redesigndavid.me » Story

Slow Running, Sure Running

redesigndavid — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 14:24:39 +0000

I had a slow and painful run today. The cross-training I did last Friday did more harm than good. Because the basketball court was filled with people by the time we got there, I did neither stretchings nor warm ups. Whenever the ball would go out of bounds pausing the game, I’d feel my leg muscles tighten. But I was stubborn. I neglected my own advice to my students “We are no longer young. Our bodies will be in-shock with the sudden activity.” Mine, especially. My legs have always been sluggish to start work and have been consistently prone to injury due to lack of stretching. When I reached home, I iced my knees and my ankles while writing stitches. The next day I swathed them in a poultice of hirudoid and analgesic balm, sleeping most of the day to allow them rest. They weren’t really painful. I just wanted to take care of them. Part of their recuperation, in my quack-doctor mind, is to allow blood to flow through them or, in other words, allow them to have a light workout. I ran a considerably short distance with a considerably slow speed. 6 kmh. I couldn’t go any faster because I knew I might re-injure my knees real bad. After about 3 kilometers, I could feel my knees performing better. So I let them. I’d up my speed for a couple hundred meters then drop again. I feel none of the slight discomfort I had before the run. I hope it’ll be completely gone by tomorrow. I don’t mind slowing down. Maybe my younger self would have been very much frustrated. There were a hand full of runners who sped pass me like they were…

Stitches

redesigndavid — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 18:52:27 +0000

I was invited to basketball by some students. Since basketball could be a chance for me to crosstrain, I said yes. True enough, not ten minutes in the court I felt like giving up. My breathing was worse than when I run. But the game wasn’t the highlight of that night. JZ, a good friend and student, slipped while chasing after a ball to prevent it from going out of bounds. He lost his footing and sent his feet flying forwards until his back hit the ground. His shin caught the sharp edge of a planter surrounding the court, scraping it and cutting deep in some places. He said he was fine. We continued playing while he sat on the bench and the rest of us were breathing our lungs out. Before going home, JZ disappeared to clean his wound. He was gone longer than usual. And when he came back he said there was a cut that was too deep for mother nature to handle. For one, there seemed no slowing down to the blood’s profusion. It was obvious, he needed stitches. Since it was too late by then to use any bus and/or MRT and he lived near my place we decided to take a cab together so he could go down to a hospital on the way. On the way, I told him a story. An anecdote I know he’d be able to relate to was when I received the scar on my left leg. You see, on my left leg is a scar the shape of the letter i (in italicized times new roman, to be accurate). I received it when I was in grade 2. I was playing with my friends. On this particular day, we were playing tag…

Bad Dreams

redesigndavid — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 15:32:20 +0000

I’ve been having vivid dreams this last week that unnerve me for days after waking up. The first dream ended with me dying. The second, with someone else’s death. I will narrate both dreams here, not to entertain readers, but rather to dispell their effects upon me (I usually lose opinions upon subjects after setting putting them in writing). The first dream happened last week. It was a Wednesday or Thurseday, I am not sure. Probably even Friday. I was in the parking lot below our building. I was standing in one of the vacant parking spaces and in front of me was a guy with no hair. He was breathing heavy, making hissing sounds, staring at me, with dark brooding eyes. I said I was sorry. (Somehow I automatically knew I’ve done something). But his breathing became heavier and more frequent. I said it would never happen again. This enraged him even more. His face started to go red. It seems funny even to myself now that I think about it on hind-sight, but during the dream my heart felt like a train in full throttle. I was begging the guy for forgiveness, I wasn’t sure what for, but his face turned dark blue and then even purple. I dropped to my knees and pleaded him to understand that it will never happen again. I cried I’ll go back to the Philippines. Nothing assuaged his anger. By now he was already shaking with such fury. Then he took one full solid step toward me and swung his leg forward aiming for the side of my head. using my body as a giant tee. My ears reddened. But before I felt the blow, I woke up and discovered I only had 30 minutes…

More Precious Than Silver

redesigndavid — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 15:04:43 +0000

This is my nephew. On the right side edge of the picture is my sister humming “Lord.. you are.. more precious.. than silver..”

