BONI

"Kuya, dalawa pong Cubao."

"Huy, ano ka ba?"

"Bakit, tama naman 'di ba? Cubao ka rin bababa?"

"Oo, pero di naman ako nagpapalibre."

"Bakit, kailangan ko magpaalam?"

"Eh kanina ka pa sa tricycle eh..."

"Walang pakialamanan. Saan ka nga ulit umuuwi?"

I met her in the Fall of 2010 back when I was one of the few new employees in a small office on the other side of Boni. I don't actually recall the first time I saw her, and I honestly can't remember her from the tide of faces I have been introduced to on my first day of work. But I do see her every morning jump from the IT Department, to Accounting, to Marketing, then to Admin. I have no idea what she does but she seemed to be well acquainted with everybody. I, however, am not someone who would hang out and smoke cigarettes on coffee breaks to hear the latest gossip. I'd rather sleep most of my lunch breaks, if possible.

The nature of our jobs are very different, but we happened to take the same route going home. Since I'm quite allergic to crowds and small talk, I let the wave of 'honda' employees finish their time-out before I punch mine. Why rush? Everybody's going to get stuck in traffic anyway. I see her standing outside of the gate sometimes waiting for people who would take the tricycle with her going to EDSA. Unfortunately, I was the victim that evening and was even forced to take the same bus ride too. I didn't want to embarrass her so I just said okay. That was the first time we actually "talked." It was so traumatic that I could not ride buses today without remembering that first encounter. 

"Gusto ko yung pangalan mo. Hindi maintindihan kung panlalaki o pambabae. Astig."

"Ayoko ng second name ko though."

"As if naman mapapalitan mo pa. Pwede pero magastos. Tsaka hindi naman degrading. Anyway, 'di ka naman nabuburyong sa trabaho mo?" 

"Okay pa naman. Bakit?" 

"Wala lang. Feeling ko lang ikaw yung tipong mabo-bore sa corporate eh. Second job mo na 'to diba?"

"Yup."

"'Yup.' Tipid neto sumagot. Matulog ka na nga."

"Hindi naman ako inaantok."

"Magpanggap ka na lang. 'Pag di ka natulog marami pa 'kong itatanong."

"Go lang."

"Nakabasa ka na ng Khaled Hosseini?"

That was the day I managed to gracefully tell her not to pay for my fare, as usually she would strongly insist despite my protests. I thought blood would spill all over, but she peacefully obliged. I paid for hers instead to return the favor somehow. By the way she shyly smiled and thanked me, I could see she's not used to someone doing favors for or treating her. I don't think nobody offers, but maybe because she can just be a little too domineering most of the time. She'd take the wheel when she can. It didn't help that I was a year younger too.

She's already been in that company for two years when I came in. Her CV was quite decorated for a fresh grad, so I don't know why she chose a relatively small and unknown company for a first job (and actually stayed) when she could have taken better offers. I never dared to ask, but I know she has her reasons. I'd say I know, because after a few chance tricycle and bus rides together I began to realize she can actually make a lot of sense. Yet I don't understand why she asks me too many personal questions. I'm not anybody who's interesting at all. All of these thoughts came hurling in my mind as she enthusiastically rendered her review of Hosseini's "A Thousand Splendid Suns", from a feminist point-of-view.

After a couple more months, the chance rides suddenly ceased. I never saw her again standing outside the gate in the evenings. I tried getting in queue ahead of other employees at the time-keeping machine just to see if she's going home earlier than usual. She's not, and she doesn't seem to be rendering OT either. I would purposely stay long at the terminal on mornings but no sight of her still. I would see her every now and then in the office, but coming up to her to casually ask her "what's up?" was not something I was comfortable doing. I couldn't. I just couldn't. I just gave up. 

