Sunday, March 05, 2006
Highlights of My Life
By: Paulo Jose A. Solana
My Conception – April 28, 1976
The first miracle of God that I experienced was the moment my father and mother united to make an individual…ME! Like all miracles no one knew the exact time it happened, nor the significance of the event until a later time when the realization of the miracle hits them.
My Birth – January 28, 1977
I became a veteran of living as I lay inside my mother’s womb. To be pulled out from the safest place I knew for an eternity was the biggest challenge. Being thrown out to a place of light, hardness, noise and the dreadful untaseted air was quite frightening. Lungs trying to breath in the water of my mom’s womb that was no longer available, fighting nature to live and succumbing to defeat as I expelled the water from my lungs, the unfamiliar air rushed to my lungs in sweet aching swiftness, my eyes react to the pain as the tears flowed from my eyes blasted by the stabbing points of light. As I hear loud booming noises and felt a strong sensation of a han gropping my feet, I wail a defiance and accepted the challenge of life.
1984
First trip and ride in a boat that I remembered as we were fleeing Davao’s violent past towards Manila. Living in a small room with my parents and 2 brothers while studying in an exclusive school for the rich was quite a contrast but was a important experience that shaped who I am today.
To live as a street kid palying hide & seek in a “kalye” lined with jeeps, cars, tambays, drug addicts and ofcourse the normal people of Manila. Playing patintero, text, taguan, habulan, rubberband guns, cursing playmates with vehemence, it was a wonder we never had an actual fistfight that broke out among us.
I still recall Chembong, an Ilokana girl I had a crush on that prompted me to memorize Randy Santiago’s “Di bale nalang kaya”. Speaking of Randy, it was also the time we were fond of drawing dark glasses on the guy in the five peso bill. My friends studied at the local publich school, but who cares? Our family is not rich anyway. It was really a wonder where my parents got the money to support three sons to go to Ateneo de Manila University.
I only remember a few of my friends there at Kundiman St., Sampaloc, Metro Manila. David, Jakeris, Alex, Chembong and our arch enemy, Surot. I actually forgot her name. Surot was the typical streetgirl who was loud mouthed and has a way with spitting cuss words. It was because of her that I finally succumbed to the temptation of shouting expletives to my barkada during one of our many “fights”, which by the way I don’t remember the cause of which.
I only remember the cursing because my father heard about it and it was the first time that he scolded me seriously and meant every word of it. Which may be the reason that I am also like this today, not really close mouthed, but silent at times. It was already ingrained in me to think of what I will say before I blurt out anything.
It was also my first encounter with how an addict becomes unruly, an understatement actually, rather how an addict becomes a menace to society. Bernard, that’s his name, our local street addict. Even offered me a roll of weed, imagine that a teenage guy offering a gradeschool kid a puff of dope. Good thing the barkada of my kuya was there and hesitantly or carefully reprimanded him. Well one night, by this time our family already moved to our aunt’s duplex, we were about to sleep and suddenly there was a commotion. So everyone was curious and rushed to the second floor window. We saw Bernard shouting curses to the police next door and smashing pots that lined Jongjong’s residence. The police is Jongjong’s dad. I don’t really knew the issue between them. Anyway, I saw Bernard with his arms stretched as if drawing bowstrings but there was no bow. He released his hand and another pot broke with a bang. Or was it the police that shot his gun. After that Bernard ran away. It was later on that I learned what Bernard has on his hands, it was commonly called an “Indian pana”.
There was also this guy, I forgot his name. What I know is, he is David’s older cousin who just came from rehab. A reformed addict, it was weird the way he talked, walked and moved. He was like a robot.
Well suffice it to say with my early exposure to the effects of marijuana to an addict gave me a lasting aversion to drugs. Thank God for that.
One of the happy moments of my life in Manila as a kid was when my dad buys hamburger for us & my mom. No, its not McDonalds & Jollibee, it was just a local burger joint four streets down the road from us. It was a treat. Ah, the simpleness of being a kid.
Food. Yumyum…my mom is a good cook. Especially with veggies. All our childhood life we neet to eat veggies. If we don’t eat it, we cant leave our seat at the table. A nice condition, very very strategic. Imagine, you have a veggy you don’t like. For example, ampalaya which I really hate. Ok, so ampalaya is served on your plate. You take time with your food, hoping you can get away with it. Then suddenly you hear your friends on the streets shouting, laughing and having fun. What do you do? Ofcourse! Eat the veggies to get olunch over and done with so you can play.
