“I no longer have patience for certain things, not because I’ve become arrogant, but simply because I reached a point in my life where I do not want to waste more time with what displeases me or hurts me. I have no patience for cynicism, excessive criticism and demands of any nature. I lost the will to please those who do not like me, to love those who do not love me and to smile at those who do not want to smile at me. I no longer spend a single minute on those who lie or want to manipulate. I decided not to coexist anymore with pretense, hypocrisy, dishonesty and cheap praise. I do not tolerate selective erudition nor academic arrogance. I do not adjust either to popular gossiping. I hate conflict and comparisons. I believe in a world of opposites and that’s why I avoid people with rigid and inflexible personalities. In friendship I dislike the lack of loyalty and betrayal. I do not get along with those who do not know how to give a compliment or a word of encouragement. Exaggerations bore me and I have difficulty accepting those who do not like animals. And on top of everything I have no patience for anyone who does not deserve my patience.”
(photo from gregtozian.com)
I don’t know what came over me but last Monday I felt the urge to run (yes, you can consider this as proof that miracles do happen). Good thing there’s a park near work with a jogging path and I did one round of brisk walking, two rounds of running, and 2 rounds of brisk walking plus cool down–yeah, this person who used her gym membership no more than 10 times in three years.
Tuesday morning was hell with all the lactic acid coursing through my rarely challenged muscles but I knew I had to get back on the proverbial saddle again. This evening I laced up my pristine white running shoes and was psyching my self to run again but lo and behold it started to rain halfway to the park. The thought of putting this off to another day was so strong but I knew that I had to do this.
So I ran. I ran like crazy until the sweat mixed with the rain that ran down my face and made my eyes sting. I ran until I felt my lungs were going to burst and my legs were going to give way.
Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head was on repeat in my iPod the whole time and it just felt so right. I made the right decision.
(photo courtesy of brokenheartedrunner.com)
I saw you near the elevators today and I have to admit you still look good–different, but definitely good, after almost 30 years. I didn’t immediately recognize you because you’re much leaner now, more handsome than cute if I will be asked to describe you.
How are you? I saw the recognition in your eyes. Do you remember? I do. You were my so-called “puppy love”, the very first person who made by go THUMP THUMP THUMP. It was the summer after 3rd grade when we first saw each other. You were 10, I was 9. I was hanging out with some friends who lived on the same street that you did and you passed by on your bike. It was a blue Shimano racer, I remember, and our eyes were on each other until you disappear around the corner.
I did not know what I felt then because it was the first time that I was attracted to somebody of the opposite sex. I couldn’t put a name on the giddy feeling that I had with just the thought of seeing you around our village but one thing I was sure of was that it was a magical summer.
But summers end, kids grow up and the thrill of young love eventually fades as ours did when school started. Those were the days when cellphones and the internet were not yet available and as the days between catching a glimpse of each other became longer we eventually lost touch. Your family moved away and ours eventually did.
Thirty years later here we are in an elevator hallway filled with strangers and I look at you–no more than 10 feet away–and I still get that giddy feeling. Not because I am still attracted to you but because you reminded me how good young love feels.
I still remember.
This will probably happen only once in my lifetime:
Lifestyle Asia June 2013
Long before Tito, Vic and Joey (Eat Bulaga) and the controversial Willie Revillame, the TV game show genre was lorded over by Pepe Pimentel (or Tito Pepe to us 70s and 80s kids). His show was named Kwarta O Kahon and the mechanics were pretty straightforward–you just have to choose between the cash offered by Tito Pepe or the mysterious box that could contain something far more valuable than the cash or something trivial such as a pair of chopsticks.
Similar to today’s game shows, there were pretty lady co-hosts and some singing and dancing but nothing overtly sexual (walang Spaghetti na pababa!). Tito Pepe also did not resort to making the contestants cry while narrating their sob stories and there were no scandals during his day. Although he always portrayed himself as the ever-suffering victim of his
monster mother-in-law, I read somewhere that he had a very good relationship with his mother-in-law in real life.
Yesterday the news broke out that Tito Pepe was found unconscious in his bathroom with a wound to his head. He was later pronounced dead although doctors were still trying to determine if cause of death was the head injury (perhaps he slipped and bumped his head) or a heart attack. Although Tito Pepe has been out of the limelight in the last few years the news still made me sad because another icon from my childhood is gone.
Goodbye, Tito Pepe. Have fun in the afterlife. Maybe there the kahon will always have the jackpot.
*photo from video48.blogspot.com