While on my way to lunch, I chanced upon this man sitting in the tiled floor of the skywalk in the Robinson’s-Osmeņa Boulevard area. He was sketching a tree using a cheap ballpoint pen. His finished works, really exceptional ones, were displayed on the skywalk floor beside him, priced at 345 pesos each.
(Cross-posted in Sun.Star Blog Chronicles)
After going over so many themes, I’ve finally selected one that I’m happy with for the Sun.Star Blog Chronicles, a Sun.Star Network Online section intended to cover the blogging community. Thanks to Max, Sun.Star Cebu online editor, who suggested this theme and who took care of the necessary improvements.
The Sun.Star Blog Chronicles is not even halfway ready. In the process of putting it out, other tasks came up delaying the launch of the section. I am, however, forced to hasten its completion because contributor J. Angelo Racoma already wrote about it in his blog. I guess thanks to him, too, for speeding things up.
We’re still accepting bloggers into our pool and coming up with publication rules and guidelines. Some of the submissions will see print in Sun.Star newspapers.
Other things lined up involve sections with reader-generated content and contributors from outside mainstream media.
The Saturday issue of Sun.Star Pampanga will banner the story of the Angeles City jail warden who was found dead in his quarters earlier Friday, an apparent suicide.
The reason? He was reportedly worried about the investigation being sought by the US embassy on the death of an American national, a former US Navy man, while locked up in the Angeles jail.
My son has been bratty all week, wanting my undivided attention, and I’ve been equally temperamental, shaking him off with angry words. He times his tantrums when I’m busy with work and my patience is thin.
When unable to wrench me away from my PC, he resorts to emotional blackmail, sobbing on the bed if I don’t stop what I’m doing to play with him. I usually ignore him.
Today’s afternoon rain reconciled us. We stopped what we were doing to step under that pelting shower. Hesitant at first, turned off by the cold, we found courage and made a dash for the deserted street and freedom. We ran, laughing and giddy, stomping on the puddles that formed on the pot-holed subdivision road.
We turned our faces up to the heavens, eyes closed and arms outstretched, feeling each single drop of rain on our skin. Everything was all right with our world.
On the way to the office, my cab stopped at a red light. On cue, a grubby kid—looking helpless, hungry, miserable—appeared on the cab’s passenger window, begging for money.
I’m torn between giving and not giving. I’m afraid the light will turn green the minute I open the window and hand over the money. I’m scared that he’ll grab my bag. I’m eating and I do not want to dirty my hands. I feel guilty that I’m having cheeseburger and fries, inside the cool interior of the cab while he swelters outside, so I act as if I do not see him.
WARNING: Major spoilers
I’ve just finished reading JK Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. It’s shocking how it ended. A major character dies.
As to the identity of the Half-Blood Prince, it was only near the end when it was revealed. It’s not Harry or Voldemort but this Half-Blood Prince is responsible for the biggest blow delivered ever to Hogwarts or the Order of the Phoenix.
