tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382401825107402302024-03-13T20:14:11.301+08:00The Stay at Home DadMusings of a stay-at-home father on fatherhood, his journey, the world and anything in between.Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-60539556387480963402016-03-18T09:56:00.000+08:002016-03-20T22:46:31.562+08:00Hope<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For the last
several days, my strength has been drained by folks who are without hope and because they have none, choose to see the bad side of things. I nearly lost myself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They have,
in my opinion, a different definition of hope. Maybe because this world has
always accepted hope as wish or as some spell you speak to keep the bad at bay.
Sad with this sort of view is that bad remains the focus and where you focus is where you will soon find yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A good
friend once gave me this quote: <i>it is so
difficult to soar like an eagle if you are surrounded by turkeys.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Hence a promise to myself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If I
walk out in the middle of your angry discourse, it has nothing to do with bad manners
but proper choices. If I am silent over your concern things <i><b>might
go bad</b></i>, on my side of the fence <i>might go
bad</i> does not exist. <b><i>Will be good</i></b>, however, forever blooms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Life is too
short to be spent on things that will break the heart. And because of that, true living becomes a quest
for all that is good in spite of. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Indeed, being alive is about hope and hope, I believe, <b><i>is </i></b>the confident expectation of good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Thank you Alex, Mike, Anthony and Armin for helping me gain my bearing. </span></div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-58094170475098702272016-03-12T11:28:00.000+08:002016-03-12T11:28:23.547+08:00Home School is... (A guest post by Mikaela Angelika G. Jaluag)<br />
<br />
Catholic Filipino Academy Homeschooling for me is priceless!<br />
<br />
I have learned a lot of great and amazing things here. Who said we homeschoolers do not have any socialization practices? Well you got it all wrong and this <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ueE5FfHDh8o&feature=share" target="_blank"><i><b>video </b></i></a>speaks for itself.<br />
<br />
These are our weekly interactions, our Wednesday Classes, our weekly fun-time bonding. We really enjoy every second, minute, hour that we are together for here we have fun while learning. Here we have our academic lessons, interactions, field trips, recollections, retreats, outreach programs, camping, educational-formative talks and a whole lot more. We homeschoolers, enjoy what every student in a big school gets to enjoy. Maybe even more.<br />
<br />
So whenever class is suspended, unlike regular school students, we feel really bad missing and failing to attend this weekly date. Class suspension is, for me, missing the one day that gives us real joy.<br />
<br />
There were pressures and challenges too, YES! But thanks to our parent-advisers, teachers and our parents for being with us in this wonderful journey. Through their love, support, motivation and patience we learned to work as a team and, importantly, as a family.<br />
<br />
Timid as I was before, I have learned to explore new things here; my love for God, my family, my friends and my talents as well. How to be independent and responsible is one big move for me, too. As a homeschooler, we are taught how to be good leaders and successful entrepreneurs. My school have very warm, friendly and spiritually-motivated staffs, parent-advisers, everyone making you feel welcome and accepted. So come on and join our team of homeschoolers and be part of it. I promise you, not only will you learn a lot, you will be having a whole lot of fun.<br />
<br />
Credits to Tito Bo Sanchez. You are not only a genius but a blessing to us and our parents for putting up the first Catholic Homeschool provider here in our country. Not only did you help mold us spiritually with your very uplifting words, you also helped us realize that there is much more to learning, that education can be fun too! Thank you for making homeschooling a fun way to learn.<br />
<br />
Homeschooling is truly A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-24072755624501719972016-03-04T10:13:00.000+08:002016-03-08T13:46:37.913+08:00Ancients<div class="MsoNormal">
…. is how the world prefers to see and label late 50’s like
me. And nowhere else this rings the loudest than in my chosen sport. For many,
I am too old to be riding those roots and ruts and drops on my mountain bike that
me and Carmella lovingly calls Tracy. Yes, for many, I am ancient.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But is it I and the ones like me who are ancient? If the
view comes from they who believe I should be counted among those who limit
their life adventures to morning walks inside the <i>Manila Memorial Park, </i>followed by round (or square) table discussion of current events from the free newspaper
they get for having breakfast at <i>McDonald’s</i>, then ancient belongs to them. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Me and my ilk would rather see our limits, hear our
breathing, and define for ourselves how brave is brave. We would rather live
our life and live it to the fullest. We would rather mount that bike and ride that dangerously off-cambered path leading to the trail head, pedal like
crazy up that cursed uphill, leaning your bike towards to that tight single
track turn, in the attack position every time.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh yes, we are ordinary mortals. Like the Manila Memorial Park
Morning Walkers Inc., we do round (or rectangle) table discussions. In <i><b>Bebe’s </b></i>along Victoria
Avenue, we talk about our steeds, not to boast about our treasure for that
belongs to the poseur more than the mountain biker, but anything that
levels you up from the ordinary is always hot topic and worth discussing.</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
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And so we ride. Like Dan and Demjur who are also in their late 50’s, we ride. For no experience reminds us we are alive better than being on
our bikes and hitting the trails. <i><b>Clip in!</b></i></div>
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Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-26475023027101798862015-11-30T19:53:00.000+08:002015-11-30T23:57:33.647+08:00The Miracle of the Spicy Beef Noodles<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe it’s midlife crisis, though I am well over that. Return
to childhood? Perhaps.</div>
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<br /></div>
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At the beginning, it was just my Epiphone acoustic guitar needing
a preamp. With its passive pickup, the sound just does not come up well even when
plugged in an amplifier. It genuinely needs pre amplification. The best value
for money I saw was an <a href="http://www.music-group.com/Categories/Behringer/Guitar/Guitar-Stompboxes/ADI21/p/P0293" target="_blank">ADI 21</a> by Behringer. It’s an Acoustic Amp Modeler/Direct
Recording Preamp/Direct Injection Box all rolled into one. It’s what I need. </div>
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And then I saw Mike’s <a href="http://www.voxamps.com/amplug2" target="_blank">amPlug2</a> from VOX. It’s what he uses
when practicing with his bass. I thought it would be a better choice, being
small and can easily fit into one’s pocket. When I told him about it, we both
got excited and I was already making plans of getting one the following weekend.</div>
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But the weekend seems so far out into the future. Sooner than I imagine, I found
myself at Audiophile in Alabang ready to purchase my very own amPlug, only to
find out the model I was after was not available. Undaunted, I continued on to other shops to check if they carry what I wanted. No joy in that. In fact the other music stores I visited never heard of an amPlug. I wonder why
they remain open.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It took several days for my frustration to ebb. But as if that
agony was not enough, I was also scouring the net for a guitar that would fit
the amPlug I was planning to buy.<a href="http://www.dd-customguitars.com/products-page/2014-series/supremo-natural" target="_blank"> Supremo Natural</a> from D&D Custom Guitars
looks the business. To think I only wanted a preamp for my Epiphone, now I
am planning to buy a whole different set of caboodle. I really went crazy last week. </div>
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And then this mid day encounter with <a href="http://www.lukyuen.com.ph/menu3.php" target="_blank">Luk Yuen’s Spicy Beef Noodles</a>. Yes, this fire starter of a noodle soup can shake one out of his
reverie. A few sip of this potent reddish concoction can bring one back to reality, as it did to me. Am happy to report that I am now a hundred percent back to my senses. </div>
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<br /></div>
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You see, what I have is an acoustic guitar. It does not need a mini amp but an honest to goodness acoustic amplifier, if my intention is to
cause havoc in our complex or to perform in venues like the SM Arena. On its
own it is already loud. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Mike’s bass guitar, on the other hand, needs an amplifier. The
only means to avoid a neighborhood uprising during his solo practice is to use
an amPlug connected to an earphone.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I never imagined things will go out of proportion. I am so
relieved I came out of this maelstrom without any purchase for if I did, it will, for a
long time, remind me I am several thousands of pesos poorer because I allowed
my brain to take a holiday.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Midlife crisis? Nah, something more bewildering. </div>
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Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-86231733407479334182015-11-20T15:56:00.000+08:002015-11-20T15:56:21.848+08:00Champions<div class="MsoNormal">
Last Sunday, my friend Harry entered his very first multisport
event. A milestone for him since it was also at the inaugural event of the
Power Man Duathlon Pilipinas which some say is more difficult than the Iron Man
series. There is no better way to launch one’s self into multisport, if you ask
me. If I have to aim for a goal, I will aim for the highest. Harry did.<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
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He started the arduous journey into becoming an
international level athlete just a month and a half prior to the event. He was never
a runner when decided to join. He literally started from scratch and he persevered.</div>
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He finished the 10km run/60km bike/10km run in 4 hours and
13 minutes. He placed 12<sup>th</sup> in his age category and 74<sup>th</sup>
overall. We all were over the moon when he crossed the finish line. It was an awesome victory for him and for all of us who supported him.
