Chismosa

Nag-dinner kaming magkakaibigan and as usual, mga babae ang bumangka sa usapan. Siyempre, topic ng mga chismosa ang buhay ng may buhay. Asawa daw ni #1, may kinakasamang #2 na kaibigan din namin. Di nila maintindihan kung bakit sumama yung pangalawa at paano ito natanggap nung una.

Tahimik lang ako. Sobra na kasi sa opinyon. Mas marami pang nakahaing panghuhusga kaysa pagkain sa mesa. Pero di rin ako nakatiis na di bulabugin ang usapan ng mga laking madre. "Ano ang mali? Tanggap nilang tatlo ang sitwasyon. At sa huli, wala sa kanilang tatlo ang naiwang mag-isa."

Tulad ng inaasahan, ako na ang kinuyog ng mga self-righteous bitches. Sinimulan na nilang i-analyze ang aking buhay mula childhood. Mali ata ang strategy ko. Mas lalo tuloy umingay. Kaya't muli akong humirit, "Teka. Di ba last year, katulad niyo ring mag-isip si #1 and #2 sa mesang ito?"

At sa unang pagkakataon nang gabing iyon, kami namang mga lalake ang bumangka sa usapan.



photo from here

Lights

October 31, 2011

I want to write a blog entry that is brimming with positivity.

One that will, cheesy as it may sound, brighten someone's day. Or night. Make it radiant enough to inspire that person to share even the softest of its embers to another. Kindling the tiniest of flickers that can quickly turn ablaze. In turn sparking a chain of brilliance radiating from that single entry.

Then maybe even just a glimmer of such brightness would find its way back to me.

Before long I'll be floating in a sea of lights, much like today in this park. But even their radiance won't dispel all the shadows, much less those growing within me. And beyond the food, drink, music and festive mood, the smoke from the flames makes my eyes water. My chest starts to heave, and I steady myself against a slab of marble.

I flew in this weekend, and I am again... home. But for the first time in years, it doesn't feel like it.

photo from here

Random

Naunang nakatulog ang aking asawa sa tabi ko. Ikinabit ko ang earphones sa aking telepono, sabay pindot sa controls nito. Random itong pumili ng kanta. Isa mula sa grupong Safetysuit na ngayon ko lang narinig. Madalas na ganyan akong magpatugtog. Gusto ko kasi yung nasosorpresa.

Para antukin, binasa ko ang aking mga lumang blog entries. Wala ring flow mula una hanggang huli. Sabog. Parang ako. Kung ano lang ang maisip. Kung ano lang ang nangyari noong araw na iyon. O di kaya'y may biglang naalala mula sa aking nakaraan. Random shit ba.

Pero kung ipipila mo ang mga nangyari sa kanilang pagkakasunod, makikita mo ang nakatagong kaayusan sa kabila ng pagka-random.  Na ang aking mga karanasan, walang kwenta't makabuluhan, may kirot o kaligayahan, lahat ay inihanda ako sa pinakamalaking sorpresang darating nang di ko inaasahan.

May kalakasan nga lang itong humilik kung minsan.


(This is the song that randomly played on my phone.)

photo from here

When It Rains...

I woke up with a splitting headache this morning. I wanted to stay in, but being new to the job, I dragged myself out of bed and into the office. I got in earlier than usual, made myself coffee, and started to leisurely go through my e-mails, hoping that the rest of the day would be as quiet.

Then my phone rang. I picked it up and used the standard greeting... of my ex-employer, a competitor. I got away with a few odd stares from my neighbors, and for the entire day, I had to practice what to say in my head before I took any calls.

I was then dragged into useless meetings. With a pounding head, a cramped boardroom, and the way everyone skirted around the real issues, I was ready to vomit. I was sweating so badly that i swear i could smell my pits and damp leather shoes. I bet everyone in the room did.

I was ectatic when the clock hit 6, only to find out that I had to partipate in meetings with colleagues in another time zone. I was hungry and nauseous and all I could hear for the next hours was the rumbling in my stomach before I finally vomited into the nearest bin.