In His Time

redesigndavid — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 00:42:34 +0000

I am a huge fan of songs like Voice of Truth (Casting Crowns), More (Matthew West) and similar songs. These bands are, in my opinion, forging a new stage for the same message that has touched billions of lives in all of history. But curiously, the songs that have graced my devotions of late are songs that are considered classic by today’s standards. They are songs that I grew up listening to during Sunday worship before I was tall enough to see the P&W leaders on stage. It is for this reason I learned the hand-actions from watching my mom and my dad as they sang the song. Beautiful Beautiful, beautiful
Jesus is beautiful
And Jesus makes beautiful
Things of my life. Carefully touching me
Causing my eyes to see
And Jesus makes beautiful
Things of my life. Beautiful, beautiful
Jesus is beautiful
And Jesus makes beautiful
Things of my life. Carefully touching me
Causing my eyes to see
And Jesus makes beautiful
Things of my life. The second song is sorta like the matured version of the same message. In my devotion, as I sing, this song most often becomes the continuation of the first song. I sometimes wonder if they really are the same song split in two because as one they are too beautiful. In His Time In His time, in His time,
He makes all things beautiful, in His time,
Lord, please show me everyday,
As You’re teaching me Your way,
That You do just what You say, in Your time. In Your time, in Your time,
You make all things beautiful, in Your time.
Lord, my life to…

A Sedentary….. but non-Lethargic Life

redesigndavid — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 11:35:58 +0000

I was in the Philippines last week. I garnered a total of 9 people who commented on the present status of my mid-section’s girth. Method of communication varied. But they were mostly comic. There was one I knew working in a building I used to frequent in. When he saw me after 2 years there was a huge smile on his face. With all conviction right from the pits of his stomach, he said “Sir!!! You became fat!!!” I said “Thank you for your honestly.” He walked towards me. Again, this time with even greater enthusiasm and his head shaking in disbelief, he said “you’re soooo fat!” Another occasion was when a tipsy artist from my girlfriend’s team walked some distance just to tell me my silhouette was bulging like a tadpole. I asked if it was obvious. He said no. I said “I don’t believe you. You walked some distance to tell me I was fat. Now that we are near you say it ain’t obvious?” LOL!! My dad told me the same thing. My brothers and sisters told me the same thing. My brother in law told me the same thing. And they have good reason to do so. I went from a size 32 to a size 34. My brother in law told me it’s our sedentary life to blame. I hate to agree with him but it is the truth. I haven’t been running in 2 weeks months. The time I used to allot for my running was given to extra projects I committed myself to. There is just one left and I’ll be finishing this week. I can’t wait to start running again. When the time comes, I could also start scripting again. While I was contemplating on…

The Attic

redesigndavid — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 15:48:26 +0000

My girlfriend gave me a visit, a surprise visit, last Friday. I had the most beautiful time. We went to so many places. We were together the whole time, couldn’t spare a moment apart. She took time off from work and tried to surprise me. She said she was in Cavite. But it wasn’t true. I couldn’t believe she came. She said needed me to buy something from Heeren. She needed it bought now. And I sensed a funny lingering in her voice. I said I’ll buy it now. I left the office without my bag. I was so happy, I was running in the sidewalks. I was beyond happy; I was ecstatic. I was overflowing with joy. Every minute was heaven. For the first time in such a long time, I felt whole again. Yesterday, she went back. It was the fastest weekend I ever had. Like I just took one lung-full of air and then it was done. Melancholy pervaded the air ever since PR504 took to the skies. The same blues I conquered caused by living away from loved ones is back. I badly need strength. I have students depending on me now, so please, allow me, no matter how inappropriate this would be for some, to unload. I need to let people know how much I love her. I wanna shout it for all the world to hear. I would shout as loud as I can if I could make my declaration fly 2390 kms across oceans, but I can’t. So instead let me share an excerpt of one of my billet douxes for her. Tinay, This letter is in your hands for one reason and one reason alone. It means, by now, all hope is lost. I waited and nothing happened. That’s why, I thought,…

Importance

redesigndavid — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 00:37:12 +0000

