Tuesday, December 27, 2016

OTHERWISE

Assuming we already met the way we did. What could have happened if you, or I, chose to stay inside that little world for a while more?

Perhaps I eventually found the tiniest bit of courage one day to come up to you during lunch or coffee break and strike a small conversation. Or maybe, since I was too shy to approach you in front of your folks, I would hurriedly punch my time-out on the dot and patiently wait for you outside of the gate, pretending to be innocently waiting for someone to share the trike with going to EDSA. Or if you're walking, I would have pretended to be just on my way to walking too. "Hello... Lalakad ka rin pa-EDSA? Sabay na tayo." You would have freaked out, but most probably gave me that first try because you did not want to embarrass me by saying no. But the next time you see me outside of the gate you would take another route because you cannot stand me draining you once more with my inquisitiveness. But I would have tried and tried, over and over. That was, if you, or I, had a little more time.

Perhaps, when I cornered you again and you decided to give me another chance one afternoon, you'd find out we can have some sensible conversations after all. Then you'd let me share the trike ride with you from time to time. At that point I'd be asking you what's on your current reading list, and you'd be talking non-stop about that book you've been reading over and over. I would like to read it too, but I'd still be shy to borrow your copy. You look like someone whose books are arranged in Dewey decimal classification in thick, wooden shelves. But I can't wait for the next afternoon, so I'd ask you to meet the next morning at the trike terminal so we could walk together to the office. Eventually, we'd be doing that every morning just so I could keep up with all your detailed book reviews. Perhaps those mornings would not have been so monotonous for me. That was, if you, or I, had a little more time.

Perhaps, after a couple of months more, realizing that trike rides and long walks are still not enough, I would gather a little more courage to take the bus with you to Cubao. You would usually prefer to just take a nap throughout the stretch of traffic, but I would not let you because I have more questions. I am like the Little Prince --- I do not let go of a question once I asked it. But unlike most adults, you're not interested with matters of consequences, and so you would ask me your questions too, just to get even. If neither of us are in a hurry but are both hungry, we'd probably be annoying each other by treating the other to a simple dinner. I would have known by then that you're not used to being treated, and so am I. On lean days, we'd have a casual meal at a decent fast food, because I know you don't mind. On some days, or just any day you want, I'd be treating you to a large bowl of authentic ramen. With extra soup and extra noodles. That was, if you, or I, had a little more time.

Perhaps I'd be delaying my house chores sometimes for Sunday and just hang out with you for real on Saturdays. From time to time I'd be asking you to go with me to check out new collections in good museums. Or just take strolls around UP and eat isaw and dirty ice cream. Or a supermarket trip in Cubao. Or just hop on-hop off LRT lines. I would probably be waiting for Cinemalaya season and reserve festival passes for us pretty early so we could watch everything you think is good or which your friend is either an actor, a producer, or a director. That was, if you, or I, had a little more time.

As for more time, we didn't have it back then. But still, we met again; and it's this chance we would have to take to forget about what was otherwise. #


WHAT COULD BE THE LAST. CHAROT.

I don't want to add to those "year-end" articles in your feed but I mustered the strength to battle my laziness today and type something anyway. That, and I just found it utterly unbelievable that I have not posted anything since October this year, not to mention that that last post was a very cryptic piece of crap that one of my readers rated it "Ano Daw?" LOL. Pasalamat ka untraceable yung click. But thanks anyway for being honest. I read it again today, and I couldn't agree more! 😂

I have failed yet again to keep up with my target and write as much as I want/have to this year. I guess my energies have been diverted heavily, to say the least. I wouldn't go into detail on where they were purportedly diverted, as my mind's flashing mental pictures of econometric data and trade policy graphs once again as I try to recall them. It was just funny that I actually did not TOTALLY forget about opening this webpage during those times. When I visited my Drafts section, I actually have 5 pending posts, two of which I only managed to write down the title and then pressed exit! 🙌 But for what could be my last post this year, allow me to at least let you know what I have been intending to post over the last 5 months. For the first time, I'm treating you to a rare, inside access to my Drafts section. 😜

1) Title: INTRICACIES --- One of those two that I managed to write only the title of. Seriously, I could not even remember now how I intended to play with that word just by the look of it. Perhaps one of my "pa-deep" posts, those where I tell you about about a normal everyday experience-turned-out-to-be-a-sudden-moment-of-epiphanous-realization? (Ooops, that sounded quite redundant). Who cares, I can't even remember it myself. Aye, I guess this confirms to you clearly I am but an unorganized pseudo-writer! 😈

2) Title: VIA DELA ROSA (THE WAY OF 'BATO') --- I drafted this a month after President Duterte was sworn into office and the killings related to the war on drugs has started. I have not finished it for the simple reason that my facts kept getting outdated everyday. The number of casualties kept on rising, and in another month's time, both the Congress and the Senate initiated investigations soon after we've gotten attention from the international community questioning these to be extrajudicial. I wasn't able to keep up with the proportion this issue has blown into. What started to be a "simple" battle against crime at a national level became nothing less than a political battle of who has better capacities to protect their turfs and interests. I was very surprised to hear of people saying they feel "safer" with the way things were going. Safer, until someone innocent you know gets sacked and added to statistics. And even if they are not innocent, what the hell is up with using shortcut solutions? I have feared enough and I have had enough debates with different kinds of people on this. I guess my only point is, let's not reduce those numbers into mere statistics, and let's try to look at the whole entangled issue in multiple angles. For how can we all be sure that what's being fed to us by the media is the truth after all?

