<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453</id><updated>2012-02-17T00:59:31.945+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Memento</title><subtitle type='html'>Someone once told me the grass is much greener on the other side. Well, I paid a visit, but it's possible I missed it. It seemed different, yet exactly the same.
Until further notice, I'm in-between from where I'm standing, MY grass is green.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-2941921132905336577</id><published>2008-09-03T01:18:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T01:20:07.794+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coming Soon...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;This blog and some of its contents will be moved to a new and better site.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-2941921132905336577?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/2941921132905336577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=2941921132905336577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/2941921132905336577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/2941921132905336577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2008/09/coming-soon.html' title='Coming Soon...'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-115827562115705661</id><published>2006-05-15T22:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T07:32:13.333+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning while stalling</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Have you ever felt that everything around you was moving except for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that there comes a time in our lives when we come to a halt. And in that moment when we are at that point, is it possible for us to learn something while we are stalling?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we move so fast that we miss out on so many things around us. Another day, week, month, or year passes and we realized that we have missed out on so much. However, when our lives slow down and eventually come to an unexplainable pause, what do we do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I tend to evaluate what has happened in the past. I try to look at the things I have done. I try to see my personal growth or how far I have gone. But when I have been stalling for quite a while, I question the reason behind it. Is there something I should learn before I can totally move on? Is the universe trying to tell me something? Am I treading a wrong path? Or is this simply the way it should be for now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever the explanation is, I have been a firm believer that everything in this world happens for a reason. The littlest thing can teach you a lot. It always depends on how you look at it and how well you have searched for an inner truth. I guess it could be a problem when you have too much time in your hands; you have the tendency to over think everything that comes your way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I am just used to life in the “faster” lane. And things still do happen for a reason. We just have to learn to be more patient. The keyword I have been looking for all along was patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m now ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/demille.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/320/demille.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-115827562115705661?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/115827562115705661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=115827562115705661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/115827562115705661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/115827562115705661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2006/05/learning-while-stalling.html' title='Learning while stalling'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-115030748805606690</id><published>2006-04-22T10:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T01:46:22.096+08:00</updated><title type='text'>4 days</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It's been two years since I last saw the simple beauty of your shores…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still remember how you looked like during your prime. I was so young the first time I laid eyes on you. I was a child, mystified by your beauty and your power to nurture. You re-energized everyone’s spirit by bringing them back to the beauty of what the basics were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You still have the same effect on people, at least for me. Yes, there were changes just like anything else in the world, but you never failed to amaze me on how you silently taught me some lessons I would have never learned outside your world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You showed me that even ruins can be beautiful. Just like the scars that we humans have. You have somehow proven that not all that glitters is gold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You silently nurtured me and my company of our sickness when we visited you. It was as if you had to flush out the poison before you can completely heal us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You even went out of your way to introduce us to the others who enjoyed your company. In your silent ways, you showed us how different we were on the surface and how we were the same underneath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for making the elements surround us during our stay. The solid foundation of the earth, the invigorating warmth of the fire, the soothing breeze of the wind, and the refreshing clarity of the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s sad that it might be the last time we’ll see each other but we’ll always have the memory of your shores in our hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s the secret of the sea, I’ll always love you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/another%20sunrise.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/320/another%20sunrise.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Sunrise.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Sunrise.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/path.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/320/path.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Tree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Tree.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/anotherbehind.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/anotherbehind.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/vanities.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/vanities.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/moonburst.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/320/moonburst.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/moonshine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/moonshine.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Callin 'cross the blue&lt;br /&gt;It's all I do&lt;br /&gt;One day you'll come back to me&lt;br /&gt;It's a secret of the sea&lt;br /&gt;I'll always love you&lt;br /&gt;Always &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I see&lt;br /&gt;Floating on the ocean&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere under the sun&lt;br /&gt;Your golden skin&lt;br /&gt;In cypress and blue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear&lt;br /&gt;Waves that come rolling in&lt;br /&gt;Fleetness of wings&lt;br /&gt;A sound is missing&lt;br /&gt;A sign from you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Callin 'cross the blue&lt;br /&gt;It's all I do&lt;br /&gt;One day you'll come back to me&lt;br /&gt;It's a secret of the sea&lt;br /&gt;I'll always love you&lt;br /&gt;Always&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may never know&lt;br /&gt;Where you did go&lt;br /&gt;Whatever took you from here&lt;br /&gt;On these currents that run deep&lt;br /&gt;I'll lways love you&lt;br /&gt;Always &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;We would&lt;br /&gt;Sail into that big sky&lt;br /&gt;Forget about the time&lt;br /&gt;On the wind we would ride&lt;br /&gt;Watchin' wild birds sweep and glide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll linger just a little more&lt;br /&gt;Drifting on a foreign shore&lt;br /&gt;Spend my nights&lt;br /&gt;Waiting out the tides&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Callin 'cross the blue&lt;br /&gt;It's all I do&lt;br /&gt;One day you'll come back to me&lt;br /&gt;It's a secret of the sea&lt;br /&gt;I'll always love you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may never know&lt;br /&gt;Where you did go&lt;br /&gt;Whatever took you from here&lt;br /&gt;On these currents taht run deep&lt;br /&gt;I'll always love you&lt;br /&gt;Always&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-115030748805606690?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/115030748805606690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=115030748805606690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/115030748805606690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/115030748805606690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2006/04/4-days.html' title='4 days'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-114228309563773536</id><published>2006-03-14T04:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-22T22:34:14.140+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why do things change?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And then another one about changes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I do not have a concrete reason for the question above. All I know is that change will be there whether you like it or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, the first quarter of 2006 sucks for me BUT all of that is about to change. I can feel it coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One great thing that I noticed about myself is that eventhough I love drama, I don't like people who have TOO much drama. Too much of anything is not good, not good at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you to all the friends who were there through thick and thin. I love you all and you know who you are!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This pretty much sums up my the past few months...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Pixies.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/320/Pixies.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Well, I guess that this is now the end&lt;br /&gt;who'd have thought&lt;br /&gt;my old friend&lt;br /&gt;we signed the papers and we capped the pen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I remember you from way back when&lt;br /&gt;'Good evening, ladies and gentlemen&lt;br /&gt;welcome David-what's-his-name-again'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things change -&lt;br /&gt;the old cliche&lt;br /&gt;if we knew now what we knew yesterday&lt;br /&gt;oh, we couldn't give it away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was working at a record store&lt;br /&gt;I knew you,&lt;br /&gt;you knew the score&lt;br /&gt;some kind of deal is what we're looking for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time came, and disappeared&lt;br /&gt;no one steered and&lt;br /&gt;it got weirder&lt;br /&gt;help was needed, no one volunteered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things change,&lt;br /&gt;you got to wait a bit&lt;br /&gt;what made me think that I could weather it?&lt;br /&gt;you're down before you even notice&lt;br /&gt;you've been hit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And through it all I wondered where the bus&lt;br /&gt;was taking you&lt;br /&gt;who knew?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and even though my one and one was always&lt;br /&gt;making two&lt;br /&gt;I never thought that I was breaking you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were victims of the old taboo&lt;br /&gt;but people change&lt;br /&gt;we changed too&lt;br /&gt;just make it count before they get to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things change -&lt;br /&gt;baby, hold the phone! -&lt;br /&gt;they'll shoot you down like you was Al Capone&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you better go it alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess that this is now the end&lt;br /&gt;the paper's signed -&lt;br /&gt;forget the pen&lt;br /&gt;wonder if we'll ever meet again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd rather that we not...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-114228309563773536?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/114228309563773536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=114228309563773536' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/114228309563773536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/114228309563773536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2006/03/why-do-things-change.html' title='Why do things change?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-114132236563597905</id><published>2006-02-28T18:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-03T16:37:51.430+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lessons...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Recent experiences have been teaching me things that I already know. These are the lessons I have already learned but are in the back of my mind. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have burned bridges and have made life-changing decisions more the past few months than in my entire lifetime. They were not easy decisions to make but I had to do it in order to grow as a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the things I realized once again is that at the end of the day, you can only count on other people to a certain degree. You can be hopeful that someone will come and save you, or lend a helping hand, but the reality of it all is that no one might come. If somebody ever does, don't forget to thank them and tell them how you appreciate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lesser expectations from other people will yield lesser disappointments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read somewhere that expectations are pre-meditated resentments. This made me think...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-114132236563597905?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/114132236563597905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=114132236563597905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/114132236563597905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/114132236563597905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2006/02/lessons.html' title='Lessons...'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-113812822050160075</id><published>2006-01-25T02:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T02:43:40.566+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Should I still believe?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was all so sudden. You had to leave so soon. I can't stop you because I know that it was destined to happen. You told me that you are not really far away from me because I am already in your heart. But why is it tearing me apart? You said that when you return we can continue what we have started. Should I still believe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you are oceans away from me and all I can do is keep the memories alive. I guess in my own little way, you too are already in my heart. You will always occupy that special space which is only meant for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't wait to see you once again. Only the universe will tell when it will happen. I believe that it will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/320/hearts.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I had a dream that I could fly&lt;br /&gt;I can feel each moment as time goes by&lt;br /&gt;We'd never be too far away&lt;br /&gt;You would always be here, I heard you say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought&lt;br /&gt;Thought that it would be our last good bye&lt;br /&gt;I still can dream&lt;br /&gt;That one day love will fall out from the sky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you still remember, all the time that has gone by&lt;br /&gt;Do you still believe that, love can fall out from the sky&lt;br /&gt;If from where your standing, you can see the sky above&lt;br /&gt;I'll be waiting for you, if you still believe in love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Find a way,&lt;br /&gt;To bring back yesterday&lt;br /&gt;Find a way to love&lt;br /&gt;I hope we stay&lt;br /&gt;When tomorrow becomes today&lt;br /&gt;Love will find a way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be waiting for you&lt;br /&gt;In my heart you are the one&lt;br /&gt;If I cannot find you&lt;br /&gt;I will look up to the sun&lt;br /&gt;If from where you're standing&lt;br /&gt;You can see the sky above&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be waiting for you, if you still believe in love&lt;br /&gt;Do you believe? do you believe?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you still remember, all the time that has gone by&lt;br /&gt;Do you still believe that love can fall out from the sky&lt;br /&gt;If form where you're standing, you can see the sky above&lt;br /&gt;I'll be waiting for you, if you still belive in love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-113812822050160075?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/113812822050160075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=113812822050160075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/113812822050160075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/113812822050160075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2006/01/should-i-still-believe.html' title='Should I still believe?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-113735704261550043</id><published>2006-01-14T03:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T04:30:42.676+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>I was a bit hesitant to meet up with you even if we knew each other for quite some time already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always hated all the dynamics involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit that I was always curious how it would be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened my door and you came in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE talked for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE enjoyed an episode of "South Park" together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE looked each other eye-to-eye trying to size up one another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE held hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU told me that you like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU wished that we have met sooner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU said that you like me so much, then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU said that you were leaving the country next month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone said that life plays jokes on US sometimes, but how come I am not laughing right now? What is the reason behind the cruel joke and why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will happen to US when you leave? I know that YOU told me that WE will continue what has started, but I am afraid that the distance will just break US apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that YOU are sincere in your plans for US. I guess time can only tell what the future holds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever happens, one thing is for sure. I thank YOU for entering my life and making me realize that I can fall again. Thank YOU for showing me that there are still people like YOU around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/heart.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/320/heart.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-113735704261550043?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/113735704261550043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=113735704261550043' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/113735704261550043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/113735704261550043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2006/01/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-113735029893536131</id><published>2005-12-16T02:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T03:45:29.220+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How do you measure ‘genuine’ friendship?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There are things in life that you can instantly point out whether they’re genuine or fakes. There are women who can spot a fake from a distance be it a purse or a bag. There are men who can distinguish whether a pair of rubber shoes or a branded watch is genuine or an imitation. The list can go on and on but this is not usually the case when it comes to friendship. You can never tell at first glance if a friendship is the true kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone once told me that there is no proven way you can measure friendship because we all have different definitions of what a friend truly is. I agree. However, if you’re talking about ‘genuine’ friendship, I beg to differ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let’s see… how do you measure ‘genuine’ friendship?