passing time and avoiding counteer strike

Passing the time. i have been doing just that for the past thirty minutes now. i don't know, but the time when i have been the center of the universe (positively or negatively, that is) when it comes to my classmates have long been gone.

i remember during my first year in UST at the College of Arts and Letters, all my friends were male. there were ten of us, and i was the only female in the group. needless to say, even though i was not near looking like a princess, i was treated like one. the same is true when i was in Central Luzon State University. i was not treated like a princess buti guess some view me as a queen. a bitch queen that is. at least, i stood out.

now that i have left CLSU and is on this new arena of learning, again, i can not help but stand out. i am one of the oldest and so, i guess othrs look at me as the untouchable. i was comfortable at least with the set up, until just now. it was declared that we wouldn't be meeting for today, and so, not wanting to go home early, i tried my luck with my new found companions.

sadly, i end up in a crowded computer shop, waiting for minors to have their fill of the counters strike internet gaming thingy, before we go and have a bottle or two of beer.

so instead of just standing around looking at the gore in their screens, i opted to just rent a PC for a while and start writing. whew, this is such a twist.

Sopas!! Sopas!!

Last June 13 was Tatay’s birthday. We decided to bring 5 kilos of sopas (cream soup) to Mapangpang, Muñoz. We chose Mapangpang because the barangay captain is a regular customer.

And so, with three big pots of sopas and my youngest brother Third as driver, Nanay, Shiro, Noel, Toy, Pam, Aileen and I went to the elementary school in Mapangpang.

We met with the Barangay Captain, and the school teacher. They asked the school children to line up; each one has either a drinking glass or cup, or a small soup bowl, and a big spoon.

Line was not so long, as the school offers only up to grade four. We were almost sad because we had a lot with us, and we don’t want to bring any home. We wanted that everything we bought would all be given away.

Seeing that there is still a lot of sopas, the barangay captain decided to call on the neighborhood, knocking on doors and telling them that sopas is being given away at the school grounds. After a while a few mothers, grand mothers, and other old people started coming, with their soup bowls, and even small pots. They did not just take their sopas away. Most of the old folks even stayed for a chat. They asked why all of a sudden, they were treated to a hot bowl of sopas. We told them that it was my father’s birthday. They even sang the birthday song. After a while, when the sky was getting darker, threatening to rain, we decided that it is time to go home. There was still a pot of sopas left, but we just asked them to transfer it to one of their containers so we could leave it with them. They happily obliged.

They thanked us. And we thanked them in return. The kids waved their lively goodbyes, and the old folks smiled and gave us their blessings. We left Mapangpang and headed home. It was kind of weird; I did not have any sopas when we were in Mapangpang. But on our way home, I felt like I was full.

Happy Birthday Tatay!! I love you.

Why My Father is the Best

It is father’s day tomorrow. I don’t remember last year’s father’s day. Honestly. It’s funny because I tend to remember those things. Every father’s day, I make it a point to greet all the fathers that I know. My friends, even my friends’ fathers are not spared from my over acting sweetness :).

This year, so I won’t forget it, I have decided to take a note of the things that I will do, come tomorrow.

Firstly, I will hear a mass. I know that this particular mass, I will hear for my Tatay. And then after hearing mass, I will greet all the tatays that I know. I will take my boyfriend out for a lunch date because after all, if I’d ever have kids, I’d like to think that he’ll be the father (look at me, eleven years of being together and I still can’t put it straight that he’ll be the father of my kids, hehehe).

In the afternoon, I would go to my friend’s dad, Daddy Oscar (he was paralyzed years ago) and bring him something, and maybe have a small chat. In the end, I will open a bottle of wine; drink it with my boyfriend, before sleeping tight. I don’t want to think of anything else before I sleep. I hope that after this year’s father day, I can move on…

I remember Tatay. He was just such a good Tatay. He has always provided well for us. But that is nothing compared to:

• The time Tatay decided to stop working abroad (he has been working abroad since even before he married Nanay) because he found out Nanay was pregnant with me. Stayed in the Philippines for two years (the longest he has stayed all his life since he started in his early twenties to start working abroad), not wanting to leave my side;

• He worked as a construction worker, ate boiled vegetables dipped in bagoong which he has not experienced since then, because we had too little money, just so he could see me grow up;

• When at last he decided that to be able to give me and my kuya a better future he again had to work abroad, he gave me a walking, talking doll, named Wendy so that I would have a friend growing up, even if he was far way from me;

• That while he was working abroad, he still managed to be somewhat of a hands-on Tatay, I remember he wrote Nanay a letter telling her that we should shift milks. We should be drinking Anchor instead of Birchtree because there was this accident near a birchtree processing plant concerning nuclear whatever;

• That when he comes home to us, when we were kids, he used to cook breakfast for us, I remember he’d cook pancakes and ask us in what shape we want our breakfast to be;


