<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595</id><updated>2011-11-28T08:03:30.922+08:00</updated><category term='Motherhood'/><category term='pinay pride'/><category term='nothing left'/><category term='Marriage'/><category term='Quotable Quotes'/><category term='inspirational stories'/><category term='onli en da pilipins'/><category term='personal'/><category term='advise'/><category term='news'/><category term='society'/><category term='loveletter to Squidoo'/><category term='be thumbed'/><category term='family'/><category term='squidoo'/><category term='love story'/><category term='Women'/><category term='work'/><title type='text'>Je suis qui je suis...</title><subtitle type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;big&gt;(I am who I am)&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A reflection of what it means to be a woman and a Filipina, no less, in a world mainly dominated by men(?). With juicy tidbits about the Filipino lifestyle and the world in general...&lt;/p&gt;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-4121126832656488770</id><published>2007-10-27T23:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T23:51:09.970+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye...</title><content type='html'>I am finally putting this blog to rest. No, I am not deleting it. Its just that I am not going to continue writing articles for this blog. I have my own hosted blog now, &lt;a href="http://www.bethumbed.com/"&gt;Be Thumbed&lt;/a&gt;. So for those who would like to know more about me, to read more about my ramblings, pack up your bags and head on to &lt;a href="http://www.bethumbed.com/"&gt;Be Thumbed&lt;/a&gt;. Thank you everyone for your support.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-4121126832656488770?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/4121126832656488770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=4121126832656488770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/4121126832656488770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/4121126832656488770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/10/goodbye.html' title='Goodbye...'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-2817076245705707525</id><published>2007-08-11T01:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-11T02:04:08.337+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='onli en da pilipins'/><title type='text'>Noodles, anyone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A friend sent me this email message, I do not know its authenticity but then again, it makes for an informative read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew up believing that eating noodles gives you long life and it has to be loooong noodles as in DO NOT CUT.  I ate all kinds of noodles, I love noodles. Noodles kept me alive during my college years when I was away from home and have to budget my allowance, I bought boxes of noodles. Instant noodles, pancit canton, instant spaghetti etc etc. They were my staple food, easy on the budget and lots of flavors to choose from. But now, I might lay off on the noodles, so what gives?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is supposed to be an article from the Philippine Star:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The reported cause of actor Rico Yan's death is nightmare or bangungot.Medical  investigators in China, Japan and several Asian countries who performed  autopsies on persons who died from "acute hemorrhagic pancreatitis" found out  that the majority of them had eaten NOODLES as their  supper. This was a startling finding. However, it wasn't the noodles that caused  nightmares but dehydration. Imbibing even with a few drinks of alcohol or just  eating noodles immediately before bedtime compound this on an empty stomach will  trigger an electrolyte imbalance and other factors that causes a person to  dehydrate or lose water.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It is therefore advisable for a person to take several glasses of water before bedtime if he had a few or several alcoholic drinks. Avoid eating noodles before bedtime, but if you cannot avoid it, allow at least two hours for the body to digest the noodles before hitting the sack and drink plenty of water. The most important thing is, never go thirsty when going to bed and be sure you have plenty of water during your 8-hour rest...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-2817076245705707525?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/2817076245705707525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=2817076245705707525' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/2817076245705707525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/2817076245705707525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/08/noodles-anyone.html' title='Noodles, anyone?'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-7674343521213473423</id><published>2007-08-06T10:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T10:24:47.858+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='be thumbed'/><title type='text'>Be thumbed by BeThumbed</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/RraGSzAp_PI/AAAAAAAAAHk/NF3xzPx44aQ/s1600-h/header.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 586px; height: 101px;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/RraGSzAp_PI/AAAAAAAAAHk/NF3xzPx44aQ/s400/header.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095407685905022194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am in the process of creating a new advertising website that would hopefully be noticed by bloggers and website owners out there. The idea is to give website/blog owners a way to show their website and get some traffic in an inexpensive way. Be Thumbed will be a directory of sorts, but only thumbnails linked to your sites will be shown. I am thinking of having some pop-up info box, but everything is still under development.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I am offering free thumbslots for the first 100 registrants. So what are you looking for? &lt;a href="http://www.bethumbed.com/"&gt;Register now&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-7674343521213473423?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/7674343521213473423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=7674343521213473423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/7674343521213473423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/7674343521213473423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/08/be-thumbed-by-bethumbed.html' title='Be thumbed by BeThumbed'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/RraGSzAp_PI/AAAAAAAAAHk/NF3xzPx44aQ/s72-c/header.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-3337178944611358587</id><published>2007-08-04T05:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T06:01:18.247+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My loveletter in 1 Million Love Messages</title><content type='html'>I have always been a sucker for love letters and finding the 1 Million Love Messages Blog made me itch to write a &lt;a href="http://www.1millionlovemessages.com/2007/08/love-message-235.html"&gt;love letter &lt;/a&gt;to my little angels. I have just been informed  that my &lt;a href="http://www.1millionlovemessages.com/2007/08/love-message-235.html"&gt;love letter&lt;/a&gt; has already been published - take a look at my lovelies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.1millionlovemessages.com/2007/08/love-message-235.html"&gt;&lt;img src=http://img2.freeimagehosting.net/uploads/ba3f3fbb10.jpg border=0 align="center" alt="My Little Angels" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Want your own love letter published? Head on to the 1 Million Love Messages Blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.1millionlovemessages.com/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z149/mycitypicture/button2.jpg" width="127" height="60" align="center" alt="1millionlovemessages.com" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-3337178944611358587?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/3337178944611358587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=3337178944611358587' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/3337178944611358587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/3337178944611358587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-loveletter-in-1-million-love.html' title='My loveletter in 1 Million Love Messages'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-5502787117610574630</id><published>2007-08-03T05:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-03T05:16:29.997+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vote for me...</title><content type='html'>I have recently entered into a blogging contest by &lt;a href="http://www.bloggingtofame.com"&gt;Blogging to Fame&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you like me, please vote for my blog. Thank you in advance for all the support. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bloggingtofame.com/action.php?view=profile&amp;amp;id=2425" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://www.bloggingtofame.com/images/widgit_01_02.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-5502787117610574630?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/5502787117610574630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=5502787117610574630' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5502787117610574630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5502787117610574630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/08/vote-for-me.html' title='Vote for me...'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-8902157920988780962</id><published>2007-08-02T13:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T14:35:25.517+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='squidoo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='society'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='onli en da pilipins'/><title type='text'>Doing our share...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/RrF6bTAp_OI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Mi9NcPoZoX8/s1600-h/IMGP8728.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/RrF6bTAp_OI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Mi9NcPoZoX8/s320/IMGP8728.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093987262910823650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know that Php 350.00 can send a child to school for a year? That would include his school supplies and tuition fees.  Kindda hard to accept, right? How can a child go to school for a year for the same amount you spend eating one single meal in a restaurant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never really knew about this until my mother-in-law decided to send the boy who takes out our garbage to school this year.  I bought him school supplies for just Php 200.00 and his enrollment fee for the whole year is Php 150.00, so that would make Php 350.00 all in all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He still takes out our garbage after every school day. But we are glad to know that he is taking his studies seriously and I really hope he makes something out of his life and not just be a garbage boy until he grows old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is really hard on some people and I am thankful and relieved that my parents took great pains in giving me a proper education and making me stick to it. But the hard facts of life is still there, some parents doesn't have the resources to give their children their right to education and what's really sad is that some parents are just too caught up with their own lives to try to give that to their children. They are more concerned with their children earning them some money so that they can spend their day drinking or gambling. Children as little as 2 years old are braving the streets and the heat, begging for alms to take back to their parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These children need love, they need to be cuddled by their parents and not to be released in the streets like lambs in a lion's den. Poverty, I know is what drives these parents to do this to their little ones. But poverty is never an excuse, public education is free and these children need to be educated. What can we do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-8902157920988780962?