I Believe For Every Drop Of Rain That Falls… is free !

This afternoon, after opening my lap-top like a sloth, viewing it like an indolent night owl,   my blood pressure had been put to a launching pad ready to soar up in the heavens. I can tell because my neck started to hug the muscles inward and blood circulated upwards through the veins of my face, ears, nose and certainly to my brain. My face started to red and my breast started to feel the pinch of a needle.

What happened to those officials of the government? To the Police? What are they doing? Don’t they have common sense?

Further viewing of the news article’s accompanying You Tube revealed that a person was imprisoned because of collecting rainwater in a pond. Another person was in a compromised arrangement with the local government because of the same reason.    Collecting rainwater? A crime?

The article said that, collection of rainwater “have long outlawed individuals from collecting rainwater on their own property because, according to officials, that rain belongs to someone else.”  Who is that someone else? The government?

This is the first time I’ve heard that a person was jailed for collecting rainwater. Sounds unreasonably and unlawfully  irritating. To the common man, rains are for everybody. Whatever his purpose of collecting  large volumes of these tiny drops of water from the sky is his own prerogative. I’m sure it was not to flood the town nor drown someone in the pond.

Property owners don’t own the clouds that hold big amounts of water. Clouds fly away and violate everybody’s properties’ air space. They’re not bound to stop in anybody’s air space. These are beyond the control of  man. Nature can explain. Nobody can tell the clouds to drop its rain in your property. The only thing is, you have the right to own anything that’s within the boundary of your property’s area, the air space and the underground. If it rains only in your property then the rains are yours. If it rains only in the mountains, valleys, hills, and highways, should the government take up the cudgels for owning the rainwater that flowed into the drainage, waterways, canals, etc.? Then the floods are theirs. Who need the floods anyway?

Haaahh ! What a relief. Expressing my disagreement with this local law has nearly taken me to a hospital. Water, please!  It’s eight forty-five PM and I haven’t eaten my dinner yet. Let’s see the food.

It’s canned sardines! Left-overs from lunch! I haven’t gone to the market yet. Maybe tomorrow I’ll buy green leafy vegetables and bananas. I have an apple in the ref which is a good source of Vitamins A, B, C and K.

Come on, let’s eat and sing I Believe!


The Lowly Shrimp Paste (Terasi,Bagoong) Can Be A Good Sandwhich Spread

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No one would buy the idea that the lowly shrimp paste can be made into an excellent sandwich spread,on toast.

Asian countries are blessed with long stretches of beaches which fishermen and the seaside folks used as their jump off point to any place in the country that are near the sea. These fishermen sometimes have an abundance of marine products caught. One of these are the shrimp fries which are made into paste and used as seasonings of various Asian foods. Some entrepreneurs had some interesting ideas to manufacture and bottle these shrimp paste and sold in the markets nationwide and some are exported to various countries where there are thick Asian population. Various flavors sprouted and became a household favorite. Asians used it in their menus as condiments and flavorings. Others use it as a substitute for MSG or seasoning in the local dialect. The bottled version is  ready to use after its opening.  That cuts its preparation time-saving considerable minutes of heat and sweat.

But among those uses which are not yet discovered by numerous users of the product is to use it as a spread in sandwiches.

I was looking for any spread in the refrigerator when this spicy flavored bottled shrimp paste which sits at the corner of the ref caught my attention.  So, I thought, why not?  I’m going to use this as my sandwich spread.

I toasted pieces of American bread. I put a generous amount of margarine and spread lightly with spicy flavored bottled sautéed shrimp paste. Just an addition of Mayonnaise or sandwich spread will be okay. But still it lacked a little bit of spiciness. I added a little of hot sauce and it was all over. And Voila! It tasted like no other spread! . Not yet perfect but it was good. You can adjust the flavor according to your taste. Or you can  mix all the ingredients then spread it. Except for the margarine which should be spread right after the bread has been toasted.

You can invent your own taste with the shrimp paste. Try and discover it.

Writing Challenge : ” The Ten Commandments” ; Five photos, Five stories – DAY 01

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I don’t understand what these writings mean when I first saw it but, I recognized what these are. The writing at the bottom of the tablet,  “Thy Will Be Done” , which is in English would lead us that this is the Ten Commandments of God. I found this tablet outside the church of Ivana in Batanes Island, Philippines. This only proved that Christianity was being practiced even at the farthest places of the country and as such cemented its foothold that it is the only christian nation in Asia. Even if there is freedom of religion, Catholics dominate the populace as compared to the other religions that were established before and after World War II.




Prakash of “It’s PH” blog, our classmate in Writing 201, requested me to give my description of Love in 4 words and in ten sentences, a sort of chain letter, and I agreed.