• When he found out that I loved watching television, he bought me a 29-inch television, which was a luxury at that time, I was barely twelve then, I think;

• That he bought a passenger jeepney and had my name and the name of all my siblings written inside the jeep’s ceiling (I felt so mayabang that time, it is like the jeep was mine and my siblings’);

• That when I broke up with my first boyfriend and he saw me crying he told me that I have no reason to cry because he will love me always and will never leave me;

• That when he found out I was dating again he told my mother that should my husband to be can not afford to buy me milk (I love milk) and fruits, he’d just take me back (of course I wouldn’t be running to my father should I marry someone, but that’s just how a father is, I think);

• That when I was studying and failed to go home on time, he looked for me in the campus, seeing me drunk, he brought me home, even asked the guy I’m with if he can also bring him home as this guy’s house was along the way (luckily the guy turned down Tatay’s offer, the situation would have been too awkward), and upon reaching home, he went to the kitchen, set the table, re-heated the sinampalukang manok, prepared my dinner, he put rice in my plate, pored cool water in my glass, and told me I should eat before preparing for bed;

• And he never ceased to love and support me, everytime.


There were so much more, little things that Tatay did for us. And I’m really happy that up to now, I feel like he is still with me, being the Tatay that he always has been. Happy Father’s Day!!!

untitled no.7

you have gone near me,
beside me,
behind me,
underneath me,
above me.

you have been with me,
beyond me,
through me,
against me,
inside me.

you have touched me,
caressed me,
cuddled me,
embraced me.

you have done everything,
anything,
for me,
with me.

you have made me laugh,
cry,
smile,
yearn,
feel.

me…

i loved you.
i love you.

The Anatomy of My Loneliness

My hands are shaking badly as I open a pack of Marlboro red. I am aching for a drag of that potentially lethal, and actually rewarding blue smoke that slowly floats and chases the moon just beyond my grilled window.

It is a hot, humid night and the noise of an assortment of motored vehicles persistently challenges my patience. I don’t know, but every time my menstrual cycle would come to its peak (mostly I determine its peak… I get mad and can’t get a reasonable excuse, it’s peaked… I ache and itch and bitch, it’s peaked… well you see the picture), I always feel like I’m being chased by the four horsemen of the apocalypse. And so, as the hoofs of the grey, black, white and red jockeys thunder in my ears, I sit and take a deep breath and afterwards a long drag of my faithful winged horse and I become its smoke. I float and seek to sit in the moon just beyond my window.

So much for laced talks, the truth is, I have nothing to do tonight. And I do not have enough to go out drinking. Well, there are three cans of pale pilsen in my mini refrigerator, but seeing that I should conserve it for later, more drastic situations, I opted to just thirst and think of that deliciously intoxicating, bubbly, cold taste of beer. Yeah right, I could go on describing how wonderfully delicious a bottle of beer is, and how even more wonderful its kick is after three or so bottles, but I can’t find the words to just describe how I’m so lonely right now. Well, I guess I just did.

I’m sooo lonely, and I don’t even know why.

Is it because I have no one to talk to? Well my fingers are already calloused in texting that SOB (this is actually a term of endearment) that threatens to ruin my 11-year relationship with my boyfriend. Oooops, boyfriend I say. Shit, why am I lonely then?

I don’t know. Well, haven’t you felt lonely, even when every one you know is just there, sitting beside you (well, you might be in a theatre you know…), and enjoying popcorn with you?

And is loneliness the virtue of just not having someone? In that case, I could not be lonely then? Well, I protest. I am lonely. And so I claim right now that loneliness is not just for the lonesome, or alone, or single. Well, loneliness does not concern number. That’s it.

Let me look then at the anatomy of my loneliness…

What have I got, and what haven’t I? Well, possession is relative. And I dare to say that with what I have, I am contented. Then, is it so of who I have? I have good friends with me. And what’s funny, the good friends that I have are also my drinking buddies, and so I do not have to sacrifice good times for a fix. So I guess that’s good. My boyfriend, he is your ideal partner. And he’s really a rare breed. Anyone can vouch for him. My family? You’re usual Filipino family, no problem in there too.

Ooohhh shoot. It must be me then….

Let’s see. Well, there’s nothing and no one left. Is there?

This is a choice then. I guess. When one is lonely, even beyond the noise of his or her life life, then it is because one permits himself to be. Negative emotions would always be in your doorstep. It’s just a matter of either you keep them out, or let them in… I had this whole page of introduction of how lonely I must be, and now, after several sentences I see that it’s my choice. Laughable. Next time, when I reach out for a pack of cigarette and can’t sleep just yet, I guess I’ll just have to admit the fact that I’m addicted to cigarettes, and then I may save some brain cells from burning away to oblivion, and maybe save on electric bills too, by not having to write on my perceived emotions. Till then, keep puffing…

I Was an Observer for the May 2007 Elections and There Were Three Foreigners With Me…

Even before the mid-term election is within arm’s length, I have been dying to be a part of it. Not just as a voter. I cannot just be someone who would go to the polls come May 14 and cast my vote.

