No one knows what struggle it has been lately…

Some people think I abandoned them because I made a wrong choice once more.

Truth be told, I’m in a battle no one knows anything about. I’m torn. Torn between driving away with the one who’s made a hobby of breaking my heart or staying with those angels who have made a pasttime of helping me mend it.

They are situated in opposite polar regions. I am in the middle, going outside my mind trying to figure out a way to make them meet at the center while ignoring the possibility of the implausible. Then again, I’m in the middle. I’m the one torn. And yes, it’s quite implausible…hopefully, implausible for now.

No one knows what struggle it has been lately…and how much I held on everyday.

A Snippet of My Thoughts this Holloween

On the scariest night of the year, this is what haunts me: 

 What if we’ve never met in 1998?

Elizabeth’s Eloquence of my Gloom

It’s been months since I couldn’t put down my rage and heartaches in writing. Perhaps it’s because I still held on to that illusion that maybe things could still be salvaged. Things could still be fixed. I couldn’t put those pent up feelings down in writing because I felt that bottling them within could still cure the pain. I THOUGHT WRONG.

Browsing through my friend’s online journal, I was glued to an entry that says it all.

Courage came to me first. Anger second.

The order does not matter because Hope came just in time.

There is still pain. It comes out in sporadic bursts — while driving to work, in the middle of class, while conversing with the closest of friends, or stepping out of the shower. The pain, however, is no longer brought about by loneliness or hurt or sadness. It is an offshoot of anger — of the realization that even the worst of my actions did not entitle me to the cruelty served. I, like any human being, deserved gentleness, compassion, and respect.

I may not have been worthy of love, but I certainly was valuable enough for its rubrics.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine was served a slice of pizza with a big bite. She showed it to her daughter and said: “This is not love. Love is not a pizza slice with a big bite.” To which I continued: “Love is the entire pizza box. Never settle for anything less.”

Driving home that night this thought occurred to me: To the very hungry, that pizza slice with a big bite would have sufficed.

As God is my witness, I shall never go hungry again. May Anger and Courage always be on my side.

SOURCE: http://www.blogagotchi.com/golagatch/28412/Finally…Anger..html

Watching SCARFACE for the nth Time

You a bunch of fuckin’ assholes. You know why? You don’t have the guts to be what you wanna be. You need people like me. You need people like me so you can point your fuckin’ fingers and say “That’s the bad guy.’”

So? What do I make you? Good? You’re not good. You just know how to hide at a lie. Me, I don’t have that problem. Me, I always tell the truth, even when I lie.”

-Tony Montana, SCARFACE

Finally, CLARITY.

They were right about you.

They were wrong about me.

"What makes Noynoy most deserving today is this: He carries the mantle of People Power."

When I reached emancipation years ago, I was determined never to exercise my right of suffrage. Two national elections and one unelected president later, my determination wavered as President Aquino died on August 5 and Conrado de Quiros’ column today lit the fire of patriotism.

Theres The Rub
Masquerades

By Conrado de Quiros
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 00:23:00 10/07/2009

I’ve gotten some very interesting and thoughtful feedback from readers. A particularly noteworthy one is from a reader who wonders how I have become the No. 1 propagandist for Noynoy Aquino, investing him with the properties of a messiah, when in fact, as Cory’s rule showed, his feet are probably made of clay.

I have absolutely no problem being the “No. 1 propagandist” for Noynoy for one simple reason: I egged him to run. I egged him to run for many reasons, not the least of them being that he is a decent person. He is by no means perfect, but it’s like what Winston Churchill said about democracy: It’s a horrible system, except that the rest are worse.

The “rest” in this case meaning the “mainstream” candidates. Arguably some others have more reformist agendas, or have a reasonable claim to them. Nicky Perlas, a good friend, is one of them. JC de los Reyes, the presidential bet of the Kapatiran party of another good friend, Nandy Pacheco, is probably another.

The reason I am supporting Noynoy rather than any one of them, or others like them, has little to do with Noynoy being more likely to win than them. Or conversely, and more directly, it has little to do with them having as much chance to win as hell freezing over, or as the crow turning white, to use a more local saying. I’ve never had problems plugging for the “unwinnable” but deserving candidate in the past, I won’t have problems plugging for the “unwinnable” but deserving candidate in the future.

I haven’t wavered there. I’ve always plugged for the candidate I thought was most deserving. It just so happens that that candidate is also the most “winnable” today. Which wasn’t so only yesterday: I did propose that Noynoy run when most everybody was still scoffing at the idea, thinking it to border on lunacy.

