The Letter

"Believe me, son. Haven't seen it mahself, but it's all ah got left to live for."

It was Christmas Eve. The world was in a frantic, near glorious frenzy as midnight loomed.

He was just as confused. The words of the rugged man in his dreams echoed on his head for the longest time, leaving the man puzzled; How could one throw away all care and regard for his own life for a belief that did not have any true, potent proof in apparent and visible reality? How could he place all his hope in something that comes only after throwing everything he held dear after the years that have withered his body and enriched his mind?

He could be wrong. He just couldn't be right. He would fall down and die just like the rest of the world that braved the tightrope. Nobody can deny that. Everyone must fall. Small and big, strong and weak, rich and poor, all must fall. No human being has walked the tightrope - no, nobody in the human race has walked the earth from its creation straight up until the present.

Everyone must fall. Surely he was aware of this tragic fact? Why, he thought, in the name of all he knew was holy, did he see him? Why, of all things, did he remember how peaceful his face was as he turned away seconds before he was blown off to the pit where all must go? Will he not fall?

"Fall... down, or off?"

He remained silent in thought.

"Everyone falls off. Some never fall down."

Silence.

I know you can hear me.

"He will not fall down."

Why?

"I am the net"

Silence.

"I can save you."

Who are you?

There was no answer. He laughed at the gobbledygook of the supernatural, but he was no atheist.

WHO ARE YOU!?

His anxiety had to be masked as he smiled to welcome his mother to the study where he was. In her carefree ignorance of the the technologically advanced world, she handed her son a piece of paper, and said in plain tone,

"Could you email this to your brothers?"

It's funny how a messenger takes in the message more than the recipient does. One could probably not count how many times he stopped while transcribing this epistle.

My Son,

Hi! Christmas is fast approaching - a time of Joy, a time to celebrate and a time of thanksgiving - To thank God for sending His Son to save us from all our sins. For God so loved me, my husband, my friends, my relatives, and you.. that He sent His only begotten Son... Isn't that awesome? He loves you - all of us. And we are to radiate that love to everyone around us. It breaks my heart that things are not well with you and your life. How I wish I were there to talk to you. So I've been lifting you all up to the Lord in prayer since I knew about it. Harden not your hearts. This unforgiveness, bitterness, resentment, or whatever you may call it - it is of the devil. It is pride. Remember, pride was the reason Lucifer fell from heaven. Let's follow Jesus. What better way to show Christ that we love Him by obeying Him - To love because He loved us. We all saw the Passion together. We watched - how He uttered not a word to defend Himself - how He made sure His mother will be cared for - how He forgave even those who nailed Him to the cross. As Christians (followers of Christ) He said we are to follow Him. Let's obey Him so His suffering would not be in Vain.

By ourselves we can't love the unloveable, those who hurt us, etc., but by God's grace because we are in Christ; We can. Don't listen to thoughts in your mind: How hurt you are, how bad your job is, etc. Remember the mind is the battleground of spiritual warfare. The devil will take every opportunity out of the situation by putting thoughts in your mind to make you even more angry and hurt - Thank God the devil can't read our minds.

Unforgiveness will lead to bitterness so guard your hearts. I beg of you to make everything right this Christmas - ASAP. Let peace and love reign. Make God smile by Him - loving, forgiving, and making peace. Refuse to follow the devil's ways of unforgiveness, contentions, hate etc. As Christians we're also to respect and acknowledge authority. Your job is your job. Your boss is your boss. Whatever they do, they will be answerable to God. We all are for our actions. Our reactions to situations is our choice. Let's choose Jesus. He's our example. In everything, let's ask, "What would Jesus do?" Do what's right and not go by your emotions (Not negative). Love your job. Love your dad. Love your boss. Pray for him. You know, unforgiveness and rebellion to authority among others are sever ways to block the blessing that God has in store for you.

Remember, the choices we make here on earth point to where we will be in eternity. Our earthly life is like a drop of water in the ocean of eternity. To choose unforgiveness, to be hurt, etc. is not worth it. Besides it hurts Jesus and if we really love Him we'll follow Him. I know - I've been hurt myself so I know how it feels. but I've learned that it is wisdom to go to the Lord in prayer and obey Him. It shifts the focus on ourselves and back to Jesus - where our eyes should always be. So let's live everyday in preparation for eternity with God.

I hope you still have the Daily Bread I gave out last Christmas. Please read the letter in the inside first cover. You may want someone close to you to read this or opt to talk to them about it - loving and forgiving others. Let love, joy, and peace abide within you first and foremost. If anyone does something wrong, please resolve the issue in a gentle loving way, so the person will not feel bad and angry - self pity and all.