His mentor and coach Val Arciaga was very satisfied with the performance of his
mentee. August Benedicto, a 3 time Cobra Iron Man Elite Champion and who grew
up with Coach Val, was so impressed with Harry’s time. According to him, 4
hours and 13 minutes for a rookie is beyond expectation. Coming from a
champion, his words lifts all of us. <br />
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<span id="goog_1333692225"></span><span id="goog_1333692226"></span><br /></div>
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But it was not all cheers that met Harry on his road to victory.
During the pre-race briefing the night before, members of the organizing team
were very vocal with their opinion that this race belongs to those who have
several multisport races under their belt, trivializing those who have none. I
am not sure if it was their idea of branding. </div>
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<br /></div>
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And the week before, a lady owner of a multisport shop in
Sta. Rosa was sardonic when she learned Harry was joining the inaugural event. Faith
in the human spirit, it seems, have been replaced by cynicism and an elitist attitude
appears to have owned this sport.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Coach Val told me the 11 who finished before Harry in
his age category have been in multisport for years. Harry making it to the same
level as these athletes in less than 2 months from square one is greater than
amazing.</div>
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<br /></div>
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On the drive back to Manila, Harry’s exemplary effort made
me look at my own goals and my current state of sustained indolence. For so
long now I have excused myself from doing two things I love: writing and
biking. I describe it as being in the doldrums but in reality, is one among those
silly excuses I have collected as a way of explaining myself in case somebody
asks. I really need to get back my flow. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Like Harry, I need to push myself and aim for the
highest. I need to listen to that voice that, in spite of the pain, urges
me to watch my breathing, my cadence, my stride. Like Harry, I need to follow
through even if it means having to do that lung-busting uphill stretch over and over. Like Harry, when the going gets tough, I need to whistle with my coach
as we climb Southpeak in San Pedro, to take my mind off my labor. Like
Harry, I need to believe I am good and that all will be well. </div>
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<br /></div>
Thanks for that one, Harry! And once again, congratulations
brother!<br />
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<br />Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-63160651193563452152015-08-07T09:22:00.002+08:002015-08-07T09:22:51.970+08:00The Day I Lost My Song<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She was God’s greatest gift to me. She was my joy. She completed
me in so many ways. She was my strength. She was my dream fulfilled. Viewed
from the eyes of my heart, she is God’s best creation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last February, this wonderful gift named Cecille went home
to the One who loves her even more. Fighting cancer to the very end, her Maker and
Lord finally told her to stop. She fought a good fight, she finished her race,
and she had kept the faith. Her battle was finally won.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love to write and the real spirit behind my writing has always
been Cecille. She saw my gift, was so proud of it and always believed it was
given for a higher purpose. When my story reserves are low, she was there to
launch me. She keeps me in tune. She is the best.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cecille was the music on which I weave the words of my poetry.
That music, which hums all that is good, has now stopped. Last February 23,
2015, I lost my song. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I miss her. I miss her laughter. I miss her hugs. I miss her
cooking. I miss being in love with my true love. Now I struggle to find my
voice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But sing I must. Even with cracked voice I will sing. She
may no longer be here to remind me of my gift, how proud she is, and what I
have is for a higher purpose. She may no longer be here to keep me in tune or
stir me to carry on. But she will always be my song. Her love and the universe that her beautiful love brought forth will always be my theme. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While there will be echoes that will remind me of the void
in my heart, I will continue singing my best. The melody that will waft and
fill this vast empty space will be the continuing story of a love that will
never leave, a love that will never cease. </span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>I love you, babe! Forever here, forever here!</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-49858563751852549092014-08-19T15:57:00.000+08:002014-08-19T15:57:37.963+08:00Value Added<div class="MsoNormal">
I agree with my preacher.
For him, one of the best places to experience real service is at a five-star hotel. You do not have to book a stay, just ask where the men’s room
is (or the ladies room, for that matter) and expect to be escorted to your
purpose. They do not merely point the way, they lead the way.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would like to add that there are supermarkets staffs, rare they maybe, with the same 5-star attitude. I am not only pointed to the aisle where
the dried Kafir lime leaves are but am actually led to them. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I love being treated this way. It makes me feel like
royalty. It feels good to be seen as a person and not merely a number or a
prospect.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sadly, this type of thinking is grossly missing in most businesses
these days. The focus is at ramming as much and as many products as possible,
needed or otherwise, down the customer’s throat. No time for relationships, no
time for connection, nothing personal only business. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lucky for mountain bikers like me, there is one company that
believes on seeing their customers as persons. Not only did they pioneer a
product that will allow mortals like me enjoy the benefits of a mechanical
upgrade only the mega rich can afford, they went further by investing on
engineering research aimed at addressing issues that comes with innovation. They
led the effort. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is rare for a company to develop a well engineered add-on
to improve the performance of an already good product and then included it as a
freebie in their subsequent deliveries. More than good, now the user has
something better. And never wanting to ignore early adapters, they offer the add-on at prices nearly half their competition. As Stitch would say, <i>“No one gets left behind.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Importantly, they welcome technical opinion from people keen
on elevating the sport, whether they buy from their catalog or not.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This practice creates one important impression: the customer
is king. It makes the loudest marketing noise and fosters brand loyalty. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seth Godin once issued a challenge:<i> rather than find people
who will buy your product, find products people will buy</i>. One company rose to the challenge.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What makes me brave the trails more than personal skills are
the parts I chose to install. Knowing fully well heart and foresight was
involved in developing my equipment, I climb that hill with confidence. I
know things will never fall apart, thanks greatly to that company who never saw
me as a number but as king.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e5tMV5-u7fU/U_L7zIJf8bI/AAAAAAAAFjo/9GVhLjllGCY/s1600/logo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e5tMV5-u7fU/U_L7zIJf8bI/AAAAAAAAFjo/9GVhLjllGCY/s1600/logo.png" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-77374861958013096532014-08-04T14:58:00.001+08:002014-08-04T15:05:04.765+08:00To Find Joy in Incompleteness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The moment I learned about it I started losing sleep. It was
definitely a level up. It might not be an <i>Iphone5s
</i>like the one it replaced but the freedom that comes with a smart phone is,
for this bumpkin, mind boggling. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My current <i>Samsung </i>is
a far cry. With its temperamental keyboard that sometimes require severe
pounding before it displays an “a”, its minuscule screen, the overly low
resolution camera, and its WiFi un-readiness, I am in need of change. Yes, this
one coming is definitely something to be excited about.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And an <i>IPhone</i>, no
matter if it is only a hand me down <i>IPhone4</i>,
carries with it some bragging rights. I would like to believe this last one was
the main reason for my lack of sleep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KwX1BwEPC5c/U98bCvQw5II/AAAAAAAAEtA/oXh94IwKEO0/s1600/WIN_20140612_124206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KwX1BwEPC5c/U98bCvQw5II/AAAAAAAAEtA/oXh94IwKEO0/s1600/WIN_20140612_124206.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alas, the road to happiness can sometimes be gutted with
slippery roots and deep ruts. As we later discovered, this model needs to be
factory unlocked before it can be used for other networks. Here in the Philippines
it meant responding to an $85 question. The reason for the hand me down was I
have no $85. If I had, I would have bought myself a brand new android phablet
from Starmobile. Immediately.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went from asking the shops inside the Alabang Town Center
in Muntinlupa, to Trinity in Baguio City and then finally a friend in San
Fernando in the province of La Union. Desperation brings you places. But no joy
at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks to the wisdom I acquired from being friends with my
mountain bike mate Alex, I looked beyond what I cannot have and examined
closely this gadget in my hands. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It may not be able send text messages but my “new” <i>IPhone4 </i>allows me unlimited information exchange with Alex without going through the trouble of searching
which Globe promo on unlimited texting to all networks is currently available
to prepaid users. I can even send pictures or call him from anywhere in the
world free of charge. <i>Viber </i>is heaven
sent, I tell you.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And since my netbook is currently taking ages to load Windows
(it shamelessly accuses me of using counterfeit programs), with this <i>Iphone4 </i>I receive alerts of new messages
in my inbox instantly. No boot up misery hence no 3-day waiting period before
being able to access my email.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few months ago, Cecille treated us for a vacation in Macau
and Hong Kong. All the great things we saw and experienced were fully covered
by this wonderful thing called <i>IPhone4</i>.
