Blueprint Enterprise

07/12/2025

04/07/2025

Title: The Monkey Who Chose Lies Over Love

In a vibrant part of the forest where baobab trees grew thick and the river sang all year round, there lived a young monkey named Zamba.

Zamba was fast.

He was clever, too clever for his own good.

And with that cleverness came a mouth full of tricks.

Zamba could talk his way out of anything stealing bananas, dodging chores, even blaming others for his own mess.

The other animals laughed at his jokes, but they never fully trusted him.

Except one.

Her name was Nia.

She was a soft-hearted monkey with eyes that saw deeper than most. She believed in goodness, in kindness, and in Zamba even when others warned her.

“I see who he can be,” she’d say. “Not just who he pretends to be.”

And that was the beginning of everything.

⸻

Zamba and Nia became inseparable.

They swung through trees together, shared mangos under moonlight, whispered dreams in the silence between wind and leaves.

Nia made Zamba feel safe.

Seen.

Real.

But even love wasn’t enough to silence his old habits.

Zamba still lied about small things, then bigger ones. Not because he needed to, but because it was easier.

Nia caught him once.

“You told me you were helping the tortoise,” she said, eyes soft but steady. “But he came to me. He was alone all day.”

Zamba grinned nervously.

“I must have mixed the days up,” he said. “You know me. Always doing too much.”

She nodded, but her smile didn’t return.

⸻

More lies followed.

Where he was.

Who he was with.

What he was doing.

Each time, Nia gave him a chance to come clean.

Each time, Zamba chose the shortcut.

Until the day the elders came.

⸻

The forest elders had gathered to discuss a serious matter. A stash of fruit meant for the dry season had gone missing. Hidden. Stolen.

Whispers pointed toward the hyenas.

Zamba knew who had done it.

He had seen the baboons take it. Watched them laugh. Even took a few pawfuls for himself.

But when asked before the council, Zamba stood and said:

“It was the hyenas. I saw them that night.”

The forest roared.

And the hyenas were banished.

Nia sat still.

Watching.

⸻

Later that night, she found Zamba near the river.

He smiled like always.

But she didn’t smile back.

“You lied again,” she said. “You hurt those who didn’t deserve it.”

Zamba shrugged. “No one cares. The elders believed me. What’s the harm?”

Nia looked at him.

And for the first time, he felt small.

“There’s always harm,” she said. “Every lie you told was a piece of something breaking. And now it’s me.”

He reached for her hand.

“Nia—”

“I believed in you,” she said. “But you keep choosing lies… over love.”

Then she walked away.

And Zamba didn’t chase her.

Because for the first time, he realized he couldn’t lie his way out of what he had lost.

⸻

Days passed.

Then weeks.

The other animals kept their distance. Even the ones who used to laugh at his jokes no longer found them funny.

Zamba sat alone, wondering how he had let truth slip through his fingers like water.

⸻

One morning, the elders gathered again.

News had come from the southern trees—the baboons confessed. They’d bragged about stealing the fruit. About how they tricked the forest.

The elders were angry.

And disappointed.

They summoned Zamba once more.

But this time, he didn’t lie.

“I was scared,” he said. “Of losing what I had. Of losing her. So I said what I thought would protect me.”

“And did it?” the oldest owl asked.

Zamba shook his head.

“It lost me everything.”

⸻

The elders didn’t punish him.

They didn’t need to.

He was already carrying his consequence.

But they gave him a task.

To rebuild the food stores. To work alongside the hyenas. To earn back trust—not with words, but with truth.

⸻

Zamba did it.

He worked under the sun. Carried fruits on his back. Slept on branches so he could start again each morning.

The hyenas didn’t speak to him at first.

But slowly, they began to nod.

Then speak.

Then laugh.

Real laughter.

Not the kind that hides hurt.

⸻

One evening, as the stars lit the sky and the river hummed its song, someone appeared beside him.

Nia.

Quiet. Calm.

He didn’t speak.

She sat beside him.

For a long time, they didn’t say anything.

Then she whispered:

“I’ve been watching.”

He turned, surprised.

She smiled gently.

“I still believe in who you can be. But this time, you have to believe it, too.”

⸻

Zamba didn’t try to impress her with clever words.

He didn’t make promises.

He just sat there, honest and quiet.

And for the first time, that was enough.