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/8902157920988780962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=8902157920988780962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/8902157920988780962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/8902157920988780962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/08/doing-our-share.html' title='Doing our share...'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/RrF6bTAp_OI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Mi9NcPoZoX8/s72-c/IMGP8728.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-9183896772094957121</id><published>2007-07-31T11:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T11:17:13.864+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='squidoo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><title type='text'>My squidwriter</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/Rq6peTAp_MI/AAAAAAAAAHM/comSJp4E12g/s1600-h/squidwriter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/Rq6peTAp_MI/AAAAAAAAAHM/comSJp4E12g/s400/squidwriter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093194566566804674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a look at my squidoo profile picture - I am a squidwriter! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-9183896772094957121?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/9183896772094957121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=9183896772094957121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/9183896772094957121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/9183896772094957121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-squidwriter.html' title='My squidwriter'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/Rq6peTAp_MI/AAAAAAAAAHM/comSJp4E12g/s72-c/squidwriter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-7021019883547491938</id><published>2007-07-31T10:18:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T10:47:22.819+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='squidoo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loveletter to Squidoo'/><title type='text'>Loveletter to Squidoo entry</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://img528.imageshack.us/img528/1233/squidoolovefy0.jpg" alt="squidoolove" align="middle" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Poems of love I offer you for all the inspirations and smiles you gave me.&lt;br /&gt;I have never really known you before, though I knew you existed.&lt;br /&gt;But I never bothered, I never really cared.&lt;br /&gt;Then I read something that made my heart beat,&lt;br /&gt;A story - not just any story but a story in a lens.&lt;br /&gt;I never thought lenses could be used this way,&lt;br /&gt;I use my lens to see - you see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: italic;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;p&gt;I could no longer hold back, I want more, I need more Squidoo. And this - this is my tribute to Squidoo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-7021019883547491938?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/7021019883547491938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=7021019883547491938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/7021019883547491938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/7021019883547491938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/07/loveletter-to-squidoo-entry.html' title='Loveletter to Squidoo entry'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-6197329208606053590</id><published>2007-07-30T19:58:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T20:36:42.025+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='society'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='onli en da pilipins'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nothing left'/><title type='text'>They who have nothing...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/Rq3aVDAp_KI/AAAAAAAAAG8/hJCxKSkjBiY/s1600-h/cameleon3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/Rq3aVDAp_KI/AAAAAAAAAG8/hJCxKSkjBiY/s400/cameleon3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092966808746065058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Mark 9:42&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;i&gt;And whosoever shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me, it is better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I am a mother of two adorable babies and I would do everything just to keep them safe. I would sacrifice everything for them. But what of those little children who roam the streets, who make the rounds of garbage cans, who get beaten and abused? They do not have anyone, their parents are either dead or they simply doesn't care. Simply doesn't care... &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Abused, abandoned little children are everywhere, they may be your neighbors, or that adorable little girl who always smile at you at the street corner or that handsome little man selling candies at the bus station. The truth is, they are there and no one is noticing them, no one can see the emptiness in their eyes, the suffering that covers their entire being. No one bothers to see.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;As a mother, I can no longer hold back. They have been there too long. They have been suffering long enough. And I - I want to help them in my own little way. I want to open up people's eyes to the harsh reality. I come from a country where street children thrive, where babies are used as props to beg for money, where little children are sleeping in the streets with nothing on but scraps of rags, barely enough to cover their bodies. I do not want to degrade my country by sharing these realities - every country in the world has their own version and I just want to tell my version. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I am from the Philippines.  And I am going to open up your eyes to the reality of street children starting in the city where I live - Iloilo City.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt; I am originally from Negros Occidental but I spent my college days in Iloilo and am now living here with my family of four. Iloilo is such a nice, quaint little city, worlds apart from the bustling, over populated metropolis that is Metro Manila. But even this little city has skeletons in its closet.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The city is teeming with street children, children of natives or aetas – no, not just children but a whole clan of them – are making their homes in almost all overpass (and even under it) all over the city. They can be seen in sidewalks as well, with carton boxes for beds and big plastic bags for blankets. They can be seen begging for food, for money, for anything and everything outside every food establishments and supermarkets. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Walking in the main street, you will most often than not feel a little hand touching you or a voice calling you. If you stop and look at the owner of that hand, of that voice, you will see the most heart-wrenching sight of all – a little child, dressed in rags, with eyes almost glassy with hunger asking you for a few measly pesos or for a bite or sip of what you are holding in your hand. But few people notice this, they are simply too busy with their own lives to care. I have been too busy as well – too busy with trying not to notice them because I do not know how to help them. I am not rich, I have my own family to take care of. But I could no longer close my heart to them. I have to do something. That is why I am doing this – creating a &lt;a href="http://www.squidoo.com/nothingleft/"&gt;lens&lt;/a&gt; and posting in my blog to make people understand. To make people see.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I do not know how to help them other than this, that is why I am calling all Ilonggos, all Filipinos, everyone, anyone – help me help them. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Note: Image is borrowed from &lt;a href="http://www.ambafrance-ph.org/"&gt;Ambafrance-ph.org&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-6197329208606053590?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/6197329208606053590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=6197329208606053590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/6197329208606053590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/6197329208606053590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/07/they-who-have-nothing.html' title='They who have nothing...'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/Rq3aVDAp_KI/AAAAAAAAAG8/hJCxKSkjBiY/s72-c/cameleon3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-449429970709687299</id><published>2007-07-29T15:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T01:47:40.040+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love story'/><title type='text'>A Blind Fool's Confession</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/RqzNxzAp_JI/AAAAAAAAAG0/sXzTgyUKxyg/s1600-h/note.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: left; cursor: pointer; width: 185px; height: 228px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/RqzNxzAp_JI/AAAAAAAAAG0/sXzTgyUKxyg/s400/note.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092671534039432338" align="left" border="1" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It may be too late for me... too late to save my soul. But for my own good and for all those who find themselves in the same predicament, I have to do this. I may yet save someone else's soul because mine is damned, my soul has already plunged too deep into the murky waters of sin to be saved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a mistake, that, I clearly admit. But I would still do it all over again. I did not choose to feel this way, it just happened. I could stop it about as much as I can stop the sun from shining. I have no power over it - that, you must understand. That, you must remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know he is married... If truth be told, I didn't choose to see that he is married. I was in love. In love as I've never been in my entire life. I admit, I was blindly in love with a fool. A fool in love with a fool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I met him, he left me no choice but to fall madly and deeply in love with him. Fortunately for me and unfortunately for his family, he fell in love with me too. I never felt happier in my whole life. I felt as if nothing could go wrong, and nothing did... at first. But as they say, "After every storm is a rainbow." But I think that after every rainbow is a far crueler storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew he loved me and he still does, I can feel it deep inside me even if he wouldn't admit it. But still he left me when that other woman... his wife, started to suspect something. I should have known better than to trust him my life. Yes, I should have known better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he left me, I cried my heart out. But that was the end of it all. If he wouldn't have me anymore, I won't have him as well but I have to have a remembrance. Something to remember him by until I walk the earth no more. A seed, his seed - my child. He will be mine one way or another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been almost eight months since he left me, but it never bothered me because I only have less than one month to wait until I can hold my son. I decided right then and there that I would never tell him - my punishment for him. He will never come to know his son. The son that he has been longing for - something that his wife had never given and could never give him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was determined to raise my son alone, even if it cost me my life. He will grow into a man, something his father has never been. He will be responsible and loving but most of all he will not be a fool, as I once had been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I am old and ready to leave the earth. My son is no longer with me, he is already a grown man. But before I go, I want to... No, I need to tell my son the whole truth. I am no longer as selfish as I once had been. It is imperative that he knows his father before he commits a grave mistake. He must know his father... after I die. I only hope that he will understand and forgive me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I once told you that I would do the same thing all over again. I really would because it gave me my son. I know that I have been foolish and selfish for hiding the truth from my son, but the past can never be undone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please, if you see my son, tell him that I love him and that I am asking for his forgiveness. But he must not blame me. I was young and foolish. I was in love as he is right now. A love that is forbidden. Please give him this letter, a letter of a desperate mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/RqzNxzAp_JI/AAAAAAAAAG0/sXzTgyUKxyg/s1600-h/note.