ODE TO THE WAS

Weekends.
No phone call? That's odd.
No shipment? That sucks.

Monday.
How EDSA ate my week.
Traffic. Bad? Nothing new.
Staring out the window,
Billboard-watching, thinking,
"That could have looked better if..."
Pioneers to the human U-turn.
Riding that two-stroked engine,
Nothing but irritating.
But back-ride? A lowly adventure.
Roads and slopes in this familiar dwelling.
Getting off the boundary.
Big gate. Small gate.
Side mirror hits the wall.
What big trucks.
Inside, walk with care.
Silence. Darkness. Solitude.
Productivity.

Tuesday.
Repeat lines above.
Except, with friends around.
First batch, second batch.
Someone should be left behind.
Four PM. Canteen?
3-in-1 coffee. Need water.
Fountain-temperature.
Cold. Diluted.
Second-hand smoke.
Conversations.
Real conversations.

Wednesday.
Floor plan, wall paint, lighting.
Fabrics. Wood samples.
Colors, drapes, finish.
Re-order. Re-order. Re-order.

Thursday.
Order.

Friday.
PC? Greenbelt? Kapitolyo?
One rule no matter where:
Not more than one bottle.
Of soda. And of course,
Tales. Of the crypt.

Busy mornings.
Panic afternoons.
Tiresome evenings.
Still, there's life after the day.

The real, the ifs, the dreams ---
How I miss them, but then,
It is not here, not now.
It is there. And now, Was.

Three years.
Homecoming.
Real.
Soon. #

ALL I WANTED WAS A BEETLE AND A DOG

Walking sure does give people substantial amount of time to contemplate on things, especially if a lot is going on in their lives. Imagine having to enjoy the gentle breeze amidst the light sun rays hitting your hardened skin on a Saturday morning. Really priceless.

After a masochistic attempt to try rounds of suicides in a lonely, lonely basketball court this morning (not the literal "suicide" but that routine of running back and forth in increasing distances across the court to enhance agility. obviously a failed attempt for me), I decided to walk farther than my usual route around the village. In case you're wondering, I enjoy looking at nicely architectured houses and people's usual routines on a Saturday morning. Yep, I'm that shallow.

So I happened to pass by this brick-roofed little white house inspired by the American suburbs of the 90's. It has good space, enough for a simple garden and a walkway for the dogs to run around, and an underground garage good for one car. Small veranda on the right wing, not big enough for a nook but just for a good morning view. A tall window on the left and the main door at the center of the structure made it all the more just basic yet classy. I wanted to do a sketch but didn't want to look like an akyat-bahay or something. :D

I continued with the walking trip and this shiny turquoise car parked along the sidewalk caught me. It was a Volkswagen Beetle, not the latest release but the Type 1 1950's model with the famous chug-a-lug sound on the road. I stopped not because it was shiny or something, but because I thought about my old dreams. Yep, good old dreams that were apparently replaced by some Lord-knows-where-they-came-from aspirations.

During my younger years, life was pretty simple. All I wanted was to retire from a teaching stint in a little white brick-roofed house, with a yellow Volks Type 1, and a giant St. Bernard to take care of. But along the years, you get a job, go to places, meet new people, and you realize you wanted more. Now I want to get a house in the mountains aside from one in the city, and thinking of having a family of my own. And I asked myself, was that me, or just me being a product of several influences?

When I saw that Beetle, I wanted to re-assess everything. What is it that's really more important? What is it that I really want? Honestly I thought I was immune from worldly influences. But despite being a freak, I'm human after all.

Life, as they say, is simple and only humans make it complicated. As a believer in the subliminal theory (that's just a term I invented, by the way, so please don't quote me) wherein one physical thing equally stands for something abstract, I fail to understand where the simpleness of living this life is. Maybe over the years I'll understand. But for the meantime, I'd like to believe God's telling me something when He parked that turquoise runabout along the paths I would walk. #

SANA KATULAD PA RIN NG DATI

"Nung estudyante pa 'ko parang ang dali-dali lang ng buhay."
"Sa dati kong trabaho mas masaya ako sa ginagawa ko at sa barkada ko."
"Nung kami pa nung ex ko mas nakikita ko yung kahulugan ng buhay ko."

