Fixing A Broke-down Car: Manly or Stupidity

I have had my fair number of break downs with regard to vehicles throughout my life.  May it have been riding with my folks home on the SLEX in the middle of night.  With my mom because of a wrong turn and as she put it, if I remember right, "a totally unthought of island" in Greenhills.  Or more recently running out of gas with my grandparents in the back seat, twice!  

I know the last one takes the cake and immediately gets categorized stupid but let me at least talk about the other two  and how we got out of those situations then let me defend myself.

So okay, first the SLEX breakdown.  This must have happened a little over 18 years ago because this is one of my oldest memories ever.  

We were coming back from a resort south of Manila I am guessing, either in Batangas or Tagaytay, when this happened but what I am sure of is that I suddenly woke up from sleeping in the back seat because we hit something.  

Trying to recall the scene after all this time is quite daunting so I am just gonna say it was dark, cars were zipping past, we did not actually hit a car but got caught up on a large piece of concrete debris that sort of stuck up our black Pajero.  I remember we could not drive off of it and we were stranded far from home.  

My dad's fix was to call the driver or someone I do not remember and have him bring the other car out to where we were so we could go home and they could deal with the problem.  So that's what happened it was his way of fixing the problem which I figured at the time quite cool cause it was like he could call someone in the middle of the night to fix his problem, back then that is.  Now I am more of a believer of digging your own way out, easy fix or not.

Next my mom's incident with an island.  This must have been closer to around 16 years ago cause I remember my dad was out of town and we could not call on him to help when it happened.  

After a late night grocery at Greenhills me and mom were headed home when she wanted to take the faster way home because of the Ortigas traffic.  So she took a left rather than our typical right and wouldn't you know it we jumped a small island and got our left rear wheel caught between an island and well air cause we were propped up.  What is worse is that some how the tire popped, it was flat and I mean you could see it hanging on the rim sort of.  

Imagine me a 7 year old at the time trying to help my mom figure this all out.  That was not going to happen, so here is my mom trying to call someone on her Smart phone (the size of a shoe) when three guys approach us offering assistance.

Oh to my mom's relief the three of them were engineering students living on Anapolis and willing to lend a hand in changing the wheel and driving our Corolla of the island.  So we did not keep them for long and after all that, my mom forever dubbed them her three musketeers for coming to our aid at our time of need.  So much so that I remember we dropped of christmas baskets at their condo for at least 2 holiday seasons.

Now we get to more recent breakdowns, I am proud to say that in my short history of driving which is just under three years I have not had any major breakdowns with regard to any accident of the sort with any of the cars I have driven.  Though I am ashamed to say it I have broken down because I have ran out gas twice with our family Innova, both occasions while driving my grandparents to sunday lunch.  

The first time was in the first year of my driving and our Innova konked out on me 100 meters short of the gas station I was hoping to gas up at because I thought it would last, in my defense at this time the gas gauge WAS REALLY BROKEN and everyone who drove it could attest to that.

So I had to walk to the gas station, fill up a 1.5 liter coke bottle with diesel (first time i saw the color of gas, it looks like piss which was weird) and I brought the mechanic back with me because I did not know how to manually pump the gas back into the engine.  After about 30 minutes of walking, pumping, and gunning the engine we got back on track and made it to sunday lunch with time to spare.  Yet it was still pretty embarrassing and ended up being the talk of the weekend.  

The second time was last year but luckily the Innova died just as I pulled up to have it gassed, I would like to blame another family member for driving it the night before without considering or bothering to gas it up before coming home from his late night shinanigans and that is all I have to say.

So again we had to the pump action with the engine but at least this time I knew what to do myself or so I though because it still took the mechanic to do it right for the car to start.  At least this time it was not so embarrassing and no one really knew about it cause nothing to bad happened.

There is one more thing though, and it is the real reason why I am writing about this.  That is because this morning as I drove my mother to the airport I ran out of gas for the fudging third time. What is worse is that this time I was alone and abandoned by my mother even though she knew I would be left to fend for myself in her justification it was because she had a flight to catch (THANKS FOR THE LOVE MOM!).  

