Paranoia atbp.

Hindi ako fan ni Angel Locsin pero inabangan ko ang Maalaala Mo Kaya kanina. Sa trailer pa lang, nakuha na ang atensiyon ko. Parang maganda ang istorya kaya't pagdating ko sa bahay galing sa eskwela, hindi ko na nakuhang magpalit pa ng damit pambahay dahil diretso na kong humarap sa telebisyon.

Napakaganda ng istorya idagdag pa ang galing sa pag-arte nina Angel at Dimples Romana. Pamilyar sa akin ang takbo ng istorya at parang nakikita ko sa papel na ginagampanan ni Angel ang sarili ko. Hindi ko masasabing matayog ang pangarap ko. Noong bata ako, hindi ko hinangad ang makapunta sa iba't ibang bansa, o yumaman. Sapat na sa akin ang magkaroon ng disenteng trabaho, ng sariling bahay at sasakyan. Basta ang importante, masaya at kumpleto ang aking pamilya. Iyon lang. Naalala ko pa nga, nasabi ko noon na ang pangarap ko'y maging isang 'katulong', isang 'kasambahay'. Bakit hindi? Sa tingin ko noon, parang napakadali lang ng trabaho nila-- nasa bahay lang, maglalaba, plantsa, luto, linis ng bahay. Noon iyon. Napakasimple lang ng pangarap ko. Iyon lang.

Pero nagbabago ang mga pangarap. Lalo na kung uhaw ka sa papuri ng isang magulang. Noon, malimit na napapalo ako sa sandok ng nanay ko dahil laging itlog ang nakukuha kong marka. Minsan, narinig ko rin ang isang guro kong nagsabing nasa kanya lahat ang mga 'bopol' niyang estudyante. Siyempre, estudyante niya ako kaya't kasama ako sa mga iyon.

Siguro, doon ako nag-umpisang mangarap. Sinimulan ko sa aking pag-aaral. Hindi ako maganda tulad ng ate ko kaya dinaan ko na lang sa utak. Hindi naman ako nabigo dahil kahit mahirap, ang minsang tinawag na 'bopol' ang nakapagtapos ng salutatorian noong elementary. At kahit sa high school, pinilit kong mapabilang sa 'star section'. Lahat ng iyon, ginawa ko para sa aking pangarap. Ang mapansin ng mga magulang ko at maipagmalaki.

Pero napakahirap pala. Mahirap iyong bukambibig nila na ikaw ang matalino, na ikaw ang may utak sa pamilya. Mahirap iyong naiiba ang pangarap mo dahil sa pangarap nila para sa iyo. Hindi ako naging masaya sa kolehiyo dahil pinilit kong bigyan ng medalya ang mga magulang ko.

Cum Laude. UST.

Hindi ko kailanman naisip na mararating ko iyon. Pero kung pwede lang ibalik ang karangalang iyon, kapalit ng isang maganda at kontentong buhay, noon ko pa sana ginawa iyon.

Mahirap ang mabuhay sa ekspektasyon ng iyong mga magulang. Mahirap pantayan ang inaasam nilang mararating mo sa buhay.

Nasaan ako ngayon?

Sa edad kong ito, masasabi kong wala pa akong nararating sa mga pangarap ko. Hindi garantiya na ang makatapos ka ng may bitbit ng medalya galing sa isang magandang unibersidad ay magtatagumpay ka na sa buhay.

Isa iyong malaking kalokohan. Palamuti lamang ang mga iyon.

Ang karakter ni Angel sa MMK kanina, isa syang UP graduate, Summa Cum Laude.

Pero narating ba niya ang kanyang mga pangarap? Hindi.

Nakalulungkot ang kinasadlakan niya. Walang trabahong tumanggap sa kanya sa kabila ng galing niya. Sa bandang huli, para lang masabi na may nangyari sa buhay niya, namasukan siya sa mga patay-sinding ilaw. Isa siyang taga-aliw. Pampalipas-oras.

Namatay ang tatay niyang hindi man lang niya nabigyan ng magandang buhay. Namatay ito nang hindi niya nararating ang kanyang mga pangarap. Hindi niya nakaya ang kabiguan. At ang ipinagmamalaki niyang talino'y dinala ng hangin, bitbit ang kanyang bait.

Sabi nila, nakababaliw daw ang kasobrahan sa talino ng isang tao.

Hindi ko sinasabing matalino ako. Pero natakot ako para sa sarili ko.

Ayokong matulad sa karakter ni Angel sa MMK.

Ayokong mabaliw dahil sa kabiguan. Gusto ko, maghirap man ako, naroroon pa rin sa akin ang paninindigan. At dignidad.

Minsan, gusto kong maniwala na ang tao ang gumagawa ng kanyang tadhana. Na nasa abilidad ng isang tao nakasalalay ang katuparan ng kanyang pangarap. Pero bakit ganoon? Minsan, ibuhos mo man ang lahat, kulang pa rin. Hindi kaya, traydor ang tadhana?

One Proud Sister

My sister came home rushing from the school, telling us the good news that she is now a scholar in La Consolacion College. She's an incoming fourth year high school next school year.

She is a certified varsity player now in Taekwondo. She actually represented their school last year in an interschool competition and won gold medal. She was promoted black belt also last year.

She looked even happier when she told us that her tuition fee she payed for the whole school year will be given back to her. And that was really awesome!

I know, she had made our parents very proud at the same time, the scholarship would mean very much to us and a very big help as well since we are all experiencing the 'global crisis'. At least, my parents wont worry about her tuition fee next school year.

Good work sis! We are very proud of you!

Isang Tulambuhay

Hindi niya kamukha
si Paraluman
Mata niya’y ‘di kasingbilog ng buwan
Ilong niya’y ‘di kataasan
Labi niya’y tila
malalaglag kapag kuwan
Ngiti niya’y tumatabingi kung minsan
Taas niya’y kalahati ng kawayan
Katawan niya’y walang kurbang masisilayan
Ngunit siya’y may angking kagandahan—
Gandang hindi mabubura ng katandaan.

Nang ipanganak ang Ate ko, kinuha na yata niya ang lahat ng magagandang pisikal na katangian ni Nanay at Tatay kaya pagdating sa akin, hindi na kataka-takang maubusan ako. Bilugang mata na kakulay ng bagong pitas na chico, may mahahabang pilik na animo palaging binabaluktot, ang tangos ng ilong ay parang nililok ng isang mahusay na iskulptor, ang mga labi’y maihahalintulad kay Monalisa kung ngumiti, idagdag pa na balingkinitan ang katawan niya— mga katangiang pinakyaw ng Ate ko.

Kung may estrangherong makakakita sa ‘ming magkasama, hindi nito aakalaing magkapatid kami. Ibang-iba ang itsura namin sa isa’t isa. Kabaligtaran ng kanya ang mga katangian ko. Siguro kung mayroon mang isang magandang katangiang masasabi kong taglay ko na wala siya, iyon ay ang mala-gatas kong puti. Pero sa dami nang naglipanang produktong pampaputi ngayon, hindi na ako magugulat kung isang araw ay magkasing-kulay na kami ni Ate. O baka mas maputi pa siya sa akin.

Hindi madaling lumaki na may kapatid na gaya niyang ubod ng ganda. Kumbaga sa tula, siya iyong tipong may sukat at tugma, pinag-isipang mabuti at ginawa nang buong husay at tiyaga. Samantalang kung lilimiin ko ang aking sarili, maihahambing ko ito sa isang malayang taludturan— tipong pwede na, kahit ano na lang.

Lumaki akong naririnig ang ilang kamag-anak namin na nagsasabing higit na maganda ang Ate ko kaysa sa ‘kin. Wala naman akong tutol do’n dahil iyon ang totoo. Iilang Santacruzan na ba ang nilahukan niya? Iilang titulo ng kagandahan na ba ang hinakot niya simula pagkabata? Ayos lang sa ‘kin ‘yon dahil kapatid ko naman siya. Pero kapag sinasabihan akong “maganda ka sana pero…napabayaan sa kusina” totoong naiinis ako. O mas tamang sumasama ang loob ko. Tipong gusto kong gamitin ang laki ng aking katawan para manahimik na lang sila. Iilan na rin ba ang nagbansag sa ‘kin ng dabyana, baboy, at tabachoy? Hindi ko na mabilang. Sa tuwing binibiro ako nang ganon, nakikitawa ako. Pero yung tawang hindi umaabot sa mata.