⸻

Moral Lessons:
1. Love is built on truth. If you trade it for convenience, it fades.
2. To heal what you’ve broken, you must rebuild with your hands, not just your mouth.

17/06/2025

Nakapila ako sa , may dalagang nasa unahan ko na umiiyak. Nawawala raw ang 1,000 pesos na pambayad niya sa in-order niyang drinks at pastry.

Tinanong ko siya kung saan niya nahulog, pero hindi raw niya alam. Kinabahan daw siya kasi first time niyang umorder ng venti caramel macchiato at croissant — tapos ganun pa ang nangyari.

Tinanong ko si barista kung magkano lahat ng order niya.

Sabi ni barista, 478 pesos.

Sabi ko, “Ako na lang magbabayad.”

Napaiyak sa tuwa yung dalaga at niyakap pa ako. Binigyan ko pa siya ng 100 pesos pang pamasahe pauwi.

Palagi tayong tumulong sa kapwa. Ang kabutihan, babalik din sa iyo.

Kagaya nito — bago ako pumasok sa Starbucks, may nakita akong 1,000 pesos sa sahig malapit sa pinto.

Feeling caffeinated and blessed. ☕💸

23/05/2025

luh! 🫣

22/05/2025

21/05/2025

If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome, including toilet flush burials for dead
goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD!

Overview: I had to take my son’s lizard to the vet
Here’s what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was “something wrong” with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room.
“He’s just lying there looking sick,” he told me. “I’m serious, Dad . Can you help?”
I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
“Honey,” I called, “come look at the lizard!”
“Oh, my gosh!” my wife exclaimed. “She’s having babies.”
“What?” my son demanded. “But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!”
I was equally outraged.
“Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn’t want them to reproduce,” I said accusingly to my wife
Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?”she inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically!)
“No, but you were supposed to get two boys!” I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth).
“Yeah, Bert and Ernie!” my son agreed.
“Well, it’s just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know,” she informed me (Again with the sarcasm!).
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
“Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience,” I announced. “We’re about to witness the miracle of birth..”
“Oh, gross!” they shrieked
“Well, isn’t THAT just great? What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?” my wife wanted to know.
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
“We don’t appear to be making much progress,” I noted.
“It’s breech,” my wife whispered, horrified.
“Do something, Dad!” my son urged.
“Okay, okay.” Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
“Should I call 911?” my eldest daughter wanted to know.
“Maybe they could talk us through the trauma.”
“Let’s get Ernie to the vet,” I said grimly.. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.
“Breathe, Ernie, breathe,” he urged.
“I don’t think lizards do Lamaze,” his mother noted to him.
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
“What do you think, Doc, a C-section?” I suggested scientifically.
“Oh, very interesting,” he murmured. “Mr. and Mrs.. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?”
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
“Is Ernie going to be okay?” my wife asked.
“Oh, perfectly,” the vet assured us. ‘This lizard is not in labor.. In fact, that isn’t EVER going to happen. . .Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um . . um . . . ma******te. Just the way he did, lying on his back.” He blushed, glancing at my wife.
We were silent, absorbing this.
“So, Ernie’s just . just . . . excited,” my wife offered.
“Exactly,” the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. ‘”t’s just .that . .I’m picturing you pulling on its . … . its. . . teeny little . . ”
She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
“That’s enough,” I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car.. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
“I know Ernie’s really thankful for what you did, Dad.” he told me.
“Oh, you have NO idea,” my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
Two lizards: $140.
One cage: $50.
Trip to the vet: $30.
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard’s winkie: Priceless!
Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology class.
Lizards lay eggs!

19/05/2025

CTTO

My daughter is six years old and is in grade one. We live about a kilometer away from school so everyday okada man whom we are familiar with takes her to school and returns her home in the afternoon because both my husband and I are working and we leave home early, just after she goes to school.
One day when I was at work I received a call from her class teacher requesting me to avail myself there as soon as was possible.

“What happened to Angel?” I questioned anxiously.

“Nothing to panic about, just make sure you come before we break up for the day.”
Of course I panicked. This had to do with my daughter and I was worried sick about her. I immediately excused myself from work and hurriedly took the first transport available. I burst into the classroom panting and sweating.

“Mama Angel,” The teacher started. “We will talk about this privately.” She led the way to an empty office and I followed meekly.
“Do you see your child off when she comes to school?” Was her first question.
I didn’t know where this was leading to, so I just replied with a short “Yes.”