The last call finished late, and I ran downstairs to catch the last train. I sprinted to the nearest station only to see the shutters at the entrance slowly descend before finally shutting me out. I stood in the middle of the street, unwell and on the verge of exasperation.

Then, as if on cue, the rain started to pour.

photo from here

Peter Holds On To His Tights

All of us were children once. We had toys - I still remember my favorite one. And we had our own little worlds. From a hidden one lit by a penlight under a blanket sky. To our dreams of never never land where children can fly and never grow up. But we did grow up. The toys disappeared. The blankets were washed. The penlight batteries ran out. And our young dreams were stripped of their innocence.

Slowly we became conscious of grown up things. Money. Career. Time. Responsibility. The same things that allow us to enjoy our grown up toys, live comfortably in this grown up world, and fulfill our grown up dreams. Toy, world, dream - blogging is all these to me, but now life is getting in the way. And the more I try to grow up, I find it all the more difficult not to let it go.

photo from here

Lazy Bus Ride

We've all heard it before. How one appreciates things more once they become less accessible, lost, or unattainable. Neighbors who've moved. Family and friends. An old flame. A suitor turned down, and now taken.

For me it's time. The hours that I took for granted in over a year as a sloth. I woke up late. Slept whenever I wanted. Enjoyed movies and telethons. Read. Blogged when I felt like it. Time didn't need to be managed. I had too much of it.

But now I'd find things to pass up on. Breakfast. The gym. Sleep. Just so I can fit in things that now matter more. TGIF and everyone's rushing to catch a quick train ride home. I walked to the bus stop instead. I wanted to indulge myself with a few more minutes, and be able to finish an entry in this lazy ride home.

photo from here

A Game of Thrones

I've been nursing a bad case of diarrhea for a week. It's funny how the anus can so easily hijack one's body and flaunt its dominance over all other organs, including the brain. You can't think. You can't function. You suddenly have only one purpose in life, and that is to purge.

It probably trumps the heart as well. And one's dick. Between falling for prince charming, effing a hot guy, or doing number 2, which do you think takes precedence? When you got to go, you got to go. It is more primal than love and sex. You give in, you let go, you let it all out. TMI?

Between trips to the loo, I just stayed in bed, awash with self pity. I let myself wallow in the drama. And after the negativity was spent, I felt better and wrote this down on a piece of toilet paper: if things gets shitty and out of control, just take a seat and let it run its course.

photo from here

Kulang (Incomplete)

This is not just for those who are single and looking.

If you're searching for that missing piece (not necessarily a person) which you think will finally make you feel whole, you might find these two videos interesting:


The Missing Piece




The Missing Piece Meets The Big O



photo from here

Sisid (Dive)

It started with a single drop that fell into the placid sea in front of me. The ripples came quickly and hit my mask. For someone who can't swim and is struggling to keep afloat in his BC (buoyancy compensator / life vest), they seemed like waves of apocalyptic proportions. Then it started to rain.

Heaven reflected in the azure waters vanished. Countless beads assaulted its surface. Each one blossomed into ever-growing concentric circles, then overlapped into an array of illogical Venn diagrams. It was chaos. Sensing my growing panic, my diving buddy flashed a hand signal, but I was too busy fighting for my life to notice.

He shoved the regulator into my mouth and pulled our weight underwater. He held my face close to his and waited for me to relax. Guided by his gentle nodding, my breathing slowed, and I stopped struggling. I looked around and finally understood. Under the broken glass surface, everything was quiet. Peaceful. Beautiful.

photo from here

Bamboo Grove

I looked up. The bamboo trees shot up to the sky and gently swayed with the wind. Their countless green fingers tried desperately to block the sun, but persistent rays managed to pierce the canopy before they were blotted out again. A young boy wailed in frustration, as he chased after the lights that flashed on the ground and tried to stamp them out in vain.