Kaya lang, iba pala kapag magulang mo na ang nasa usapan. Siguro talagang gano’n. Hindi maiiwasan ng isang magulang na may papaburan sa mga anak. Pilitin man niyang ikubli iyon o tahasan man niyang itangging wala siyang paborito, kita iyon sa mga kilos niya. Gaya ni Nanay. Sa tuwing galing ito sa palengke, hindi pwedeng wala siyang dalang kahit ano para sa Ate ko— blusang bagay sa kanya, paldang lalong magpapakita ng kanyang kurba o dili kaya’y bag na bagay na bagay ang istilo sa kanya. Kapag gano’n, tahimik lang naman akong nakamasid sa mga pinamili ni Nanay para sa kanya. Wala naman akong hilig sa mga gano’n o siguro dahil alam ko sa aking sariling hindi bagay sa akin ang mga iyon. Isang pirasong tsokolate o cheesebread lang naman ang habol ko kay Nanay. Minsan natatawa pa nga ako sa kanya kapag titingin siya sa akin at sasabihing “pasensiya ka na. Hindi kita nabili. Hindi ko kasi alam kung anong gusto mo”. Hindi ba’t totoo namang nakakatawa? Nanay ko siya pero hindi niya alam kung ano ang gusto’t ayaw ko? O siguro isang propaganda lang ang napapanood ko sa patalastas sa telebisyon na nagsasabing Mothers know best.

Hindi nga siguro talaga ako kilala ni Nanay. Naalala ko noong minsa’y bumili siya ng tela para sa aming dalawa ni Ate para ipatahing bestida. Magkaiba ang kulay pati ang disenyo. Ang isa’y mapusyaw na rosas ang kulay at may disenyong maliliit na puting bulaklak samantalang ang ikalawa’y kulay krema at may disenyong malalaking bulaklak na kulay pula. Para sa akin daw ang ikalawa na buong igting kong tinanggihan. Naalala ko, umiyak pa ‘ko noon at nagkulong sa kwarto. Ayoko ang telang binibigay sa akin ni Nanay. Para sa aki’y pangit iyon at masyadong magarbo ang disenyo. Mas gusto ko ‘yong kulay rosas dahil paborito ko ang kulay na ‘yon. Isa pa simple lang ang disenyo nito. Pero pilit na ipinagpipilitan ni Nanay na mas bagay sa ‘kin ang telang napili niya. Kalahating araw yata akong nagkulong sa kwarto. Lumabas lang ako nang sabihin ni Nanay na sa akin na ‘yong telang nagustuhan ko.

Nangarap din naman akong masali sa Santacruzan, maging musa sa eskwelahan, o kaya’y umakyat sa entablado habang inirarampa ang aking kagandahan. Kaya nga nang manalo ang Ate ko sa isang patimpalak, hindi ako nahiyang kunin ang takip ng aming telebisyon at ibinalabal sa aking katawan upang magmistulang aking gown. Pagkatapos ay hiniram ko sa kanya ang kanyang sash, bulaklak, at tropeo. Pakiramdam ko, daig ko pa ang kinoronahan. Sa katuwaan ni Nanay, kinuhanan niya ako ng larawan. Sa tuwing nakikita ko ang larawang iyon, hindi pwedeng hindi ako mapangiti. Taglay ng larawang iyon ang isang pangarap ng aking kamusmusan na hindi na kailanman magkakaron pa nang katuparan.

Hindi ko naman kayang ipaubaya ang aking mukha sa siyensiya. Kahit pa tila may mahika ang kamay ni doktora, mas nanaisin ko pa rin ang natural na ganda. Isa pa habang ako’y tumatanda, nalaman kong isang palamuti lang ang pisikal na ganda. Darating ang panahon na mawawala iyon gaya ng sariwang bulaklak na unti-unting nauubusan ng bango at nalalagas ang mga talulot nito.

May mga panahong umakyat din naman ako sa entablado. Hindi para koronahan kundi para bigyang pansin ang pagsisikap ko sa aking pag-aaral— isang kagandahang habang tumatagal ay lalong nahahasa.

Adding to Pablo Neruda's Odes to Common Things

As part of my revision process for my poems, Dr. Marj advised me to read Pablo Neruda's Odes to Common Things. I am actually more of the Imagist type but sometimes I tend to fall on my common mistake of making my metaphor illustrative, which weakens my poems. I find Neruda's book very useful and of big help in revising my poems. At the same time, I enjoyed reading it. I have this one favorite, "Ode to the Spoon".

Spoon,
scoop
formed
by man's
most ancient hand,
in your design
of metal or wood
we still see
the shape
of the first
palm
to which
water
imparted
coolness
and savage
blood,
the throb
of bonfires and the hunt.

Little
spoon
in an
infant's
tiny hand,
you raise
to his mouth
the earth's
most
ancient
kiss,
silent heritage
of the first water to sing
on lips that later lay
buried beneath the sand.

To this hollow space,
detached from the palm of our hand,
someone
added
a make-believe wooden
arm,
and
spoons
started turning up
all over the world
in ever
more
perfect
form,
spoons made for
moving
between bowl and ruby-red lips
or flying
from thin soups
to hungry men's careless mouths.

Yes,
spoon:
at mankind's side
you have climbed
mountains,
swept down rivers,
populated
ships and cities,
castles and kitchens:
but
the hard part
of your life's journey
is to plunge
into the poor man's plate,
and into his mouth.

And so the coming
of the new life
that,
fighting and singing,
we preach,
will be a coming of soup bowls,
a perfect panoply
of spoons.
An ocean of steam rising from pots
in a world
without hunger,
and a total mobilization of spoons,
will shed light where once was darkness
shining on plates spread all over the table
like contented flowers.

I was thinking, maybe I could add one on Neruda's odes. How about Ode to the Toothbrush?

Astrolohiya atbp.

Hindi ako makatulog kaninang madaling araw. Hindi rin naman ako makapagsulat. Ewan ko ba. Nagiging habit ko na yata ang magbuhay paniki-- gising sa gabi, tulog sa umaga. Nagsawa na ang tenga ko sa boses ni Lani Misalucha na paulit-ulit inaawit sa youtube ang 'Bukas Na Lang Kita Mamahalin'. Wala rin naman nabago sa Facebook ko. Pati ang Friendster ko, nabisita ko na rin. Pati na rin Friendster ng asawa ko.

Hindi ko alam kung paano, pero bigla ko na lang naisip na tignan ang mga katangian ng isang Libra, ang zodiac sign ko. Ewan ko ba. Madalas kasi, hindi ko rin kilala ang sarili ko. Minsan, kailangan ko pang tanungin ang mga malalapit sa akin para malaman kung ano ba ang mga kahinaan ko at mga magagandang katangiang taglay ko. Minsan kasi, kailangan talaga natin ng ibang tao para makita natin kung ano ang mga hindi natin nakikita sa ating mga sarili. Suwerte namang nakakita ako ng iba't ibang website na nagsasabi ng mga gusto kong malaman. Pero kakaiba ang website na huling napuntahan ko. May free sample ito ng iyong personal na astrolohiya. Kailangan mo lang isulat ang araw ng iyong kapanganakan, ang lugar at bansa kung saan ka ipinanganak, ang iyong kasarian, at kung posible, ang oras ng iyong kapanganakan. Ilang minuto lang, mababasa mo na ito. At magugulat ka dahil tugmang-tugma ito sa personalidad mo. Ang nasabing website ay ang Astrology.com. Heto ang sample na nakuha ko:

Section 1: How You Approach Life and How You Appear To Others
You appear gentle and soft, and you act rather reserved with others until you know them well and feel it is safe to be open with them. You have a strong need for emotional security and a sense of belonging, and are deeply attached to the past: your heritage, roots, family, cherished friends, familiar places, etc. Making radical changes or moves away from what is known and safe can be very painful and difficult for you. You tend to cling and hold on to people, memories, possessions of personal or sentimental significance. Having a home, a safe haven, is very important to you.

Section 2: The Inner You: Your Real Motivation
Harmony and balance are your keynotes. You instinctively understand the need to accommodate other peoples' interests and desires, and you are always fair and willing to meet the other person half way. Tactful, diplomatic, and with considerable social awareness, you do all you can to avoid conflict and discord. You express a spirit of cooperation and compromise and often achieve through charm and discretion what would have been impossible to achieve by a direct, forceful approach.

Nakakamangha talagang parang binabasa ko ang sarili ko. Sayang nga lang at hindi ko nabasa ang kabuuan nito. May bayad na kasi iyon at ito'y tumataginting na 14.95$.

