O’ the Irony

Tree Planting


This photo above represents one of the great ironies I have been encountering for the past few months. It’s a tree planting project, which sounds a lot better than it looks. As you can see, there is a baby bush in the middle of a square fenced by, wait for it,…

Yes, wood.

Painted wood nailed to each other. Pieces of which compose another tree, dramatically cut down to fence a smaller would-be tree. What a waste of wood, trees, and effort this has been, and to think that there are more of these fenced plants around Manila – a whole lot, I daresay.

I am positive that cutting down trees to plant new ones isn’t reforestation really, but that’s just me.


Sometimes, when I have quite a long bus ride home, I listen to Insomnia and find myself asleep.


Key is lost. Look for key. Key still lost. Trace my steps. Find lost book. Find lost scissors. Find lost bourbon. Find the city of Atlantis. Key still lost. Trace my steps. Find my soul. Find my purpose. Find enlightenment. Key still lost. Give up. Phone is lost. Look for phone. Phone still lost. Trace my steps. Find key. Phone still lost.


A good thing you just didn’t take.



One morning, I had the most uncomfortable and lengthy bus ride. (Yes, most of my stories involve bus rides). Everything was dandy. The urban landscape outside the bus was inviting, refreshing, and bracing me for the day ahead. The gentle sunlight was, well,…

I forgot about the sunlight, the landscape, everything. It’s because all of a sudden, I had to do a number two. As the kids call it, I had to go boom boom.

With the rage and strength of a thousand rounins, it was signaling its impending emergence. Suddenly, the morning filled with mellow and pleasant things became a time-pressured challenge of endurance, stamina, mind power, and generally, just taking control of my bodily functions.

I gazed outside and noticed that I was barely half way through my journey. My insides were squirming as though screaming and shouting things with so much passion. I was about to burst. The experience was like a fresh pimple ready to explode. It was like the sandwich I left too long inside the microwave oven. It was like Mentos on Coke.

“Am I going to reach my destination before my fateful demise? How far can the next restroom be? Do I have enough supplies to aid me in that very exigent time of need?”

I looked outside, hoping for the sign of my office building. However, fate was not ready to give me what I wanted, and I was still going for that 50% of the journey. However, fate had something else stored in its sleeve for as the bus dramatically passed through the half way mark, a very dangerous and guaranteed-to-make-the-bus-shaky curved overpass was ahead. Realisations hit me. Once the bus goes through that curve, the shift of gravity and force might just induce a pre- … Well, I think we all know that one.

I clutched the railing above me with all the might I could muster. The world was about to shift, and I needed to hold on or perish to shame and humiliation. The bus went through the curve smoothly. I caressed my tummy for a job well done, and I thanked God for giving me some borrowed time.

After a few more minutes of perseverance and outstanding discipline on the parts of my body involved, the bus stopped eventually, and I alighted. However, by the time this happened, the feelings of doing number two had faded. The ocean was peaceful and tranquil. No sudden outbursts from the inside were made. It was like I had just gone through meditation, and before I knew it,

I was stable.