Hindi ba pwedeng bumalik na lang lahat sa dati?

Simple lang naman ang sagot. Nakaraaan na nga e. Ang mga tao, pangyayari, o bagay na dumadaan sa buhay natin, meron lang isang silbi o purpose sa isang pinili at pambihirang pagkakataon. Sa ayaw mo man o sa gusto, darating tayong lahat sa puntong kailangang tanggapin ang hangganan ng ugnayan natin sa mga 'to.

Hindi ko maitatangging hindi madaling dumating sa tinatawag nating point of acceptance. Nung bata ako ayaw na ayaw ko ng pagbabago. Umiinit talaga yung ulo ko at naaapektuhan yung ibang aspeto ng buhay ko. Nung Grade 4 ako nakatikim ako ng unang line of 7 sa report card dahil lang lumipat kami ng tirahan. Mukhang ewan, di 'ba? Pero nagbabago ang panahon. Tumatanda tayo. At kasabay ng pagtanda, may mga pangyayaring nagmulat sa 'kin at tinulungan akong tanggapin na pagbabago lang ang hindi mababago sa buhay natin. Sa Inggles, 'the only permanent thing in this world is change.'

Paminsan-minsan tinatamaan pa rin naman ako ng pagkainis sa mga biglaang pagbabago at sa paghahanap ng mga bagay sa nakaraan o yung tinatawag nating nostalgia. Yun kasi yung madali e, yung nakasanayan ko na. Dun ako kumportable. Hindi ko naihanda yung sarili ko sa pagbabago. Hindi ko akalaing may pwede pa palang magbago. Minsan natatakot akong may mabago dahil takot akong hindi ko alam kung paano haharapin yun, o kung kakayanin ko bang mabuhay kasama yung pagbabago na yun.

Pero diba, wala namang isang araw na magkapareho? Araw-araw, gumigising tayo nang hindi naman talaga nalalaman kung anong pwede nating harapin sa loob ng 24 oras na yun. Pero sa dami ng panibagong 24 oras na binibigay sa 'yo sa loob ng 20 o 30 o 40 na taon, buhay ka pa rin naman hanggang ngayon diba? May mga pagkakataon lang na kailangan nating masaktan para matuto o maging mas malakas, dahil hinahanda tayong tanggapin at pahalagahan ang mga darating pang mas magaganda at malalaking pagkakataon sa buhay mo.

Hindi kita sisisihin kung ilang taon na kayong break ng ex mo at hindi ka pa rin handang buksan ulit ang puso mo. O kaya naman ilang taon ka nang lumipat ng trabaho at tinatanong mo pa rin sarili mo ba't mo ginagawa yung ginagawa mo ngayon. O kung ilang taon ka nang malayo sa isang lugar at nagagalit ka pa rin pag naaalala mo yung masasakit na pangyayari dun. Pero ikaw rin ang pipili kung hanggang saan at kailan mo gustong kaladkarin ang mga pambihirang pagkakataong matagal nang dapat natapos sa buhay mo.

At gusto kong tapusin 'to sa pagbabahagi ng isang pambihirang palitan ng linyang hinding hindi ko makalimutan sa isang pelikula ni Mike Sandejas, ang "Tulad ng Dati":

Teddy: "Anong gagawin mo pag may isang bagay na nawala?"
Jett: "Hahanapin."
Teddy:"Pag di mo mahanap?"
Jett: "Papalitan."
Teddy: "Pag di mo mapalitan?"
Jett: "Kakalimutan."
Teddy: "Pag di mo makalimutan?"
Jett: "Tatanggapin." #

WHAT SCARES YOU?

Kung bakit kasi naimbento ni Google yung Pageviews counter sa Blogspot. O kung bakit ba kasi naisip ng mga tao na bilangin yung mga bagay na hindi naman nasusukat dapat ng bilang in the first place.

Ngayong araw na 'to nagdesisyon akong hindi nako magpo-post ng status sa FB dahil hindi naman nakikita ng mga tao yung buong kwento sa isa o dalawang linyang sasabihin ko. At ayoko ring sukatin ang effectivity ng mensahe ko sa pamamagitan ng bilang ng "Likes" dito. 

