Life in the Fast Lane


My nephew, Mateo, is a day short of approaching what many people call the dreaded "Terrible Twos". And it's amazing how much he has grown — not just height-wise! — since he turned a year old 364 days ago. It's as if he reaches milestone after milestone, just in a week's time.

And really, I have loved every moment I got to spend with him these last 12 months. I've gotten to know more of his personality, I've seen glimpses of what he may be interested in someday, and we've carved out our own "Nanang and Mateo" ("Nanang" being his nickname for me) bonding sessions.

In any relationship, even one you have with a toddler, there will always be a two-way learning dynamic. And not only have I learned things about my nephew as his personality develops; I've also learned life lessons that could've only come from this energetic, now wavy-haired little firecracker.

These are just some of the many, many things I've come to learn from this little dude.

(Photos taken from different stages of him as a one-year-old; not necessarily in the right order.)

1) The Beauty of Family

Mateo is unique in the sense that he regularly does what we'd like to call "roll calls". Like a class President, whenever he visits or whenever we're out in the mall or at a restaurant, he starts rattling off everybody's names: "Mum... Dada... Nonna..." and so on and so forth as if he's doing an attendance check. And you have to reassure him that you're there by saying, "I'm here!" or tell him if someone isn't there (i.e. "She's at work, sorry!") This happens for our side (Mateo's Dad's) of the family, and even for his Mom's side of the family. He knows which family members belong to which side of the family, and he will always ensure that he says everyone's names; sometimes he'll repeat the process over and over again within a span of a few minutes. 

It's because he's happiest when he's surrounded by all of his family members. He enjoys putting on a "show" (getting people's attention, making everyone laugh or clap, or even cheer for him as he shoots a basketball), and he loves giving hugs and kisses. 

The fact that he feels complete and completely at ease when he knows he's in the company of his loved ones reminds me to treasure everyone in the family and not to take them for granted.

A number of triathlete friends I've talked to through the years have said that doing a duathlon is much, much harder than doing a triathlon. And even if I hadn't done one yet, I found myself agreeing with them.

A triathlon, as many people are familiar with by now, consists of a swim-bike-run in succession. However, a duathlon consists of a run-bike-run in succession. Many people who aren't swimmers but know how to bike and run would instinctively join a duathlon and would probably excel in it. However, many swimmers (like me) who are daunted by the idea of just running and cycling would be hesitant to try it out.

Unlike a triathlon where you slowly warm up your body and activate your muscles with a swim, a duathlon shocks your leg muscles with a run, before transitioning to a long bike ride, and sprinting back to the finish line with another run. Your legs really take a beating in duathlon, unlike in triathlon, because the swim uses more muscles distributed "evenly" (so to speak) before easing into cycling.

A teammate of mine, however, challenged me to register for one with her (this would be her third), and being the sucker that I am, I agreed.

So after doing triathlon events as a relay swimmer thrice over a period of six weeks, I had to cram my duathlon training in just five weeks. I said goodbye to lap pools and hello to my bike trainer.

And when I could, I took my (racer) bike out on the road.

(I have two bikes: my first road bike, which has an alloy frame, and is now perpetually attached to my bike trainer; the second one is what I use for outdoor rides and racing.)

Of course I also ran a few days a week, and on weekends, that's when I would usually do brick training (either a run-bike in succession, or a bike-run).

Practicing transitions with my bike shoes, then running shoes

And before I knew it, I found myself at the starting line of my first-ever duathlon, Bike King Duathlon, with my teammate, Elaine.

The first run was fairly easy. I think I kept a good pace and followed my target times.

Going into the bike, though, I was kind of winded. I could already feel the heat beating down on all of us. 

Photo by Run Cabanatuan

I had to find my pace in the first few kilometers of the bike. Thankfully, there were a lot of flats and downhills initially, with just a few climbs, so I managed to get into some kind of rhythm.

Photo by Bike King Philippines

I was going at almost 50kph on the flats and downhills, then would slow down to 13-15kph on the climbs. But I was hitting my ideal average pace, so I was happy. I also consumed one energy gel early on in the ride.

Photo by Run Cabanutuan

At the halfway mark, I refueled my water bottles (I really drink a LOT of water) in the hydration tent. Then realized that when one goes down, one must go up. And the return ride would mean a lot of climbing.