The last drops of rain were still falling when I went out to run. I was first on the footpath beside the river. Ringlets overlapped each other in the water. I was already on my way back when my neighbors started coming out for their runs. I had mine, alone. The entire footpath to myself. No one to judge my stride. No one to inspect my breathing. No one but myself. I’m thinking. Last week was hell. I had to lend myself to three, no four, classes and I had some stuff of my own to finish. I knew that even if I satisfy one class, there will be another to complain. If I succeed making all happy, there will be an issue somewhere; there always is. Like this time, it was a network virus attack. If I solve that, there’s still my stuff to do, that I couldn’t do. And if for some miracle, I finish everything, I still need time for myself and my love ones. That was last week. Before Friday ended, I told myself “Saturday, we binge.” So I indulged myself in two ways. First off: I loaded myself with junk food. Lots of it. (I think my initial objective was to make myself sick for Monday. Failed.) Next, I had an iPhone software download spree. And this was actually helpful. And I thought of sharing my insight. These are my findings: PocketMoney. This app is a lifesaver. I’ve been using it for less than a week, and I think it has saved me at least 5 dollars already. My main problem with other similar apps is they cannot handle multiple accounts. And multiple accounts is an essential to anybody. I’d even say that everyone with a bank account…

Where are you JD?

redesigndavid — Sun, 03 May 2009 10:07:50 +0000

The last time I was in the Philippines was the turn of the year 2009. I left on the third of that year, this year. If I count, I learn that I’ve been away for more than a hundred days. The pain of missing family and loved ones can become too much. Talking to my girlfriend through skype is great, but it becomes more and more apparent how limited skype is. Often, you just want to hold hands and keep quiet. Even more often, the neccessity for a hug is too great to ignore. I could name a good twenty quarrels we had that I knew would never had happen if only we were together. Now, I’m not saying we’d be perfect if we were living in the same island. What I’m saying is we are handicapped, and that I miss her oh-so-much!!! This prompted me to give her a surprise visit a couple weeks ago. Right when she least expected, I went home. I needed an excuse to see her in her office. So I pretended to be one of their clients. An unwanted client. Boy was she rude! I got myself a local sim card, something she wouldn’t expect me to do cuz I never did that before. I called her up in their office and pretended to be a church mate who was asking to have shirts made. She did not recognize my voice. She was trying to end the conversation when she paused. On my end of the line I couldn’t tell what was happenning. Was she cut off or was she analyzing? Nothing but silence. Then I heard a faint laugh that grew loud until it was deafening. Sweet melody!! Made butterflies fly in the unkempt garden of my heart.…

About Me

redesigndavid — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 19:48:40 +0000

I am a boy who grew up in a family who stressed national piety more than household chores. My dad taught us during dinner that if you are blessed, if you get financial success so that your life is better and easier than your countrymen, it is your moral obligation to alleviate the situation and give back to your country. Sadly, we are one of a few families that understand this concept and hopefully I hope to become a prime mover in my time. In my country, the apex of the pyramid describing the social classes is excruciatingly sharp. It is so sharp, in fact, that I am sure Heaven will get pierced if ever it sits down to rest. Those who have the power to change systems, do nothing to help my people. In fact, their creativity seems to do no more than develop ingenious ways to further the bleeding of my country-men, sucking on it like a dry bone. Our local entertainment industry is nothing but a farce, used only to generate more income for those and by those who are already on top. They exalt stupidity so that the poor of today will not think and not see the better life which heroes have paid for with their deaths in the past. Rizal was right when he saw the inhumanity employed by the Spaniards when they kept us ‘indios’ by reserving education only for those who could afford it, and he acted upon it. What Rizal failed to prepare for is the inhumanity that we Filipinos will commit to ourselves, making stupidity an ‘in’ thing by use of the most prevalent means of communication, the television. But who could have prepared for such a tragedy? These imbeciles do not see that by allowing…

Ratatouille: Trips Back Memory Lane

redesigndavid — Wed, 29 Aug 2007 04:14:41 +0000

I just saw Ratatouille last Sunday with my classmates. I know we are quite late but please don’t bash yet cuz we saw the movie during sneak peak. The rest of Singapore will have to wait til Aug 30. I spent the equivalent of 500 pesos for my ticket and popcorn, but the movie was well worth it. Since I am gonna be one of the last to see the movie, maybe I should lead everyone to a trip down memory lane before I continue. Here are words to my favorite part in the movie: In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. Last night, I experienced something new, an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau’s famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize that only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine more humble origins than those…