For this occasion as I was abandoned so I had to do it all myself, I grabbed a cab to the nearest gas station while leaving the Innova at the airport departure area under check with the Military.  I borrowed a bottle again grabbed another cab back and did the engine pumping by myself, and sure enough got the Innova running.  Of course I gassed up with a further 400 at the gas station when I returned the bottle of gas just to make sure I got home with plenty to spare and to show that at least I am not an ars about gassing up.

Now I come to the thought part because at first I felt a certain amount of accomplishment being that I was able to get myself out of a break down bind all by myself without the help of any significant others.  So I felt good about myself, thinking and knowing this is just another bind that maybe in the future I might be able to help myself out of again or maybe some one else in need.  

Then again third time is the charm and to think that I have ran out of gas with the same car on three separate occasions is something all in itself, and pretty damned stupid, right? 

So what is it people, in my situation was it good enough to be manly or was it just plain stupid? 

Kids for Peace

One of the occupations I am proud to have on my resume is Photojournalist for The Atenews, the Official Student Publication of Ateneo de Davao University.  

With the position comes the responsibility to take on assignments that cover events both on and off campus, these could be school related or just about current issues.

Last weekend was no exception and I got the assignment to cover a PEACE WALK which was one of the culminating activities of The Ateneo's involvement in this year's Mindanao Week Of Peace.  

I am glad to say that everything with regards to the activity went well so it was a complete success and I just turned over my output to the Editors.

The best thing for me about these assignments though is not the job I have at hand but actually the activities and stuff that I get to see going on around the event.

For this last assignment it was all about great early morning light and cute kids waiting for us at the end of the route.  

They were so enthusiastic when we arrived at their "barangay" gym that they wanted to join and be a part of it all so we gave them blue ribbons and white flags and simply watched them light up.

I would like to share some outtakes from my assignment, I hope you guys like them.

Comments and critiques are more than welcome, enjoy.

Mindanao Week of Peace

Trinity

Believer

Worth Fighting For

Please

Idol ko si Pacman

Proud

Above

Tumitingin

Just

Simply

Adorable

All Photos are Copyright MGAntonio

Please message for inquiries

Running 59:42

Running a marathon is a multifaceted endeavor, anyone who has run one may understand what I am talking about even though they may never have given it much thought.  To some people it could be as simple as, I think I can do this, then they try, and find out if they did or didn't do it.  For me it could be as simple as that and actually once was but well not anymore, I am not sure if it is because I have grown up or matured a little more since my more frequent running days or if it's just because I have been into a lot of in depth thinking as of late. So anyway that's what this is about or rather what I am trying to make this about so I am a get cracking and dissect into the multitude of stages one faces when running a marathon.

The Pre-Marathon Stages.

These occur from the moment you decide to join a marathon up until the point that you actually begin running.  The way I see it there are three stages here, the enthusiastic stage, the preparation stage, and the poised stage.

The enthusiastic stage pretty much overlaps the other two pre-marathon because barring any serious injury or reason to back out from the said marathon lets face it you ARE excited for it to start, just as you are eager for any other thing that is out of your reach due to time.

Then there is the preparation stage, this is when you actually start preparing for the marathon and covers anything and everything you do that will have to deal with the marathon prior to it actually commencing, that is from carbo-loading, trial runs, purchasing of gear for the marathon, making sure your shoes are okay, maybe paying off your little sister to be a human alarmclock making sure you wake up in time for the race.  All of which helps in more ways than one because it pretty much pumps you up and gets you rearing to go for the marathon.

The last of the three is the poised stage and this occurs only minutes before the start of the race, when you are confident you are going to do this, everything seems in order, you know you are not backing out, you've  passed the point of no return and to sum it up you have got your game face on.  Up to the point that the starting gun goes off that is, then everything changes.

The Marathon Run.

These next stages have a sort of free for all character in of themselves throughout any marathon, by which I mean they come at you in all sorts of different ways and instances during a marathon.  They may come all at once, it is possible that none may come at all, and as for order well there is none because they are pretty much dependent of an individual's psyche.  So lets run them down, there is the steady stage, the little-engine-that-could stage, the psychologist stage, the what-the-hell-was-I-thinking stage, and lastly the stage of revelation. Again there is no proper order to this so lets go through this by my personal account.