Photo by Run Cabanatuan

Around the 27th kilometer, that's when I hit a wall. Literally and figuratively.

My right leg would not follow what my brain was telling it to do, and a sharp pain shot up all the way to my thigh.

I had to break instantly on the side of the road, and my bike somehow crashed into my shins and I fumbled, trying to avoid falling with or on top of my bike.

It took a good ten minutes to shake off the pain, stretch my leg, and calm down (I was panicking because: a) I thought I wouldn't be able to finish the race; and b) I was worried that I would cramp again at some point in the race). There were three people who stopped by to check on me (thank you, whoever you were!) on their way back up, and I reassured them that I'd be fine, so off they went. Being an athlete myself, I didn't want to hold them back from placing in the podium or setting a personal record, LOL!

Eventually, I hopped back on my bike, pedaled as much as I could without re-cramping my leg, started reciting Psalm 23 in my head, and just kept pedaling until I finished that very hot, hard bike leg.

The second run was a blur, honestly. I could feel my sugar level depleting, the heat at 9am in Porac, Pampanga, was on a different level altogether, and I just wanted to see the finish line. I didn't know what my pace was anymore, I would walk when I felt tired, and I didn't care anymore when people would pass me by (unlike in the first run leg, when I'd will myself to run past people).

Photo by Bike King Philippines

Photo by Bike King Philippines

Finally, when I saw the finish line, I sprinted towards it as much as my wobbly legs would let me, and the race volunteers saw my exhaustion. 

Photo by Run Cabanatuan

They led me to the medics tent where my cramp was addressed, I was cooled down with ice packs, and made to rehydrate.

Needless to say, this finisher's medal was my hardest sought-after one. 

Thanks to Elaine for the motivation! I was proud of how hard she ran (considering she hates running) and biked. 

Looking back on this race days after it happened, I tried to figure out what caused the cramp, fatigue, and overheating (not that anyone can really predict what will happen on race day).

Here are some of my theories:

  1. I was tired. I had a shoot the night before the race and only slept a total of three hours.
  2. My breakfast wasn't enough. I had 1.5 blueberry muffins for breakfast at 5am, thinking that those would be enough. By the time the race started close to 7am, I had already digested the muffins. Plus, I wasn't able to eat a banana (which I normally do) before the race began.
  3. I should've taken an energy gel before running. I only had one energy gel for the entire race, which I consumed during the bike leg. Unfortunately, I dropped the other gel I had during the bike ride.
  4. I should've done more heat training. Heat is always my biggest enemy. I'm still trying to master to how to manage it, and I could've trained during hotter hours (I normally train when the sun isn't quite up yet). 
Will I do another duathlon? Yes. I want to redeem myself for sure, and see if I'm capable of doing a better job next time. Although it was fulfilling to be able to complete one and call myself a "duathlete", despite not being a strong cyclist nor runner, I want to cross the finish line of a duathlon feeling fulfilled.

But no, I don't see myself doing one again in the foreseeable future. HAHA! Maybe sometime next year, though.

Congratulations to Bike King for what seems to be a successful event, and congratulations to all the finishers and winners of this event! We did it!

As always, thanks to my family, friends, and teammates for the support, and thanks to the Lord for sustaining me from start to end.

(Most photos used for this entry were taken by Randie Jocson, our team's unofficial but trusted bike mech and race day assistant.)
Because I couldn't sleep (I still struggle with this, days later), I wrote this at 2am. Please bear with any incoherence you may see along the way. I just had to get these words out before I could forget anything.

On August 28, my family's world tilted on its axis when we learned that our dear Goyito passed away in his sleep early that morning. He was alone, his fingers still holding onto his videogame controller, when it happened. It was only hours later when he didn't come up for breakfast that it was discovered that he had been called Home to Heaven.

Not many people probably knew Goyito or knew of Goyito. Unless you happened to be invited to a lunch or dinner celebration of any our family members, or you'd seen him in CCF (our church), or met him while he did his routine morning walks in my uncle's neighborhood (Goyito lived with my Tito Alex, after their dad, my grandfather Gregorio Araneta II, passed away), you probably wouldn't have known or encountered him.

Goyito wearing his "DIY" Mario cap.

You see, Goyito didn't really have friends (both "offline" and online). Because he was different. The youngest sibling among my dad and his siblings, he was born a "menopausal baby" and had intellectual challenges from the very beginning. He even had a few physical ones in his earlier years of life. And as he grew up, the differences between him and everyone else became more apparent.