Dreaming Blues

redesigndavid — Thu, 19 Jul 2007 10:58:08 +0000

My last stop today was to the GNC shop. They called to notify me that my membership card is ready for pickup. While looking at their products, I saw their Time Release Melatonin was on a 30% off sale. I knew what Melatonin was. I considered buying it because I knew I’ll be needing it soon when my work starts. The sales lady told me she was also taking the sleep enhancer and that her sleep was never this refreshing. I asked if she felt great in the morning. She smiled to convey her delight as she remembers her mornings with Melatonin. I bought one bottle and on my way home I realized that here in Singapore the people I get to talk to the most (aside from my sister) are the people I transact business with. Today alone I spent 45 minutes talking to different taxi drivers, 20 minutes talking to the Indian-Singaporean guy from the Fedex about their prices, 30 minutes just talking to the GNC lady about Melatonin (actually a hormone that we already produce in our brains unaided) and the countless other sales ladies about countless other unimportant details. I felt odd (and I had to feign a happy message) going home because I realized how much I miss socializing with friends and family. I have seen 4 movies alone; Eating out has meant eating alone, or, on occasion, sharing a table with a complete stranger with a face be-speckled with pimples, thick-rimmed spectacles, consuming grease-laden pork, wearing office long-sleeves; My new phone, a motorola that I got for free after getting a Singtel line that I thought would help me connect has been rarely used since it’s purchase. Hence, my fedex. Home is where the heart is. Cliché or not. So,…

Family Roots

redesigndavid — Wed, 11 Jul 2007 11:02:45 +0000

It was an uneventful day here in Singapore. It was, as my sister said (as she used a quote from my dad) as exciting as watching the grass grow. We took a stroll down to one of the shops to get some food to munch on. We brought along her kids, Christine and Nikki. While having dinner, my sister told me an amazing story of a unique connection between her and a friend. I will now retell the story in my perspective with a little spice. Haha! My sister’s name is Monique. I call her ate monique (mo’nick). She is ten years older than me. Born on the year of the Marshal law, 1972. Our parents tell us, she was this close (gesturing a tiny unidentified invisible item with their fingers in the air) to being christened Marsha. Good thing, it never happened or no one would have taken her seriously in life. The name Marsha would have been so funny, so john-and-marsha-ish. (No real problem with the classic television show, I just don’t want it) Anyway, since she was ten years older than I am, she was old enough to take care of me. This evening she reminded me of the times she was brushing my all-brown teeth (yes, I used to have tartar for teeth. Or to put it lightly, some have milk teeth, I had chocolate teeth. Good thing all or most of my childhood pictures were wiped-out in one of the floods that submerged my childhood home in Marikina. The only evidence left is my present set of teeth. Huge, because when my first permanent incisor came out, it was the only white tooth I had. It was like a lone tree in a field…

14 Day Count Down

redesigndavid — Sat, 07 Jul 2007 12:46:42 +0000

School won’t start till another 2 weeks. So I have till then to switch from wanderer to well-directed. So far, it’s been quite distracting. Also, a day or two after the start of school, Ratatouille will be showing. Wonderful! That would offer some good inspiration for me and my (to-be) classmates. Wow! I already feel close to be classmates, I haven’t even met them yet. Let us just say, I am so sure. Last night, while attending ReSoul Mosaic @ Suntec City Convention Centre, God talked to me about my call. I am so grateful! He talked to me through the words of Mordecai “what if, you are placed in that position for this very reason, to save Israel.”

I don't wanna live on the moon

redesigndavid — Wed, 06 Jun 2007 12:51:08 +0000

Today, I woke up with a song in my heart. I did not know that a song that touched me as a young kid for its soft endearing melody and captivating scenery would resurface in my well of memories and encapsulate in 2 minutes and 17 seconds the reason why I will miss my country, my home, my family, my loved ones and my friends. Written by Jeff Moss
1978 Festival Attractions, Inc. (ASCAP)
Sung by Ernie (Jim Henson)
Well, I’d like to visit the moon
On a rocket ship high in the air
Yes, I’d like to visit the moon
But I don’t think I’d like to live there
Though I’d like to look down at the earth from above
I would miss all the places and people I love
So although I might like it for one afternoon
I don’t want to live on the moon I’d like to travel under the sea
I could meet all the fish everywhere
Yes, I’d travel under the sea
But I don’t think I’d like to live there
I might stay for a day there if I had my wish
But there’s not much to do when your friends are all fish
And an oyster and clam aren’t real family
So I don’t want to live in the sea I’d like to visit the jungle, hear the lions roar
Go back in time and meet a dinosaur
There’s so many strange places I’d like to be
But none of them permanently So if I should visit the moon
Well, I’ll dance on a moonbeam and then
I will make a wish on a star