Cooking from the heart

Last night, I and my hubby agreed that I will be the one to go to the market to buy stocks for our store and he will be the one to go to the NSO office in Quezon City. He needs to go there very early to get the authentication of our marriage certificate, a requirement for my new passport.

I woke up 7:30 in the morning. I tried to wake him up but he's too tired to open his eyes. I fell asleep once again and an hour later, I woke up. I let him see my phone, pointing to the screen that says 8:34. He said, "You didn't wake me up."

I glared at him and said, "You're too tired to get up."

Without giving in to my argument, he stood out of the bed and took a quick shower. I was brushing my teeth when he was done and about to go. Maybe he's kind of skeptical about me going to the market that's why he offered to do the task himself before going to NSO. Honestly it would be a great idea for me so I would be spared to go to the market but I refused at first thinking that he might not arrive at NSO early. I was hoping he could get the authentication within the day so that we could go to DFA in the afternoon. But then, I changed my mind thinking that it would take only an hour to buy the stocks needed. So he went to the market and I went upstairs to well, sleep again.

I woke up 12 noon. I went downstairs and saw the stocks. I texted him and asked his whereabouts and he replied, "I'm still standing in line. My number is 3702. Did you eat already?"

I replied I only had my cup of coffee. He said he hadn't eat anything and he's already starving. I actually didn't bother to ask him if he ate already. Yes, I'm too insensitive for a wife! What I asked was, if it would be possible to get the authentication. He said, "Don't worry. I won't go home unless I got the authentication even if I'm already starving to death!"

I didn't take seriously what he said. But I thought of giving him a surprise by cooking nilagang baboy at manok. Last night, he cooked pochero. He said that he would be cooking nilaga for today but since he was doing some errands, I thought of doing the cooking myself.

I've never been a cook. Between the two of us, he was the one in-charge at the kitchen. He is a cook. He's very good at cooking and working in a hotel and restaurants before, not to mention in a cruise ship, he had learned to cook different dishes. Maybe it was in his blood, being a true-blooded Capampangan, he inherited from his aunts and grandmother his talent in cooking.

I can also cook but I didn't have the time for it. He actually find me a good cook too, even my colleages agreed to that. But pasta is my specialty. I had this way of 'experimenting' and it turned out that my recipes are just delicious. One time when the son of my supervisor was about to celebrate his birthday, she asked me to cook my tuna spaghetti for her son. Even during our Christmas party, I was always the one in-charge for the pasta.

So going back to nilaga, the funny thing here is, I can't even hold the raw meat! Instead of using a disposable gloves, I asked my 'assistant' to cut the meat for me. And then, I prepared for the ingredients. But since it was my first time to cook nilaga, I called him to ask the procedure. It wasn't a surprise anymore but he was surprised when he learned I'll cook for him. He said he was too excited to go home.

More than half an hour, the dish was set and he just came on time.

And his verdict: "Your nilaga tasted the same as mine, it is even better!"

Well, he's my husband and I trust him.

May nalaman akong sekreto

Matagal ko ng nakikitang pakalat-kalat sa bahay ang librong The Secret ni Rhonda Byrne. Mayroon ang dalawang kapatid ko nito, hardbound. Noon pa ko naiintriga pero ni minsan, hindi ko naisipang buklatin ang mga pahina nito. Pero habang nakikita ko ang pagbabago sa mga kapatid ko, sa pisikal mang itsura o sa pananaw nila sa buhay, tila naengganyo akong silipin ang mga pahina nito kanina. Para akong magnanakaw na kinalkal ang gamit ng kapatid kong umuwi sa probinsya at suwerteng hindi naman niya dinala ang libro roon.

Naisip ko lang, baka makakatulong nga ang libro para maging positibo naman ang pananaw ko sa buhay sa kabila ng kawalan ko ng pag-asang makahanap pa ng matinong trabaho na may 'disenteng' suweldo.

Tumanim sa utak ko ang nakasaad sa mga unang pahina. "The secret is the law of attraction," anito. Sinasabi nito na tayo mismo ang responsable sa kung ano man ang dumarating sa buhay natin-- na kung anu man ang mga iniisip natin, iyon ang nangyayari. Samakatuwid, kung naiisip kong hindi ako matatanggap sa mga inaplayan kong trabaho, iyon nga ang mangyayari dahil ang pag-iisip kong iyon mismo ang umaakit sa kung ano ang mangyayari sa akin. Kung negatibo ang pag-iisip ko, natural na negatibo rin ang ibabalik sa akin.

Ibing sabihin, makapangyarihan talaga ang ating isip. Dahil dito, naisip kong ibahin ang pananaw ko. Alam kong hindi iyon madali lalo na sa panahon na puro krisis na lang ang nangyayari. Pero kailangan kong maakit ang mga positibong bagay. Kaya nga ang iniisip ko ngayo'y darating na ang trabahong ninanais ko. At higit pa roon. Sa isip ko'y nakapaskil na ang mga magagandang bagay na darating sa hinaharap.

Walang masama kung maniniwala ako sa libro. Dahil sa totoo lang, gumaan ang loob ko kahit paano. Nakasilip ako ng pag-asa sa mga pahinang iyon. Hindi ko pa ito lubusang natatapos, pero may maganda nang nangyari at ito'y maging positibo lagi sa gitna ng mga pagsubok.

Asleep

I am tired. Deadly tired.

But I cannot just rest. I wanted to finish my cnf and revise my poems. Actually I am excited to write as soon as I can. I also have to read Neruda's Odes to Common Things as my homework.

But my head is becoming heavy and so are my eyes. My bed is so enticing that I just wanted to...














"Zzzzzzzzzzzzz"

Pasaporteng nasa ere

Nakakainis talaga. Kapag nga naman tinamaan ka ng malas, sunud-sunod. Hindi ko alam kung nananadya ang panahon o sadyang mailap lang talaga sa akin ang swerte. Naisip ko tuloy, ganun na ba ako kawalang-hiya na sa nuknukan kong sama ay pinarurusahan na ako ng kung anumang elemento?

Noong Lunes, pumunta kami sa DFA para i-update ang passport ko. Alam ko namang naiba na ang passport ngayon, hi-tech, computer-readable na raw ang siste. Kung hindi ba naman ako isa't kalahating shunga-shunga, hindi ko naisip na kailangan nga pala ng panibagong picture. Hindi tulad dati na puti ang background, ngayon ay 'royal blue' na. Eh malay ko ba? Kaya ayun, daig ko pa ang na-hold up sa P150.00 na picture. Putik talaga! Mantakin mo 'yon? Eh dito sa 'min, otsenta lang, maganda pa as in kahit hindi ka maganda sa totoong buhay eh mapapaganda ka! *wonders of photography* nga eh.

Siyempre, dahil napasubo na 'ko, nakuha ko rin ang 'appointment number' ko. Pero tinamaan talaga ng lintik, biruin mong Biyernes pa ako pinababalik ng alas dos ng hapon kasama na ang mga requirements. Nakakainis talaga! Pero ano naman ang magagawa ko? Hindi ko hawak ang batas para utusan silang magmanikluhod sa akin at pagsilbihan nila ako ora mismo! Eh 'di siyempre, naghintay ako ng apat na raw hanggang eto na nga, Biyernes na.

Excited pa ang lola mo, akala ko kasi, mapa-process na ang passport ko dahil plano ko ngang magdadagdag na lang ako para makuha ko sa loob ng pitong araw. Nakipila-pila pa ko't lahat pagdating ko naman sa dakilang bintana kung saan iaabot ko sa napaka-ewan na kawani, saka ako sasabihan na, NSO copy ng marriage certificate ang kailangan ko, hindi ito. Putik talaga! Gusto kong sabihing, "Hoy, sinabi nung nagbigay ng appointment sa 'kin na pwede na ung original copy ng m.c. ko na galing ng munisipyo! Pinaghintay niyo ko ng ilang araw sana sinabi niyo kaagad para nakuha ko ito!" Hay! Anak ng tokwa silang lahat! Pero siyempre, wala ako sa teritoryo ko para sabihin iyon. Saka baka buweltahan pa niya akong hindi ako nagbabasa ng instructions sa likod nung form. Naturalmente binasa ko iyon kaya nga tinanong ko dun sa isang empleyado kung pwede na ung sa munisipyo, at umoo naman ito.