3) Title: HOW DARE YOU 'SEEN-ZONE' ME? --- I drafted this during the time I disabled my "Seen" settings in Viber and WhatsApp. I loved Twitter DMs, until they also placed that feature. Fortunately you have an option to disable, unlike FB where people are making their way around not opening the Messenger chathead when it pops up on your screen. Aminin mo. Para-paraan lang yan. But seriously, I realized it caused me a lot of unnecessary psychological stress waiting for responses, feeling like 60 seconds were 60 freaking years. I am thankful for the internet and instant messaging now that I am far away and a snail mail takes two months to arrive. On the other hand, it can also damage us in some ways. I fancy the time when meeting people would simply be stating the date, time, and place you should both be. I hate that "text text na lang" thing. I tolerate a certain level of spontaneity, but wasting my time is an unforgivable matter. 😔

4) Title: SA ISANG SULOK --- The second title-only post, haha! Although for this one, at least I remember what it should have been about. I intended this one to be a poem, in Filipino, since seldom do I actually find the courage to write something in Tagalog because every time I finish one, it sounds really, really corny. I'm not saying that my poems in English are not (lololol), but personally they sound less cringe-worthy for me. 😅 This poem was supposed to be about the silent battles that people we know, people very close to us, face --- and seldom do we know. In a time when social media allows and actually encourages people to "express" themselves by posting status updates, photos, and live videos, the real picture is almost always ignored. I am not to talk about being sensitive, because I have been called insensitive so many times and I am not in a position to disagree. And this is probably why I wanted to write something on this, for I know that I am made up of both strong and weak pieces altogether. 

5) Title: Untitled --- I have written a couple of paragraphs but failed to give a title so far. My intro goes, "This is a sequel to a sequel." After my birthday, I realized I just turned 29 and I recalled that I had a blog post before about targetting to die at 28. That post was actually already a sequel, because I originally wrote my first target when I was 24! So if I got past the mark, don't you think you deserve to know why I'm still alive and hanging around your lives for no reason? Well, I did not get to finish because I'm tired of setting targets. I'd be turning 30 next year and I have a whole range of a decade to choose from --- that's too boring. Death, at least as far as I think, should come as a sweet surprise. So no targets for me for now. Maybe that should speed up the process. 🙊

That's the first and last time I'll let you in on my Drafts section, buddy. What post do you think should I strive to finish? Comment below! Charot. Wala na akong balak tapusin kahit ano diyan. I'm happy to share these thoughts aloud anyway. 😤 #




Thursday, October 27, 2016

SUNSPOTS

I.

Waking.
Daylight clinching over thoughts
In a world only I can command,
In a mind only I can govern.

Yellow and blue, crimson and gold.
I paint every piece of you
and what my memories can hold.

Screams and sighs as nights unfold.
I hear every bit of you
and what my ears could recall.

I delight in your beauty,
The disarming smile you wear.
I surrender to your strength,
Through fragile stories you share.

II.

Sleeping. 
Oblivious thoughts race free
In a place where I see myself as me,
In a sphere where I bar no holds.

Buildings and beaches, nighttime and day
We saunter through valleys
To where my mind's eye take us away.

Hopes and dreams, embraces and scars
We scuttle freely through fields
Until my reason awakens.

Waking.
A hold without touch.
Sleeping.
You possess me nonetheless.

I have shed liters of saline
With the void Time bequeathed.
But I will wait for you still,
'Til Life silences me for real.


Friday, July 22, 2016

DEAR FANGIRL

August 13, 2022

Dear Fangirl,

How are you doing? I hope all's well. I'm really sorry it's just now that I found the time to reply to your letters. I received the comic book you sent me a couple of months ago --- thank you, that's really sweet. I don't usually get stuff from people so this will definitely be treasured. I'd also like to thank you for constantly reading my work. I am not a big shot, you know that, and there are days when I lose my motivation to write. Whenever I do, I always think about readers like you who might be waiting for my next piece. That is, if I have any other readers aside from you. But really, thank you. Oh by the way, haven't you celebrated your birthday a few weeks ago? Sorry forgot to greet you. I'm slightly demented. Lately I have been forgetting so many things. Maybe because of age. I hope you don't feel bad.

How are things going with your design business? The economy doesn't always go well for artists like us but I do hope you're still on it, fighting a little bit harder every day. Because that's what we are made of. By the way do you already have a copy of my second book? I think they only have it at the UP and UST Press right now. But if you haven't, please don't bother. I wanted to surprise you with a signed copy I've been keeping for you but I just didn't have time to send it out by post. Funny I honestly forgot where I put it now. If I find it, I will send you within the week, I promise. Is that your same home address? Just checking as you might already have moved in with your partner. How are things going with you two by the way? Has he finished med school yet? Is that right he's taking med? Or is that law? Or engineering? I remember things have been quite rocky over the past year but you have not mentioned anything about it anymore in your last letter so I assumed you two have settled your differences.

How's your Papa doing? I hope his hypertension is not as bad as before. Wait, was that your Papa or your Mama? How could I forget. Anyway just be really strict about his/her diet. My mom's not doing any better. Did I mention to you she's also hypertensive? Or maybe it wasn't you to who I mentioned it. I don't really remember but anyway, yes she is. The doctor said she can stop her maintenance meds last year but for some reason she has relapsed. Maybe also because of old age. Whenever I think about her and Dad getting old I can't help but feel very old too. In a few years time I know I'll have my share of strokes, diabetes, Alzheimer's, or cancer, Lord knows.

I'm actually writing my third book. I plan to put it out a little early compared to how long it took before I released my second. My copies are not selling well, I was told. I don't know if it's just the boring content or people are more interested in playing Pokemon Go now. Maybe even my old readers have forgotten about me now. Perhaps I should write something more commercialized? Or I should change my pen name? Or try a nicer cover art? I'm a little pressured and going broke. It's true what they say about writers. But who cares? I love what I'm doing and I enjoy the challenge, even if there are days when I only get to eat a piece of leftover pizza and a cup of instant coffee. That's enough to last me until the next day. That is, if I even remember to feed myself that day.

By the way, I think it's payback time for you. I want you to do the cover art for my third book. I'm going home for Christmas this year and I want to discuss my ideas with you. Sir Pete lined me up for a benefit poetry reading event he's organizing that same month. I'd love to see you there. There'd be a lot of other great Pinoy writers and some nice local indie bands. Even I am thrilled to meet some of them. Third Saturday at Mow's. 9pm. Don't forget. I'll be waiting for you.