What I fondly remember about my mom was when she makes monggo juice. Yup monggo juice. Damn! So delicious! It’s the same boiled monggo beans, just add milk and sugar. It’s one of the best treats I had when I was a kid.
To tell you frankly, I don’t really have much friends in Ateneo, just a handful. Art, he is good with a guitar. Blas Yu, a karatedo brown belt when we were at grade five. That’s it. I also remember Diego, the Nido boy, but he is not really a close friend.
What I remember in Ateneo Grade School was the Rock Garden! It’s the best place for adventurous, daring, brave, energetic and high spirited boys. Imagine jumping from rock to rock in varying heights, degrees, gap and difficulty. There’s the ten foot drop. Yep, ten feet, climb the rock and jump to the ground. Usually there would be a lead, who will choose a path (there were already predetermined paths made by past students way way back). Sounds easy huh? Nope, hard to explain, you’ve got to be there to feel the adrenalin, the rush and the danger.
The most dangerous was the Devil’s Peak. It doesn’t look that dangerous. Its not that high, the gap is manageable, the challenge? There were a minutae of fingerholds. That’s the catch. You jump, you only have three or four fingerholds and one foothold to cling to. Man! Those were the days. By the was, I never got injured. Im one among the boys who belong.
Basketball? A game of Dungeon and Dragons? Sure, but the Rock Garden beckons. I do Rock to Rock during recess, lunch and dismissal most of the time. Its there where I learned of adventure first hand. Its there where I learned how to dare and feel the rush on your first and successful jump. Even the repetition of jumps does not lessen the elation I feel, because for me, every jump is the first. You are not really sure if you are going to land on the exact spot next time or wheter it is slippery or not. The uncertainty of the unknown is still there. The elation is as strong as the first jump because you put your life literally in your hands. Not that someone already died at the Rock Garden, broken bones is the most dangerous injury you can get. Its ther where I learned to face your fear and move ahead to achieve your desire. I want to jump the Devil’s Peak. Very simple desire. Yet it teaches a lot to a ayoung mind. It’s there where I learned how to be successful and live your life’s desire.
Hmmm…that got me thinking. I think if im rich enough im going to make a Rock Garden for grown ups. Enough with that Rock Climbing thins. You want thrill, rush, adventure? Man, do Rock to Rock!
By: Paulo Jose A. Solana
My Conception – April 28, 1976
The first miracle of God that I experienced was the moment my father and mother united to make an individual…ME! Like all miracles no one knew the exact time it happened, nor the significance of the event until a later time when the realization of the miracle hits them.
My Birth – January 28, 1977
I became a veteran of living as I lay inside my mother’s womb. To be pulled out from the safest place I knew for an eternity was the biggest challenge. Being thrown out to a place of light, hardness, noise and the dreadful untaseted air was quite frightening. Lungs trying to breath in the water of my mom’s womb that was no longer available, fighting nature to live and succumbing to defeat as I expelled the water from my lungs, the unfamiliar air rushed to my lungs in sweet aching swiftness, my eyes react to the pain as the tears flowed from my eyes blasted by the stabbing points of light. As I hear loud booming noises and felt a strong sensation of a han gropping my feet, I wail a defiance and accepted the challenge of life.
1984
First trip and ride in a boat that I remembered as we were fleeing Davao’s violent past towards Manila. Living in a small room with my parents and 2 brothers while studying in an exclusive school for the rich was quite a contrast but was a important experience that shaped who I am today.
To live as a street kid palying hide & seek in a “kalye” lined with jeeps, cars, tambays, drug addicts and ofcourse the normal people of Manila. Playing patintero, text, taguan, habulan, rubberband guns, cursing playmates with vehemence, it was a wonder we never had an actual fistfight that broke out among us.
I still recall Chembong, an Ilokana girl I had a crush on that prompted me to memorize Randy Santiago’s “Di bale nalang kaya”. Speaking of Randy, it was also the time we were fond of drawing dark glasses on the guy in the five peso bill. My friends studied at the local publich school, but who cares? Our family is not rich anyway. It was really a wonder where my parents got the money to support three sons to go to Ateneo de Manila University.
I only remember a few of my friends there at Kundiman St., Sampaloc, Metro Manila. David, Jakeris, Alex, Chembong and our arch enemy, Surot. I actually forgot her name. Surot was the typical streetgirl who was loud mouthed and has a way with spitting cuss words. It was because of her that I finally succumbed to the temptation of shouting expletives to my barkada during one of our many “fights”, which by the way I don’t remember the cause of which.