Nakakainis talaga! Sobrang nasayang ang araw ko. Imbes na nakagawa ako ng mga dapat kong gawin, nilamon lang ng walang kwentang ewan ang oras ko. Hay. Kung pwede nga lang... Sana mayroon na lang akong kakayahang mapagalaw ang mga bagay sa paligid gamit lang ng isip. Para kapag nainis ako, pwede kong gawan ng kaunting mahika ang mga kinaiinisan ko. Pero siyempre, alam kong karimarimarim 'yon. Kaya nga kung sinuman ang mga nang-aapi sa akin, ipinauubaya ko na lang sa karma ang lahat.

Pity Party

My friend and I were chatting last night. She always tell me to stop worrying, to stop pitying at myself. Eventhough there's computer between us, it's not difficult for her to know that I am undergoing a serious problem. You'll ask me, is there a problem that isn't serious?! Yes I know, all problems are serious and mine is deadly serious!

We've been friends since college. And she's worrying because she knows me too well. She knows my 'sayad' side and she's pretty aware that I've been sort of a Sylvia Plath before. I told her not to worry about me because I'm trying myself to be optimistic. Although I admit, there were still times that I'm thinking what if I'll just take the easy way out? What if I'll create my own ending now? Sometimes I think what if I'll just do it and my family will just discover my body and beside me were my unpublished works? Hahaha!

But I know, it wouldn't make a difference. I'm not a coward. Yes, I'm trying to convince myself. I have many regrets in my life and I don't want to make another one. A while ago, I was writing my close-reading on my classmate's poem. The poem is about time. The passing of time. If only I could just adjust my watch and bring back the moments which I want to change, maybe I've done it already. I pity myself for being unhappy. Some people say happiness is only a state of mind. I don't think so. It's not for me. They say happiness is a choice. That's another bullshit. What if something terrible happened to you, let's say your dog died, can you choose to be happy? Can you force yourself to be happy if something is missing inside you?

If only I could bring back the times, maybe I'll cut classes. I'll smoke 'til morning, get myself drunk 'til dawn. I'll throw dirty finger to those bitches and bastards in the university. Hahaha, it has always been my dream to do that. Sometimes I do it to my hubby and he'll have the best laugh of his life! He says, 'abnoy' to me. I also want to spit my phlegm at streets where there are many people around. I just want to feel 'normal'. I just want to get rid out of this unwanted feeling. Maybe doing stupid things will help. Well, I think...perhaps?

Ibang klaseng diskriminasyon

Naakit akong magbasa ng isang disenteng tabloid kanina nang mapasadahan ko ng tingin ang isang kakaibang balita.

Madalas na kapag napag-uusapan ang diskriminasyon, lahi kaagad ang unang pumapasok sa ating isip: itim kontra puti; oriental kontra kanluran. Minsan nariyan din ang estado sa buhay, ang taas ng pinag-aralan, pati na ang eskwelahang pinapasukan. Siyempre pa, hindi rin pahuhuli ang itsura: maganda kontra pangit, matangkad kontra pandak, at mataba kontra payat.

Pero kanina, nagulat ako sa isang balita sa China. Dahil mga bata, madalas na hindi natin maiiwasan ang tuksuhan ng mga ito sa eskwelahan. Katulad ng nagbasa ko kanina, isang labinlimang taong gulang na mag-aaral na sobra-sobra ang timbang ang madalas na tampulan ng tukso. Pero imbes na pagbawalan ng mga guro at administrador ng eskwelahan ang mga lokong estudyanteng nanunukso, minabuti pa nilang paalisin o i-kickout ang kawawang matabang estudyante. Kung makapagrason ang mga ito, tila wala silang pinag-aralan. Napakabaluktot ng rason nila na para wala ng tuksuhin ang mga bata, nararapat lamang na alisin ang pinanggagalingan ng tukso. Imbes na makisimpatiya sa matabang mag-aaral at ituro ang tamang pakikipagkapwa-tao sa mga alaskador na estudyante, tila naging pasimuno pa ang paaralang iyon sa China. Paano matututo ng wastong ugali ang mga nasasakupan ng mga ito kung mismong sila'y mapangmata?

Sa loob ng dalawampu't tatlo kong pamumuhay, ngayon lang ako nakarinig ng ganoon. Madalas ng ang pinatatalsik sa mga eskwelahan ay ang mga basagulero, walang hilig sa pag-aaral, o yung mga nahuhuling gumagawa ng ka-imoralan at siyempre, kagaguhan. Pero sa China, iba ang trip nila. Mabuti na lang, swerte akong ipinanganak dito sa Pilipinas dahil kahit paano, karamihan sa mga Pilipino'y marunong din namang makipagkapwa-tao.

The Middle Child Speaks

Is there an instance in your life when you wished you were born and raised in another family? Or you had this wishful thinking that you were not a real daughter of your parents but a lost princess in a faraway castle?

Sounds fairytale-like huh?

But for some reasons, I wished I was not my parents' daughter. Yes, you may call me 'ingrata' or whatever you like but that's how I felt or sometimes feel towards my parents. It's just that, I don't know why I couldn't feel their concern for me. Is it because we're too many in the family (we're eight, including our adopted sibling) that's why it's hard for them to divide their attention equally?

I used to envy my eldest brother and sister. Actually, until now I envy them. But they are unaware of it because they feel the same way towards me. I know. I am aware. I can feel it.Maybe because our dad gives whatever I want. As in. Like for example laptop or money to buy this worth of a thousand book. But these things I used to ask from my dad are not wants. These are necessities. And I think my dad give these things to me because I've always been 'straight' in school, meaning I don't cut classes, I maintain high grades and even included in the achievers' list, I don't have any vices.But these are invisible to my kuya and ate. They just think that I am our dad's favorite. Maybe. Because I tried to be a good daughter even I am stubborn at times. Or most of the times.

But I envy them. My kuya is our mom's favorite. I don't know maybe because he got the privilege of being the first-born. I actually think that our kuya is the 'bunso' in the family. Why? Well, until now that he has his own family, he still is dependent on our parents-- the house, their food, their water and electricity bills, even their internet access, I suppose were all being spoon-fed to him. I never saw him worked. Sometimes I can't help not to compare myself to him. I have worked hard ('though I am jobless now that I resigned); I applied for jobs. How come he has so much while I don't have any? Maybe the only thing I have more than my kuya is pride-- pride that whatever I eat now, or we eat now, is from our own. And if ever I finished my MFA, I can say that I haven't asked a single cent from my parents.

On the other hand, my ate is more responsible. I can say that for me, she is like our 'panganay'. Although they stay within the vicinity or our parents (because they occupy the rest house) still, she and her husband work for their son and for their other needs. But I can't help not to envy her. Since we were young and until now even when she gave birth, she is the beauty queen, the muse, the goddess in the family. Back then, I am always taken for granted because of her. My mom always buys her nice things-- beautiful clothes, nice bags, and trendy shoes. And me? Well, she buys me food for consolation. She used to say that she didn't buy me anything because she didn't know what I like. Well for me thats bullshit. Is there anyone who let you out in this stupid world who didn't know what her child likes? It would be nice of her if she just have told me she didn't see anything that would fit me. Or anything that would look nice for me because I am fat and ugly. Well, my mom made me feel as such. Thanks to her, I never saw anything beautiful in my body. I remember my mom not attending any PTA meetings. But she never missed the pageants my sister joined. She always boasts that during her younger years, she looked like my ate.

I don't blame my parents for growing up like I am now--unconfident and full of insecurities. That's what they wanted me to inherit from them. Not money. Nor their guidance. And who am I to refuse? I am JUST a product of the union of their egg and sperm cells.

Si ‘Ako’ sa Makulay na Mundo ng Komiks

“Pssst, hoy!”

“Ako?” sabay turo sa aking sarili habang pasimpleng lumilinga kung may ibang taong nasa paligid maliban sa akin. Mabuti na ang nakasisiguro dahil si ‘hoy’ ay hindi napipirmi sa iisang tao lamang. Ito’y maaring ‘ako’ o dili kaya’y ikaw o kaya nama’y sila: isang katotohanang aking ikinamamangha at akin din namang ikinaiinis.

Namamangha ako dahil sa iisang tawag lamang, hindi lang iisa ang mapapalingon. Ngunit sa isang banda’y nakaiinis isiping nawawala ang isang bahagi ng aking pagkakakilanlan. Tulad ng aking sariling pangalan. Hindi ba’t wala nang papantay pa sa musikang hatid ng pagbigkas ng ating sariling pangalan?

Noon pa man, bisyo na ng Nanay ko ang magbasa ng komiks. Ibayong ligaya ang hatid sa kanya ng mga tauhang kanyang tinawanan at iniyakan. Kaya’t hindi na kataka-taka kung doon niya hinango ang aking pangalan.