Much love and respect,
Your favorite writer


Sunday, July 17, 2016

VALENCE

This is definitely the longest bus ride of my life. Traffic worsens every day but I wish at least bad luck should have spared me this day. In one of the busy intersections along Shaw Boulevard a group of public school kids were waiting to cross the chaotic pedestrian lane. I suddenly remembered getting my first beating from the next door neighbor's kids.

Typical childhood story. I was about five and like any other kids, wanted to belong. That day I brought out my remote control-operated toy car that Papa bought me for Christmas. That was my favorite treat inside the Balikbayan box he sent us that year. I marched all the way to where the other boys were playing, teeming with pride thinking that they would respect me for having something none of them have at that time. But I was wrong. Before I could even start my bragging speech, Tonio, the biggest kid who everybody was afraid of, gestured to one of his little "sidekicks" something that I didn't exactly understand. Next thing I know I was guarding the toy with my whole life. I didn't want to let go, but I was outnumbered. Instead of an incentive, the shiny little red Ferrari became a burdensome piece of junk I never wished I received at all. I ran back to the house, straight to the kitchen where I know Mama always was. She was horrified to see my black and blue face. I was crying so bad.

"Anak, why didn't you just give it to them right away?" she asked as she cleaned my wounds with wet cloth and antiseptic. 

"But that's my favorite. It's Papa's present," I justified, in between sobs.

"Papa can always buy you a new one. Next time don't play with those boys anymore. Hala, go wash yourself so we can have dinner."

That was my first taste of life's cruelty and in my mind ran so many why's that I could not answer. Why do kids hurt other kids? Why did they always want to pick on me? Why didn't I fight back? Yet, of all the questions I was asking myself, I could never forget the only thing I raised to my mother. "Mama," I said, still sobbing, "why do my tears taste salty?" I noticed a certain tenderness swept through her face. Mama smiled gently and said it was because of the presence of "sodium" and "potassium." Of course I didn't understand those big words, but she further explained these complex optical processes over dinner. Yes, to a five-year-old.

That's Mama. She always finds a way to make me completely forget about the pain I am experiencing. That's why I'm still perplexed after Tonet called me in the office a couple of hours ago.

"Hello, Tonet?" Silence. "Huy. Are you okay?"

"Kuya, ang Mama..." Silence again.

"Okay, I'd be there in an hour."

Two hours though and I'm still stuck at EDSA. Tonet kept on texting but I didn't want to open any of them. I felt like a coward, exactly how I felt the day I first tasted life's cruelty. I was just there, staring outside the gigantic bus window, trying to make sense once again of life's big concepts, like when I first heard of "sodium" and "potassium." I'm so used to life's harsh blows that I feel like I have an intrinsic positive valence for bad luck. I don't cry a lot though. When I look back, there were just two other instances my entire life when I really cried. When, instead of Christmas treats, it was Papa's body we received inside the Balikbayan box from Saudi. And when we found out Mama has terminal breast cancer. Sometimes I don't know what more can life throw at me. Today though, it gave me another.

I didn't want to cry but I could not hold it in any longer. Amidst the sound of the air condition and the faint voices of people murmuring, I just let them slide, down my cheeks, to my lips, to the edge of my chin from where it finally dropped to the bus' window sill. Like a five year old kid, I felt curious and tasted them. They didn't taste anything at all. Mama didn't tell me that tears can lose its saltiness. Unfortunately, I cannot anymore ask her why. #


Monday, July 11, 2016

MAY BOYFRIEND KA NA?

Sa darating na katapusan ng buwan, ako'y magdiriwang ng ika-isang taong anibersaryo ng aking paglisan sa piling ni Inang Bayan upang patuloy na paglinangin ang kaalaman sa ekonomiya ng agrikultura. Bukod sa aking pamilya, pansamantala kong iniwan ang mahal kong mga kaibigan at syempre huwag nating kalimutan ang aking alagang aso. Gaya ng inaasahan, nababawasan din ang bilang ng mga taong aking nakakapanayam sa paglipas ng mga buwan. Subalit, sa lahat ng mga taong ako'y kinukumusta pa rin (o kinukumusta ko) paminsan-minsan, dalawang tanong ang siyamnapu't siyam na porsiyento kong hinaharap:

1) Hi Ate ! Nakapag-adjust ka na ba sa weather diyan?
2) May boyfriend ka na?

Epic. Question. Number. Two. Yeng tetee? Iniisip ko nga, saan kaya sila nanggagaling? Masaya naman ako at alam ko ang gusto ko sa buhay ko. Explicitly ko namang sinabing nagpunta ako rito para mag-aral. Anong kinalaman ng boyfriend? Ni hindi ako tinanong kung ano na ang natutunan ko at pwede ko iuwi sa Pilipinas so far. Enebeyen. 

Napipilitan tuloy ako maging pilosopo paminsan. Kung hindi ko dadaanin sa normal na "wala pa eh" dahil di naman kami masyado close nung nagtanong to begin with, napipilitan akong maging malikhain. Sa katunayan meron na akong kaunting canned responses na naipon:

a.) 'Pag sinabihan kang magte-trenta ka na at "kailangan" mo nang bumuo ng sariling pamilya soon:
*Wow. 'Di pwedeng maiba? Inalam mo man lang ba kung anong plano ko sa buhay ko?*

b.) 'Pag in-insist pa rin na tumatakbo na ang biological clock:
*Hindi ko po hinahabol. Ktnxbye.*

c.) 'Pag sinabing choosy/mataray ka kasi:
*Eh? Kasalanan ko pa kung hindi nila ako masabayan? Namambuhay 'to oh.*

d.) 'Pag sinabing marami namang "gwapo" sa Alemanya at mabenta ang Pinay beauty sa mga Kanluranin:
*Halika 'teh, ikaw na lang dito.*

e.) 'Pag sinabihan kang tomboy ka 'ata eh:
*Affected ka? Lelz.*

f.) 'Pag tinanong ka kung bakit:
*Dahil gusto ko. [Mic drop]*

g.) 'Pag sinabi mong dahil yun ang gusto mo pero sinabihan kang bitter/defensive ka lang pero bothered ka talaga deep inside:
*[FACE PALM]*