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can it be measured by simply counting the material things or the favors you got from your friend? Or can it be measured because you’ve known each other for decades? How about counting the times you have cried or laughed with one another? Is there even one proven way to measure it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, friendship is one relationship that is very important. For me, it is something that is sacred. A family may be bound by blood while the church may bind spouses and more importantly by their love that makes them become one. Genuine friendship is not far behind from these relationships. So many things can bind ‘genuine’ friendship making it strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the years, I was able to meet people from all walks of life. They came in all shapes, sizes, and color. Different and yet similar in some aspects but one thing is for sure, they all live interesting lives. Most of them were plain acquaintances or people you meet in everyday life. I read somewhere years ago that there are three kinds of true friends. Some belong to the ones people call, “friends for a season”. Some of them are people I would like to call, “friends for a reason”. And a few of them are the ones called, “friends for life”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Friends for a season” are friends who you meet due to some circumstances. It is within the same circumstance that dictates how long the friendship lasts. A good example of this that I could remember was a friend that I met during my grade school years. When I left and studied High School in Manila, we lost touch and the friendship ended there but the memories are here to stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Friends for a reason” are people you meet with specific purposes. For now, I will only sight one purpose, and this is to shape your life and change it for the better. These are the people who are destined to come into our lives and create a change within. This change may have something to do with the way we think and speak or even act. Some changes involve our value or belief system. However minimal or life altering the change is, this marks the fulfillment of the purpose that the “friend for a season” has in our lives. In my encounters with my “friends for a reason”, I find that most of the times, they disappear after the changes occur. I sometimes think that this is one way the universe communicates with us, a cosmic message of some sort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there are the “friends for life”. These are the people who no matter what are with you through good times and hard times. They are the ones who will not hesitate to give you help when you need it. The will be there no matter what. You can almost always tell this person anything that is in your mind and vice versa. There are times that you don’t have to talk in order for this person to know what you are thinking. It’s like there is a psychic bond of sorts between the two of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can also talk about what a friend is not, but I’ll just leave it for another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be very thankful if the number of true friends you have exceed the number of your fingers and toes, for you are lucky. You have more reason to be thankful if you know how to tell the difference between a genuine friend and one who poses to be one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So be it a friend for a season, a reason, or for life, let them know that they are appreciated. Life is short.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/untitled.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/320/untitled.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Now and forever, you are a part of me&lt;br /&gt;And the memory cuts like a knife&lt;br /&gt;Didn't we find the ecstasy, didn't we share the daylight&lt;br /&gt;When you walked into my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now and forever, I'll remember&lt;br /&gt;All the promises still unbroken&lt;br /&gt;And think about all the words between us&lt;br /&gt;That never needed to be spoken&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a moment, just one moment&lt;br /&gt;That will last beyond a dream, beyond a lifetime&lt;br /&gt;We are the lucky ones&lt;br /&gt;Some people never get to do all we got to do&lt;br /&gt;Now and forever, I will always think of you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Didn't we come together, didn't we live together&lt;br /&gt;Didn't we cry together&lt;br /&gt;Didn't we play together, didn't we love together&lt;br /&gt;And together we lit up the world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss the tears, I miss the laughter&lt;br /&gt;I miss the day we met and all that followed after&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish I could always be with you&lt;br /&gt;The way we used to do&lt;br /&gt;Now and forever, I will always think of you&lt;br /&gt;Now and forever, I will always be with you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-113735029893536131?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/113735029893536131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=113735029893536131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/113735029893536131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/113735029893536131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/12/how-do-you-measure-genuine-friendship.html' title='How do you measure ‘genuine’ friendship?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-113269078497415945</id><published>2005-11-23T02:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-23T04:35:56.796+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How was your Halloween?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I know that Halloween has passed weeks ago but I won't let the pictures rot in my files.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of my friends and I went to the street party last Oct. 29(evening)-Oct.30(wee hours in the morning) at Orosa. They had a dj and a stage where people in costumes could flaunt their creations or lack of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halloween is now officially one of my favorite days. It was a time for me to escape, be free, be real, and have uncensored fun. I was with a different bunch last year when we attended the party at the same location but the fun was just as much as it was last year. Once again, I wish I brought a good camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good thing one of my companions brought his camera phone to take a few shots. But before I post "some" pictures from the Halloween Party in Malate(Orosa and Nakpil streets), let me tell you a bit of what happened during that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived at the party scene late in the evening and wasted no time checking the other parts of Malate for any "party sightings" we might miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another great thing about Halloween is you'll never know whom you'll bump into. I saw old friends, new friends, and a &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;mysterious being&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. You'll see people with fabulous costumes and people like me who just like watching them as long as I have my bottle of beer with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was particularly surprised this year because I saw so many people who I wasn't able to see last year. It was all a pleasant surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly(I wanna make this post really short), I love seeing the smiling people around. This is indeed a party for everyone, and I mean everyone. Whether you are straight or not, Malate is one of the nice places to be during the Halloween.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh, did I mention that I had a kiss again this year?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Hallow8.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/Hallow8.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Let's Dance!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Hallow9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/Hallow9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;Dance some more?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Hallow11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/Hallow11.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;Pink Congregation&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Hallow3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/Hallow3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;Chuckie!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Hallow2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/Hallow2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;more people in costumes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Hallow4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/Hallow4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;Masked Strangers!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Hallow14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/Hallow14.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;Darna, Black Darna, and The Itim na Usok of Black Darna&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Halloween1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/Halloween1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;Ready for Action!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Hallow13.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/Hallow13.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;Darna with Queen Amidala?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Hallow5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/Hallow5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;some of the party people&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/Hallow7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/Hallow7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;Let's Dance S'more&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/mystery.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/mystery.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;Mystery(Not Anymore)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tonight’s the night, we’ve been waiting for,&lt;br /&gt;A time to sing and dance like never before,&lt;br /&gt;The street’s alive with such a carnival air,&lt;br /&gt;An all-night dancin’ party everywhere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and I, we’re happy to be,&lt;br /&gt;Just a part of this crazy scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Down on the street,&lt;br /&gt;Shoutin’, talkin’, laughin’, down on the street&lt;br /&gt;Down on the street,&lt;br /&gt;Snappin’ fingers dancin’, down on the street,&lt;br /&gt;Down on the street,&lt;br /&gt;Shoutin’, talkin’, laughin’, down on the street&lt;br /&gt;Down on the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tonight’s the night, you’ll never forget,&lt;br /&gt;The best time in your life you’ll ever get,&lt;br /&gt;New lovers meet as they dance through the night,&lt;br /&gt;The moonlight falls on this magical sight.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and I, we’re happy to be,&lt;br /&gt;Just a part of this crazy scene. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-113269078497415945?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/113269078497415945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=113269078497415945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/113269078497415945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/113269078497415945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/11/how-was-your-halloween.html' title='How was your Halloween?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-112101375915542422</id><published>2005-10-23T00:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-16T03:48:40.896+08:00</updated><title type='text'>more than i can bear</title><content type='html'>Thanks for your trust. I'll be here for you. I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/white-rose.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/320/white-rose.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Mischa.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The news just filtered through&lt;br /&gt;There's a new girl hanging out with you&lt;br /&gt;I'd kill the messenger&lt;br /&gt;But she's my friend and I love her&lt;br /&gt;And I know she tells me this for my own good&lt;br /&gt;'Cause she knows I've not moved on&lt;br /&gt;like a wise girl should&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now she's lying in my place&lt;br /&gt;With the right to kiss my favourite face&lt;br /&gt;Now she's curled up in my chair&lt;br /&gt;Your fingers in her hair&lt;br /&gt;It's more than I can bear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do the best I can&lt;br /&gt;To go along with God's good plan&lt;br /&gt;He thinks it's obvious&lt;br /&gt;There's no hope for the two of us&lt;br /&gt;So I know he's doing this for my own good&lt;br /&gt;'Cause she knows I've not moved on&lt;br /&gt;like a wise girl should&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now she's lying in my place&lt;br /&gt;With the right to kiss my favourite face&lt;br /&gt;Now she's curled up in my chair&lt;br /&gt;Your fingers in her hair&lt;br /&gt;It's more than I can bear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some may say life is for living&lt;br /&gt;But this takes some forgiving&lt;br /&gt;And I will try to&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now she's lying in my place&lt;br /&gt;With the right to kiss my favourite face&lt;br /&gt;Now she's curled up in my chair&lt;br /&gt;Your fingers in her hair&lt;br /&gt;It's more than I can bear&lt;br /&gt;It's more than I can bear&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-112101375915542422?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/112101375915542422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=112101375915542422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/112101375915542422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/112101375915542422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/10/more-than-i-can-bear.html' title='more than i can bear'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-112759440335249161</id><published>2005-09-25T04:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-25T04:40:03.410+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How do I tell my Angel?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;For the past few weeks, I have been feeling like a teenager again. It’s not that I found the fountain of youth nor have I found a product that truly reverses the ageing process; it’s actually something simpler than that. I think I am totally falling for someone who doesn’t even have any idea that I feel this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one is for my &lt;strong&gt;Angel&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I’m so happy I’m afraid I’ll die here in your arms. What would you do if I died like this right now in your arms? That we ever should have met is a miracle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some say happiness comes and goes. Then this happiness is a kind of happiness no one really knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that I could only read about these things in novels… romance novels but I guess I was wrong. What is this that I feel for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I do not read to think.&lt;br /&gt;I do not read to learn.&lt;br /&gt;I do not read to search for truth&lt;br /&gt;I know the truth, the truth is hardly what I need.&lt;br /&gt;I read to dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read to live.&lt;br /&gt;In other people's lives.&lt;br /&gt;I read about the joys, the world&lt;br /&gt;Dispenses to the fortunate,&lt;br /&gt;And listen for the echoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read to live,&lt;br /&gt;To get away from life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, Angel, I have no illusions.&lt;br /&gt;I recognize the limits of my dreams.&lt;br /&gt;I know how painful dreams can be&lt;br /&gt;Unless you know they're merely dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a flower which offers nectar at the top,&lt;br /&gt;Delicious nectar at the top and bitter poison underneath.&lt;br /&gt;The butterfly that stays too long and drinks too deep&lt;br /&gt;Is doomed to die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read to fly, to skim -&lt;br /&gt;I do not read to swim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not dwell on dreams.&lt;br /&gt;I know how soon a dream becomes an expectation&lt;br /&gt;How can I have expectations?&lt;br /&gt;Look at me&lt;br /&gt;No, Angel, look at me -&lt;br /&gt;Look at me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not hope for what I cannot have!&lt;br /&gt;I do not cling to things I cannot keep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more you cling to things, the more you love them,&lt;br /&gt;The more the pain you suffer when they're taken from you ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, but if you have no expectations,&lt;br /&gt;You can never have a disappointment.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember the first time I saw you. It’s as if it was just a few weeks ago… actually, it was! I do not know what it is about you that made me instantly fall for you. Maybe it was your smile or your gorgeous eyes. No! It has to be more than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I've watched you from the window.&lt;br /&gt;I saw you on the day that I arrived.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it was the way you walked&lt;br /&gt;The way you spoke to the men.&lt;br /&gt;I saw that you were different then.&lt;br /&gt;I saw that you were kind and good.&lt;br /&gt;I thought you'd understood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They hear drums&lt;br /&gt;You hear music&lt;br /&gt;As do I&lt;br /&gt;Don't you see?&lt;br /&gt;We're the same&lt;br /&gt;We are different,&lt;br /&gt;You and I are different.&lt;br /&gt;They hear only drums.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the time I watched from upstairs&lt;br /&gt;I would think of coming downstairs&lt;br /&gt;Thinking we'd meet, thinking you'd look at me&lt;br /&gt;Thinking you'd be repelled by what you saw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't reject me,&lt;br /&gt;Don't deny me,&lt;br /&gt;Understand me, be my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They hear drums, we hear music.&lt;br /&gt;Be my friend ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it was destiny playing a cruel game when we were introduced to each other. Why cruel? It is because until now I do not know where it is that I stand. I am terrified to ask. No one wants to get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I wish I could strike you from my mind and my heart.&lt;br /&gt;But I cannot.&lt;br /&gt;You may disappear, Angel, but I will not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel as if I should stop thinking about you and how you feel towards me but then again, my pride stands in the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;What do I care if the whole world knows how I feel?&lt;br /&gt;I adore you. Is that something I should be ashamed of?&lt;br /&gt;Is that something I should hide?&lt;br /&gt;I'm not a fool. I don’t know if you feel the same way as I do. But one loves a dog, an animal. What can I do to get&lt;br /&gt;you to love me - a human being like yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We each deal with our pride as best we can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were times that I had wished that you wrote me a letter telling me that I should just stay away from you because what I feel would not blossom. The same letter would also acknowledge how I truly felt for you. I just wish you knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;My Dearest Albert,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could forget you.&lt;br /&gt;Erase you from my mind.&lt;br /&gt;But ever since I met you,&lt;br /&gt;I find, I cannot leave the thought of you behind.&lt;br /&gt;That doesn't mean I love you ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that I could love you ...&lt;br /&gt;I know that I've upset you,&lt;br /&gt;I know I've been unkind.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted you to vanish from sight,&lt;br /&gt;But now I see you in a different light.&lt;br /&gt;And though I cannot love you,&lt;br /&gt;I wish that I could love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now I'm seeing love like none I've ever known.&lt;br /&gt;A love as pure as breath, as permanent as death.&lt;br /&gt;Implacable as stone.&lt;br /&gt;A love that, like a knife,&lt;br /&gt;Has cut into a life&lt;br /&gt;I wanted left alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A love I may regret,&lt;br /&gt;But one I can't forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how I let you&lt;br /&gt;So far inside my mind,&lt;br /&gt;But there you are and there you will stay&lt;br /&gt;How could I ever wish you away?&lt;br /&gt;I see now I was blind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And should you die tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I see.&lt;br /&gt;Your love will live in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remain… Your Angel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another wish of mine would have been to let you know that what I feel is the truest kind. It wasn’t the kind that would just fade away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Loving you&lt;br /&gt;Is not a choice,&lt;br /&gt;It's who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving you&lt;br /&gt;Is not a choice&lt;br /&gt;And not much reason&lt;br /&gt;To rejoice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it gives me purpose,&lt;br /&gt;Gives me voice,&lt;br /&gt;To say to the world:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why I live.&lt;br /&gt;You are why I live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving you&lt;br /&gt;Is why I do&lt;br /&gt;The things I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving you&lt;br /&gt;Is not in my control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But loving you&lt;br /&gt;I have a goal.