Livin' and Lovin'

2007-04-10T08:14:00.000+08:00

This blog has died. Fortunately, I haven't. And Im not about to.

The only comments I'm getting are from porn sites. Are they that concerned now?

2006-05-06T21:56:00.000+08:00

I am full

Kumain ako ng lechon sa children's party
Di yun ang hanap pero syang nag pa happy
Bawal daw sa may kanser
But what da heck Flora Gaser
Kung si Barney na kahit isang malaking pasa ay buhay
Ako pang normal ang kulay

Sunod pumunta 'ko sa tomatokick
Resto ng pren ko na sa art ay adick
Pumasta, sumizzling at pumita bread
Kabusugan umabot to my head...below
Kasi naman nakaka wiwi
Sa Pepsi Max and water liver ko ay nawili

I am full... to the brim
My lips met some tea right at the rim
Then I tried to download
Or else I'd explode
But gas lang ang lumabas
Not counted, walang nabawas

Di pa natapos ang pagkain
Pizza and ravioli came in runnin
Sinong bang maka resist ng Bellini's
Parang girls in bikinis,
Nakakagana, you'll want some more pa
Kaya naman nagpahabol ako ng bibingcrepe, aaah

I am full
Full, full, full
Soulful, so full
Lapit na maulol
Kaya I'll sleep na
When I wake up sana 'di na
Bonnevie

2006-05-02T11:35:00.000+08:00

Can't figure out this blog.

My most recent post doesn't appear on the home page.

This is a test. Tes tis one chu, one chu.

2006-04-25T11:13:00.000+08:00

This blogger gives me the option to choose what size I'd like the font to appear as. Tiny, small, normal, large, and huge. It pretty much shows how much choices we have today - in just about anything. At McDonald's, fries and drinks could be upsized. At Belo's, boobs could be enlarged. Wendy's has regular and light iced tea. You can do boxing, yoga, hip hop dance or wall climbing for your daily dose of exercise. And chemo I.V. could be inserted in any of about 6 visible veins in one hand by either a gay nurse, a newbie nurse, a pretty nurse, or an okay looking nurse wearing thongs.

For cancer survivors or anyone who has been given a second lease on life, an essential choice is whether to live like we used to or live like newborn babies. I choose the latter. Because not only is it nice to wear tight fitting jeans with your Pampers on, but being child like in a grown up's environment has its own benefits. Lying less (as in telling a lie) makes one feel better. Saying prayers daily is good for the soul. Giving oneself more time for playing games, sleeping or downtime regenerates the body.

Let me make you kuwento. This afternoon, I had to visit SM San Lazaro to take part in the mall tour of Art Angel - the art tv show for kids on GMA which I luckily direct now. It's quite a distance - travelling from QC to España. So, it was a relief when I got to the place. Until I saw the parking sign that said - PAY AS YOU ENTER.

99% of mall goers would probably not mind the sign. I mean what's P25.00. But for someone like me who only had P17.00 worth of coins scattered inside the car, that's one major stress alarm trigger. What made it worse was the fact that I handed 15 pesos to the watch-your-car-boy at church. So, finding no more than 12 one peso coins and 1 five peso coin, I ran my options.

A. Call the production assistant of the show to bring me P8.00. Unfortunately, she didn't answer my calls. B. Look for a Bancnet ATM around the area. Which I attempted - only to find myself driving all the way to Tutuban and not a bank sighting whatsoever. SM only had BDO ATM's. Finding other ATMs would be like a miracle. Or "to (henry) Sy is to believe". C. Text Rea Gomez of SM Prime Holdings and bitch about the parking policy. But what good would that do. D. Charm the parking attendant so they'd allow me to pay the balance upon exit. I didn't have enough guts to try therefore I didn't know if I had enough charm. E. Ask P8.00 from sales agents distributing flyers of a condo unit behind SM. In my mind, I'd say "Spare me P8.00 now and I'll buy a unit from you later." I realized if I didn't have P8.00, then how can I pay for the condo? F. Park the car somewhere free and take a jeep to SM with my coins. Not in Tondo, boy. G. Find a sampaguita vendor, borrow P8.00 and in return, take her with me to SM where I'll pay and treat her to lunch. Too complicated.

Before I came up with an even more stupid option H., thank God that Aileen, the production assistant, was able to anwer my call - of despair.