I only remember the cursing because my father heard about it and it was the first time that he scolded me seriously and meant every word of it. Which may be the reason that I am also like this today, not really close mouthed, but silent at times. It was already ingrained in me to think of what I will say before I blurt out anything.
It was also my first encounter with how an addict becomes unruly, an understatement actually, rather how an addict becomes a menace to society. Bernard, that’s his name, our local street addict. Even offered me a roll of weed, imagine that a teenage guy offering a gradeschool kid a puff of dope. Good thing the barkada of my kuya was there and hesitantly or carefully reprimanded him. Well one night, by this time our family already moved to our aunt’s duplex, we were about to sleep and suddenly there was a commotion. So everyone was curious and rushed to the second floor window. We saw Bernard shouting curses to the police next door and smashing pots that lined Jongjong’s residence. The police is Jongjong’s dad. I don’t really knew the issue between them. Anyway, I saw Bernard with his arms stretched as if drawing bowstrings but there was no bow. He released his hand and another pot broke with a bang. Or was it the police that shot his gun. After that Bernard ran away. It was later on that I learned what Bernard has on his hands, it was commonly called an “Indian pana”.
There was also this guy, I forgot his name. What I know is, he is David’s older cousin who just came from rehab. A reformed addict, it was weird the way he talked, walked and moved. He was like a robot.
Well suffice it to say with my early exposure to the effects of marijuana to an addict gave me a lasting aversion to drugs. Thank God for that.
One of the happy moments of my life in Manila as a kid was when my dad buys hamburger for us & my mom. No, its not McDonalds & Jollibee, it was just a local burger joint four streets down the road from us. It was a treat. Ah, the simpleness of being a kid.
Food. Yumyum…my mom is a good cook. Especially with veggies. All our childhood life we neet to eat veggies. If we don’t eat it, we cant leave our seat at the table. A nice condition, very very strategic. Imagine, you have a veggy you don’t like. For example, ampalaya which I really hate. Ok, so ampalaya is served on your plate. You take time with your food, hoping you can get away with it. Then suddenly you hear your friends on the streets shouting, laughing and having fun. What do you do? Ofcourse! Eat the veggies to get olunch over and done with so you can play.
What I fondly remember about my mom was when she makes monggo juice. Yup monggo juice. Damn! So delicious! It’s the same boiled monggo beans, just add milk and sugar. It’s one of the best treats I had when I was a kid.
To tell you frankly, I don’t really have much friends in Ateneo, just a handful. Art, he is good with a guitar. Blas Yu, a karatedo brown belt when we were at grade five. That’s it. I also remember Diego, the Nido boy, but he is not really a close friend.
What I remember in Ateneo Grade School was the Rock Garden! It’s the best place for adventurous, daring, brave, energetic and high spirited boys. Imagine jumping from rock to rock in varying heights, degrees, gap and difficulty. There’s the ten foot drop. Yep, ten feet, climb the rock and jump to the ground. Usually there would be a lead, who will choose a path (there were already predetermined paths made by past students way way back). Sounds easy huh? Nope, hard to explain, you’ve got to be there to feel the adrenalin, the rush and the danger.
The most dangerous was the Devil’s Peak. It doesn’t look that dangerous. Its not that high, the gap is manageable, the challenge? There were a minutae of fingerholds. That’s the catch. You jump, you only have three or four fingerholds and one foothold to cling to. Man! Those were the days. By the was, I never got injured. Im one among the boys who belong.
Basketball? A game of Dungeon and Dragons? Sure, but the Rock Garden beckons. I do Rock to Rock during recess, lunch and dismissal most of the time. Its there where I learned of adventure first hand. Its there where I learned how to dare and feel the rush on your first and successful jump. Even the repetition of jumps does not lessen the elation I feel, because for me, every jump is the first. You are not really sure if you are going to land on the exact spot next time or wheter it is slippery or not. The uncertainty of the unknown is still there. The elation is as strong as the first jump because you put your life literally in your hands. Not that someone already died at the Rock Garden, broken bones is the most dangerous injury you can get. Its ther where I learned to face your fear and move ahead to achieve your desire. I want to jump the Devil’s Peak. Very simple desire. Yet it teaches a lot to a ayoung mind. It’s there where I learned how to be successful and live your life’s desire.
Hmmm…that got me thinking. I think if im rich enough im going to make a Rock Garden for grown ups. Enough with that Rock Climbing thins. You want thrill, rush, adventure? Man, do Rock to Rock!