&lt;br /&gt;For what's left of my life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will live,&lt;br /&gt;And I would die&lt;br /&gt;For you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had you known about how I felt for you, would you have noticed? I wanted to hear you say these words to me…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;No one has ever love me&lt;br /&gt;As deeply as you.&lt;br /&gt;No one has truly love me&lt;br /&gt;As you have, Albert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love without reason, love without mercy.&lt;br /&gt;Love without pride or shame.&lt;br /&gt;Love unconcerned&lt;br /&gt;With being returned --&lt;br /&gt;No wisdom, no judgement,&lt;br /&gt;No caution, no blame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one has ever known me&lt;br /&gt;As clearly has you&lt;br /&gt;No one has ever shown me&lt;br /&gt;What love could be like until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not pretty or safe or easy,&lt;br /&gt;But more than I ever know.&lt;br /&gt;Love within reason -- that isn't love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I've learned that from you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel joy inside of me because I am alive and burning with this passion… passion for you. I will embrace this for as long as I can and until the time comes that you will realize that what I say are all true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Everywhere I turn,&lt;br /&gt;You are there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere I look,&lt;br /&gt;Things are different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything seems right,&lt;br /&gt;Everything seems possible,&lt;br /&gt;Every moment bursts with feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is love so easy to give&lt;br /&gt;And so hard to receive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But though I want to live,&lt;br /&gt;I now can leave&lt;br /&gt;With what I never knew:&lt;br /&gt;I'm someone who can love&lt;br /&gt;And that I learned from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how I let you&lt;br /&gt;So far inside my mind.&lt;br /&gt;But there you are and there you will stay&lt;br /&gt;How could I ever wish you away?&lt;br /&gt;I see now I was blind.&lt;br /&gt;And should you die tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I see:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your love will live in me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In ending, I would like to share this song that I loved so much back when I was in high school and early college. I still love this song until now. I guess it represents a part of what I feel when I see you, when we talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/angels.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/320/angels.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Take these words they come out wrong&lt;br /&gt;They won't express this old emotional thing&lt;br /&gt;If you could see inside my mind&lt;br /&gt;You'd know the love and feel this passionate thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You stepped into my locked out world&lt;br /&gt;I felt your touch on my shoulder&lt;br /&gt;You turned my mind right over&lt;br /&gt;Like a child before it learns to speak&lt;br /&gt;I turn to stone, I turn to stone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heaven give me words to tell you&lt;br /&gt;How I am feeling&lt;br /&gt;What I am needing&lt;br /&gt;Heaven let this message reach you&lt;br /&gt;This desperation&lt;br /&gt;Will stop my heart from beating&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't be giving in&lt;br /&gt;I'll die if I don't tell you just how I feel&lt;br /&gt;I'll make you truly understand&lt;br /&gt;What kind of man could live with feelings of steel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to be so self contained&lt;br /&gt;When I thought about love&lt;br /&gt;A conversation heart to heart&lt;br /&gt;I must confess this old emotional thing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before you think that I'm a fool&lt;br /&gt;There's a flame that burns here&lt;br /&gt;Here's a feeling that's so rare&lt;br /&gt;It's my nightmare when I go to speak&lt;br /&gt;I turn to stone, I turn to stone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heaven give me words to tell you&lt;br /&gt;How I am feeling&lt;br /&gt;What I am needing&lt;br /&gt;Heaven let this message reach you&lt;br /&gt;This desperation&lt;br /&gt;Will stop my heart from beating&lt;br /&gt;Heaven give me words&lt;br /&gt;Heaven give pride&lt;br /&gt;Heaven let this message reach you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You've seen a heart worn on my sleeve&lt;br /&gt;I must express this old emotional thing&lt;br /&gt;Please be a witness to my dreams&lt;br /&gt;Or I'll wake up and say now&lt;br /&gt;Can this be real?&lt;br /&gt;Before you think that I'm a fool&lt;br /&gt;There's a flame that burns here&lt;br /&gt;Here's a feeling that's so rare&lt;br /&gt;It's my nightmare when I go to speak&lt;br /&gt;I turn to stone, I turn to stone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heaven give me words to tell you&lt;br /&gt;How I am feeling&lt;br /&gt;What I am needing&lt;br /&gt;Heaven let this message reach you&lt;br /&gt;This desperation&lt;br /&gt;Will stop my heart from beating&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heaven give me words to tell you&lt;br /&gt;How I am feeling&lt;br /&gt;What I am needing&lt;br /&gt;Heaven let this message reach you&lt;br /&gt;This desperation&lt;br /&gt;Will stop my heart from beating&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heaven give me words&lt;br /&gt;Heaven give pride&lt;br /&gt;Heaven let this message reach you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-112759440335249161?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/112759440335249161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=112759440335249161' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/112759440335249161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/112759440335249161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/09/how-do-i-tell-my-angel.html' title='How do I tell my Angel?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-112646384079821218</id><published>2005-08-29T08:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-12T02:37:20.803+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who likes balloons?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Found this old picture. Those were the days when only the littlest things mattered and simple things brought so much joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still find happiness in small things but life has been different since then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/old%20family%20pics/balloonch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/old%20family%20pics/balloonch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-112646384079821218?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/112646384079821218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=112646384079821218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/112646384079821218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/112646384079821218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/08/who-likes-balloons.html' title='Who likes balloons?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-112254122289651695</id><published>2005-07-28T16:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-12T02:09:19.013+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's the cutest baby?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;Before writing my next piece, I decided to post something light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not claim that I was the cutest baby during my time but I was certainly, abolutely, and literally cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just one of the pictures that brings a smile on my face. If I am not mistaken, this was taken during my first birthday. Yeah, yeah, I am a big boy. No wonder I am six feet tall, neh?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/apple1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/400/apple.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2467/510/1600/apple.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let your inner child surface once in a while, it will do you wonders!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-112254122289651695?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/112254122289651695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=112254122289651695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/112254122289651695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/112254122289651695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/07/whos-cutest-baby.html' title='Who&apos;s the cutest baby?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-111893293254106215</id><published>2005-07-04T22:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-05T01:05:58.523+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why do some people say "I love you" even if they don't?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;More than two weeks ago, I was at Mischa’s place with Clint, Lawrence, and Steve. While catching up on current events and “other” stuff, I indulged them with a little night of magic and enchantment through a recent great find—Julia Fordham’s “That’s Live” DVD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After watching her concert, we took a look at the interviews and the bonus features that included a 1991 original video of Love Moves…In Mysterious Ways. We also stumbled upon a live performance of her song entitled “I’m Sorry But…” which is the inspiration of this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Clint asked us if we ever said the words “I love you” and didn’t mean it, we were divided into two groups. Mischa and Steve answered that while they have said things in the past that they never really meant to say(like when they were overcome by strong anger), they have never said “I love you” to people unless they truly mean it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clint, Lawrence, and I on the other hand confessed that we also said a lot of things in the past that we never really intended to say. Sadly, this includes the words “I love you”. And because of this, we searched for reasons within why people say I love you even if they don’t. And so the story goes…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can still remember my younger days when I said a lot of things that I should have never said. Some of them were hurtful, and most of them were self-centered. As I grew older, I learned things the hard way. I am no saint, I still remember times when I say things out of anger but then again, I can no longer recall the last time I said I love you to anyone I really didn’t love. Those words for me are sacred now and I intend to keep it that way until the day I die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, why do some people say “I love you” even if they don’t?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I remember that I said those words because I was so overwhelmed hearing it being said to me. Love can sometimes be like a drug(FYI, I have ever tried drugs in my life), you are given a certain kind of “high”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time when I would say it because it was already a routine. It became a mechanical thing for me to say even if its’ meaning is already gone. As a result this made me lose something precious, something that I can never get back—time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there were times when I said it because I felt that I had to reciprocate. I just had to say it because the person who said it to me might feel bad or hurt if I didn’t. It was like saying welcome to someone who just said thank you. I guess I was more of a people pleaser when I was younger and I learned it the hard way when somebody broke my heart at that young age. I remember Fosca saying that “pity” is nothing but “passive love—dead love”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back, I admit that it was wrong and I had the wrong reasons for saying it. I am so thankful that I was able to realize early in my life that it is wrong to say “I love you” for the wrong reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In ending, if it ever crosses your mind to say “I love you” to someone you don’t really love, just imagine how it would feel if someone you’re head over heels for tells you that but they don’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/halfAwake.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for loving me&lt;br /&gt;For coming on like family&lt;br /&gt;For showing up when I was down&lt;br /&gt;When all the walls came crashing down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for saying I'd&lt;br /&gt;Be safe here til I die&lt;br /&gt;For showing up with open arms&lt;br /&gt;An open mind so open&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell my heart to see reason but it won't&lt;br /&gt;My mouth still says I love you&lt;br /&gt;But I don't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry but ......&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry but ......&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How the years fly by&lt;br /&gt;It's Christmas then fourth of July&lt;br /&gt;It all becomes a travelogue a jumble of occasions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell my heart to see reason but it won't&lt;br /&gt;My mouth still says I love you&lt;br /&gt;But I don't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry but ......&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry but ......&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been clinging to that which changes&lt;br /&gt;Caught in a never ending long long chain of delusion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry but ......&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry but ......&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-111893293254106215?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/111893293254106215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=111893293254106215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111893293254106215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111893293254106215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/07/why-do-some-people-say-i-love-you-even.html' title='Why do some people say &quot;I love you&quot; even if they don&apos;t?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-111977621646902446</id><published>2005-06-26T16:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-26T16:56:56.513+08:00</updated><title type='text'>365 dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I would like to thank Matt(Zataod) of Everville, USA for including &lt;a href="http://astoldbyalbert.blogspot.com/2005/05/birth.html"&gt;birth!&lt;/a&gt;, from my other blog &lt;a href="http://astoldbyalbert.blogspot.com"&gt;this time it's personal&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Zataod posted this in his very interesting blog, &lt;a href="http://www.dream365.blogspot.com/2005/06/birth.html"&gt;365 DREAMS&lt;/a&gt;. Hope your readers enjoy it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-111977621646902446?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/111977621646902446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=111977621646902446' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111977621646902446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111977621646902446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/06/365-dreams.html' title='365 dreams'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-111770869897284208</id><published>2005-06-02T17:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-05T02:03:47.136+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you have some advice to give on how to be insensitive?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;According to an article I read, majority of men are not capable of being sensitive. The common perception was that men don't have it. It also stated that men are mostly problematic in expressing their feelings than most women. The scary part came when the article mentioned that most men do not recognize the feeling of being hurt. They end up hurting other people in the process due to the denial of pain and hurt because it is much easier to be angry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are people nowadays (not just men) becoming desensitized to the point that they are like walking zombies? If your sole purpose is to work, eat, sleep, and pay the bills then I think you should snap out of it unless you are happy with a robotic existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen colorful people turn into gray. Don’t get me wrong, I think gray is a cool shade… on clothes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my life, I have seen so many people who are only sensitive to their own needs and not towards the need of other people around them. I find this sad. These people are what we call “takers”. They take all they can but do not spend time to think what their “givers” might need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember hearing before that this world is made up of two people, “the users” and “the ones who are used”. Honestly, I don’t believe in this crap. The world can be a symbiotic place to live in if we want it to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, there are times when I feel numb. Not even a building falling would make me run but I do care about what happens if the building is falling towards another person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't help but be curious about what makes people insensitive because it's trully sad and I do not have the cure because I am no psychologist or psychiatrist. I do know one thing though, people can change. People can change for the better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just remember this, you might not know it, but there might be people out there who is waiting for you to make a conscious move to make their lives better so that they can make yours better too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/bad.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INSENSITIVE&lt;br /&gt;Jann Arden&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you cool your lips&lt;br /&gt;After a summer's kiss?&lt;br /&gt;How do you rid the sweat&lt;br /&gt;After the body bliss?&lt;br /&gt;How do you turn your eyes&lt;br /&gt;From the romantic glare?&lt;br /&gt;How do you block the sound of a voice&lt;br /&gt;You'd know anywhere?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I really should have known&lt;br /&gt;By the time you drove me home&lt;br /&gt;By the vagueness in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;Your casual goodbyes&lt;br /&gt;By the chill in your embrace&lt;br /&gt;The expression on your face that told me&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you might have some advice to give...&lt;br /&gt;On how to be Insensitive...&lt;br /&gt;Insensitive... Insensitive...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you numb your skin&lt;br /&gt;After the warmest touch?&lt;br /&gt;How do you slow your blood&lt;br /&gt;After the body rush?&lt;br /&gt;How do you free your soul&lt;br /&gt;After you've found a friend?&lt;br /&gt;How do you teach your heart (It's a crime)&lt;br /&gt;To fall in love again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you probably won't remember me&lt;br /&gt;It's probably ancient history&lt;br /&gt;I'm one of the chosen few&lt;br /&gt;Who went ahead and fell for you&lt;br /&gt;I'm out of vogue, I'm out of touch&lt;br /&gt;I fell too fast, I feel too much&lt;br /&gt;I thought that you might have some advice to give...&lt;br /&gt;On how to be Insensitive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I really should have known&lt;br /&gt;By the time you drove me home&lt;br /&gt;By the vagueness in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;Your casual goodbyes&lt;br /&gt;By the chill in your embrace&lt;br /&gt;The expression on your face that told me&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you might have some advice to give...&lt;br /&gt;How to be... Insensitive&lt;br /&gt;How to be... Insensitive&lt;br /&gt;How to be... Insensitive&lt;br /&gt;How to be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-111770869897284208?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/111770869897284208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=111770869897284208' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111770869897284208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111770869897284208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/06/do-you-have-some-advice-to-give-on-how.html' title='Do you have some advice to give on how to be insensitive?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-111557812005239917</id><published>2005-05-08T10:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-02T14:00:05.783+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it possible to have fun while waiting at the airport?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A little more than a week ago, I was a chance passenger at the Centennial Terminal. I was desperately trying to get out of Manila during that day. All this started a little before 5am. Needless to say, I was already running late to catch the first flight. It was quite impossible for me(a chance passenger) to be able to ride the first flight. It was my first time to be a chance passenger so I didn't know how to go about it. I asked a woman who was also in line with her ticket. I was informed that we should give the man at the counter our tickets in exchange for a stub with a priority number.