"Good Will Hunting". This 1997 movie classic which won then amateurs Matt Damon and Ben Affleck an Oscars for Screenplay never fails to make get me thinking, "What am I afraid of?" It's an easy question, but not for me. I'm not afraid of heights, of animals, of solitude, or of failure. I'm not even afraid to die, honestly speaking. But now that the question has come up once again, I think I know the answer --- I'm afraid I'm not recognizing my fears enough to push me to jump off the edge.

I started writing years and years back. Not professionally, but just a means to keep me sane. And I always thought, I should be responsible for every word I say. I don't exactly believe I can incite anybody to sedition, or invoke someone to quit her job just because of my "advise". But I wanna be on the safe side and filter. I filter every single sentence, phrase, or word that's being written down, to the point of what one of my colleagues tell me, being "cryptic". That's why I never called myself a writer. I was presenting you labyrinths, sometimes not being able to get to a clear point in the end. And sometimes, I fail to write a whole piece altogether just because I'm afraid the mere topic can taint my reputation somewhere. Or that my office management's going to judge me for whatever personal opinion I express. You see, the complication scares me, leading me to paranoid censorship, that's equally comparable to stealing away some truth. And to that, my friends, I greatly apologize.

I want to get to the point where the only holds that will bar me is that of true censorship (you know, sensitive subjects that aren't really to be discussed in public, as ethics would put it), and of course anything that can put me behind bars for libel. But right now, the fear is simply being fed by a number of complications --- personal matters that hinder people to pursue the very thing that they believe will make their lives more miserable, but more filled to the brim.

But whether or not I get to the point doesn't matter now. I remember one line from a Baz Luhrman re-mix back in 1998 --- "Do one thing everyday that scares you." You'll perhaps run out of things that will scare you eventually (imagine 365 things you are scared of in one year? not practical). Maybe it's more on using every single day to overcome that one thing that scares you. After which, let's find something else that will scare us. How'd you like that? #

I CAN ONLY GO SO FAR

It was 3am and I'm still up posting some drainage-worthy phrases only I can understand.

The past weeks for me have been way crazy. I felt like I was standing, no, crouching, on some kind of plane that's unstable, flat yet paperweight that it wobbles with a mere gasp of breath. Or probably a sigh. So the going-away-to-a-faraway-place was the exact drama I know I needed.

Every time I go somewhere I look forward to bringing even a single realization or a new inspiration. Baguio's six-hour bus ride from Manila assured me it was a pretty far place where I'm safe to believe it would free me to think of anything that will eventually contribute to a sudden snap (in Tagalog, mapatid ang utak). Not exactly my first time, so not excited for anything but the mere fact that I was far up in the mountains past the woods. You know, heights are not exactly the best standpoint, but the detachment gives you a decent view of the good and the bad in your own little jungle. Looking down the view from a little place down Session Road, you can see both darkness and light. I can describe it this way:

"The blackness stand out amid the hundreds of tiny domestic lights that are almost equidistant."

But I can also say it this way:

"The blackness of the mountain appears almost unnoticeable as the little colorful lights dance behind the fog across the horizon."

You see, sometimes all you can see inside your own rut is the mere rut. There will be days that shake your faith --- and by "faith" I don't necessarily pertain to anything religious, but the mere general belief that the structure of things in your life is actually going in a straight direction. But it won't. Otherwise it could all have been a pathetically boring life for everybody. And the solution's pretty much to go on and play the Jumanji (you know, the game you can't quit and the only way out is to finish it). The blows will hurt, but the only way to finish better is to see things differently.

One thing you'll always have to go against is other people's incorrect notion of you. You see, people have the tendency to stereotype some people and believe perspectives can change overnight coming off from out of town and gaining some much needed recharge. That's not true all the time, because for one, I have just started to rummage on my own mess when I got back. And going away can bring forth two things --- either a stereotyped "recharge" (which to me is temporary and more artificial) or a new-found inquisition on things. I can be misinterpreted pretty badly here, I know, but I think all this craziness is just one thing I lost and have unexpectedly recovered from the mountains.