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic;"&gt;My Son,&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic;"&gt;I am desperately asking for atonement, I have to try, if not to save my soul, then to save someone else's. What I did was wrong but I never regretted it and never will. That you must not doubt.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic;"&gt;I was so very proud of you for choosing a wonderful woman to marry. The day you introduced her to me, I knew that you would be perfect together. She has everything that a man like you could ever ask for. A mother could never ask for someone else better for her beloved son. But it must never be, you two could never be man and wife.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic;"&gt;She may be everything that you have ever dreamed of and I know that you love each other dearly. Enough to tie the knot. But it must not be. I have nothing against her, in fact if situations are different, I would love to have her as a daughter-in-law. I am sorry, my son, for causing you pain but you have to know the truth.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic;"&gt;Brothers and Sister could never be man and wife.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic;"&gt;I love you my son, and I am sorry for causing you another pain. That of losing your mother, but I have to do this. I know my soul will be damned but I could no longer face myself in the mirror each day knowing that I have caused you too much pain. I love you and I'll always will.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic;"&gt;Your mother&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Now I must go, but before I say farewell, I need to know that you understand me. Please understand me, I beg you. I was young and blinded by love and I am a mother who loves her son too much. I was a blind fool in love. And this is nothing but a blind fool's confession.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-449429970709687299?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/449429970709687299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=449429970709687299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/449429970709687299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/449429970709687299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/07/blind-fools-confession.html' title='A Blind Fool&apos;s Confession'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_uXVvglAuux4/RqzNxzAp_JI/AAAAAAAAAG0/sXzTgyUKxyg/s72-c/note.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-5592058550368875517</id><published>2007-07-29T15:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T15:34:51.225+08:00</updated><title type='text'>New lens for my poems</title><content type='html'>I have finally decided to share my poems after some deep thinking and serious misgivings. But what the heck! Why should I care what other people think? :) Take a look at my new baby squidoo lens... &lt;a href="http://www.squidoo.com/jpalmes/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;h1&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.squidoo.com/jpalmes/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;         words of love, dreams, hope behind death and despair &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-5592058550368875517?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/5592058550368875517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=5592058550368875517' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5592058550368875517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5592058550368875517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/07/new-lens-for-my-poems.html' title='New lens for my poems'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-7683556582203528095</id><published>2007-06-06T02:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-06T02:10:47.881+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Virtu goes Squidoo</title><content type='html'>I have known about &lt;a href="http://www.squidoo.com"&gt;Squidoo&lt;/a&gt; for a very long time and i don't know why it took me too long to finally try it out. Anyway, it's a great website and it helps, in terms of SEO.. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out my &lt;a href="http://www.squidoo.com/virtulance"&gt;lens&lt;/a&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-7683556582203528095?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/7683556582203528095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=7683556582203528095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/7683556582203528095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/7683556582203528095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/06/virtu-goes-squidoo.html' title='Virtu goes Squidoo'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-5054158116295285998</id><published>2007-05-07T09:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T10:25:24.391+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Virtulance - breaking out of the norm</title><content type='html'>Having worked as a webmaster, account executive, freelance writer and designer, I have come to realize how profitable the online market is.  Having been on the forefront as well as the marketing side of the business, it is easy to say that I have what it takes to make it on my own. Now, what I need is someone to set up the first capital... hmmm... With a reliable network of friends, we came up with Virtulance Digital Solutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Virtulance is an up and coming company managed and owned by young entrepreneurs, aiming to break out of the "employee" side of the business. We have been working our asses for several bosses who could not understand us, nor give us what we deserve. We know the feeling of being oppressed (creatively, that is) and being put into the shadows. That is why, with Virtulance, our aim is to give importance to the backbone of our business - our agents. Suffice it to say, they are the bloodbank of the business, without them the business would die a slow, agonizing death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, Virtulance is set to launch on the 4th of June and the website is still under construction but we are as ready as we ever could be.  Check out our website at &lt;a href="http://virtulance.com"&gt;www.virtulance.com&lt;/a&gt; for a sneak peak of what we can offer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-5054158116295285998?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/5054158116295285998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=5054158116295285998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5054158116295285998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5054158116295285998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/05/virtulance-breaking-out-of-norm.html' title='Virtulance - breaking out of the norm'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-6171950891180932326</id><published>2007-04-24T08:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-24T09:04:13.982+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advise'/><title type='text'>The Naked Truth</title><content type='html'>What if the world we live in is nothing but an illusion? What if everything is just make believe and we are just pawns in an endless game of wit between reality and illusion? What if one day you wake up finding yourself different from who you thought yourself to be?  Would you freak out and blame your every misfortune on the first person you can think of?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WAKE UP!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look around you, open your eyes to the truth, and be true to yourself.  You are not perfect, deep within yourself, you know that. You've been hiding behind your mask long enough, now is the time to face yourself and conquer your fears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how many masks you wear, you will never find the peace of mind and contentment that you are looking for.  It is only through exposing your true self will you be able to find your self.  Don't be afraid of what people may say, they too are hiding behind big ugly masks, they too are afraid.  Look at them, pity them, they don't know what they're doing, they are confused and misguided.  But you can not change that, don't even try because you will surely fail. They have to change for themselves, no one can help them, but they can help themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are people who think themselves better than everyone else, pity them. Some may laugh at those people who have found the courage to expose themselves, pray for the atonement of their sins. Still others inflict pain and suffering to persons who have managed to find their true selves, stay away from them for they need intensive psychiatric care. Don't ever try to change somebody, for no matter how hard they try, they will never succeed unless that person decides to change himself for himself and not for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Changing for the sake of somebody is just another mask to heap on your ever growing collection. It may seem to work for a time but you yourself can tell that you're still not you and before you know it, you are again donning another mask from your endless collection. Face it, no one can ever change you except you. You are the key to yourself. You are you because you chose. So if you have to blame someone, blame yourself for all your misfortunes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Open your eyes, open your heart, throw away your masks and expose your true self.  If you want others to accept you for who you are, accept yourself first. Be resigned to the fact that you can't be somebody else, that you can not do everything, you are not Superman. Even Superman has his weaknesses, he is not perfect and neither can you be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up, stop fooling yourself. Be true to yourself. You are YOU.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-6171950891180932326?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/6171950891180932326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=6171950891180932326' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/6171950891180932326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/6171950891180932326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/04/naked-truth.html' title='The Naked Truth'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-1777418146670836725</id><published>2007-03-25T12:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T12:45:04.892+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='inspirational stories'/><title type='text'>How much does a Prayer weigh?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    Have read this story from a book called "Christmas Crosstalk". I want to share it to the world because it made my day today. It made me realize just how important God is to our lives. He really does work in mysterious ways. Read on and be inspired...