Always keep the peace then let that love among you radiate to others - relatives, friends, co-workers, etc. After all, the angels sang - Peace and Goodwill to men during that first christmas. A Merry Christmas to all!

I Love You All,

Mom

PS Keep praying and reading the Word.

"I am the way, the truth, and the life. It is all up to you to choose."

These were the last words of the voice.

-END-

The Dream

Freedom. It's a word that is valued, misunderstood, fought for, cherished, taken for granted, and unnoticed by the human race, all at the same time. For one particular man, freedom is time away from his 5, or sometimes 6 day a week job; Within that 9, or sometimes 10 hour shift, he is not granted the freedom to breathe like he would want to, simply because it is just not possible.

On one particular night, this one particular man chose to cash in on a privilege only defined to him when he started working; He decided to sleep during the normal hours that a human being preferred to sleep. The wind outside blew relentlessly against the window near his bed, but he did not mind the mild fracas; instead, he took extra comfort in the fact that he did not need to be anywhere else but safe and warm under his blanket, hands under his head as they floated on a pillow.

The room was dark and peaceful in his opinion. He sighed, and soon after that his eyes did not resist the call of his mind to close...

...and open. The sun was out. The same winds that were banging against his window were now making the many pine trees that surrounded him sway gently back and forth, unlikely to stand still until the wind stops. The clouds above him were following suit; It seemed like they were in sync with the sound the wind made. He could also hear crows in the distance, doing what he could only assume would be their mating call. He laughed at the thought that it did not matter, especially on such a beautiful day.

With that, he began to walk, passing by the trees, his look dazed yet thrilled at the same time. The scent of pine simply did wonders to his mood, even if the occasional rogue speck of bark hit his eye, causing him to stop and rub them.

However, it did not take too much time for him to get over the initial pleasures that took over him as he got acquainted with this location. With every step that he took he began to notice that the wind was growing stronger, the melody it created began turning into a cacophony that resembled high pitched screams. If there weren't more specks that hit him, he would have to move aside to evade a pine cone.

Though things were not getting any better, he still kept walking, walking.. Step by step by step, until, out of nowhere, a thought hit his mind.

"Look down"

He never thought of looking down ever since he got to this place. He was too enchanted with what he saw immediately that the risks of losing his balance did not have much significance to him.

The he realized that he was not walking on ground. He was not walking on grass, nor was he standing in a puddle. His feet were on a tightrope, its beginning and end too far for his eyes to see. The pine trees that he walked with were apparently a lot taller than he expected; They extended down, down, until they disappeared in the darkness below him...

At the sight of this he lost his balance, regaining it as soon as he regained his balance. His arms were now spread out. They didn't have to be before. He was trembling. He was relaxed before. His breathing and heartbeat went faster, and a cold sweat started running down his cheek. What in heaven caused me to look down, he thought.

What he had to do was to keep moving forward. If he stopped, he would definitely fall. The walking continued, but this was no longer the pleasant constitutional he thought it was. He had to mind his balance, his composure, he had to be on his toes all the time to walk, to stay on the tightrope.

It wasn't long until he met other people walking on the tightrope.

Some were a lot more nervous than he was, some were in the brink of falling.

Yet he kept walking. As he walked the tightrope, the wind never let up, instead, it kept on going stronger and stronger. The images he saw were of no help to him. Now he say people falling, some jumping willingly, some giving up, and still others being pushed off.

The farther he went, the harder the journey became. He noticed some had all sorts of things with them to stay balanced, many paired up to keep walking, many leading a multitude saying all sorts of theories to stay on the tightrope.

Many people, many ways of survival; until he saw one man who stood out from all the other people he saw walking the same tightrope.

This man seemed to have the same smile, the same exhiliration that he had before he had even bothered to look down. He was walking, only doing the bare minimum to stay balanced.

He finally made his way up to him, and as he neared him, he shouted, "LOOK DOWN!"

The man walked slower, and shouted back at him, "WHAT'S WRONG!?"

He was closer to the man now, "Don't you see what's under you?"

"'course I do."

"Why so happy?"

"'cause I know there's a net down there that'll catch me if ah fall."

"Bullshit."

"Believe me, son. Haven't seen it mahself, but it's all ah got left to live for."

"Listen to yourself! How can you trust something you can't see with your life?!"

"Ah dunno. Listen son, ya can either believe me or don't; I can tell ya, I ain't no rocket scientist to say it it even scientifimatically exists. Fact is, it's something ya wanna think about now. Ah know you'll make the right decision." With this, the man walked away.