The steady stage, this one starts from the moment the gun goes off up until you and everyone else running settles in to their individual pacing.  In my case this is immediate because I fall under the category of slow and steady wins the race so from the start I do not do the mad dash for the front of the pack like some people do.  I run the pace I know I can maintain for as long as I can which is on average 1 kilometer per 5 minutes for about 12 kilometers, 15 tops and thats pushing it.

The next stage would be the little-engine-that-could stage, I would like to think this is the stage where you begin realizing what EXACTLY you got yourself in to.  It would normally happen in one of two situations, first would be on the stretch along the route where you can place your self in the pack, in other words when you realize how good or bad your pacing actually is.  The other would be on the stretch of the route that lets you see the daunting task you have ahead of yourself, normally the first long stretch of the route that every marathon has.  In the one I recently ran it was the 5 kilometer stretch which was literally half the race already.

The psychologist stage is the first example of a stage that may revisit you several times throughout a marathon.  Some people say that in any activity you get yourself into it is half physical and half mental, I am a believer of this and though I like using the word "mental" (cause it sounds fun, say it, MENTAL) for this purpose the word psychological would be better suited.  So yes I am saying that you have to be psychologically prepared, especially if you run a 10 kilometer marathon after over a year hiatus from any serious running.  During this stage you sometimes literally start talking to yourself and depending on how well you have prepared yourself psychologically you may start urging yourself on with the positive perks for finishing a race or you may actually be consoling yourself already for what you know is inevitable failure.  Either way you feel yourself competent enough to be a self-practicing psychologist and really start listening, arguing, and actually calming yourself for the undertaking at hand, and it helps.

Then there is the what-the-hell-was-I-thinking stage which speaks for itself, it pops up anytime you feel any sort of pain, ache, strain, or happen glance back.

The last stage, non negotiable because it is always the last stage in or during a marathon is the stage of revelation.  If you  know about the book of revelations then you must get my correlation already, but for those who do not well this stage can go two ways.  The first is when you reach the home stretch and KNOW that no matter how slow or fast you are running, that very last ounce of adrenaline that you are squeezing out of yourself will be used to check off another item on your bucket list the moment you cross that finish line on your own capacity.  The second which is not as impressive would be the moment your body (not you, but actually sometimes you under the excuse of that it is your body) gives up and you have to sit down on the side of the road till a marshall, red cross official, or a good samaritan comes over to help you get back to the organizing area but as far away from the finish line as possible, for obvious reasons.

The Post-Marathon Stages.

At this point the marathon is over but, yes there is a but there is ALWAYS a but even when people say there is no but and so the but here is that the stages of a marathon continue.  To be frank and a little more general the last few stages are the ever after stage, the gorging stage, and the again-what-the-hell-was-I-thinking stage.

The ever after stage is a stage dependent on how you did during the marathon and is immediate after crossing the finish line with the sole given being fatigue because no matter who you are after running any amount of distance there is some fatigue just more in some than others.  I then mean dependent because it will be different for each runner, joy, sadness, any emotions in between for reasons that start with finishing or not finishing to coming in first or getting a blister midway.  This stage is centered about it being over though for good or for worse, happily or sadly, one point could be that you made it, ever after.

The gorging stage is the sustenance stage post-marathon in which you feel either that you deserve it or that you have earned it to the point that you will want to get whatever and as much as you want as long as it makes you happy (or is trying to make you happy again after not doing well or not finishing at all).  It may be noted that this does not necessarily need to refer to food by definition sustenance is basically a source of strength so whatever wets your whistle goes.

This last stage has no real timetable and can actually happen the day after to even years later.  It could be triggered by a simple ache, running into a familiar face you can not place but was actually the cutie (with a great butt) that kept you running, an inuman (drinking) session story, or simply your best friend telling you that  he signed you up for another marathon so that he has company.  With or without regret that would be the again-what-the-hell-was-I-thinking stage.