While at this, curiously no one accused me in the past of being the chief propagandist of Jovito Salonga and Raul Roco though I rooted for them with as much passion as, if not more so than, Noynoy. No one said I made Roco in particular out to be The Messiah. I guess the principle applies only when your bet is doing well.

What makes Noynoy most deserving today is this: He carries the mantle of People Power. I do not mean that in any fuzzy religious or mystical sense—though as I’ve kept saying too, I’m not knocking it; providential things have been happening of late. I mean that in the most practical sense. Not least, the threat of People Power makes Noynoy the one deterrent to cheating. How huge a deterrent depends on how huge Arroyo’s resolve is—and as we’ve seen in the past, it’s epic. No one could have lasted nine unelected years in power without exercising epic resolve. And chicanery.

Noynoy is the one and only candidate the public will mind being cheated. None of the other candidates may claim that. In the other cases, the cheating will probably be protested as just another show of official vileness, but that is all. Noynoy gets cheated and the public will take to the streets.

Far more importantly, look at what’s happened after Aug. 5. You’ve got to be dead not to feel the sea change that’s swept over the landscape. If Le Cirque had been exposed before Aug. 5, we might have vituperated against it but ended up just making text jokes. But it happened after August 5, and the result was an explosion heard from here to New York. Since then no new government perfidy has passed without violent public reaction, from the revelation of the houses of the Arroyo kids in San Francisco to the unraveling of the Arroyo government at the height of the “Ondoy” floods.

It’s the spirit of Edsa that has made that outrage possible, it is the spirit of Edsa that has made that defiance possible. It’s the spirit Cory resurrected by her death, it’s the spirit Noynoy keeps alive by running. What makes Noynoy the most deserving “candidate” today is that he is more than a candidate and the exercise is more than elections. The fact that he is busting the charts all over the place—not even Erap made that spectacular showing in 1998—must suggest that we must look at today’s election beyond the framework of elections. As I suggested at FMAP last week, the only way to see it is this:

It is an Edsa masquerading as an election.

None of it is to suggest that we may look at Noynoy as some kind of savior. I did say last August that we may regard Cory herself only as a source of inspiration, not as a source of salvation. Only we can save ourselves. But a good leader can inspire us to do that. A good leader can dare us to do that.

True enough, the Cory presidency had its share of problems, and the Noynoy presidency will have its share of problems. I myself have not forgotten the things I brought up during the Cory presidency, which was not just Hacienda Luisita but the human rights abuses during the anti-insurgency campaign (notably by the paramilitary groups), government’s dependence on the US (which led to its defense of the Clark and Subic bases), government’s refusal to negotiate, if not scrap, the fraudulent loans (indeed making debt payments, not education, the number one priority of the budget), and so on. I’ll leave for another column why I think the Noynoy presidency can surpass the Cory one. Suffice it to say here that by all means give criticism where criticism is due. It should help make that presidency better.

It’s not perfect. Nothing in life is. One thing I can say is that Cory did not find my stance a reason to regard me as an enemy. If there was one thing she hated in life, it was hypocrites. If there was one thing she believed till death, it was better honorable foes than dishonorable friends.

The mother knew how to listen. Maybe the son does too.

SOURCE: http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view/20091007-228755/Masquerades

Bleeding L♥VE in Red & White

I finally found someone to bleed dry for…

…to bleed dry with.   

 By Jonas Ybañez of SKINDEEP Tattoo, 5 October 2009

My Heart-healing Angels

As the song goes, “Wake me up when September ends…” 

That was how my month felt like when hell started as August ended.

I felt I was pulled in two opposite directions, dilemma being: must I give up or must I still chase pavements leading nowhere? Pain became a physical ache that even the strongest brandy could not pacify. There were no words to describe it. I thought it was the end of me.

Until they changed my mind…

My Heart-healing Angels

by CristeenQuezon photography

The kids in this photo, whom I adorably call “my popcorns”, are Izac and Anika. They are the primary cause should one day I’d commit the crime of kidnapping.

Effie and Bingbing are my fellow Inmaculadistas. We’ve known each other since grade school. One day, I shall write about them.

Big thanks to Atchie, Effie’s elder sister for this  fun photoshoot! It definitely relived childhood happiness…a silver lining of my gloomy September.

Runnin’ Scared

One last taste of my loving
One last flame from your fire
As we kiss and sigh and you tell me lies
One last time

Now, I’m just runnin’ scared. 