I may not be looking as cool as the next tourist with his latest Nikon
or Canon but man, I was able to take
pictures of all the food we came to seek (then mercilessly devoured) without
being obvious. Some restaurants demand you eat their food not make fashion
models out of them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now my friends know what a pork chop sandwich looks like. Or the two ways to put down a roasted duck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And yes, posting updates on Facebook can never be simpler.
No more lugging my netbook to do that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had so much fun I am having second thoughts
about getting it opened to be used on the local networks. I
believe there is severe injustice in the statement “<i>Ate</i>, please load my <i>IPhone4 </i>P50
worth of prepaid credits." Sadly, I will be forced to speak this language once it is made ready to receive a Globe prepaid SIM. If I can, I would like to avoid that route, non bragging rights notwithstanding.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On a more serious note, more important than enjoying it, it’s what I learned
along the way that stands out: <i>impressions are only skin
deep, true value is much deeper</i>. Rightly so. What is profoundly important is not immediately obvious.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes the bragging rights may be absent but I have yet to find
something man made, after my bike Efcie, which will give me so much joy in its
incompleteness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-19353707948532749052014-07-09T12:28:00.000+08:002014-07-09T16:40:42.625+08:00The Other Side of Rude<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xtw9M3SJgEo/U7y-uzwcFiI/AAAAAAAAB8k/0BuJ_AmZ-P0/s1600/IMG_1221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xtw9M3SJgEo/U7y-uzwcFiI/AAAAAAAAB8k/0BuJ_AmZ-P0/s1600/IMG_1221.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We visited both Macau and <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place>
recently. Posting our trip on social media, several comments came up all warning
me of the “rude” I am to expect in <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Somehow, Filipinos found as reason the huge number of
Filipina domestics employed in that place to equate rude with racism. While
“rude” may be true, the view it is racism prompts me to write this
entry.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have had my share of “rude” in that place. I have been
visiting <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place> for many years and “rude”
is something I learned to live with. My sister, who spent a good number of
years working as logistics specialist of a semiconductor company before moving
to the <st1:place w:st="on">United States</st1:place>,
who faced “rude” almost on a daily basis, admits it is a part of the native’s
psyche. But is it fundamentally racist? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place>’s MTR for
its efficiency. But what amazes is the speed of their
moving staircases or what we Filipinos call escalators. Man, they are fast! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, there is a certain decorum one needs to observe
when using them. While they are fast, there are people who needs faster. Those
perfectly happy with the pace of these high speed people movers must keep right
to allow those who are in much hurry to pass.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On my continued visits to Hong Kong, these fast moving
staircases helped explain the “rude”, this nation’s progress and why among its
neighbors it remains preferred by many as location of their centers for
business in this part of <st1:place w:st="on">Asia</st1:place>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why the lingering perception of the “rude” by many Filipinos
all over when talking about <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place>?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Filipinos loved being waited on. Take Jollibee. I find it irritating
that after waiting in line for sometime, upon reaching the cashier many are
still undecided on what to order. So they carry on with their “food conference”
unmindful of the people, equally if not hungrier than they are, waiting for
them to finalize their plans. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place>, they expect that
you have fully decided and ready to commit once you are at the counter. They
expect that you have identified what you truly want before you order. They
expect that you do not to waste their time and those waiting to be
served. They expect you not to join the
queue if what you want is still a figment of your imagination. If you behave
otherwise, expect to get the “rude.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not only on food joints, businessmen friends as well as an
acquaintance from one embassy told me the same practice happens even at high
levels of exchange. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, they all expect you not to interrupt their business
because there are those truly deserving waiting to benefit. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As well, we Filipinos believe on runaway entitlement. On our flight back, a <i>kababayan</i>
across the aisle from me insisted on playing his laser sword game in his smart phone
at full volume, perhaps to drown the sound of the plane’s engine. He completely ignored fellow Filipinos around him who prefer to sleep through a 3 hour flight. Like me. The
hum of those Rolls Royce engine is already a struggle for the tired and weary
wanting to rest without his noisy game adding to the din. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oblivious is what many of us has become. We have forgotten
there are others sharing our space and has equal privilege to it. When we violate
this, others are within their right if they choose to give us the “rude.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It may perhaps console those who have fleeting visits in <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place> that this treatment is not limited to
Filipinos. I have seen folks from Mainland <st1:country-region w:st="on">China</st1:country-region> being told off loudly for
barging the line because they find the end of the queue beyond sight. We have
witnessed yelling between the manager and a local inside a cozy pizza place
along <st1:street w:st="on">Granville Road</st1:street>,
something that will never happen inside California Pizza Kitchen back here. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Surprisingly, in spite of the “rude” people still flock to <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place>. Many had seen what this “rude”
really meant and with it understood the astounding progress that engulfs them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Am I going back to <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place>?
Yes.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For one, they have great biking tracks in that little island that I must
try. As for the “rude”, it is a comeuppance. People there do not bother you if
you do not bother them. For someone coming from a place where people bother you for reasons only they understand, <st1:place w:st="on">Hong Kong</st1:place>’s reason
for the “rude” is much more transparent. It is, for this student of efficiency,
something he can happily live with. </div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-78934898559831532172014-05-08T23:41:00.001+08:002014-05-08T23:41:36.461+08:00The Other LadyThis is going to be tough but it has to be said. I hope it stops the anguish. I want to finally be at peace.<br />
<br />
The on going telenovela “The Legal Wife” has opened a can of worms. The over dinner exchange between Cecille and Carmella regarding the Monica-Adrian matrimonial discord brought about by the unwanted presence of another woman causes me severe discomfort. My insides feel as if they are in a knot. Dinner, once festive occasions, has become my silent agony whenever this TV drama is mentioned. Guilt.<br />
<br />
She is the quiet one, always wanting to remain unnoticed. She is not into attracting attention onto herself even when her breeding is so upper class. She chooses to blend rather than standout. <br />
<br />
When I first met her several years ago inside La Vista Village along Katipunan, she was already looking exemplary fit, well proportioned, light on her toes, the ballerina, the perfect athlete. She remains that way to this very day. Every man's dream.<br />
<br />
Graceful that she is, she can also be one of the boys if the occasion calls it. She does not mind going down and get real dirty with me if it means achieving a goal or having fun. Not so many ladies can be as indulgent.<br />
<br />
She is the uber supportive. With her, I am not afraid to keep trying. There were times when I fail miserably, like on most first attempts to conquer challenges tossed our way, but she endures and stays with me until I achieve full victory, until I better myself. She is loyalty defined, the perfect companion.<br />
<br />
But what endears her to me most is her sense of self. She is not interested in keeping up with other ladies because she knows what truly defines her. She was created unique yet never high maintenance, patiently waiting for what I can afford to give. The perfect.<br />
<br />
Very close friends know how much this lady means to me. They know the excitement and the joy she constantly brings. They know how she made me braver than brave. They know how she helped me breathe when illness in the family was beginning to rid me of hope. They know our intimacy. They understand and are sympathetic, even condoning. <br />
<br />
But my chest is on the verge of bursting and my heart threatens to break into pieces. This secret cannot keep on fearing the light of day. Cecille, the woman I promised to spend the rest of my life with, the one I married and mother to my beautiful Carmella, has to know.<br />
<br />
Last Saturday, while we were sitting at the table for after dinner coffee, I summoned all the courage and told her what, for years, I kept hidden. Full of remorse, my eyes dare not meet hers, I told her I have another lady. Trying to remain calm but her voice starting to crack, asked what her name is.<br />
<br />
And so I told her.<br />
<br />
She begun shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes welling up and her face turning red. She nearly fell from her chair.<br />
<br />
Laughing.<br />
<br />
I hate you, Channel 2!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X46LNtQGpOA/U2uggauH01I/AAAAAAAAA1U/udJ8P7jZqes/s1600/1525041_10152096814209133_1432013928_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X46LNtQGpOA/U2uggauH01I/AAAAAAAAA1U/udJ8P7jZqes/s1600/1525041_10152096814209133_1432013928_n.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">The "Other Lady", Efcie, and me on a date somewhere in Benguet</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
.Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-35320706707252283802014-03-17T19:39:00.000+08:002014-03-17T19:39:20.395+08:00Complicated<div class="MsoNormal">
Too often, instead of just plain enjoying it, we tend to put
in so many conditions on our sense of joy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Take for example my recent purchase. But before that, allow
me to digress a bit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I long wanted a French press. Sadly, the good ones cost an
arm and a leg. Check Starbucks' and know what I mean. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CDVW3cWtcaE/UybdAQD6aaI/AAAAAAAAAyM/BC2RVYq-QSQ/s1600/coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CDVW3cWtcaE/UybdAQD6aaI/AAAAAAAAAyM/BC2RVYq-QSQ/s1600/coffee.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p>Then a dentist friend gave me 2 bags of ground produced by a coffee
cooperative in Sulu. While I was over the moon with it, it has also compounded
my problem; the want now becoming a need.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Desperation supposedly brings out genius but not this time.