I thought this is an award nomination for me. I felt excited but it died down slowly. I was looking for prompts and this is an addition to my March list of prompts which I made for myself. I miss the daily prompts of Writing 201 which ended two days ago along side with the stress it gave me. But I survived the course which gained me an inheritance of the knowledge of time management. With this little know-how I acquired from Writing 201, time management was really a factor in making those ends meet. I cook for breakfast then eat, do the marketing, cook for lunch, visiting E-mails, Writing 201 in particular while cooking, eat my lunch, wash the dishes, take a bath, continue the Writing 201 by starting to write stanzas of the day’s prompt. If my mind don’t want to think a little about the topic, then I’ll take a nap. Wake up after an hour, then eat my snacks while in front of Writing 201 monitor. Prepare to go out to pay the monthly bills. Eat my early dinner at the mall. Then Writing 201 again until I’ve finish rewriting, editing, publishing, and sharing. And it’s 2 A.M. And in-between of those afternoon sessions, visitors would come and I would stop what I am doing. Then continue when they have left. That’s the life of being alone left by a partner whose already in heaven.

Nevertheless, I am accepting Prakash’s  ( It’s PH ) offer of sharing Love’s meaning in four words in ten sentences to 12 bros and sis of the just concluded course.

Here’s my  four- words, ten-sentences description of LOVE :

1. Love’s a “money-eating” monster.

2. Love’s a tear factory.

3. Love’s a baby-making machine.

4. Love glued people together.

5. Love makes redder lips.

6. Love’s a hide-and-seek artist.

7. Love’s a rose grower.

8. Love gives you everything.

9. Love interferes with life.

10. Love begets more love.

My quote about LOVE :

Love is the extra effort we make in our dealings with those whom we do not like and once you understand that, you understand all.
by: Quentin Crisp



I am nominated for this award by Shibatahirah and I’m asking myself, “Am I really worth of the nomination? Being nominated is an honor and I am humbled by it. Who am I to refuse. As the saying goes, “To refuse an offer is an insult” and I believe this nomination is an offer by a person who also believe in me and my posts, so to say. I am elated. Thank you, Shiba.


1) I began writing poems in High School and my classmates were fascinated by those poems that one of them also wrote some poems and presented them to me during free time.  I remember only the title of his piece, “The Cauldron of Love”. It was beautifully written about his love for a girl who became his wife. I’ve lost touch of their whereabouts because after graduation from HS they shared an apartment in the city and we lost contact from then on.

2) I also love composing songs. High School time was my field for it but it was in the boarding house that compositions of mine were heard. I wrote the lyrics and memorized the tune with the help of a borrowed guitar. Once a song was mastered, I’d sang it for my board mates which they liked very much. I can only remember some lines of  this song which was their favorite and it “sold like hot cakes in our imaginary world”, says one of my board mates compliments for me.


                                                       Why do the flowers grow, just look at them? Why?

Why do the rivers flow, each time you cry? Why?

Why won’t you tell me, that you love me too? Why?

Fifteen years after, I saw one of my board mates in a bus. She didn’t recognized me but I was sure she was my board mate years back as her dark skin and boyish looks stuck in my mind and she was my number one fan during our school days. With two lovely kids in tow, I was sure if I’d sang the tune of “Why” in front of her she would have recognized me.

3) I was in the top ten roll of honors in HS. Being one of the top students, it was not a sure path for glory. I stumbled at the very last years of high school. I was lured into drugs, cough syrups and capsules, and maryjane (marijuana). It was curiosity that led me into it. Friends with the same vices were my constant companions. Schooling in the day, drunk in the evening. And that was my passport to jail. Overnight, we were jailed for vagrancy. That was an eye opener for me about the situation of prisoners in jails. We were disheartened by what we saw.They slept on boxes spread like mats on the jail floor, eat their meals in styro foam boxes, drink their coffee and water in automotive oil plastic containers and the most disgusting of all, discharged their waste on worm infested toilet bowl. Before we were freed from our cell at noon time, we promised our prisoner mates that we will deliver some foods for them. And true to our words, we brought some bread, cakes, coffee, cigarettes  and candies to the prisoners a day after we were discharged from our prison cells. Although it was our day of misfortune, they were very thankful that we were jailed there for it brought them some time of abundance in terms of food. Our bad day, their gain.

4) I was chosen as my class’ representative for the current events question and answer contest in HS. I was nervous on stage to be in front of the whole High School department for such a contest. I was hoping it will not push through. And secretly, I was overjoyed for my hope became a reality. An announcement came blaring in our ears, “We are very sorry, the Current Events Question and Answer Contest will not happen this morning because the questions are not prepared on time.” Wheew, what a relief!