I received a message in my personal FB account this morning from someone I met years ago. I was inexperienced in the ways of this world. It was a one time thing. A mistake. And was easily buried and forgotten 'til now. He said he knows me, followed by an evil laugh (ok I exaggerate, he simply said 'hahaha'). Being in the closet and overly paranoid, I froze in terror.

I am happy the way things are, in spite of the secrets that I keep. Being away helps alleviate the pressure from family and friends. Through the years I have built a safe haven, my little bamboo grove. But once in a while, the wind blows my way, and the light peeps into things I have kept hidden. And each time, I feel I have no other choice but to try to snuff the light out. At least for now.

photo from here

Naghihintay

Matagal na akong nakatambay dito, nakikisilong, inaabangang humina ang ulan. Hindi rin naman ako nainip. Tutal lahat naman tayo, laging may hinihintay. Oras ng uwian. Jeep na masasakyan. Teleseryeng sinusubaybayan. Kinsenas at katapusan.

Pero ang iba, higit pa sa pangkarinawang bagay ang inaabangan. Tawag ng trabahong inaplayan. Sagot ng nililigawan. Magbago ng ugali ang asawang di maiwan. Maayos ang nasirang pagsasama at ikaw ay balikan. Mga bagay na babago sa ating buhay.

Sa mga mahalagang bagay, matiyaga tayong naghihintay. Umaasa. Nagdarasal. Pero minsan, hindi talaga nakalaan, hindi dumarating ang matagal nang inaabangan. Kung ikaw ay naghihintay, dapat ba ay hanggang kailan?

Tiningala ko ang patuloy na pagbuhos ng ulan. Hindi ko mawari kung ito ba'y hihinto pa o di kaya'y lalong lalakas. Nagsindi ako ng sigarilyo. Dapat ko na ba itong suungin, o patuloy pa ba akong maghihintay.

photo from here

Bloom

I never liked flowers. The smell always reminds me of sickness and death. Pretty bouquets with their get well soon cards. Over the top arrangements and their condolences. They never really heal the sick. They never really dull the pain.

The mishmash of scents makes my stomach queasy. The same feeling I get with the antiseptic smell of hospital emergency rooms. Where there are bouquets of roses, orchids, stargazers or what have you, I always expect a bright copper coffin nearby.

But I like the single white rose that they gave me. The whiteness blocks everything, and I am finally alone. To talk. Mostly to myself, while the lone bloom listens. And when everyone released their balloons, white against the blue sky, I finally let go of my rose and its silent message into the bright copper below.

photo from here

Tampong Kulangot

Maliliit na mga bagay. Minsan ay diyan kami nagkakainisang mag-asawa.

"Buksan natin ang aircon ngayong gabi. Di ko kaya ang init," pasabi niya habang naghahandang matulog. "Ha? Tama na itong electric fan. Walang timer yan. Nagbabara kasi ilong ko pag sobrang tagal," sagot ko sa kaniya. Humaba pa ang usapan, pero nanaig ang aking gusto nang nauna akong sumimangot.

Habang kami'y magkatabi, balisa sa pagtulog ang aking asawa. Pihit dito, baling doon. Takip at tanggal ng kumot. Taas ng t-shirt. Ayos ng unan. Halatang hindi kumportable dahil sa init ng panahon. Pasikreto akong bumangon at binuksan ang aircon nang di niya namamalayan.

Unti-unting natigil ang kaniyang pagkabalisa. Tuluyan na rin siyang nahimbing. Nagtago ako sa ilalim ng kumot at nakatulog na rin. Nagising ako nang madaling araw para umihi. Mainit ang kwarto. Walang bara ang aking ilong. Aba't naisahan ako ng loko. Patay na ang aircon.

Maliliit na mga bagay, diyan nga kami minsan nagkakainisan. Pero kadalasan, sa mga munting bagay din na yan namin lihim na naipapakita ang laki ng aming pagpapahalaga sa isa't isa.

photo from here

Happy Ending?

The lights onstage are dim. The set empty. The judges' panel vacant. I am alone backstage. I look at the lighted mirror in front of me and strip everything off. The borrowed sequined dress. The coiffed hair extensions. The false eyelashes. The gaudy make up. My winning smile. Until all that stares back is me.