He didn't. The wind was so strong for him now, that his stress and vice weakened body flew with it, and he was beginning to fall into the darkness that changed his life when he first saw it... As he fell, the last words he had were, "It must be there"

"It must be there"

"It must be there"

"It must be there"

The words rang in his mind as he let out a gasp, opening his eyes into another darkness where the wind slammed against his glass window. When his breathing stabilized, his body slammed down in a similar fashion onto his pillow.

Out of nowhere, the voice he talked to before told him, "It's there."

The Visitor

by Joseph Brent Lardizabal 12/20/06

The wind pressed on his jacket and blew his hair away from any form of decency as he stepped from the sidewalk to the road, attempting to cross the road. The ground, rather, the concrete was unusually wet to anyone not used to the city he lived in; Broken water pipes were not uncommon in his area, ironically in the central business district. He walked with a deliberate slowness, in the hope of recognizing anyone who he can spend more time with; The fairule rate of this approach increased as he stopped halfway, yielding to the cars speeding impetuously up the hill. He was finally on the other side, and he confirmed to himself that he was really going home the second a taxi stopped right beside him.

Three to five minutes ago he was enjoying a cup of tea; Or, at least he was making the most out if it - the cafe was saving money by offering 'refills' in the form of fresh hot water submerging an already used tea bag. He laughed at himself as he has so much in his mind, and he had a notebook.. But he did not have a pen, so all the thoughts that had to be placed on paper remained in his mind, for further (possibly unwilling) pondering.

In the taxi, he was not sure what rushed by his face faster - the wind, or the lights. It was an unnecessary diversion to his desperate conclusion that his night was fulfilled. He resorted to the thought that it was merely declared 'fulfilled' when nobody else was found to spend the night with him.

The satisfaction that he supposedly derived from his false fulfillment diminished as the thoughts that he originally planned to record on paper returned to his mind. They did not focus on a particular subject or event, bu nevertheless they kept coming back to him. They were the fabled 'skeletons' in his particular closet that would not rest until some sort of understanding was met.

The rituals of a man adjusting his body from exposure to the unmerciful concrete jungle in his home were taken, rites of passage necessary for a mind to concentrate on more important - personal - matters. So he sat down, finally with a pen in his hand, and he began to release the torment in his mind on a piece of paper. He did not seem to care whether it would help solve his problems or not, instead he just relied on the thought that eventually, it was therapeutical.

It was as though somebody had read his assumption. He heard a voice coming from the right side of his unkempt room, with a message as straightforward as it was startling,

"What do you plan to do about what bothers you?"

For a half second the human reaction to an unexpected guest distracted him to look, but he was apparently more indulged, more determined in placing his thought down on paper before they were forgotten, or, God forbid, altered unconsciously. He answered the voice with a sigh, and an "I don't know..."

"Is there something bothering you?"

With sarcasm, he answered, "Obviously." At this, he started reasoning, and looking. Nobody was there, and the voice he was talking to was one he never recognized. Was it the tea?

"I'm pretty sure you're sober."

His heart skipped a beat. "Who the fuck are you!?"

"Just like the problems you're thinking about, you'll never find out."

He stopped writing. I'm going nuts, he thought.

"No you aren't."

His eyes opened wider, and he retorted in desperation, using the most intellectual word in his vocabulary during the time.

"Huh!?"

"People are not people without problems."

With the sarcasm he so eloquently used a few seconds back, he snapped back, "And I'm thinking you don't have any?"

"Do not change the subject. You have problems, don't you?"

He did not need to think. He answered immediately, "What do you know about my problems?"

"You curse more than you used to, and you know that you started saying all those culinary expletives during the time because you were banking on the successful assumption which turned to the sickening fact that profanity has experienced a twist of fate from being taboo to being extremely amusing. You curse because it's one way for you to release your frustration on the world; You back it up with a false feeling of superiority that those that you feel insecure about lack the freedom to make their own choices, and therefore are only more 'superior' than you because they go with the flow. Did I hit anything?"

For the first time, he started opening up to this unseen entity, "You took the words right out of my mouth."

"Your sexual functions have been discovered at too early an age, and the instruments that led you to discover these capabilities have distorted your definition of satisfaction; You have become addicted to this new form of pleasure, and in the long run, you have been halfway to fully aware that this yearning for pleasure was merely a pipe dream, rejected by both your predefined foundation of Christian faith and the minds of the people - good friends and hostile threats - that have passed through your life."

He stared blankly at the white wall in front of him, lacking a person to look at to talk to. "Go on. You embarass me, but do go on."

"Currently you feel bitter. You thought that resistance to this perverted state of mind for the greater good, for God, absolved you of any disappointment when you found yourself a woman to touch, to talk to, and to love for real. Indeed you have resisted, but the number of heartbreaks of rejection and separation due to what you thought as circumstance - the failed attempts you had - rocked and toppled your foundations. The virtuous thoughts you had are merely memories now when they had the slightest semblance of action before, and you are back to square one."