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Louise Redden, a poorly dressed lady with a look of defeat on her face, walked into a grocery store.  She approached the owner of the store in a most humble manner and asked if he would let her charge a few groceries.  She softly explained that her husband was very ill and unable to work, they had seven children and they needed food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    John Longhouse, the grocer, scoffed at her and requested that she leave his store.  Visualizing the family needs, she said: "Please, sir! I will bring you the money just as soon as I can." John told her he could not give her credit, as she did not have a charge account at his store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Standing beside the counter was a customer who overheard the conversation between the two.  The customer walked forward and told the grocer man that he would stand good for whatever she needed for her family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The grocer man said in a very reluctant voice, "Do you have a grocery list? Louise replied "Yes, sir." "O.K." he said, "Put your grocery list on the scales and whatever your grocery list weighs, I will give you that amount in groceries." Louise, hesitated a moment with a bowed head, then she reached into her purse and took out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    She then laid the piece of paper on the scale carefully with her head still bowed.  The eyes of the grocer man and the customer showed amazement when the scales went down and stayed down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The grocer man stared at the scales, turned slowly to the customer and said begrudgingly, "I can't believe it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The customer smiled and the grocer man started putting the groceries on the other side of the scales. The scale did not balance so he continued to put more and more groceries on them until the scales would hold no more.  The grocer man stood there in utter disgust.  Finally, he grabbed the piece of paper from the scales and looked at it with greater amazement. It was not a grocery list, it was a prayer which said: "Dear Lord, you know my needs and I am leaving this in your hands."  The grocer man gave her the groceries that he had gathered and placed on the scales and stood in stunned silence.  Louise thanked him and left the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The customer handed a fifty-dollar bill to John as he said, "It was worth every penny of it."  It was sometime later that John Longhouse discovered the scales were broken; therefore, only God knows how much a prayer weighs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Taken from "Christmas Crosstalk" by Joel Eslaban&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-1777418146670836725?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/1777418146670836725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=1777418146670836725' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/1777418146670836725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/1777418146670836725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/03/how-much-does-prayer-weigh.html' title='How much does a Prayer weigh?'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-5433030873982722040</id><published>2007-03-25T12:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T12:24:36.435+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><title type='text'>I'm back...</title><content type='html'>Hi there... It's been too long and I know I have been taking this blog for granted. The influx of work and the kids have been keeping me too busy. Too busy to write anything worth reading...&lt;br /&gt;Well, anyway, I'm back and I'm here to stay. There would be a slight change in this blog, I would be bringing you lots of inspirational stories that I have read about and somehow touched my life and made my day. I would be writing on the sly as well, if I could. But I would be generally giving you lots of information, bits and pieces of hard to find informations about things that would be considered by other people as insignificant but would somehow have importance for some people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-5433030873982722040?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/5433030873982722040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=5433030873982722040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5433030873982722040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5433030873982722040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2007/03/im-back.html' title='I&apos;m back...'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-8050975797852426336</id><published>2006-11-18T08:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-18T08:51:30.544+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><title type='text'>Almost gone...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It's been too long since I've had the chance to visit my blog again and it took me by surprise to see that people are actually reading what I wrote. It somehow gave me a boost of confidence just when I needed it most. Today was the first time I checked the comments made by my readers and it almost made me cry to think that I am actually inspiring people in my own little way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was planning on deleting my blog today, but the comments my readers made stopped me. So now, instead of deleting my blog I'll start on writing more inspirational stories for those people who might need the extra emotional boost. Watch out world, 'coz I'm here to stay... :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-8050975797852426336?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/8050975797852426336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=8050975797852426336' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/8050975797852426336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/8050975797852426336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/11/almost-gone.html' title='Almost gone...'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-4362263512164795159</id><published>2006-10-12T15:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-18T08:53:47.130+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><title type='text'>Out of the oven...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/4771/4072/1600/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/4771/4072/320/2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/4771/4072/1600/3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/4771/4072/320/3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/4771/4072/1600/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/4771/4072/320/1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a long 9 months and the bun is finally out of the oven... :) I've given birth to a handsome baby boy last September 28 and up to now, I'm still trying to recover from all of it. It has been an overwhelming experience, it was painful and nerve-wracking but it's an experience I would never trade for anything else... Till here, got to go back to my two little angels, Khleomi Helen and Xanth Reign...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-4362263512164795159?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/4362263512164795159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=4362263512164795159' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/4362263512164795159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/4362263512164795159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/10/out-of-oven.html' title='Out of the oven...'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-5573037235065945095</id><published>2006-09-14T13:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T13:28:54.145+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Women'/><title type='text'>Would Somebody Please Explain My Husband?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I've always been clueless about what my husband is really thinking and more often than not frustrated with the fact that I can make him understand what I really want. Reading this article by Ron Lee made me begin to understand my husband a little better and I think a lot of wives are going to benefit by reading and trying it out. Here is one guy's take on why men act the way they do.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A well-known Christian author and his wife once summed up their relationship in 13 words: "Put us together, and we add up to a fairly decent human being."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When two people become one, they compensate for each other's deficiencies. If I were left to my own devices, for instance, I'd turn into the Tom Hanks character in Cast Away. But team me up with my wife, Jeanette, the Queen of Sociability, and I turn into a reasonably presentable human being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While we husbands benefit greatly from being married, we often don't communicate it well. Women are into relational nuances—the meaning behind the meaning behind the meaning. Men basically wonder if there are any more mashed potatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Relationships are usually complex, and guys are pretty basic. A husband tends to think in concrete terms. Instead of pondering his marriage, he'll picture the woman he comes home to at night, the woman with whom he has children, the woman with whom he shares his bed. Call that a relationship if you want, but you'll just confuse your husband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else about your husband do you wish you understood? Let me toss out seven things that might help explain a few of your husband's odd behaviors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;1. A man does more talking—and listening—when he's unaware it's happening.&lt;/b&gt; Most guys don't overwhelm their wife with deep inner feelings! However, there's a way to get your husband to share what's going on inside. It involves talking to him the same way his buddies do—while doing something else. Men go fishing, watch a ball game, or help each other move a pool table down to the basement. And of course, they talk a lot while they're doing these things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take it from me. If you start doing more stuff with your husband, you'll find he actually has a lot to say. And he'll listen a lot better, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;2. If a man pauses before answering a question, that doesn't mean he's losing interest in the conversation.&lt;/b&gt; Guys really get into it when they're verbally sparring with their buddies, so you might wonder why your husband can't invest that kind of passion in sharing with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a guy "shares" with his wife, he knows his every utterance carries a meaning even he doesn't realize. So he's extra careful about what he says. That explains the frequent pauses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;(Note to any husband reading this article: If your wife sits down at the dinner table after the meal, lay down the newspaper. That's one of those silent signals we're supposed to pick up on.)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;3. If your husband likes to hang around the house, he's actually paying you a compliment.&lt;/b&gt; Here's one way to tell if your husband thinks your marriage is going well. He won't work late unless he absolutely has to, and he won't overload his schedule with meetings and golf dates with his buddies. The reason? He'd rather be home with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds good so far, right? But let's say you've had a terrible week, and as Friday approaches, all you can think about is getting out of the house for a quiet dinner and maybe even a movie. You can picture the restaurant, taste the appetizer, even smell the popcorn at the theater. But your husband gets home from work on Friday and all he wants to do is stay put. Before you take it personally, remember that if he wants to hang out at home, it doesn't mean he doesn't want to do something with you. It just means he wants to do something with you at home. I realize a steady diet of staying home eventually will drive you up the wall. But for now, take it as a compliment. Maybe next Friday he'll have more ambition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;4. When your husband's a little short with you, 9 times out of 10 it has nothing to do with you.