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was terribly shocked when I got my stub because it said that I was number 44 and they were just starting to call the single-digit numbers. After this, I knew that I was in for a long day. At a certain point in my waiting, I saw people having stubs with numbers 128 and 164 on it. I then asked myself if all of these numbers could be served within the day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The normal practice was to go back to the standby counter 30minutes before the flight so that they could announce the number of chance passengers that could get it that flight. We were asked to come back at 7am. I had more than an hour for my breakfast and R&amp;R so I went out to the snack station. After eating my breakfast, I called several people informing them of my situation. Most of them were shocked that I was at the airport at that time of the day and that I was going to compete with people from the two giant networks trying to leave Manila too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I enjoyed watching the people at the airport, it was like watching scenes from &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Love Actually"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. This was the only thing keeping me sane at that moment. I was actually irritated because every time I went out, I would feel how hot it was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Anyways, I went back to check the availability of the next flight. Every chance passenger was there, eagerly awaiting the announcement. "Zero Chance for this flight!” the man announced. He continued by saying that we should go back 30minutes before for the next flight which was somehow another two-hours from the time he announced it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Amazingly, there was a Cell phone Battery Charging Station at the airport. I guess this is great for people like us who have nothing to do but wait. As I looked around, I couldn't help but ask myself, is there something fun I could do while I was waiting? At least there should be an internet cafe where I could kill time by checking my e-mail and maybe writing something on my blog. With no internet cafe, arcades, movie or TV stations around, is it possible to have fun while waiting at the airport?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The first thing I did was to go out again and look around. I am naturally an observer, I like watching people but I somehow knew that I would easily get tired of it if I didn't see anything interesting so I turned my attention to the monitor where you could find the departure times of all the flights. After imagining myself going to all those places, I got bored. So far, I managed to make an hour pass.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As I went inside, I realized that I have used half of my battery already so I went to the Charging Station. As I sat down, there was a lady talking beside me and she was also a chance passenger for the same flight. I decided to ask what her stub number was so I can start a conversation. She was facing another direction when I asked her the question. When she turned to look at me, I was so surprised that she was a part of the popular "Sex Bomb" group. During that time, there were three of them. I am not really good with their individual names but most of them were very nice and really pretty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I am no longer bored! I found out in the middle of our conversation that they were going to have a show later that day so they really needed to leave. It turns out that they were late in checking-in so they automatically became chance passengers like the many others during that day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We had no luck for the next flight. It was also zero chance. We needed to wait another two hours. I went out to get something to eat. This was the time when I met a man who was also a chance passenger. He's a foreigner. We were already talking for around half an hour when I asked him where he was from. He told me that he just came in from Detroit and that he was Italian-American. He returned the question and asked me, "Which part of the U.S. are you from?” I was surprised; I told him that I am Filipino. Judging from the look in his face, I would say that he was really surprised. He said that I didn't look Filipino. It was not the first time that I heard that but it never fails to amaze me that an American would think that I was "white". He continued by telling me that Filipinos are amazing when it comes to speaking in english. He said that it is easier to understand a Filipino than "some" Americans.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I learned so much from this guy. He told me that he frequents the Philippines during summer because the beaches are really beautiful. After another hour, we decided to go in and check the availability of the flights. I noticed that there were fewer people now than hours before. A guy told me that we had better chances now because some of the people went home already and decided to come back the next day. A few people managed to get into the next flight but not enough seats for me to be able to leave. I was getting impatient until one of the Sex Bomb members told me that we should never give up. Honestly, she cheered me up and was partly responsible for making me stay another two hours.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Again, I went out for the last time. I talked again to some of the people I met during the day. I could smell mixed emotions in the air. Some of their morales were high, and most of them low, majority of us were just tired but you could still see occasional smiles on our faces.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After the long wait, I had to go in again and check. As I passed through the security check, one of the Sex Bomb members called me(shouting actually) and told me that there were seats available but it depends if we can all be accommodated. After a while, I was called for an option to upgrade to Business Class just to get on that flight. Of course, I upgraded. We were like winners of the PCSO Lotto. Everyone was asking everyone they met if they got in. Luckily, everyone I met got in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As I went to Tinder Box for a drink, one of the people I met joined me. He was a very friendly man. He was in his late 40's to early 50's I think. He said that his wife was so happy that we got in the flight. He even introduced me to Joy who managed the Sex Bomb group. She was friendly too. Next to us was Nina Corpus. I saw so many celebrities on that flight. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I guess the most interesting part was that Brad Turvey was seated on my row. I could not wipe the smile off of my face. No, not because of Brad but because I am finally on the plane and no one could stop me from leaving. As we landed, everyone was saying goodbye to one another, and all we could say to each other is "see you later".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Well, I did see some of them later on during my stay but I was just so happy to see the people who mattered to me. They somehow made me feel energized again. All in all, you can have fun while waiting at the airport. People in general have their colors to share and this is what made the wait interesting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As for my trip, I had another unforgettable stay. You could say that I still have a hang over from my short visit and I'm looking forward to my next.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;By the way, one of the Sex Bomb girls I met was Jackie. She's very pretty and nice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-111557812005239917?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/111557812005239917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=111557812005239917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111557812005239917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111557812005239917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/05/is-it-possible-to-have-fun-while.html' title='Is it possible to have fun while waiting at the airport?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-111390016909477284</id><published>2005-04-19T16:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-18T22:41:48.030+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simply, As Told By Albert</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I have been contemplating on making another blog aside from what I already had. I wanted it to be an everyday blog wherein I can write anything I wanna write. It may contain incoherent thoughts and the words might be contradicting, but it is what I would like to say as of that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://estabillo.blogspot.com/"&gt;Memento&lt;/a&gt; is where I post my organized thoughts. In other words, the other blog will contain my darker side if you can call it that. Definitely, the other one will be updated regularly. I can make a post by just typing a word but I don't think I will be doing that though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;To sum it up, &lt;a href="http://astoldbyalbert.blogspot.com/"&gt;this time it's personal&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-111390016909477284?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/111390016909477284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=111390016909477284' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111390016909477284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111390016909477284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/04/simply-as-told-by-albert.html' title='Simply, As Told By Albert'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-111277054659253623</id><published>2005-04-06T14:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-06T15:04:11.763+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quickie News!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Another short one for the records.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I was so excited to receive news that our Philippine promotion for a Supermarket chain made it to the &lt;a href="http://www.scapromotions.com/newsletters/2005e1/"&gt;"Promotion Times"&lt;/a&gt;, a widely circulated newsletter in the Advertising &amp; Promotions industry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Since our office scanner is busted, I can only offer the website where you can find the on-line version of this newsletter at the link found below:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.scapromotions.com/newsletters/2005e1/page5.html"&gt;http://www.scapromotions.com/newsletters/2005e1/page5.html&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Have a nice day everyone!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-111277054659253623?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/111277054659253623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=111277054659253623' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111277054659253623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111277054659253623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/04/quickie-news.html' title='Quickie News!'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-111199570041466684</id><published>2005-03-28T15:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-28T15:41:40.416+08:00</updated><title type='text'>And it's a short apology...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;After the thank you message, now I am going to apologize for not being able to post on this blog. An e-mail message from one of the frequent visitors stated: "The last time I read a real story/article from you was last February 1 when you wrote about the cab driver. I hope that you will be able to write something soon." I also received a few e-mail messages asking me if everything is all right. To honestly answer that question, I have never been happier. I just needed to do something important and I also got sick in the process and that is all to it.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"&gt;I am finishing something(a story) for my sister right now and I am also working on something that I should have posted months ago. I promise that this is worth the wait. Thanks for the people who continuosly return to this blog just to see whether it has been updated or has something new to offer.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Last but definitely not least, I would specifically like to thank blogger &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-family: georgia;"&gt;serial&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; for his comment about the Cebu posts that I did. I wanted to write back but discovered that serial's profile is not available for public viewing. So, to serial, please e-mail me at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;"&gt;agestabillo@yahoo.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; so that I can write to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-111199570041466684?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/111199570041466684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=111199570041466684' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111199570041466684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111199570041466684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/03/and-its-short-apology.html' title='And it&apos;s a short apology...'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-111066984996638598</id><published>2005-03-14T11:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-13T07:27:10.003+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Short Thank You...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Just wanted to say thank you to the following people:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Brian, Marnon, and Mike for the personal visit during the time I was sick. Thanks for bringing meds and food. I really appreciate it. Marnon, I totally appreciate the fact that you went all the way to Mandaluyong from Marikina just to bring me fruits and meds. I totally felt better knowing that I can always count on you no matter what.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Thanks to the numerous people who sent e-mail messages of support. You know who you are.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Mojia, Mischa, Clint, and Steve for showing your support in magical ways. (Still waiting for Lawrence to come out of the shadows)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Lawrence C. for texting me out of the blue because of your concern. I appreciate it a lot. I will heed your vision as a good sign.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Powers that be, thanks for not failing me and giving me the nod that I am doing the right thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-111066984996638598?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/111066984996638598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=111066984996638598' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111066984996638598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/111066984996638598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/03/short-thank-you.html' title='A Short Thank You...'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-110906940785707642</id><published>2005-02-22T16:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-22T18:50:51.723+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Path "Home"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I had a wake-up call at 3am this morning, it was a familiar voice, and I knew it was someone I can perfectly trust. We had a conversation that ultimately shook me to the very core. After the conversation, I was so sure that there would be something wrong if I do not choose to act soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Have I been doing things wrong?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Was I making the wrong choices?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Was I looking through my eyes or other people’s eyes?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Voice: You still have difficulties in discerning the truth, so you need to learn your own truth, not other people's truths. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;I was afraid that people might not understand what I am about to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Voice: You owe it to yourself this time, only to yourself. We will not interfere this time for the choice is yours and yours alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Can I still find my way “home”?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;Voice: You always had it in you. All you have to do is claim it..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;That is all I needed to know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;After the conversation, I knew what I was supposed to do. I was still worried about some of the people who will be affected with what I am going to do but it was no longer that important for I knew that it must be done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I guess the reason why I am writing this now is to make an advanced apology to the people who will find it hard to seek me. I will be “unreachable” within the following weeks or even more. All I ask is that people try to understand that I am doing this because it is needed and is not a personal attack on anyone. I need this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;If my personal relationships are affected, then I apologize. I deserve to reach where I am supposed to go without any emotional baggage. I deserve this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I need to change and re-arrange what is going on. I need to feel again. I have been numb for so long. I need to be re-born.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I will see you soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Thank you Mischa and Lawrence for waking me up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/higherplane.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I am not the person who is singing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I am the silent one inside &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I am not the one who laughs at people's jokes I just pacify their egos &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I am not my house, my car, my songs &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;They are only stops along my way &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I am like the winter &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I'm a dark cold person &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;With a golden ring of wisdom in my cave &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;And it is me who is my enemy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Me who beats me up &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Me who makes the monsters &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Me who strips my confidence &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I am carrying my voice &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I am carrying my heart &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I am carrying my rhythm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I am carrying my prayers &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;But you can't kill my spirit &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;It's soaring and it's strong &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Like a mountain &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I'll go on and on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;But when my wings are folded &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The brightly colored moth &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Blends into the dirt into the ground &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;And it's me who's too weak &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;And it's me who's too shy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;To ask for the thing I love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;And it's me who's too weak &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;And it's me who's too shy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;To ask for the thing I love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;That I love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I am walking on the bridge &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;I am over the water &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;And I'm scared as hell &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;But I know there's something better &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Yes I know there's something &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;Yes I know, I know, yes I know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;That I love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;But it's me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;And it's me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;But it's me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-110906940785707642?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/110906940785707642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=110906940785707642' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110906940785707642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110906940785707642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/02/path-home.html' title='The Path &quot;Home&quot;'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-110836173505809367</id><published>2005-02-14T13:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-14T14:40:46.800+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it true that looks are not everything?</title><content type='html'>Since it is V Day, I thought of sharing something I read months ago. I liked this story and I hope some of the readers who will come across it will get something from it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish all of you the best today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Happy Valentine's Day to everyone!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/heart.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/heart.