5) My first interview for a job. Queues of interviewees are slowly passing by my side. My chance of being hired by a big drug retailing company was coming to me in turtle pace. When my turn came, I passed it easily with flying colors. I was hired. After several years, I was promoted to the next level and that was my first chance of writing  a documentary about travel. Without knowing the rules and limitations of our company’s magazine, I submitted a ten page article, close to a thousand words. After a three-months wait, I was not delighted nor satisfied with the outcome of the article when it was published. Out of the ten page article, I was sure only three pages were used and published. I called up the magazine’s editor publisher and I was informed that the limit was just a mere 150 words. Then and there I thought, I was at fault. I did not bother to know the rules. Anyway, it was my first time and everybody deserved whatever the outcome of their first chance.

6) I felt the lowest ebb of my life when I received a call from my brother about the death of my father in the province. With a voice so low to be heard due to his crying, my brother sobbed at the phone and told me to come home for the burial. I filed my leave, packed my things and booked for a flight back home and the rest was  sadness focused on our final destination which is Death.

7) Death in a different time and in a similar place. My father died in a hospital and now, my wife. Both died in their hospital bed several years apart. I witnessed her last grasp of air. I was at her bedside. Friends came for their last glimpse to see her in a hospital bed for she would be in a wooden coffin later. Cremation claimed her last human state and later on became solid in powder form. Her ashes were stored in a brass urn and placed in a columbary.

8) I was elected as president of the youth organization in our place for a year. During my term, we were able to buy things needed by our citizens for disasters and calamities.

So, that was me witnessing a carefree world of the youth, my first taste of being a drug user, my first experience in jail, my first excitement as an employee, my first time to receive a news about death and first experience to witness death of a dying love one,  my first time to read my article in a magazine, and my first time to lead a youth organization.


1.Show the award on your Blog

2.Tell something about yourself stating a) your country of origin 2) Likes & Dislikes 3) School where you studied

3. Thank and acknowledge the person who nominated you.

4. Share some facts of life leading to your blogging or what made you blog?

5. In your opinion, is blogging worth your time spent? Explain or expand your answer.

6. Nominate 15 persons

7. Link your nominees and let them know.


1. Ken Ben

2. tonyasmithauthor

3. Americana Injustica

4. Richard Ankers

5. sloppy buddhist

6. cammira

7. conrad (The Wine Wankers)

8. Robert Okaji

9. lorieb

10. kaon02

11. Poetry & Writings of Christopher F. Brown

12. John Coyote

13. David Mcvety

14. jez farmer

15. malleestanley




Picasso painting Editorial Image

Art is not the truth but it is a reflection of what’s the truth. It is a realization of a lie which emanates from the true subject. It is a lie which came from truth but the lie can be perfectly recreated in a truthful manner, a perfect imitation of what is true.

Quotation by Pablo Picasso

  • “We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand. The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies.” 

Pablo Picasso (1881–1973), Spanish artist. repr. In Alfred H. Barr, Jr., Picasso: Fifty Years of His Art (1946). “Picasso Speaks,” The Arts (New York, May 1923).


Two Contrasting Beaches #3


San Francisco Garden Beach Resort at Camotes Island, Cebu, Philippines

The Philippines never runs out of beautiful beaches. Its coastlines are beaches of different structures, shapes, colors, and makes. Summertime is the best way to experience one of these amazing beaches. But rainy days can also be fun in these tourist destinations. Although different seasons can make out different experiences and enjoyment in your chosen paradise still you’ll be exposed to the same friendly and courteous  hospitality by the locals.

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Mati, Davao Oriental, Mindanao, Philippines

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Coming to this place can be fun and enjoyable. Seeing numerous  beautiful scenes along the way, you can forget your tiredness and spend longer moments enjoying live postcards right before your eyes. Once you’ve reach this beach in Mati, you’ll be running on the white sands directly to the beach with your clothes on because you can’t afford to waste minutes in making a dip into the cool and clear waters of the Pacific. Once you’re wet, enjoy for hours in your two-piece suit.



( pls. click each photo to appreciate )

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I wouldn’t say that the early settlers of Misamis, which were the Visayan people, drove away the original inhabitants of the place further to the mountains. Misamis has a  wide area and near the sea where the original inhabitants make fishing and a little of farming their way of  living. There’s no reason for them to vacate their own place in favor of the “invading” migrants. Although Misamis Oriental was the place that the early Visayan migrants live, still the area was large enough for the migrating population to inhabit and live side by side with them. The Visayans and other migrants coming from the northern parts of the country didn’t have arms with them to drive the original settlers  forcefully to the mountains of Bukidon.  Misamis was not a crowded place to settle and there’s still room for business for the original inhabitants and there’s more of life for them.  It might be that  the originals, could not compete with the enterprising migrants in business and trade with the other locals that some of them decided to try their luck in neighboring towns where the bulk of them settled in different areas of the mountains which were sparingly populated at that time or no settlers at all.