"I can’t save you from yourself."

By: SCARLET

You’d rather drown yourself in drink than make yourself sit down and think.
You’d rather lie in bed all day and keep those demons well at bay.
Oh, you mess things up. Oh, you’re dangerous. And I’ve tried to see you through it all and I don’t wanna watch you fall.

But I can’t save you from yourself. I’d kill myself if it would help.
I’ve had enough of wasting time. I’ve got to let you know that I love you like no one else.
But I can’t save you from yourself. I can’t save you from yourself.

You’d rather go hurt someone else than run the risk they’d hurt you first.
You’d rather go for second place than go for first and lose the race.
Oh, you screw things up. Oh, you’re dangerous. And I’ve tried to see you through it all and I don’t wanna watch you fall.

But I can’t save you from yourself. I’d kill myself if it would help.
I’ve had enough of wasting time. I’ve got to let you know that I love you like no one else.
But I can’t save you from yourself. I can’t save you from yourself.

You’d rather I was not your friend for fear I’d leave you in the end.
I know you’d like to change your ways and sure as hell if you don’t, you’ll pay.
Oh why do you fuck things up? Oh you’re dangerous.

But I can’t save you from yourself. I’d kill myself if it would help.
I’ve had enough of wasting time. I’ve got to let you know that I love you like no one else.
But I can’t save you from yourself. I can’t save you from yourself.

"Set me free, leave me be. I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity."

You are, perhaps, the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me.

I don’t hate you because you cheated on me. I hate you because you told her my weakness.  You’ve made a fool out of me and a mockery out of my dreams. I have made truths out of all your lies, fabricated honesty out of your deceit for much too long already. And we both know that I badly need to walk away.

It would be really nice of you if you let me try.

Gravity by Sara Bareilles

Something always brings me back to you.
It never takes too long.
No matter what I say or do I’ll still feel you here ’til the moment I’m gone.

You hold me without touch.
You keep me without chains.
I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.

Set me free, leave me be. I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity.
Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I’m supposed to be.
But you’re on to me and all over me.

You loved me ’cause I’m fragile.
When I thought that I was strong.
But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone.

Set me free, leave me be. I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity.
Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I’m supposed to be.
But you’re on to me and all over me.

I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you’re everything I think I need here on the ground.
But you’re neither friend nor foe though I can’t seem to let you go.
The one thing that I still know is that you’re keeping me down.

Conrado de Quiros Striking the Second Time

Maraming nag-text sa akin matapos mabasa ’yung kolum ko noong Lunes, “Ser, isa pa nga.”

Bakit nga hindi? Bitin nga ang isa, parang beer. Agosto pa rin naman, at buwan pa rin ng Wika. At bukas ay Agosto 21, isang makasaysayang araw na humihiling—hindi, nag-uutos—na gunitain sa paraang malapit sa kamalayang Pilipino. Ano pa ang mas malapit sa kamalayang Pilipino kundi wikang Pilipino? Kahit na pang-text lang ang alam kong Pilipino.

Hindi mahirap hanapin ang paksa para dyan. Iisa ang tampok na elemento sa Agosto 21, isang elemento na tampok din ngayon sa pagkawala. Yan ang katapangan.

Matapang tayo noon, duwag tayo ngayon.

Katapangan ang buod ng mga katagang, “Hindi ka nag-iisa.” Yan ang mga katagang umalingawngaw sa buong bayan matapos pagbabarilin si Ninoy Aquino sa airport noong Agosto 21, 1983. Sa buong panahon ng pagkaburol n’ya, at lalong-lalo na sa pagdala sa kanya sa huling hantungan, yan ang madasaling binubulong, o galit na sinisigaw, ng taongbayan: “Hindi ka nag-iisa.”

Ano nga ba ang ibig sabihin ng “Hindi ka nag-iisa?”

Simple lang. Hindi ka nag-iisa dahil, kagaya mo, handa rin kaming magsakripisyo para sa bayan. Kagaya mo, handa rin kaming kumilos para sa bayan. Kagaya mo, handa rin kaming mamatay para sa bayan.

Mga katagang sinabi, o pinahiwatig, natin noon hindi lang kay Ninoy kundi sa lahat ng nagbuwis ng buhay sa panahon ng kadiliman—marami sa kanila ay nasa Wall of Remembrance ng Bantayog ng mga Bayani ngayon. ’Yan din ang isa pang kahulugan ng “Hindi ka nag-iisa.” Hindi lang si Ninoy ang nagbuwis ng buhay para sa bayan noong panahong ’yon, marami pa.

