Monday, February 23, 2015

The One

Another post from my old Wordpress (July 20, 2012) account.

The power couple. ^_^

The person who made the heavy loads light
The person I would always have reason to fight
The one who thinks I am smart and bright
Is no other than the one who gave me life

The one I could cry on when times are tough
The one who gave me love which no one could stop
One of my inspirations in reaching the top
And thanking this person is not just enough

And now wherever this person maybe
I know that the person is always guiding me
The person whom now I will never see
Still my heart always long for thee

The person who brought me joys untold
Joys that filled my heart more than gold
The hand which I always want to hold
How I wish my love for thee will be unfold


A poem written last July 2001 and read during my PI 100 class last January 2004.

Old Treasure Part 1

This was originally posted in my Wordpress account (July 23, 2012). But I decided to transfer it here. :)


This is an article I wrote under a pen name in our high school newspaper. I saw this article on my “treasure box” as I was searching for an old letter from a friend. I was not able to research about the date this was published in the school newspaper.

Funny how I achieve some of my dreams when I was a child. ^_^


The Excessive Me

One little two, little three, little Indians. Four little five, little six, little Indians. Seven little eight, little nine little Indians. Twelve little Indian boys… ???

I saw the light of the day on October 16, 1985, Wednesday afternoon at the Provincial Hospital in Sta. Cruz, Laguna.  It was where my father brought my mother from our place in Los Baños, Laguna. Unlike my older sister and younger brother, I was not born in Los Baños, our residence.

And unlike my sister and brother, I was born with twelve fingers where four were webbed on each hand. And this is the same as my toes. My elder sister has also twelve fingers but only two webbed fingers.  My brother was born with normal number of fingers and toes and not webbed.

My father used to tell the story when I was born in the hospital. He recalled shortly when I came out to see the day, the physician attending to my mother and I immediately asked the nurse to call my father for an inquiry. The physician was then surprised to see my webbed fingers and toes which is unusual. But upon seeing my father, she was not surprised at all. My father from whom I inherited my webbed fingers and toes has actually fourteen fingers and toes. Of course, he is not surprised at all for my eldest sister inherited his polydactyly character.  

It was only when I was five years old when I noticed that I am different from other normal children. After my father decided to have my elder sister removed her extra finger and the web in her hands, he asked if I would be willing to have my fingers operated on also. Of course, young as I was I did not like it and even now, I don’t like my polydactyly character be removed.

My father and some of other up to now insist that my hands be operated on. I still don’t like it. I know that God has given me this physical make up and He knows like my father I will make my life as He wants to be.

Today, I believe I am still lucky and always think that what other normal person can do, I can also do it. I don’t consider my abnormality a hindrance to lead a normal life. I am also grateful that my parents were very able to send me to school where I am now in 4th year and was in the pilot section.

Modesty aside, I manage to maintain a good scholastic record being a consistent member of the honor society from 1st year to 4th year.

I enjoy doing things that would enhance my artistic creativity. When I was in elementary, I dreamt to be an architect or an engineer. I am also interested about the new happening around and always ask questions why it happens and how.

I know I have so many things yet to discover, so many things to know and I’ll keep on searching. I know I have a special place in the earth as anyone has. And I thank Him for that.

They say it is not nice to write about one’s self. But come to think of it, it is only I who knows me well more than anybody else. It is for this reason that I am writing about myself.