&lt;/b&gt; Some things that really bug your husband are taxes, bills, his boss, and the ever-present threat of male pattern baldness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if your husband acts less than chummy and you wonder if it's something you said, think about what else has happened in his life. He probably had some huge, last-minute project dumped on his desk that afternoon. Or maybe he just opened the mail and looked at the VISA bill. You, he loves. The credit card bill he'd gladly burn at the stake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;5. The words husband and hint don't belong in the same sentence.&lt;/b&gt; I maintain there's a perfectly good explanation for why guys are clueless. It's because wives like to hint around at what they mean; then they wonder why their husbands aren't responding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;6. Many men are clothing challenged.&lt;/b&gt; Forget those immaculately attired GQ guys; a chimpanzee would look great if he had a team of trained professionals picking out his clothes, too. Assuming you're married to a regular guy, chances are your husband suffers from a combination of fashion blindness and ensemble dyslexia. Sometimes we freeze up. Does this tie go with this jacket? Are these socks black or navy blue? If I wear the pink polo shirt, will other guys start asking me out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying guys are clothing idiots; I'm just saying we can use a little help. If it weren't for our wives, we'd be giving people the fashion willies every time we left the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;7. A guy likes to put disagreements behind him.&lt;/b&gt; Most guys think there's only one proven method of making up after an argument, and that involves getting physically close. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the immortal words of Phil Callaway, author of I Used to Have Answers, Now I Have Kids (Harvest House): "We husbands have three desires in life: food, sex, and. … we can't think of the third thing. Seriously, a happy guy makes a great husband. And it doesn't take much to make us happy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ron R. Lee, a book editor, lives in Colorado with his wife, Jeanette, and their daughter, Jessi.&lt;br /&gt;Copyright © 2001 by the author or Christianity Today International/Today's Christian Woman magazine.&lt;br /&gt;Click here for reprint information on Today's Christian Woman.&lt;br /&gt;July/August 2001, Vol. 23, No. 4, Page 50&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-5573037235065945095?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/5573037235065945095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=5573037235065945095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5573037235065945095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5573037235065945095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/09/would-somebody-please-explain-my.html' title='Would Somebody Please Explain My Husband?'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-2811253790057065054</id><published>2006-09-14T11:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-11-18T08:54:12.540+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='personal'/><title type='text'>ON LEAVE...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;To my loyal readers, though I could only count you on my fingers, I reget to inform you that I have to go on leave for two months and won't be able to update my blog as often as I can. You see, motherhood is calling and hopefully before the month ends I'll have another angel to hold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But don't worry, I'll try to put in my two cents worth whenever I can... So that's it, I'm outta here... :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-2811253790057065054?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/2811253790057065054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=2811253790057065054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/2811253790057065054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/2811253790057065054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/09/on-leave.html' title='ON LEAVE...'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-7477968401651564675</id><published>2006-09-12T17:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T17:47:23.086+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotable Quotes'/><title type='text'>Says who?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Never Far Away&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Source Unknown&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gone now, but I'm still very near.&lt;br /&gt;Death can never separate us.&lt;br /&gt;Each time you feel a gentle breeze,&lt;br /&gt;It's my hand caressing your face.&lt;br /&gt;Each time the wind blows,&lt;br /&gt;It carries my voice whispering your name.&lt;br /&gt;When the wind blows your hair ever so slightly,&lt;br /&gt;Think of it as me pushing a few stray hairs back in place.&lt;br /&gt;When you feel a few raindrops fall on your face,&lt;br /&gt;It's me placing soft kisses.&lt;br /&gt;At night look up in the sky and see the stars shining so brightly.&lt;br /&gt;I'm one of those stars and I'm winking at you and smiling with delight.&lt;br /&gt;For never forget you're the apple of my eye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-7477968401651564675?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/7477968401651564675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=7477968401651564675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/7477968401651564675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/7477968401651564675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/09/says-who_12.html' title='Says who?'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-7924915552193240257</id><published>2006-09-11T14:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T16:07:14.238+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Child's Definition of LOVE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined.  See what you think:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore.  So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too.  That's love." Rebecca - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.  You know that your name is safe in their mouth." Billy - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other." Karl - age 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs." Chrissy - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired." Terri - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." Danny - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when you kiss all the time.  Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.  My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss" Emily - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen," Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate," Nikka - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There are two kinds of love.  Our love.  God's love. But God makes both kinds of them." Jenny - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday." Noelle - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." Tommy - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared.  I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.  He was the only one doing that.  I wasn't scared anymore," Cindy - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My mommy loves me more than anybody.  You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night." Clare - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken." Elaine -age 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford." Chris - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day." Mary Ann - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." Lauren - age 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." Karen - age 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross." Mark - age 6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it.  But if you mean it, you should say it a lot.  People forget," Jessica - age 8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge.  The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.  The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.  Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked him what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him cry."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;- &lt;a href="http://www.rogerknapp.com/inspire/childsdeflove.htm"&gt;from rogerknapp.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-7924915552193240257?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/7924915552193240257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=7924915552193240257' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/7924915552193240257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/7924915552193240257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/09/childs-definition-of-love.html' title='Child&apos;s Definition of LOVE'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-2279476694889295358</id><published>2006-09-08T11:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T11:05:56.898+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotable Quotes'/><title type='text'>Says who?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;How do you know that love is gone? If you said you would be there at seven, you get there by nine and he or she has not called the police yet - it's gone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;- Marlene Dietrich&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-2279476694889295358?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/2279476694889295358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=2279476694889295358' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/2279476694889295358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/2279476694889295358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/09/says-who_08.html' title='Says who?'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-3727892483456989121</id><published>2006-09-07T14:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T15:31:01.352+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Women'/><title type='text'>I used to hate her...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Where does motherhood begins and where does it end? Does it begin with bringing your child into the world or with hearing that little one calling you mama for the first time? Does it end with that same child leaving your home to search for his fortune or with death? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Motherhood begins with the realization that you want to become a mother, that you want to have a little angel to cuddle, a little devil to chase around, a grumpy teenager who hates your every word, an indifferent adult who will only remember you during special days. It does not end with death, it cannot be measured in terms of how much or how long because to be a mother is to transcend all bounds, even death itself. A mother will never be forgotten no matter how long she has ceased to exist. To be a mother is to be eternal. Others may say that it would be better to forget ones own mother if that mother is not a good mother, if you have experienced only pain and rejection in the arms of that mother. I don't believe that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your mother will always be your mother and nothing can change that fact. You may not want your mother but you will always need her, no matter how much you think you hate her. There will always be that hidden compartment in your heart that will always yearn for her touch, her voice, her love. It won't matter whether you'll be able to experience those things, that yearning will always be there, it may be hidden deep in the dark recesses of your heart, dusty and forgotten but it will always be there. Ready to burst out at the slightest recognition from you. It will hurt you like nothing you have ever experienced but it will make you whole. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to hate my mother with a vehemence that is too strong for words, I tried my best not to see her or talk to her with everything that I have. I hated her for giving birth to me, I hated her for the person I had become, I hated her with all my heart. She never seemed to understand me, or to care for me much less love me. I hated her and I regret that part of my life with as much vehemence. If only I could erase a single part of my life, it would be the part where I hated her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never really understood my mother before I became a mother. I am only thankful that my realization did not come too late. If it did, I would carry it for the rest of my life, I would remember it everytime I look at my daughter's trusting face. I love my mother, I always have even during those years of hating her. My love for her has always been there, I just didn't want to acknowledge it. And yes, I am not proud of that fact. I was stubborn, hard-hearted, cruel even and she was just there doing nothing, hoping that someday I'll finally open my eyes. I love my mother and now I know why she was so strict with me, now I know why she always nagged me about my grades or why she tried her hardest to take me away from the man I thought I loved. It was to make me into a better person, to make me proud of my achievements and to make me realized that I made a poor choice which led me to the wonderful man I am with today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am my mother's daughter and I am proud of that fact. I will always be proud of that fact and I am hoping that someday when my daughter goes through the phase of hating me she will realize that she actually loves me before it is too late. I pity those sons and daughters who realized only too late. They will forever carry that pain in their hearts and during the loneliest and saddest times of their lives, they will yearn for the mother that they thought they hated with all their hearts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Motherhood is not all happiness, it carries with it a big responsibility and a huge possibility of rejection. To be a mother is to shed a vast amount of tears enough to fill an ocean, to accept enough barbs to rival a huge porcupine, to extend enough patience to embrace the universe and beyond. But being a mother also means laughter extravaganza, love and kisses to fill all boxes in the world to overflowing, hugs galore and so much more. It is not easy to be a mother, but the rewards more than make up for every tear you will shed. No, It is not easy being a mother...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-3727892483456989121?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/3727892483456989121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=3727892483456989121' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/3727892483456989121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/3727892483456989121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-used-to-hate-her.html' title='I used to hate her...'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-6399154044617818753</id><published>2006-09-05T17:08:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T17:08:44.551+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotable Quotes'/><title type='text'>Says who?</title><content type='html'>Finish each day and be done with it. &lt;br /&gt;You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities have crept in; &lt;br /&gt;forget them as soon as you can. &lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit &lt;br /&gt;to be encumbered with your old nonsense. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;- Ralph Waldo Emerson&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-6399154044617818753?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/6399154044617818753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=6399154044617818753' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/6399154044617818753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/6399154044617818753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/09/says-who_05.html' title='Says who?'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-6067087330856892210</id><published>2006-09-04T15:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T17:50:00.157+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Motherhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='onli en da pilipins'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pinay pride'/><title type='text'>To be a mother and a Filipina...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;i&gt;“One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman.”&lt;/i&gt; -Simone de Beauvoir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a Filipina is not an easy thing. To be a Filipina mother is an almost impossible task. Almost but not quite... I am a Filipina, soon to be a mother of two and a working mom at that. I became a wife to a wonderful husband and a mother to a beautiful baby girl at the age of 22, a young age you might say. To be young and free from all responsibilities, living only for your own self. That was what I was doing before the bomb dropped, and in 9 short months I was straddled with a baby I don't know how to take care of in a rented apartment with a husband trying to provide us with everything we need, miles and miles away from our respective families. It was not easy, it was absolutely difficult and some days you can find me crying to sleep wishing things were different somehow wishing that I could undo the past. But past is past and there's nothing I can do about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an ordinary day when I had an epiphany, it opened up my eyes and I was suddenly stricken with the fear of going back to the way I was before. You see, if I could undo the past then I would not have  my daughter and my husband. I would not experience happiness like the first time I held her after 36 hours of agonizing labor, I would not have the pleasure of seeing my bestfriend, my husband every single day I wake up. It was then that I realized that everything happens for a reason. It may not have been clear to me at first, but now I know and am very thankful for the life that I am living right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I am again a working mom. Work, as all filipino are aware of, is hard to come by in our country, you have to work your butt off for 8-9 hrs for a measly amount. But work we must have, especially for those moms and dads out there hoping to give their children a decent life and an education. And I tell you, it is not easy. It is not easy to leave your child crying and shouting for you to come back when you leave for work everyday, it is not easy to go home at night exhausted with barely enough strength to kiss your child goodnight and most often that not finding them asleep tired from waiting for you to finally come home, it is not easy trying to keep up a decent conversation with your husband when both of you are worn - out for the day, it is not easy being a mother, it is not easy being a wife, it is absolutely not easy being a working mother and wife. Can you think of an extremely difficult thing? I can... It is to be working Filipino mother and wife. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? Because to be a Filipina, you have to endure all hardships with a smile, to always be ready to sacrifice your life for the sake of your loved ones, to always lend a helping hand even if you don't have enough for your own, to comfort others when you need to be comforted yourself, to smile and let everyone see you're happy although your heart is screaming in pain. To be a Filipina is to sacrifice everything that you have, to be a Filipina mother you have to face all challenges and all problems that life throws at you in order to keep your family intact. These are inherent qualities of all Filipinas. These characteristics she carries with her wherever fate brings her. It is what makes her unique, it is what makes me unique and proud to say that I am a Filipina mother. I may not be all of the above, but I am a Filipina and I am a mother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-6067087330856892210?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/6067087330856892210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=6067087330856892210' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/6067087330856892210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/6067087330856892210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/09/to-be-mother-and-filipina.html' title='To be a mother and a Filipina...'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-1469085876101430883</id><published>2006-09-02T14:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-02T14:57:48.673+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotable Quotes'/><title type='text'>Says Who?</title><content type='html'>How do I change?&lt;br /&gt;If I feel depressed I will sing.&lt;br /&gt;If I feel sad I will laugh.&lt;br /&gt;If I feel ill I will double my labour.&lt;br /&gt;If I feel fear I will plunge ahead.&lt;br /&gt;If I feel inferior I will wear new garments.&lt;br /&gt;If I feel uncertain I will raise my voice.&lt;br /&gt;If I feel poverty I will think of wealth to come.&lt;br /&gt;If I feel incompetent I will think of past success.&lt;br /&gt;If I feel insignificant I will remember my goals.&lt;br /&gt;Today I will be the master of my emotions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;- Og Mandino&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-1469085876101430883?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/1469085876101430883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=1469085876101430883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/1469085876101430883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/1469085876101430883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/09/says-who.html' title='Says Who?'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-2942002651736263834</id><published>2006-09-01T13:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T13:31:47.480+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><title type='text'>Top ten tips for creating angry employees</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;i&gt;This article from Mr. Angry had me at hello... :) It offers a very succint "how-to" for all those managers aiming to have their employees reach for their throats everytime they walk by. After reading this, ask yourself: "Do I know anyone who lives by these rules?. Well, according to Mr. Angry...