I look at the crumpled piece of paper, clasped tightly in my right hand. Callback after callback, and the role is finally mine. We still have to iron out the details, but it is finally happening. I am coming back. I search my eyes, naked under the glare of combined wattage. Am I happy? Is this really where I want to be?

Big and bright, that's how my eyes looked in the light. Unsure. Somewhat panicked. As I struggle to find a way back into the incoming traffic rush. It's funny I'm back in the same spot that I left almost a year ago. A year of finding myself, my true purpose, that elusive concept of fulfillment.

But as what all aging prostitutes will tell you, life goes on. Reponsibilities don't magically disappear. The bills pile up, and you go back to doing what you know best. As I wipe away the remaining red shadow on my lips, I try to hum a tune from my childhood. One that I was able to learn again during my one-year break.



Happiness is finding a pencil. 
Pizza with sausage. 
Telling the time. 
Happiness is learning to whistle. 
Tying your shoe 
For the very first time. 
Happiness is playing the drum 
In your own school band. 
And happiness is walking hand in hand. 
Happiness is two kinds of ice cream. 
Knowing a secret. 
Climbing a tree. 
Happiness is five different crayons. 
Catching a firefly. 
Setting him free. 
And happiness is being alone every now and then. 
And happiness is coming home again. 
Happiness is morning and evening, 
Daytime and nighttime too. 
For happiness is anyone and anything at all 
That's loved by you. 
Happiness is having a sister. 
Sharing a sandwich. 
Getting along. 
Happiness is singing together 
When day is through, 
And happiness is those who sing with you. 
Happiness is morning and evening, 
Daytime and nighttime too. 
For happiness is anyone and anything at all 
That's loved by you. 


photo from here

Ang Bisita

Matingkad pa rin ang amoy ng bawang sa aking mga daliri. Ang dami ko kasing tinadtad kahapon dahil sa natoka sa aking garlic prawns para sa maliit na handaan sa bahay ng aking pinsan. Pagkadating sa kanila, dumiretso ako sa kusina para ilapag ang mga sugpo at ibang sangkap na aking lulutuin.

Nadaanan ko ang mga batang naglalaro sa sala, kasama ang isang binatang ngayon ko lang nakita. Tinanong ko ang aking pinsan kung sino ito. Anak daw ng kaniyang katulong. Makikituloy sa kanila habang naghahanap ng trabaho. Likas na maawain si insan. Manang-mana talaga sa aking nanay.

Habang nagluluto, di ko mapigilan ang magsalita. Kilala ba niya ito. Alam ba niya kung mabuti itong tao. Di dapat iniiwan ang mga bata dito. Wala silang kalaban-laban. Baka hindi rin magsumbong ang mga ito kapag ginawan ng masama. Natigilan ako nang mapansin kong napakalakas na pala ng boses ko.

Tahimik lang akong pinagmasdan ng aking pinsan. Hinango ko ang mga luto nang sugpo mula sa palayok at naghugas ng kamay sa lababo. Pero kahit anong kuskos ng sabon ang gawin ko, kahit gaano karaming tubig ang ipangbanlaw ko rito, talagang malakas pa rin ang kapit ng amoy ng kahapon.

photo from here

Blind Date

Dahil sa kabubuyo ng aking mga kaibigan, pumayag na rin akong makipagkita sa kaniya. May kapirasong excitement, kaunting kaba. Hindi tuloy naging mahimbing ang aking pagtulog. Sa mismong araw, nagbihis ako ng kaunti, para naman magmukhang guwapo at kaakit-akit.

Ok naman ang aming pagkikita. Masaya siyang kausap. Palagay ang loob namin sa isa't isa. At sa basa ko sa kaniyang mga kilos, mukha namang gusto rin niya ako. Sa tingin ko, smart and witty naman ako ng gabing iyon. Sana nga lang, ganun din ang nakita niya.