Thursday, January 19, 2006
my gosh!!! nostalgia....awww gawd....i would never had remembered that i had a blogger account if it wasnt for what happened today. geesh!!! im stuck here in front of the computer for almost 8 long hours. doing nothing, zapping my brain with whatever radiation that the montior emits, breathing the stale, filtered air that endlessly cycles througout an 8th floor building. ahhh...the artificiality of a corporate life that one needs to succumb into just to live this predetermined life. predetermined yup...that's the word. every step you make is guided by the convention of your society that you are helpessly thrust into the world. grrrr....these are the time that i wish i was born into a RICH family. so that i dont need to work and just focus on my passion and my art and never worry where to get the food to eat when im hungry.ahhh...the reality of life the passion of survival; HUNGER. you think so? i do. air is free. we dont pay when we breathe the air. water is free, especially here in the call center industry, especially juice, ice tea and the most addicting liquid that is essential for your body...NO, not BEER...Yup; COFFEE. but food in the pantry? No way, pay for it dude. Even farmers have to work for their food. Animals need to kill for their food. Now thats nature. here i go again rambling about things that just come out of my mind. sometimes my fingers just type on their own even before i even finished the thought that just popped out of my head. i miss this though.
argghhh!!! the guilt! the guilt of an artist that threw away his art for the practicality of survival. it makes me guilty that i wasted 2 years of my life and i never did write a single new word in my book!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! damn!!! good thing this is the start of the new year. so its going to be my resolution to write again on my book. hmmm maybe im going to be lenient on myself. okey. here it goes. who ever reads this, you are my witness for my new year resolution. im going to write ten pages on my book per month, starting on february 1, 2006. so there. hope whoever reads this checks on me every month. so guys do mail me or whatever. remind me to write and help the Filipino people find their path towards a GLORIOUS DESTINY! hehehe.
so i end this blog on a patriotic note.
KALI!!!
argghhh!!! the guilt! the guilt of an artist that threw away his art for the practicality of survival. it makes me guilty that i wasted 2 years of my life and i never did write a single new word in my book!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! damn!!! good thing this is the start of the new year. so its going to be my resolution to write again on my book. hmmm maybe im going to be lenient on myself. okey. here it goes. who ever reads this, you are my witness for my new year resolution. im going to write ten pages on my book per month, starting on february 1, 2006. so there. hope whoever reads this checks on me every month. so guys do mail me or whatever. remind me to write and help the Filipino people find their path towards a GLORIOUS DESTINY! hehehe.
so i end this blog on a patriotic note.
KALI!!!
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Ahh...life is bliss...with a smile pasted on my face i walk along the deck of the ship chugging its rusted metal body towards the Queen City of Visayas. Under the moon, the clouds gather as they cry a downpour and swelling the waves of the dancing ocean. the wind caresses my face as it is swept towards the south by forces vast and unknown. My teeth shows against my lips forming a feral smile, ready again to face the fleeting world of uncertainty. I am not daunted, I have come back from my roots, refreshing the lines of power coursing through my veins. I am refreshed. I have dipped into the bowl of my ancestral community and have communed with beings like my own. i have drunk again the waters of life and have eaten the food of creation. i have touched again my homeland and now i am ready to face the challenge of life...
Monday, May 24, 2004
damn cold in the office, never knew why i get so cold when i'm wearing a polo.hahaha.i'm having a writers block for two weeks now.haven't written on my book project.damn wana finish it and sell itbuy a yacht and travel the world.hahaha
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Life has become a series of meaningless actions. I have been caught up in a net of mundane activity. Living the uninteresting life of a shackled worker. I still have my dreams to pursue, yet i could not understand the inactivity that i am wallowing in for this past few weeks. it may have been the isolation from the people I love, craving their presence and warmth. What is life? Is life better if you live a predictable, uneventful life of an employee, being assured of a monthly income in order to survive and forsake your dreams, the joy of living your passion? I have always been a dreamer, though I do work for my dreams. Yet the reality of life always presents itself in a bad light. Will my dreams, while unacheived and is still in the process of fulfillment, bring food to my table? For this very reason, I am torn in two. I am living between two worlds. I am working for my daily life and I am working for my dream, though daily life does demand a longer period of time, the short span of time i spend for my dreams and passion makes me forget my frustrations. What are my dreams you ask? Simple I am a martial artist and a nationalist. I want to combine my art with my country's long deserved rise from the still burning ashes of misery. Fortunately my art is the very own art of the Filipinos. I dream that through teaching my art I will help in uplifiting the counciousness of my country' s youth, instilling National Pride and cultivating Cultural Identity. I have talked to some and they deem my dream elusive. yet, I am Fearless. I am a Specialist...