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m somewhat of an expert on anger. I think I’ve had good teachers, which is to say, I’ve worked for some very bad managers who were absolute masters in the art of infuriating their employees. I’ve decided to distill all the worst anger-instilling behaviour I’ve witnessed over the years into a top ten list - the things that absolutely guarantee an angry workforce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not intended as a how-to guide for wannabe satanic managers. I did briefly consider that this might be akin to distributing a bomb-making recipe (very dangerous information in the wrong hands) but I actually believe most bad managers aren’t deliberately bad. They are far more likely to be ignorant of how destructive their actions are. As Hanlon’s Razor states: “Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So please, anyone in doubt, this is top 10 list of things NOT to do. So here are my top 10 tips for guaranteeing an angry workforce:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;1. Don’t communicate&lt;/b&gt; - That’s right, don’t tell ‘em anything. Why do they need to know? They’re not the all-powerful manager - you are. Here’s a tip: if you aren’t communicating, your staff are filling in the gaps themselves. And they rarely put the most positive spin on things. Case in point: in one job the IT manager went on a trip to the branch office in India without telling anyone what he was doing. As a joke, I said he was going to outsource the whole department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone believed me. I assured everyone it was a joke and I had no reason to think we were being outsourced and everyone calmed down. Then he came back and still didn’t tell anyone the purpose of the trip or what he did while he was there. Then I started to think he really was outsourcing us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;2. Encourage a culture of blame&lt;/b&gt; - Things go wrong from time to time, that’s unavoidable. But if you spend more energy fixing the blame than you do fixing the problem people will know not to make mistakes again. Actually if you make people think your first reaction to discovering a problem is to look for someone to blame, they’ll stop coming to you with problems. And then you’ll never find out about problems until things are totally and irretrievably screwed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;3. Don’t recognise achievements&lt;/b&gt; - if you congratulate people for doing a good job they’ll expect pay raises and that will ruin your budget. Actually, recognising achievements can create more positive feelings in a workplace than money but still, they’ll get all uppity if you congratulate them for a job well done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;4. Impose arbitrary rules&lt;/b&gt; - There’s no end to how far you can take this one. The rule can be no talking to co-workers, limits on software, hardware and/or peripherals available or even no drinking coffee at the desk. The important thing is not to waver from arbitrary rules no matter how logical the counter-argument made by employees. Change one rule and they’ll think they can change any rule they can build a compelling case for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;5. Play favourites&lt;/b&gt; - Some people are just more likeable than others. Everyone tells you to treat staff equally but how will your favourites know you like them more unless you give them preferential treatment? And besides, what’s the worst that could happen? The rest of the staff get resentful? You don’t like them anyway, maybe they’ll stay the hell away from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;6. Be inconsistent&lt;/b&gt; - Even arbitrary rules can be made worse by enforcing them inconsistently. If staff don’t know how you’re going to react to a given situation, they’ll never relax. And relaxed staff are unproductive staff. Probably. Best not to take the risk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;7. Be secretive&lt;/b&gt; - This is not exactly the same as not communicating. Being secretive is making it obvious that something is happening but not telling staff exactly what. It’s even better if you tell them there’s a big secret that you can’t tell them the details. Combine this with playing favourites for extra effect - make it obvious you’ve told your personal pet but forbid them from telling anyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;8. Be unresponsive&lt;/b&gt; - Don’t respond to email. Stare in the general direction of your staff with a peeved expression but don’t say anything. Respond to any questions or (god forbid) small talk from staff with a grunt. Agree to meeting requests then don’t show up. This will let staff know exactly where they stand and exactly how powerful you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;9. Refuse to listen&lt;/b&gt; - When staff come to you with important issues, brush them off. If you listen once they’ll expect you to listen all the time. How they think their concerns can have any effect on managing the department is anybody’s guess. They’re probably just complaining that they think your favourite never does any work. And you wouldn’t play favourites with anyone who’d exploit that favoured position, would you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;10. Refuse to change&lt;/b&gt; - Sometimes staff will go to the trouble of presenting a case for changing your way of doing things. Sometimes that case will seem compelling. Sometimes you will be tempted to think about changing because it seems like the best thing to do. Banish that thought from your head! Are these schmucks managers? How could a non-manager possibly be smarter than a manager? Make sure to mark them down in their next annual review.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are not the only ways to make staff angry but they are methods I’ve seen successfully employed many times over the years. Sometimes very successfully. So successfully that sometimes I formed the obviously mistaken impression that the manager concerned was a deranged psychopath. It’s a consistent disappointment to me that all the best staff quit when faced with managers like this. Where do they get off making logical choices to protect their own well-being? And how do quality staff always manage to find another workplace where they aren’t subjected to such negative behaviour?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t people like a challenge any more?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://http://angryaussie.wordpress.com/2006/08/31/top-ten-tips-for-creating-angry-employees/"&gt;- Mr Angry of Angry 365 Days A Year&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-2942002651736263834?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/2942002651736263834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=2942002651736263834' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/2942002651736263834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/2942002651736263834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/09/top-ten-tips-for-creating-angry.html' title='Top ten tips for creating angry employees'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-5871448910617017830</id><published>2006-08-31T17:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T17:49:59.541+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quotable quotes'/><title type='text'>Says who?</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Children might or might not be a blessing, but to create them and then fail them was surely damnation.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;- Lois McMaster Bujold&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-5871448910617017830?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/5871448910617017830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=5871448910617017830' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5871448910617017830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5871448910617017830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/08/says-who_31.html' title='Says who?'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-5662993686638065871</id><published>2006-08-31T10:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T10:48:41.672+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='society'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='onli en da pilipins'/><title type='text'>Boy Negro's Plight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/4771/4072/1600/boy%20negro.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/4771/4072/320/boy%20negro.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Meet Boy Negro(the boy in the white shirt) and his cousins... This photo was taken during our fiesta, a truly splendid affair complete with lechon, an extravagance of food and music blaring from the huge speaker in the plaza threatening to push your earwax all the way to pluto, or is it neptune now? Anyway, Boy Negro is the 12-year old garbage collector in our street, his two cousins (forgot their names), one is seven and the other is nine, are also collecting garbage from other houses for a paltry amount, 5-pesos. Not even enough for a jeepney fare... But enough for these three little children who works for their parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You heard me right, these children have parents. Able-bodied parents, capable of finding jobs that will give them more than the 5-peso coin their children earns. But what do they do? Instead of sending these children to school to get a proper education and have a chance to better their lives, they send them out to the streets to fend for themselves and to find money to feed their grumbling stomachs. Its pathetic, I know.  Other people may find it hard to believe, unless they come face to face with the absurd reality of the life these children are living. Poverty is not a timid creature, it rears its ugly head everytime it can. It does not choose age, nor race. It is a dispicable dragon that we must all be aware of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy Negro is just one of those countless victims of poverty and neglect. These children deserves a better life, an education, but most of all they need caring parents. Parents who would provide for their needs and not the other way around. It makes me so mad just to think about those parents neglecting their children when they  still have the ability to work if they only try. It would have been better for these children had they not been born, at least they would not have known the meaning of hunger. Hunger not only for food but for love as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may not be able to alleviate all these children's plight but at least, one little boy have the assurance of food everytime he comes to our house to collect garbage and his 5 peso coin. It may not be enough, but hey, I'm no super hero and I don't have buckets of gold stashed away. I am just another parent trying to keep my daughter from experiencing the same plight of these children.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-5662993686638065871?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/5662993686638065871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=5662993686638065871' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5662993686638065871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5662993686638065871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/08/boy-negros-plight.html' title='Boy Negro&apos;s Plight'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-5999971152758985519</id><published>2006-08-30T15:51:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T16:26:18.089+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quotable quotes'/><title type='text'>Says who?</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Because I am a woman, I must make unusual efforts to succeed. If I fail, no one will say, "She doesn't have what it takes." They will say, "Women don't have what it takes.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;- Clare Boothe Luce&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-5999971152758985519?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/5999971152758985519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=5999971152758985519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5999971152758985519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/5999971152758985519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/08/says-who.html' title='Says who?'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-378603246429564914</id><published>2006-08-30T09:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T10:04:46.732+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='onli en da pilipins'/><title type='text'>A Letter from Bebang</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I came across this article from Jeanne Tan Te of Sun Star Iloilo and  just have to share it.  It may seem hilarious at first, even I can't wipe the grin from my face while reading it, but after a while reality began to sink in and the hilarity of the letter vanished to oblivion. It no longer seemed hilarious, I can no longer laugh because laughing at the sheer silliness of the letter would be the same as looking down on a practice that is truly Filipino. Try as we might, we can't change the fact that it is a trait intrinsic to the Filipino people. Read on...