“What time does she leave home?”
“She gets picked up a bit early because I have to rush to work. So around 7:00 to 7:15 a.m.
“How does she behave then?”
“She behaves normally.”

“I want you to brace yourself with what I’m about to tell you.

Are you ready?”

Did I really have a choice? I just nodded.

“Angel arrives here around 8:30 every day,” she started calmly. “For some time, she has been coming to school in tears every morning. First I thought it was because she didn’t want to come to school. Several times I asked her what the matter was but she didn’t give me a reply. Today when she arrived she was crying as usual so I took her aside, gave her some sweets and promised her some more tomorrow.

Then I asked her in a very friendly tone why she cries every day and the answer shocked me.”
She took a breath while looking at me and the anxiety almost killed me.

“Mama Angel,” she continued with caution. “The okada man has been ra**ng your daughter every morning for some time now.”

“What!” I almost fainted. I surely would have fallen down if I had been standing. For God’s sake, Angel was only six! How heartless can some men be?
“Every day after picking her and before coming here, he would take Angel to his house, r**e her and threaten to kill her if she ever tried to tell anyone. Then he’d bring her to school.”

I felt dizzy. Why? Why my little Angel? I was sweating. My whole body was shaking.
“Should I call your husband?”
“No!” I shouted. He might do anything.

Patience was something alien to him. I had to find a way of breaking the news to him. After a while, I decided to call his sister. Together we could try to talk to him.

The news shattered my husband. He cried uncontrollably. Then he got so furious that he swore he would strangle him, but we told him not to take matters into his own hands and just leave the law to do its work. We reported the matter to the police. We gave them the details of the boda boda man. They caught and took him in. We took Angel to the hospital after getting a p3 form from the police.

He was found guilty of ra**ng our little girl a multiple number of times and was sentenced to a twenty year jail term.

Absolutely no one should be trusted with our girls. Take time to drop your kids to school, be friendly with them, teach them to be polite but never to trust strangers, ask them about their day and always make them trust you enough to open up in case of any unusual incident.

*Copied*

08/05/2025

CTTO
"SINAKRIPISYO KO ANG PANGARAP KO PARA SA KINABUKASAN NG KAPATID KO"

PART 1.

Ako si Donny. 15 years na ang lumipas mula noong araw na binago ang lahat.

6 years old pa lang si Bonny noon. Ako, 16. Puno ng pangarap. Gusto kong maging engineer noon. Gusto kong gumawa ng bahay para kila Mama at Papa. Para kay Bon. Pero ang buhay, marunong magbiro. Minsan, marahas pa.

Isang gabi, umuulan. Biglang may kumatok sa pintuan. Dalawang pulis. Basa ang sombrero, malamig ang boses.

“Pasensya na, anak. Naaksidente ang sasakyan ng mga magulang mo…”

Hindi ko na narinig ang kasunod. Parang naputol ang mundo. Napayuko ako, yakap-yakap si Bon. Umiyak siya. Tumili. Tinawag si Mama. Tinawag si Papa. Pero walang sumagot. Kasi wala na sila.

Kinabukasan, hindi na ako estudyante. Ako na ang naging magulang.

Hindi ko alam kung paano maging tatay. Wala rin akong ideya paano maging nanay. Pero alam kong hindi ko kayang pabayaan si Bon. Sabi nga ni Papa noon, “Ang tunay na lalaki, hindi iniiwan ang pamilya.” Kaya kahit wala na sila, sinikap kong itaguyod ang iniwan nilang pangarap para sa amin.

Pumila ako sa mga kalye para maghanap ng trabaho. Pinagpalit ko ang libro sa pala. Nagta-trabaho ako sa construction tuwing umaga. Sa gabi, nagde-deliver ng tubig. Tuwing may extra, naglilinis ako ng kotse sa tabi ng simbahan. Minsan, sa sobrang pagod, nakakatulog na lang ako sa bangketa, may hawak pang supot ng pandesal para sa almusal namin ni Bon.

Pero hindi ko kailanman pinakita kay Bon kung gaano kahirap. Gusto ko siyang lumaking masaya. Gusto kong kahit papano, maramdaman pa rin niya na bata pa rin siya.

