Running In People's Park

I've been jogging at People's Park for quite some time now. A weekend warrior, I've made it a point to jog either on Saturday or Sunday. I've stuck to my routine of doing twelve laps of jogging and the thirteenth lap devoted to an all-out, lung-bursting sprint.

I guess I've moved on from joining fun runs to simply running for free.

People's Park really is a good idea. And I'm amazed at how many people have taken advantage of its proximity and ambiance to work on their health. Every weekend, it's always a crowd in the park: people going through the free aerobics class every morning, athletes shadow boxing, arnis enthusiasts dueling with their sticks, teenagers playing badminton, models doing photo shoots, and, of course, runners jogging around the oval.

It's always more encouraging when you're with a group of strangers who share the same dedication to a healthy lifestyle. Plus, there are some pretty girls out there in the park too.

Life is good.

Bed And Breakfast

I have a book at home for those willing to start a bed and breakfast business. Mama is also interested in starting one when she retires.

What's the appeal, really? Well, apart from the additional income, it's a business that brings you the best opportunity to meet new people. I'm imagining lazy breakfasts with my guests, tourists from all walks of life. That's fun, isn't it?

Cuss Words

My first cuss word was "shit". When my family was still living in Bangkal, my siblings and I belted this out a lot. Shit, shit, shit. It seemed cool; it was English and it was pretty simple to pronounce too.

Then, when I grew up, I tried to become different and succeeded. Whereas my contemporaries were content with "putang ina", "fuck", "suck it", I was privately whispering "shix" and "fricative" (an actual word, mind you) every time reality frustrated me.

Nowadays, my repertoire  of bad words includes "gulay", "shatong", the common "bwisit" and "leche", and "leche flan". If I feel like it, I might venture into uttering "pusang iring cat meow meow" (something I got from Michael Palarpalar) just to make an impression on some people.

I have to admit that, despite my daily commitment not to say bad words, I still do. It's a habit that's hard to kick. On top of that, there's something in these words which make them wickedly fun to say because, to be honest, by themselves, they cannot be considered as cuss words, just ordinary terms used in an unusual context.

Now, when it comes to cuss words, I do have some rules I adhere to. I never use "putang ina" because it's insulting to mothers (I remember posting about this some time ago). I never use "fuck" because it's too mainstream (plus, most people don't know the actual origin of the word anyway. I should probably write that down in another post). I don't use "bitch" because it's sexist and demeaning to the dogs. Most especially, I try to refrain from using "shit" nowadays because some people already consider me to be above that (I'm entertaining priesthood, remember?).

To end, I do hope that people might just be a little bit more creative when it comes to cuss words. Frankly, I'm tired of hearing the same "shit" over and over again. Really, it pays to be different.

Skinhead

I feel fresh. It's been a long time since I've cut my hair this short.

I can cite some reasons, most of them practical, why I've decided to adopt the haircut I'd had back when I was in elementary. First, it saves me on shampoo. Second, I'm too lazy to comb my hair. Third, I don't use hair gel so the crown can be a bit unruly sometimes, Third, my hairline is receding (or so I think). Short hair  should avert or at least delay the inevitable (my Papa's hairline is my crystal ball right now). Fourth, it looks astig, the sort of haircut that every man should have at least once in his lifetime. Fifth, it looks different.

I think I'll again be sporting this look from now on.

Judging

The pther friday, a text message made my day. It was from Mel:

Hi Pao! Pwede ka nako iinvite as judge sa variety show contest sa akong mga students this Oct. 15, 5-10PM? I know you probably have work, pero just giving it a shot.:)

After thirty seconds of savoring the thought (in Bisaya, "gabukad ug atay"), I promptly declined the invitation, citing that I had an exam that day (which was true) and wasn't really up to it (which was true also). Mel graciously accepted it by texting back that she's found someone else.

I didn't know what made her think that I could judge, apart from the fact that we knew each other, but I got to think how odd it must feel if I ever get to judge something. It's inherent in everyone to judge performances but one must know what is actually being performed to become a good judge.

For instance, one can never appreciate art, let alone judge, if one is not an artist to begin with. One truly appreciates paintings if one knows how skilled one must be to paint. One truly appreciates dance if one knows how freakishly hard some moves are.

Indeed, the prospect of judging must humble one to become introspective enough to ask:  am I really good enough to judge?

For me, the answer is no. But then again, I belong on the stage, not in front of it.

Echus.