Had this happened before my cancer, I would've cursed to death and gone home frustrated - hating all of SM. However, today, I just chilled and laughed about it.

One of the rules I've applied to post-cancer life: Be happy. And it's one option I always make available to myself. Like plastic surgery - it makes me beautiful but on the inside. Who needs Vicky when you don't hit Belo your own belt?

2006-03-02T13:03:00.000+08:00

No hair, green mask. In this case, white mask. Kratos at his own fund raising efforts.

2006-03-02T13:00:00.000+08:00

Kratos in battle a week before the operation last year.

2006-03-02T12:55:00.000+08:00

Monster with Japanese hair style tries to kill Kratos when he had hair.

2006-03-02T12:47:00.000+08:00

Kratos, the God of War.

2006-03-02T10:49:00.000+08:00

Hello. These past few days, I have rekindled my addiction to Playstation 2 with an adventure game called God of War. PS2 online reviews dub it as the best adventure game there is and I must agree. As a player, one assumes the life of the fierce, sexed-up warrior Kratos who tries to redeem his past by helping the gods win the battle of athens against uhm, I don't think I'm in that part yet.

The game is a perfect combination of testosterone-inducing fights (against gigantic monsters (giants?), wraiths, sirens, meduzas, and three-headed beasts) and brain-wracking problem solving scenes. It also features the 1st controllable sex scene in the entire gaming universe. And it's even a threesome. Now you know why I haven't moved on to the final battle scene.

With Kratos, I have suddenly loved my baldness. Where before I couldn't even enjoy an NBA game because it had all the bald niggas in the world - now, I feel cool.

You know having cancer is like joining the Fight Club. But instead of the obvious bruises that are the tell-tale signs of being a member, it's the uber fashionable surgical mask and the no-hair look that gives us away. Ben Stiller has blue steel, we have no hair and green mask.

One time, at church, I saw a woman with a bandana and a mask on. Without even knowing her, I felt an instant connection. I mean, I didn't even have to approach her and ask what the number one rule of the Cancer club was? Well, for you non-cancer humans, it's "Fuck cancer. I'll beat the hell out a 'ya." Second rule is "Fuck cancer, I'll beat the hell out a 'ya." And the third rule is, "Sorry, Lord God, I will not say f**%*^#%ck anymore. Please heal me if it is your will."

Last Tuesday, I was in for my second Positive Emoticons Topography scan or something that sounds like it. PET scan for short. Imagine. A PET scan for humans. The procedure involved injecting radioactive glucose thru a vein in my arm after which I'd sit quietly in a minimalist cozy private room. After an hour, I am made to lie down on an electronic chamber that moves up and down for an hour as it scans every inch of my body. It determined how much cancer cells I still had. Cancer cells feed on the glucose and therefore light up in the monitor.

So I went in the other day thinking if I had prayed enough or changed enough in my life to merit an improvement. Had I eaten the right food? Slept early enough? Breathed deeply enough? Or could the cancer have spread in my brain or in my legs and that the end of Manny Angeles was coming soon ( to a theater near you)? I was ready whatever the result was.

The results came in an hour after through my doctor sister. I got the phone call as I ordered brocolli in a chinese restaurant. I haven't had any food for the past 15 hours as required before undergoing the test.

The result - negative for any kind of disease. There are no more cancer cells in my body. And I will undergo the last 3 to 5 chemo sessions cancer free - the fourth of which is next week.

It's surely not a home run but at least I'm on second or even third base thinking that I could win this battle.

So, thank you for your fun raising efforts, your donations, your prayers. Thank you for the love from my special friends, housemates and my dear family who have all physically shared the ordeal with me. Hi mom in heaven. Hi dad in his room here. Thanks God!

For now, see you around in my green mask. Careful though, it might not be me. This good news is prompting me to write a book which I hope cancer patients would read while undergoing chemo. The title will be "Cancer is just a haircut gone bad." And then the paper will be scented with dalandan to drive the nausea away.

Now back to my gaming.

2006-02-14T13:42:00.000+08:00

As Manilyn Reynes used to sing, and perhaps as Sheryn Regis would these days " Coz your love in me is healing, no matter what I do, if I could in my arms... is hea-ea-ling!" Truly, music heals.

Fortunately, my friends have lined up not Manily Reynes, Sheryn Regis, nor Christian Bautista (because they don't know them personally) but four of the local music scenes crowd-drawing bands all in one benefit concert on Feb.16 at Il Ponticelo. Click on the invite above for details.