Naalala ko nung Grade 6 siya, kailangan nila ng project—model ng solar system. Wala kaming pambili ng styrofoam. Kaya kumuha ako ng lumang bola, at mga tansan. Gamit ang panali ng walis, nilagyan ko ng kulay at tinahi ko ng sinulid. Kinabukasan, proud na proud siyang naglakad papasok ng eskwela, hawak-hawak ang project namin.

Sabi niya, “Kuya, ikaw ang pinaka-astig na tatay at nanay sa mundo.”

Doon ako halos maiyak.

Ngayon, graduating na si Bon sa Nursing. Siya pa ang magna cm laude. Sa huling recognition day niya, ako ang nagsabit ng medalya. Naka-barong pa ako, hiniram ko lang. Habang naglalakad siya paakyat ng entablado, para akong naluluha na hindi maintindihan. Hindi dahil sa lungkot—kundi sa tagumpay.

Habang tinatawag ang pangalan niya, parang umuugong sa tenga ko ang boses ni Papa:

"Anak, pag ikaw ang bumitaw, sino ang aakay?"

Hindi ako bumitaw. At ngayon, si Bon na ang mag-aakay sa akin.

Hindi ako nakatapos ng pag-aaral. Pero may nagtapos dahil sa akin.

Hindi ako naging engineer. Pero naitayo ko ang pundasyon ng buhay ng kapatid ko.

Hindi ako naging doktor. Pero araw-araw kong ginamot ang sugat ng pagkulila at gutom.

Ako si Don. Isang ordinaryong tao. Pero para kay Bon, ako ang dahilan kung bakit siya narito ngayon.
At para sa akin, sapat na ‘yon.

PART 2.

Akala ko noong nagtapos si Bon sa kolehiyo, doon na matatapos ang lahat ng sakripisyo. Pero ang totoo, doon pa lang nagsimula ang bagong yugto ng buhay ko.

Minsang umuupo kami ni Bon sa terrace ng bahay nila, sabi niya,
"Kuya, tapos na ang tungkulin mo sa akin. Panahon na para tuparin mo naman ang pangarap mo."

Natawa lang ako. "Matanda na ako, Bon. Huli na siguro para diyan."

Pero pinilit niya ako. Sabi niya, kahit huli na, hindi ibig sabihin ay wala nang pagkakataon.

Kaya nag-enroll ako sa TESDA. Oo, si Don—ang dating construction worker, kargador, at tagalinis—bumalik sa pag-aaral. Medyo nakakahiya sa una. Katabi ko sa klase, mga batang halos kasing-edad na ng anak ng kaibigan ko. Pero pinangatawanan ko. Kasi ngayon, ginagawa ko na 'to hindi lang para sa iba—ginagawa ko na ‘to para sa sarili ko.

Nag-aral ako ng Electrical Installation and Maintenance. Mahirap sa simula—lalo na’t matagal na akong di humawak ng libro. Pero tuwing napapagod ako, naaalala ko ang batang si Bon, na minsan, umiyak sa gabi at humingi ng gatas. At ang sarili kong mga gabi ng gutom, para lang siya may makain.

Pagkatapos ng ilang buwan, nakatapos ako. May hawak akong certificate, may larawan akong nakangiti, may diploma ako na hindi lang papel kundi simbolo ng panibagong simula.

Ngayon, may sarili na akong maliit na repair shop. Ako na ang tinatawag ng mga tao kapag may problema sa kuryente. Hindi man ako engineer, pero ako ang gumagawa ng ayos sa bahay ng iba—at sa sarili kong buhay.

At higit sa lahat, nakilala ko rin ang isang babae—hindi ko inaasahan, pero binigyan ako ng pagkakataon ng tadhana na magmahal at mahalin. Nag-asawa ako sa edad na hindi na ako tinatanong kung “kailan ka mag-aasawa?” kundi “sigurado ka pa ba?” Pero oo, sigurado ako.

Masaya ako ngayon. May tahanan na rin ako. May negosyo. At may kapatid akong doktor na may sariling pamilya.

Sabi nila, ang bayani daw, 'yung handang magsakripisyo. Pero para sa akin, ang tunay na bayani ay 'yung kahit ilang beses na ipinagpaliban ang sarili, natutong bumalik at lumaban para sa pangarap—kahit pa huli na sa tingin ng iba.

Ako si Don. At sa wakas… natupad ko rin ang pangarap ko.