I tried boiling it at first. In spite my best effort to sieve it, bits of
ground coffee still found its way into my cup dashing all hopes of true coffee
bliss. Coffee should be sipped not chewed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My good God had seen my struggle and in one supermarket
instant, I was led to this shelf where I found my hope. A French press costing
a scandalous 150 Philippine pesos. OK it's not a Bialetti or a Bodum or
Freiling or a Grosche but it does work. Besides, who says I need to pawn my
house to be in coffee paradise? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Posting on Facebook this new found joy, it elicited a lot of
responses. Two stood out. The first was from a cousin who promised me an Ecuadorean, (a Perla Negra or a <st1:city w:st="on">Zamora</st1:city> would be nice) the next time, whenever
that next time is. I just took it as she
is married to an Ecuadorean, hence the promise of something special from that part of Spanish speaking America.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other one is from a friend who wants to know what blend
is it that I pressed: Arabusta, <st1:city w:st="on">Mayaguez</st1:city>,
Hawaiian Kona, Java, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Blue</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Mountain</st1:placetype></st1:place>, Caturra, etc..
I do not know if he was just being high falutin or serious but it made me ask
“why?” followed by “who cares?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A lot of us tend to make too much ado over nothing. We
complicate our joy. We subject our happiness to so many rules. We stress
ourselves out because we need to have that perfect, in my case coffee,
experience. But perfect only makes joy fragile. Joy should liberate. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so I sip this unknown blend from the South. I do not
know what is exactly in it but one thing I am sure of, this is joy.</div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-5372485334938291192013-11-19T09:57:00.000+08:002014-03-17T19:39:58.887+08:00The Man In The Mirror<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These days, when I look at myself in the mirror I see
someone I regularly saw on television eons ago: Droopy Dog. Before you get me
wrong, this piece is not by any means an essay on self flagellation nor an attempt
to elevate false humility. There are just more lines on my face now the region right below my nose mimics Droopy’s. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I use the mirror to check if I needed a haircut and never went
past below the hairline. At age 55 one knows what to expect. However, I
heard some talk that I lost weight and wanted to know what it is they see. So I
began exploring below the hairline. I did lose weight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was not due to exercise or having too much of it. My
biking has actually taken a pause these past few months. No, not severe lethargy but a matter of who stays with Carmella while I ride. And though the
bike went through some serious gear train upgrade, the rider remained sedentary.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is good news, though. Within the next few days
Patricia will start working from home. The little sister will now have the big
sister to watch over her while their dad goes away for a few hours of self
indulgence. Someone up there loves me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, the loss in weight has nothing to do with biking. My
annual physical exam indicates, on average, everything as normal.
Well, there is still the issue of arrhythmia, anemia and spondylosis but are all
under control the doctors never considered them serious. For a while, the look of the
man in the mirror caused some concern. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Concern, however, can also be a springboard of gratitude if one chooses. That I can still do laps inside my favorite trails, join my nephew and
niece on out of town mountain biking trips, in spite of the worry cloud hovering
over my head are reasons to thank my Creator for this life I celebrate. I may
run out of breath quite quickly now and my heartbeat I hear much louder but these
I decided will be my motives for jubilation. I am alive and savoring life. Nothing
beats that. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not even if each morning I see a reflection of Droopy Dog on
the mirror.</div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-91671353305527339422013-08-28T19:58:00.000+08:002013-08-28T19:58:02.804+08:00In Search for Significance<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“You and I live in an age when only a rare minority of individuals desire to spend their lives in pursuit of objectives which are bigger than they are. In our age, for most people, when they die it will be as though they never lived.” Rusty Rustenbach, Giving Yourself Away</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="background: white; color: #5a5a5a; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It must be my age. Or maybe it’s only me. At 55, I feel I’ve
reached a point where what I do should not be done just for the sake of doing
it. A few years ago I would have cared less. But a time comes when what
you leave behind and how you will be remembered starts to grab your attention.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was late 2010 when I biked all the way to Baguio City, over
200 kilometers away, on my then alloy mountain bike. Before we started my aim
was to see my limits. But right in the middle of it I remembered my daughters.
Here is something they will be talking among themselves and then later with
their children.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometime in the
future, on their way to visit their roots in that cool mountain city, they will
be talking how Papa made this one ridiculous attempt to better himself. Later
they will be telling their children how Grandpa made the kilometers and mashed
his way up Kennon Road because he wanted to leave them a story. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IcmyuDfL1Mo/Uh3c88HHFkI/AAAAAAAAAkk/JnbF2sfEvgU/s1600/P1030551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IcmyuDfL1Mo/Uh3c88HHFkI/AAAAAAAAAkk/JnbF2sfEvgU/s400/P1030551.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But whenever I think of leaving a significant mark, I always
remember Jojo, a very good friend from Texas. He is an icon as far as this
writer is concerned. Here is a man focused on sowing the seeds that will
benefit others, particularly the marginalized, through his work in Gawad Kalinga.