Lucky Us!

redesigndavid — Wed, 23 May 2007 12:53:29 +0000

Last week, I saw the movie ‘Lucky You’ with my family. Our dinner after the movie turned out to be a discussion on the rudiments of the game of poker. That discussion inspired a certain curiosity for the game in me and my siblings. So today, when we went to Bonifacio High Street just to check some shops, we should have avoided Hobbes and Landes. Because when we did, we saw a set of poker chips that my sister⎯who is impulsive like me⎯ couldn’t resist not buying. The chips were not bad for PHP800. It did not look cheap, one bit. The chips were extra thick. They felt heavy in your hands and they seemed flashy stacked high during games, inspiring a grin for the chip leader during games, while the set’s quality inspired us. We felt like professionals despite our rookie mistakes. Before we began, we had to check the internet to make sure our rules were sound. We started playing when we arrived home at around 9pm and finished 5 hours after. Imagine! We couldn’t stop and we probably would have continued playing until the rooster’s crow if it weren’t for our work. We had the time of our lives! At least, I did. The last time the three of us played together like that was before any of us became teenagers. The youngest amongst us now is 22. I’m gonna miss my siblings (when I leave for Singapore). I love those two! Jean-jean and Matt.

Cheese, Jam and Butter

redesigndavid — Wed, 16 May 2007 12:55:41 +0000

This story began one early morning, before the sun started shining, and I was about to leave for Changgi airport. I was having breakfast with my sister in Singapore. We were having a lovely chat. Just something to make sure nothing is left unsaid. After finishing my bread with butter and jam, my sister stood and said she had something she wanted me to taste before I left. She opened her refrigerator and brought out something shaped like a block covered with tough aluminum, made messy by cheese that seemed to escape from the inside. She said it was philadelphia cheese. Okay. I stood up, got my butter and jam covered knife and, without opening the cheese’s covering, scraped a little of the cheese on the outside using the part of the knife free from butter and jam. It tasted like butter and a little waxy. She said it shouldn’t so I tried again. I took a slightly bigger bit. But the taste of the second was no different from the first. She said I must be tasting the butter from my knife so I opened the wrapper and saw that the cheese had some herbal thing embedded in it. I showed it to my sister and asked if it was herbal cheese. She laughed and apologized to me. Upon closer examination, I realized the herbal growth I noticed was actually molds that spoiled the cheese. I drank a couple glasses of water, scared I might get food poisoning. But I couldn’t wait any longer for medication because my plane was about to leave. My flight was hassle free. I was home in the Philippines safely. The day after, I experienced vertigo like symptoms. I did some research and learned sometimes food poisoning could cause stomach…

Running, Flight, Dreaming and Superman

redesigndavid — Sat, 31 Dec 2005 12:58:10 +0000

The elements of life weren’t always plotting against me. I remember the days of boyhood. I did not have a single care in the world. I attended kindergarten and elementary in a big Chinese school of 8 sections per batch. There were large lawns surrounding our school-building within the campus walls. The population was so big they had to divide recess sessions into 2 batches of four classes to ensure order in canteens. But the kids did not go to the cafeteria. A throng of bustling boys would run into the grass fields to play games that involved all sorts of running. I made sure I led them. I was the fastest runner in our block and in our batch. I would fly through the lawns with my arms stretched sideways while others looked to me with admiration for my speed and grace. I was like a gazelle springing from here to there to everywhere. Sometimes I would even compete with my friends in the higher levels and still emerge winner. And if I am not running in the fields I am running in one of the long halls being chased by a ticked-off female classmate that’s off to have a grab at my hair. She will pull and tug up until she gets satisfied. All because I was a pest. I’ll be running for my life like a regular fly, and, in case, I get caught, it doesn’t matter. To simply know and to feel the anger you create pestering someone is to know the meaning of the Life for a fly. Despite the hand with a vice-like grip clenched at your hair, dragging you down the stairs, it still makes your head swell. Maybe the fly experiences swelling too before it goes splat under…

