Continue reading »]]> Honestly, when I was growing up and going through the Catholic school system, I don’t recall there being much talk in terms of exclusion. I mean, if I think about it, my high school had a couple of Hindu students, and I’d guess they didn’t necessarily feel like they were not welcome for not following the faith. Yes, the system treated me well. So, when I hear about all of the things that went on in school board meeting last night, it kind of saddens me. I mean, shouldn’t we be inclusive, and care for one another despite differences? And to rule that right to protect religion come above general human rights? I…don’t know what to make of it. I’m just sad. Really sad.

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At around noon I was about to leave my place to head for church. A peeked out of my door’s peephole and spotted someone waiting by the elevator. I decided to wait until she got on before I headed out. When I closed my door, I was surprised to see that the elevator door was malfunctioning. I had experienced something similar earlier in the day when I left for run club. The elevator door had closed, then reopened on its own. It was silly, but I figured it was just a one time thing. Apparently not. The door was opening and closing for the woman several times. I got on hit the close button. The door finally closed. Turns out the woman was an older Filipino mother. She had grey hair and was pretty innocuous. I guess she recognized that I was Filipino as well so she asked if I was headed for church. I responded in Filipino in polite language. I guess she sensed that I was a good guy with the polite language, and with the missal in hand. She asked if I was headed for the nearby church. I said that I was. Out of the blue she asked if she could get a ride over. She was planning on walking, but she decided to ask. It all happened so fast, and I figured that she was harmless, so I agreed. As we walked over to my car she asked about my family and what provinces they were from. Apparently she had two kids that were about my age. Just like me, they could understand Filipino but weren’t adept at speaking it. Anyway, by the time I parked at the church I felt that I trusted her. She was too much like my own mother. In the end, I made a new acquaintance. She was very thankful for me helping her.

I know. I have a trusting nature. It’s the type of thing that can get taken advantage of. All the same, I feel like I can trust my judgement. I would like to think that I can tell if someone’s up to no good, you know? Besides, she was making as much of a judgement call on me as I was about her. Maybe it indicates that I have a general sense of faith that not everyone is out to destroy me. This is a good thing.

Continue reading »]]> Spent the afternoon with the family by attending the Good Friday service at the church close to us. This would be the first Easter weekend that I spent at this church. Even though I lived in the area last year I still made the trek over to the old church that I went to for a decade before. What I like about that old place is that it seems to be a bit more folk-oriented. It’s a bit more youthful and energetic. Overall, it’s a happy place. As good as it is, it’s kind of far. Since my parents moved, they’re about a 2 minute walk to a church. So that’s why I decided to join them this year. Well…I can now say that it makes me miss the other church. This one is larger and more beautiful, but it just doesn’t feel as inviting. It’s stuffy and has poor ventilation. The priests are old and speak softly. They carry the mass at a glacial pace. I was nodding off a few times. It wasn’t pretty.

Ideally, the venue shouldn’t matter, right? Practically, I still need to find a place where I want to spend time, know what I mean? Now, I just need to figure out how willing I am to travel far out east just to attend mass. Hmm.

Continue reading »]]> Not sure why this popped into my head, but I suddenly thought about a few moments back in high school. These flashbacks are to a few moments where I stepped into my school’s chapel. Especially later on in my high school career I’d find myself with a spare period or two with nothing much going on. Sure, I often hung out in the cafeteria with classmates and acquaintances, but there were times when I just needed to get away from all of the noise. Sometimes I would take the time to venture into the chapel. The small chapel really was like an oasis of silence. It was always eerily quiet. I liked sitting there to recollect my thoughts and to just recentre myself.

The chaplain for the school was a Carmelite nun who was probably in her 50′s at the time. Whenever I ventured into the chapel she was either out and about or in her office. I didn’t really have many encounters with her. There were two though that kind of stick out in my mind. On one occasion I was just sitting there in a chair in thought and prayer. She came out and greeted me. I greeted her back. She asked what I was doing in the chapel. Before I could answer she had a follow up question: “are you in trouble?” That struck me as a bit odd. If I was a troublemaker, would I attempt to seek refuge in the chapel? Would the school administration be somehow prevented from entry? And the big question bothered me: did it look like I was a troublemaker? Maybe she asked that of all the students that entered. That wouldn’t be welcoming at all. In the end I told her that I wasn’t in trouble and that I was sitting in the chapel just to get some peace and quiet. She agreed and said that this was the place for silence. And that was the end of that encounter. Odd, no?

