I Am Buraot

I know I know.

I haven’t been busy with this blog for a while. It’s hard to be poetic when you are not in a melancholic mood. I don’t know if it’s true but it certainly seems so. That it takes tragedy and heartbreak to be poetic. Sure you can take romance and be poetic, but nothing beats tragedy and heartbreak.

And those two words are currently out of the picture for now.

I am now currently taking my blogging hobby to the next level by actually creating and maintaning websites. For a fee. I decided that since I am into it, then I might as well get paid to do it. Continue Reading…

At the start of the new government under President Noynoy Aquino, I do understand that former congressman and secretary Butch Abad is going to have a juicy post. In fact I expected it. After all, he was  Noynoy’s campaign manager at the last election.

On a personal note, I would love to see him back in government. I saw him as an alternative politician capable of running an agency that requires skills without having to abandon a belief that government work need not necessarily equate graft.

I commended him when, along with nine other cabinet secretaries during the time of President Arroyo, they decidedly quit from their posts. I said, “Hmnnn.. even with a bit of political propaganda, some people still knew what the word delicadeza means.”

Then Noynoy became president. By virtue of political gratitude that is not unknown to Philippine politics, it would be safe to assume that Abad was personally asked by the President to take his pick. I was expecting Butch Abad to be his Executive Secretary since to me it would be the most influential of all.  He was appointed as Budget Secretary.

It made me wonder if it’s about the pork. Continue Reading…

Being homeless at all is no feat. That’s why I was surprised why anyone would choose to go homeless when he has a home he could go to.

The streets are not safe and oftentimes mean. You could get mugged anytime, killed if you’re unlucky.

But Sarge, like some homeless veterans, has a more serious problem than  just being homeless. He is suffering from a post-war syndrome.

I don’t know exactly the technicalities and other issues about it, but a lot of them had that seemingly unreal perception on things. Continue Reading…

Venice Beach, Los Angeles. Almost always it is a very calm, quiet and peaceful place. Contrary to the eclectic impressions a tourist might have during the day, the nights have a small-town feel to it.

On any given day you will find lots of characters along the speedway by the beach. Artists both new and old hand displaying their latest work and willing to do your portrait for a fee.

Street performers showing their talents for a chunk of change, well-tanned bodybuilders showing off their enormous muscles, surfer kids waiting for a swell, skater boys challenging each other for new moves, and some simply enjoying the shows and whatever the place has free to offer.

In Venice, everyday is a day on the beach. Continue Reading…

Not very often, we do sponsor some blog contests. And this is one of them. Kaye and Pehpot of Pehpot.com is conducting a blog anniversary contest and some serious money is up for grabs. They are giving away $500 in cash and so much more.

Joining isn’t that hard really. All you need to do is blog about it or review some of its major sponsors like I Am Buraot (that’s me),  Anak Ni Kulapo (that’s me too) , Seiko’s Diary and Mom Conversations and you’re in.

For more information, just visit the site by clicking on the official contest baner. Good Luck!

Do you see the whole picture, or read between the lines? Can you discern the pattern of words and thoughts formation that leads you to a certain pre-destined conclusion?

Are they just written syllables to fill your wandering mind? Or a well orchestrated move to stab your back and rob you blind?

Storytellers are full of talk, they’re cheap.

You could find them everywhere, but you can’t see them anywhere. Subtly, and ever so charmingly, they can suggest thoughts into our minds, mumble words into our mouths. They can move us and leave us on our tracks. They can, publicly, make us live or die. Continue Reading…

Photo Credits here.

There was a time when men were men, bound not by rules but mutual respect. A respect that one need not earn but modestly given by virtue of simply being men. Contracts are not made by voluminous set of recycled trees but by a few pristine words.

In the wars of the old, rivals shake hands before and after battles. Even opposing sides have mutual respect. They are enemies in the battlefield, and being soldiers, comrades outside of it. These days, the gentlemanly conduct of directing a battle, were all gone. Continue Reading…