Ang sabi ng mga kaibigan ko hindi raw ako mahirap patawanin. Tipong magpunit lang ng papel sa harap ko, tatawa na ako. Masyado raw akong masayahin na para bang permanente na ang ngiti sa aking mga labi. Kaya’t sa tuwing may dinaramdam ako o kaya’y may problema, malalaman nila kaagad dahil hindi sila sanay na lukot ang mukha ko. Minsan tuloy pakiramdam ko, wala akong karapatang sumimangot o kaya’y magmukmok dahil ligaya ang nakadikit sa pangalan ko. Na tulad ng isang komiks, ipinanganak ako upang maghatid ng kasiyahan sa ibang tao.

Wala akong balak maging kandidato sa pulitika sa hinaharap pero minsan kahit hindi ko kakilala basta’t nasalubong ko, hindi makaliligtas sa ngiti ko. Swerte na ako kung singtamis ng bukayo ang ngiting isinusukli sa akin. Ang kaso may mga oras na maasim pa sa sinampalukan ang mukhang sasalubong sa ‘kin. At kung minalas-malas pa, sasabihan pa ako ng “anong nakakatawa?” Naisip ko ganoon talaga siguro. Hindi lahat mapapangiti mo. Parang sa isang biro, hindi lahat matatawa. May mangilan-ngilang mapipikon sayo.

Kahit ang Nanay ko, may mga pagkakataong ayaw niyang sobra ang saya ko. Masama raw iyon dahil siguradong ibayong kalungkutan ang kapalit ng bawat halakhak ko. Nakakatawa hindi ba? Kapag malungkot ka, gustong mapasaya ka. Pero kapag sobra ang kasiyahan mo, pagbabawalan ka’t gustong maghinay-hinay ka sa katatawa.

Hindi ko alam kung may punto ba ang Nanay ko roon. Pero sa isang banda naisip ko, bakit ko pipigilan ang sarili kong tumawa nang malakas o humalakhak nang walang humpay kung may dahilan naman para gawin ko iyon? Isa pa, ang kalungkutan ay tulad ng masamang hangin. Hindi mo maiiwasang malanghap ang amoy na ‘yon. Pero may magagawa ka. Maaari mong takpan ang ‘yong ilong para hindi tuluyang manuot sa pang-amoy mo ang bahong hatid niyon. Sa isang banda, paminsan-minsan kailangan din nating makalanghap ng masamang hangin para mas maging matibay ang ating resistensiya. Tulad ng kalungkutan, kailangan natin ito para higit nating maunawaan ang halaga ng bawat segundong tayo’y nakatatawa.

Malaki talaga ang impluwensiya ng komiks sa Nanay ko dahil pati palayaw ko hinango niya rito. “Niknok” ang tawag sa akin sa bahay. Isa siyang tauhan sa funny komiks na ayon sa Nanay ko ay napakakulit na bata. Idagdag pa na bulol ito at mahilig sa manok— mga katangiang taglay ko noong bata pa ako.

Hanggang ngayon bitbit ko ang palayaw na ‘yon sa amin. Sa katunayan, gusto kong dalhin iyon hanggang sa aking pagtanda. Dahil para sa akin, ang palayaw na iyon ang nagpapaalala sa akin ng kabataan ko— isang yugto sa aking buhay kung saan simple ang lahat; na hindi ko kailangang mabuhay para sumunod sa kagustuhan ng iba sukdulang isantabi ko ang sariling kaligayahan ko.

May rason kung bakit sa komiks nakuha ng Nanay ko ang pangalan at palayaw ko. Hindi na mawawala ang kasiyahang kakambal na ng pangalan ko. Sa pagdaan ng mga araw, buwan at taon, tiyak na madaragdagan din ang mga rason ko para patuloy na ngumiti. Alam kong kaakibat ng mga ngiting iyon ay mga luhang maaaring magpaigting o makabawas sa kaligayahang iyon. Subalit mananatili pa rin sa katauhan ko si Niknok, ang batang makulit na patuloy na magpapaalala sa akin ng isang simpleng buhay na malayo sa pagkukunwari.

Totoo na ang buhay ay parang isang komiks lamang. May oras na tatawa ka, may oras din namang iiyak ka. Minsan may galit pero sa bandang huli mayroong isang bagay na ipagpapasalamat ka: ‘di tulad ng komiks na may nakatakdang wakas, hangga’t nabubuhay ka’y maaari mong balikan at ayusin ang mga gusot sa buhay mo; at ang maganda roon, ikaw ang gagawa ng sarili mong wakas.

Letting Go

Sometimes, you just have to let go something important in place of something more significant. Being a sentimental person that I am, it's hard for me to give up something whether worn out clothes, or slippers, or even a candy wrapper if it was given to me by someone very important in my life. Yes, I am the type who keeps wrappers or papers that my hubby used to call 'junk' in my room. Even the stick of the banana cue he first gave me, I kept in my 'baul'. That's how sentimental I am.

When it comes to gadgets, I had a very big and heavy ECS laptop which my father bought for me when I was in first year college. During those times, you cannot just buy a laptop worth 20k. I think the cheapest was 40k. It's pretty expensive but for me it was a necessity since being a journalism student, I had a lot of paper works then and it was very inconvenient for me to stay until midnight in computer shops considering that we had curfew in our dorm. I named it Lappy. Well, I suppose she is a girl because she was so 'matampuhin'. Whenever I joke that I'll throw it because of its poor performance, it literally breaks down in front of me or it suddenly hangs. It underwent a lot of repairs but I'm glad that despite its many 'illnesses' like problems in LCD, keyboard, very low memory, etc., it was able to stay with me until my thesis defense. Lappy is now six years old, very old for a gadget, too outdated compared to the new models of laptop today. But you know what? I never disposed it. My father bought me a new laptop as a birthday present two years ago, which is what I am using now. But I haven't named it yet. Of course I sometimes miss Lappy. And whenever this laptop breaks down, Lappy is always ready to rescue me. Yes, it was Lappy that I use when I wrote my paper for Kritika and my play for my playwriting techniques.

After Lappy, three years ago I bought a P900 cellphone. It was very important for me because I was the one who bought it. It was my own money which I earned from my first job. In other words, it was my 'own sweat and blood'. And I didn't pay it at once. I paid it for about three months before completing the payment. It has really sentimental value because it was also the cellphone that my hubby brought abroad. I even joked him once about how lucky that cellphone was because it already traveled at Egypt, Turkey, Mexico, Miami, Italy, France, and other European countries. Yes, that P900 of mine was able to have its European cruise because that was the route of NCL, where my hubby used to work. But sad to say, I just sold it awhile ago...

I don't have a job and we have a lot of expenses. We just had payed the penalty for our business permit and renewed it at the same time. We didn't have enough savings and I'm not the type who asks money to my parents especially now that I'm married. I also don't want to borrow money from them or from my siblings or from my friends. I wanted to pawn my pair of earrings that my mom gave to me but I just can't. I already pawned one and I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to redeem it. So I had no choice but to sell my P900 since I still have my other cellphone. I have to sell it in order for me to pay the amount needed for our live-in workshop in Tagaytay. I thought it was really worth it since workshop is workshop. Never mind the sentimental value, I told myself. I thought I had my problem solved. But you know what happened?

I almost cried when I learned from our prof.'s email that the out-of-town workshop will be cancelled due to some reasons. If only I could give back the money to the buyer and get back my P900... but it's too late. That would be unfair to the buyer. And embarrassing too.

I told my brother about it. He too felt sorry for me... and for the P900. Well, he tried to comfort me and said that maybe it's about time for me to bid goodbye to it.

Reading my origins

I was reading Edna Zapanta-Manlapaz's Kapampangan Literature: A Historical Survey and Anthology. This is my first step in knowing where I come from. Read. And in time, understand.

At one point it saddens me, realizing that I hardly understand my own language. I tried not to be pessimistic about it but sometimes I can't help it. I understand some words but plenty of them I have difficulty comprehending. The only Kapampangan work I know is the Hymno ning Capampangan. Well, I just know it way back in grade school because we used to sing it in school. Furthermore, I just realized that I have to study first our alphabet before plunging into its literature. I think Capampangan Alphabet differs. Like for example, some uses 'C' in place of 'K'. When they write for example, 'keka' which means 'sayo' in Tagalog, they spelled it as 'queca'. It seemed that I still have a very long way to go before 'really' learning it. It just bothers me in the sense that how come I was able to learn basic Spanish while I have trouble in studying my native language?