We are all entitled to our own ways and means of craziness. Reasonable craziness, that is. And when I say "reasonable," I mean leaving some things behind to chase what can ultimately make you live free. A lot of things hold us up today, and I dare say most of these are literally THINGS, material possessions that have become nothing but status symbols. And it pains me to see people living in the "means" of living --- that is, being held up on earning money for the sake of getting hold of something physical.

I know it's crazy to think that chasing happiness will feed me. But if I know I won't live long enough, I'd rather go on living chasing something people will not be able to buy from anywhere, not even from me. This mere craziness is what feeds me. I can choose to stop and lessen the complication, eat three times a day without a bother, but this craziness rides me all the way to the end of my Jumanji.

To flee from that painful situation by detaching yourself to the world, physically or just mentally, and try to divert to temporarily forget --- it can be intentional, but it can also be not. But whether or not what happens to us is chance, it all happens at the right time. And because life speaks to us in great and mysterious ways, you're just so unlucky if you won't notice. It's okay to detach. But be sure to be back with a vengeance. #

AFTER SPRING

Ephemeral.
Greens become auburn in the turn of day.
Not one more drop is enough
to keep your bloom like before.
Spring. Fleeting.
I could not recall.

Ethereal.
Stars are unmoved with the gentlest waft.
Blow me a whistle,
if whistles are not mockeries.
A stroke. A stir.
I can barely feel.

Elemental.
Sweet-smelling chlorine turns toxic to clean.
Douse your feet in the cold,
dancing stream.
Tingling. Scorching.
I stay submerged.

Sentimental.
Your warmth speaks to me like ten years past.
The glorious rays race down
where dewdrops cease to dwell.
Parched. Poignant.
It makes me think of home.

Eternal.
Days spent on sleepless attempts to sleep.
But I shall stay unfazed,
until the monsoon reaches east.
A chance. A gap.
I'll be waiting for June. #

wallpapers free-review

ELEKSYON JUNKIES. LITERAL.

Tinanong ako nung ka-opisina ko nung isang araw. Papasok ka ba sa May 13? Sabi ko, "Oo. Bakit, anong meron?" Sabi niya, "Eleksyon." Ay putek. Oo nga 'no. Bilang isang taong nagsusulong ng pagpapalawig ng kamalayan sa nagaganap sa lipunan, nahiya ako dahil nakalimutan kong petsa nga pala yun ng eleksyon. Pero matapos ang ilang segundo, keber. "Pasok ako. Boycott naman ako eh."

Ok so sa'n naman nanggaling na bigla akong nag-boycott? Dahil nakakasuka yung mga harlem shake version ng kung sinu-sinong pulitiko sa plaza na "nangangampanya" kuno? Dahil nakakairita yung gimik ni Chiz at Heart sa telebisyon? Dahil naglipana na naman ang lumang tugtugin ng mga trapong nakakaloka dahil mula Grade 1 ka sila na yung inabutan mong tumatakbo sa Senado? O dahil nakakaloka dahil sa kabila ng lahat ng 'to, sumasabay pa si Kris Aquino?

Answer: All of the Above.

Sabi nila, yung idealismo raw ng kabataan nawawala rin yan sa paglaon ng panahon. Sabi ko, "Hindi, pag namulat ka sa tamang laban, hinding hindi yan mawawala sa 'yo." Ang yabang ko pa eh. Pero dala na rin siguro ng edad at karanasan, hindi mo pala talaga maiiwasang maging cynic na rin sa mga ganitong bagay habang tumatakbo ang panahon.

Siguro nga dahil ganoon --- tumatakbo ang panahon, pero wala namang masyadong pinapagbago ang mga tao:
- Sa mga tumatakbo, first name lang ang napapalitan pero ang apelyido, pare-pareho. Binay, Aquino, Ejercito, Angara, Abalos, Eusebio, et cetera et cetera. Yung totoo? Monarchy na ba tayo?
- Sa mga tumatakbo, pag nangampanya sa pamamagitan ng debate, ikaw pa yung talo. Yung nag-Gang Nam Style, yun yung malamang panalo.
- Sa mga tumatakbo, palakasan lang ng trip. Sa balota, makikita mo: #32. Villar, Cynthia Hanepbuhay. Yung totoo? Kelan pa naging "Hanepbuhay" ang middle name mo?

