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? #