Now, I’m not sure whether this is a case of my memory malfunctioning, but I recall having the exact same conversation with her months later. I ducked in there for a few moments and the first question she asked was whether I was in trouble. I was frustrated that time because she obviously didn’t remember me, and again, did it look like I was a rabble rouser? So delinquents frequently hang out there? What is it? I didn’t really over think at the time, attributing her questions to a general distrust of the motives of the student body. No matter. I’d like to think I turned out to be one of the good ones. Too bad she didn’t really recognize it back in the day.

Continue reading »]]> Maybe I’ve mentioned it here before, but I know I’ve told a couple of people that my parents decided to sell their house. I can only imagine that it’s a difficult thing to transition from striving to buy a big spacious house to cutting back and moving into something smaller. With me out of the house, it only makes sense for them to downsize. Therefore, I fully support their decision. They need to enjoy their years instead of finding themselves entirely concerned with just paying the house off, you know?

Anyway, the process of selling the house started at the beginning of April. It seemed like things were going well. The house had a lot of showings, and a heck of a lot of the people that came by liked the house. They seemed interested and were very complimentary. My parents patiently waited for an offer to come in, but one never came. After a few weeks, the frustration was starting to kick in. I was starting to become worried myself because I didn’t want to see them go through such trouble, you know? I was telling a friend about this worry when she mentioned a little bit of related Catholic folk magic that seemed to have a following. All of it revolved around making a petition to St. Joseph who’s the patron saint of the family and home. Legend says that if you bury a statuette of St. Joseph in the ground and ask for your house to sell, the house will sell shortly thereafter. If you search the Internet, you’ll find a good amount of stories from people that believe that this worked for them. I passed this bit of lore over to my parents, and they decided to give it a shot.

On Friday morning, they went over to a religious article store and bought a small statuette. When they got it home, my father buried it in the front yard and they proceeded to make the petition. Heck, so did I. I just wanted my parents to be happy. The weekend came and went with a couple of showings, but nothing. Monday came and two families dropped by. The first one was ready to make an offer but they went well below asking price and had a ridiculous amount of conditions. Both my parents and their real estate agents were frustrated. A second family came by shortly after that was more amenable. The family’s kids were all over the house and were enjoying the deck out back. The family also placed an offer and actually went a bit over asking price. And that’s the family that sealed the deal. So yes, my parents went from having tons of showings but no offers, to having two offers on the same day.

I know, it’s going to sound a little bit insane to attribute any part of this to the lore, but for me I’m willing to believe. Why not? Yeah, it’s unscientific, and just crazy…but it’s also fun to think that this had an effect. So yeah, much gratitude goes up to St. Joseph for looking out for them. Once the deal is fully done I expect my mother to dig up the statue and put it up some place for people to see. It sure is an interested story to tell, isn’t it?

Continue reading »]]> It was quite a curious day for me today, and to be honest I’m not really sure how to process it all. I suppose, first of all, let me get this out of the way–I’m now a Godfather to a second child. The first time I was asked to be a Godfather was many years ago for a cousin’s kid. By now he should be in his teens–I’m glad he’s doing well. Anyway, the main story is a little bit convoluted. This time around it’s for my father’s friend (a kababayan…a paisan!) whose daughter just gave birth to a child. See, at the time they had more female Godparents for the child’s upcoming baptism than male ones. I’m not sure what was going on, but I’ll assume that they just couldn’t find another guy to fill the role, so my father’s friend asked me to be a Godparent. Maybe it was just because the friend genuinely liked me. I’m not sure. Now, when I heard the news through my own parents, that’s when I first learned of the custom for a child to have many ninongs and ninangs (Godparents). Heh. I suppose it’s a cultural thing. My mind is used to the role being one conferred to just two people, you know? In any case, yes, I was honoured to do so–puzzled, but honoured. Thing is, even though I knew my father’s friend, I didn’t know her daughter at all. I haven’t even spoken to her. Thing is, how can I say no?

For this event, I knew I didn’t have that many (kind of formal) clothes which is why I went to Moores last weekend. My original intention was to wear the new shirt, my dark jeans, new shoes and the new blazer. I put it all together this morning, only to notice that my jeans smelled like hot pot from this past Friday. I tried airing it out in the dryer with a fabric sheet. When I wore everything together, I looked exactly how I wanted to look, but when I sat down my pants smelled like chicken broth. Yeah, that prompted me to make other plans. I switched to another pair of jeans, but they seemed too casual. Twitter people suggested that a baptism required me to lean more formal, so I switched to pinstripe pants which are really the only pair of formal pants I’ve got that aren’t a size too big. Bah. My big fear was overdressing, but no matter, I had no choice.