He remained silent.

"You're thinking that you never really resisted this illusion of satisfaction to begin with, and every day that passes by will only contribute to the confusion, the pain, the agony, the anguish left by these heartbreaks. Your problems may go deeper than this, but so far that's what's on your mind."

He knew now that the answer was irrelevant, but he had to ask again, "Who are you?"

"The fact that you asked that reveals your biggest problem. You have always mentioned that you do not take a liking towards anyone who you think does not walk the talk, but, in light of these problems, you're not practicing what you preach either."

With the same eloquence, he uttered, "Huh?"

"I apologize for what I said earlier. You have found out your problems, and you are aware of them. I say that because I'm you."

His forehead was leaning on his hand on his desk, eyes closed. At the mention of "I'm you", they opened.

"Now I ask you the same question I began with. What do you plan to do about what bothers you?"

There were no voices after that. He knew he had left the window open, but the room seemed to be chillier now than before it left.

Pet Shop Boys - You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk

Just found this funny. It isn't pointed towards anyone, mind you. Enjoy.

Pet Shop Boys - You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk

What a performance tonight
Should I react or turn off the light
Looks like youre picking a fight
In a blurring of wrong and right
But how your mood chances
Youre a devil, now an angel
Suddenly subtle and solemn
And silent as a monk

You only tell me you love me
When youre drunk

Its better than nothing I suppose
Some doors have openend
Others closed
But I couldnt see you expose
To the horrors behind some of those
Somebody said listen dont you know
What youre missing
You should be kissing him instead of
Dissing him like a punk

But you only tell me you love me
When youre drunk
You only tell me you love me
When youre drunk

All of my friends
Keep asking me why, oh why
Do you not say goodbye
If you dont even try you'll be sunk

cause you only tell me you love me
When youre drunk

Whats the meaning
When you speak with so much feeling
Is it over when youre sober
Is it junk

You only tell me you love me
When youre drunk
You only tell me you love me
When youre drunk

One Down

It's an extremely cold night we have tonight; The stars are barely out, if not totally covered by a low blanket of clouds slowly rolling above, following the direction of the slightly powerful gusts of wind that plagued the city for the whole day. I could look up to verify how bleak it exactly is outside, but all I see is white; White paint covering an intricate pattern of splattered and flattened cement on wood, A.K.A. my ceiling. The ceiling of my room in a 3-floor house that has stayed warm and upright (har har har) through around two dozen typhoons over the span of 3 years, more or less.

The warmth I feel right now is not from what I am wearing, nor is our house equipped with an electric or gas heater... No, what makes me warm right now is the feeling of triumph; I have conquered my own complaints to myself regarding being unable to find an item: A tape, or any peripheral which contains the complete 12 tracks of the Gunter Kallmann Choir Christmas Sing-In.

Those of you from this (once) beautiful city we call Baguio may remember that about two years ago these songs were played nonstop in a stand-out yet pleasant volume through the speakers placed in each overpass, the one in Malcolm Square to be specific. The first track with the opening song "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" was also used in various advertisements during the time.

The whole set of these songs mean so much to me, in the sense that they reminded me of the happier, carefree days of childhood; And I'm listening to them right now.

I have tried turning the world I had upside down in the areas it was possible to do so to find this album; The frustration I felt for the past two years of not listening to something which significantly affected how the season became genuinely memorable was a constant thorn in my mind, along with many other reminders and thoughts being put on hold due to all sorts of circumstances.

So you got yourself some songs you were looking for after a long time. Big deal.

You can say that, but I choose to believe that these songs are representations of the pleasant possibility that you can always be caught by surprise, regardless of huge number of angles you can place into consideration and act upon. I literally forgot about these songs when the stress derived from my job made me prioritize more relevant issues. And, lo and behold, I finally found this thing that I was looking for in the same place that contributed to me forgetting them.

I imagine there's a dusty list of things left undone, things left alone, somewhere in my mind, abandoned possibly with no chance of following up on. The search for the Gunter Kallman Choir Christmas Sing-In was one of these items, and, once again, I felt emotional triumph after I listened to The Season Of Winter again. Trust me when i say that the smile on my face laster for 15 minutes straight.

I was happy. To me, that was a big fulfillment. And speaking of going back in time to supplement your emotional health... I'm gonna need a digicam or something more reliable when I pass by Brent.

Damn it, it's not yet too late to finish this year good.. (cue barbarian warcry)

IF NOT SUCCESS, I WILL BE EXECUTE!