And that is all there is to it, the numerous stages people (or maybe just me) go through when running a marathon.  On a final personal note to get to this point was a long road, no pun intended.  Running a marathon is no easy feat and does take some serious thought before even being considered.  This is where I say that the lessons of perseverance and will power that I saw embodied in characters like the little train that could and people like my mom are some of the best teachers anyone could ask for.  Hope it helps/helped in one way or the other.

Oh and lastly 59:42 if any of you were wondering was my ACTUAL clocked time at a recent 10km marathon I joined, I just figure a time input would make a more drawing title.  Cheers!

Buttkicked at Futsal

6 - 2, 6 - 2, 4 - 4

Those were the scores from the 3 games of Futsal I played a few nights ago at Palos Verdes Country Club.  I admit I was on the downside of all 3 but I'm pretty proud of the last game draw considering the serendipitous competition we were up against.  Our opponents were literally human highlight reels and members of a visiting Singapore Freestyle Team called UST or the Urban Street Team with their sort of catch phrase (it was on their shirts) being "When Football Becomes Art" (I wanted one). Straight up this wasn't what I was expecting coming in to the gym after a one semester sabbatical that didn't fit futsal into my schedule, but to walk in and play against these guys was some of the best fun I've had on the court in ages.

Futsal to anyone not familiar with it is just indoor soccer with less players,  each side suits five with open substitution, the goals used are about 6 by 8 feet on a rough estimate but can vary in size for fun or difficulty then a real futsal court is slightly bigger than a basketball court and a soccer ball that is one size smaller but almost twice as heavy is used so that it hugs the ground a little more.  The aim of the game with futsal is close quarter control, with the single most important instruction ever imbedded in me being the four words "SOLE OF THE FOOT".  This was the one instruction most blurted out by our Coach Bob not only in my one semester training with the Ateneo Futsal Team but through out his coaching tenure.  So much so that it's a part of Ateneo soccer lore to the point that if anyone in the program would have to quote a certain coach Bob, in a heart beat I'd have to say that 90 percent will think of that one phrase immediately.  

That one phrase though definitely sums up the single most important skill you'll need to know  in futsal and anyone who can master his game on that skill alone can whoop your butt to Singapore and back, that's pretty much what happened last wednesday. Though I'd like to think we held our ground given that our side was the recreational mix up of above average soccer junkies the truth was we were cannon fodder to these guys.  In one play me and one of my random teammates cornered a guy at a corner (duh!) and somehow someway he pulled a Ronaldo out and merely dribbled his way out nutmegging my team mate in the process.  On another play I was one on one with the attacker and though I bodied him up perpendicularly so as to prevent another (at this point we've all been nutmegged in the game already) nutmeg, the dude pulled back did a quick dribble shuffle fake thing that made me commit ever so slightly that it was enough for him to turn 180 degrees before doing a backheel nutmeg before going complete 360 running passed me and leaving me stunned and agape.  With all that going on the best highlight of the night for me was another play that didn't even end up in a goal but was more of a defensive turn around.  On the particular play our team made a long chip pass to what we'd consider an open player but their last man defender saw otherwise (they didn't believe in using a goal keeper to stay true to their futsal skillz, i figured anyway) he rushed our player jumped in the air and before landing caught the ball between his knees just short of the family jewels, when he landed with the ball still between his legs the entire game took a sudden pause  with our side in awe.  As the play progressed the defender merely smiled when he saw our reaction and then rushed our side's defense but pulled himself into a corner and from there he did what I've only seen in, no actually never seen done in a game EVER!  He literally just flicked the ball mid stride, juggled it once on (what i presumed was) his off leg caught his balance and with his strong leg juggled the ball three times in opposite directions.  This made me just want to watch, and made my teammate who was on him just wide eyed and frozen.  Next he had the ball drop infront of my teammate and before my teammate could could move he (the defender turned attacker) backheeled an attempt at goal via a nutmeg that ended with the ball hitting the post and going out, only then did my teammate regain consciousness.