The baptism itself was fascinating, though awkward for me. I recognized maybe…a handful of people in our party. Those people were all my parent’s contemporaries. As for my contemporaries…yeah, no clue. The whole thing about pairing off ninongs and ninangs? Nope…didn’t happen. As I was there I couldn’t help but think that I was so clueless about this cultural thing. There were two other families there that had just a limited number of Godparents. I understood those families. For our party it was sort of an amusing melee. Even though I was confused I just smiled and followed the lead of everyone else. It was only in the church when I first saw the daughter and her baby. The baby was so cute! It took me a while before I figured out who the father was among the many people. Up to this point I still don’t know his name. Awkward!

By the end of the ceremony everyone was taking pictures. I was told to pose with the baby. I was so reluctant but they were insistent. I got my turn and awkwardly held the crying child. With so many flashing lights, I can see why he was crying. God, I had no freaking clue how to hold the baby. All I could do was hold him awkwardly (apparently) and grimace. Soon enough I’m sure someone was like “get the damn baby away from that guy!” When I passed him on, I just went back to the pew with my parents. I looked over to mom, and she understood. Someone commented that I didn’t know what I was doing. Duh.

So, in the end, I fulfilled my role. I still don’t think the baby’s mother knew who I was. Did it really matter? It’s more important for her to cater to people that she actually knows, no? I don’t think I’m going to have any role in this life, to be honest. Though, due to what happened I guess that even if I don’t see him again I will have a spiritual connection to him. As much as I’m confused about what happened, I do know that I’m going to keep baby JB in my thoughts. May he grow up strong, loved, and of strong faith.

Continue reading »]]> Just another lazy Sunday today. Back on Thursday, at the end of the work day I emailed a document I was working on to myself in hopes that I’d work on it some point between Friday and today. Well…at least I had good intentions. Thing is, I know very well that I was unlikely to spend time at home working on it. It would have been a different story if I was far from being finished, but no, the document has decent progress on it. There are also some open questions against the project that need to be answered before I write about them, so I would have been stalled anyway

Funny how I seem to be attempting to justify it.

Anyway, since I’ve got nothing much I figure I’d pick a picture that showed up in the “Random from Viewport” widget on the right and give a few words on it. I ended up choosing a picture from my trip to Japan in June 2006. On one of my first days in Tokyo, me and a couple of travel companions headed over to the beautiful Meiji Shrine complex on the west side of the city. If I recall, it’s pretty much adjacent to Harajuku station and a short walk to Takeshita-dōri which is that fashion forward place that Gwen was going on about in her pop albums. It’s accessible from the JR Yamanote line via Harajuku station, or the Tokyo Metro Chiyoda line from Meiji-Jingūmae station, which can be translated as “in front of Meiji Shrine.” How descriptive.

Anyway, Meiji Shrine is a Shinto shrine. This is where you would go to pay respects to Emperor Meiji and Empress Shōken. What’s pictured here is a part of the complex where there are a huge number of these wooden plaques. These are called ema. You would buy these ema prayer boards and then write a prayer or a wish or some form of thanks on them. You then hang these boards on a designated rack. Now, what’s pictured here is just one rack, but at the Shrine there are many more racks right next to this one. These are meant to communicate with the spirits. Now, when you consider the fact that these boards hold what amount to the hopes, dreams, and wishes of thousands of people, it’s an extremely powerful symbol.

I’m not planning on heading back to Tokyo anytime soon. However, if I somehow found myself there again at the big Meiji Shrine I would buy an ema. What would I write on it? I would pray for peace. I would wish for someone to come into my life to change my life for the better. Most of all, I would give thanks for all of the blessings I have in my life: family, a place of my own, a job, and nice things. I wonder if that’d all fit. Guess I’d just have to write smaller.

Hey, so what would you write on an ema prayer board?

Continue reading »]]> When my radio turned on this morning, I was noticing that the playlists were particularly loaded with all this love sentiment. It took me a while before I figured out that the station was on a love-song bender for the day. I got up and shut the damn thing off.

If I peeks over to the “Around this time…” widget on the left I can see I’ve written about V-day a few times. How I feel about today seems to be documented, so I might as well just do a quick roundup.

Happy…Thursday?
How my job has gotten me to associate the day with stress through negative reinforcement.

Red Day
The act of getting through the day, trying not to feel like crap.

Gazing
Astronomy revealing a more romantic bend.

Nice. Well, my situation hasn’t changed since last year. That’s fine because I’ve got a lot more important things to fret over–like my job, the mortgage, and car payments. Still, I can pray for change on occasion. On the BBC News website I read that the RC church in Britain is encouraging people to seek intercession from St. Raphael who’s the patron saint of happy encounters instead of St. Valentine, from whom you’d seek intercession from if you’re already in a relationship. The distinction makes sense, but I didn’t even know it existed.