Here is man truly in pursuit of objectives bigger than he is. Here is a man who
will look back at his life convinced he lived it well. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
John Maxwell once wrote, <i>“significance comes when you add value to others.”</i> I share this thinking and so I emulate Jojo.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would love to bike and do nothing else. I started my sport this way. And then I began to notice along my favorite single track a people displaced. They are there, in spite the harsh surroundings, in spite of the lack of basic necessities like water and electricity, an old tarpaulin as their roof, because this is the only place they can call, even temporarily, home. Mountain biking in my backyard offers me a view of people abandoned.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While most would breeze on, focused on the trail ahead and their body English, there are a handful of us who can hear, smell and see the struggle around us. So we stop, we reach out, we give. We believe it is the only way we can render back to those who allowed us into their space so we can enjoy our sport. But my true reward is I enjoyed my biking even more after my giving.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First, I feel safer knowing I am threading the same ground as those who see me as their friend. There is no wondering off to places that may be dangerous for the very people who see me as their friend stops me.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next, people wave me over for coffee, a simple snack and small talk. The warmth makes me feel I am family and always welcomed here.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Finally, it makes me discover the real joy of selfless giving. I would have earned a few pesos selling my old bike frame but giving it away to someone in there who long yearned to have something representing my ride, who yells us his “hello!” while blowing his air horn every time we bike past his claim, creates happiness that is without measure.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And there may be no payment for the effort of bringing school supplies for the poor in that area but the “thank you!” from the parents who sees school are their children's only hope raises one’s own hope for a better world.</div>
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<br /></div>
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When it is time for me to draw the curtain, I would like to look back to a life that has been lived and lived to the full. A life that found joy in giving. A life that found significance through the smiles of the people whose lives I have touched. A life that sowed seeds of hope. A life that has done all these and had fun doing it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Katherine Graham puts it best:<i> “To love what you do and feel that it matters—how could anything be more fun?”</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hxiZKnnKoPI/Uh3aDq4GUdI/AAAAAAAAAkY/i6lVaSzLsiY/s1600/P1070355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hxiZKnnKoPI/Uh3aDq4GUdI/AAAAAAAAAkY/i6lVaSzLsiY/s400/P1070355.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white;"><br /></span></div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-89752408824077603202013-05-23T16:44:00.001+08:002013-05-23T16:44:32.212+08:00Still We Celebrate<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cecille turned 50 last May 21.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But what irony. A day that started with so much joy and
celebration interrupted by a late afternoon news from her doctor that her
recent CT Scan indicates the nodule in her liver has grown 30%. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reaching half centuries should be golden moments, milestones,
an apex. A time for great jubilation, a time for dancing. An occasion of
significance. A moment of dampened spirits it should never be.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still, in spite of the daunting news of this enhancing
nodule, with all finesse, Cecille carried on celebrating.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_nTm8gU9eWk/UZ3Vc-twOBI/AAAAAAAAAjI/3J_rDqpJ0pM/s1600/HBD+cecile.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_nTm8gU9eWk/UZ3Vc-twOBI/AAAAAAAAAjI/3J_rDqpJ0pM/s320/HBD+cecile.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo Credits: Migs Ebarvia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For my beloved, being alive after that sad news of 4<sup>th</sup>
stage Adenocarcinoma some 2 years ago is reason for great rejoicing, of
thanksgiving, of witnessing. Half centuries are landmarks and this strong-willed and deeply
spiritual lady believes there is much yet to accomplish, much yet to share, much
love yet to give. No illness, no new pronouncements will stop these.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hence the journey continues. She looks forward to running
the race that was set before her by her Almighty and loving Creator, her God,
her King. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Myself, I will hold her hands and run with her. Our race it
shall be.</div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-41562723796423789102013-04-16T11:48:00.001+08:002013-04-17T07:16:52.592+08:00The Old Man and The Niner<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X67LG0jPb78/UWy1uhBkPAI/AAAAAAAAAik/lC9yAwrvLl0/s1600/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X67LG0jPb78/UWy1uhBkPAI/AAAAAAAAAik/lC9yAwrvLl0/s320/13.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>“I
may not be as stong as I think, but I know many tricks and I have
resolution.” <span style="text-decoration: none;">Ernest
Hemingway</span>, <span style="text-decoration: none;">The
Old Man and the Sea</span></i>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A foreword.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For the uninitiated, there are
currently 2 standards in mountain biking: the 26 inch and the 29 inch
wheel. Another is getting into the fray, the 27.5 inch or the 650b.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Why a the bigger wheel? Simply put, the bigger the wheel the easier it is to roll over obstacles. Period. Think
skateboard and the car. The smaller wheeled skateboard sees all
sleeping police men aka “humps” as mountains and pebbles as rock
gardens. But not the bigger wheeled car. Which when translated to the
trail, roots, chutes, steps and many others are mostly non issue with
the bigger wheel. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That out of the way, on with the story, which is
about the bike, the experience, of friendships and where it often
leads to.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It has been two weeks and it still
lingers. Something good always does.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Several weeks ago, I visited my
favorite bike shop, hoping to find a good deal on an entry-level bike
for my very confused wannabe mountain biker nephew, when I bumped
into some folks who appeared to be in some state of utter
bewilderment, severely dazed, very much like my nephew. I can feel
the fierce battle was raging within these confounded people.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am familiar with the symptoms. It
innocently started as mere price fishing. And then the brewing storm:
the apparent confusion between want and need, between the cherished
item and the wife who may not serve you dinner or, worse, altogether
cancel your “Thursday Delight” because you ran out of sane
reasons for this untimely purchase.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Local bike shops can be a very
difficult place to be in. I have to embarrassingly admit I am,
without fail, short of frothing in the mouth whenever I get into one.
Like this favorite store I just stumbled in, where a member of its successful marketing team happens to be a good friend (although he has yet to prove his marketing mettle on stingy me. Maybe the frothing scares him, I do not know.) But man,
I can sit there for hours talking bike, breathing bike, feeling the
bikes and still be treated to free coffee.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I now suspect it is some guilt ploy.
The coffee I mean. After drinking gallons of free stuff, who wouldn't
feel guilty if they don't buy anything?
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But in spite of dazed visitors, zombie
land it isn't. More like Nirvana. Free coffee or none.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That Wednesday Francis must have
overheard me talking to CJ about his shift to a 29 inch wheel from a
26. I have, like forever, wondered if butt pain is inversely
proportional wheel size.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The next thing I knew, he was telling me
to bring along a bike carrier the following day. He was loaning me a
<a href="http://www.ninerbikes.com/jet9">Niner Jet9</a> for 4 days. I guess being the good friend that he is and, I dare add, a 29er biker himself, he can not and will not allow me to go on with life feeling so distressed and confused. Empathy defined.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So Friday found me giggling like a
little boy as I blaze along Malipay, Saturday grinning and yelling
like the Mad Hatter throughout Timberland, and finally Monday pushing
myself like crazy in Filinvest. Absolute fun, two painful spills
included.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
To enjoy mountain biking one has to
know how to keep balance and maintain momentum. Having learned all
this the painful way, which was after several spills and endos (endo
- being thrown over the handlebar for choosing the wrong line), the lesson has somehow ingrained itself into my being. Pain has a way of making
you remember.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
With bigger wheels then, when you have something that just rolls over almost
anything, the fun factor rises exponentially. This is what a 29er
gave me.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Focus is more on choosing my line
and less on body English. Yes, in some ways, this Jet 9 made me a
bit braver. And of course, having top shelf items on board does give
you the edge. They always do, psychologically, at least.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But if there is one thing this amateur
sees as big wheel disadvantage, the 29er does take a bit more
effort to get up to speed. A bit sluggish from standstill. But since
I did not suffer any lactic acid chaos in my legs during the course of using this bike, the effect of Newton's law on inertia is easily overlooked.<br />
<br />
On the top tube is writtten “Pedal Damn It!” So pedal I did, damn it! A case of mind over matter? Perhaps.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
While I am perfectly happy with my
hardtail and its entry level equipment, to find myself on a big
wheeled full suspension rocket is euphoria. It is like being the king
of the hill, whatever that hill is. And while the battered butt took
some time getting used to plush rear suspension, riding this rocket
is a level up.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A level up in so many ways, indeed, made more profound because a friend believed on doing me one good
turn.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was the late Zig Ziglar who said
that when we help others achieve their dreams, we achieve ours. While
I do not know if I helped Francis achieve his, as he is still
struggling with his marketing skills with me, most assuredly he
helped me with mine. And while this blog has mentioned more of this
experience of a lifetime, it is really an essay on where friendships
often lead us.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Just like how big wheels roll over most
obstacles leaving you free to focus on your momentum, real
friendship, likewise, frees you from so many burdens so you can focus on your strengths, on your joys, on your freedom, on things
that really matter. Real friendship is empowerment.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
More than live the dream itself, albeit temporarily, this generosity helped me discover things that I never knew I had,
things I am capable of, of true joy on a bike. I learned to love
myself even more, actually.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And there, a four day adventure I will
never forget.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Thanks, Francis!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ncxY8RqYYWU/UWy0Pt7HhWI/AAAAAAAAAic/EcAk0951c7o/s1600/blog12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="173" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ncxY8RqYYWU/UWy0Pt7HhWI/AAAAAAAAAic/EcAk0951c7o/s320/blog12.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Man himself, far left.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-9180689812262239332013-03-27T11:26:00.001+08:002013-03-27T11:26:12.464+08:00My 5-Week Singlehood: A Mid Term Recap<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JszH6LX2J60/UVJf7kn6B1I/AAAAAAAAAiM/Hm7ouohv03g/s1600/Miracles+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JszH6LX2J60/UVJf7kn6B1I/AAAAAAAAAiM/Hm7ouohv03g/s320/Miracles+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
By the way, “singlehood” is not
recognized as an English word. That is, if I have to rely on
LibreOffice Writer's spell checker. Maybe because “singlehood” is
merely this author's state of mind.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am almost past halfway. Singlehood, that is. My dear wife and daughter are
both in the US fulfilling one of our dreams for Carmella.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I stayed behind for various reasons,
mostly self-serving. Like I do not want to go through the trouble of
getting a US visa again. Well, I have been denied once and one
embarrassment is all this poor writer can handle. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was also intent on getting on with my
writing, which I have to admit, I am doing rather poorly. I guess
writer's block is at its worst when your heart longs for someone's
presence. Things are more lucid when both of them are around.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then there is also the mountain biking
part which I promised Cecille I will do on a daily basis. I even got
myself a new knee support. Fail. Big time. The most I can manage is a
lame once-a-week pedal.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So they are there, an ocean away from
me, and each one with a different objective. Which I think I should
also mention here as it colors my 5-week state of singlehood.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For Cecille, a trip to the US will not
be complete without a visit to one of the closest outlet mall. It's
not the buying part that excites but the experience of being
surrounded by on-sale original is, for her, akin to being in
Nirvana. She may have the same level of joy being in Divisoria but in
the years I have known this lady that I love, I learned that women
would rather have the real McCoy even it is hardly distinguishable
from an imitation.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I really do not get it. Call this
writer a bumpkin but for me, unless that Crocodile faces the wrong
direction, I find no shame in wearing a close copy.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What I really find hilarious in all
this is I do the reconnoitering for her. I may be here but I am
Cecille's eyes when it comes to getting the best offer on pressure
cookers, Timex watches, Nike budget socks, Salt Sticks capsules and
many more.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I know how many minutes away is the
nearest REI, Nike store, Borders and Walmart, thanks to Google Maps.