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Dear Joe,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Hi! I'm an avid listener of your program, but I never thought I would be writing you to pour out my feelings. Joe, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;is it true that looks are not everything?&lt;/span&gt; Most people claim that physical appearance doesn't matter when it comes to love. It's what's inside the person that counts. I used to say that, too, until I was asked that question when it wasn't hypothetical anymore. I had to search deep inside my heart, but my pride and ego answered for me instead. This is where my story begins.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Joe, I've lived in a small village all 15 years of my life. I wasn't the type who liked socializing. I would prefer to stay in my room, read a book or look out of the window. Actually, the view from my window peers into the room of the next house, but no one lived there for a while. At least not until summer came.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;The summer before my last year in high school, my friends were all gone for vacation and it seemed that I would spend that summer locked in my room. It was during one of these days that I noticed someone had moved into the house next door. That night, I saw a guy sitting by the window playing the guitar. He looked up, met my gaze and smiled. I knew at that moment, that my life would never be the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;His name is Tristan. He was 18 years old and an incoming college freshman. I remember thinking how cute he was with his clean-cut hair and fair complexion. He was very friendly and from our respective windows, we talked for hours about everything. It was such a surprise to discover how many things we had in common. We finally ended our conversation when the sky turned black, but I knew it was the start of a wonderful friendship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;For the next few weeks, we established some sort of routine. In the mornings, he would throw tiny pebbles on my window to catch my attention. We would then spend the day talking to each other through our windows. We even played ball that way, throwing it back and forth. I guess he was a good ball player because he would always catch the ball sitting down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;He seemed to be like me, he was always in his room, usually sitting by the window. It never bothered me that we always talked from our rooms, like two prisoners in separate towers. I thought our setup was cute, but I looked forward to the day we would actually be together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;One day, he told me that he used to be a wild, risk-taking guy, until he had a bad motorcycle accident a couple of years ago. He said it was traumatic for him, both physically and mentally. He seemed to want to say more but it was clear that his memories of the crash were painful. And I didn't want to pry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Besides, his past didn't matter. I actually admired him for being so honest, and I knew that I liked him a lot more than when I first met him. In fact, I was convinced that he was my prince. That night, as I was about to sleep, a pebble hit my window. When I opened my window, Tristan threw a basketball at me, smiled and closed his window. He had written the words, "Jet Aime" on the ball.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Unable to control my curiosity, I asked my mother what it meant and she said that it meant "I love you" in French. I felt I was in some kind of a dream, the kind you never want to awaken from. Since then, I felt a bond forming between Tristan and me. Was it deeper than friendship? M.U.? Love? All I knew was it was something really good!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;It was around mid-May when my friends came back home and I told them about Tristan. They were all happy and wanted to meet the guy who made my heart beat faster so they invited the two of us to a dinner dance party. I eagerly agreed. It was the push I needed to spend a day with him away from our houses. It took a lot of convincing to make him go. He told me that he hadn't been to a party in a long time, that he doesn't dance and that my friends might not like him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;But I overcame his excuses and convinced him to go, despite the fact that he wasn't as thrilled as I was. The night of the party, I took pains in dressing. When his car stopped in front of our house, I expected to see him driving but instead, he had a driver who opened the door for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Inside the car, Tristan looked even more handsome at close range. When we arrived, the driver opened my door and I waited beside the car for the driver to open the door for Tristan. I thought it odd that the driver opened the trunk first. I stopped breathing when he took out a pair of crutches and that was when I knew, Joe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;The motorcycle accident had made Tristan a crippled, disabled man. He had tried telling me before, but I had been too engrossed in my royal prince beliefs to listen. For a moment I wished he would laugh and say it was a joke, but he didn't. I tried to act as if nothing was wrong, but I wasn't very convincing, and neither were my friends. They shook his hand, but kept on glancing at his legs and crutches.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;The tension was so great that I wished the earth would open up and swallow me. It was clear that I wasn't enjoying my evening and neither was he. We left the party early, and we were so eager to go home that we didn't talk on the way back, and practically said goodbye with a tone of relief.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;As shocked as I was about my discovery, I felt guilty about how unfairly I had treated him. I know that nobody's perfect, but I was never faced with the challenge of accepting the disability of a person I want to be more than a friend to. His condition hit me so hard that I couldn't immediately get over it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;I was so disappointed so I hid from Tristan and refused to answer the pebbles that hit my window. I don't remember when I pulled myself together to apologize for how I acted, I just know it was when the pebbles stopped hitting my window. I waited and waited but it never came.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;I finally found out that Tristan was going to the US for treatment. I finally had the courage to go to his house. But his 15-year-old sister told me that Tristan had left two days ago with their mom. With the surgery and continuous therapy, he would be gone indefinitely. I was about to ask for an address or phone number when she asked if I was the neighbor that Tristan used to talk to everyday. I said yes, hoping he had left a message or even a letter for me, but instead she gave me the cold treatment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;She told me, you know, Tristan couldn't stop talking about you since the first day you met, until the time he left. He said he knew you were disappointed with him, but he also told me how disappointed he was with you and with that, she thanked me for my concern and ended our conversation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Joe, I desperately want to make amends with Tristan but is he willing to listen to me? I have learned my lesson and am willing to admit my mistake, if only he will let me. I realize that whether or not he recovers, cripple or not, he is still the friend I made through my window, the kind I never thought I would have and the friend I grew to like, perhaps even love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;After thinking about this for a long time, I have finally learned to look beyond the physical. Now that I am ready to tell him, I don't care about your disability, there is no way to let him know. He may not come back for a long time, and I have wrecked my relationship with his family before it has even started. I shudder at the thought of not seeing him again, waiting helplessly to hear from him, and if I do, of him not forgiving me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;But for now, it seems that all I can do is wait and hope that he will be willing to pick up where we left off. Right now, I am blinded by depression and loneliness. Maybe there is an option I have failed to see and explore. I hope you and your listeners can lead me to it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;The only thing that gets me through is the hope that one day, I will open my window again and see him, sitting on a chair by the window. He will look up, meet my gaze and smile. Whether he stands up on his own or stays seated like before, well, I can now say for certain it doesn't matter at all. Joe, thank you for your time, and for choosing my letter. I hope your listeners will be able to learn from my bitter experience that it is true, looks aren't everything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Thank you and God bless you all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Sincerely yours,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"&gt;Angel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Dear Angel,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;You cannot blame Tristan nor his family for feeling indifferent towards you. His physical disability may be a sore to the eyes but that doesn't make him less of a person. Just like you and I, he also has feelings which can be hurt and scarred by prejudice and rejection.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Angel, you know you must have hurt Tristan's family more than you have hurt him and it may seem that you'll never get a way to him through them. It may be difficult to convince them that you are sincere but you just have to try. Tell his sister how bad you felt when he left and how sorry you are for having acted the way you did. If you speak from your heart, I'm sure you'll get the address or number you need.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Send him a note or a card and tell him you regret that you have treated him indifferently. Let him know that you are honestly willing to make up for all the hurt you have caused him. Call him if you can. Express yourself with all sincerity. Let's just hope he feels it and responds positively. If he doesn't, then just keep on trying. I'm sure, in time, your efforts will be rewarded.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;If everything still proves futile, then don't blame yourself anymore. At least you have tried your best. We must remember that nobody is perfect. We all make mistakes and sometimes inadvertently hurt others. But what is more important is our willingness to accept our faults and our sincerity in making up for all the pain we have caused others.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Good luck, Angel. I hope Tristan gives you the chance you deserve. I also hope that this letter will make us realize that genuine friendships are founded on respect and sincere acceptance of one and the other's incapacity and weaknesses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;It is not what we see on the outside that counts, for the real value of a person is not measured by how much he has but by the good that dwells in him and the real beauty of a person is the one not our eyes but only ours can see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Love,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);"&gt;Joe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-110836173505809367?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/110836173505809367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=110836173505809367' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110836173505809367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110836173505809367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/02/is-it-true-that-looks-are-not.html' title='Is it true that looks are not everything?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-110776363736185985</id><published>2005-02-07T15:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-14T14:42:20.256+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Thing?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Nothing was saving our day&lt;br /&gt;There was nothing to say,&lt;br /&gt;But you said something anyway&lt;br /&gt;Claiming i stepped out of line&lt;br /&gt;Which forced you to leave me,&lt;br /&gt;As if that idea was mine.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you stupid thing&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of course as your dear departed&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you stupid thing&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't me that you outsmarted&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you stupid thing&lt;br /&gt;Stopping it all&lt;br /&gt;Before it even started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet you knew it would come&lt;br /&gt;That's just like you to sit back&lt;br /&gt;And just play it dumb&lt;br /&gt;One word of warning would help&lt;br /&gt;But that sacrifice was made&lt;br /&gt;Trying to save yourself&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you stupid thing&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of course as your dear departed&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you stupid thing&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't me that you outsmarted&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you stupid thing&lt;br /&gt;Stopping it all&lt;br /&gt;Before it even started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's just how i am&lt;br /&gt;To fall where i stand, or i'm&lt;br /&gt;Weak for that kind of man&lt;br /&gt;One who looks helpless and brave&lt;br /&gt;But you turned into a coward&lt;br /&gt;I don't care for the parts you saved.&lt;br /&gt;You stupid thing&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of course as your dear departed&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you stupid thing&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't me that you outsmarted&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you stupid thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It is a rarity for me to address you this way but I can't help it so let me do this just for the time being. Come to think of it, I’ll just do this today and maybe forget about it tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It is so like you to stay away and stay safe so you wouldn’t have to feel it but instead what happens is you magnify your suffering more each day. You can’t fool me, not today, not tomorrow for I know you too well. Try to remember your immortal words that “your dear departed” is too smart to be fooled. I hold your words tight and you can’t get it back because I won’t let you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I have been trying my best to be eleemosynary but I guess I too am only human and I have my confines too. You thought I would completely forget. I am sorry but there are ways for me to hollow out the unscathed memories that you thought have gone astray. I cannot say that I am apologetic nor do I feel apathetic towards the way you feel but deep down I know that you deserve all of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This is your special day and I thought you’d want to know that I remember and I will continue to remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In ending I think I was harsh, I never intended to call you names and for that I ask for forgiveness for you are not a thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/stupid_thing.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:2px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/stupid_thing.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-110776363736185985?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/110776363736185985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=110776363736185985' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110776363736185985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110776363736185985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/02/stupid-thing.html' title='Stupid Thing?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-110724697263988094</id><published>2005-02-01T11:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-01T21:39:47.240+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Passion for breakfast anyone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;This is just a short story from an experience I had today. It all happened in a span of 30 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My usual routine is to take a cab going to my office. The cab driver was very polite when I got into the cab. He said, "Good Morning Sir". When I heard that, I knew that my day was going to be a good one. By the time we reached an intersection, I was surprised that there was no traffic enforcer around. When we successfully crossed the intersection, I saw two traffic enforcers talking with each other. I told the cab driver that they would rather apprehend violators than implement, which was very self-serving. What followed after that made me admire the cab driver's spirit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me that people nowadays lack &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"passion"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;. Since I always take the word &lt;em&gt;passion&lt;/em&gt; seriously, the cab driver got my undivided attention. He went on to say that people no matter what their stature is in life should always have &lt;em&gt;passion&lt;/em&gt; and pride with what they do. He also mentioned that he has &lt;em&gt;passion&lt;/em&gt; in what he does because he feels that what he does is important. He takes pride that everyday, he is able to bring people to their destination safe and unharmed. He then asked my thoughts on how many people right now has passion in what they do. He continued by saying, “Is it 1 in every 1,000? 1 in every 10,000?” I honestly didn’t know how to answer his question but it definitely was something worth thinking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Passion”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; was something you could eat, would you have &lt;em&gt;passion&lt;/em&gt; for breakfast?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to the office “safe and unharmed” thanks to the cab driver who had &lt;em&gt;passion&lt;/em&gt; and was &lt;em&gt;proud&lt;/em&gt; enough to say it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/passion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/passion.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-110724697263988094?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/110724697263988094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=110724697263988094' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110724697263988094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110724697263988094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/02/passion-for-breakfast-anyone.html' title='Passion for breakfast anyone?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-110555820899582149</id><published>2005-01-12T23:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-01-13T04:33:05.560+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Will the New Year bring us happiness?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It's the year 2005! Happy New Year to everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The year 2004 was certainly a very interesting year for me. It was a year filled with all sorts of stories but I would say that the best part of my year was when I felt contentment in life. My life is very simple and yet I felt complete contentment. It was so unquestionably real that I could feel it everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am quite emotional but this was a feeling that was so new. For the first time in my life, I couldn't ask for anything more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have my immediate family who are very supportive of my choices and I thank God that they had their share of blessings too. I have true friends who have been there with me through it all and the journey still continues with them. I have a &lt;em&gt;professional family&lt;/em&gt; who gave me a year that was worth remembering. And of course, who could forget the special people who gave me their love and taught me to love in the truest form. For this, I am grateful to the universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what’s next?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Will the New Year bring us happiness?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course the answer is obvious, it entirely depends on us. The choice is ours and no matter how irrational our choices may seem to others, if we believe that it will make our lives better then we shouldn’t mind what other people think. After all, we have a responsibility to ourselves to raise the bar as high as we can to make the universe a better place to live in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish all of you a year filled with love, happiness, and contentment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And P.S. I spent New Year’s Eve in Cebu with my friend Jan who was mysteriously there too! Some of the pictures are posted below and some of them are well... pictures from 2004.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/Img00001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/Img00001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Gathering (7-24-2004)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Hose (5-18-2004)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An Unposted Smile (10-15-2004)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/HP%204.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/HP%204.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Crowd at Harisson Branch (10-19-2004)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0010.