Super-heroes Defining Moment

redesigndavid — Wed, 05 Jan 2005 13:00:28 +0000

I had been a Superman fan all my life. I believe there is truth in those who say sometimes the only reason Smallville does as well as it does is because people are starving to see anything remotely Superman on screen again, that is not animated [zerohero Dec 16 04]. Hope. Justice. The American Way. What are they? They are principles the red cape stood for. They are virtues thinning out in our society. (The American way, in my definition, is the great experiment: a group of people sailing out to the unknown world so they could worship their God without restriction) After the turn of the Millennium, a couple heart-breakers struck. We have the 911, the 511 in Spain (train attack), the War in Iraq that has been purported as Bush’s way to make money, and the recent Tsunami with death tolls that make mice out of men. It is true terrorists live in seclusion, but their very existence influence the people’s thinking into degenerating the value of being good, against evil. People begin asking, is it really better to be in the goodie-goodie side? Being good is then equated to being vulnerable. Cheating becomes a more likely solution. Self-protection becomes a primary virtue. That is why, Superman is missed. Smallville shows a character with strength enough to win every gold in the olympics yet chooses to play alone in his farm where he can hurt no one. (In Season four, he starts playing football, but uses energy enough only to make their team win by a point or two.) Everyone knows Superman would get everything he wants if he’d just reveal himself completely. If he’d go all out, he’d rule the world. Instead, he helps in the farm, under the tutelage of…

A Series of Unplanned Events

redesigndavid — Tue, 28 Dec 2004 13:00:31 +0000

December 27, 2004. Just a couple of days before the turning of the year. I woke up to a regular holiday in our home in Marikina. It was chilly, with the helpers cleaning the house, my Mom supervising and making things hard for everyone, my sister in front of the tube, my brother somewhere in the house, and me, in front of the computer, trying to fix my blogging template when my Dad arrived from Planet Infinity. The only thing I had planned was the Christmas party the next day with Citylights. He brought home a quarter slice of jack-fruit and had us munch into it and then he said “Get dressed! We’ll have an adventure today.” No one knew where we’d go. He said it’s best to do things unplanned. We were like fugitives who were just found out by the authorities and we had to leave before the cops roll in to block all ways to the neighboring states. A couple of hours later, we were, 5 of us, in Subic. The family got off the vehicle in front of the Courtyard and left me with the task to park. Some day today turned out to be I told myself. My butt was numbing after that long ride. With the sun down, the night has just started, anything could happen and will happen. There were no available slots near the hotel so I had to go far a bit to park. When I got out of the van, what I saw touched my heart. I landed on sand with my first step. I heard the whisper of waves caressing the sand. I wanted to drop and worship the Lord on the spot. It was one of those moments, if you have someone special held…

Spirit of Christmas

redesigndavid — Sat, 25 Dec 2004 13:02:19 +0000

The Spirit of Christmas is about giving, not receiving, they say. I disagree, or rather, I think it doesn’t cut it quite yet. It’s too small scale, too temporal. The Spirit of Christmas is more about sacrifice and growth. Which I think explains the recurring motif of reds and greens. Reds represent blood and sacrifice, while the green represents growth. Remember its about the King of kings stooping down and giving life and light to the world? Reds and Greens. Yes, He gave. But He did not give to make friends happy. He gave because he loved and His love corrected plenty. Giving to carolers only encourage them to ask some more. In their heads they’d do this again next Christmas and they’d invite more friends and invite their children and everyone in the family. It’s like a disease. And what happens between Christmas Seasons? They slack around, going with the flow, relaxing. They don’t feel bad about their condition and they feel no conviction to improve life. Next Christmas they’d be back in your doorstep, asking for more, and if you ask why they did not do anything about their condition? They say they chose this lifestyle, a lifestyle of alms. You want to celebrate Christmas? Bite your lips and say ‘no’. It’s painful. But it has to be. Instead go get those policemen gifts. Guards deserve them, they keep you safe and secure all year round. Teachers, taught you life. Gasoline boys work 8 hours a day for a measly 200 pesos that could only pretend to satisfy the bills they’d get once the effects of the fumes they inhale from work kicks in. Janitors watch their employers lifestyle and can’t help but compare, but they do their jobs with heavy hearts still.…