Bottled ※ Brain

I’ve pretty much grown up hearing comments like, “You really look like your brothers,” or “You really look like your brothers, but your nose is just flatter .” I had no qualms about those. After all, we’ve come from the same gene pool—my brothers and I. It just so happened that the Lord didn’t give me a more prominent nose bridge. But I still praise God for who I am—and how I look. After all, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made,” as David puts it in Psalm 139:14. I really think we should have the same conviction that David had: if the world doesn’t publish our faces in the front covers of Vogue or, uhm, Liwayway Magazine, then so what? Anyway, I decided to have a haircut a week ago. The barber asked me to remove my eyeglasses, which left me clueless as to what was happening to my hair because I couldn’t see my reflection clearly. When the haircut was done, I put on my eyeglasses and eventually realized that my haircut was actually shorter than my usual. Blame it on myopia. From then o

I've been introduced to Picasa (a photo organizer program) ages ago, but I only used it now. The orange was given to me by Schubert during his birthday. I was waiting outside the physics laboratory when I heard my stomach grumble. I texted him, "Schubs, happy birthday. Bring me some food. Thanks." Rey, my roommate, referring to this exquisite piece of fruit, later that night told me, "Ang sarap, Lance. Saan n'ya (Schubert) binili 'to?" I asked Schubert the same question when I saw him the next day. He said, "Di ko alam. Binigay lang din s'akin 'to. Haha." The quest for the orange tree has begun.

I just got back from class. My roommates have gone home for the long weekend—there’ll be no classes on Monday because it’s May 1. It’s supposed to be celebrated as the Labor Day, but there’s something weird about the first day of May that makes the street protesters extra hysterical. But this is a democracy; and while they expose themselves to the cancerous heat of the sun, I may just find myself lying in bed, dozing off to Dreamland. And so, let's talk about the heat. Without the blazing tornedo from my electric fan, my room would feel like a huge teapot. It’s so hot that I’d find myself sweating profusely. To rescue myself from heat stroke, I’d take a shower, but the moment I’d step out of the shower cubicle, the painful streaks of heat would assail me once more. The cycle would repeat after, say, four hours, depending on how much water has escaped my pores. The moral of this entry: make the Philippines the 51st state of America. That way, we’d have snow in December.

The rest of the family has gone to Bacolod as part of the “post-graduation tour” while I’m stuck in front of my PC, wondering why my room has suddenly become as hot as a teapot. Tita Mimi, one of my mother’s closest friends back in dental school, has invited them and offered to tour them around the island. I’ve been receiving SMS’s from my brothers who told me the moment their ship had arrived that they absolutely like the place and that they’ve been properly accommodated. I can only surmise that their stomachs are now full of chicken inasal, which is a delicious Bacolod specialty. And the reason why I’m writing this? This is the second time I’ve been left behind. The SECOND. The first time was two years ago when they went to Manila . I was in Iloilo then, participating in some contest, while they were all strolling around the polluted streets of the capital. When we had all gone home from the places we had been to, my brothers were all talking about what they did there an

While we were strolling around Baywalk in Roxas Boulevard, Manila, my brother decided to relieve himself of waste liquid matter, so we all accompanied him to the nearest rest room. While waiting, I was shocked to see this sign posted near the door. What a sign.

I mentioned in a previous post that I’m going to write a longer entry about the many things that have happened for the past few days. I want to accomplish this with as few words as possible, but if I don’t quite achieve that objective, then please, dear readers, bear with me. To constrain oneself from speaking loudly after all—or, in this case, writing a very long entry—is constipating. My family has come all over from Koronadal to attend my brother’s graduation last April 22, which happens to be my birthday and, yes, the Earth Day. By “family”, I mean Tatay, Nanay, Sean, and Auntie Netnet and my cousin, RR. Manong is the eldest, and by all means, should be the first one to graduate. He has, in fact, graduated on time, and the Lord’s grace, unmeasurable as we know it is, has even sprinkled added bonuses—his graduating as magna cum laude in English Studies and his having passed the interview for the UP College of Law where he will be enrolling next semester. The morning after the night

Today is my brother's college graduation. Also, it's my birthday. I've turned 19. There are a lot of things to praise the Lord for. I will write longer entries about them. Just to summarize: we attended Manong's graduation ceremonies, and had dinner with family friends and some dormmates thereafter. * * * Not in any particular order. Rey Tugade. Hazel Sobrepena. Shean Chiva. Jacquelyn Libatique. Vanessa Gumban . +639266102634 (sorry, the number's not in my phonebook). Schubert Malbas. Willie Loyola. Irene Lluisma. Manong Ralph . Sean. Iris Duhaylungsod. Golda Cainglet. Ate Lavinia De Velez. Angeli Borbe . Andrea Salvador. Wegs Pedroso . Charlene Yamat. Jaylord Tan Tian. Auntie Netnet. Kuya Arbie Magno. Kuya Caloy. Glenda Garcia. Razeru Tomacder . Paul Balite. Paul Velasco. Yakal Christian Fellowship. Ate Joan Romero. Kuya JD Dasmarinas. Loulou Halong Gid Zamora. Thank you for the greetings. Sorry, I haven't been able to reply to all of you via text, but suffice