Sino na lang ang nagsasabi ng “Hindi ka nag-iisa” ngayon? O sino na lang ang nagsasabi n’yan ngayon na me gano’ng kahulugan? Dahil pag naririnig ko ang “Hindi ka nag-iisa” ngayon, ang dating sa ’kin ay parang death wish na lang ng Pinoy. Tipong: “O, sige, isali n’yo na rin ako sa kabaong. Tama na, sobra na, ayoko na. Suko na ini. ”

Paano tayo umabot sa gano’n? Paano tayo nawalan ng katapangan? O diretsuhin na natin, paano tayo naduwag?

Gusto ko sanang sabihing nabakla na siguro tayo, pero di lang sa magagalit sa akin ang mga kaibigan kong bakla kundi marami akong kilalang bakla na matapang. Nangunguna na d’yan si Lino Brocka na sa tindi ng galit sa mga kahibangan noon ni Manoling Morato ay sinigawan ng “Bakla!” Iilan lang ang kakilala kong makakatapat kay Brocka sa katapangan.

Ang nakikita na lang nating katapangan ngayon, at talaga namang laganap na, ay katapangan ng apog. Ang katapangangang yon ay wala ring pinipiling kampon, babae, lalaki o bakla. Equal opportunity, ika nga. Tapang ng apog ang kumikitil sa bayan, tapang ng apog ang pumapatay sa bayan. Tingnan mo ang mga nasa poder ngayon at tanong mo sa sarili kung may makikita ka ring katapat nila sa ganyang katapangan.

Pero yo’ng totoong katapangan, nasaan na?

Angal tayo ng angal, wala naman tayong ginagawa para tigilan ang kawalanghiyaan. Angal tayo ng angal, hindi naman tayo kumikilos para paayusin ang buhay.

Sino’ng inaasahan nating gagawa niyan? Ang Diyos, sa pamagitan ng pagbigay ng lupus o sakit ng tiyan sa pagkabondat sa mga taong bwisit sa buhay natin? Ang Amerika, na nagpapanggap na tagapagtanggol ng demokrasya sa buong mundo pero ayos lang na masikil ang kalayaan sa bansa ni Una? O “sila na lang,” ang ating mga kapitbahay na lang, ang ating mga tagapagtanggol na lang, dahil tayo ay me pamilya, dahil tayo ay kailangang maghanap-buhay, dahil tayo ay sobrang busy.

Sino ba ang walang pamilya? Kaya ka nga kumikilos ay para masilayan ng mga anak mo ang isang lipunang may liwanag at katarungan. Sino ba ang di kailangang maghanap-buhay? Kaya ka nga naghahanap ng buhay para di mo matagpuan ang patay—na pwedeng maging literal balang araw sa bangkay ng anak mo na lulutang-lutang sa ilog dahil ginawa n’ya ang di mo ginawa, ang di mo nagawa, ang di mo magawa. Dahil takot ka. Dahil busy ka.

Nakanino ba ang kapangyarihang hintuin ang katiwalian? Nakanino ba ang kapangyarihang hintuin ang pagbansot sa bayan? Di ba nasa atin? Di ba pag nagagalit tayo ay napipigilan nating bumili ng mamahaling jet ang mumurahing tao? Di pa kumikilos tayo ay napipigilan natin isulong ang Cha-cha ng mga taong di naman marunong sumayaw? Di ba pag pinapakita natin ang ating kapangyarihan ay napapatalsik natin ang mga taong kapit-tuko sa kapangyarihan?

Me mga nagsasabi na hindi naman tayo nawalan ng tapang, nawalan lang tayo ng paki. Gano’n din ’yon. Kaduwagan din yon. O higit pa ro’n. Dahil ngayon hindi ka lang takot mamatay, takot ka pang mabuhay.

Bukas, maraming mga pagtitipon-tipon sa paggunita ng makasaysayang Agosto 21. Isa na dyan ay ang prayer rally sa Ninoy statue sa Ayala na gaganapin sa ika-3:00 ng hapon hanggang gabi. Na ang hiling ng mga organizers ay kung maaari ay magsuot ng dilaw ang mga tao para ipakita ang pakikiramay, pagpupugay, at pakikiisa kay Cory. Hanep din tayong Pinoy ano: Dilaw ang kulay ng kaduwagan sa ibang bansa, dilaw ang kulay ng katapangan sa ating bansa.