Pero dahil kalmado naman ako (in general, by default), hindi ko pa naman nagamit ang mga canned responses ko sa kahit na sino. Kidding aside though, mahirap bang unawain kapag may mga tao (kababaihan, to be more specific) na hindi umaayon ang takbo ng buhay sa karaniwan? It frustrates me, honestly. Sa isang lipunan ng ika-dalawampu't isang siglo kung saan inaakala mong 'progresibo' na ang kaisipan ng mga tao, may bahagi pa ring maaaring hindi pa handa o hindi talaga bukas sa mga bagay na labas sa nakasanayan. Maraming impluwensiya, syempre, at hindi rin naman natin pwedeng lahatin. Nariyan ang kinalakhang pamilya, kultura, relihiyon, ang environment na ginagalawan, mga personal na karanasan, at ang exposure at access sa iba't ibang uri ng impormasyong may kinalaman sa ebolusyon ng lipunan. Nasaan ba ang ugat? Nasa tingin pa rin ba ng "modernong" lipunan sa papel na ginagampanan ng kababaihan?

Marami tayong pag-uusapan tungkol diyan. At dahil marami akong oras dahil wala naman akong boyfriend and I'm not spending my time looking for one, mas mainam pa sigurong upuan natin paminsan ano ba'ng masasabi mo sa paksang 'yan. Kalmado ako, wag kang mag-alala. Pero isang tanong pa, bibigwasan na talaga kita. #


Saturday, July 9, 2016

THREE-THIRTY

You could have heard a pin drop.
3:30am --- you wished time could stop.
The inevitable first day of the week.
Daddy's already dragging your feet.
Bumpy trike ride's no cure for the drowse.
Just nap on the bus, sweet little dormouse.

But what, in truth, are wake up calls for?
For me to ring you to a new day you so abhor?
I know that last night did not go so well,
Even if lately you never cared to tell.
9:30. On the other side of the world, I sit still.
3:30. I know you're awake, ready for the drill.

Bus rides back home are but placebos,
Short whiles to slow down all your woes.
"But that's fine," I would always say,
"Just tell me what happened to your day."
They were heart-wrenching, at times very funny.
But now it takes luck for me to hear a single story.

What makes you think that silence heals?
What makes you so sure that time will reveal?
My inevitable mornings have been like your Mondays,
Slow-driving, night-blindness, on unfamiliar highways.
3:30. From the other side of the world, I just let you be.
9:30. I know you're awake. Do you still think of me? #


Thursday, June 30, 2016

AWKWARD

"Hi! Bigla kitang naisip. Wala lang. :)" Wait. Masyadong feeling close. May smiley pa. Kahiya. Backspace backspace backspace. Hmmm. Eto na nga lang. "Hello". Walang punctuation mark para safe. Send.

"Uy!!! You're alive! Musta? :)" Nako. Bakit ba sinend ko kaagad yun? Baka sabihin inisip kong patay na siya. Diyahe. Hayaan mo na nga.

You're alive talaga? Ang tagal ko yatang di nagparamdam. Kambiyo konti. "Ok lang. How are you?" Keri naman na siguro yun. Generic lang. Kaso 'di ba parang ang cold? 'Di naman siguro.

Yikes, ang cold naman neto. :( "Ok naman, buhay pa rin. :)" Send. Ay wait. Ano nga ba yung huli naming usapan last year? Baka sakaling mag-warm-up pag binanggit ko. (Halungkat sa Inbox. Finds it.)  "Kumusta kayo ni [Person A]? {since di naman niya pinangalanan dahil di naman sila close kahit dati} 'Di ba magkikita sana kayo? Anyare?" Send.

In fairness, naalala niya pa yun. "Ahh, yun? Wala naman. Hindi kami natuloy. Tinawag siya ng Kalikasan." Send.

Ano daw? Joke ba yun o poetic? 'Di ko gets. Kaso nakakahiyang pa-explain, baka sabihin ang slow ko. "Ah talaga. Sayang naman. Baka hindi pa oras na magkita kayo. :)" Hala. Wala na akong masabi. Change topic. "Dun ka pa rin nagwo-work?" Kahit never naman niya binanggit sa 'kin san siya nagwo-work. >_<

LOL sa 'hindi pa oras.' "Yep. Dun pa rin. Wala namang bago. Pasok sa umaga, uwi sa gabi. Pinapayaman yung kumpanya. Ako eto, mahirap pa rin." 

"Haha same lang pala tayo eh. Corporate slaves. :P" Ayan medyo nagkukunwento na siya.

"Yeah."

":)"

":)"

---


Bahala ka na magbigay ng ending. Best ending suggestion wins the prize. :D

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

NEGASTAR

May kilala kang ganyan? O ikaw mismo ganyan? Hindi ka nag-iisa. Paminsan ako mismo ganyan. Pa'no, ang hirap naman kasi magpaka-"happy happy" 'pag pakiramdam mo wala nang nangyaring tama sa buong araw o buong linggo mo o buong buwan mo. Minsan pakiramdam mo ikaw yung kinakantahan ng The Rembrandts sa theme song nila ng "Friends" eh. It's like you're always stuck in second gear. When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year. Oh sige na, ituloy mo na sa chorus.

I'll tell you a little nega-story. So we've been pressured to write a research paper within 4 weeks and had to present it in mock-conference style. Right. What do I know about scientific research, writing, and presenting in front of agriculture experts? Zero. Nada. Null. We were just telling each other, the purpose of the module is for us to learn and get used to this stuff anyway. Well, getting it done once is one thing. Getting used to it is another. And hell no one ever gets used to them, we realized. It's just that AgEcon students really take things more seriously than any other specie in the campus. We have more than enough empirical evidence for that.