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“Bukidnon” came only in use when people from the lowlands  described them as  inhabitants coming from the mountains descending to nearby towns to buy food, goods and other things for their daily use. The town folks regarded them as “bukidnon”, folks from the mountain or living in the mountain.

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This is Dahilayan Forest Park, a beautiful resort at the top of a mountain where clouds kissing the pine trees and other vegetation are a common sight. Accommodation and food are great. And the most outstanding are the green sceneries of the surroundings.

Get a taxi from Cagayan de Oro city and go straight to Dahilayan, Manolo Fortich, Bukidnon without wasting hours of picking up passengers when you take a bus. Don’t be ashamed bargaining with the driver. I took it for Php.1,500 bargained fare instead of Php 2,000, one way only because I had my accommodation reserved at Dahilayan.

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Dahilayan Gardens 002                           Dahilayan Gardens 011

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“I Was Left By The Bus At Don Carlos Terminal”

Ending my impressive and enjoyable trip  to Dahilayan Forest Park had me  making some last-minute choices, either to go back to  Cagayan de Oro and book a flight home or continue the journey down south. My mind was weighing a  golden opportunity to pursuing further trips  as against seeking chances of returning  home and putting  the trip  in abeyance.  It would be costly for me if I’ll comeback and do the trip some other time.  I was already there.  And the  adventure can’t wait for a postponement.


Although a little bit apprehensive  as I felt the lack of  guts and drive to pursue it at that time,  speculations were high of having a terrorist attack of the civilians on the road  added some  feeling of nervousness as I was already having cold feet when  it was broadcasted lately. But I kept believing that I can make it and I will survive the hardships of milling around the southern parts of the country.

I  traveled by land. That meant by bus. I was quite excited although I was feeling a little of the jitters of the resurgence of   stress.

My desire to have some honest answers to my inquisitive mind on where to take a bus was troubling me but,  there was a barrage of unsolicited advice after I asked one passenger. One question leads to many responses. It would take two alternatives. One, to go north for a spacious,  roomy and comfortable ride but quite far or at the town’s highway which is a little bit near from where I was billeted, but not sure of a peaceful ride and certainly there would be a “mob rule”. Some people I’ve asked said that it would take  at least eight to ten hours  to reach General Santos city.   It would be late, dark and dangerous at the highway if I take a direct route. A local passenger gave some advice which led  to a conclusion of spending the night in Malaybalay,  Bukidnon and leave early in the morning for Gen San. That was a good idea.

Luckily, I was able to catch a ride in two hours of waiting and nearly had to stand for the ride. There was only one seat left.

The ride was smooth and pleasant and I’ve noticed that in every town there was a  terminal where buses, jeepneys and vans  can park to load and unload  passengers.

We’ve reached Don Carlos town and the bus dropped by the terminal for a few minutes. I waited just to observe how long the bus would wait for passengers to alight and new passengers to board. Five minutes have passed and still many passengers have not gone back to the bus. I waited some more minutes. Then my personal need came. I needed to take a piss. I rushed to the toilet and take comfort for a very short time.

When I got out, to my horror, the bus was gone from where it parked. Other buses parking there have the same color with the one that I was boarded so, to make sure, I ran and inspected their plates one by one. But they were not what I memorized. I panicked. Turning my head left to right many times and standing at my toes looking afar,  I saw the tail end of a bus turning at a corner. This might be the bus that I rode. I was not sure of it. But I ran to catch it as it made a right turn at the corner and a left turn at the next. As fast as I could, running and screaming to catch attention didn’t do any good. So I waved my hand signalling that I was left behind and  I was one of the passengers. As it made its last turn towards the highway, I knew the driver noticed my waving as I’ve seen his head glancing at the side mirror. It slowed down. I was catching my breath and my feet became heavy as if I was going to drag them behind. Then the bus stopped. Waiting for me  took several minutes as annoyance  flared on my face. The conductor just made a silent smirk at me casting a confused profile. He moved aside from the doorway and let me in to sit. Taking a deep breath and still catching some air for my lungs,   my heart kept pounding hard in its forte to a moderately roaring descend, perhaps with some misbeats, other passengers were looking at me with whimsical stare. Others looked at me with a humble grin.

On my seat, I couldn’t help but think about the incident. What, if I lost the bus.Could I take my things back? Could I catch it at the next terminal at the next town?

I thought that it was the conductor’s fault for he did not check if  the passengers were complete before leaving the terminal.

Hhmmm! It was my fault. That’s it. I did not seek his permission so they could have waited for me.