Pwede kang sumama rito at sumigaw ng “Tama na, sobra na, palitan na” para sa kinabukasan ng mga anak mo. Pwede kang sumama rito para magsabi kay Inang Bayan, “Hindi ka nag-iisa,” handa rin kaming mamatay nang dahil sa ’yo, at higit na handang mabuhay nang para sa yo. Pwede kang sumama rito para ipakita na hindi pa nawawala ang katapangan sa bayan ko, binihag ka, ang dugo ng mga bayani ay nananalaytay sa mga ugat mo.

O pwede kang huwag sumama rito dahil ang bukang-bibig mo ngayon ay hindi na “Hindi ka nag-iisa” kundi “Bahala ka sa buhay mo.” Pwede kang huwag sumama rito dahil marami ka pang mahalagang gagawin, kagaya nang manuod ng “G.I Joe.” Pwede kang huwag sumama rito dahil mas okay sa yo ang maging patay kahit buhay pa kesa maging buhay kahit patay na. Pero kung gano’n:

Mag-isa ka.

SOURCE: http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view/20090820-221118/Teyktu

CONRADO de QUIROS has proven yet again that the pen, indeed, is mightier than the sword.

May araw din kayo
By Conrado de Quiros
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 01:04:00 08/17/2009

Tatagalugin ko na nang makuha n’yo. Kahit na lingwaheng kanto lang ang alam kong Tagalog.

Tutal Buwan ng Wika naman ang Agosto. Baka sakali ’yung paboritong wika ni Balagtas ay makatulong sa pag-unawa n’yo dahil mukhang ’yung paboritong wika ni Shakespeare ay lampas sa IQ n’yo. Kung sa bagay, ang pinakamahirap gisingin ay ’yung nagtutulug-tulugan. Ang pinakamahirap padinggin ay ’yung nagbibingi-bingihan. Ang pinakamahirap paintindihin ay ’yung nagmamaangmaangan. Bueno, mahirap din paintindihin ’yung likas na tanga. Pero bahala na.

Sabi mo, Cerge Remonde, alangan naman pakanin ng hotdog ang amo mo. Bakit alangan? Hindi naman vegetarian ’yon. At public service nga ’yon, makakatulong dagdagan ng cholesterol at salitre ang dugong dumadaloy papuntang puso n’ya. Kung meron man s’yang dugo, kung meron man s’yang puso.

Bakit alangan? Malamang di ka nagbabasa ng balita, o di lang talaga nagbabasa, kung hindi ay nalaman mo ’yung ginawa ni Barack Obama at Joe Biden nitong nakaraang Mayo. Galing silang White House patungong Virginia nang magtakam sila pareho ng hamburger. Pina detour nila ang motorcade at tumuloy sa unang hamburgerang nakita nila. Ito ang Ray’s Hell Burger, isang maliit at independienteng hamburger joint.

Tumungo ang dalawa sa counter at sila mismo ang nag-order, hindi mga aides. Nagbayad sila ng cash na galing sa sariling bulsa at kagaya ng ibang customers ay pumila para sa turno nila.

Ito ay presidente at bise presidente ng pinakamakapangyarihang bansa sa buong mundo. Kung sa bagay, ’yung amo n’yo ay hindi naman talaga presidente. Di lang makita ang pagkakaiba ni Garci kay God kaya nasabing “God put me here.” Pekeng presidente, pekeng asal presidente.

Sabi mo, Anthony Golez, maliit lang ang P1 million dinner kumpara sa bilyon-bilyong pisong dinala ng amo mo sa bansa.

Ay kayo lang naman ang nagsasabing may inambag ang amo n’yo na bilyong-bilyong piso sa kaban ng bayan. Ni anino noon wala kaming nakita. Ang nakita lang namin ay yung bilyon-bilyong piso—o borjer, ayon nga sa inyong dating kakosa na si Benjamin Abalos—na inaswang ng amo n’yo sa kaban ng bayan. Executive privilege daw ang hindi n’ya sagutin ito. Kailan pa naging pribilehiyo ng isang opisyal ang di managot sa taumbayan? Kailan pa naging pribilehiyo ng isang opisyal ang magnakaw?

Maliit lang pala ang P1 million, ay bakit hindi n’yo na lang ibigay sa nagugutom? O doon sa mga sundalo sa Mindanao? Tama si Archbishop Oscar Cruz. Isipin n’yo kung gaano karaming botas man lang ang mabibili ng P1 million at karagdagang P750,000 na nilamon ng amo n’yo at mga taga bitbit ng kanyang maleta sa isa pang restawran sa New York.