I was able to submit the paper and presentation file on time, and yesterday came my dreaded day. I have been used to presenting to a very critical audience in the past few years but for some reason I just can't help but still get the jitters whenever I need to give one. It was all in my head --- I have no solid scientific background, my paper had a poor structure, I gave insufficient evidence, I blabber a lot when I'm nervous, and that I'll just die in front of my advisers in the question and answer part. In my mind I was so sure that it's going to be a total mess. Hours before the real thing I noticed my hands were starting to get cold (it's 30 degrees Celsius in Hohenheim yesterday btw) and my classmates noticed I was spacing out and wasn't paying attention to the conversation. "You're nervous," they said. "Well, yeah," I just replied. But deep inside I knew I was starting a terrible panic attack. I am not able to express myself well in such state, unlike others who can just shout it all out or shake it off to the person right next to them. But I knew that if I allow myself to get deeper into that psychological state, all the weeks of my hard work will go down the drain. That's the time I started shifting gears. I've had panic attacks in the past and it was never funny or easy to recover from. So I followed my 1-2-3.

Step 1. Breathe it out. I took my phone and texted my best bud. I said "Mehn sobrang kinakabahan ako. Inhale exhale, inhale exhale, hwooh." I was literally inhaling and exhaling heavily then to keep myself from palpitating. Message sent. That calmed me down a bit. I didn't need to get a response, she knows that. I literally just need to let it all out with someone I am purely comfortable with.

Step 2. Loosen up. I excused myself from the group and said I needed to print a copy of my presentation. Truth is, I just badly needed to divert all the energy in my brain to my appendages by taking a walk. So I sauntered down the road and back and forth and back and forth for 20 minutes or so until I reached my secret spot in the campus. That calmed me down a bit further.

Step 3. Tell yourself you can. I sat down on an old wooden bench in this little park in front of San Antonius von Padua Church. There was no one around (as usual, that's why I love that spot) so I was able to continue my breathing exercise and talk to myself ALOUD a little bit. I asked myself: Who read 20+ journals and books and did all the research? I did. Who wrote the effin' paper? I did. Who made the presentation? I did. And who's going to give the presentation? I WILL. So there's no other person in the room, not even my advisers, would know anything more about it than I do. And even if they know more, hell, I am in front and I am in command. I was of course tempted to think that I'm just making up the good feeling. But if I'm just faking it 'til I make it, I would at least make it than not getting there at all. A soft breeze blew my direction and as it went past me I felt like a lot of the bad energies left me. A lot, but not all. After a short convo with the Big Guy I stood up and did what I had to do. (The rest of the story is not as interesting anymore. I was ready for the worst but surprisingly it went well. Got a good feedback for both the paper and the presentation.)

My little allegory might sound mababaw for the problems that you are facing right now. Unhappy with your job? Unemployed? Family problems?  In a rut with something or someone? Ang saya kaya magpaka-negastar. But don't take it away from you. It's part of being human to experience a roller coaster of emotions --- no one stays fully positive all the time. And hey, even seemingly positive people have their share of downs and nega-star moments. The only thing is, know when enough is enough. Most of the time we already know what to do but we just don't take that one crucial step to shift the gears. I know it ain't easy. But even big things start with a little 1-2-3. #

Sunday, June 26, 2016

CUBAO

I practically grew up knowing the old Cubao. Naalala mo yung Christmas show dati sa C.O.D. 'pag malapit na mag-Pasko? Walang sinabi yung Greenhills dun, dude. Eh yung Fiesta Carnival? Nung bata ako para na 'kong nakapag-EK pag sinasakay kami ni Daddy sa chipipay na tsubibo dun. Nandun pa rin naman yung building. Shopwise na nga lang siya ngayon.

Ngayong matanda na 'ko though, for some reason, Cubao pa rin ang puntahan ko. 'Pag naba-badtrip ako at gusto ko mapag-isa, nagpupunta ako ng Cubao. Pagkatapos ko lakarin yung kahabaan ng Farmers hanggang Gateway hanggang Araneta Coliseum hanggang Ali Mall hanggang SM, uuwi na ako. 'Pag may kailangan akong bilhin, titignan ko muna kung meron sa Cubao. 'Pag trip ko maghanap ng lumang bagay, sinasadya ko yung Cubao Expo.

Ewan ko anong meron sa Cubao. Siguro una, dahil malapit lang. Isang sakay, convenient nga naman. 'Pag trip mo naman magdala ng sasakyan, mag-park ka lang sa Shopwise at bumili ng kung ano, libre na parking ticket mo. Pangalawa, dahil siguro may saktong timpla ng gulo at kaayusan, ng luma at bago, at ng ingay at katahimikan. Makikita mo yung mga jeje sa Farmers pagbaba ng MRT pero 'pag lumakad ka sa Gateway susunugin ka ng Rustans sa presyo ng mga bagay-bagay. Pumupunta lang ako dun dahil malakas yung aircon. Tsaka dahil nandun yung Fully Booked. Dati. Balita ko naging Uniqlo na raw ngayon yun. Lech. Oh well, may National pa rin naman. Na binawasan na rin daw ng isang level. Lech ulit. Pangatlo, siguro dahil simpleng tao lang naman ako. Masaya na 'kong binabalik-balikan yung mga lugar na may naaalala ako, kahit marami na rin namang nagbago. Siguro dahil sa lugar ng mga alaala, nag-iba man ang itsura, may pakiramdam na mananatili at ikaw lang ang makakaunawa.

Yeah, I'm boring like that. I'm mababaw like that. I'm ma-sentimiento like that. Masaya na 'ko sa maliliit na bagay. Supermarket hopping. Kain. Titingin kung may exhibit sa libreng art gallery. Walang katapusang lakaran. Masaya na 'kong gumagala sa mga lugar na pwede lang ako magmasid at mag-isip-isip. So, sasamahan mo ba 'ko sa Cubao pag-uwi ko? #


SUNDAY, SUMMER, STRUGGLES

Since it's a sunny Sunday I felt like playing some America as my working background. At least it makes my sad little box a lot more like home, where Sundays would be about good old music and a lot of house chores.

I'm not dealing with house chores today though. I am cramming for a presentation (only the first of three coming in the next two weeks) which I have not had a chance to finish after catching a bad flu paired with allergies this week. Apparently Hohenheim is the worst part of Stuttgart where pollen and other grass particles party the most in between Spring and Summer. Seriously, walking around campus now feels like winter --- it's really warm at 30 degrees, but white fibers keep flying all around like snow! So much for biodiversity. My allergies didn't used to be as bad back home. I don't even take anti-histamines. Now all I can do is pray for rain every day.