Featuring 2 beers and 4 bands and a gathering of Manila's not so hippest set (because they could be at the Fort, y' know), you should be in for a few hours of healing through music. Despite a hip hop/R n B band in the lineup, you have all the right to call each other brotha' -as in Brother Noni, Brother JP, or Brother Larry as you would in actual healing sessions.

Why the heaven am I talking about healing? Because again, this concert isn't called benefit for nothing. Out of the P300 you will shell out, P50 will go to the venue, another P50 for the bands, P60 for the 2 beers, P30 for the bouncers, P20 for the creative invite design, P10 for the guard outside, P10 again for the waiter, P26 for the show's organizers, P15 for the band equipment, P18 for the usherettes. And the most important of all, P1 will go to me to fund my chemo sessions. So please go!!! A lot will benefit from this, not just me but you - because you have helped a lot.

Rock rock-an na!

2006-01-23T11:36:00.000+08:00

Why is a boxing match called a bout? Because it is a bout courage, discipline, integrity, hard work, and strength of character. It's also a bout face - getting it bruised, swollen and cut. The winner is a man a bout town.

2006-01-23T11:13:00.000+08:00

Here's a thread on yesterday's Philippine National Anthem singer. I was in the shower and when I heard her final note, I wished she was just with me... in the shower. Enjoy the grammar too.

http://forum.philboxing.com/viewtopic.php?t=33209&sid=27

IF YOU NOTICED THE SINGER JENNIFER BAUTISTA WHO SUNG THE PHILIPPINE NATIONAL ANTHEM - SHE WAS GOOD AT THE BEGINNING. PERO SA KAKA-ARTE NG PAGKANTA NG NATIONAL ANTHEM AT THE END ITINAAS "....NG MAMATAY NG DAHIL SA IYO" - YIKES ----FLAT!!!! CHECK IT OUT!

I thought Martin Nievera was there..he should be one the singing it.

Good thing Mannny won. We already lost the singing war. Mexico had Jon Secada, and all we had was the GAB chief's niece who was out of her league and out of tune.

Yes, i've noticed that! But how about the guy who sung the Mexican Anthem, are you guys sure he sung it clean ang straight? Are you guys sure he delivered the exact notes? Hahaha, I dont care how they do it, it was not the main attraction...

I heard it too and I know there's something wrong!!! She's lucky MP won or else . . . . . she would be on the headlines.

On the international scale, things like that implicitly says something. GAB chief's niece? I actually smell politics .

sintonado talaga sa ending. pero oks lang sumigaw naman sya ng "go pacman!!"

yeh i've noticed it too.....next time sana si Gavy V. ang para pure energy ang kanta hehehe

it's good for pac. when lani sang the national anthem before, pac lost. when a not-so-good singer sang it, pac won. so i think the singer played a major role in that win.

2006-01-23T11:10:00.000+08:00

What's in a name? A rose by any other name is still a rose. But Manny. The name Manny is now synonymous to hero, heart, pride, and victory. Manny will no longer just be your driver, barbero, sekyu, janitor, grocery bagger, or hardinero. Manny will be your hot hardinero. I am proud to be a Manny.

2006-01-23T10:51:00.000+08:00

What was going on in Manny's head? "I'll make ilag to my right. Wait, ano na nga ba the step? Right, right, double, double. Naku he punched me again, that Erik. To the left, single, double, double. Galing talaga my coach Douglas Nierras. Powerdance talaga!"

2006-01-23T10:45:00.000+08:00

Binibining Boxing Queen 2006

2006-01-23T10:44:00.000+08:00

Finding Chemo. The best chemotherapy side effect is my astounding weight loss. The treatment kills cancer cells and fat. Many years from now, I want my grandchildren to say "Is this you lolo?" And I will proudly reply, "Look at my abs." In truth, I now have cuts in my upper body. They all came from the operation last November.

2006-01-23T10:27:00.000+08:00

Forget Lance Armstrong (for today). Manny Pacquiao is my new inspiration to win the battle against cancer. Cancer is El Terrible. So is chemotherapy. That's why if chemo were a boxer, I'll hit him with my right hook, and jab him straight in the face. That bastard hit me hard on the body.

Like Manny. I wanna be like Manny. Everybody wants to be like Manny.