Especially if you grew up alongside him.

He and I had an almost twelve-year gap, making it seem like we were more like siblings than uncle and niece. In my earlier years, we were playmates and I didn't think that there was anything different about him. Until I started to grow up, go to school, join a swimming team, meet friends, and spend time with them.

Goyito and me, as a baby.

In the meantime. Goyito's "friends", really, were his family members. All his life. And his world continued to revolve around videogames, LEGO, and Ghostbusters — year after year after year. He didn't grasp "adult" concepts like the value of money, he didn't seem to mature in ways others would've, he wasn't concerned about things most people were concerned about, and he remained like a child in many ways.

Goyito and his childlike smile.

Despite all these, though, my siblings, cousins, and I continued to get to know and appreciate him for who he was and what made him unique and even superior to others. We realized how, in his simple way of seeing the world and living his life, he exuded contentment and peace. We also came to understand how deep his faith ran and how secure he was in his personhood because of his relationship with God.

The Araneta boys and our Caparas cousins several Christmases ago.

But that's us; this appreciation we had of him and the close relationship we developed with him were born out of years of spending time with him and getting to know him. 

Now let me give you a glimpse of how it would be like if you got to know him for the first time.

If you were to meet him, from afar, you might not notice anything out of the ordinary in his appearance. Unless, on that day, he happened to wear his Ghostbusters jacket (which is actually a khaki one with cut-outs of the Ghostbusters logos from notebooks, taped onto the sleeves and pockets), or a Super Mario get-up (with denim over-alls and a red cap).

Goyito and his DIY Ghostbusters jacket, with his favorite gift in one of his birthday celebrations.

And then you'd begin to notice, if you came closer, some of the cues that would make him different: how he didn't always make eye contact; how sometimes, he ate his words or spoke softly; how he wouldn't want to talk about a vast range of topics, unless they were things that interested him; how he didn't have the typical social skills needed to form a friendship; how he would walk by swinging his hips, his feet turned out, head looking down; how, while eating, he'd sometimes stare off into space, immersed in his own world.

But if you decided to push forward and really get to know him by playing a videogame he liked, or taking him to the movies or Enchanted Kingdom, you would see how beautiful and smart he was, in his own way: how disarming his smile could get; how boisterously he would laugh if something amused him; how animated he would be after watching a movie or a play and how he'd talk endlessly about which one was his favorite character; how he wouldn't want to be a bother to people; how he would ask if you're feeling okay and if you needed prayers; how excited he would be to invite you to his birthday party (because every new face he'd meet somehow wound up on the guest list for his next birthday); how thoughtful he would be by wanting to buy you a LEGO set; how giving he would be by wanting to share his controller so you could play a videogame with him, even if it'd be easier to retreat into his own world.

At Enchanted Kingdom in 2012.

I wish I could continue to ramble on and on about how amazing he was, but really, I would run out of bandwidth. However, I guess the best picture I could "paint" to give you a glimpse of how "awesome" he was, to borrow a familiar movie term, would be to talk about the Titanic LEGO ship he built.

In the early 2000's, he managed to get a DVD of the movie Titanic for the first time, and after watching it several times, he was hooked. But he took his fascination with this ship to a different level.

Using LEGO pieces he had accumulated through the years from different sets, he started recreating that 1912 beauty from memory, with only his imagination guiding him. He didn't use any instruction manual to "steer his course" (pun intended); he instinctively knew which piece went where, and what all the dimensions needed to be.

I only managed to see the finished product once, and I regret not being able to take a photo of it (years later, it was disassembled, presumably for the fun of rebuilding it or to make something different). It was at least two feet long and one foot high, and it was incredibly detailed, considering that the colors weren't on point (remember that the pieces came from different LEGO sets).

Just like Goyito's life, not every piece or aspect of him necessarily came together and made sense. At least from the world's standard. But God knew what He was doing when He designed Goyito. And the finished product, everything that made Goyito truly Goyito, was beautiful in his own way.

In his element, assembling away.

A gentle soul, a faithful follower of Christ, a staunch prayer warrior, a skilled LEGO Master Builder, a videogame expert, a playmate for keeps, a bottomless pit especially when it came to lasagna, a loyal member of the family, our Peter Pan — our beloved Goyito.