Yesterday I told myself I'll stay at home to get rid of the pollen party outdoors. Took some pills and slept early. Still, I woke up feeling quite groggy today, with my left brain throbbing and my right brain numbing. I'm in a coughing fit and my muscles ache like hell. Made myself some cough tea and opened my half-baked presentation and tried reading through my paper (which I am not at all happy about either) to get some details. Worse, I'm struggling with laziness and I'm trying to justify my procrastination. My professor's an a** anyway and all he cares about is your spoken English. Since nobody's a native English speaker among us, we're not anymore expecting too much. On the other hand though, I want to make good in front of my adviser. But the third struggle is, I just want to get over the d*mn thing.

And so I am at it again. Patterns, patterns, patterns. It's interesting though. In life we get to experience a lot of things, go to many places, meet a lot of people. However, we only get to maximize these encounters as much as we allow ourselves to. As for me, no matter what I do and wherever I go, I get easily disinterested after a few turns. Maybe because I'm naturally lazy. That, or I easily get contented. Is there something wrong with that? I don't even want to think about it. As one of my favorite people would always tell me, "At least you were challenged. And you learned something." Well, I'm not exactly sure what I'm learning so far, but I'm pretty much enjoying this getting-to-know-yourself-somewhere-out-there ride. One more hell of a year, baby. Oh yeah. #


Tuesday, June 14, 2016

NAME

"You have a beautiful name. Your parents must be big art fans." I rehearse those words in mind every time I catch a glimpse of you and I ready myself to talk about something in case I get caught in a situation where I am forced to strike a conversation. I was thinking that art would be most likely the thing we would have in common. I'm not a hardcore fan though, save for some mainstream painters. I don't even know much about the painter with the same name as yours except literally for his name. The conversation would not be forced, however. I always wanted a small talk with you. The first time you walked in and got introduced, I just smiled and said to myself, "wow". Something about you intrigues me. Was it just your name? I wanted so much to find out.

No small talk ever happened though. I thought maybe I just wasn't fit enough to be in your intellectual world. Going six years forward from that first encounter, I discovered you weren't named after that painter at all. And nor did your parents give it to you. That small talk, if it happened, must have been very embarrassing then. But maybe not. Because I could have carried on asking you to tell me more about you, instead of hearing just a faint "yes, thank you" from you. But it was not bound to happen.

Today, I'm still thrilled to call you by your name. It gives me the chills. It rolls into my tongue like soft fresh snow in the early morning. It paints my lips into a smile like seeing a warm sunrise from a breathtaking skyline. It's beautiful. It suits you perfectly. Sometimes, when I get carried away, I tend to call you by some other names. You don't like any of them though. But maybe that's fine. With every letter pronounced the way you said it should be, I pronounce the deepest emotions that no other name in this world can replace, no matter how sugar-coated they may sound. Your name is the sweetest. Your name is my weakness. Because when I call you by your name, I know you're the only one. #


Sunday, April 17, 2016

I WRITE TO THE WORLD THE THINGS I CANNOT WRITE TO YOU



I haven't written much since we started "talking" again. 

Or I don't know if it's just because I've been starting to shift my craft from creative to academic-slash-scientific writing. The direction I am taking right now is pretty much a hundred and eighty degrees turn, as they usually say. I have been accustomed to using words as an escape, a weapon, or simply an extension of my restless thoughts. But now that I'm veering away from the very form that most people have quite "recognized" me with, I somewhat fear that along the way I'm also starting to lose the very connection where we started with. 

Or maybe that's just me being too nostalgic. But you see, I've been a fan of your work, and so have you been mine. We've existed in each other's world, but without the other knowing fully the real context behind those hard-thought metaphors. And although you've already taken down most of the stuff where I solely relied upon to update myself with what's happening to you back then, there still are days when I wish I can just walk down "memory lane". I have a penchant for looking back at the past, and re-reading our rare conversations every time sheds a light to some of the puzzles that I've always had a hard time living with. It's like browsing through a dusty photo album of an old friend. It's like watching those '90s home videos in VHS. It makes my heart smile and cry at the same time. 

Even with our new-found proximity, there still are times when I cannot bring myself to put into words --- yes, the very words that I have tried to shape in my own form all these years --- some things that I want to say or ask or scream to you about. It is at these times that I find my art both a blessing and a curse. Just as when most would probably think that it should be relatively easy, it is actually when it is hardest. That's why I just write to the world the very things that I cannot write to you. Scribbles of hopes, of dreams, of assurances, and of silence. Hoping that someday when you read back, since you've sworn that you're my biggest fan and I'm pretty sure you're going to find a way to read them, you'll get to realize that the world I'm trying to talk to is nothing but you. #

Friday, March 4, 2016

THE LAST STRAW



"Charley, do you have a minute tonight?" By the way he sounded, I knew he wasn't just asking for a minute. "Okay, not really one minute. Can you come over for dinner over wine tonight? It's been a while." I knew it. Not a bad idea. I was anyway in the office reviewing blue prints for a client presentation on Monday. "Sure, Kuya. I'd be driving to your place ‘round 8pm, okay?" After arranging how to go about the limited parking space in his condo, we hung up.

It's just 3pm and I can barely focus on the plates after that phone call. Half of my mind was somewhere else, and the other curious half was trying to think about what tonight’s agenda would be. Though we grew up together, my brother was not exactly the sweet kind of guy who would invite me over just so we could catch up with each other's lives. More so, he never really involved me in his personal dealings, unless I know the person he's having quite some difficulty with. Could it be about our cousin who made him a human ATM but who never made a single deposit? Man, Kuya is such a nice-ass who can't say no to people. Could it be about our aunt with whom he had a heated argument about the family inheritance? If you could even consider half a hectare an 'inheritance', to be split among eight siblings. Heavens, I should’ve asked him before he hung up. I can’t believe I could be so much like his girlfriend sometimes. Wait. Could it be about Leona?