Perhaps I should take a moment here to draw another distinction. When I say, “I’m fine,” it’s not in the sense of any finality. It’s more of a “I can deal with my situation” type of thing. If changes occur, I will do what I can to welcome them into my life.

As a final note, this is what Phil Booth’s horoscope on The Star says for me today:

Scorpio (Oct. 24 — Nov. 22)

Your mind is racing ahead of where you are. Fear of the future is causing needless anxiety. Given all you’ve got going for you, there is nothing you should worry about. Let a benevolent destiny lead the way.

The appropriateness for today amuses me.

Continue reading »]]> So, some people say that how you spend January 1st is an indicator for how the rest of the year will play out. Well I certainly don’t say that, but hey, for this post I’ll play along. The day isn’t exactly over yet, but I think I’ve gathered enough empirical evidence to be able to make a statement. I say, this year I will: grow stronger in faith, be more active, and be likely to make multiple racial faux-pas.

So, first thing this morning, I went in to church because today’s a day of obligation. I couldn’t go with my parents because I had other plans that I had to squeeze in before noon. I felt all right about being there so early in the morning, if only because it’s a fine way to start the year. Consider the Japanese. It’s customary on January 1st to make a trip to visit a shrine or a temple.

Anyway, after mass I rushed home, got into my running gear and drove up to Markham for this year’s (last year’s, I guess) Resolution Run. It’s a 5K round the block affair meant to symbolically mark this year as one where I’m going to commit to living a (relatively) healthy lifestyle. Yeah, plus they give a free jacket if you register which, I’ll admit, was incentive for being there. I layered up well: running tights, track pants, long sleeve shirt, t-shirt over, jacket, mesh baseball cap, and gloves. The weather reports were indicating that it was going to be cold, so I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t going to suffer from being too cold. I mean, I’ve been on too many runs where some part of me is unbearably cold making for a miserable run. The crowd was large, though smaller than last year’s run. The course was, for the most part, similar to some of my regular running routes. It involved some steep inclines–which was cool because it meant a lot of downhill breaks. Conversely it meant there were a few challenging uphill climbs.

I wasn’t intent on really doing the race really fast. With all of the ice and snow on the ground, I knew that I was going to have a hard time through some parts. That’s basically how it was. Some parts of the sidewalk weren’t clear. Running on the snow was hard on the ankles. I just kept on going. Everything was smooth going downhill. I felt like I found a rhythm, but I also felt like it was a bit more difficult than usual. As I rounded the turnaround point, I felt myself slow down. Heading back up the big hill was just brutal. My breathing was hard, and sweat was streaming down my face. I was regretting having so many layers on. Well, by the time I got to the top I was shocked at just how much difficulty I was having so I decided to pump up the effort for the last kilometre back. The result? Well, the race wasn’t chip timed, although, according to my watch, I made it back in a faster time that my PB at the Island race. Whoo! So, if the paths were clearer I can say that I might have done even better. Nice! As I was speaking with people back at the store, just about everyone was commenting about how the uphill climb really took a lot out of them. People were attributing it to partying hard the night before–so what excuse do I have? Hmm. Overall the race was really fun. It seemed like most people there knew me. I got a lot of “Happy New Year, Jason!” greetings, so much so that some random people I didn’t know started joining in to greet me. That amuses me greatly.

Anyway, so here’s where the racial faux-pas comes in. Back at the store, at the snack table I spotted this Chinese guy who had also run the race. In my mind a lot of alarms were going off. This was one of the guys I ran with during the 2007 Run for the Cure. At least, I thought it was–I wasn’t sure. It’s been a while. So, I went up to the guy, and I said, “Hey, I think I know you.” He just looked at me blankly and said told me otherwise. I smiled and with an “oh, sorry” I ducked back into store. Well, sure, cases of mistaken identity happen all the time, right? I normally wouldn’t tie this in as a racial thing. However, within the past month at work I was passing around a link to All Look Same to my colleagues to see how they’d do. I can say that I did a little bit higher than the average probably indicating that I can discern a little bit better than the average person. Hahah, then this happens. As a result, I felt kind shitty. I know I’m over-thinking this. No matter.

In any case, the year’s off to a good start. May many blessings come this way this year.

Continue reading »]]> A priest from Kenya visited our parish today to celebrate mass and ask for monetary aid for his diocese. He was really well-spoken and knew how to delivery the homily with emphasis. I just wanted to share one thing that stuck out at me from the words he spoke:

A hopeful man is someone who can face anything that life throws at him; it’s because of hope that he can do so.

That’s pretty deep. I think those words will stick with me for a while.