I wish he didn't have to leave us so soon, but he's definitely in a much, much better Place, filled with infinite LEGOs of various shapes, sizes, and colors. I'd like to think that he's giving Heaven a LEGO-fied touch, and preparing to welcome each of us in the family to an eternal party one day.

And until that time comes, my family and I will continue to celebrate his differently beautiful life and be inspired by the way he lived simply, peacefully, contentedly, and with so much faith in the Lord. 

The Araneta family. Our last photo together in his memorial service.

Thank you, Goyits, for inspiring us in countless ways. Truly, everything has been awesome because you made our lives much, much richer.
In Instagram, the official IRONMAN Triathlon account sometimes reposts people's #WhyWeTri photos. And the reasons people get into triathlon are as varied as there are colors in the entire spectrum. I like reading everyone's posts, and seeing their reasons for getting into the sport.

Sometimes, while training, I also think about why I tri, especially after a hard workout; especially when I'm so tired after a long day that I'd rather sleep instead. And then I always feel better after training and feel grateful for having pushed myself.

I don't think there's just one particular reason behind my wanting to do triathlons (or being in the multisport scene), but I do think it's important to know why I do this and to constantly remind myself.

Here are some — at least the ones that come to mind — of the reasons why I tri.

1) I tri because I can

I have always been an athletic person. My mom first enrolled me in swimming classes at the age of two (fun fact: I was actually terrified of the water as a toddler), I was a competitive swimmer for 10 years, and I have also tried and taken classes in several other sports.

I've always been grateful for what my body has been able to accomplish physically, but it's not always easy. My left foot has two kinds of injuries that I have to manage (plantar fasciitis and posterior tibial tendonitis), plus my calf muscles on my left leg are prone to cramping. I also have asthma, which I have to be on the lookout for. I'm not the fastest, nor the strongest; I'm just an amateur athlete who isn't even an IRONMAN finisher yet.

However, I am able to train and to race, despite my setbacks and despite my busy schedule. I am physically able to endure swimming, biking, and running separately and in succession. I am thankful for being able to do this, and I seek to glorify God in what He can accomplish through me.

Subic International Triathlon, April 2016
Photo © Pet S. Salvador

2) I tri because it is an outlet

My line of work can be really stressful. From long hours, to working on some weekends, to the day-to-day demands, it can take a toll on a person's health and sanity. In my earlier years of being in this industry, I would just take everything in. And admittedly, there was really a time when I would question if I was cut out for all of this.

Thankfully, eventually, I decided to start working out. Initially, it was a tricky balancing act. I had to figure out a schedule that allowed me to sneak in enough time for running (I got into tri years after I was already running regularly; then I brought back swimming, then I got into cycling).

But I stuck to it. And this habit progressed to where I am today.

I realized that triathlon was an outlet I really looked forward to. And when I thought about it further, I noticed that many people in my line of work also had their own outlets — from trekking, to calligraphy, to other sports, to vinyl records collecting, to doodling and selling their works in art fairs. Mine just happened to be more physical in nature.

Triathlon helps me think and not think at the same time. When I do laps in the pool, there have been times when I would come up with ideas or storylines that eventually were turned into TVC scripts. And there are some times when I need to tune out from the demands of this world, and I can do just that while running. It depends a lot on what I'm feeling at a particular moment while training or racing, but the wonderful thing is that I have the liberty to do so.

Biking with my teammates, March 2016

3) I tri because I'm inspired by other people who do it

The tri community is a very giving one. From spectators who cheer for you by the finish line, to your teammates (shoutout to my Poveda Tri Team; my sisters in training and racing!) who will motivate you like no one else, to numerous coaches who will give you tips, to tri friends (both locally and internationally) on social media who will "like" your posts and encourage you, to seeing people of all sizes and shapes racing just as hard as you — how can you not want to be part of it?

Podium finishers (1st and 3rd in the all-female relay category) at Regent 5150, June 2016

4) I tri because it gives me a sense of purpose

I enjoy being able to find that balance among work, life, and training. I enjoy knowing that I can help people (from swim tips, to cheering people on). I enjoy knowing that this — the triathlon scene — is where I'm meant to be right now. I enjoy discovering how training keeps me feeling younger and healthier. I enjoy knowing my limitations and that there is so much more I can improve on (in terms of beating my previous times, in terms of skills and techniques). I enjoy being able to glorify God with what He has allowed me to accomplish in this (multi)sport.