For the people who understood all that and are still reading thats pretty much it I don't think I can explain any further, I mean there were many more highlights I lived through that night but for the most part those were the memorable stuff.  That and I did score two goals for my side but on aggregate we went 16 - 8 with me in the line up ( 22 - 9 if you consider the games I sat out) and they barely subbed or rested their side to, that and they played in jeans and some wore baseball caps!  That tells you something of the level these guys are at.  

Oh and for those wondering what a nutmeg is, its soccer lingo for when a player can play the ball through an opposing players legs and keep possession on his side, its normally accompanied by someone on the field or court saying OLE or at least silently in their head.

That pretty much concludes my first game back into the futsal fold of Palos Verdes Country Club, to anyone interested in joining or playing a pick up game or even learning the game, we welcome walk-ins and fresh players.  

EVERY WEDNESDAY; 6-8PM; PALOS VERDES COUNTRY CLUB BASKETBALL COURT; normally pitch in 100 pesos for the game.

For the love of the game, hope to see you one day, Cheers!

Photos linked from www.facebook.com/urbanstreeteam

13 Hours; 600 Kilometers

Recently I found myself taking the longest road trip of my life, sort of, I won't count the 9 hour trip that a Manila-Vigan excursion takes because well I didn't, haven't and have no intentions of driving it.  By which I mean you don't immediately feel it because you can just doze the trip away especially if you take one of the overnight first class buses that makes the journey on a daily basis.  This trip was actually 6 hours going and 7 hours coming, I used 13 mainly because it's got a better ring to it I think and in I drove the total anyway so it's still true.  The time clocked doesn't count the regular driving i did around the city of Cagayan de Oro which is nothing in comparison when clocking anything and everything between 60 and 120 KPH.  An extraordinary coincidence we discovered on this trip is that from the gate of our house to the gateway of CdO is 300 kilometers exactly by the odometer. 

It was definitely long and draining to drive all that way even when I consider myself a driver, or rather someone who loves driving, there's a certain thrill of speeding on open roads that just gets me.  That and it's the closest I'm ever going to get to any actual high speed racing of any form, one cause I have nothing near a race car and two mom's against it.  Ironically though it was mother who called shotgun on this trip, and she didn't have anything against me swerving in and out on the single lane highway.  Uphill, downhill, zigzag, and even in the dark she didn't have much to say about me gunning it full throttle, if and ever she did say anything it was that I should at least slow down for potholes and/or bumps which I rarely did.  "Not good for the car." or "We should get the suspension checked." were the frequent remarks because of that but I had faith in my car and as I am proof here blogging we made it back unscathed, that's including the car.

One thing I have to mention, and I know I'll hear about (quite possibly later tonight) is that my mom's a terrible copilot and a barely-cut navigator.  Know that I love her to death and for majority of the trip she was the typical dream mother that I know and love, that includes conversationist and travel buddy but for the times when I really needed a copilot and a navigator she was just preoccupied or quite frankly asleep.  Case 1, in the early hours of the day we left after gassing up at a near by station she sets up her comfy travel neck pillow (which i got her) and konks herself out for the next two hours leaving me to listen to her slow and sleepy Bossa playlist till she gets up.  Case 2, on the way back she gets caught up reading tweets (including the Pacquiao-Marquez bout, which I actually got caught up in to) via 3G that we missed our lunch stop and had to double back once we reached a hotel that placed us way passed our destination (mom really wanted to eat there, The Original Roadhouse Cafe, she's gonna start her new "eating regiment" soon).  Again at this point I would like to reiterate that I love you mom, even if you are the way you are, thank you for training me well as a kid imbuing in me a great sense of direction by burying me in maps since I was old enough to read them.

That aside my mom is a pleasure to travel with, she's extremely informative when it comes to facts and locations though again, almost sadly, it takes me to get her their safe and sound one way or the other.  She knows Mindanao just like the back of her hand, I on the other hand can't even remember the names of streets around Davao.  She knows the local industries of each municipality we passed, the families that grew of those industries and even the ones who ended up dabbling in politics, to a certain degree of success I may add.  Most of this was clearly travel talk of course, but this definitely brings to mind her obvious thirst for knowledge (and on a lesser note how she remembers it all).  This thirst that got her all over the world and as much as I'd like to say I have that in me as well I honestly don't.  It's sort of like I have a different version installed in my genetic make up or something.  I have a thirst for adventure that's for sure and though I can appreciate learning and the knowledge that comes with it, I admit most of it has trouble sticking, those that stick are the sights, sounds, smells, directions, and experiences.  Then again who knows maybe over time I might just lick that problem.  Till then I'm stuck with my mom and I have no objections with that.