2006-01-10T12:17:00.000+08:00

I got out of the hospital last December 23. My dad went in December 25. We like to hang out in the hospital, ya' know. In fact, I went hospital hopping last year. From the Heart Center to the National Kidney Institute to my alternative doctor's clinic in Paranaque to St. Luke's. I will put up St. Embassy Center soon. It'll be the happening place of 2007.

2006-01-10T12:13:00.000+08:00

Christmasks Eve at home

2006-01-10T12:12:00.000+08:00

I'm at a loss for hair. This drug did it to me.

2006-01-10T12:09:00.000+08:00

Give it to me, babeh

2006-01-10T12:08:00.001+08:00

High, everyone!

2006-01-10T12:08:00.000+08:00

Lord of the (Cancer) Wing

2005-12-29T00:22:00.000+08:00

I wrote this right before new year. I'm just posting it now.

There is a bit of a signal here in my room so I am able to post tonight. My network adapter is 2 years old and can hardly penetrate walls.

Today is the best I've been in a month and half. I've been looking forward to this condition for some time now. I realize health is a gift, a privilege handed to us by God. So, if you're not feeling sick or any pain at all, give thanks.

I like dreaming nowadays. Because in my dreams, I can walk normal, talk a lot, go out of the house, swim. In there, well, I don't have cancer.

This morning, Tim Yap was on the fone and I was asking him if he could feature something for me in Inquirer's Super. Do I still like dreaming after I've spoken with Tim? I like Tim. I will follow Tim. (Follow Tim wherever he may go)

The other night I was in Hawaii running from one rooftop to another. The tsunami waves were coming fast!

On another night, I was hanging from the La Salle Gym's dome - on its ceiling. And guess who I was with? Da Boy as in Rudy Fernandez and Ogie Alcasid. If you wonder what's my connection to Da Boy, well, I remember Da Boy but I don't remember the feeling anymore. We were actually introduced by Peachy - Ruffa Mae as she is known on screen. I had the honor of playing doubles with her in badminton a couple of times. I drove the cock straight home - to the opponent.

Enough of the (west) side story, I slid down from a rope ala James Bond, bounced from one of the pillars and gently landed on my feet. I was so ecstatic in my dream that I woke up laughing. Hardiharhar!

I dreamt even more after that - joining a swimming class in UP - in an indoor pool, having a car tint business in my garage but explaining to customers that my real business was doing videos, walking in Old Virra Mall, and a lot more I can't recall.

If only I could record my dreams and play them in the morning...

2005-12-24T18:15:00.000+08:00

My ghetto house is a certified wi Fi zone! Needing some fresh air, I decided to step out of the house and breathe in the freshest air my neighborhood could offer. You see, adjacent to my house is a sweet community junk shop. Right across is a bunker oil truck garage. But I don't mind. Wearing a double layer mask should filter what my body shouldn't be taking in. Besides, imagining my future landscaping projects has kept me up all afternoon.

Sitting here, I felt the urge to write a long overdue AVP script for a client. Something I've been trying to work on since I was in the hospital a week ago. So, I took out my 3 year old laptop and ALAS! Excellent wifi signal.

If you'll excuse me, I'll have to write the script while I drive away out-of-tune carollers with my Power Rangers Look.

2005-12-24T15:44:00.000+08:00

Cancer in September is probably going to be the story of my life as a cancer patient. I would've gone for a wittier privatecancer blog link, but it's hard to be always funny when you know you have cancer. Because as one so luckily chosen by the disease, I am made to feel a lot of new things in my body - mostly unpleasant. And then there's a lot going on in my head - questions (but never the why me, God?), business strategies, life strategies, dreams - to actually come up with anecdotes for the most part of this blog.

But don't despair, fans of mannyla (the legion I had in K2). I'll insert some humour here and there. In fact, this morning while I was watching Le Bron James and the Cavs play (piko, they were outside my house), my yaya in her mandatory surgical mask comes in my room and hands me the fone whispering "Chua daw.". Hesistant to take in calls from people I don't know, I grab the fone anyway and say "Hello?." The person on the other line sounded so familiar with me but his name wouldn't register. So he says "Ken Chua, to." Then, like I know him, I say "Oi! Teka, sorry who's calling again?". Finally, he says "Ken Chua, K2!"

Like I never used his house to shoot Joyce Jimenez and G Toengi.