Sa totoo lang ipit ako sa gitna. Siyempre andito pa rin naman yung idealismo at pag-asang sa pamamagitan ng pagpapahayag ng boses sa pagboto, maaaring makapagdulot ng pagbabago, gaya ng pagkilos ng Yellow Army noong nakaraang eleksyon para iluklok si Noynoy. Kaso lang, kung mamumulat ka sa katotohanan, yung isang boto mong "matino," lalamunin ng sanlibong boto ng mga fans ni Escudero.

Sa'n nga ba kasi galing ang maling pagboto? Minsan kahit yung kaibigan kong akala ko deretso mag-isip, madaling naniniwala sa mga isyu sa telebisyon. Mahirap bang palalimin nang kaunti ang nakikita natin para isipin sandali kung ano ba ang intensyon ng isang kandidato sa pagtakbo? Kasalanan ba ng media, o kasalanan din natin dahil may utak naman tayo para di agad paniwalaan ang sinasabi ng media?

Marami naman kasi tayong source of information. Magbasa. Magmasid. Pumunta sa mga website tulad ng comelec.gov.ph at tignan ang sample ballots kaysa Facebook ka nang Facebook diyan. Ang hirap kasi sa karamihan sa 'tin, pag eleksyon lang nagiging Pilipino. Subukan kasi nating makialam paminsan-minsan, para naman pagdating ng eleksyon, hindi tayo nangangapa at nagpapaniwala sa gimik ng kung sinu-sinong kandidato. May isang buwan ka pa. Hindi pa naman talaga huli ang lahat. #

SISIKAT DIN AKO

Nung isang gabi nagkaroon ako ng pribilehiyong abutan ang nanay kong nanonood ng TV bandang 8:30 ng gabi. (Oo, pribilehiyo nang makauwi ako ng gano'ng oras kasi... wag mo nang itanong kung bakit) As usual nakatutok siya sa Net 25, isang channel na malamang nilalaktawan niyong lahat dahil hindi niyo naman makikita dun si Anne Curtis o si Marian Rivera pero paborito namin ni mommy yun kasi bukod sa walang commercial, e may saysay doon ang mga palabas. So inabutan ko siyang nanonood ng Sessions --- saktong tugtugan lang yun at yung episode pa nun ay si Marco Sison at Jaya ang kumakanta. Tahimik lang kaming nakikinig, ganyan, tapos bigla niya kong tinanong ng isang epic question:

"Kung papipiliin ka kung saan mo gustong sumikat, kahit ano ah, anong pipiliin mo?"

Sabi ko sa sarili ko "Tssss madali lang yan eh. Syemps gusto ko maging sikat na writer." Kaya lang nung sasabihin ko na sa kanya, parang napaisip ako. Parang mas masaya yata maging rakstar at mamaalam sa mundo ala-Jeff Buckley. O kaya maging astronaut ng NASA. Pero gusto ko talaga magsulat sa New York Times eh. O maging Pablo Neruda ng Pilipinas. So ang sabi ko sa kanya,

"Gusto ko maging sikat na pianista."

O 'di ba? Ni wala ka ngang formal lessons at paulit-ulit lang na Fur Elise ang alam mong tugtugin eh. Tsaka duh, wala kayang pera dun. Pero masarap mangarap. Ang sarap mangarap 'pag walang nakatingin. Pero pag meron na, naiiba na ang kwento.

Nung bata tayo lagi tayong tinatanong ni teacher kung ano ang ating pangarap. Wala tayong pakundangang sasagot ng "flight stewardess!", "doktor!", "scientist!", et cetera, et cetera. E nung tumatanda ka, napapagtanto mong sa mga pinangarap mo dati,

1 - wala pala akong perang pampaaral
2 - ayaw nina mama at papa
3 - hindi naman ako dun yayaman

Pinangarap kaya nina Beethoven, Bill Gates, at Van Gogh na sumikat? O yumaman? Siguro hindi. Siguro sinunod lang talaga nila yung puso nila at ginawa ang mahal nila kaya minahal din sila ng mundo.