Early one Wednesday morning, someone from her department came knocking in our room. "Hey, sino gusto sumulat ng farewell note? Last day niya this Friday. Tago niyo ah, surprise dapat yan. Balikan ko mamayang lunch. Or basta before Friday. Thanks!" Before we could even ask who was leaving, she was already heading to the Sales room beside ours. Inside the brown envelope that was handed to me were colorful pieces of square-cut construction paper. Farewell notes and scrapbooks are the signature tokens there for people who are resigning. That time, however, I was surprised to see her name written outside the envelope. So she's leaving, I told myself. I took a green one and placed it under my mouse pad so I won't forget. I tried thinking of what to write the whole day. I regret knowing that she's leaving, and at the same time I felt a little tinge of guilt thinking about how I've been trying to avoid talking to her over the past few months. Is this the best time to apologize? What can I say when I couldn't explain it to myself either? What if she didn't even notice anyway? I thought, and overthought. Friday came. I never handed the paper. For the second time, I just gave up. 

"One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs

And the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls"

Being brave is a process. I'll see you outside Kabul, Tariq.

Laila

I read the short note over and over to make sure it was indeed for me. I called the guard at the gate. "Kuya, sure kang para sa 'kin 'tong package?" I asked, wondering if she just made a mistake. "Yes po, kumpleto naman pong pangalan yung nakalagay." I did not argue further. I know it was for me because inside the package was a paperback copy of Hosseini's "A Thousand Splendid Suns". It's just that, my name is not 'Tariq,' hers is not 'Laila,' and we are neither in Kabul. When I read the novel that evening, it was then that I realized that the letter was an encrypted message that she wanted me to decipher. I hurriedly rummaged for the DHL packaging that contained the book, where I know I'd find her return address. Perhaps that's the address of her new office. I feel stupid because I can just send her a message on Facebook, but I'm not brave enough to do that. At least not yet. But what I do know is that this time, I'm not giving up on her. #

OHNE DICH

Meine liebe Freundin,

ich konnte nicht glauben, dass ich in einer Sprache schreibe, die dir und mir nicht vertraut ist. Aber ich habe kein wahl. Ich weiß nicht mehr, wie ich das sagen soll. Vergib mir. Ich was zu sagen immer nicht wissen. Immer.

Jetzt höre ich Lieder, die die Schwere in mir wegnehmen können. Ich kann nicht in der Stille denken. Es ist zu laut. Es taubt mich und bricht mich in eine millione Stücke. Nee, nicht in millionen, weil das zu viele ist. Vielleicht nur in tausende. Oder in hunderte. Oder nur in zwei. Ich kann nur in Teile brechen, die ich weiß --- ein Teil mit dir und ein Teil ohne dich.

Vergib mir. Ich war machtlos in einer Welt, in der ich noch nie mal. Ich habe keine Stimme in einer Schlacht, die ich nie versucht habe zu kämpfen. Vergib mir. Ich weiß nicht, was zu tun. Ich war unempfindlich. Ich war selbstsüchtig. Ich habe nie Zeit verbracht zu verstehen, was du meinst. Ich habe nur an mich, mich und mich gedacht. Ich kann nichts mehr fühlen. Es tut mir leid. Es tut mir sehr leid.

Aber ich will nicht traurig sein. Wir haben gute Zeiten verbracht. Wir haben zusammen gelacht. Wir haben uns zugehört. Wir waren schon an Orten. Wir waren für einander da. Ich werde mich nur an die guten Zeiten erinnern. Ich hoffe, dass du glücklich gewesen hast, auch nur einmal. 

Diese ist nicht auf Wiedersehen. Ich war und werde immer für dich da sein, und ich kann niemals auf Wiedersehen sagen. Vielleicht nur gute Nacht. Und Pass auf Dich auf. Und ich werde auf Ihre Antwort warten. Bis ich sterbe.

Immer mit Liebe,

xxx

P.S. Google Übersetzer sucks. Bitte vergib es auch.

NOODLES VS NUGGETS

The average Filipino household today still consists of young adults, if any, living with their parents. Typically, children don't leave the household unless they get married or find work that calls for relocation. With marriage statistics getting less and less in the last decade, this has all the more held true. There's also a segment called "boomerang" kids, or those who return home after having left. Reasons vary greatly but for most Filipinos, tradition simply holds.