Manong Ralph has told me time and again that he has always wanted to be a lawyer since time immemorial. I’d always tell him, “But law is boring. I just can’t imagine myself being bothered with other people’s legal woes,” and then he would shrug his shoulder and smile like a horse. Last year, he took the UP Law Achievement Exam, which happens to be—as they say—one of the toughest law school admissions exams in the country, if not the. By the grace of the God, he passed the first round and was scheduled for an interview. Weeks before such interview, he would call home to tell my parents of his anxieties, to which my parents would respond, “The grace of the Lord is sufficient, Ralph.” This is not surprising at all since we’ve all heard people tell of the inconceivably inconsiderate panels of lawyers that often make the interviewees shed buckets of tears in front of them. And only a small number of aspiring students could actually get into the colorful world of law school. But h

A shot of my Bible cover which my brother took during the pre-plenary talks we had with other campers. Mealtime. Sarap ng food. The campers. Not all of them though. Cell group discussion. I've just finished washing my face (in the photo, I'm carrying my yellow towel) when I heard someone playing the violin. I was so engrossed with the music that my consciousness only came back when I saw a white flash of light of the camera. Another stolen shot of me. While they were looking for their group assignments, I accidentally turned my back, and saw, to my utter delight (look at my smile), a camera. Again. Hand in hand, we walked to find the next clue. Our group--cleverly named Jewels in the Palace in honor of our team leader, Joel--was a klutz in doing this kind of thing. It took us ages to move from one place to another because either the human chain was cut or someone slipped. There's the Hulk. We are joyful because of Christ, the Real Treasure.

More than the fun I had in Kuya Don’s house in Pasig was the Church’s Youth Summer Camp I attended. For the first time, I’ve been to Tagaytay, with some 80 other young people. The camp theme was Finding the Real Treasure based on the Parable of the Hidden Treasure in Matthew 13: 44. I’ve realized finally that Jesus Christ is the real Treasure. His worth is untraceable and unfathomable, because human intellect cannot fully comprehend Him (Eph 1:18). I suppose we shall spend eternity unfathoming the riches of Christ. Christ Himself is the unsearchable wealth! He is the source of true wisdom, especially that which leads to salvation (Ps 112:7). He is also the source of our righteousness. Without Him, we’ll never be able to stand before a holy God (Job 9:2). He has also given us the Holy Spirit who sanctifies us to holiness and Christ-likeness (Gal 5: 16 – 17, 1 Cor 15: 51 – 53). Aside from these, He is the source of life (Jn 6:25), rest (Mt 11:28), peace (Jn 14:27), joy (Jn 16: 24), conte

I spent most of the short summer break I had in Kuya Don’s (my cousin’s) house in Pasig, with Ate Ann Mae, his wonderful wife, and the cute, little baby that goes by the name of Zach. In their house, I watched TV, read (finally!) Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath, and slept rather comfortably during lazy afternoons. On certain occasions, though, I’d find myself cuddling my nephew (Zach is my second-degree nephew, right?). He’s only nine months old, and while he seemed to have mastered the art of crawling, he has yet to master the art of spoken language. I determined to teach him a few things. I thought it exciting that his first words should not be da-da or ma-ma or any of those repetitive mononsyllabic combinations. I wanted him to say, “Ignorance of the law excuses no one.” That was what I’ve been telling him, and everytime I’d utter those words, he would beam with a smile that can melt the icebergs in Antarctica.

I had told myself, while packing my things into those large, brown boxes, that I would refrain, as much as possible, from straining my eyes for the duration of my ten-day break. Now, while writing this entry from an internet shop in EDSA Central Mall, I know I've eaten my words again: I've been breaking such resolve. Cable TV, Steinbeck, the computer. When summer class starts, there'll be no more TV. And CSI Las Vegas.

If you are the only evidence that Christ indeed lives, will others be convinced?

Dear Jef, I attended HR's Tagalog Service which started at 6:30. Manong and I came in late because we woke up late. How un-glorifying to the Lord that is. We should really endeavor to come early during Sundays. Our attitude towards punctuality reflects our attitude towards worship. Pastor Bob is in Bohol, speaking in a special service of one of the CCM (Communion of Christian Ministries, of which HR is a member) churches there. So it was Pastor Bong Bulusan from Batac, Ilocos Norte, a senior pastor from a CCM church there, who was requested to preach. He's in Manila for medication and for his sabbatical leave. Ang galing n'ya! He talked about how Christians ought to respond to the trials and tribulations that come their way. The text was Job 1. And it was wonderful, Jef. Oh, if only you were here, you would've loved the preaching, too. The Lord spoke to me deeply in this verse: "The Lord has given, the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." Ima