My stupid message tone instantaneously bursted my thought bubble. One text from Leona. “Hi bessie, care for some coffee after work tonight? I just thought we…”, read the message preview. Looks like my mental detective game is over. It is indeed going to be about Leona. My brother’s girlfriend is not exactly my BFF, but she fondly calls me ‘bessie’, maybe because we’re of the same age. We hang out sometimes since we have a lot in common --- she’s also an architect, loves coffee, books, painting, Philippine history, just name anything boring. That, aside from the fact that I’m her first aid when it comes to her strains with Kuya. So how does it feel to get caught up between them again? Sometimes I’m tempted to just tell them that I don’t really give a damn. Nah, of course I still do.

As I reached for my phone thinking about a nice alibi, I was wondering if it was one of those self-esteem problems Leona has been dealing with again. She's a board top-notcher, street-smart, kind, sweet, caring, thoughtful, generous, genuine, and not to mention very beautiful too. But for some strange reason, she’s kind of sensitive and jealousy, would always think of herself as unimportant like a lonely little wallflower, no matter how much you make her feel that she’s precious and loved. When I’m not in the mood for her drama, my evil side would wonder if she’s just fishing for compliments. But people who are like that would stop acting miserable when you give them their share of ego-boosters. But Leona? Nah. I just need to hear two magic words from Kuya to figure out what’s going on: I’m drained.

Message sent. I just told her I still need to stop by the organic store to get mom her favorite green pesto spread. Leona has a weakness for mothers. She lost hers to cancer when she was just 12. I know she wouldn’t insist anymore, but I felt a cringe in my guts with that little white lie that I just made. Lies. I used to be a liar. A pretentious, young career woman keeping up an intimidating face when all that’s inside me was just plain crap. I used to be so jealous, so doubting of the assurance that I receive from people who mattered, when they don’t even understand why I needed assurance to begin with. Leona met me after that state. She doesn’t know that we have a lot more in common more than coffee and history. And she doesn’t know that all it took to turn me around were the last two words of someone so dear to me but whose last straw I regrettably pulled: I’m drained.

It’s just 6pm but the February skyline spells like 8pm already. Three hours of mental torture was not healthy at all. Reaching out for my bag to get the car keys, my guts told me to pick up my phone instead. “Hi Leona,” I started typing. “Organic shop’s out of pesto. Are you still up for coffee?” #

Thursday, February 18, 2016

AS FAR AS


I.

I sat with Silence ---

On a porch, on a grey-skied afternoon.
Chin on my knees. Arms 'round my shanks.
Harking back, choking up, musing on nothing.
Nothing --- that was everything I ever had. 

You came with Sound ---

With an old, dusty piece of map on hand,
Blocking my view of the forest clearing.
Said there's a pretty Lake into the woods;
Will take us quite a while, but we'll get there.

I sat in Stillness ---

Said I was not a bit interested,
But later changed my "no" to a "maybe."
Noticing this tiny little speck of chance,
You stooped down and whispered "I got you." 

We raced against Permanence ---

Into the woods, amidst the towering Trees
That watched every single move that we took.
Though it felt cold and grey as the now unseen skies,
Your hands were there to keep me warm.

II.

So we walked and ran and paced,
As far as our legs can take us. 
We breathed, breathed, and breathed,
As deep as our lungs can take in.

By the smell of wind blowing on my face
I could tell the Lake's within arms' reach now.
I smiled and looked back, but you seem to have stopped.
"Is anything wrong? Are you scared? Or just tired?"

I rummaged for medicines, but I have none.
I scrabbled about for water, and I have none either.
How could I tell you that I can give you nothing?
Nothing --- that was everything I ever had. 

III.

We sat in Silence, wishing tomorrow will be as beautiful as yesterday.
We sat Still, like water, on that Lake that we can't reach.
But can't we? Or we cannot just yet? 

I leaned on you and listened to the Sound,
of your tired and cold hands reaching out to rest on mine.
Let's just sit and wait until we can go on with our Story, together. #

Saturday, January 23, 2016

BURDEN OF PROOF




"And Mom, Jamie's a girl." Again. That's always where our conversations boil down to --- me having to clarify to her that the person I have been chatting with, talking to on the phone for hours, and planning to meet up that weekend is actually a girl. I don't really like having to explain myself and what I do to other people, including my Mom. But what choice do I have? If I don't, next thing I know's that she'd be cross examining my younger sister asking if I've been sharing secret crushes with her during our midnight gossips, working so hard to probe evidence to pin me on the cherry of the dartboard. Especially if the names she's been hearing from me lately sounds suspicious enough to be a guy. Like Kris or Andy. Or Jamie. Seriously, she really should have finished law school and not settled to be a plain housewife after marrying dad and having us. She would have made a great lawyer. I bet she can win a hundred percent of all annulment cases, including her own.

"I'm not even asking." That would always be her defense. I can sense she was trying to keep her eyes off mine as she looked straight down the table, perfectly julienning those poor little baby carrots. I actually have no idea how it became a full-blown discussion since I just popped out in front of her in the kitchen to ask if I could borrow her Mondeo to meet Jamie in Ortigas that afternoon. Since I got back from this children's storybook writing competition in Vegas the other week I haven't had time to have my Cortina overhauled after floodwater seeped in during a huge storm while I was away. Still annoys me to think how apathetic my elder brother could be. I called him from overseas several times that day to make sure he'll move my car to the elevated part of the garage. He said he will, but after a few hours I got a text message --- "Sorry sis, bed weather." Wow. At least he was considerate enough to update me that my car's totally useless now. On a lighter note though, had it not been for him, I would not have been inspired to write about the struggle of a little boy growing up with Asperger's syndrome in a rather dysfunctional family as my final story line. It won first prize. The judges said it was a "rare, representational piece".