So lastly all along our trip from Davao to CdO I spotted places and sites along our route that made me do double takes.  Yes I know that wasn't a good thing for me to do going top speed as a driver but I am part photographer and one very acute to awesome sites.  That is on our return trip I talked mom into stopping along most of the sites I remembered, and here's what I have to show for it.  Enjoy!

Davao-Bukidnon-Cagayan Express Road (I think)

MIGO's Blog

Blogging, this is something I knew I always wanted to do the minute I knew what blogging actually was.  The idea that you can be a story teller to an audience that could span the world over, sharing stories and tales of your personal adventures or exploits being able to communicate to anyone and everyone who knew your neck of the woods.  That was something I wanted to do.  I've never been the literary type, today I tell everyone I have a stack of books that just seems to be continuously growing, which is true, but as to whether I'll ever get to reading them all is another thing all together.  I wasn't the child bookworm my mom wanted me to be growing up, but stories none the less fascinated me it didn't matter where i got them from, these were stories I learned through cartoons, movies, documentaries and comic books.  Then over time historical and cultural stuff trickled in to the fray especially when I got immersed into the art world serendipitously.  At this point I was about 6 or 7 years old and my imagination was going haywire with personal made-up exploits like being able to communicate with the multiverse of me's through the reflections of myself in mirrors, being a Power Ranger, Centurion, Swat Kat Hybrid that fought Predators and saved the Pope (yes the Vicar of Christ, the Bishop of Rome--Pope) making me something of a Templar of sorts, and of course everyone in my generations dream, being the kid that Indiana Jones & James Bond would have had if it were ever possible. . . the point is my mind was full of stories that no one but myself ever got to know about for better or for the worse.  

I didn't have much company growing up giving me plenty of time to create fictitious worlds i kinda micromanaged but truthfully, classmates aside the people I have the fondest memories of being with growing up were the cousins I got to spend 2 months a year with split between summer and christmas holidays in Davao.  Which was pretty much intentional from what I can tell now, being that the relatives I had in Manila were a stretch on the rough side and cause my mom was always overly protective of me.  This is where I tell you about my mom, the one person who has always been there for me, my real best friend.  In a good and bad way at the same time, growing up I always looked for her cause I knew she was the one person who'd always come running.  I didn't do much sleepovers when I was a kid cause she told me she couldn't go with me, at the same time those friends I had who I was allowed to hang out with were also knit-picked and background checked to make sure they were the good kind.  This could be just me of course but then I know she only did all of that because she loved me from here to infinity and beyond.  I'm not taking away anything from the rest of my family, that being my sister and my dad but quite frankly my sister didn't come along till I was graduating middle school and my dad as much as I love him for trying wasn't my preferred choice when I wanted someone to play with.  My mom is downright it, the one person I cannot live without even today, to the point that I cannot imagine going a day where I do not hug my mom at least once for no reason except that I want to.  With exception of course when she's out of town in which case i send her text message hugs or something of the sort.  My mom is my strength and she is the single person responsible for who I am today, a chef, a photographer, a diver, a boy scout, an outdoorsman, a soon to be engineer, an environmentalist, a dreamer, an imagineer, a brother, a son,  a self proclaimed mama's boy, driven by passion, and no longer afraid.

For the longest time I didn't start a blog because I was afraid no one would read it, but that's not true because I know at least my mom will read it (I hope. . .) maybe one day I'll have a steady following or maybe I'll have no one but extended family and supportive friends checking up on me from time to time whichever the case, I don't want to turn back from this I want to take this step in to something completely new to me no matter the outcome, this is as much for me as it is for whoever may find my life worth following.  

Here's to the start of something new, and here's to the road less traveled which I've recently realized I'm not traveling alone. . .

Cheers!