I know where best to meet friends to make the most of reunions.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I know that the best offer on watches
is not at Nordstrom Rack but at Walmart: $19 for a good Timex Sports
Watch and very, very original. No fakes there, I am sure.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So while they are enjoying every moment, I am busy feeding them information that will make their trip worth it. A backroom covert operative clone, if you ask me. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
An egg on my face, really, but I have
never done as extensive a research as I am doing now. If only I had
the same fervor back in college, I would be the current owner of
several companies.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
For Carmella, this trip is about finally getting that dream gadget, a
pair of expensive earphones from Skullcandy (surprised Cecille
actually bought her one), a pair of Vans shoes and her dream bag
from Jansport. She now spends the rest of her US trip playing games
and taking pictures using the same gadget.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But I miss my girls.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I miss my after dinner talks with
Cecille. Better than kitchen dates, this is when we are most
comfortable with each other. Often there is nothing special to talk
about, but the presence of the beloved speaks louder than words.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I miss her incessant housekeeping. I
miss her relaxation mode called the “Telenovela.” I miss going to the Sunday Feast with her. I miss her special sweet soupy desserts. I miss
laughing with her. I miss embracing her.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And while my days are filled with
non-stop debate when she is around, I miss Carmella. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Somehow, Man vs
Food Nation tastes bland without her. I miss the intellectual
discourse that comes after watching Intervention. I miss the
inspiration she articulates after watching Kings of Restoration. I
miss her art work. I miss watching her read. I miss her singing. I miss biking with her.
I miss the hugs.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I have roughly 3 more weeks. I
can't wait.</div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-20429728635866298892013-02-19T14:29:00.001+08:002013-02-19T14:45:41.942+08:00Why I Continue To Wear Yellow<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UtVYzAfmfPM/USMZ30-v_oI/AAAAAAAAAh8/4kU3ES2XE24/s1600/P1080138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UtVYzAfmfPM/USMZ30-v_oI/AAAAAAAAAh8/4kU3ES2XE24/s320/P1080138.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I like Lance Armstrong mainly for his
efforts towards cancer awareness. But I never was an avid follower. I
never knew why. Maybe because he is still a roadie and I am a
mountain biker? Maybe because he is more concerned about draft while
I more of that next drop? Maybe because he rides Trek and I ride
generic?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There is a chasm that exists between
being a roadie and a mountain biker which, for some of us, is a
divide that is difficult to cross. For this mountain biker in
particular, he finds the equipment on that side of the ridge more
expensive; where size is inversely proportional to cost. He can not
comprehend, for the life of him, how some tiny thing, merely because
it came from the land of pizza and spaghetti, can be more expensive
than his Romanian made wheelset.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Going back to Lance, I knew little of
the man. If not for friends who spoke about his exploits in Leadville
over our usual post-bike beer fest, I would have not known he
actually ride mountainbikes and can be pretty good at it. In fact, he
won that event beating a Leadville icon.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But what really stood out in my view was
he had cancer and had beaten it. For one who is familiar with this
illness, that introduction to the man was enough. My purpose has been
defined.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So I put on the band, not for the
personality who started it but because of his victory over the
disease. Indeed, I wear this band for more profound reasons.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I wear this band because of the noise
it made about cancer and its quest to find a cure.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I wear this band for the father who
will never get to experience how to walk his daughter on her wedding
day or the mother who will never know how it is to beam with pride on
her son's college graduation because they lost their children to
cancer.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I wear this band for the son who will
never know how it is to feel his dad's enduring compassion specially
on moments when all things seems lost or the daughter who will
forever miss her mom's laughter while she prepares breakfast because
they lost their parents to cancer.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I wear this band for those who now
journey on in life with a limp because the person that gives them
true strength is now gone, taken by cancer.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I wear this band for Cecille and
Carmella and those like them who have gone through, some still going
through, this dreadful experience called cancer.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Until cancer is finally beaten, I
will wear my yellow Livestrong band.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yes, I wear this band for more profound
reasons.</div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-10307552214608263202013-02-05T15:20:00.004+08:002013-02-06T08:16:06.490+08:00Valentine Stories<br />
<br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Valentine Story 1:</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The other night, I found myself huddled with the significant other while she was watching her favorite telenovela. No, I have not changed my mind about them. As I have written a few blogs earlier, I am not one for telenovelas. I think they dwell heavily on the sad and then insidiously package it as something entertaining. How can sad be entertaining remains a conundrum for this writer. </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Back to the cuddling. On the screen was, for my wife, the “kilig-King,” the young actor Xian Lim. I impishly asked her if she prefers I was as good looking. Turning to me and with a tight hug she said: “I will always choose this one, for he takes care of me.” </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I never saw myself as the caring husband but more of the debating type. Cecille loves to rebut any thought I would verbalize. These days, however, she would just remain quiet. She probably thinks it is dangerous to argue with a fool for people listening will not know who among us is. There is virtue in silence. </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But that evening something beautiful was said and with it, I have become more of a man that I imagined myself to be.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Valentine Story 2:</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fairly recently, even if it lasted only for two paydays, I was able to give Cecille a little allowance. Literally little. As in 200 Philippine Pesos little. Or at the current exchange rate US$5. My power, honestly, can not go beyond that.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To give an idea how little is little: no one goes on a date on Php200 unless they are intent on sharing a <i>balut </i>(fertilized duck egg) and a <i>Coke sakto</i> as their date's highlight. There should be enough left for a packet of <i>Mentos</i> to mask the <i>balut </i>aftermath. </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For someone who already receives a modest 5-figure salary, Php200 is hardly significant. It will not buy her that bag she has been wanting for decades or even that shoe or a Double Burger at Army Navy. It may bring her to Greenhills or Divisoria where she can get a good made-in-China imitation but she will not, for a good portion of that Php200 will be spent on fare alone. There is no indulging on Php200. </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But while most would find Php200 pitiful (others might even decide to give me another Php200 as a sign they sympathize with my predicament), this woman was just happy to receive. It is not merely out of prudence, as I now understand it. Cecille's sense of joy is more profound, always defined by the condition of the giver's heart.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For her, it is not how much I have but who I am willing to be in our relationship. That I have this assurance from the woman of my dreams, this Php200 truly rewards me more than her.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g5eE15W2BxY/URCxPmASxHI/AAAAAAAAAhs/YOsSxltGFEk/s1600/WP_000335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g5eE15W2BxY/URCxPmASxHI/AAAAAAAAAhs/YOsSxltGFEk/s320/WP_000335.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-55479972977670454882013-01-22T22:06:00.001+08:002013-02-03T12:09:44.032+08:00The Gift<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Yes, it has been a while since I have
been on these pages. If not for the recent blog written about <a href="http://www.stefdelacruz.com/2013/01/mother-and-daughter-fight-cancer.html?utm_source=BP_recent">Cecille</a> and <a href="http://www.stefdelacruz.com/2013/01/leukemia-according-to-carmella.html">Carmella</a>, there is a strong possibility I would have remained dormant <i>Ad
infinitum</i>.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I simply lost my zest. I really thought
going into a new career as a marketing consultant would further hone
my writing and speaking skills. Instead, I found myself in a jungle,
among hostile natives who, before all these began, I always knew as
friends. With only a nail clipper to cut my way through the tangled