Yes, I believe that it is what most of us can do to practice this dog forsaken democracy that we call ours. And most people who do not have an alternative avenue in practicing their democratic freedom see the casting of votes as their best chance in making a difference. I respect that.

I respect our overseas workers who would take the effort to cast their votes knowing that aside from the billions of dollars they send to our country to boost our economy, voting is still one of their most important contribution. I respect the indigenous people dressed in full regalia trooping to the precincts and casting their hope for the continued legacy of their heritage. I respect the impoverished masses whose souls still find within them, no matter how empty their stomachs become, to take part in the elections, pinning their hope in the leaders that have never been true to them.

I even respect those who have lost their hope in the elections. In a country like ours, there is no shortage in disappointments that would slowly rot your soul, letting go of the ideal. Maybe their refusal to vote is the only mechanism they have to be able to survive these disappointments.

We all operate on different terms, you see. And so it is with this premise that I wanted more than just cast my vote.

With the Hello Garci scandal of the previous elections, volunteerism to assure the integrity of the May 14 polls surged to an unprecedented high. And being part of the last three elections, primarily in the party list campaign, I have told myself that I will be part of the greater campaign to ensure clean elections.

And my prayers, my desire have not been left unanswered. I received a call to accompany three foreign observers assigned to Nueva Ecija.

The team from Compact for Peaceful Elections composed of two Film makers from Australia and a Swedish Parliament member became my highway to volunteerism. They stayed for five days in our province and they have made me see Philippine Election in a different light.

It is quite funny when having been their guide so they could see the conduct of elections here, after they boarded the van to bring them back to Manila so that they could consolidate their observations, it is I who come home with most of the learning. I have observed more in this election than what I have known for the past nine years that I have engaged in it.

I need not enumerate the things I have seen in the elections; yes everything is true, from the huge number of volunteers to the muddy activities of the seekers of power to assume victory. Everything is so real when you see it first hand, beyond the walls where you target to stick your posters in, and above the noise of your crappy sound system that plays the campaign tune of your party.

What needs mentioning is that every election, every one of us engages in it with the hope that we will get our heart’s desire.

The politicians can do unspeakable acts, to assure victory. The ordinary voters brave the polls, amidst threats to their security to cast their precious single vote (it is not unheard of in the Philippines when one could get killed simply by voting, or ensuring a clean election that is, there is a public school in Batangas burned down during the canvassing, one teacher and a child died in that incident). There are even political supporters who risk their security and that of their family not just to protect their votes, but the life of the person they voted for (a barangay captain in Guagua, Pampanga was shot dead in front of their house two weeks after the elections, allegedly for supporting the suspended priest who became governor-elect in their province, the priest told in an interview that a day before the captain was shot, he asked the captain to take care, to which the captain answered “it’ll be better sir if they shoot me and not you instead”). That we have been in constant anticipation and unparalleled efforts months, even years before the election to have atleast one that would reflect the people’s will, and after I thappened, we are still treated to a smorgasbord of cheating to which in the end we just accept up until our hopes are again stirred for the next elections.

One of our international observers rightly put it when he said that in their country, during the day itself of the election, they wake up, cast their vote, and forget about it, while in the Philippines, election is such a process that one lives and dies for it. He said he was sorry. But then again, who knows, you can never underestimate the desire of the Filipinos to have clean elections. there is hope for a better tomorrow.

you smiled

i knew you won’t be coming back

it was not yet a year since we last saw each other
when you called and said you wanted us to meet.

i had doubts then. Not knowing if I could look at you
again.

what I know is that I couldn’t not see you, and so
full of anticipation I slowly combed my hair
looked at the mirror,
pursed my lips,
wished so hard that it could be red
without needing to put on lipstick
but it was not, and so I carefully chose the color
pink.
i wanted to look younger.
i want you to remember how much you loved me
when we were young.
i want you to remember.
because those memories are my only hope.

i picked up my bag, and moved my way.
flying feet carried me to that place
where I would dare to hold your hands
but stop at the middle of wanting
fearing that they have held other hands
in between the absences of our stares.

i looked hard at you.
and you looked softly at me.
and for a moment we had nothing to say to each other.
when I opened my lips to say something
you blurted the year have been kind to me.

i wanted to say, no, not without you.
but I just smiled.
wishing you would recall
how you loved my smiles.
but you just smiled.
i knew then, you only miss me
the times we had.
i knew then you have ceased loving me.

you see, you could not even smile then
when I smile at you.
always, you tremble with happiness…