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0010.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Dencio's Pic (10-22-2004)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0009.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0009.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rovic -- Cliburn's lost brother? (10-22-2004)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/Boni%20Branch2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/Boni%20Branch2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boni Branch (11-08-2004)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/Konsehal%20Simang.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/Konsehal%20Simang.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Konsehal Simang? (12-01-2004)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0021.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0021.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luz's Inasal (12-31-2004)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0027.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0027.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jan at the Capitol (12-31-2004)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0031.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year Cebu! (01-01-2005)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0032.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An aerial view of Cebu (01-01-2005)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0033.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0033.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bridges of Cebu (01-01-2005)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0034.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0034.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The FA and Jude Law (01-01-2005)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0035.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0035.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clouds (01-01-2005)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0047.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0047.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The promo is until January 16, 005 only! Hurry!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Be Alive in 2005!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-110555820899582149?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/110555820899582149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=110555820899582149' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110555820899582149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110555820899582149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2005/01/will-new-year-bring-us-happiness.html' title='Will the New Year bring us happiness?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-110362523349939969</id><published>2004-12-21T17:26:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-18T22:39:11.580+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How is Christmas this year? (Thank You!)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;An old friend of mine called me out of the blue to greet me a Merry Christmas, a Happy &amp; Prosperous New Year, and advanced Happy Birthday (January 2 and gifts are welcome) too. We went on to catch up with each other. In the middle of the conversation, he asked me: "So how is Christmas this year?" How do I start to answer a question like that? Let me enumerate some of them in this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be spending Christmas this year with my parents. Christmas this year will be better than last year. It is rare for a person to have contentment in their hearts. The contentment that I am talking about is not the forced kind. The kind I am talking about is the one that no matter what happens tomorrow, there is no space for regret that something wasn't done or things could have been better. I have come to a point in my life where I can say "This is it! This is the life that I wanted to live!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so much to be thankful for and this blog is dedicated to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;My Parents and My Sister&lt;/strong&gt; who have been very supportive of my decisions from the very start and for the love that they tirelessly give.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the &lt;strong&gt;special person&lt;/strong&gt; in my life who showed me (and continually shows me) that I am capable of giving the purest kind of love and for helping me find contentment in life. Also for the smiles, for the warmest hugs, for making me laugh, for the encouragement, and for the love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and some of &lt;em&gt;My Friends&lt;/em&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;FAB&lt;/strong&gt; for the continuous friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://singlemischa.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mischa&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; for the magical words, the understanding, and the love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Law&lt;/strong&gt; for the support and the love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Clint&lt;/strong&gt; for the patience and the love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Steve&lt;/strong&gt; for never being tired of listening to me and most importantly the love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Leo&lt;/strong&gt; for the guidance throughout the years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chris M&lt;/strong&gt; for being a true friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cliburn&lt;/strong&gt; for still being there despite the distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Marck&lt;/strong&gt; for the friendship and introducing me to people who eventually became my good friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.silent1.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Marnon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; for being a very loyal friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.travler.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mike C&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; for all the understanding and the patience to listen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.intensity_jan.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jan&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; for teaching me so many things, the friendship, and all the support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dioso.blogspot.com"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Edwin aka Bimbo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; for being himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ruffy&lt;/strong&gt; for all the fun times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lou&lt;/strong&gt; for the professional support and friendship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pinky, Jong, and Hervie&lt;/strong&gt; for the interesting year at IpC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bryan, Jason, Chris, Joey, Ed, Ryan, and Paul&lt;/strong&gt; for the unbelievable display of patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my &lt;strong&gt;other friends&lt;/strong&gt; who do not want to be named, I love you all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To &lt;strong&gt;all the readers&lt;/strong&gt; of this blog who sent me e-mail messages and gave comments and words of encouragement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sincerely thank all of you from the bottom of my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I wish for everyone is a very &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Blessed &amp;amp; Meaningful Christmas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This will be my last post this year but I will be back with more interesting pieces next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/thanks.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/thanks.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;At last&lt;br /&gt;My love has come along&lt;br /&gt;My lonely days over&lt;br /&gt;And life is like a song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At last&lt;br /&gt;The skies above are blue&lt;br /&gt;Well my heart was wrapped up in clover&lt;br /&gt;The night I looked at you I found a dream&lt;br /&gt;That I could speak to&lt;br /&gt;A dream that I could call my own&lt;br /&gt;I found a thrill to press my cheek to&lt;br /&gt;A thrill that I have never known well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You smile&lt;br /&gt;You smile&lt;br /&gt;Oh and then the spell was cast&lt;br /&gt;And here we are in heaven&lt;br /&gt;For you are mine at last&lt;br /&gt;I found a dreamthat I could speak to&lt;br /&gt;A dream that icould call my own&lt;br /&gt;I found a thrillto press my cheek to&lt;br /&gt;A thrill that I have never known well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You smile&lt;br /&gt;You smile&lt;br /&gt;Oh and then the spell was cast&lt;br /&gt;And here we are in heaven&lt;br /&gt;For you are mine at last&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-110362523349939969?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/110362523349939969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=110362523349939969' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110362523349939969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110362523349939969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2004/12/how-is-christmas-this-year-thank-you.html' title='How is Christmas this year? (Thank You!)'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-110150737143311407</id><published>2004-11-27T07:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-11-27T06:50:03.800+08:00</updated><title type='text'>How far are you willing to go for a second chance?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;People make mistakes. And if we learn from our mistakes, we become a stronger and wiser person. After all, we can always try again and apply the lessons that we have learned from the past. But what about mistakes we have committed that doesn’t offer us a second chance? Do we just give up and move on with our lives?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In love, how far are you willing to go for a second chance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inspired by the premise of Steven Soderbergh’s adaptation of “Solaris”, I have asked some of the people around me if they believed in second chances in love, and if they did, how far would they go for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/poster-solaris.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/poster-solaris.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was astounded by some of the answers. Someone told me that he doesn’t believe in second chances. I respected him because he was about eight years my senior. He pointed out that life is simply too short and that we are all given choices to make things work the first time around. I am pretty opinionated but I always try to respect other people’s opinions even if they directly contradict mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a strong believer in being responsible for the choices we make, I believe that if we are confronted with a second chance to make things right, then we should absolutely take it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A second chance given to us can be rare at times especially if it is regarding love. The universe does not offer this to us everyday. Sometimes we say or do things, which stem from anger or just because it sounded like the right thing to say or do at that moment, even if we really didn’t mean it. For some, this can be a deal breaker and eventually put an end to everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I personally had a recent experience that entailed the choice whether to go for a second chance or just leave it as it is. I felt as if the universe was offering me a rare chance to alter my past and make things right so I decided to give it a go even if it could scar me for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second chance given to me is a gift. This second chance could ultimately redefine my life and my existence. This second chance could eventually lead me to finding true love once again. And if it falls apart, only I could treasure the lessons learned from it. At least I was able to let go of the fear that continuously consumes other people. For me, fear of failure decays our growth as a person. A common by-product of this fear is the “What if?” syndrome that usually haunts us for a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The universe does not always offer us second chances to make things right. We haven’t come up with a time machine yet that could bring us to the past to erase and correct our mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how far am I willing to go for a second chance? My answer is simple… as far as I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And Death Shall Have No Dominion&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dylan Thomas&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And death shall have no dominion.&lt;br /&gt;Dead mean naked they shall be one&lt;br /&gt;With the man in the wind and the west moon;&lt;br /&gt;When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,&lt;br /&gt;They shall have stars at elbow and foot;&lt;br /&gt;Though they go mad they shall be sane,&lt;br /&gt;Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;&lt;br /&gt;Though lovers be lost love shall not;&lt;br /&gt;And death shall have no dominion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And death shall have no dominion.&lt;br /&gt;Under the windings of the sea&lt;br /&gt;They lying long shall not die windily;&lt;br /&gt;Twisting on racks when sinews give way,&lt;br /&gt;Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;&lt;br /&gt;Faith in their hands shall snap in two,&lt;br /&gt;And the unicorn evils run them through;&lt;br /&gt;Split all ends up they shan't crack;&lt;br /&gt;And death shall have no dominion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And death shall have no dominion.&lt;br /&gt;No more may gulls cry at their ears&lt;br /&gt;Or waves break loud on the seashores;&lt;br /&gt;Where blew a flower may a flower no more&lt;br /&gt;Lift its head to the blows of the rain;&lt;br /&gt;Through they be mad and dead as nails,&lt;br /&gt;Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;&lt;br /&gt;Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,&lt;br /&gt;And death shall have no dominion.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-110150737143311407?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/110150737143311407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=110150737143311407' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110150737143311407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110150737143311407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2004/11/how-far-are-you-willing-to-go-for.html' title='How far are you willing to go for a second chance?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-110150690004055605</id><published>2004-11-26T23:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-12-01T00:24:59.936+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Are labels necessary?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have been working for the Advertising and Promotions industry for the past eight years. The eight years is inclusive of the time I have spent in advertising sales. And one of the many things I learned is that branding (labeling) is important. A small mistake in brand positioning could spell the difference [in sales] between your brand and that of your competitors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I visit the supermarket I am always attentive to the label whether a certain product covers my needs and wants. I am cautious not to get those that might pose a potential threat to my health and my budget too. In these instances, labels help me get the right stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Labels also help me in finding my way when I am in unfamiliar places. These [labels] show me where to go so that I will not get lost. The label in this case can also be a sign that shows me where I have to turn or where to yield. I feel safer because of these labels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Labels are like names. Without them, everything would be generic. But in relationships, are labels necessary?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/nutrition%20label.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/nutrition%20label.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been confounded by this question in the past and it still creeps in once in a while in the present. Can a relationship exist without it being labeled? In these cases, are actions simply louder than words? Or do we need to speak it out loud in order for it to be real?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are things in the world that are often unspoken. Some people have a hard time saying, “I love you” to someone that they truly love but that doesn’t mean that the love is not there. This does not necessarily mean that they are afraid of commitment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, these are the people who are just able to express their affection through actions than in words. And then there are some of us who want everything said and sometimes because of this, the words become just that, words. The words then become insufficient because they lack the expression, which makes them real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately, some of us are faced with a choice whether to be accepting or to be demanding. We can be label conscious or be happy with what we already have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can choose to keep or throw away something that might be more than what we really needed or wanted in life. The brave choice is ours. After all, we are our life’s choices and we are ultimately responsible for the outcome of these choices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, labels are a necessity in life but when it comes to love, some words are better felt than said. Sometimes you just can't have both. And when this happens, I choose to feel than to hear. &lt;strong&gt;You are what you love, not what loves you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;When the light fades on a long bad day, I sometimes weaken.&lt;br /&gt;Then I turn to see you’ve been waiting for me, I know I’m not beaten.&lt;br /&gt;Cause you lift me up, you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming home sometimes I catch the headlines.&lt;br /&gt;It’s been raining since Saturday night.&lt;br /&gt;And the trains run late, I’m stuck at Notting Hill Gate.&lt;br /&gt;But you’ll make it all alright.&lt;br /&gt;Cause you lift me up, you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a little thing, our love won’t make the world alright,&lt;br /&gt;But love makes sense of life and that’s enough, at least tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So late at night maybe, when you call me baby,&lt;br /&gt;The day will just fall away.&lt;br /&gt;Cause you lift me up, you do.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-110150690004055605?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/110150690004055605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=110150690004055605' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110150690004055605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110150690004055605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2004/11/are-labels-necessary.html' title='Are labels necessary?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-110080822516937030</id><published>2004-11-18T23:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-11-19T04:51:58.046+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cebu Trip Anyone? (Trav-blog Travel Photo-blog Log: Cebu Part 2) </title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was raining when I woke up. As if the weather was telling me not to pursue my trip. I had no choice because it was not a want for me but it was a need. I had to honor an agreement with my client to do audit checks on all of my clients’ branches and it just so happened that Cebu is the location of one of those branches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After visiting a branch in the Manila area, I wasn’t able to go to the office anymore because my trip was at 3pm and it was already half past 12noon. I went directly to the airport so that I won’t have any problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was able to check-in at around 1pm, which was still early. According to my sequence number, I was the 76th passenger to check in. I had a window seat, which was what I preferred. All I had to do was to wait for an hour and a half before the boarding call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to pass time at the smoking area where I could also eat my lunch. Half way through my burger and slushie, I heard a very familiar song that was playing through the PA system of the airport. “If you’re leaving please take me along with you” were the words that grabbed my attention. I wondered, who would tell me to take them with me or the other way around? Whatever the answer is, I would have loved company. It would have been definitely a more enjoyable trip if a colleague or a friend were with me. I know that my trip is mainly for business but what I do after that is mainly up to me. And during these times, nothing more could make me happier than “company”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my contemplative moment specially brought up by one of the hits of the 90’s, I heard my boarding call. It was time for me to temporarily leave Manila. I was seated beside one of the heroes of our economy. He was an OFW from the Middle East. We had a short conversation about his life. All I can say is that he is truly a hero not just for the Philippines but for his family as well. I realized that there are a lot of sacrifices that OFW’s have to go through so that their loved ones can enjoy a better life. And for that I give them two thumbs up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of sacrifices, I was wondering why the plane was still on the runway. What was causing our delay? When I took a look outside my window, I learned that there were at least four planes behind us. I don’t know how many were in front of us waiting to take off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0011.