Being away from home for more than a year now has been a tough ride. Someone up there heard my introvert prayers and granted me a single-apartment type room in the student dormitories when I first came in. It was just a walk away from the university, and I had the small kitchen all to myself. I don't have a car, of course, and most of my food shopping would be just by foot since transportation is not exactly cheap. I can if I opt to, but seriously, I would not spend 2 Euros for a 2-km ride. Social conditions are not perfect, and the student dorms only granted us non-Europeans a one-year contract --- we had to search for housing in the private market once that gets terminated in the summer. I had all the factors leading to a bumpy search for housing --- I'm a non-white student who comes from a developing country and who doesn't speak very good (not even good) German. Even the locals here compete for a decent private housing that would not cut their budgets largely. Not only once did I bid against locals and of course, we all know who got the deal. And the university did not help at all either. Angels are all over, however. I was able to move to a town about 11 kilometers away from the university, which is basically the stretch from Pasig to Pasay City. I obviously need to take buses now, and I need to wake up earlier and earlier as, similar to the worsening traffic in Metro Manila, the jam has been worsening in the highways too. Sometimes, buses don't come at all. When they declare a transport strike here, lines really get paralyzed. The weather sucks of course. Nobody ever gets used to winter, not even the natives (that's probably parallel to us never getting used to hot summers too). Budgeting is a challenge because of high rents and transportation costs. Food prices are surprisingly the same with Manila in general, which hurts me. Imagine we pay the same price as a developed country when our wages are f*cked up? But I must say that for someone who has never been away from home ever in her life, it's not exactly the budgeting nor the social conditions that has been most challenging for me --- it's taking care of myself.

I may be emotional at times, but I'm not the homesick-y type of person. I'm not a princess, either. I can cook (something edible, at least lol) and I know my way around house chores too (though I would give the crown to a good friend who's like the queen of dish-washing and house chores 😁). The problem is, I have been with my family quite too long that in my mind, the only time I would do all these things is when I will do it for them. Or for other people. It's not a bad thing per se, but in my case I just cannot do it when I know I'm not doing it for someone else. Yes, even cooking. A few months after overcoming the first hurdles, it has become a big deal for me to feed myself that I sometimes just did not eat at all. My psychological state went pretty bad, and academic pressure just worsened things. A lot of you would probably advise, just buy instant noodles or a take-away! Well, my strict adherence to the diet that I have been used to was another thing. I can NOT just eat anything, any processed thing, that I'd rather just not eat at all! Some might suggest, invite friends over and cook lunch together! Well, sometimes people drain the hell out of me so I fear that instead of eating lunch with them, I might end up eating them instead. Obviously, my bad choices recoiled. I developed a condition that is just one strand away from ulcer. That was the time I told myself, no, this is enough.

It was only then that I understood what "charity begins at home," in its most nuclear sense, really meant. Some people say that self-love is appreciating yourself more often, knowing your worth, acknowledging your strengths and working on your weaknesses, buying yourself some nice stuff from time to time, and rewarding yourself for your accomplishments. But for me, it probably goes several steps further back. It's nice to do things for other people, but I had to remind myself that I am as important as they are. As the Buddha said, compassion includes the self. For how can we actually consider other people's welfare when we are weak and literally dying? The thing is, you have to be stronger than your mind. It's so easy and convenient to stay where it's comfortable, but really, comfort is a huge temptation. Every single time it crosses my mind to skip meals, I say no, I will make a nice and fresh meal for myself today. It sounds quite embarrassing to be writing about all this, telling the world that I'm only realizing a fundamental lesson very late in life. But I guess I've also stopped thinking about what the world would say anyway.

Today, I have turned cooking from an obligatory task to more of a creative diversion. I rarely struggle now with the choice between cooking for myself or not. The struggle now is planning my meals in the most cost- and time-efficient ways, a task which a good friend back home helps me with. Perhaps it's preparing me to run a household in the future? 😆 Whatever it is, I'm just glad to have one big monkey off my back now. #

Hand-made chicken nuggets for lunch today. 

Not so healthy as it's fried, but it's fresh 

and preservative-free!

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. 😤 #

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.

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

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. #

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. #

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? #