I just want to share a stanza of a Kapampangan poem written by Amado Yuzon in the early 1930s. There's a counterpart English translation of it. My reference is the same book I mentioned earlier, Edna Zapanta-Manlapaz's Kapampangan Literature: A Historical Survey and Anthology, page 38:

Palsintan Daca (I Love You)

palsintan daca (i love you)

malsinta cu at mangaibugan (i love and desire )

busal ning sinta mangaibugan cu (in the midst of love i desire)

busal ning pamangaibugan malsinta cu (in the midst of desire i love)

uling ing tau caladua ya at laman (for man is soul and flesh)

ing caladua malsinta ya (the soul loves)

ing laman mangaibugan (the flesh desires)

acu tau cu (i am a man)

inia e mu pagmumulan nung baquet (so do not wonder why)

neng misan buri queng masala ing bulan (at times i want there to be)

at neng misan naman buri queng maralundum (moonlight and at other times)

ing bengi. (i want the darkness of night.)

For Him

If he will, by any chance, be able to read this, this is for him. For being the father, the kuya, the bestfriend, the boyfriend, the husband. Happy Valentine's Day!

To the Man I Married

by Angela Manalang-Gloria

I
You are my earth and all that earth implies:
The gravity that ballasts me in space,
The air I breathe, the land that stills my cries
For food and shelter against devouring days.
You are the earth whose orbit marks my way
And sets my north and south, my east and west,
You are the final, elemental clay
The driven heart must turn to for its rest.
If in your arms that hold me now so near
I lift my keening thoughts to another one,
As trees long rooter to the earth uprear
Their quickening leaves and flowers to the sun,
You who are earth, O never doubt that I
Need you no less because I need the sky!

II
I can not love you with a love
That outcompares the boundless sea,
For that were false, as no such love
And no such ocean can ever be.

But I can love you with a love
As finite as the wave that dies
And dying holds from crest to crest
The blue of everlasting skies.

Fatherless Child

There are mornings I wake up feeling downhearted with the thought that I am still the daughter of my father— mornings I wish I was just trapped in a trance and any moment someone else’s blood would run through my veins.

I do not know exactly when I lost my father.

I do not know exactly when my Dada died— in my heart.

Dada.

It was a plain and simple word that could stir a beat even to the numbest soul. It could have also been a muted cry of a lost waif longing to be cared for. Or it could have been a child’s hymn to her father whom she reveres in all honesty.

Whenever my Mom would recount how difficult it was for me to sleep without Dada beside me, I could not help not to flinch especially when she would tease me how I made a pillow and blanket out of my Dada’s bear-like tummy and warm embrace. Even the smell of his underarm, my Mom said, sent a strange kind of aroma into my nostrils giving me a sound and soothing sleep.

I was embarrassed when my Mom mentioned about it ‘though I know what she was saying were true. Even for myself I can still recall how I cried and ran after my Dada every morning when I hear the sound of his car’s engine thinking that I would never see him again at home. My young mind then could not understand why he has to go every morning to work and go home late at night. My Mom said he must work for us— to eat, to send us to school, and buy everything we need. I could not understand then why in order for us to have so much money to spend, my Dada must spend so little of his time for us.

During my childhood years, it was very obvious that I am my Dada’s lucky charm. Whenever he plays cards and asks me to blow his cards, he surely wins the game. Maybe that’s the main reason why my other siblings envied me— for the very reason that I am his pet, I am my Dada’s little girl, and apparently all his attention was on me even though I am not the youngest.

Maybe it was also for the same reason why at a very young age I had the courage to speak to him what was in my mind. Unlike my other siblings who were scared to be scolded, I developed a strange kind of confidence that my Dada would never get mad at me. That’s why I was usually the one who calls him on the phone in the places (especially restaurants) wherever he was. I memorized all the phone numbers of those places just to make sure that he would go home early. I could still hear the voice of a seven-year-old girl uttering, “Good evening po. Pwede po ba kay Engr. Macatuno? ‘Da, umuwi ka na! ‘Wag kang magpapagabi!” And with my powerful order, he usually followed my command with a box of chocolate-flavored drumsticks as my pasalubong.

I was stricter than my Mom who sometimes secretly conspired with me in calling my Dada even he was in the middle of his business meeting. It seemed that I was like a wife to him who kept on nagging him to go home as soon as he could. But more than that, I was his little girl who could not sleep without him around.

Those were the blissful times I spent with my Dada. Gone were the days I ran after him before he goes to work because now, just like the phone numbers of those places he had been, I could hardly remember when the last time we’ve exchanged a sensible conversation was. I couldn’t even hear the laughter we have shared. And even for a quarter of a minute, I couldn’t even look at him straight in the eye. It’s as if my eyes were looking directly in the heightened glow of the sun.

When I lost my rank as one of the top ten achievers during my high school years, I was ecstatic for I was able to come across a stream in the desert I was stuck in. Being one of the achievers played a greater portion in contributing to my agony. I did not fully enjoy my elementary years because I forced myself to be like this and like that. I was afraid that the attention I was getting from my Dada was slowly fading away just like a mist.
I wanted to please my father.

Since I entered school there’s only one thing I asked from him: to accompany me upstage in getting my certificates of recognition. But he never went up unless I become a valedictorian or a salutatorian. I know not earning an award would not make me less of a person. It’s just a title. It would never measure a person’s worth. But that’s the rule of my father. It’s his kind of game. So I strived and played according to his set of laws to earn what I had been struggling for—his approval.

Fortunately, I was able to finish grade school making him somehow proud of me. Never mind those nights I have to stay awake just to prepare for my lessons the next day. The cups of instant coffee that had been my weapons to my enticing bed were worth the drink because for the very first time, he went along with me in my graduation.

My father would never know how I considered that moment a remarkable one as he was walking with me in the aisle during the presentation of the graduates. He would never know how momentous it was for me to have him beside me as I go along each and every step of that stage facing hundreds of audience wearing my head high for I could tell all of them especially my classmates that I have also a father who’s proud of what I have achieved. He would never know how his presence helped me to deliver my salutatory speech without faltering; how I managed to confidently speak in front of many people for I was too afraid to commit a single blemish that would stain his pride for me and would make him stand on his seat and walk away. I was too scared that my life’s greatest achievement—his presence, would abruptly fade in just a blink of an eye. But he would never know all of these because he became too distant to be near just like an illusion— he was always there yet he was never present at all.

I didn’t mind my father manipulating my life, at first. I didn’t mind entrusting to him my decisions in life that were supposed to be made by myself just like letting him to send me in an all-girls secondary school instead of enrolling in the university where my elder sister and friends chose to study. After all, he is my father and I believe he would never do things that would harm me just like the early days of my childhood when he would carry me on his back and jog around our subdivision. My young mind knew then that even if I let go of my hands embracing his neck, I would not fall down for he would never let go his protective hands off me. Or so I thought.

When I was in high school, I was able to be included in the top ten lists overall among the three hundred second year students in the academy. I asked my father if he could go with me in our recognition day. Instead of approving he asked me, “Top eight ka lang?”
His reaction was not new to me but his words, how disappointed he was to me for not placing first, felt like falling on the ground a hundred times. It was then that I considered myself defeated by my peerless foe-- my father’s expectations.

I looked up to my Dada, honored him and sometimes to the extent of forgetting myself to make him recognize me, again. His approval and satisfaction to my accomplishments were crucial to me. Why? Because he himself is a very proud man. His words were like thunder-- forceful and piercing through every nerve of our system. But with his own might, he himself ruptured his image as a father.

I didn’t imagine that there would come a time I would wake up carrying with me so much anger towards the father whom I placed in a pedestal. I didn’t imagine he was capable of hurting my mom; of hurting us— his family. Back then whenever I do things, I always consider his happiness ‘though I defy mine. It is for the main reason that I wanted him to be proud of me the way I was to him. I thought we have somehow a good family if not perfect.
For about two years I avoided my father. I never talked to him nor even care to look at him. Whenever I see him, I saw how my mom suffered for quite a long time. It was hard for me to treat him like a stranger to think we’re living at the same house but it was harder for me to accept the fact that he ruined our family.

We are complete, physically; but beyond that completeness, I hear the brokenness of our family.