Maliit lang pala ang P1 million (at P750,000), bakit hindi n’yo na lang ibigay doon sa pamilya ng mga sundalong namatay sa Mindanao? Magkano ’yung gusto n’yong ibigay sa bawat isa? P20,000? Sa halagang iyan 50 sundalo na ang maaabuluyan n’yo sa $20,000. Pasalu-saludo pa ’yang amo n’yo sa mga namatay na kala mo ay talagang may malasakit. Bumenta na ’yang dramang ’yan. At pasabi-sabi pa ng “Annihilate the Abus!” Di ba noon pa n’ya ’yan pinangako? Mahilig lang talagang mangako ’yang amo n’yo.

Bukod pa d’yan, saan ba nanggaling ’yung limpak-limpak na salapi ng mga kongresista na pinansisindi nila ng tabako? Di ba sa amin din? Tanong n’yo muna kung ayos lang na i-blowout namin ng wine at caviar ang amo n’yo habang kami ay nagdidildil ng asin—’yung magaspang na klase ha, ’di yung iodized. Ang tindi n’yo, mga p’re.

At ikaw naman, Romulo Macalintal, tapang ng apog mo. Maiisip mo tuloy na sundin na lang ang mungkahi ni Dick the Butcher sa “Henry VI” ni Shakespeare: “First thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.” Pa ethics-ethics ka pa, pasalamat ka di nasunog ang bibig mo sa pagbigkas ng katagang ’yon.

Marami mang sugapa rin sa aming mga taga media, di naman kasing sugapa n’yo. At di naman kami sineswelduhan ng taumbayan. Wala naman kaming problemang sumakay sa PAL at kailangan pang bumili ng P1.2 billion jet. Anong sabi n’yo, kailangan ng amo n’yo sa pabyahe-byahe? E sino naman ang may sabing magbabyahe s’ya? Ngayon pang paalis na s’ya—malinaw na ayaw n’yang umalis. Bakit hindi na lang s’ya bumili ng Matchbox na eroplano? Kasya naman s’ya ro’n.

Lalo kayong nagpupumiglas, lalo lang kayong lumulubog sa kumunoy. Di n’yo malulusutan ang bulilyasong ginawa n’yo. Para n’yo na ring inagaw ang isinusubong kanin ng isang batang nagugutom. Tama si Obama at Biden: Sa panahon ng recession, kung saan nakalugmok ang mga Amerikano sa hirap, dapat makiramay ang mga pinuno sa taumbayan, di nagpapakapariwara. Sa panahon ng kagutuman, na matagal nang kalagayan ng Pinoy, at lalo pang tumindi sa paghagupit ng Typhoon Gloria, dapat siguro uminom na lang kayo ng insecticide. Gawin n’yo ’yan at mapapawi kaagad ang kagutuman ng bayan.

Sa bandang huli, buti na rin lang at ginawa n’yo ’yung magpasasa sa P1 million dinner habang lupaypay ang bayan sa kagutuman—di lang sa kawalan ng pagkain kundi sa iba pang bagay—at pagdadalamhati sa yumaong Ina ng Bayan. Binigyan n’yo ng mukha ang katakawan. Katakawang walang kabusugan. Mukhang di nakita ng masa sa usaping NBN, mukhang di nakikita ng masa sa usaping SAL. Mukhang nakita lang ng masa dito sa ginawa n’yong ito. Sa pagpapabondat sa New York habang naghihinagpis ang bayan.

At buti na rin lang mayroon tayong sariling wika. Di sapat ang Inggles para iparamdam sa inyo ang suklam na nararamdaman namin sa inyo. Di sapat ang Inggles para ipakita sa inyo ang pagkamuhi na nararamdaman namin sa inyo. Di maarok ng Inggles ang lalim ng poot na nararamdaman namin sa inyo.

Isinusuka na kayo ng taumbayan, mahirap man sumuka ang gutom.

May araw din kayo.

‘NUF SAID.

Rebecca Meets Facebook

My mom went grocery shopping a few days ago and saw her college roommate who has been based in Hong Kong for 30 years. After some catch-up merienda, my mom went home, found me in front of my PC and asked me to make her a Facebook account.

REBECCA: Dab, nakita ko si Tita Brenda sa grocery. Nagkita daw sila ni Ninang Auring mo sa Hong Kong. Kinamusta ako at sinabi mag Facebook ako. Gawa mo nga ako at ilagay mo yung picture ko sa passport ko dati.