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her name is Bebang, a registered nurse in L.A. who brought her mother there for some much-needed medical treatment. Unfortunately, her Nanay did not survive. In order to save from further expenses, however, Bebang decided to stay in LA and just send her deceased mother's remains back to the Philippines. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back home, and as soon as the coffin arrived, family members noticed that dead Nanay's face was fixed tightly on the glass like it was picture-framed. So they opened the coffin in order to re-position the corpse. To their surprise, a letter was stapled on Nanay's chest. The following was its content:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Mahal kong tatay at mga kapatid:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pasensya na kayo at hindi ko nasamahan ang nanay sa pag-uwi riyan sa Pilipinas dahil napakamahal ng pamasahe. "Ang gastos ko pa lang sa kanya ay mahigit $10,000 na. Ayoko nang isipin pa ang eksaktong halaga. Anyway, ipinadala ko kasama ni nanay ang mga sumusunod...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nasa likod ni nanay ang dalawampu't apat na karnenorte at isang dosenang spam. Ang adidas na suot ni nanay ay para kay tatay. Ang limang pares ng de-goma ay nasa loob ng dalawang asul na Jansport na backpack na inuunan ni nanay. Tig-iisa kayo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang iba't-ibang klase ng tsokolate at candy ay nasa puwetan ni nanay. Para sa mga bata ito. Bahala na kayong magparte-parte. Sana'y hindi natunaw. Ang pokemon stuffed toy na yapos-yapos ni nanay ay para sa bunso ni ate. Gift Ko sa first birthday ng bata. Ang itim na Esprit bag ay para kay Nene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ate, nasa loob ng bag ang pictures ni inay, japanese version ng pokemon trading cards at stickers. "Suot ni nanay ang tatlong Ralph Lauren, apat na Gap at dalawang Old Navy t-shirts. Ang isa ay para kay Kuya at tig-iisa ang mga pamangkin ko. Maisusuot ninyo ang mga iyan sa fiesta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suot din ni inay ang anim na panty hose at tatlong warmer para sa mga dalaga kong pamangkin. Isuot nyo sa party.May isang dosenang NBA caps sa may paanan ni nanay. Para sa inyo, itay, kuya, dikong, Tiyo Romy. Bigyan nyo na rin ng tig-isa 'yung mga pamangkin ko at 'yong isa ay kay Pareng Tulume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang tigdadalawang pares ng Nike wristband at knee caps na suot-suot din ni nanay ay para sa mga anak mo, diko, na nagbabasketball. Tigdadalawang ream ng Marlboro lights at Winston red ang nasa pagitan ng mga hita ni nanay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apat na jar ng Skippy Peanut Butter, dalawang dishwashing liquid, isang Kiwi glass cleaner at tig-aanim na Colgate at Aqua Fresh ang nakasiksik sa kilikili ni nanay. Hati-hati na kayo, huwag mag-aagawan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isang dosenang Wonder bra (Victoria's Secret ata ang tatak) gustong-gusto ni Tiya Iskang society natin, suot-suot din ni nanay. Alam kong inaasam-asam nyo 'yan, tiya. Anim na lipstick lang ang kasya sa bra. Ang Rolex na bilin-bilin mo tatay, suot-suot ni nanay. Nakatakip sa Nike na wristband. Kunin mo agad, Itay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May isinisik akong zip-loc sa bunganga ni Inay na naglalaman ng $759 dollars. Hindi na ako nakatakbo sa ATM. Puede na siguro sa libing iyon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iyong tong na makokolekta, i-time deposit niyo Kuya para pag namatay si Tatay may pambili na ng ataul. Ang hikaw, singsing at kuwintas (na may nakakabit pang anim na nail cutters) nagustong-gusto mo, ditse, ay suot suot din ni nanay. Kunin mo na rin agad, ditse. Ibigay mo ang isang nailcutter kay Jay bakla sa kanto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tanggalin niyo ang bulak sa ilong ng inay, may isiniksik ako 3 diyamante sa bawat butas. Ibangon niyo lang si inay at tiyak na malalaglag na ang mga iyon. Konting alog lang siguro ng ulo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marami pa sana akong ipaglalalagay kaya lang, baka mag-excess at si nanay pa ang maiwan. Basta parte-parte kayo, tatay, kuya, ate, dikong, ditse. Para sa inyo lahat ito. Bahala na kayo kay nanay. Pamimisahan ko na lang siya rito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Balitaan ninyo na lang ako pagkatapos ng libing. Alam ni ate ang email ko. Paki-double check ang lista kung walang nawala sa mga ipinadala ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nagmamahal,&lt;br /&gt;Bebang&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sun.Star Iloilo&lt;br /&gt;Monday, August 28, 2006&lt;br /&gt;Te: A letter from Bebang&lt;br /&gt;By Jeanne Tan Te&lt;br /&gt;Flavors&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-378603246429564914?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/378603246429564914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=378603246429564914' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/378603246429564914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/378603246429564914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/08/letter-from-bebang.html' title='A Letter from Bebang'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-115684430500281385</id><published>2006-08-29T15:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T17:38:25.086+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><title type='text'>The Disparity of Men and Women</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Whatever women do they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult. (Charlotte Whitton)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This quote sums up the differences of men and women. Since time immemorial women have been regarded as the lesser sex, with no backbone, relying only on the strength and intelligence of men, overly dependent creatures made only for the sole purpose of serving men. But that is no longer true. Throughout the years, more and more women are realizing their potentials.  Women are finally going out of their shells and showing the world that they are no longer the servants they were once deemed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the stigma is still there. Although there are now a lot of women entering the work force, doing men's jobs and doing it well, they are still looked upon with scorn. No woman will ever be as intelligent or hard-working as a man in the same respect. That is why a woman works twice as hard in order to at least gain a sense of respect from others. In order to gain status a woman has to be twice as intelligent, twice as hard-working, twice as self-sacrifing and in the meantime must also be able to handle family life, be as good-looking as they can, bear beautiful children, take care of those children, and be a good wife, among others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men are generally creatures of ego and it is not good for them to have women puncture those egos. They need to be recognized all the time, they need the world to look up to their achievements. If a man does something that may seem remarkable at the moment, the mistakes that he has made before or the fact that he is not a good father to his children, nor a good husband to his wife are forgotten in an instant. The world focuses on how amazingly smart or strong he is.  But when a woman does something truly remarkable, everything about her is scrutinized, from the shampoo that she's using, the polish on her nails, dress she's wearing, the family that she came from, and the family that she has, even her children are scrutinized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The unfairness is utterly unbelievable! But such as it is, we, women have to accept the consequence of our actions and endeavor to keep our mouths shut. Men, as they are, could not accept the notion of a better sex and it will take them eons to finally realize that no one is the better sex.  Although men and women are not created equal in every respect, we are still equal in such a way that we complement each other's strengths and weaknesses.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-115684430500281385?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/115684430500281385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=115684430500281385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/115684430500281385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/115684430500281385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/08/disparity-of-men-and-women.html' title='The Disparity of Men and Women'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33362595.post-115657271563572035</id><published>2006-08-26T13:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T14:13:05.000+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='onli en da pilipins'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pinay pride'/><title type='text'>A Call to Filipinas Everywhere...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;What do you get when you search for "Filipina" in Google? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;TRASH&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Filipina Trash Sites... That's what you'll get. Don't get me wrong, I am proud to be a Filipina, it is who I am and what I'll always be whether I'm in the Philippines or in outer space. But what mainly pisses me off is the fact that people from other countries are stereotyping all Filipinas into sex objects or domestic helpers, just because there are more and more Filipinas hawking their wares on the World Wide Web.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is degrading to all Filipinas to be treated the way we are being treated today, we have more to offer the world than just our bodies. I know that having to spend each day not knowing if you'll eat tomorrow is a pitiful state to be in, pitiful enough to push our women to sell themselves to foreigners who only treat them as objects. Objects without feelings, living only for the measly dollars they dole out everytime that particular object performs...When will we learn? When will we try to elevate our status from mere objects to human beings? I am well aware of the state of our people, the poor Filipino people... I know that selling sex and serving as domestic helpers are just means to an end. Their families need to eat. But does it have to be this way? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the answer is a sad YES. No matter how we try to look at the matter it will always be the same, unless our government will try to do everything they can in order to alleviate this pitiful mess we are in. Wishful thinking... But maybe, just maybe if we, Filipinas, will do everything we can in order to make our mark in the world it will make people recognize us as human beings, intelligent, talented women able to show the world that we are more than our bodies, that we are more than just helpers. Being only one person I could not accomplish this, I am but one ripple in the ocean not enough to create a wave. But if Filipinas everywhere will make the effort, it will eventually create more ripples, ripples converging into one giant wave, able to douse the raging fire of the Filipina Stereotype. It is high time for Filipinas to go out of our shells and shout to the world that you are &lt;b&gt;Proud to be Filipinas.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33362595-115657271563572035?l=jpalmes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/feeds/115657271563572035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33362595&amp;postID=115657271563572035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/115657271563572035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33362595/posts/default/115657271563572035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jpalmes.blogspot.com/2006/08/call-to-filipinas-everywhere.html' title='A Call to Filipinas Everywhere...'/><author><name>Time</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13351168796656720633</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://img377.imageshack.us/img377/2248/jesuiskj6.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