***I once wrote this story. But then, this is one chapter in my life that I just want to let it go. Probably because, I was a child then. I never really understood things. Now, even though my father and I were not that close, what is more important is we are patching up things. I am more mature now and I can say what my father did is something that every father out there might have done or is doing. Yes, I felt betrayed. But my dad is not perfect. I can see how he strived to give us good and comfortable life. Despite what happened, he never neglected his obligations. And now, he is not getting any younger. I believe he loves my mom and he loves us. He is not the showy-sweet type of father but I can see how he value us. I hope, one day I can write something beautiful about him-- something that would make him happy...and proud of.

Taboan, Tagpuan

Napakahalaga ng araw na ito.Ito ang araw kung saan nagtipun-tipon ang mga batikang manunulat na tinitingala natin sa mundo ng Literatura-- mga manunulat na naging parte ng paghuhulma ng ating pagka-Pilipino.

Para sa tulad kong ang pluma'y nagsisimula pa lamang umindak sa saliw ng mga salita, isang malaking karangalan ang makadaupang-palad ang mga pinagpipitagan nating manunulat gaya nina F. Sionil Jose, Pete Lacaba, Virgilio Almario, Gemino Abad, Isagani Cruz, Butch Dalisay, Cristina Pantoja Hildalgo, Marjorie Evasco, Rebecca Anonuevo, Benilda Santos, Mookie Katigbak, J. Neil Garcia, Mia Tijam at marami pang iba. Sila na una kong nakilala sa libro, ni sa hinagap ay hindi ko inasahang darating sa buhay ko ang ganitong pagkakataon. Para akong nakalutang sa alapaap habang hindi magkanda-ugaga sa pagpapakuha ng letrato kasama sila.

Iba ang pakiramdam na makasama sila kahit sa sandaling oras lamang. Pakiramdam ko, nabiyayaan ako ng kanilang angking galing sa sining. Pakiramdam ko, naging parte ako sa mga gantimpalang natamo na nila. Pakiramdam ko, abot-kamay ko na sila.

Nakakatawa man, nasabi ko sa kaibigan ko na darating ang araw, kami na ang uupo roon at magsasalita ukol sa mga pinagdaanan namin bilang isang manunulat. Hindi naman siguro masama ang mangarap. Lalo na't marami kaming natutunan at patuloy na natututo sa mga manunulat na naging inspirasyon na namin upang kami'y patuloy na makipagsayaw sa mga salitang bubuo sa aming mga likha.

Pandaigdigang Lokohan

Saludo talaga ako kay Sen. Miriam Santiago. Ibang klase kung humirit siya! Noon pa ma'y talagang natutuwa na ako sa kanya. Parang ang saya niyang makasama. Noon ngang dumalo siya sa USTe kasama ang ibang mga senador noong nasa kolehiyo pa 'ko , siya ang umani ng pinakamalakas na palakpak. Nayanig talaga ang Med. Audi. ng USTe noon. Iba kasi ang mga pananaw niya. At kahit pa sabihin ng ilan na may 'pagka-krungkrung' siya dahil sa sobra niyang katalinuhan, wala akong pakialam. Basta ang alam ko, isa siya sa mga may utak sa gobyerno.

Natawa lang talaga ako kanina nang mabasa ko sa isang pahayagan ang suhestiyon ni Sen. Miriam para kay FG tungkol sa pagkakasangkot nito sa anomalya sa WB road project. Wala talagang lusutan! Tama lang iyon, kung hindi kaya ni FG ang pumunta sa senado para kuhanan ng pahayag ukol sa eskandalong kinasasangkutan nito, nararapat lang na ang senado ang 'magreach-out' sa kanya. Siguro naman, wala nang maiisip pang alibi si Unang Ginoo.

Nakakatawa talaga! Kanina pa 'ko natatawa. Bakit nga kaya ganoon? Parang napakadaling lumusot sa lahat ng bagay kapag may sakit ka. Siyempre nga naman, bawal ang ganito't ganire. Baka maging kargo de konsensiya mo pa siya. Pero sa kabilang banda, bakit daig pa ng iba ang malakas na kalabaw kung pangungurakot na ang usapan? Pasintabi po!

Paglalayag sa Kawalan

Kung pwede lang utusan ang mga mata ko na pumikit na, ginawa ko na sana. Hindi ko maintindihan kung bakit tila may sariling isip ang mga ito na kahit pilitin ko mang ipikit, didilat at didilat pa rin mga ito.

Naramdaman mo na ba iyon?

Ang sakit. Nakakatakot. Lalo na kung mahimbing na ang lahat at tanging ugong na lang ng aircon ang naririnig mo. Nakapanghihilakbot. Parang sumasaid sa kailaliman ng mga buto ko ang lamig. Ano pa ang pagkakaiba ko sa mga bangkay?

Nananakot ka ba?

Hindi ako nananakot. Hindi ito tungkol sa mga multo o kaluluwa o kung anumang masasamang elemento.

Matakot ka sa buhay huwag sa patay. Higit sa lahat, matakot ka sa iyong SARILI.

Tama. Dahil kailanman ang isang sumakabilang-buhay na ay hindi na maaaring makapanakit sa 'yo. Matakot ka sa sarili mo dahil may kakayahan itong patayin ka...

sa pag-iisip ng kung anu-anong bagay?

Oo. Mga bagay na kayang sirain pati na ang bait mo.May naririnig ka bang nagsasalita kapag mag-isa ka?

Parang merong bumubulong pero hindi ko maintindihan ang mga salita... mabilis ang mga ito. Mahina lang ang pagbulong pero nakabibingi.

Nabibingi ka sa sarili mong boses?

Ha? Bo-boses ko?

Oo. Nakakatawa ka naman! Hindi mo kilala ang sarili mong boses? Marami itong binubulong sayo pero pinili mong isara ang mga tenga mo. Bakit? Natatakot ka ba sa kanya?

Tumigil ka! Hindi ako natatakot sa kanya--

Pero bakit ang lakas ng kabog sa dibdib mo? Dinig na dinig ko.

Hi-hindi... Niloloko mo lang ako!

Ikaw pa ang niloloko ko?! O baka naman, ikaw itong nanloloko?

Paano mo nalamang--?

Kilala kita. Kilalang-kilala. Alam ko ang lahat ng tungkol sayo. Gaya ng alam ko kung anu-ano ang mga ibinubulong sayo.

Bakit mo ginagawa ito?

Bakit hindi mo subukang makinig sa mga binubulong sayo?

Para ano?!

Para hindi ka na mahirapan. Para matapos na lahat...Mas madali iyon.

Tatakas ako? Tatakasan ko lahat ng mga problema ko? Ha! Hindi ako duwag.

Hindi karuwagan ang gagawin mo. Mas magiging matapang ka nga eh. Dahil hindi ka takot masaktan.Hindi katulad ng iba riyan. Masyadong masokista. Magtitiis na lang kahit hirap na hirap na. Ayaw mo bang subukan?

Hindi! Ayoko!

Isang iglap lang iyon. Hindi mo nga mararamdaman eh. Para ka lang matutulog. At paggising mo, wala ka nang aalalahanin pa.

Aahhh! Tumahimik ka! Lumayo ka sa 'kin! Lumayo ka!

Imposible ang hinihiling mo. Hinding-hindi kita iiwan kahit kailan.

Patahimikin mo na 'ko... tumigil ka na! Nabibingi na 'ko...

Kung gusto mo ng katahimikan, gawin mo ang sinasabi ko. Kapag nagawa mo iyon, hinding-hindi mo na 'ko maririnig pa...Pangako.

Ta-talaga?

Oo.

Paano ako makasisiguradong tutuparin mo ang pangako mo?

Panghawakan mo ang mga bulong ko. Sige na. Isang hakbang lang at mawawala na ako.

Saan ka pupunta paghakbang ko?

Hindi ko alam. Hindi ko pa alam. Hindi ko talaga alam...

Isang Soneto

Traje de Boda

Nasusukat ba sa kulay ng Traje de Boda
ang kadalisayang taglay ng isang Maria?
Kung sa dambana’y haharap at maninikluhod
nararapat lang bang puti ang kanyang isuot?
Sakaling may bahid pula ang kanyang naisin,
mababahiran ba ng dungis ang ‘yong pagtingin?
Paano kung putik sa damit niya’y tumalsik?
Pagsinta mo ba’y mahahalinhan ng himagsik?
Kung sa ‘yong nililiyag pag-ibig mo’y busilak,
anumang kulay ng Traje de Boda n’ya’y pilak.
Puti man o pula, itim o may bahid mantsa,
siya’y magmamartsa at tuloy ang seremonya.
Kahit pa may mga Magdalenang nagkukubli
sa Traje de Bodang nakasisilaw sa puti.