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 30 minutes of delay, we finally left the NAIA 2 terminal. I was on my way to Cebu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew I wasn't in Manila anymore because the skies were strating to clear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0014.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hmmm... i wanna go to the beach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I arrived in Cebu a little before 5pm which means that I’ll be in Cebu City at around 6pm. I felt so tired so instead of going to the branch directly, I decided to go to the hotel first. It seemed that every time I visited Cebu something was happening either in the City or with the hotels. I found out that there was a review going on for those who wanted to be nurses. There were only a few hotel rooms available. Lucky for me, I was still able to check in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I entered my hotel room, I decided to lie down for a quick shut-eye before I could go out and try to catch the branch before it closes. To my surprise and this is entirely due to my being exhausted, I woke up at 1am. No more branch for me to audit! More importantly, I was starving. I tried to go to Chika-an and the place where I usually eat native lechon but they were both closed so I just ate at a 24-hour place where my food is nothing worth writing about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wide-awake in Cebu at 1am and so were the sex workers (women, men, and even transvestites). I was harassed three times by the transvestites. So after my dinner, the only way to go was back to my hotel room. I decided to call someone who was in Cebu but was originally from Bacolod. I know, I know! It is 1am but it’s a Friday for cryin out loud!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not mistaken and he was still up. He just came home from a weekend night out. He asked if I wanted company since I was already wide-awake so I said “uhuh!”. We talked for hours and hours waiting for the sun to show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that I haven’t been taking pictures as much as I had during my previous trip so I took the opportunity as soon as I saw that there was sufficient sunlight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the first few pictures I had taken during the early Saturday morning in Cebu City.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0017.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0017.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a view facing Robinson's&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;another view from the hotel (no traffic jam yet!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After eating my buffet breakfast, (sorry, I wasn’t able to bring my camera to the dining area) I went to the branch to do my audit. The Cebu branch is definitely a sight for sore eyes. My promo was beautifully executed here thanks to their marketing geniuses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/Cebu%20Branch5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/Cebu%20Branch5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my stay at the branch, I had to go back to the hotel so I can rest for a while and prepare for my trip back to Manila. After my shower, I turned on the television and saw a local ABS-CBN program. SNG (Sabado na Gyud!) was on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0020.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SNG!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While watching SNG, my friend from Bacolod took some pictures of me! Hehe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0021.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;poser!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0024.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the poser strikes again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided not to experiment on food today and just decided to go to the airport early. On my way to the airport, I took some pictures of these bridges, the Cebu-Mactan Bridge and the Marcelo Fernan Bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0030.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pic from the Marcelo Fernan Bridge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0032.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0032.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a not so good pic on the Marcelo Fernan Bridge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I waited for my boarding call, Mike was a sport to tolerate my being racist (just for the moment). I was irritated with the foreigners’ seated two tables away from me. I won’t mention their nationality for fear of being labeled. Thanks Mikey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, my second trip was not as lively as my previous one but I definitely had fun thanks to my friend from Bacolod. Too bad that he is not gonna be there when I do my 3rd audit check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0036.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0036.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cloud pics for Mike&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/50/IMAG0038.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/IMAG0038.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;another one for Mike&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew I was near Manila when I saw dark clouds. When I left Manila, it was raining but I won’t let that dampen my spirits, after all it was a Saturday night! ;-) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I heard this while I was on the cab going home and it reminded me of the past and so I am posting it hoping that you can also relive the time when this song was a hit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He will paint the light and shades&lt;br /&gt;The colours and the trees&lt;br /&gt;He will climb the steepest hill&lt;br /&gt;Believing what he sees&lt;br /&gt;He will lay down on the ground&lt;br /&gt;Beneath the old oak tree&lt;br /&gt;He will sleep forever&lt;br /&gt;If you try to set him free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sail on the wings of a cloud&lt;br /&gt;Where to, well nobody knows&lt;br /&gt;And cry, cry if you want them to see&lt;br /&gt;Die every day to be free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be proud to wear the colours that you call your own&lt;br /&gt;Be loud, speak out when the world to know&lt;br /&gt;Be strong, hold the flame for everyone to see&lt;br /&gt;Be weak, if you want to love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He will paint the endless sea.&lt;br /&gt;A mystery to me&lt;br /&gt;He will reach out for the sun,&lt;br /&gt;Not dreaming what he sees&lt;br /&gt;He will fall down on his knees&lt;br /&gt;Angel touching ground&lt;br /&gt;Takes him to the other side&lt;br /&gt;Sweet love is coming down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-110080822516937030?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/110080822516937030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=110080822516937030' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110080822516937030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/110080822516937030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2004/11/cebu-trip-anyone-trav-blog-travel.html' title='Cebu Trip Anyone? (Trav-blog Travel Photo-blog Log: Cebu Part 2) '/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-109785583453486864</id><published>2004-10-16T02:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-19T22:55:59.103+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cebu Trip Anyone? (Trav-blog Travel Photo-blog Log: Cebu Part 1)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After not sleeping for more than 24hours, I was bound for Cebu to inspect my promo paraphernalia and meet with my client for a briefing the next day. I checked in before the counter closed. I was glad I was able to make it. Little did I know that my trip was not going to be all pleasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes more, I heard an announcement that my flight is ready for boarding. It was a long queue. I was not happy to see that the aircraft was the Boeing 747. I was on Fiesta Class and since I checked in later than most of the passengers, I was seated at the aisle with two other people who were together. I don't know what really irritated me. Was it the passengers or the fact that I had no sleep yet? It was a mix of both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I arrived in Cebu, I went to the departure area to hail a "metered" cab. There was only "taxi service" at the arrival area of the airport. I wanted to be more economical so I decided to go to the departure area. Thank God that the driver was kind and entertaining. I asked him to bring me to the Cebu Midtown since my client is just a walk away from that hotel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0011.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Really needs to be renovated&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I arrived at Cebu Midtown, I was up for an unpleasant surprise. They were fully booked! I could not imagine them being fully booked on a Thursday. I guessed that there was a convention going on or something else. I later found out that Cebu Midtown was undergoing renovation. I guess it's about time. I had to settle for another hotel nearby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my whole life, I have visited Cebu more than 50 times because of the nature of my job. There is no big deal about the number of times I have been there. It doesn't make me special but I wanted each and every one of my trips there to be special in one way or another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During this visit, I made a point to bring my digital camera with me so it can be more useful. I thought that one of the best ways I can make this trip special is to share it on blogger. So here I am sharing my 24hour experience in Cebu. There is nothing wrong with mixing business with leisure as long as you have accomplished the objective of your trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just to give you a short background, I had my share of clients who have either branches or events that covered Cebu. This is the reason why every now and then I get to visit this wonderful city. Cebu is similar to Manila. It is also advanced and has the malls and restaurants that Manila has but it has more than that, for me at least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I had no time to visit my barber at Shangri-la to have my regular haircut/shave. I noticed how bad my hair looked everytime I glanced at a mirror. My hair was beginning to stand and have a life of its own. After seeing that the promo paraphernalia is working, I left and went back to the hotel to ask where I could find a good barber shop. They recommended Salon de Rose which was located at Ayala Center Cebu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been quite a while since I was able to visit Ayala Center Cebu. I was a bit excited to see what was new about it, so I immediately hailed a cab to take me there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And so I went to Ayala Center Cebu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I asked the security officers where I could find Salon de Rose since this would be my first time to have a haircut in Cebu. He was smiling when he pointed where the salon was located. I love how tourist friendly Cebu is, or is it because to some of them I look like an out-of-towner? Anyway, whatever the answer is, I loved how helpful they always are. My haircut was worth PhP75.00(a little less than US$1.50). I was satisfied because it looked nice enough for me not to worry if my spikes were showing, and at the same time it was a lot cheaper than what I usually spent in Manila.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my haircut, I felt so hungry. It was already almost 9pm. I decided to go around the mall and look for a place where I can eat dinner. I like Cebu's lechon, so when I saw that there was a place where I could eat lechon, I immediately went  there. Unfortunately, since it was near closing time, there was not much food left at CnT Lechon. The server was honest enough to tell me that it wasn't crunchy anymore so I decided to look around again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;This is where I wanted to eat...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I had a lot of choices but I wanted something different. Not necessarily a Cebuano specialty but I wanted something that I don't eat frequently. After a few minutes, I decided to go to Manpuku Bento which was basically just a few steps away from CnT Lechon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I ended up eating here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Manpuku Bento is a Japanese fastfood place. There were a lot of choices! I wanted something to satisfy my hunger so I ordered Beef Teriyaki &amp; Tempura Bento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Partially eaten Bento&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I am sure that you will agree with me when I say that the bento satisfied the hunger that I was feeling. It was also good, again for me, it was. There was a group of girls beside me who was teasing me about taking their pictures. I pretended not to hear them(I chickened out).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my dinner, I walked around the mall. I saw a place that brought back memories from the past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0009.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;in the late 90's I used to eat here with my old colleagues&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I walked my way out of the mall since the shops were already closed and I also had to hurry back to the hotel. I needed to take a shower because I was meeting a new friend(more about this story on my next post). On my way back to the hotel, I passed by a Club that had nice neon lights. It reminded me of the new power company television ad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0010.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;late nights, watch the city lights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When my new found friend left the hotel, I watched tv a little and fell asleep. The next thing I knew, it was already morning. I took a bath and went to meet my client for the scheduled briefing. After the meeting, I went back to the hotel to prepare my stuff because I wanted to arrive at the airport early. But before I left the hotel, I played with my digital camera a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It dawned on me that I did not want to leave just yet but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I felt sad that I was about to leave. I guess this is how I am when I enjoy my stay. I almost always felt like this everytime I was about to leave Davao too. I guess I am the only one who'll know why I didn't want to leave Cebu this time around. There was so much promise. I wanted to ask, "tell me again, why I should stay. tell me again, why I should not leave you behind" but at the same time I knew that if I stayed everything would change. My whole life would change and the special memories would just fade away. I did not want that, I wasn't ready for the gamble. I am grateful now that I can write about my experiences so that I would be able to hold on to the memories in a very special way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I wasn't away from Manila for a long time. I was only away for about 24hours but I somehow missed being with my friends. This was something that definitely cheered me up. It confirmed my decision earlier that I am not ready to make hasty decisions. At least, not yet, not now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0015.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I was also excited to go home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was 15minutes before 12noon when I checked out of the hotel. I had more than an hour so I decided to find a place where I could eat lunch before I proceed to the airport. I once heard that the best way to discover a city is to walk around it. I was sure glad I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw this place called "City Grill". It was very near the branch where I had my meeting earlier that morning but I have never tried it before. I was looking at the fresh food that was around when one of the attendants told me that there was a buffet! Without asking for their rates, I examined the food on the buffet table and decided that it looks promising.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Seafood!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The best way to enjoy a buffet is to eat little portions of everything available. Lucky me, it wasn't a large buffet table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0021.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Fish be with you...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I enjoyed eating and not only that, the drinks are bottomless too! Iced tea for me, please!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0020.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;whispers... "I want some more"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I don't usually eat "talaba" but it looked so good so I decided to take three pieces of the baked ones. These were generously covered with cheese, butter, and garlic too! Sinfully delicious! I loved their White Marlin soup. It was definitely heavenly! The White Marlin simply melts in your mouth like "fois grois". Mmmmm! Yum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a simple guy, City Grill did the trick for me. I was ready to get the bill and was very much content with the food I ate. I was so shocked to see my bill because I ate like I was in a "fiesta". There are two types of buffet at City Grill: with and without "talaba". I asked the food attendant that my bill was incorrect because they charged me "without talaba". I showed her that I sampled three pieces of "talaba". I just wanted to be honest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I paid PhP123.00(a little more than US$) for the buffet! If I didn't eat talaba, I would have been billed PhP99.00(less than US$2.00). Definitely, eating at City Grill was a great decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked a little more before I decided to get a cab so I can proceed to the airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0022.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I took pictures of the Marcelo Fernan Bridge. I always considered this as a landmark that signaled either your entry or exit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0023.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I'll be back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was early when I checked in and I got the window seat that I wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0035.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Is this Mount Makiling?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was cloudy, the pictures I took were not very clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0026.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0026.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Island Of Genosha?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I don't know what this island was but one thing I know is that I'll be back in Cebu again soon. I would love to have friends in Cebu so I would be able to see more of its magic. I know I have been there so many times in the past but I also know that it would be different if I were with a familiar face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cebu trip anyone? =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air&lt;br /&gt;And feather canyons everywhere, I’ve looked at clouds that way.&lt;br /&gt;But now they only block the sun, they rain and snow on everyone.&lt;br /&gt;So many things I would have done but clouds got in my way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0027.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0027.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now,&lt;br /&gt;From up and down, and still somehow&lt;br /&gt;It’s cloud illusions I recall.&lt;br /&gt;I really don’t know clouds at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0028.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Moons and junes and ferris wheels, the dizzy dancing way you feel&lt;br /&gt;As every fairy tale comes real; I’ve looked at love that way.&lt;br /&gt;But now it’s just another show. you leave ’em laughing when you go&lt;br /&gt;And if you care, don’t let them know, don’t give yourself away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0030.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I’ve looked at love from both sides now,&lt;br /&gt;From give and take, and still somehow&lt;br /&gt;It’s love’s illusions I recall.&lt;br /&gt;I really don’t know love at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0034.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Tears and fears and feeling proud to say I love you right out loud,&lt;br /&gt;Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I’ve looked at life that way.&lt;br /&gt;But now old friends are acting strange, they shake their heads, they say&lt;br /&gt;I’ve changed.