Triman Triathlon, June 2016
Photo © RUN CAB

5) I tri because the finish line feeling is indescribable 

I don't always do individual events (meaning, the whole swim-bike-run by myself). There are many times when I'm just part of a relay team and I usually do the swim. In both cases, though, it's always a joy to cross the finish line; whether it's me after doing the swim-bike-run individually, or whether it's seeing my relay runner crossing it.

It is really the culmination of all the hard work that I (and my teammates) have put in; proof that the training has sufficed, that I've improved (or need to work harder next time), and it erases any pain or discomfort I (or my teammates) may have encountered while racing. I always thank the Lord for carrying me and my teammates to the finish line, each and every race.

Atleta Ako Aquathlon, February 2016

With this, I'd also like to thank the people around me who've also had to put up with this madness: my family, close friends, and even my colleagues. It's hard to understand something you're not really a part of (in the same way I may not fully be able to relate to other people's hobbies or passions), but the fact that they indulge me, cheer for and pray for me, and support me makes me feel like a winner. 

I'd also like to thank the Lord for continuing to help me find joy in this passion of mine, and for understanding that most of my races fall on the Sabbath Day (which means some Sundays are spent doing "solo" worship, hehe).

What's your passion? And why do you do it?

I hope that whatever it is you are into, that it gives you joy and a sense of fulfillment!

P.S. By the time you read this, some of my teammates and I will be on our way to another race, Tri United 2. Kindly say a prayer for us!
Disclaimer: The author of this post has 1.8 years' worth of experience being a #TitaOfManila1 in terms of blood relations. Prior to this, she has had the fortunate privilege of being a tita (or auntie) and ninang (godparent) to the kids of her cousins or friends for over a decade. Needless to say, you could consider her an expert (or close to being one) in the realm of tita-hood. 

Being a tita and ninang is a weird but fun role. For one thing, you will (or probably already) feel this insane, inexplicable bond with your pamangkin2. You are not his/her mom, but you would gladly take a bullet for him/her. You don't have to deal with him/her day in and day out and experience the highs and lows of parenthood, but you don't want to miss out on his/her milestones and daily antics either.

Nevertheless, I take great pride in having a pamangkin and being present in his life as much as possible — sometimes even going over and above the "scope" or job description of being a tita (especially since I only have one pamangkin, at least within my immediate family).

Thus, I would like to share some techniques honed over time, like fine wine, which would enable soon-to-be or newbie titas to achieve the pinnacle, the very best of tita-hood. It would be a disservice on my end if I were to share only watered-down, safe tips.

Thus, I would also like to encourage each of us to go all-out and embrace our tita-ness.

(These tips are applicable for titas of pamangkins who are still infants, all the way to titas of pre-teens and teenagers.)

1) Do not hesitate to be or act like a child — or a pa-cool teen

Being a tita means being a source of entertainment, especially when your pamangkin's/pamangkins' parents are exhausted. This means taking on the role of storyteller, playmate, and sometimes, mascot. This also means altering your voice as needed, crawling on all fours, sticking your tongue out, and brushing up on Elmo's World, Sofia the First, and everything else your pamangkin likes. If you want to be his/her BFF, you have to be fully invested in what he/she likes and do what he/she does. Including understanding what "carps", "starbs", and "pics" mean.

The more entertained he/she is, or the more you understand him/her, the closer you are to achieving that legit tita status.

This is the stuffed toy I bought for my nephew. I've sent my nephew Elmo "selfies" on Viber, copied Elmo's voice, and pretended that stuffed toy Elmo could draw on my nephew's sketchpad.

2. Slowly but surely brainwash him/her to like the things you like

Once I spotted my nephew's interest in drawing or coloring, I bought him two sets of crayons and sketchpads. A good chunk of our bonding time involves me drawing for him, especially when he points to his crayons and looks for his sketchpad in our house (he has another set in his parents' condo). When he brings his 'ayons (his contracted version of "crayons") and papoo ("paper") to me, I take the time to brainwash him into learning a new color, or identifying a letter or a new animal. He has also expressed an interest to "bike!" (which he says really loudly), so being the triathlon freak that I am, I have not-so-secret desires of making him an Ironkid someday.