vines, shrubs and small trees, I have become an unwilling Indiana
Jones sans the machete and whip.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It has been tough these last several
months. What aggravated it even more, I suppose, was I completely misunderstood the word “marketing.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
With all that was so unexpected suddenly popping and pounding me, I was on the verge of believing I am no
longer capable of smart, of doing something outstandingly good that
could be considered as productive. I began to seriously
question my gifts and the supreme being who gave them. I began to
question my worth. I wept.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And then the blog from Stef dela Cruz.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Simply, her craft reminded me where I belong, where I can “BE,” where I can do
my art in abandon, where my audience is. The written word is my
refuge. My writing is me at my very best.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
This is my gift, my treasure, my very
own. Something no one can deconstruct nor debase. And specially not
through contradicting definitions of the art called “marketing.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I am back. Definitely.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zu9EvKkBMmY/UP6WdiNtJOI/AAAAAAAAAhc/P03ommDhqTM/s1600/576989_10150954201874133_1426182004_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zu9EvKkBMmY/UP6WdiNtJOI/AAAAAAAAAhc/P03ommDhqTM/s320/576989_10150954201874133_1426182004_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-37779427180259014142012-07-03T09:25:00.001+08:002012-07-03T13:46:55.216+08:00When Minimum Wage Is Not<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hobCw-6Rtek/T_I93yVn1ZI/AAAAAAAAAdw/Dliabj4fj-E/s1600/P1070657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hobCw-6Rtek/T_I93yVn1ZI/AAAAAAAAAdw/Dliabj4fj-E/s320/P1070657.jpg" width="204" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Someone finally saw unique my ability
to waffle on without breathing. He saw the great potential behind it
and decided he'd put it to good use. Hence, I now join the ranks of
the employed, hired as a marketing newbie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Since experience is directly
proportional to price, I am paid newbie rates. But no matter. Coming
from a situation where I receive a monthly allowance from the
significant other, which was just enough to meet my cellular
provider's most basic prepaid option, the feeling of being paid after
long term dependency is akin to winning a jackpot.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There is freedom in being salaried. It
may not be the same freedom as that being enjoyed by the Taipans of this nation, or by my niece who works as a successful fleet sales representative of a blue chip company that is Petron or even by the regular call center agent. But freedom is priceless no
matter how limited it may be.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I can now afford to pay for a round of
beer on the next bonding time with my biking buddies. I can now
afford to treat my children to the occasional burger and fries at
McDonald's or even a medium sized Pizza at Yellow Cab. I can now
afford to pay for coffee during my mini dates with Cecille (as a fancy
dinner is still a bit steep in my current category). I can now afford
to get Efcie a new Duro Miner tire she badly needs.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
But more than what I can now afford,
there are lessons to be learned here.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I am already contented with my own
goals but to actually adopt someone's mission and vision and make it a
part of my agenda makes me seriously reassess my position in the
bigger scheme of things. To see the world through someone's eyes,
essentially through my superior's at work, opens up my view to bigger
opportunities that I never knew existed.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Important still, this new beginning
promises that my writing and talking skills will be honed even more.
And given that these two are my core gifts, I can not imagine myself
in a much better position. To be paid for using one's gifts while
being given the chance to turn it into an even bigger gift, in my
view, makes minimum wage exuberant.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
This is more than a case of being
hired. This is, in every sense, a significant journey.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I have always wondered how it is to be
a scholar, to get compensated while being trained to be the best in
your field. And at age 54 I get to experience all that.</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-87771287418248481272012-05-03T12:06:00.000+08:002012-05-03T12:12:26.229+08:00Oh The Drama!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: en.wikipedia.org</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
</div>
Right after Cecille got her prognosis,
we were invited to attend a seminar on Women and Cancer in one of the
best hospitals in Manila.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A lady doctor, to
create presentation impact, showed photos of well known celebrities who
survived their battle with the big C. Among them she made
particular mention of Sheryl Crow. I would have left it at that but
when she immediately added that Lance Armstrong left her as soon
as he learned she has cancer, it was difficult listening to the
rest of her talk.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am sure she is not privy to the lives
of this couple. Any knowledge she has regarding the split can only be
speculative, if not taken from gossip. But if she was genuinely
focused on cancer than on dramatics, she would have mentioned Lance
as himself a survivor, a Tour de France icon for winning it several times in a row - an
achievement beyond compare and which proves there is life after cancer,
and finally the very one who started the Livestrong movement whose aim is to help those stricken with
the dreaded disease. Then this doctor's presentation would have achieved something truly positive and consequently shower her audience with hope.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But wherever her info about the Sheryl-Lance separation came from, she got the attention she wanted.
“<i>Drama</i>” has pulling power even when based on half-baked truths.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sadly, in this journey me and
Cecille are in, there are some we know who expect a “<i>drama</i>”
ending. And since no “<i>drama</i>” is apparent, they are quietly
disappointed about her progress and the total healing we already see
looming on the horizon. They see weeping and moaning and dwelling on
death far more interesting than joy as fruit of hope, optimism, and
basking in life.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maybe living in this broken world has
made us want to search for disappointments more than hope. We remain
pessimists because we do not want to be disappointed with sad
endings. In essence, ironic it may be, there are those who prefer suiting themselves up for failure than success, suffering than healing. I find this sort of attitude very self-defeating.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A close relative living in the US,
whenever we talk would, without fail, air her worries about the
possibility of finding herself without work next year. I am not sure
if it is their way of telling me I should not expect from them any
biking related items from Jenson's or Performance Bikes even if they are on sale. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And yet, for as long as I remember,
through all the recession and the economic troubles that US had, she
remains connected with the same company that recruited her so many
years ago, facilitated her family's permanent residence in the US, received treatment at Stanford for her type of cancer, and was
able to send her children to private schools. With all the good things
going for her, I wonder where all the gloom is coming from. Drama
school? Perhaps.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am beginning to think that all this
talk of failure and darkness stems from the belief that indulging
in it creates a sense of security, a buffer from eventual suffering. They
dwell on sad endings thinking they will shed fewer tears in the event
it really happens. As if talking incessantly about the bad will
prevent it from actually taking place. Really?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We have inundated ourselves with so
much of the bad that we have forgotten a simple fact: <i>where we focus,
where we turn our gaze, there we will go.</i> My good friend Alex says it
better: “<i>What we are conscious of, manifests.</i>” But since “<i>drama</i>”,
no matter how ill its effect, is interesting so we submit. And
then we complain.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Science talks of the existence of
totipotent cells in our bodies that manufacture cancer cells when a
person is in severe depression. With all this bad we insist dwelling
on, we are essentially telling our bodies to get sick.<br />
<br />
Then
again, there is “<i>drama</i>” in being depressed, in being seen as
suffering, in being hopeless, in being sick. In fact, I know of folks
who insist they are better than the rest because they have illness
more than anyone else. <i>Please, take this cancer with you!!!!</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But Cecille and I want nothing of that.
We are keenly focused on hope, on ending this journey on a high note,
on healing.<br />
<br />
Without the drama.</div>Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-69773069226113383772012-03-16T18:58:00.000+08:002012-03-18T21:53:02.125+08:00This Is Where I Breathe<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Stopping for some hydration mid way
through our trail route that day, in between the panting after that
last climb, I turned to Alex and heard myself saying: <i>“Kabsat, this
is where I breathe.”