Commentary on Joel M. Toledo’s poem “Thirty”

In the Philippine culture, every woman wants to share their vows with a partner before the clock strikes her thirty for the fear of ending up being an old maid. It has been a common joke that she must hurry up while she’s still in the calendar or she might lose the ride. Men on the other hand aren’t bothered too much ‘cause for them life really begins at forty. But who in the world is not afraid to grow old and live alone?

Written in the second person point of view, the poem gives an impression that anyone who reads it would feel the depressing feeling of being alone as time never failed to run. Being in such point of view, it gives me the idea that the poet wants the readers to empathize with the character in the poem by being ‘that character’. There is detachment from the poet as he made use of the personal pronoun ‘you’. Thus the persona here becomes the reader herself.

Reading it, it’s as if the readers were being dictated to feel what was being told in the poem which led me to some questions: What’s the purpose of telling the readers what to feel in a given situation? Is it really to empathize? To realize the value of time? Or to ‘trick’ the readers and just play with their emotions?

Consisting of nine lines, the first two lines of the first stanza gave a clear image—someone is walking out of the apartment on a midsummer day. The ‘midsummer’ is symbolical in nature. It is a parallelism of the persona’s state that she herself is in middle-age or as the title puts it, in her thirties. The succeeding lines were abstract pertaining to the ‘heavy’ emotions of that someone. On the sixth line, the reader would realize that ‘that someone the poet is talking about’ was none other than herself. The reader would shift from being just an ‘intruder’ to be the subject. Hence the reader would feel the ‘abandonment, the lost cause, the passing of love, the burning asphalt that she endures, the thirst for that strange human need.’ The first stanza was pertaining to that hunger—the need to be loved at an age when it seemed it is too late to quench that thirst.

The second stanza reached the persona’s realization that she is not getting any younger and yet it seemed that she is running out of time. She realized how fast the movement of time and it is uncontrollable.

So in the third stanza, the persona began to ‘question the point of movement’. She could no longer bring back the times she wasted. Thus she chose to acknowledge her fate (the standstill, the deadlock, the tie) of being alone.

However, I find the line Quiet and loud out of place. The preceding lines talked about the ‘ticking of the human clock’ and then suddenly, there was the insertion of these words which I find kind of beside the point. Furthermore, the last three lines (in the halfway of things,/ you drink deeply,/ from the very heart of time.) although pleasing to the ears, were kind of sentimental. I find these lines emotional that it leaves the reader in despair and hopelessness.

In Memoriam

Kahapon:
Isang magandang balita ang hatid ng text ng hipag ko. May binigay daw sa kanilang apat na buwang tuta na may lahing chowchow at japanese spitz. Tinatanong niya kami kung gusto namin ito. Siyempre pa, oo kaagad ang sagot ng asawa ko lalo pa't alam niyang paborito ko ang chowchow.

Kanina:
Nakalulungkot ang text ng hipag ko. Wala na raw silang tutang maibibigay sa amin. Biglaan daw ang pagkamatay ng hindi pa namin nakikitang tuta. May nakain daw ito kagabi na nakasama sa sikmura dahilan upang magsuka ito't tuluyan ng sumama kay San Roque.

Ngayon:
Magkahalong panghihinayang at lungkot ang kasalukuyang lumulukob sa aking pagkatao. Akala ko, mapupunan na ng bagong tuta ang espasyong naiwan ni Whitney sa buhay naming mag-asawa. Si Whitney ay isang Labrador Retriever. Anak siya ng aso naming sina Polo at Poochie. Pero namatay na si Whitney. Anim na buwan pa lang ito nang makakain ng nakakalat na hanger. Sayang. Napakalambing pa naman nito. Minsan nga'y pinagselosan ko pa ito dahil pakiramdam ko'y mas mahal ito ng asawa ko kaysa sa 'kin. Pero ngayon, wala na 'kong pinagseselosan. Iba rin kapag may alaga ka. Nakakawala ng depresyon. Hindi na kami makakakita pa ng katulad ni Whitney. Hindi na rin kami magkakaroon ng gaya niya dahil patay na ang nanay nitong si Poochie. At kamakailan lang ay sumunod na rin si Polo. Sayang. Sayang talaga. Kung alam ko lang, hindi ko na sana siya pinagselosan.

Deconstructing Fairytales

I was going over my notes when I happened to pass by one of the exercises our professor asked us to do in our Fiction Writing Workshop.He instructed us to choose one of our favorite fairytales and rewrite it according to our own version.It was a total fun and this is what I've come up with:

Belle went to the forest to look for her father. On her way through the heart of the forest, she encountered Beast. Extremely frightened by Beast's looks, she fell asleep. Beast brought her to his castle. Several years passed and Belle was still asleep. Her hair grew longer and longer.

Beast went to the forest and saw an elf. He confided about Belle's condition and the elf told him that he should find the golden apple in the heart of Troy in order to save Belle from sleeping for the rest of her life. Beast ordered his soldiers to look for the golden apple. They found it and stole it from Paris. Paris learned about it and set a battle between him and Beast.

Paris' men attacked Beast's castle. While leading his soldiers, Paris was caught by a long, shiny thing that looks like a golden rope hanging in the Beast's castle. He was smitten by it and became curious on what is in the uppermost part of the castle. So he made his way and climbed using the golden 'rope'. When he reached the top, he realized that the rope was the hair of the beautiful lady who was sleeping in the tower. He was surprised to see Beast beside her, putting the golden apple in the lady's lips. He was amazed how the beautiful lady woke up as the golden apple touched her lips.

When Beauty opened her eyes, again, she was frightened by Beast. Paris went beside her casting Beast away from her sight. Immediately, Paris and Belle fell in love with each other. Deeply hurt, Beast chose to go down the castle using Belle's very long hair. Paris decided to cut Belle's hair. They didn't want to imagine what happened to Beast. And they lived happily ever after, at the uppermost part of that castle.

Trip to Quiapo

Literal na parang isang sako ng sementong nakahalo na ang pakiramdam ko kaninang umaga. Dahil nasanay na akong gumising ng tanghali, brutal na parusa ang paggising ko nang maaga. Bukod sa mag-aayos nga ako ng mga papeles ko, kasama kong kukuha ng NBI ang kapatid kong natanggap na sa St. Luke's. At dahil gaya ko'y marami rin siyang lalakarin para maipasa na niya ang mga kailangang ipasa bukas sa nasabing ospital, kailangan naming umalis ng maaga. Alas otso ang usapan namin. Pero dahil hindi pa siya bumabangon sa kama, minabuti kong umidlip pa kaya mag-aalas nuwebe na nang tumulak kami papuntang Quiapo para kumuha ng NBI. At dahil coding ang sasakyan, makikipagbuno kami sa mga alikabok sa lansangan.

Mabuti pa siya't ilang minuto lang ay nakuha na niya ang kanyang NBI clearance. Nauna na siyang umalis at ako'y naiwan kasama ng dakila kong kabiyak. Mabuti na lang, sa lahat yata ng sangay ng gobyerno, ang NBI sa may Quiapo ay may sistema. Maayos ang pila at kahit maraming bakante na dapat sana'y inookupa ng mga dagdag na empleyado, naging mabilis naman ang pag-usad ng pila kahit pa iilan lang ang mga nakatoka sa bawat window. At dahil tatlong araw ang proseso, sa Lunes ko na makukuha ang NBI ko.

Natuwa rin ako nang malaman ko buhat sa napagtanungan kong empleyado na kapag lumabas na ang kopya ko, lilitaw rin lahat ng apelyido ko. Hindi ko alam kung medyo nakulitan lang siya sa akin pero masaya ako sa nalaman ko. Siguro nga mababaw ako pero para sa 'kin, malaking bagay iyon dahil nakalilito talaga ang hindi alam kung ano ba talaga ang apelyidong ginagamit mo.

Walang isang oras ay nakalabas na kami sa loob ng gusali. At dahil marami pang oras, minabuti naming mag-ikot sa Quiapo matapos mananghalian. Para akong batang ngayon lang nasisinagan ng araw. Nakakalakas pala talaga ang makakita ka ng kamukha mong may dalawang kamay at paa kaysa sa mga pader sa kuwarto na kumukulong sa aking imahinasyon.

Hindi ko pa naaayos ang ibang dapat kong ayusin pero may bukas pa naman. Isa pa, minsan lang dumating sa akin ang pagkakataong nakakawala ako sa masikip na mundong ako mismo ang may kagagawan.