The more brainwashed he/she is, the closer you are to achieving that legit tita status.

I must have made over 500 versions of Elmo in the past two months. I am hoping that in the next few months or years, he will master how to draw not just Elmo, but everything else and become an artist. That way, he can fulfill my not-so-hidden desires of being an animator or working in Disney. Heh.

3. Spoil him/her rotten (while also mastering the art of not turning your pamangkin into a brat)

On the days you're not together and you come across something he/she would like, get it immediately. Don't even hesitate to do so. A new pair of shoes, a shirt, a toy — the sky's the limit. Not only will it satisfy that semi-maternal instinct you might possess, but it will amuse his/her parents, and naturally, score more BFF brownie points in your pamangkin's/pamangkins' eyes.

The more spoiled he/she is, the closer you are to achieving that legit tita status.

He's now tall enough to ride bikes for 3-year-olds, even if he isn't even 2 years old. Guess what I plan to get for him in the near future.

4. Take a gazillion photos of/with him/her/them

If I were to look at your phone's camera roll, I should expect to see at least 100 photos of/with your pamangkin/pamangkins. In a variety of poses, and in various situations. And they better be your phone's and computer's desktop wallpaper and screensaver. If you already have a pre-teen pamangkin, do not hesitate to upload 1,029,241 snaps with him/her on Snapchat.

The more photos you have, the closer you are to achieving that legit tita status.

One out of the quintillion photos of my nephew and me, taken when we were in Hong Kong early this month.

5. Go all-out in terms of tita-hood by sounding even worse than a lola (or "grandma") when you need to warn your pamangkin if you don't want him/her to do something

Do as lolas do, and nag your pamangkin/pamangkins, hover, and worry about him/her/them even more than his/her/their parents when they're about to touch sockets, ride a bike, get dirty in the playground, or look for a date to the prom. In fact, hide out near the ballroom when your pamangkin is at the prom so you can stalk him/her and his/her date.

The more shadowing, "tsk-tsk-ing", and sharp "NO! AYAYAY!'s" you say or do, the closer you are to achieving that legit tita status.

My nephew discovering the joys of fallen branches and sticks in a Makati park, at the risk of tripping, getting dirty, and exposure to germs.

BONUS TIP: Do not hesitate to ask the parents to send you a photo or a video at any given time of the day, or request to do a video call over Facetime, Viber, or Skype. It doesn't matter at what time of the day, or how often you do this. You can always rationalize that you're not with your pamangkin/pamangkins 24/7 and you miss out on important milestones, like his/her witty one-liners or "firsts".

The more you photos/videos have, or the more video calls you make, the closer you are to achieving that legit tita status.

One of many Facetime conversations with my nephew. This was the first time he really recognized that it was me on the other side of the line, and he was responding to my questions and copying my mannerisms.

Truly, being a legit tita is hard work. It involves being fully invested, being borderline obsessed, and being your pamangkin's/pamangkins' best friend after his/her/their parents. Your role in their life is a unique one, and something worth cherishing from their infancy until adulthood.

You may use tita-hood as practice for being a mom eventually, and it actually is the best kind of practice. From diaper changes to knowing how to give sound advice to a pre-teener, you will know essential life skills that will make transitioning to being a mom much easier.

Or you may just be a perpetual tita, a not-quite-mom-but-a-somekinduva-second-mom, and that's okay, too. That's a wonderful dynamic that's worth keeping, crafting, and honing. 

So embrace tita-hood and do everything in your power3 to ensure you have a wonderful relationship with him/her/them whether you're near or far, whether you're ready for it or not.

Because chances are, no matter what you do anyway, your pamangkin/pamangkins will love you unconditionally and think you're the next coolest thing to their favorite toy or app.

1 A cultural phenomenon that needs a separate post. But if you want to get the general idea of it, check out this article.

2 "Niece" or "nephew" in Filipino. Since it's a gender-neutral noun, I decided to use the term so as to avoid repeating "niece or nephew" a zillion times throughout the post.

3 This entire post is obviously an exaggeration in terms of the role titas should play in the lives of their pamangkins. Don't take it literally, but with a grain of salt, of course. Being a tita is, first and foremost, knowing when not to overstep, or to override what your pamangkins have learned from their parents. So what you do with this role or privilege is entirely up to you, so make the most of it!
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