FB page for a complete description and narration of this place.)

I know it would be a future pilgrimage site. We would always go back to this peaceful and cool sanctuary.

We get lost in memory.  We revisit it when the opportunity crops up, or when an event triggers its images to come back.

Memory, they say, is the gratitude of the heart. It is never dead, so says Pulitzer Prize-winning author [moi's ultimate favorite!] Rick Bragg.

Some look back, browse through the photos again, read the lines, dwell on the stories, remember all that could resurrect the past anew: everything about the lives we have known and the moments we have spent and shared.

Lots of ways to go back home to the past. But I would rather enter the Bamboo House again.

Ms. Delos Santos was there trying to stay cool amid all the confused faces of kids, some sounding off begging for attention. I forgot to bring a pad of paper and a pencil. Lucky that one parent who knew me lent me some of those things I needed. I was teary-eyed.

That was my first day at Canossa Academy. I was a bit excited and afraid. Met new kids but missed home. [Only now I could realize how a child could be so frightened leaving home so as to discover a new place, which would turn out to be his school for the next seven years. Now I could label that fear: separation anxiety.]

That day ended still surprised and expectant of what would happen the next few days, and the remaining days of my entire elementary life.

This memory came back with the recent celebration of our Silver Anniversary as Canossa graduates. Twenty-five years didn’t blur the memory. The gift of memory is something all Canossians can boast off. The past is never dead.

If the past is always alive waiting to be triggered to come back to life, then the faces of the people we have met before would forever be etched in our minds. That was proven by that Batch 1984/1988 reunion. The distance of time didn’t affect our memory house. We could still remember the Bamboo House, with or without Ms. Delos Santos and the good sisters of Canossa.

We would always come back to it. Visiting the past is a healthy exercise. You come to terms with who you really are. To an extent it is reliving, or putting a closure to something left hanging, un-ending.

Many would recall the stories, browse through the photo album again, wipe off the dust from artifacts, reminisce. But moi, I would always return to the Bamboo House, where the story had all begun.

It will never be dead. It is always there.

*Inspired by Rick Bragg’s “My Time Machine,” May 30, 2013, The Daily South