So magshi-shift ba 'ko from Finance to Music? Sa huli, sabi ko lang kay ma, "Wala naman po akong pangarap sumikat eh." Boom. #

WANTED: TFC... Tutors for Christ

"EVERY Saturday morning for one school year?? There's no freaking way I'm gonna deprive myself of a good Friday night sleep!" Or so I thought. Two Saturdays from now, it's gonna be moving up day for the kids in Balanti Elementary school --- and we didn't even have to count how many good Friday night sleeps we had to miss just for this.

The Cornerstone Project of the CFC Singles for Christ has been around for a couple of years now. Volunteer teachers from across the different SFC and YFC chapters journey every Saturday morning to a chosen beneficiary school to teach needy kids how to read in basic English and values formation. This year, we've been blessed to be part of these kids' lives in Balanti Elementary School Unit 1 in Cainta, Rizal (just near the Katipunan-Sumulong border).


For the most part, joining this project will definitely open you up to the realities, sometimes harsh, of our current education system. When we first met the kids last August, a group of around 30+ aging 9 to 13 (but still in Grades 1-3 level), we were actually surprised that a lot of them can't even read "play" or "find." But their school teachers give them passing grades just for the heck of moving them to the next grade level. You could make them sing songs, listen to stories, and play games, but could be really inattentive, rowdy, and uncompromising if they want to. And some even go there just to get free food. So how do you even start teaching boring English lessons one on one to kids who you very well know need special attention?

But over time we realized this bunch was indeed special. A lot of them learn, thank God, though some also may not. And you don't know what's wrong. Ate Tina and Ate July are really hands on in providing assistance to us and we even had coaching sessions to understand and identify if our kids had learning disabilities, but sometimes we ask ourselves if we're actually being helpful to them. But what amazes me is not the fact that us volunteers are alive and made it through until Feb so far. It's the fact that every Saturday, these kids keep going back. They go through the hassle of a sixth day in class when they can just stay at home and play. They walk or spend on transpo just to go to school when we all know they're saving these up for more important days. And we see no other reason but the fact that these kids, who have been marked by their classmates as "bobo" or "inutil" --- they just have that drive to go back and learn. Now tell me, who should be ashamed?

I remember last December in one of our trainings when Kuya Paul (Halal) shared to us that he keeps these little bunch papers from way back his YFC days. Inserted in his Bible, these little risograph papers are written some kids' "dreams" --- maging jeepney driver, maging karpintero, et cetera, et cetera. This is his inspiration up to this day. We were all similarly touched by the fact that these kids have so much ahead of them, way beyond dreaming of becoming a jeepney driver or carpenter, only if they have access to good education. Our country is big, and we have thousands of children needing attention --- but we can definitely do something to build even just one dream for this country.


And so my brothers and sisters in faith we invite you all to join the Cornerstone project. You don't have to be a teacher or have an MA to be one. Next school year we're gonna be opening 2 or 3 schools for this, so our current numbers will definitely not be enough. March 1 will be a review session for final evaluation with the kids so you might want to feel how it's like to be immersed in time for next school year. :)


So if you want to know how Saturday mornings were possible for the volunteers who have crazy shift ours at work, it's pretty simple: God's grace. Let's all be witnesses to this budding hope and transformation. #

PS. Kudos to current volunteers from SSS Chapter: Ate Tina (Lead Tutor), Kuya Paul (Halal), Ate JC, Ate Ciela, Darmie, and Aira. You guys rock. :D

DOWN THE DRAIN

It all fell,

Not one broken piece left,

Down the drain;

Where perhaps

It shall inherit the dampness,

The coldness, and darkness

Of the unfamiliar dwelling.

Yet from Above,

A light shall seep through.

From the holes where they passed,

There it shall lapse,

Racing itself to give life

Where the broken pieces

Are once again made whole.

Down the drain.

Water.

Light.

Life.

It's time. #

photo taken from Karlsruhe, Baden, Germany