"When are you going to start dating, honey?" She started doing her direct examination. She'd be telling me I'd be turning 30 next year, that she understands if I am now in a mindset of not getting married because of her feminist influences raising the three of us alone, but that she and dad have a different story and perhaps I can still consider starting a family of my own someday. I don't really mind answering the same questions over and over. In fact I love it when these discussions come up, because I can finally take part in her forensic games. Best part would be when I get her to suddenly be the defendant and narrate to me to the last detail, sometimes excruciatingly, how she met dad in law school, how they fell in love, got married, and how she eventually found out about his other family. It makes me guilty sometimes, but I feel relieved whenever she would end up with just conceding to my decision to not date guys just yet.

"Say hi to your friend for me," Mom yelled as I started the car. I saw her waving goodbye from the rear-view mirror and felt another tinge of guilt for a second. Though single-handed, Mom did a pretty good job at raising us, no doubt about it. But for some reason, even if we constantly have those conversations in the kitchen, I never really told her about me or what I do, or why I do what I do. Could it be the reason why she keeps on playing her forensic games on me? I have no idea. As I stepped on the accelerator, I thought to myself how different this morning's conversation could have been had I played my role as the daughter, and not the defendant. Mom, Jamie's a girl. Yes, she's also a freelance writer. Well it's legal all over the US now. Do you think Vegas would be a nice place for us to start together? #

Sunday, January 10, 2016

PACES (A Short Short Story)

It was a lazy Tuesday afternoon. At least for me, it felt like a Tuesday. One of those Tuesdays. The sun was struggling to stay up, but dusk was already pushing its way over the orange horizon. I could see its majestic red rays peep from the gray clouds above the city skyline. I look back inside the room where I was sitting on my working desk, anxiously waiting for 5 o'clock. There you are, seated across where I am, busily writing something with your fountain pen on sheets of loose white paper. Your forehead almost kissing the ink, I could see from behind your rimless glasses that your eyes were glinting with whatever you were writing. Or were you sketching? I didn't really bother. I wanted to offer to turn the room lights on for you since you looked really pathetic while forcing each blot on the now messy canvas. But I didn't. I just wanted the darkness to force you in turn to finally stand up and tell me you've had enough. For the day, at least. I don't even know why I'm waiting for you, aside from the fact that it's only the two of us left in that cramped office, aside from the decade-old tables and dust-covered swivel chairs. Always been the case --- we go home later than the others do. But for some reason, I've always looked forward to get off at 5 o'clock with you.

It was still sunnier from outside the building than I thought. In the city where we live and work, there aren't really much residents, and walking to and from our apartments was more of a given rather than a choice. That afternoon was perfect for a slow walk. As we started heading right along the pavement, I could see a lot of people were still strolling around. The minute we crossed the street, you stepped forward to get ahead from where I was standing. You looked back at me with an almost inconspicuous smile and asked, "Tara?" I just hate it when you do that. Not your smile of course, but the fact that I know that it simply means you're inviting me to hurry up and jog our way to the streets before the gray skies totally consume the red lights of the skyline. I didn’t tell you of course, but you just spoiled my walk-in-the-park dream that afternoon. But I am powerless. All I know is that your energy's inevitably viral that when you start running, I end up just running too --- even though I always fear my heartbeat's going to suffer at some point. I let our distance widen by a few meters. It is just then that I noticed you actually looked prettier than usual that day --- your short hair let down, resting on the plain white sleeveless knee-length dress, in full contrast against your favorite dirty black Chucks. I have always envied your sense of style. How can you wear something like that with such effortless confidence? "Artist ka nga," I smilingly thought to myself. To put a halt to my envious admiration I just tried to run faster to close our gap.

As soon as I caught up with your pace, tremendously catching my breath by the way, you abruptly stopped and picked up your phone from the right pocket of your white dress. I never got used to listening to people's conversations over the phone so I brought my eyes to linger on top of the buildings, watching the city birds do their last V-shaped formation above us before calling it a day. Slipping back your phone inside your pocket, you just said "Si Sharon. I have to go." Oh, Sharon. I thought to myself. Sharon also worked in the same company where we used to. I met her two years before we actually met, remember? Without even looking at me, you started heading forward. Actually, you started running. Again. But I didn’t ask why --- and you didn’t stop me from following you either. We ran at a pace that has always been familiar to us, racing against the last drops of red shimmers across the gray skies. I don't even know where we're running to, but all I know is that we're not going back. At the sound of every hurried step that we took against the concrete pavement, we just know. #



Friday, January 1, 2016

ARRHYTHMIA II

Isang daan lang daw kada minuto.
Isang daang tibok. Pintig. Sikdo.
Sinubukan kong damhin sa aking mga daliri.
Bakit ang sa aki'y tila higit na mas marami?

Pakiusap, huminahon ka na.
Wala namang sayong nakikipagkarera.
Kahit ga'no kabilis ang iyong kumpas
Di ka makalalabas sa munti mong rehas.

Matagal-tagal ka ring hindi nagpadama.
Buwan o taon - ang huli'y kailan nga ba?
Para bumangon ang isang masidhing agam-agam,
Isang gabi lang ang aking kinailangan.

Isang gabing inilarawan ng kanyang tinig.
Kalmado, malamlam, nababalot ng lamig.
Kung paano nahulog ang buwan mula sa langit,
At nag-iwan kinabukasan ng isang mahabang guhit.

Sana ba'y 'di ko na lamang inusisa?
Ngunit ako rin para sa kanya'y balisa.
Sana ba'y hindi ko na lamang nabatid?
Kamangmangan ko'y walang buting maihahatid. 

Lunes -
Para sa kanya,
Marahil isa na naman lamang
Pangkaraniwan at nakaririmarim na Lunes.

Subalit,
Ang hilahil na ito'y
Habambuhay kong papasanin
Sa hudyat ng pagsisimula ng kanyang Lunes.

Isang pangakong pilit kong ipinabitiw.
Mga himig at salitang pilit pinagsasaliw.
Sakaling makatanggap ng di inaasahang tawag
Ako ba'y matutuwa o higit na mababagabag?

Hihinto nang tuluyan ang iyong pagpintig
Dahil sa kabilang linya'y di marinig ang kanyang tinig.
Subalit ang tawag niya'y hudyat sa akin ng kamalayan, ng kalayaan.
At ikaw, puso ko, ay titibok, at titigil na sa isang daan, #