</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hFOWdGGMp_8/T2MZeADooWI/AAAAAAAAAZU/HyGObjqPbwM/s1600/P1060877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hFOWdGGMp_8/T2MZeADooWI/AAAAAAAAAZU/HyGObjqPbwM/s320/P1060877.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
No words. He just looked at me and,
being there since the time I learned of Cecille's prognosis,
understood what I meant.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This current journey through cancer
tosses so many questions into the mix. While I chose not to be
afraid, there are times when my reserve starts to ebb. This is when I
gear up, fill my water bottles and head towards my favorite trail
where I am sure to find my bearing, have my fill, feel life up close.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Things can get busy in there, with so
many things to remember. You have to remember that before you commit,
you need to define your line. You have to remember to keep your
balance and momentum at all times. You have to remember to focus or
else risk injury. You have to remember to stay active and loose on
the bike. Importantly, you have to remember to enjoy.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The trail can yield a lot of surprises
and what you think you know may end up on your face. Literally. That
crest ahead may appear innocent and manageable but can, in an
instant, cause your rear tire to lose traction and slide. Believe me,
the aftermath hurts.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Or when on that most critical turn your
fork decides to rise by itself and for a second there, lose all
traction. It can cause massive panic.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But there are also times when like a
little child, I let her rip. Up that berm, through those fire roads,
over those ruts and roots no matter if my bottom takes a severe
beating. The rush is worth it. The back side may be sore but the
impish grin will always be there.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Right now I am learning to bunny hop
over obstacles. I may be too late into my biking years to be trying
this. Nonetheless a personal achievement considering a wrong fall can
seriously hurt this soon to be 54 year old.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I think the most fun comes when
discovering a new singletrack. At first a sense of hesitation but I
know that as soon as I've done something once, I will be fine. And
so I pedal myself into the path, rolling down several drops and then
conquering the steep step-up that immediately followed. I triumphed!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Somehow I find all these encounters,
specially from where Cecille and I now stand, mirror life. Just like
threading into the unknown singletrack, the earlier days were filled
with uncertainties and apprehensions.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But Cecille and I, in spite of the
odds, chose to pedal on into the unknown and roll over what ever
obstacle that will be in front of us. Our hearts know this struggle
is temporary. Our hearts know we will overcome.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Someone once said what you believe
about yourself and about your world is critical. I totally agree. How
we see ourselves is essentially how we will see our world.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In this particular place, with all it's
ruts, gnarly roots, sudden climbs and jolting drops, the believing in
myself takes a renewal. It brings back my bearing, it fills my cup,
it makes me feel life up close.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is here where the seeds that makes me
braver than brave grows and become forests.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is here where I breathe.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-17-iie2OhmY/T2MZyeSm5ZI/AAAAAAAAAZc/ilnWV9jdn3c/s1600/P1060803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-17-iie2OhmY/T2MZyeSm5ZI/AAAAAAAAAZc/ilnWV9jdn3c/s320/P1060803.JPG" width="228" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-79170398130982413332012-01-20T13:53:00.001+08:002012-01-20T20:53:34.627+08:00Cancer<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I love writing, I love telling my
stories which is why I love this blog.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But life suddenly threw something so
heavy that stumped me, broke me. Nothing made sense. It was so
unreal.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
October last year Cecille was
diagnosed with Stage 4 Adenocarcinoma. It is lung cancer at its
worst. The prognosis was severely devastating. It was life
interrupted. I lost all enthusiasm to write, to tell my story.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CMdg6M_IgjU/Txj03uS5YhI/AAAAAAAAAYw/mcmp9VdeqD8/s1600/P1060297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CMdg6M_IgjU/Txj03uS5YhI/AAAAAAAAAYw/mcmp9VdeqD8/s320/P1060297.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
No symptoms. One day she was healthy,
the next they accidentally discovered this tumor as big as a tennis
ball in her right lung and metastasis has occurred. They took tissue
samples for biopsy on the nodules that has already grown on the base
of her neck. It spread even to her liver.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I tried to hold on to anything that
would make me understand but nothing above that which was dreadful
would come. Some relatives and friends from whom I was counting for strength were the
very ones insistent in finding out how soon all this will end. Some
even encouraging me to start sorting our affairs, to prepare for
the worst.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Cecille and I live healthy lives. We
never indulge on processed food particularly those that comes in cans.
We consume vegetables and fruits more than most close acquaintances. We
would rather eat in and enjoy our cooking than eat out. We have no
vices.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I bike till I drop while Cecille is
among the few in our village who does not take the trike from the
village main gate to our home preferring the good 150-meter walk.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We love life and have made it our
advocacy to help those who are stricken with cancer, those with less, those just wishing to have a little more time with ones they love.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Now it is Cecille who is sick. An irony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This person, my reason for my writing, my inspiration,
my strength, is sick. I thought we were through with this sort of journey after Carmella. I thought we were done with the aches, the anxiety, the bouts with hopelessness. I thought I would never be afraid again. I wanted to be angry.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But there is so much goodness Cecille has brought into my life. She made me complete. She is my joy. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So I chose to believe.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"Look where you want to go next, and don't focus on the rocks and bumps immediately in front of you."</i></span> </span>as
one biker mom wrote in a mountain biking magazine I recently read.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“<i>Look where you want to go
next.....”</i> Indeed, it is not about the journey, with all its
struggles, but where Cecille and I wanted to be at the end of this
road.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So rather than be afraid, I chose to
focus on healing. Rather than be disturbed by the uncertain, I
chose to look, with enthusiasm, towards our plans and hopes.
Rather than doubt, I chose to believe.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N7iHxz4xqBI/Txj83D2GYnI/AAAAAAAAAY4/9E4qa7dH9BE/s1600/P1010334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N7iHxz4xqBI/Txj83D2GYnI/AAAAAAAAAY4/9E4qa7dH9BE/s320/P1010334.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Down this path, this particular gnarly
single track, I have chosen my line and I have committed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I know I will see my self through.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>-----------</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<i>As of this writing, Cecille is currently on her fourth chemotherapy session. Middle of February she will have another CT Scan to assess the progress of her treatment. Her last scan revealed that after two treatments the tumor has shrunk by 46% while most of the nodules have disappeared. We believe that come February we will see ourselves through.</i></div>Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-63952867439196696842011-09-22T10:38:00.000+08:002011-09-22T13:57:29.359+08:00Would I Have It Any Other Way?<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There are times when discouragement
sets in. Frustrated because of the limited space one operates in, he
gets choked by what he perceives as a continuing want. He begins to
notice that everyone had ran past him, leaving him to ask if it was
complacency or the absence of freedom, like those enjoyed by others, caused his timid pace. All the unanswered questions breaks him.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ohUaT1Kk6Ck/TnqZO3TgdHI/AAAAAAAAAYI/p9iVHa0PkRM/s1600/P1050432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ohUaT1Kk6Ck/TnqZO3TgdHI/AAAAAAAAAYI/p9iVHa0PkRM/s320/P1050432.JPG" width="320" /></a>But in the middle of his distress, he
turns to see his sleeping daughter and begins to ask.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Would he really choose personal freedom
over her? Would all the synonyms of success come close
to the 7-letter name of his child?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Would he rather be that father busy
building his empire or would he, instead, choose to be present and
available for every little victory she achieves, be awed by another original and built-up-from-scratch art project, listen
to each story she wants to share?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Would he rather spend the day in the
company of people he views as artists, endlessly indulging with them
in hope that what he learns will give him the empowerment he seeks? Or
would he prefer hearing his daughter read him a story?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Would he chase every opportunity that
will bring him esteemed stature among his peers or would instead
choose immersing on the experience of living and laughing with his
child?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-an_uAW2LsQ8/TnqZuu05kzI/AAAAAAAAAYM/5V92SYWUiLQ/s1600/P1050778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-an_uAW2LsQ8/TnqZuu05kzI/AAAAAAAAAYM/5V92SYWUiLQ/s320/P1050778.JPG" width="320" /></a>Would he aim at working to have all that his
heart desires or would he settle for what is basic because the
endless pursuit of want may take him and his time away from her?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Would he rather have the personal space
to pursue his passions in exchange for the chance to witness his
child's journey from leukemia to recovery?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Would he have it any other way?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Nothing can be as eternally precious as this child, he remembers.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Joy flows and he begins to smile.</div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-738240182510740230.post-34547679333824721962011-09-12T13:47:00.000+08:002011-09-12T13:47:27.089+08:00When You Say Yes<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gydgTaAJzCc/Tm2b3I4O1QI/AAAAAAAAAXs/_vK3FgTTtAM/s1600/220px-YesMan2008poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gydgTaAJzCc/Tm2b3I4O1QI/AAAAAAAAAXs/_vK3FgTTtAM/s320/220px-YesMan2008poster.jpg" width="215" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Photo Credit: Wikipedia</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
You commit.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Otherwise you would have said “No”,
“I have to get back to you on that.”, “I am super busy!” or
my personal favorite: “Let me check Cecille.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When you say “Yes”, you are
essentially saying “I Can.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When you say “Yes”, it will often
be understood as “I deliver.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When you say “Yes”, you are
soliciting an “I Trust” from your audience.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When you say “Yes”, all who gave
their “I Trust” will start holding on to your every word. Nothing
less for one who has freely given his “I Trust.” Everyone awaits
the fulfillment of your “Yes.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The only choice is to deliver, to keep
your promise, to live up to your “Yes.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When you say “Yes” you have to
commit for whether you like it or not, your “Yes” talks loudly
about the brand named “ME”.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Now, if I only knew they will suddenly
take that object of my “Yes,” that led to my “I Can,” that
was understood as “I deliver,” that elicited an “I Trust,”
off the shelf.....</div>
Roy S. Jalecohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10578010715789937300noreply@blogger.com