The loud and liberated, all-out Facebooker that I am officially switched to panic mode. Hala!!!
Change settings FAST. I taught her the basics. How to send messages, how to add contacts, upload and tag pictures and write messages on walls.

Today, I was online and was just browsing page to page, profile to profile and then I decided to make myself a cup of coffee, smoked a stick outside and took a shower. For how many minutes, my mom took over the PC and logged in Facebook. When I checked my profile, this is what I saw:

Rebecca M. Bravo Dab mag-aral ka nang mabuti. Magsasampung milyon na ang gastos ko sayo. Mahal pa ang bayad mag take ng bar kaya dapat one take lang, ok? nasaan pala ang susi ng gate? hindi ka na naman umuwi lintek ka!

Darn Tita Brenda! Darn Ninang Auring! Darn Facebook!

Tying That Yellow Ribbon

To the world, she is the widow in yellow who toppled a dictatorship in a stirring show of People Power in 1986.  To her native Philippines, she is the courageous president who saw off a series of coups d’etat and single-mindedly restored the institutions of democracy.  But to herself, Corazon C. Aquino is a plain housewife who, in all conscience, could not refuse her country’s call to service when her husband, former senator Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr., was assassinated in 1983.  She continues to serve after her term of office ended in 1992 through her work with nongovernmental organizations.  “What is important is that we believe in the Almighty and that we try to do whatever we can to help ease some of the sufferings of our people,” she says.  “I always tell my children:  ‘I don’t know how many good years I still have left, but whatever I can do at this time, I really want to be able to continue not only for the cause of democracy, but also to help in bringing about a better Filipino.”  For the rest of my life, I will be doing whatever I can to improve things.”

-written by Mr. Cesar R. Bacani, Jr.

I rummaged the bodega this morning searching for that little yellow People Power t-shirt I wore in 1986. Amidst the dusts and smell of old wood and boxes, I started crying because I couldn’t find it. And so I sat on the floor and just wept. 

Today, the woman who gave us the gift of democracy will be laid to rest.

THANK YOU, Madamme Cory! I owe my patriotism to only you.

♫ You and I ♫

You and I will travel far together.
We’ll pursue our little star together.
We’ll be happy as we are together.
We may never get to heaven but it’s heaven, at least, to try.

That only time can make
That only love can make
That only we can make
You and I

Anuvah Batman!

I woke up today happy. I had corned beef omelette, piniritong isda and atcharang ampalaya for brunch. I was tightly hugged goodbye and I went to Starbucks and spent hours studying for my preliminary exams. When hunger struck at 9pm, I went home for dinner. Rebecca’s sinigang na baboy made me even happier that I was looking forward to such a heavenly slumber.

Then I went online. Big mistake.

I found my recent ex, who just turned older last weekend, online at Facebook. The happy me thought that despite the drift, it would be polite to greet him anyway even if it’s a few days late.

G: “Belated happy birthday.” ENTER key. “I wish you good health and better grades.” ENTER key.

This came out of the screen: “Mark Anthony Arciga is now offline.”

LESSON LEARNED:
Common courtesy is not inherent. Kaya ‘wag nang i-greet and dapat hindi i-greet. Wag nang mag wish ng good health and better grades dahil iba na ang panahon ngayon. Iba na din ang gusto ng mga tao. As Gelo eloquently put it, ipagluksa na lang natin si Michael Jackson dahil hinding-hindi na siya magbi-birthday kahit kailan.

AMEN!

Mesmerized

“I could hold you forever but that would never even be long enough.”

By: Lifehouse

I’m filling a space
Burning a chapter of your life
This was the place that only you would know
Walking away
Watching the ashes as they fall

Reaching into your eyes
I can feel you crawling
Through my veins like
Catching the first sunrise
Mesmerized

Sometimes when I’m with you
These feelings falling
Like a landslide
As both of our dreams collide

What made my 4th of July 2009

Exhausted after my Property class, I wanted to get drunk with friends to console my week-long caffeine and reading overload. But it rained and it reminded me of That Damn Asthmatic Patient.

Coughing back and forth and heavy breaths in constant mode, she took my hand and said: “Mine ka na lang tonight, ha? Let’s eat adobo and corned beef and watch Star Movies. I’m yayay man. Let’s tagay na lang next week, ha?”

The Dream of a Dew-washed morning

“There is a rumor that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning.”

