Bohol plunge

My friends and I visited Bohol for a vacation. They came a day earlier which was all right since I already had a tour in Bohol as a side track from work. For my first day (and their second day), we visited an adventure camp in Danao, four hours away from the provincial capital Tagbilaran City.

So far, one of the craziest thing I ever did. An easier version of bungee jump, the plunge is a swing adventure feature in E.A.T. Danao mounted over a 200 meter high and 300 meter wide gorge.

Oh, and did I mention? I am acrophobic.But yeah, it was fun.

An inspiring painter

Local news reported inspirational Filipino painter Joey Velasco passed away on July 20. He died of kidney cancer complications yesterday afternoon.

I had the privilege to interview the great artist last year for a personality profile to be published in the magazine I was then working with. He warmly invited us to his meticulously designed home. As we entered his house, much of his paintings were leaned against every wall as they were freshly taken out of the package from an exhibit in Cebu.

He truly had an amazing story to tell, much of which were already featured in the news (e.g. Probe Profiles). He was not born an artist nor did he never had formal training in painting. He described this talent as a sudden God-given gift that had saved him and could save others by sharing through visuals of the Lord’s love.

I asked him if anyone had offered to buy his paintings. He told us of a time a great patron wanted to buy his most famous painting Hapag ng Pag-asa. He was at the point of selling his painting when his grade school son left a note for him. I had the privilege to read his son’s letter which he took out from his pocket aloud for the group.

His son, only seven then, begged his dad not to sell the painting to anyone as he will work hard to earn a great deal of money to be able to buy painting. I remember myself in tears as I handed the letter back to Joey.

Early this year, he gave me a call. It was even embarrassing that I forgot who he was at that moment of the call and he had to remind me that he was “the painter”. We talked a few about the article on him and he then asked me of my work in the magazine. When I mentioned that I had already left that job, he immediately mentioned that he intended to ask that I write for him a few essays on his paintings. He wanted to provide an artist perspective of his paintings through words.

I’ve always wanted to get back to him on that as he said there will be another time for that. Obviously, there will not be another time but his offer then inspired me to try art reviews as well.

I will be posting a few essays on some of his paintings that touched me as a tribute to the painter that has inspired me to write.

Goodbye

So much has happened. So many things have to be kept hidden. Then again, God's sense of humor will reveal all that we try to deny.

I have been waiting that the story would come from you, but I guess you have no intention to tell me. Make me a fool, make me believe that nothing has changed and nothing will. Keep on denying but I would rather live my life better than this.

You said you were going. I'm glad you are. It will give me the chance I have been waiting for quite some time now.

I've been wanting to go. I'm fed up waiting for your story. I'm so tired of you.

When you come back, I won't be there to greet you. So take care of yourself and make the right decisions. Better yet, ask someone for advice because you don't know how to decide. You are selfish and short-minded, you don't know what your actions can lead to, the same way you did not know how you almost made me stumble.

But I will stand up from waiting for you practically half of my life. And now, I desire to meet someone else now, someone who will save me from this lonely life and miseries.

I hope you will be a better person after two years. I hope you do well. And I promise you, I will.

Goodbye.

too much

"I seriously don't enjoy spending a whole day at the office with our boss. There's just too much pressure, too much stress," my office-mate exclaimed as we got out of the little green gate and walked towards the main street late in the afternoon.

Welcome to my world

It's quite often that I find myself alone, with my boss. And pressure is an understatement to the ambiance he develops whenever he's there. With a day-at-a-time strategy to keep the business going, our boss has a tendency to make me do things that just suddenly popped out of his head. This, of course, sidetracks to the real work I was paid to do.

And so, my job description is not just editing but slash slash.

Lately, it's been difficult. Hopefully, it does not get worse, though.

work blooper

My boss asked me to follow up on certain malls regarding our proposal to be able to sell the magazine at their place. I started calling their offices Tuesday and never got a hold on any of them. I tried calling Music Museum this afternoon and have I made a major blooper!

Imagine a small room with tables at every corner. At the rightmost corner of the room is where all the printers and telephones are. The table right next to this is my boss', who was at that moment writing emails to practically everyone there is in his address book.

I went to the phone and dialed the number. Somebody answered.

"Hello? Is Ms. Soriano there?"

"Who is this?"

"This is Martha, from BusinessWorld-"

My boss stared at me.

three drops of tears

It was midday and I was at work. Though I know there is so much that needs to be done, it wasn't as immediate as the term "now" would imply. Besides, procrastination is a stage we all enjoy, especially when you have tons of work.

Seeing myself at that stage, I looked for a friend to talk to. One friend, online in Facebook, sent me a message. This was the distraction I needed. We talked about a lot of things that afternoon.

Of course, there were times my boss would give me instructions and thoughts on the issues the magazine has to cover. Just as he was about to leave, he wanted me to forward all the emails I sent to possible contributors. This is aside from the tag line for the magazine he wanted me to think of, and the blog posts and updates of vendors, activities and what else is there that he wanted me to upload. Obviously, I have not done a single one of them. Maybe he realized I wasn't doing anything work-related, I thought to myself.

I looked back at my computer to see if my friend had written any message right after my boss gave his talk.

And there I read my friend's message: "He left."

I knew he was leaving. God has been telling me for the past year that this will be happening, and I guess I should have been expectant of such a message. Besides, he himself told me he was, that is, four months ago.

Actually, it was the only thing he told me regarding this trip he is having. I must admit, I tried to dig a little deeper, but I guess I'm not as skilled as I thought I'd be. Without having any idea of what is to happen next, that is aside from his leaving, it only made me feel that I should be more than the unresponded messages.

"He left."

I left the room in fear of a public display of whatever reaction I was going to have. I rushed towards the comfort room to have more privacy and started to call God. I went down on my knees to hear what He was to say. And there were tear drops.

One.

Two.

Three.

I stood up, checking myself in the mirror if the drops had made a smudge of my make-up. There were so much to do, writers to contact, blog posts to write. I looked at myself in the mirror once more and smiled. If I were the unresponded messages, you mean nothing more than just three drops of tears, easily wiped out and barely noticed.

saying goodbye officially

I received a text message from the spokesperson this morning. Although I have been out of the beat for about a month now, I have not really told him that I had resigned. I guess I'm just a coward to even say goodbye.

It really doesn't matter if I got subtly kicked out of my job. It was probably more of a feeling of failing him despite the efforts he had put up to help me get a story published. If I were given the choice, I would want to go back to the foreign affairs beat. And if I keep telling myself that I will eventually be able to do so, I don't really have to say goodbye. Then again, who knows when I'll be coming back, or if I am coming back at all.

For the first time after so long, I wrote a message telling him I resigned recently and that I'm very thankful for every bit of help he has given me. At first, he was very formal of his responses, instructing me what to do to get me out of the list of accredited reporters. I commented on this instruction and said my thanks and holiday greetings again. He then greeted me a merry christmas.

I was in line waiting for a manicurist at the parlor when the exchange of messages took place. I really felt I wanted to cry. I've finally let go.