Ako ang nagsabi sa mga nag-reto kong kaibigan na no expectations. Pero eto ako. Ilang araw na. Naghihintay pa rin ng tawag niya. Tuloy, ang dami kong tanong sa sarili. Baka naman masyado akong maagang naging kumportable. O di kaya'y mali lang ang aking basa sa kaniyang mga baraha.

Hay letseng job interview yan! Makataya na nga ng Lotto sa kabilang kanto.

photo from here

Unexpected Text

I received a text message early this morning. A good friend just lost his battle with cancer. I couldn't go back to sleep, as all these questions ran through my head. On life. One's purpose. Our mortality.

Derek was a happy man, brimming with positivity, a joy to work with. He never changed after the diagnosis. I mean physically he did, as both sickness and treatment wasted his frail body away, but the easy smile never faded. Not even with the thought of leaving a young family behind.

At this age, a number of us begin to look at our lives and ask, Where am I headed. Am I on track. What have I accomplished. What will be my legacy. We often measure success along the lines of career and wealth. And since I quit working, I have neither.

As I began contemplating my supposed failure, I received another text from the same sender. She was grateful that I was her first boss. For inspiring her in her career and personal life. And for being a friend. She added that I look much happier in my recent FB pics, and she hopes that I stay that way.

So am I on track? What have I accomplished? What will be my legacy? The unexpected text made me revisit all these questions. Perhaps success cannot be determined by traditional measures alone.

photo from here

Reflection

The holy week is supposed to be a time for reflection. But for an escapist like me, I am terrified of introspections and the epiphanies that they bring. Now I am happy, everything is rosy. Except for the occassional health issues, I like things the way they are.

You see, there is a danger of noticing things upon closer inspection. The painted backdrop. The artificial lighting that brightens everything and gives you that warm feeling. The rickety fan and its gentle breeze. The price tags on the plastic florae from SM. Subdued background music to enhance the magic.

But realizations have a way of creeping up on me. Perhaps I created this "reality"? Maybe I'll find traces of paint under my fingernails, SM purchases in my credit card bill, the same playlist in my iPod. And if I do, will these prove that everything is an illusion, or that we are actually in control of our happiness and destinies?

photo from here

Vacay

This is the life...

Just laying back, vegetating the whole day. The brightness shining from above enhancing the whiteness around me. Taking my time with a borrowed novel.

Food and drink are served with personalized service, thank you very much. I still can watch tv or access the internet if I wish to remain connected.

I guess the peak season has started. Place is packed with peeps chilling out like me. Good thing I updated my iPod playlist with some cool songs.

Yeah, this is the life...

Why then, dear doctor, does it smell like death in here?

photo from here

Unfaithful

My friends and I had dinner and spontaneously decided to watch Last Night (Keira Knightley, Sam Worthington). The ladies were looking forward to another rom-com treat and were surprised by the underlying theme of the movie - infidelity. The film was also dark and open-ended, which they found disturbing.

They decided to have an impromptu discussion on betrayal over a round of drinks. I generally don't enjoy participating in such discourses, but it was interesting to hear the opinions of people with different relationship statuses:

Single Ladies: They were the most idealistic of the group. They were absolute in their belief that infidelity, be it physical or emotional, was unforgivable. When I asked if they thought they were capable of cheating, they all responded with disgust. Prudes.

Married Ladies: Earlier in their marriages, they were as idealistic as their single counterparts. As they matured in their relationships, they realized they have the capacity for (and would extend) forgiveness. They could not articulate why but claimed it was not because of the children, money, or fear of growing old alone.

Married Men: They understandably had no opinion, as the wives were there. Smart move. Maybe I should have invited them to Genie for a follow through discussion. They have forgiving wives anyway.

Single Men: I was alone in this group, but unbeknownst to the others, I was part of the "married" groups.

I have not faced this dilemma in my current relationship, but I am with the married ladies on this. And like them, I find it hard to explain why I can forgive what the singles view as an affront to the relationship and myself. People may disagree, but maybe an aged relationship is like an old black and white photograph, where everything in the picture is now just different shades of gray.

photo credit: advocate.com