-Rabindranath Tagore                                     

Ninang’s Favorite Angel (2003-2009)

Aboard PR848 bound for Manila at 9:45am last Thursday, I took the window seat wanting to scream my head off. I barely slept the night before and the lechon that my mom ordered arrived at the airport just in the nick of time before they closed boarding that I had to run up and about for its quarantine permit, secure my boarding pass and pay for the terminal fee while trying to sober up and stay awake.

Looking forward to sleeping the entire flight, imagine my dismay and irritation when I realized I was seated a row away from a screaming toddler. Before the plane took off, he was throwing tantrums here and there like a goddamn maniac. “My car! My car!!! Mommy, I want my car!!! Tita Addy, help me! I want my car!!!”

The kid’s companion hardly exerted enough effort to pacify the crying baby and simply said, “Ssshhhhhhhhh…stop crying….ssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh…” in a most casual manner like it was an everyday, every hour occurrence. Jeeeez!!! We’re inside an aircraft!

For the duration of the flight the screaming baby was so consistent in his demand for the freakin’ car and his pitch varied from tolerable to extremely exasperating and then to the maddening screams. “Tita Addy, please help me! My car! My car!!! My car!!! Help me!!! My car!!!”

F*CK!!! SOMEBODY GIVE THE BABY HIS DAMN CAR!!!

When refreshments were served, the baby’s plea turned down a couple of notch and I breathed heavily. Then, I felt a clutch in my chest and I found it so difficult to swallow. I stared out at the clouds and I started crying. Slowly, it dawned to me why I was in that particular flight. Why, despite my class schedule, I was in a morning flight bound for Manila. I had to fly for Gian, my one and only kabatch, and for his son Nicolo Miguel’s 6^th birthday.

Six days ago, I was in Camotes Island for the weekend with no satellite signal. I returned home on a Sunday afternoon and found a message in my inbox which had me stunned lifeless for about 30 minutes. My godson Migo, Gian’s first-born, died on Saturday while I was spending my last summer hoorah by the beach. It was utterly devastating that it didn’t feel real. My heart slowly broke into pieces. It hurt really bad it was almost physical.

My irritation towards the screaming toddler softened.

Ithought about the day Gian told me Ainee was pregnant. It was in October 2002 when he decided to let me continue with our rituals without him. He looked scared, worried and yet he was so excited for something new and wonderful in his life. I remembered when Gian showed me Ainee’s huge tummy with visible stretch marks. It was in the basketball court in Cubic while we watched the brods play. He touched Ainee’s belly and nicknamed Migo “Stretchy”.

I remembered when Migo was born, 18^th of June 2003, at Manila Doctors’ Hospital. I got a text message from Gian, “Kabatch ninang ka na. Nanganak na si Ainee.” When Vap and I visited them at the hospital, I don’t remember his face. But I could vividly recall Gian’s face all lit up and glowing, Ainee’s eyes filled with relief, contentment and unexplainable joy of motherhood. I remembered Migo when he proudly showed off Red, his little brother, to me and my friend Jenni. He was barely four years old yet he acted like Red’s guardian, a fine kuya.

I remembered telling Migo how to kill a cockroach, that after he steps on it, he must squish it with his slipper. I remembered him reminding me that after squishing the cockroach to death, it had to be sprayed by Baygon. A smart kid that boy.

I arrived at Funeraria Paz before noon. “Migo, Ninang’s here,” I said out loud. Silently singing the saddest birthday song, I could hear my heart breaking yet again. That day, on his sixth birthday, he was laid to rest.

When a man, by reason of death, loses his wife, he’s called a widower. When a woman, by the same reason, loses her husband, she’s called a widow. When parents die, their children are called orphans. But even the most intelligent and eloquent person could never come up with a word that would label a parent when he loses his child. There is no such word to describe such loss because it is the most unnatural thing. It simply does not and must not happen.

Remembering the screaming toddler aboard my Manila-bound flight, I cried once more. I cried for Gian, for Ainee and for all those whose lives were touched by Migo. I cried for what I would willingly bargain for just to give Gian Migo’s cries one more time. What I would ultimately give up just to give Ainee Migo’s screaming one more day. Yet there could never be enough tears or enough words of condolences that would pacify Gian and Ainee’s loss. Not enough hugs to erase the grief in their hearts. Not enough grief to offset theirs. So my heart just keeps on breaking.

But as they repeatedly convinced me of, we didn’t lose Migo. No one lost Migo. Instead, we gained an angel. 

I am so proud to have been a part of your 6-year-old life, Migo. Thank you for touching our lives. Ninang will miss you everyday.