&lt;br /&gt;Something’s lost but something’s gained in living every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0024.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0024.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I’ve looked at life from both sides now,&lt;br /&gt;From win and lose, and still somehow&lt;br /&gt;It’s life’s illusions I recall.&lt;br /&gt;I really don’t know life at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #660000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #660000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #660000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/IMAG0033.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;the surface that shines beneath the clouds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-109785583453486864?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/109785583453486864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=109785583453486864' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/109785583453486864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/109785583453486864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2004/10/cebu-trip-anyone-trav-blog-travel.html' title='Cebu Trip Anyone? (Trav-blog Travel Photo-blog Log: Cebu Part 1)'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-109721269001736940</id><published>2004-10-08T13:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-11T18:25:37.960+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you worried?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Worry, about you (IVY)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye, bye, baby&lt;br /&gt;Don't be long&lt;br /&gt;I worry about you&lt;br /&gt;While you're gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye, bye, baby&lt;br /&gt;Don't be long&lt;br /&gt;I worry about you&lt;br /&gt;While you're gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think of you in my dreams&lt;br /&gt;You never know, just what you mean, to me&lt;br /&gt;To me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye, bye, baby&lt;br /&gt;Don't be long&lt;br /&gt;I worry about you&lt;br /&gt;While you're gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye, bye, baby&lt;br /&gt;Don't be long&lt;br /&gt;I worry about you&lt;br /&gt;While you're gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think of you night and day&lt;br /&gt;I never know just what you meant, to say&lt;br /&gt;To say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/worry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/200/worry.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a day full of worries. This shall pass but let me be worried for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have the right to remain human.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-109721269001736940?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/109721269001736940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=109721269001736940' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/109721269001736940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/109721269001736940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2004/10/are-you-worried.html' title='Are you worried?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-109395331582210976</id><published>2004-09-02T20:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-09T16:13:26.496+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is there really a blessing in "single blessedness"?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Single and lovin' it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many times have I heard people say &lt;em&gt;"I am enjoying single blessedness!"&lt;/em&gt; when asked whether they are seeing someone special or if they are already married. I have often wondered if some of them answer this out of bitterness or because it is the plain and simple truth. I am in no position to interject any kind of judgment in their sincerity. I have no right to do that and I am not writing this for that purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I have had my share of meaningful relationships in my life, I have never been married. I am 30, I am single, and I am currently unattached. I often despise being asked the reason for still being single. As if being single is not a choice and is instead a curse. Don’t get me wrong, I do get lonely sometimes but it’s not always that bad. But sometimes when I am alone at night, I can’t help but ask myself, &lt;em&gt;“Is there really a blessing in single blessedness?”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are cons in being single. Single people pay higher taxes than those who are married and have children. Single people dining alone would definitely receive unsolicited comments or gossip. It is also a rarity for people to enjoy watching a movie alone. And going to the bar alone on a weekend could also send the wrong signals. So again I ask, what makes singles blessed? Is being single synonymous to being alone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some, single blessedness boils down to one word—freedom. Freedom to go home late at night not worrying that a spouse at home is waiting. Freedom from waking up early on weekends so you can have quality time with the kids. It also includes the freedom to go out with anyone you are interested in. Almost everything is according to your own phase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being single nowadays can be fun too. Just type the word &lt;em&gt;“single”&lt;/em&gt; on any search engine and you will be surprised with the number of results that will be displayed. Technology has made it easier to connect with other singles around the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Financially, being single has its perks too. You can almost always buy what your money can afford. Most of the time you only have to worry about making a budget for yourself and not for a family of four or sometimes more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like being fulfilled in being married and having kids, being single can be a blessing. It is not a curse. Being single can be a choice and not just circumstance. As one of my good friends put it, you can be a fabulous &lt;em&gt;“singular sensation”&lt;/em&gt; any day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;In ending, with a loving family and a bunch of great friends surrounding you, you can be single but never alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/lonely.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #aaaaaa 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: #aaaaaa 1px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #aaaaaa 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #aaaaaa 1px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/lonely.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;One is the loneliest number&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;That you'll ever do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Two can be as bad as one &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's the loneliest number since the number one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;No is the saddest experience &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;You'll ever know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Yes, it's the saddest experience &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;You'll ever know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Because one is the loneliest number &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;That'll you'll ever do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;One is the loneliest number &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;That you'll ever know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;It's just no good anymore &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Since you went away &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Now I spend my time &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Just making rhymes Of Yesterday &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Because one is the loneliest number &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;That you'll ever do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;One is the loneliest number &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;That you'll ever know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;One is the loneliest number &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;One is the loneliest number &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;One is the loneliest number &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;That you'll ever do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;One is the loneliest number &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Much much worse than two &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;One is a number divided by two&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Specially dedicated to Ms. Mischa "Singular Sensation" Lopez.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-109395331582210976?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/109395331582210976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=109395331582210976' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/109395331582210976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/109395331582210976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2004/09/is-there-really-blessing-in-single.html' title='Is there really a blessing in &quot;single blessedness&quot;?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-109326574918647363</id><published>2004-08-23T19:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-09-04T14:14:04.283+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Are we wasting our time in life’s waiting line?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Just a while ago, I was at a café trying out a coffee blend that turned out to be a huge disappointment for me. Before getting my hands on this "unique" coffee blend, I was in a queue. I had to wait for about 10 minutes to get my coffee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right before my “unique blend” experience, I had to pass by an ATM to withdraw some money. I had to “get in line” with around five people ahead of me and I had to wait patiently for my turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier today, I wanted to visit an ophthalmologist for an eye examination. To my surprise, there were hundreds of people waiting for their turn; ok it was less than a hundred. I decided to leave and just re-schedule my visit instead. I left the clinic and went to work. Of course, I had to wait for a cab to take me to my office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has always been my belief that we are in this world for a reason. But in able for us to carry on with our very own missions, we have to “wait” until it is time for us to unveil our grand purpose in life. For if everyone in this world unveiled his or her grand purpose all at one time then that would be a chaotic world. Wait again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems to me that everywhere I look; there are people waiting one way or another. I wonder, “Are we wasting our time in life’s waiting line?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/320/4.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: #aaaaaa 1px solid; BORDER-TOP: #aaaaaa 1px solid; MARGIN: 2px; BORDER-LEFT: #aaaaaa 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #aaaaaa 1px solid" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/24/1481/400/4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when I was a kid; I was told by my parents and society that I had to wait a little longer for me to be able to do things alone. This included swimming alone, cooking, working, going to bars, drinking, gambling, smoking, watching R rated movies and having a relationship among so many others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in college, I couldn’t wait to finish school and start working so I could earn my own money. Again, I had to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I started working, I had to be patient and prove myself in order to get the promotion that I wanted. This too involved a lot of waiting and persistence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems to me that since we were conceived, we already mastered the art of waiting. But when will the wait be over and can we say that it was truly worth the wait?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now thirty and all I can say is that I am still waiting… patiently and happily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Wait in line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;'Till your time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ticking clock&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everyone stop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everyone's saying different things to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Different things to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everyone's saying different things to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Different things to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you believe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;In what you see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;There doesn't seem to be anybody else who agrees with me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you believe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;In what you see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Motionless wheel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Nothing is real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Wasting my time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;In the waiting line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you believe in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;What you see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Nine to five&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Living lies&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everyday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Stealing time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everyone's taking everything they can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everything they can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everyone's taking everything they can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everything they can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you believe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;In what you feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;It doesn't seem to be anybody else who agrees with me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you believe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;In what you see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Motionless wheel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Nothing is real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Wasting my time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;In the waiting line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you believe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;In what you see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ah and I'll shout and I'll scream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;But I'd rather not have seen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;And i'll hide away for another day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you believe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;In what you see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Motionless wheel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Nothing is real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Wasting my time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;In the waiting line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you believe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;In what you see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everyone's saying different things to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Different things to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Different things to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Different things to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Different things to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everyone's taking everything they can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"&gt;Everything they can...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-109326574918647363?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/109326574918647363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=109326574918647363' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/109326574918647363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/109326574918647363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2004/08/are-we-wasting-our-time-in-lifes.html' title='Are we wasting our time in life’s waiting line?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7903453.post-109232163753044338</id><published>2004-08-12T21:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-09T05:52:07.403+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Can people resist the inevitable change?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have been procrastinating to write for an inexcusably long time now. Ideas were wasted. Sadly sometimes, memories faded because of such laziness. Laziness, which could have been prevented if only, I willed my fingers to type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God for the only constant thing in this world… change. I should also be thankful that we were given freewill. We can always change our mind and do things that are not expected of us. A brave example would be me, writing, once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my thirty years of existence, I have learned how to embrace change but I admit that I am not an expert. After all, I am still human. I still have emotions. It was in my solace that I found change to be as free as we are. All we have to do now is to acknowledge, embrace, accept, and let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen people around me try to fight it and others just sit in a corner and refuse its’ existence as if change will go away and leave them. I've even heard of people who said that hey will die if their lives change. This makes me wonder, "Can people resist the inevitable change?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is our attachment to the world that we are living in now that gives us a harder time to cope with change. We are “used to” doing things the same way over and over that sometimes we tend to ignore better ways of doing it (read: innovations).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Attachment too, gives us a hard time in coping with the loss of a loved one. Not just by death but loss can be manifested in so many ways such as break-ups, differences, migration, and a number of other reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that life does not stop when a major change occurs. It is in my strong opinion that this is where it sometimes starts… again. When we encounter a major change, we should just stop for a while, acknowledge the change, embrace it, accept it, and then let it go. This is where change steps in and shapes our lives for the better or for the worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My only hope is that my decision to write again is a welcomed change, that one day might change some peoples lives for the better. I can dream big, can't I?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;i want to change, to rearrange&lt;br /&gt;what is going on&lt;br /&gt;i need to change, i need to play&lt;br /&gt;like a five year old&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't detach from the past and all of the pain&lt;br /&gt;i need to learn, start from scratch begin again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;throw away yesterday&lt;br /&gt;today is a brand new day&lt;br /&gt;throw away yesterday&lt;br /&gt;today is a brand new day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i'm going to eat one hundred sweets&lt;br /&gt;i don't care if i get fat&lt;br /&gt;and i'm going to speak i won't censor me&lt;br /&gt;i know i can't take nothing back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i'm going to jump i will unburden&lt;br /&gt;i cannot go too deep&lt;br /&gt;i will not run from bad things i've done&lt;br /&gt;they're things i'll try not to repeat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;throw away yesterday&lt;br /&gt;today is a brand new day&lt;br /&gt;throw away yesterday&lt;br /&gt;today is a brand new day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;welcome to&lt;br /&gt;the church of what's happening now&lt;br /&gt;head straight through&lt;br /&gt;it costs nothing but change&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Webster defines change as “to make or become different” or “to replace with another”. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;"The Church of What's Happening Now" was written and performed by Sia Furler on her album "Colour the Small One". (c) 2004&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7903453-109232163753044338?l=estabillo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/feeds/109232163753044338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7903453&amp;postID=109232163753044338' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/109232163753044338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7903453/posts/default/109232163753044338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estabillo.blogspot.com/2004/08/can-people-resist-inevitable-change.html' title='Can people resist the inevitable change?'/><author><name>Albert E.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09330467246269875283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v680/earthlin_74/Image18.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
